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(this is just a quick story I wrote)
Hanara and Gertug were lamenting their new job. They had been assigned crate-moving duty in one of the many warehouses behind the Front. The crates held the things necessary to run a succesfull campaign. Food, Ammunition, and most importantly, Combat Drugs. Transport ships would land in front of the warehouse and drop the crates off. From there it was Hanara and Gertug’s job to carry the crates into the warehouse. Then, when the crates were needed, it was Hanara and Gertug’s job to put the crates onto another transport ship that would carry them to the Front.
This was not a favorite job to any Dark Eldar, much less Hanara and Gertug. They were some of the fiercest warriors, responsible for many a soul’s oblivion. Unfortunately, in their last battle, they had got too a bit too enthusiastic and had killed not only every enemy soldier in the imidiate area, but their own Dark Eldar comrades as well.
Thus, crate duty.
It was nearing midafternoon when another transport ship landed and dropped off it’s crates. Usually once the ships dropped off their crates, they would take off right away, onto their next assignment. For some reason however, when Hanara and Gertug came out and started carrying the crates into the warehouse, the ship stayed where it was. But, work was more important to Hanara and Gertug today because today was the last day of their crate duty.
Hanara placed the crate in the warehouse and turned around and started walking back outside. The creaking the sound of a crate opening slowly reached his ears. He turned around quickly and looked straight down the barrel of a Arbites Pattern III: Lawbringer shotgun. Before he could react, a slug from the shotgun cleaved his head clean off.
Gertug heard the shot and ran into the warehouse with his Splinter Pistol drawn. Standing in the doorway, he heard the sound of a Bolt Pistol’s safety being clicked off behind him. He tried to turn around, but before he could three bolts were embedded in his body. He fell limply to the cold concrete of the warehouse floor. The last sight he ever saw was two Space Wolf Scouts standing over his body with mad grins on their face.
"When Space Wolves call upon Russ or the Emperor in battle, it is to witness the deeds of Men and to judge The Fallen."
- Meditations upon the Fang
Short, but good. I like it. Will we be treated to some more? ^^