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Outlaw289
14-10-2005, 03:01
Little story I'm workin on. Rough around the edges but so far I'm satisfied. Might work on it when convenience dictates.


"**** **** ****!" Corporal Tek Hollarn screamed, as he ran from one shellhole to another. Dirt kicked up around him as shoota shells chased his feet. He cursed the fact he was a quick runner, the trait that rewarded him the prize of wayfaring through a lead soaked killing ground.

He jumped and landed with a thud into a shell hole, courtesy of a friendly basilisk. The hole was deep enough for him to fully conceal himself, but the concealment was not enough to stop the Orks from firing in his general location.

He laid down on his back and fumbled for a smoke grenade. he picked it up, ripped off the safety paint, pulled the pin and threw it a meter or so in front of him. In mere seconds (which felt like hours to Tek) , a generous smokescreen appeared in front of him. He pulled himself into a crouching position, waved his right arm whilst cradling his lasgun with his left, and shouted "Alright, move out! The smoke is up!" Looking around him, he saw the four other runners had done the same. The plain was covered in smoke.

With the encouragement froma few burly Sergeants, about a hundred men of His Brave Imperial Guard of the 21st Garian Riflemen surged forwards, their green-black-brown uniforms creating the impression of a heavily armed forest surging forwards.

Tek watched his comrades get ever closer, a few being struck down, exuding thick crimson gore where the Ork bullets, usually of calibers one centimeter or larger, had found their mark.

In a brief moment, his shellhole filled up with nine more Garians. He noted happily they were all from his squad, which meant none of his pals were hit.

His sergeant immediately started barking out the orders.

"Alright, listen! down a klom from here, in that forest, is an Ork camp. We're goin' to take that trench in front of us, march on up, take some notes on the Ork camp and then radio for men and material, and stomp the aliens into the ground and obliterate him with HIS indomitable wrath! Understood?"

The squad replied with enthusiastic "yes sirs!", but Tek merely had rolled his eyes.

He was never an Emperor-botherer, or even a believer. For his youth, from his first year terran standard to his twenty-second, Tek had be a pirate. When his boss' ship was seized by Garian aerospace authorities, he was offered two options: death or service in the Imperial Guard. Upon reflection, death would've been the quicker means of meeting the inevitable, but for some reason still unbeknowsnt to him, he chose the Guard.

He had managed to reach the rank of corporal due to his ability to get things done and his natural charisma. Now, at age thirty, Tek Hollarn was a hardened veteran of the 21st Garian, survivng two re-stockings (of men that is), three campaigns against Orks, and even an encounter Dark Eldar.

So here he sat, under fire physically from large width ork bullets and mentally from the ineffective encouragement of his inadequate Sergeant.

His sergeant had popped another smoke, stood up and yelled

"Forwards! On the move! Go go go, and keep them frag grenades ready!"

The Sergeant and the rest of the squad clambered out of the trench, the Sergeant having his head being blown clear off by an Orkish bullet and thrown back into the shellhole.
The rest of the squad, already in front of the Sergeant before his graceless decapitation, didn't notice.
Tek grimaced. he noticed the Sergeant had a bolt pistol holstered on his leg, as well as two extra magazines. He grabbed the precious items and ran like hell to the Ork lines.

He took cover in another shellhole with two more of his squadmembers, laid prone, and poked his head and lasgun over the rim of the crater.
Tek looked down the sites of his lasgun and scanned the brim opf the Ork trench.

The red-eyed, green skinned, brown clothed beasts fired wildly at the Garians. Some held a slugga in each fist, unloading bullets like a holo-screen action character. Others held rifle and submachinegun like firearms, gripping them with either one or two hands, firing savagely with no regard to recoil.

Outlaw289
14-10-2005, 03:01
Dirt kicked up around Tek's face and he slid back down into the crater, but pulled himself back up. The soldier next to him, Darian Gwith, did the same, while the flamethrower man, Specialist Marc Everquan, stayed prone, hoping to high heavens that his flame tank wasn't hit.

Tek linwed up a shot on an Ork head, pulled the trigger, and watched with satisfaction and the lasgun burned a neat crater in the Orks crude cranium. Two Orks noticed him, and concentrated their fire on him a bit more. He snapped off a few shots quickly, took cover, then popped back up again, firing a semi-auto and the big green targets, which reminded him of melon-shooting when he was a child.

One of the Ork heads busted in a gratifying display of mostly cauterised flesh, which sizzling blood dripping from the Orks nose, all out of view in the second it took the Ork to slip behind the opaque Ork trench.

The other Ork was still firing, hurling mud clumps that marked the near misses. Darian fired a few shots at the Ork, hitting him in the upper chest, turning the green pectoral a seared black. Tek squeezed off a few more lasbolts, sending the Ork into bleeding convulsions, effectively dead.

Tek and Darian took out two frag grenades each and tossed them into the trench, indulging in power of the "whump whump whump whump!" of the grenades, and the gratifying Orkish grunts that followed.

Tek turned back and tapped Marc on the shoulder and told him...

"Ante up, we're going in!"

..........



Tek and Darian ran in front, Marc just slightly behind.

Tek and Darian jumped in feet first into the Ork trench, each looking right and left respectively. Tek put four lasbolts into a wounded Ork staggering towards him, then let loose a twenty lasbolt stream at a mad, choppa wielding Slugga boy, downing the fiend with blistering lasmarks.

Tek noticed startlingly that three more Orks followed that one, all brandishing choppas and sluggas. Tek gripped his recently acquired bolt pistol from his hip holster, and holding it firmly with both hands, and fired three bolts. One ripped the Ork's left ribcage from its body, the one connected with the right elbow joint, and the last with the Orks throat. It slumped backwards, wailing and bleeding on the way down. The other two leapt right towards him, and Tek reached for his "Old reliable".

The "Old Reliable" was a double-barreled shotgun that fired double-O buckshot. He had had it from his early pirating days, to the urban fighting on Volgagrad-III, to the trench wars of Durvidia. It had never failed him, and he was not inclined to think otherwise now.

The trench was only wide enough for one Ork at a time, a fact Tek was grateful for. He held the shotgun in front of him, waited a second longer, than squeezed the trigger and basked in the glory of the terrific punishment. The Ork's chest was completely torn away, bones and muscle jutting clearly from the ichorous mess that was once its torso.

The last Ork unleashed a terrifying roar, its head shaking with adrenaline fueled intensity. Just as the Ork raised its right arm to swing his choppa down, Tek dove between the Ork's legs, shoved two shells into the shotgun's bore when he landed, and blasted the ork to Gorka Morka when it turned to face him again.

He stood off and wiped the blood from his face. He was still a little jumpy from the adrenaline, but it gave off a positive buzz.

He noted with satisfaction that the other troops had pulled off their part of the assault. This Orky trench was now as secure as a Cadian barracks

He heard footsteps behind him, and was greeted by Hopli "Hop" Tranchukian, the squad's Voxman.

"Hey Tek." Tek noticed Hop's voice sounded a bit off and static-like, since he was talking through the vox piece

It was something that never ceased to catch his attention. Over the years, Tek had grown used to incoming artillery, Ork warcries, and battling armored vehicles, but the sound of a vox filtered voice still irked him.

He and Hop went way back. When Tek was put into service in the Imperial Guard, Hop was one of the greenies he was squadded up with. At that time, Hop was 16 years old. For eight years, they fought together, slept in the same tent, carried each others gear, and watched new faces constantly dissappear into the miasma of warfare. He and Hop were the only originals left in the squad, and consisted of the 4 originals left in the platoon, the nine left in the company, and the 23 left in the entire regiment.

They'd had known each other for a while, and one had never let the other down.

"Fine mess you made here. Too bad he wasn't as lucky, eh?" Hop pointed behind himself, towards Darian's mutilated body and the three crispy Ork corpses that Marc had produced.

Another new guy dead, he thought. Better him than I, Tek mused.

"Know what we're doing next from here Hop?" Tek asked, as he cleaned the bolt pistol's barrell and but more shells in the shotgun's shell rings

"I just got a message from platoon HQ that we're heading into the forest with Sentinel support. 'Bout nine of 'em if I heard correctly, plus Leman Russ tanks, some griffons, and even that Basilisk that got chucking brimstone all over the place. Rumor has it those Inquisition Spooks have been around. Common gossip says" he paused to take a swig from a whiskey flask and rubbed his chin "That Colonel Fornus was seen with some red-robed geezer flanked buy a bunch of black and crimson glory boys with the Red I. Think this place is" his voicely descended into a whisper, "tainted? This ain't givin' me the best of feelings, Tek."

"Same 'ere, Hop. I've heard stories of men who fought Tyranids, men who foughts Orks, men who fought traitors and heretics and the Tau and the countless other little xeno vermin, but I ain't ever, not in my pirate years or my eight in the Guard, ever, ever heard of anybody short of a Space Marine who tangled with a straight up Chaos infestation and lived to brag to his buddies about it."

........

Outlaw289
14-10-2005, 03:02
The rain pounded heavily upon Tek’s poncho, the drops sliding down and pattering upon his thermally-scoped lasgun. He was sitting on the dirt, the lasgun resting on his lap, periodically peeking out from his foxhole to check for Ork kommandoes. A quick scan with the thermal scope confirmed that there were indeed none around for at least a thousand meters, and with that knowledge, lighted a well deserved Lho stick. The embers flicked out and fell upon his boots, and the warm orange glow gave him a little comfort. Silhouetted against the bright white moon of Carthalia, he looked like a picturesque stoic grunt braving nature in the face of a brutal enemy. The thought of that made Tek chuckle.

He looked to his left. Hop was sleeping, leaning against the wall of the foxhole, his vox caster caked with mud. Tek nudged him a few times, and he awoke slowly.

“See anything?” he inquired

“Nope, not a thing Hop.”

“Hey, did I tell ‘ya ‘bout that girl I met on Narnum Major after we got back from the rebel suppression?”

“No, ‘fraid you didn’t. You like her?”

“Oh yea. Helluva woman. Lets just say shes a great servant of the Emperor’s finest”. He flashed a smug smirk with that comment.

“You slay me Hop. You thinking about going further with her?”

“Of course! We already got initiated. When we get down clearing out the Orks here, I’ll see her again, being as Narnum Major is our port of return. When that happens, we’re getting a Priest to marry us. She belongs to the Order of the Sacrificed Lord, but that doesn’t bother me none. Hey, want to see a picture of her?”

“Yea, why not?”

Hop reached in his small rucksack and pulled out a small flipbook. He flipped through several sections, and then gave it to Tek.

Tek pulled out his bluelight flashlight and looked at it. She was indeed quite a woman. Short blonde hair, a nicely built body, and, as the picture proved, was fond of wearing the least amount of clothing possible.

“Her name?”

“Gladia Tranchukian” he gleefully added his last name in place of her maiden

Tek gave him a half-serious look, which Hop laughed at.

“Okay, Gladia Burlinova. But that last bit is going to change!”

They both laughed

"Oh, and get this. Her dad was an Imperial Guard grunt like us, ‘cept he was a lascannoneer. He survived, got a land grant from the Narnumian provinicial government, and invested a lot into promethium-plasma reactors. He made enough Imperials to pretty much buy his own forgeworld. So, she’s loaded and her father is fond of me despite my lowly gruntness. She says we’ll both get juvenant procedures as soon as possible too. Imagine staying young forever?” His eyes seemed to sparkle

“You’re psyche will still get older” he stated, his voice dripping with cynicism

“So?”

“When it comes to youth, its the mind that matters. Or so Capn’ Erefrad used to say.”

Hop went to give a retort his mouth, but his comment was briefly cut short by a cacophony so ere-splittingly loud, it could only be compared to the Ancient Siege of Terra.

“The frakking crap was that?!” Hop asked.

They both stood up and watched as a vortex appeared twenty or so meters in front of their position. A hellish vortex of thrashing currents, colored a deep purple and wild pink, thrashed in the middle of the plains, a black center looming threateningly.

Tek shouldered his lasgun as Hop did the same, both intently watching this newfound terror.

With a sound of a thousand screams a creature was spat from the portal. As it was brightly illuminated by the portal, Tek could make out the details of the hellion. It stood naked and tall, about seven feet, with blue, smooth leather like skin. Its eyes radiated a fierce orange, its mouth bestrewed with fangs. Its head was bald save for a purple strip of hair traveling from the back of his head, in a straight line, ending just above his forehead. Large bony spikes sprouted from its chest and forearms, and a steam-like wave of purple-red smoke rose from the palm of its hands. Its head looked back and forth, settled on Tek’s foxhole, and released a roar of horrifying proportions.

Tek and Hop let fly with their lasguns, plugging the fiend with a dozen lasbolts. Where the lasbolts hits, large orange holes were created, which oozed and produce smoke. With a last critical hit, the creature burst into a thousand bright fragments, its body coruscating into…

No, Tek thought. Not that. Anything but that. Warp energy? Emperor on Earth, forbid it!

“Frakking vile thing!”

“Who cares, there’s more!”

Seven more creatures spewed forth from the portal, mostly identical to the last. Three of them seemed to be female variants of the last one, their more curvaceous forms lending verity to this observation. They glared at Tek and Hop, their hands glowing. The portal disappeared without alarum.

“Hop, call HQ. We’re gettin’ outta here!

They both leapt from their foxhole, darting to the forest which contained the path back to regimental HQ.

Hop took the lead, with Tek spraying lasfire to their rear. The blue creatures gave pursuit. One of the males, nailed by lasfire, shattered into thousands of conflagrant fragments. Tek and Hop made it to the forest, Hop desperately trying to find the right frequency for HQ. The Blue creatures, which he christened as “Viles”, chased them, running tirelessly and casting blue-purple energy spheres from their palms towards the hapless Guardsmen, albeit inaccurately.

Hop talked as he ran “HQ! HQ!” screamed Hop

“This is Garian HQ, over”

“We’re under attacked and being pursued, hostiles unknown, we’re coming back to base and we’re coming in hot!”

“We’ve got a lot of heat already, Corporal. Big blue frakkers have been raiding our perimeter for the last two hours, Terran standard.”

“You too? crud! We’re headed back, so don’t frag us on our way in. Comin’ from the north!”

“Aye, over and out”

Tek crouched and fired a whole powerpack’s worth of shots at the Viles, downing two more. One of them launched an energy ball, which nailed Hop in the back as he was running. He fell down screaming.

“Hoppppppp!” Tek bawled

Tek pulled out his bolt pistol and plugged a Vile, shattering it. His shotgun took care of another.

The last one, one of the “females”, ran at him. Out of ammo, Tek crouched down just before it swiped at him and delivered a kick to its midriff. It got back up, ran at him, but was stopped mid-stride by bashing its head into a low hanging tree branch, knocking itself out.

Confident no more of the Viles were around, Tek checked on Hop.

“You okay bud?”

“Yea, I think so. The vox is fried, and it feels like I got hit by one helluva lasbolt, but otherwise I’ll live.”

“Great. Alright, I think one of those things knocked itself out. You want to kill it?”

“How ‘bout we take it prisoner?”

“Are you frakking serious kid?”

“Yea, why not? We get some trap-setting wire, bind its limbs together, and bring it back to HQ. If these are warp creatures, those Inquisition spooks must be here, and they’ll give an arm and a leg to get a live daemon. C’mon, how about it?”

“I can’t shake the feeling that we’ll be shot for treason and heresy, but, if the big I is around, they’ll be grateful, and its always a good idea to be on their bright side.”

“Now you’re thinking! Alright, lets tie ‘er up and get back to HQ.”

And with that, they took their warp-spawned prize and headed back to a base that no longer existed.