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Alright well here's a story I'm writing exclusively for LO. I'm just coming up with this stuff as I type it (though I have a general idea of where I want to go with the story) so if it's no good bear that in mind.
Hylar was once a beautiful world. Lush and green with many forests, fields and calm rivers. Most of the year was in spring, with only a twelfth of it taken by winter's icy grip and most of the planet in temperate weather zones. The men on this planet led a simple, cheery life. Most of the world was taken by large farming communities, as the world's weather was perfect for it. There were very few cities on the planet, two on either of the massive continents. The world's only tithe to the Imperium of Man was grain once every decade. The people live long happy lives.
Until, as one may have guessed, one year, things began to change. Suddenly there was a burst of new births. In two years the population doubled. In a few short decades where once there were a hand full of people living in peaceful farming communities, there were teaming billions. Cities grew in size and number. Factories sprung up where once meadows had stood. Violence and crime rates soared. And then it was made known who had brought this all to fruition when the world erupted in a violent revolution. Chaos. Subtly, the Lord of Change had influenced the events of these unsuspecting people until he could win worshipers over to his will.
The world's planetary defense force was dredfully under prepared, and was barely able to hold out long enough for a distress signal to be sent out to any that would hear it. Fortunately for Hylar's loyal inhabitants, a division of Imperial guard, on it's way to garrison a boarder system on the far reaches of the Eastern Fringe, heard their plea, and answered it in full force. Five full regiments of infantry, the 501st, 2nd, 88th, 14th heavy and the 203rd Grenadiers, along with three artillery regiments, the 1st, 3rd and 22nd.
Following an orbital strike, it seemed like the forces of the Imperium would triumph in a matter of weeks, some suggested it would be a matter of days even, against the disorganized, under equipped traitors. Despite the trench warfare that the campaign had slowly ground down to, Imperial hopes were high.
Unteroffizier Dietrich von Richter was sitting on a firing step, auto gun held between his legs, and head leaning against the wall of his trench, 'resting' his eyes. Then, a large clot of mud smacked into his face, making a sucking noise as it slid down his neck. Jumping up, having been startled from his sleep Dietrich whipped his head from side to side scanning for enemies, rifle raised. After a few moments he noticed the roaring laughter coming from everyone around him, and the lump of mud on his collar. As he look around at his squad mates laughing at him, his face turned from surprised readiness to a mask of indignant anger. Wiping the mud from himself he asked, as calmly as he could manage "Who, pray tell, thought it would be a funny idea to throw a clod of mud at my face, eh? Who did this? Come on, fess up or it'll be latrine duty for all of you!" It didn't seem possible, but the laughing got even louder. Then, Oberleutnant Jarrel von Gresk, stepped forward and managed to control his laughter long enough to say "I did!" Then he burst into a fit of laughter so hard he fell on his ass, which only made everyone else laugh all the louder. Scowling, Dietrich stalked off angrily. Oberleutnant von Gresk was always humiliating him, Dietrich thought to himself. He always pointed out that Dietrich had failed officer's school, disgraced his noble family, and was forced to serve as an NCO. Always lorded over him because of it. And even when his squad's Feldwebel had died of a previously unknown bowel sickness, and Dietrich had taken charge of the squad, he had refused to promote him.
It took a half hour for the laughter to die down. Finally, when von Gresk had left, Dietrich had every man in his squad volunteer for latrine duty for the whole platoon. Dietrich may not have been able to let out his anger on the Oberleutnant as he would have liked, but his squad would suffer for partaking in the joke so whole-heartedly. "Oh come on fieldy, is not like we's the ones what did it or nothin'. We was just laughin' wiv the Oberleutnant. Agreein' wiv the commander was all." said Gefreiter Allen Thompson. Back on Kieselrich, the Regiment and whole division's home world, there were two casts of people. The descendants of the Anglects and the descendants of the Reinreichs. Back before the Great Crusade, the two had been warring nations, though fifty years before the planet had been brought into the Imperium, the Reinreichs had taken control and superiority of the planet. Now virtually all of the Reinreichs were noblemen, or at the least wealthy merchant families, and almost all of the Anglects were the lower class, with the exception of a few Low House Noble families and a small middle class. As such most of the military's officers were Reinreichs, and most of the line troopers were Anglects, though the two did have members in the opposite ranks. Dietrich was one such exception, though by rights he should be an Officer. "Well," said Dietrich "since you were only agreeing with the commander, I guess you can agree with me and do the whole month's latrine duty then, can't you?" "Yes sar" said Thompson as he walked off muttering to himself. The rest of the evening passed as it usually did between battles. Cards, dice, bad food, more cards, more dice, assigning sentries, sleep.
The next morning, while Dietrich was shaving, a courier came over with a letter from command, undoubtedly containing the orders for all the squad leaders. "Was it say feldy?" Asked Edward Langreen, a simple trooper who barely passed the intelligence test and could not himself read. "I don't know Edward, I haven't opened it yet" Dietrich said with a sigh while working the wax seal off of the envelope. Most of the squad called Edward Ed or Slow Ed, but Dietrich insisted on calling him Edward. Sadly for Edward, he was not a physically impressive man, at only 5'8" and skinny at that, it's a wonder the Guard wanted him at all, though Dietrich supposed the guard would use five year old children if it could get away with it. Once the letter was opened, Dietrich skimmed through it quickly stopping at any areas that looked like they needed paying attention to. "Well boss?" Asked Edward. "It says we're making the big push today, it should, if it all works as planned, break the back of our erstwhile companions the traitorous Chaos worshiping scum opposite us" Dietrich said motioning across no man's land. Noticing the blank stare he drew not only from Edward, but from all of his squad mates that had stopped what they were doing to listen to their new orders, he rephrased himself "We're attacking today, ten minutes before noon". That got a grin out of the squad, an a whoop out of Edward. Dietrich then went back to shaving, perhaps for the last time, he thought to himself. He was the only one in his whole platoon, except perhaps von Gresk, who had the luxury of shaving on the front lines, due to his shaving kit he had brought with him from home, a present from his mother. Most of the men had to wait for the monthly rec time behind lines, when they got to take a bath, shower and then spend a day or two in one of the cities.
Five minutes. Dietrich looked at his pocket watch, gas mask already on, helmet strapped tight, his extra grenades dangling from his bandoleer, rifle shouldered, his other hand on the trench ladder. Four minutes. Then the artillery started, first HE shells, then gas. Then they went over the top. Dietrich wished they had tanks. Because the system they were going to garrison had two manufactorum planets, both solely producing tanks, they were sent with only infantry artillery and a few bombers that could enter the atmosphere. Three minutes. Dietrich looked around at his squad mates. They all looked as tense as he felt, though they looked resplendent in their uniforms that had been sent to them clean right before the engagement with a note attached saying "A clean enemy is a fearsome sight". Stone grey trench coats, brown ankle boots leg wraps that went to just below the knee, and backpack in case they spent extended time without supply. One minute. Dietrich could already hear the first shot being fired in the distance, a dull roar as the artillery spat out High Explosive death. Then the first shells began landing, thunderously loud, shaking the earth all the way across no man's land and further still. For ten minutes constant thunder roared, before it suddenly came to a stop.
"Alright boys, over the top!" Dietrich yelled. A battle cry rose up as the line surged forward, charging as fast as they could across no man's land in the hopes of reaching the other side before the enemy could react. No man's land was a sea of dark grey helmets shrouded in luminescent green gas as the Imperium's soldiers struggled across the craters, barbed wire and and various other obstacles. Then the first shots began to ring out from the enemy lines. As the traitors who survived the bombardment and quickly fitted their gas masks regained their senses, they opened fire with a heavy bolter, followed by another and another. But it was too little too late. The first Guardmen were already close enough to bombard the trenches with their grenades and sections were already fighting in hand to hand combat. "Stick together!" shouted Dietrich to his squad as he jumped into a large crater followed one after the other by his squad mates. "And make ready your grenades!" Dietrich poked his head over the lip of the crater. He could see the enemy trench from here, it was a destroyed Autocannon emplacement with little activity. "We're in luck boys" said Dietrich as he skirted back down to the center of the massive crater. "This section of the line's all blown up, we just need to lob a grenade or two and we'll have it." "Sounds good to me sah" said Will Turner, who had tried to get out of the assault by faking an illness. "Right. On three, I want Langreen and Thompson to throw the grenades. As soon as they're thrown, everyone rush out, the grenades should go off right before we get to the trench lip. Got it?" the squad chorused yes and prepared to run like mad while Allen and Edward took out their grenades. "One" Edward and Allen removed the pins "two" they drew back their arms and got ready to throw "three" Allen and Edward threw the grenades as hard as they could while the rest of the squad charged out of the crater.
And then Dietrich was running. Faster, faster he couldn't go much longer. The grenades went off. He saw two of his men jump in, he couldn't tell who. He was in. He looked left and saw the ragged form of a traitor fighting what looked like Franklin. He couldn't tell with the gas mask covering his face. He looked to his right in time to see a crazed traitor running at him with a combat knife. He fired two shots into his chest and one to his head, dropping the man easily. Before he could turn around he was kicked from behind and lost his footing. Hitting the ground and rolling in time to avoid the strike of an arm wielding a combat knife. Up close he could see the traitor the arm belonged to was beginning to mutate. His hands had suction cups like a squid on the palms and his eyes were reptilian, with the pupil running top to bottom in a narrow slit. Repressing the feeling of revulsion, Dietrich kneed the man in the belly, knocking the wind out of him, which made him lose his grip on the knife. Wrenching it from the slimy grip, Dietrich plunged it into the traitor's neck. He could hear the muffled gurgling of the man as the blood filled his mouth, lungs and then his mask. Kicking the body off before too much blood had spilled on him. Dietrich picked up his rifle as he stood up and looked around again. He now saw the dugout the traitor had come from to get behind him. Looking around he saw that most of his men had won their respective grapples and brawls. He noticed Gruber, the radio operator and only other Reinreich in the squad peeking over the side of the trench, watching the enemy flee. "Gruber" he called "get me the Oberleutnant" Gruber looked at Dietrich and said "Yes sir" before busying himself with the radio.
Tell me what you guys think, if you like it I can come up with more.
Story: Good and interesting! The very beginning moved rather quickly, but I think that's probably because you were eager to get to the action :) That's not necessarily a bad thing with 40k fiction, so feel free to continue as you are. You might want to include some events that show why the rebel Guard are the "bad" guys -- maybe some torture or mutilation (no need to go into great detail; less is more in this case). Otherwise, the enemy is just a figure in the shadows.
Characters: Pretty good, though I have to say that I only got a good feel for Uffz Dietrich von Richter and (Gefr?) Edward Langreen. Everyone else was just a name without a face, though from your last lines it seems that you'll soon have another encounter with the insufferable OLt! One major suggestion I'd like to make is getting rid of the "written" accents; they're very distracting, and while they can add character, it might be better to simply describe the accent. Also... "Will Turner"? ;)
Format: Well-done overall, but you might want to break up your paragraphs a bit, especially those that involve dialogue. The general rule is a new paragraph for a new speaker. This combined with more careful punctuation would make the conversations much easier to follow!
Overall: Well done! I look forward to reading more :) Keep up the good work!
One final note: The line "A clean enemy is a fearsome sight" is so absurd that I actually laughed when I read it, which I don't think is quite the feeling you were aiming to evoke...
Will Turner... Yeah that was kind of intentional, I had pirates on the mind. And the comment that came with the uniforms, was designed to impress on the reader that the commander was not entirely there, sort of like the general in Black Adder IV. Yeah, I dunno I guess I'll drop the written accents. I don't think I am good enough to pull that off.
Gefreiter Hanz Gruber handed the handset to Dietrich when he had finally got Oberleutnant Jarrel von Gresk on the line. "Oberleutnant," began Dietrich "we've made it to and secured the enemy's forward trench, the traitors are in flight. What orders do you have for us?"
"Well old boy boy" replied von Gresk, voice distorted by static "current orders for all units are to press the advantage. Besides, we've got some special reinforcements coming in"
"Reinforcements? From where? I thought we had gathered all the resources that could be spared for this push?"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil it for you, you'll see soon enough. Just concentrate on pushing forward. That is, if you can manage it..."
"Roger that, over and out"
Gruber looked at Dietrich as he was handed back the handset, waiting for him to give the order he guessed would come. "Alright men, listen up" Dietrich began as the rest of his squad gathered round "we have orders for a general push forward. We'll press the attack as hard as we can, as long as we can. Now, I have been told we will be receiving some..." he paused trying to think of the right words for the lack of information given to him by von Gresk "unexpected reinforcements so we shouldn't be stretched as thin as we had at first thought. Everyone got it?" Dietrich looked around at his men, looking for someone with a question. He marveled at them as well, not a single man dead or wounded. Even with the defense as sparse as it was, he would have expected at least one casualty... "Alright then" he said as he snapped out of his revelry "let's move out".
"Gruber, I want you near me in case I need to call something in. Thompson, Turner, I want you to take point. Langreen, bring up the rear." Dietrich always tried to keep him out of the thick of the action. He didn't think that Edward would last long if he didn't. Allen was the first one over the top, followed by Will, Dietrich, Gruber, Franklin Dees and Edward struggling to lift himself over the top of the trench. Their squad had been under strength ever since their heavy bolter team had been burned to death when the flame thrower operator, Jeff his name was, took a shot to the fuel tanks. Picking their way across the smaller no man's land of the secondary trenches, Dietrich noticed that they were taking no fire. Whatsoever. That meant that either the enemy had fled, or there was a trap. Over the years Dietrich had found being prepared for the worst was always the most viable option. "Keep your guard up and your eyes open. Look out for anything suspicious" Dietrich told his men, scanning the seemingly deserted rear lines.
"Do you hear that?" asked Will looking around in the air "sounds like jets" he continued. Dietrich stopped and cocked his head to listen. He could just barely make out the dull roar of jet engines in the distance. "Maybe it's a bombing run from the Laviticus." said Allen who now had his head cocked to listen as well. Dietrich looked around and noticed the whole squad had stopped to listen. "Alright, get a move on, whatever it is it's on our side, the enemy doesn't have any aircraft." and with that the squad snapped back to the present, as if they were in a trance that was broken only by their commander's orders. "Sorry sir, it's just odd is all. We haven't seen bombers in weeks. I thought it was too risky to send them in" Said Franklin as he trotted around a section of barbed wire. Franklin was one of the brightest Anglects Dietrich had ever met. His parents had managed to save enough to keep him in school until he had finished all 13 years, where as most of the lower class, made of entirely of Anglects, had to have their children begin work at the age of 13, the minimum working age on Kieselrich, to cover the cost of the younger children (the average size of a family, Anglect or Reinreich, being 8-12). Franklin had actually joined the Imperial Guard, as opposed to being conscripted to fill the tithe as most Anglects in service were, so that his parents would receive a monthly check of 200 Credits to pay for his younger Brother's school. "Well" said Dietrich "obviously, since the traitors are on the run, they must not have the time to man their anti-aircraft emplacements, thus making it safe to call in air support". In truth Dietrich was as curious as his men, but he needed them to focus on their surroundings. It would be too easy to walk into an ambush if everyone was talking about jet engine noises.
"I don't like this" said Gruber "not one bit. And my arm agrees." Gruber had taken a shot in the arm the first day of fighting, and ever since he said his arm acted up whenever things were about to go bad. Dietrich tried to dismiss it as Gruber trying to make himself important to compensate for being an even lower rank then Dietrich and being a Reinreich, which he did often, the problem was, he was almost always right. "If Gruber's arm says something's wrong I say we wait for those reinforcement's Feldy said was coming" said Allen now looking at every rustle of barbed wire in the wind, every crater, every phantom noise as if a legion of daemons were about to spill forth to take his soul. "We push forward as ordered," said Dietrich "we've wasted enough time as it is." It was eerily silent, and they were about two yards away from the enemy rear trench and had seen not so much as a mouse move. They hadn't seen any other squads from their platoon either, which was both odd and contradictory to what von Gresk had told him. The jets were getting much louder. Dietrich turned around and looked up to see a Thunderhawk roaring by overhead. Obsidian black with a bleeding white rose emblazoned on the side.
"Thunderhawks? Those, those are what space marines ride in aren't they? Emperor's throne, they're real!" shouted Will as he waved his helmet in the air and jumped in excitement. A whoop went up from the rest of the of squad. Except Dietrich, he had a smile on his face, but a knowing smile, as opposed to one of sheer excitement the rest of his squad had. "I'm afraid these are not marines" said Dietrich. "Yes it is true that the blessed Adeptus Astartes ride these vehicles into battle, however" Dietrich continued as his squad slowly stopped celebrating when the words began to sink in. "I recognize the emblem on the side of the Thunderhawk that passed us over head. These... 'Surprise' reinforcements, as the Oberleutnant put them, are Adeptus Sororitas" Dietrich finished. Once again he got blank stares from his squad. "Sisters of Battle. They're Sisters of Battle" Then the squad looked at each other "Hell ain't they supposed to be just as good? Plus we got a chance of getting lucky with them!" Allen said, getting a laugh followed by cheers and whistling from the rest of the squad.
"Well, this must explain why we haven't seen anyone, the Sisters must of killed 'em all" said Will, a bit too enthusiastically. Dietrich shouted to the squad "Alright boys, forward before the enemy's all dead!" Dietrich started off, but then stopped when he noticed Gruber fiddling with his radio, a frown on his face. Dietrich walked up to him as the rest of the squad jogged past. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I don't know, I'm not getting a signal. All the sudden every frequency just turned to static." said Gruber as he turned a dial first one way, then the other. "Well, it doesn't matter" said Dietrich "we have our orders, and the Sisters" and with that he ran to catch up with the rest of the squad.
They had run unopposed all the way to the rear lines, with no one in sight. They had even noticed supplies and ammunition laying around, as if the enemy left in such a hurry that they did not have time to collect them before they moved out. Everyone had just supposed that was due to the Sisters' clearing them out, until Franklin pointed out that there were no bodies. Anywhere. This continued to perplex the squad until they reached a bunker towards the rear that had corpses stacked two high surrounding it. The problem was, they were allied troops. Not just fellow guardsmen, but Dietrich noticed their own platoon's markings. What was more distressing was the manner in which the bodies were left. Some decapitated, some with intestines cut out and used to strangle the owners to death, others in manner more horrific then any mans most terrible nightmares. Will and Edward dropped to their knees, almost in unison and tore their masks off to vomit their meager breakfast out onto the field, stomach acids mixing with blood while Gruber was barely able to suppress the bile from spilling forth in a similar fashion.
"Who" Allen gulped "who could have done this?" Dietrich was about to answer when he spotted Jarrel von Gresk, stumble out from the other side of the bunker, helmet and gaskmask off, soaked in blood, leaning against the wall. "Oberleutnant!" shouted Gruber when he noticed him. von Gresk looked up at them, and focused on Dietrich before shouting "Run! Get out of here!" he took one step towards them before a sword protruded from the middle of his chest. Blood gushed out of the wound at an alarming rate before he was raised two feet of the ground and then thrown to the side, like a rag doll being discarded by a disinterested child. Then the owner of the sword stepped into view. An Adepta Sororitas, aquila torn off the glistening black armour and replaced by the eight pointed star of Chaos.
I didn't have time to go over this one very well, but any comments would be appreciated!
Holy CRAP! Traitor sororitatus!?! That was very unexpected.
I like what you have done so far. You have a dense hard hitting style which hardly lets you come up for air. I want to see more but take your time, the last part of the second installment felt a little rushed and disjointed, like you didn't give yourself enough time to flesh it out and make the necessary conections. Don't be to hasty in explaining whats up with the Traitor Sororitatus, a small mystery will add to the quality of the story.
Good work, you have some talent. If you work hard who knows where this could end up.
(><) This is Dead Bunny.
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First off, sorry for taking so long to get back to this...
And thanks! Yeah, like I said, I just type this stuff out as I go along. Usually I don't know what's going to happen until I type it out, so I only know about stuff a little before you do. I think I did speed things up on that last part just to get it out before I lost my train of thought. I may go back over this stuff and flesh it out more later... I could possibly do it when I'm done writing the whole thing, now that I think about it. Make it flow more together... Anyway, on to the story!
Dietrich stood, rooted to the spot in horror. Will and Edward still hadn't noticed what was going on, unable to stop themselves from vomiting. Gruber was the first to react, raising his rifle and firing off three shots into the chest of the Sororitas. The Autogun rounds bounced off the Sororitas' chest plate, serving only to draw her attention and ire. Snarling she unholstered and raised her bolt pistole. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. As she was raisin her pistole, Dietrich was able to see that it was a hideous parody of an Imperial issue bolt pistole, deformed barrel formed in the shape of a gaping daemon mouth, red eyes glowing on either side of it, just before the chamber mechanism. Dietrich shouted out a wordless cry as he jumped towards Gruber in an attempt to knock him out of the way. It was too late. She fired. the bolter round whizzed by at ultrasonic speeds connecting with Gruber's chest with a wet smack before detonating. Fully half of Gruber's torso was reduced to a bloody spray.
Dietrich collided with the remaining half of Gruber and landed on the ground in a heap. Allen had finally got his rifle up and was pouring fully automatic fire into the Sister, watching as bullets bounced harmlessly off of her thick power armour. The Traitor Sororitas just looked at him through the twisted daemonic visage of her visor, not moving to do anything at all. The Allen's leg was torn off as another bolter shot rang out. Three Traitor Sororitas had flanked around the other side of the bunker, two with bolters and one with a heavy flamer. Allen dropped his rifle as he screamed out in pain, and was shot twice more before falling to the ground in a heap. will had finally regained his senses, and pulled Edward in front of himself as a bolter shot screamed it's way towards him. The shot hit Edward in the abdomen, detonation tearing him in half and throwing Will back two feet. Franklin had leaped into the nearest trench and began firing at the cluster of three Traitor Sororitas. "We have to get out of here!" he yelled while Dietrich stared off to the distance in disbelief. How could this be happening? The Adepta Sororitas were the soldiers of the Ecclesiarchy! how could they betray the Emperor? Then Dietrich thought of the Adeptus Astartes, Space Marines. Even the Emperor's finest fell to the siren call of the ruinous powers, and the Sororitas were not even a tenth the greatness and purity of them, or Horus when he was still loyal and true to the Emperor.
Dietrich snapped out of his reverie, picked himself up and sprinted to the trench that Franklin was firing out of. With ground exploding around his feet, and dirt kicking up all around him, Dietrich thought there was no way he could make it out of this. There were only two of his squad left, they were outnumbered and by finer troops then his own and himself. The had the better equipment, training and, undoubtedly, sorcerous powers. Even if they managed to get away from this one squad of Sororitas, the whole Imperial force was probably destroyed or being destroyed right this very moment. He jumped and just cleared the trench lip, landing in the trench head first. He looked up and saw Franklin letting out disciplined three round bursts at the oncoming Sororitas. Dietrich pulled himself up on his rifle an- the world turned upside down as he was flung to the side from a massive explosion. Bells were ringing, everything was black. His mouth tasted like it was full of pennies. He opened his eyes and saw am ex-Sister standing over him. He quickly shut his eyes again. They must think I'm dead he thought to himself. The ringing started going away and he could hear them talking. One with ripping, gurgling voice was saying "Must of hit a fuel barrel. These two look dead enough." just as she was about to continue another voice spoke, this one was far off, and was in complete contrast to the one that had just spoke. It sounded light, incredibly feminine and sweet, one of the most seductive and arousing things he'd ever heard. He shuddered just from hearing it say "There's one alive over here, looks like he was hiding underneath one of his friends. Want me to kill him, or do you want to have some... Fun first?"
He could hear them climb out of the trench, and dared to open his eyes a crack, and saw Will being held suspended in the air by the most beautiful women he had ever seen or could ever imagine. Full lips the colour of a blazing red rose in full bloom, large perfectly shaped eyes, coloured just as clear deep almost indigo sky, hair a glimmering silver, skin perfectly smooth and a shade of violet that was beautiful, and slightly disquieting all at the same time. Next to her was a Sororitas that was hideous and grotesque. With what looked like a head growing out of her neck, a hand that's fingers were slowly turning into large claws, and spines growing out of the length of her back. Her face looked like it was being molded out of clay, and was let to slide down on one end whilst drying. "By all means" she grated, "it's your turn".
"Mmmm" the beutiful one moaned. "You," she said and turned Will around to face her "do you renounced your corpse-God?"
"Yes" will gasped quietly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you" she purred.
"Yes" said will, louder this time.
"Hmmm, one more time"
"Yes, I renounce my corpse-God!" he shouted now
"Mmm, very good, and do you take Slaneshi, the God of" she paused to lean in close to Will's face and whisper "pleasure, to be your new master?"
"Oh, yes. Yes I do." he said.
Smiling, the beautiful Sister licked Will's face from chin to forehead, leaned back, smiled, and cut his throat. She tossed to corpse to the hideous Sister, who grabbed him and opened her mouth, which had small sharp teeth in row after row, and began to suck the blood out of his neck. Dietrich shut his eyes as the beautiful one looked back his way. "Burn all the bodies and join us with the Sister of Supreme Torment when your done" she said.
Dietrich could hear the footsteps recede into the distance. He heard heavier ones coming up behind him, along with the hiss of an idling flamer. Feeling around on the ground, he realized his rifle was no where near him. He reached down to his belt and let out a silent prayer when he felt his bayonet still secured on his belt. he slowly undid the fasten as he heard the steps getting closer. Heart racing, he waited until the stopped. The he yanked the bayonet free, and launched himself at the direction of the footsteps. Fortunately he was spot-on and the sister was directly in front of him. before she could raise her heavy flamer, Dietrich dodged inside her guard, and plunged his bayonet in the weak spot between her gorget and helmet. As blood rushed out of her neck she sprayed a gout of flame into the air before dropping the flamer and reaching for her throat. She fell to her knees as blood began to bubble out of the filter on her helmet. She then fell forward on to her face. Dietrich looked around to make sure non of the other Traitor Sororitas had stayed behind. He saw no one. Satisfied, he had just began his search for a rifle when he heard a voice say "Bloody good work, couldn't have done it better myself". Startled, Dietrich whirled around with his bayonet at the ready, when he realized it was Franklin.
Alright, that's all I've got in me for today, as alway comment are much appreciated.