Welcome to Librarium Online!
Join our community of 80,000+ members and take part in the number one resource for Warhammer and Warhammer 40K discussion!
Registering gives you full access to take part in discussions, upload pictures, contact other members and search everything!
The night was cold, but that certainly wasn’t unusual in the wilderness of Fenris. Wolf Guard Battle Leader Wulfric shivered slightly as he crept forward through the dense forest terrain. But he wasn’t cold; he was anticipating the encounter for which he had been briefed. From behind him, Wulfric could sense a similar anticipation from the three wolf packs that had been allocated to him for this mission, his first as a wolf guard battle leader. Strange reports had reached the Fang of bizarre metallic creatures with dead eyes that had been spotted at various locations in the southern part of the continent. Wulfric and his exploratory force had been inserted by Thunderhawk gunship along with numerous other similar detachments, some even including the behemoth dreadnoughts of the Space Wolves’ forebears. The various detachments had been inserted at regular intervals, within supporting distance of each other. The invaders of Fenris would not go unfound.
Wulfric’s area of control was centered on an ancient ruined bridge, built who knew how many millennia ago. It was this bridge that they were making for and had just come into his view as the undergrowth and coniferous trees started to thin out. Suddenly a scent unlike anything he had ever smelled before assaulted his senses. He felt the impact it had on each of his wolf packs as they became aware of it as well. Wulfric bit down on his comm-selector, addressing his pack leaders, barely audible to the outside world but heard clearly through the comms, “By the wind they are on the other side of the bridge. Follow me closely; keep the bridge between us and them until we get closer. We’ll make our way through the ruin, give them a taste of bolter, and then we’ll see what they are made of with fang and fist.” Battle Leader Wulfric felt another chill of anticipation go through his body as each of his pack leaders signaled their affirmation. Wulfric could tell from their voices as well as their scent that his wolves, especially his blood claws, could barely contain their desire to rush forward to the battle.
Wulfric bit down again on his comms so that he could address every wolf in the detachment at once, “My wolves, we will be victorious this day, but from all accounts these are worthy foes. Do not underestimate them. Remember, you are mighty Space Wolves, you bear the gene-seed of Russ himself, and with His cunning we shall grab these creatures by the belt and throw them into the abyss!” As he sensed his wolves’ desire for battle increase many times over, Wulfric realized that his wolves did not need such encouragement. They knew who they were, their desire for honor and glory upon the battlefield already heightened by the prospects of encountering a new foe; had his words been for his own sake alone? Did he doubt himself now that he had finally been placed in this position of leadership? Well, no matter, he had a foe with whom to contend; weak he indeed would be if he dwelt on such fears. He would not have been chosen to lead if the Wolf Lords had not seen in him the ability to do so excellently.
Stealthily, Wulfric guided his wolves, two small packs of veteran Grey Hunters and a larger pack of exuberant Blood Claws, to the edge of the ruined bridge. Through the ruins he could see flashes of moonshine reflected off metal and here and there a brilliant pinprick of pail green. The unfamiliar scent of these aliens, like that of machinery yet somehow darker, poignantly malign, assaulted his nostrils once again. “Brother Faelen,” Wulfric called to his Senior-most Blood Claw, “Take your Claws to the rightmost flank of the bridge. Wait for our fire, and then you know what to do.” A low growl of vehement assent was all he received as a reply, but that was good enough for him. Ever since catching sight of their opponent, the scent of the packs had changed to include well-controlled fear along with the lust for battle. That was fine and well with Wulfric, when controlled, fear simply helped you move faster and strike harder.
Only a few heartbeats had passed since catching first sight of the Necron Warriors. There could be no doubt of this new enemy’s identity now. Even as he crouched, ready to spring into action, Wulfric switched to the headquarters battle-comm frequency to address his superiors both abroad in the field as well as in the Fang itself, “We have sighted Necron Warriors; suspicions confirmed; preparing to engage.” The response came back almost immediately from Wolf Guard Battle Leader Hale, positioned only a few miles to Wulfric’s east flank, “Hale here. My Sector’s cold; had the feeling you’d run into some fun, though. Battle-Brother Helmyr is already on his way to aid you; ETA momentarily; will follow myself upon completion of reconnaissance.”
A grim smile crossed Wulfric’s battle-scarred face. Brother Helmyr was one of the ancient dreadnoughts of the Space Wolves, veteran of thousands of battles. His aid would prove invaluable; Brother Helmyr had faced the Necrons before. Suddenly Wulfric’s smile faded as in an instant the Necron Warriors opposite him unleashed a furious barrage of green fire at his rightmost flank. He had not given the order to charge yet, had someone been foolish enough to ignore standard cover doctrine and expose themselves, giving the Necrons a target?
Knowing it was foolish to sit complacently under fire, but also realizing that rushing forward into an unknown situation could be even more foolish, Wulfric leapt backward onto a large boulder, still hidden from the Necrons but with a better view of his right flank. His Blood Claws were already in full charge forward, struggling over the ruins of the bridge, straining, jumping, and clawing through and around the rocks and support columns. His first thought was to signal Brother Faelen and ask him what happened, but he knew whatever the answer might be, it would take too long to receive and was inconsequential now anyway. Just as Wulfric was about to leap back down off the boulder and signal for the charge, his hackles rose and he felt an overwhelming energy bearing down on him. Involuntarily crouching low as if submitting to a larger wolf, Wulfric looked up into the sky and saw a great black shape descending from the heavens just behind his packs. There was no noise, just a massive shape pushing a furious energy beneath it as it descended, blotting out the stars above it.
A monolith. Now doom approached silently from above as well as leveled a torrent of gauss fire from the front. All of this had happened in but a few breaths’ time and finally, seconds feeling like an eternity, Wulfric knew what had to be done. “Through the ruins!” Wulfric shouted furiously to his Grey Hunters, “Engage the warriors; destroy them all!” His wolves howled in anticipation and began leaping through the ruins of the bridge.
Suddenly it seemed the whole world was lit with a sickly green light. A massive beam of energy from the monolith impacted with the earth a half-dozen yard behind him, causing an explosion that rocked Wulfric almost off his feet. Wulfric felt sick to his stomach as he clambered through the ruins, how could they possibly defeat this great beast of living metal? He had heard stories of entire batteries of lascannons fired upon monoliths with no effect. He would have to deal with that later, however; right now they needed to engage the warriors. Perhaps the Necrons would not fire their barrages into their own troops. That hope left only one place for Wulfric and his wolves to go.
Just as Wulfric and his grey hunters reached the other side of the ruins, the world lit up with that ghastly green once more and, to his horror, he saw the bodies of four of his Blood Claws engulfed in the blast and then thrown dozens of yards in each direction. A murderous rage engulfed Wulfric just as the blast had done to his Claws. Giving himself over to the fury of the wolf spirit within, only a small portion of his mind remaining detached, Wulfric and his Grey Hunters charged across the short span of open ground to where the Necron Warriors stood silently, firing, at their leisure, it seemed, into the ranks of his wolves.
In an instant of time, this small section of real estate centered on the ruins had gone from an unnatural silence to a tremendous cacophony of battle sounds. The low-register crackle of bolter fire against the hair-raising, unnerving blasts of gauss weaponry, the howls of pain, fury, and bloodlust from the Space Wolves, terrible explosions from the monolith, the sound of which rolled over the battlefield as if it were its own physical force, and most incredibly, the deafening silence of the Necron Warriors, their dead eyes adding volumes of spite and malice, a visual element to the auditory milieu of battle. It seemed as if time slowed for Wolf Guard Battle Leader Wulfric. That small, still human, still rationale portion of his brain that always remained separate when he let the wolf run wild worked at phenomenal speeds. He felt himself hurtling through space, his frost blade raised, ready to strike. So many senses assaulted him that it was surprising he was actually able to process it all. The scents of his wolf-brothers charging alongside and behind him, their fear dwarfed by an insurmountable fury, carried him forward as if he was being driven onward by physical waves of wrath that flowed from his brothers. In slow motion, Wulfric watched as Necron Warriors shifted their aim, turning their gauss blasters to fire at him from scant yards away. He was almost upon them, but that part of his mind, detached, unafraid, almost uninterested in the situation, told him that even though his foes were only a few paces away, their fire would destroy him long before he could reach them. And then time slowed still further as the most lovely of noises reached Wulfric’s ears, the thwoop thwoop thwoop sound of assault cannon rounds as they passed by, taking the foremost three Necron Warriors in their metallic skulls, their eyes emptying of those eerie green pinpricks of light instantly.
Not even taking time to think, Wulfric shifted his attention to Warriors still standing, and as time seemed to come back, super-accelerated in comparison to what he had been experiencing, he and the rest of his wolves crashed into the Necrons, slashing, hacking, firing their bolters at point blank range, howling, indulging in the joy of close combat. Bolstered by the arrival of Brother Helmyr, Wulfric gave all his attention and prowess to the combat that raged around him. With a fury borne of vengeance and bloodlust, Wulfric cut his way through the Necrons, their skeletal forms yielding to the might of his arm and the frost blade that he wielded with lightning speed. The Necrons seemed to crawl in comparison to the wolves, but still out of the corner of his eye he saw one of his grey hunters fall to a Necron warrior and farther away, his diminished pack of Blood Claws, furious on the charge, having cleaved their way through an entire unit of Warriors, now falling in turn to the Necron Lord who had appeared from the shadows to join the fray.
As Wulfric began orienting his attack to bring him into contact with the Necron Lord, he dimly became aware of Brother Helmyr over the comms. “Brother Helmyr on station,” Helmyr’s voice sounded as if it came from the grave and, in essence, it was, “engaging the monolith now.” The hubris of Brother Helmyr’s declaration did not register with Wulfric until long after the battle was over, but at the time, seemed perfectly reasonable. He did not bother to respond to his ancient wolf brother, instead turning his attention fully upon reaching the Necron Lord. As he cut down the last Warrior in his path, Wulfric watched as the Lord slew two more of his Blood Claws before Brother Faelen, armed with one of the ancient power fists from the chapter armory, slammed said fist into the chest of the Necron Lord, hurtling the Lord to the ground some paces away, the light fading from its eyes, indicating that what life that skeletal being might have once held was now extinguished.
Wolf Guard Battle Leader Wulfric scanned his surroundings with both scent and sight. Four Grey Hunters were down, but each was being attended to by their wolf brothers. Not a heartbeat had passed from the moment the last foe was downed before his wolves’ bloodlust had subsided so they could tend to their fallen. That was discipline, by Russ, and lives would be saved because of it. Mighty deeds had been done on this battlefield, but the glory howls would come later, for now was the time to lift up the fallen. Turning back to Brother Faelen, Wulfric saw a man, superhuman though he may be, who swayed with weariness, both physical and emotional, his stubbornness and wrath at losing so many wolf brothers all that was keeping him upright. He was the only Blood Claw left standing, and of those downed, over half had already yielded their spirits, now only the precious gene-seed left to be gathered. As he watched his Senior Blood Claw, Wulfric knew there was a killing frenzy inside the wolf that would overcome any weariness to strike down any foe if only one presented itself. The two veteran Space Wolves locked gazes momentarily, Wulfric letting his own manner, one of controlled wrath, controlled only in the knowledge that there would be many future chances to avenge the fallen in conflicts to come, permeate his being so that Brother Faelen could receive it by scent instead of words. Such communication in the pack, especially from leaders, was more effective than anything else. Where words in the present circumstance could be misconstrued as trite or cliché and do more harm than good, the scent could not deceive and became all the more consoling. Slowly Wulfric saw the inferno of bloodlust fade from Faelen’s eyes, the Blood Claw’s shoulders sagging slightly.
As Wulfric strode over to his weary wolf-brother, his comms squelched and emitted the rumbling voice of Brother Faelen, “The monolith has disappeared, Brother Wulfric. This is unexplained, but in past encounters, found not unusual when the majority of the Necron force has been eliminated.”
“Thank you for your assistance, ancient-one,” Wulfric used the term of utmost respect when addressing a Space Wolf Dreadnought, then switched once more to the headquarters frequency, “Wulfric reporting. Necron force eliminated. Requesting wolf priest assistance as soon as possible. Nine wounded, three critical; six slain, four gene-seed recoveries needed, two unrecoverable.”
It was bad enough to lose wolves, it was far worse to lose the precious gene-seed of Russ, but such was the impact of war, or at least the ordinance so often used in war. The wry humor of the thought twisted Wulfric’s face into a grim smile as he placed an armored hand on the shoulder of Brother Faelen.
“Let us see to the fallen, my brother, and go home.”
"There will never be enough peace in the universe unless first there is enough war." - Farseer Eleuflin
Very nice and well written! Horray for the space doggy dogs, too bad the necrons phased as I play them more so than my wolves...
Very unique way of writing the story. I like how you didn't write it on a turn by turn basis. Send it to GW and demand satisfaction by telling them to put it in the new SW codex whenever they get around to it.
Again, A well written piece of future literature.
The rep button () is your friend!
Be off-topic and visit www.theopia.com
Space Wolves (500) 6-0-3
Great batrep, phenomenal writing!!
Karmoon: "well.. any kore = good kore" 12:35pm PST 23 May 2007
Hey, thanks, guys. I doubt its good enough to make it into a codex, but thanks for mentioning it!
I really enjoy writing but of late haven't had the time. Doing a Battle Report in that style helps me to vent my creative juices. I don't have to come up with my own storyline, I just do whatever actually happened and add some creativity! Fun fun. Well, thanks again and glad you enjoyed it.
"There will never be enough peace in the universe unless first there is enough war." - Farseer Eleuflin
well done. I play both necrons and space wolves but my heart will always go with the boys from fenris. Great win and Great story. Keep it up man i deff. wanna read more of your stuff.:ninja:
A feral Ork is a happy Ork.
BEST SPACE WOLVES STORY EVER!!!!!!!!! Your Great!!! keep it up I would LOVE to read more!