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Siege of Verunda day 7.
Six days. Six days of preparation, sweat and grueling labor. Orion could still smell the stench of mold on his armor, a reminder of the plague filled brawl a few nights earlier. They had been so foolish, and the cost was great. Many good men had died for nothing, when it could have been so easily prevented. This time however, they would be ready…
They had armed their lines to the teeth. Turrets, Tank traps, and fortifications; Orion made sure that nothing would get through without going through a gauntlet of hell first.
He could see it as clear as day. Ten bloodstained giants clad in brass marched down towards Victories Gate. The true terror however stomped behind them. Each step it took shook the ground in dreadful quakes, leaving deep jagged cracks. It was a beast of steel and fury. Machine fused with evil. Centauries old, it was covered in rust and stank of fresh blood. The marine lowered his binoculars and turned to The sergeant. “Sir, the Berserkers are approaching, and it appears they are accompanied by a Drea-” His sentence was interrupted by a earsplitting thud. When the dust cleared, the marine was gone. The others stationed on the ruined upper floor dashed for cover. “Sir, were under heavy fire.” “Well, what are you waiting for; one of you buffoons man the turret and take that thing out. The rest of you fire at the traitors.” One marine made haste to the turret, grabbed the handles and aimed the twin assault cannons at the Cyborg Behemoth. ‘Dakka Dakka Dakka’ The Assault cannon sang as golden metal teeth flung through the air. Metal clashed with metal, tearing apart wires and twisting parts. With a roar of defiance, It attempted to continue forward, but found itself stuck by its mangled leg. It was stuck, but far from finished. Suddenly two more screeching thuds tore through the upper floor, sending several marines down hundreds of feet to a splattering demise. An unpleasant smushing sound was heard when the bodies hit the ground.
The servants of the Blood God dashed towards the gate, so consumed with rage they did not notice the strange emptiness off the entrance. They were not even daunted by the fact that no one stood guarding the archway. Out of nowhere, the angles of death were upon them. Cleansing flames poured over them, destroying those who sinned. The forth most berserkers found themselves smoldered into ashy shells of crispy armor. Yet fury knows no bounds, and the frenzied continued into Hellfire. The Flamers did not expect this and were cut down before they could fire another volley. Chaplain Huron felt a serge of hate flow through his veins as he imagined what delectable deaths he could give these traitors. He gripped his Crozius, a vibrant limestone green full of infinite power.
That was when Huron saw him. The man, if that was even what it was, was like no other being Huron had ever seen. Crimson faces full of agony adorned his intricately formed armor. He wore an Iron mask, with jagged teeth carved into it. In his hand was a staff; a ring of spikes surrounding a glowing blue gemstone. This ‘Man’ was fear itself, and protruded an aura of dismay. Even Huron, who had been trained to resist the effects of fear, felt himself a bit unnerved.
Huron threw aside his fear and looked deep into the man’s eyes. For a minute they stared at each other, each one feeling the other’s hate. Huron lunged at the man, but Ragnor Iron-Maw was too fast; Dodging the chaplain’s swing. Before the chaplain could make another attack. He felt an ungodly pain at his side, as Ragnor’s staff split him in two with one gruesome motion.
The Iron Beast’s glowing green eyes began glowing with age-old malice. The twisted metal began to twist and reform, wires reconnecting and metal coming back together. The Beast stood tall, as if no pain had ever plagued it. It stomped on forward with quaking determination, sending black dust around it. But Orion knew better. It didn’t stand a chance.
The Hellfire dreadnoughts took careful aim, focusing on the Iron behemoth. ‘ZZZZaaappp’ The lascannon roared. With a great burst of energy, the Monster exploded into howling flames.
Ragnor gave a sigh of frustration. He wanted nothing more than to keep slaughtering loyalists, but the truth was obvious. They were low on numbers and had taken heavy casualties. Ragnor knew that they had lost the battle, but there was still much in store for the loyalists.
P.s. I accedentally put the wrong name on the tittle, can a mod fix this please.
Last edited by Koss; June 2nd, 2007 at 20:49. Reason: oopse, wronge name.
That is not dead which may eternal lie,
for in strange aeons even death may die.