View Full Version : Plague Moon Rising

25-02-2006, 09:59
Allfather Grashul sighed, phlegmy bubbles popping in the rotted remains of his lungs. It had been so long since he had spread the Grandfather's word, all too long indeed. Looking out upon the helm of the Insalubrious, his Repulsive class cruiser, Grashul willed the ancient daemons inhabiting his vessel onward. The Grandfather showed him the way, his senses reaching out, feeling along the ship, its titanic will throbbing like the core of a festering wound. An attendant approached his throne, carved out of raw, rotting flesh, open sores weeping yellow pus and machine oil.

"Dark Captain, we approach the target" wheezed the adept. Hunchbacked, and covered in a gore soaked cloak, the underling awaited his master's reply.

Grashul contemplated this information for several minutes, before deigning to reply. Serving the Grandfather for over four millenia tended to slow one's pace down to megalithic levels. He tilted his head as far towards the adept as he could, the fleshy leech-like appendages growing out of his throne imbedded in the bloated, discolored, dead meat of his body restricting his movements. He hadn't left his throne in over two millenia. "Proceed, with all due haste. Do not let us be detected, or I shall make you wish that you had never died."

Approaching in the cracked, smeared viewscreen was a small green globe. A planet.

Death had come to Mykenae.

Judge Midas Aetion couldn't understand it. The planet of Mykenae had always been peaceful, his precinct never having to deal with much more than average petty theft and mischief. The planet was known for its beautiful stone carved buildings, and its patronage of the Arts of the Imperium. Except for foppish vacationers, nothing of note ever came to the planet.

Then why was he standing here, riot shield in hand, facing down a mob of crazed citizens? He didn't know what changed, but steadily over the past few weeks outbreaks of virulent disease seemed to pop up out of nowhere, defying any and all quarantine attempts. It had the general populace whipped into a panic, often forming impromptu lynch mobs and roving bands of rioting hooligans at the merest hint of someone being tainted by the illness. The unknown disease, which Imperial Cogitators could not identify, was characterized by massive outbreaks of black boils clustering on the skin over the lymph nodes. These boils would fester for days, rupturing in a torrent of stinking pus when ripe. Victims were most contagious for the first few days after exposure, before the boils formed, and as such many were infected that did not realize it.

Aetion spotted motion in the crowd before him. They were beginning to surge his way. Raising his hand, he gave the signal to the other judges. Like one, 30 Judges of the Adeptus Arbites drew shock mauls, activating them in a hum of power. Their glossy beetle black carapace armor glinted in the sunlight. Aetion pulled his visor down, and voxxed for everyone to fix rebreathers. Setting shields firmly into a wall of defense, the Arbiters marched forward. Hobnailed boots barked out a harsh stacatto upon the cobblestones of the streets. A Chimera outfitted with a water cannon slowly rumbled into life, forming an impressive bastion amidst the advancing Judges. Its vox-speaker blared out messages to cease and decist, and to disburse immediately or face repurcussions.

Time slowed down as a molotov thrown from one of the rioters arced through the air. Aetion spotted it, and knew there was no turning back from this event. Not any longer. The burning bottle landed on Judge Pyranteus, his shield raised to try to block the projectile. Glass shattered, showering him in burning promethium. The man's screams echoed loudly through the city block. The scent of burning flesh filled the air as he succumbed to the flames. The Arbiters immediately thumbed their mauls to full power, capable of shattering bone and pulping meat, they were now out to avenge one of their own. The Arbiters smashed into the riot mob like a hammer upon an anvil, their wedge shape cutting into the crowd of roughly a hundred people. Batons rose and fell, people died with fractured skulls, stove in chests, and many more ran in a blind panic.

Judge Aetion saw one of the rioters running at him, a board clenched in his hand. The poor man, young, male, reasonably attractive, pressed into this situation via cruel fate. He didn’t want to fight, it was wrong. The populace deserved saving, not killing, and their search for a cure was only hampered by uprisings like this. Aetion took the blow of the board across his shield, swinging low under it, taking the man upwards into his gut. Something ruptured, for blood fountained out of his mouth, and the rioter dropped to his knees. Suddenly Aetion’s world swam, and he fell as another rioter hit him in the back of the head with a Chimera spanner. If it hadn’t been for his Arbites issued riot gear, his skull would have been stove in. The man stood over him, yelling incoherently, plague blisters forming on his cheeks, and prepared to finish the Judge. Aetion quickly drew his bolt pistol and blew a fist sized hole in the man. It was kill or be killed, and the Imperium had plenty of men to spare.

The fighting continued for nearly a half standard hour before the riot had officially been broken. Four more judges had succumbed to the sheer weight of numbers, dragged down and beaten violently to death. Over half the civilian rioters were dead or severely wounded. Aetion surveyed the scene, and he knew it would not be the last time he saw such a sight.

To be continued....

25-02-2006, 17:27
nice very nice I want to hear more.

What time does this take place? any time it allmost sounds like the plauge of unbelif that occured during the EoT.

25-02-2006, 20:28
Disturbing as ever there nid - good job! Some truly revolting imagery at the start.

27-02-2006, 00:03

It's nice to read something from Grandfather Nurgle for once. Suitably manky!

27-02-2006, 00:50
Next chapter to come tonight after some refining.

02-03-2006, 02:58
I do enjoy your writing. Hope to see more soon.


04-03-2006, 09:05
Unrest had come to a head on Mykenae. Several months of plague had put severe strain on the planets infrastructure, shortages of medical supplies were all too common and were met with more and more rioting. They were becoming more coordinated, too. Attacks of daring bandits on critical supply lines held the city locked in terror. It was obvious that there was more going on under the surface than a mere illness.

Aetion finally got the break he had been searching for. Two days ago, a man had staggered to the iron gates of the precinct house, raving like a madman. None dare believe that the things he spoke of were real, for they were the stuff of nightmares. His words were lent weight, however, when the Arbiter medical facility dug human teeth and fingernails out of his wounds. Aetion felt dread in the bottom of his stomach, knowing the man's tales of darkness and terror were probably true.

"MOVE!" he yelled, as his booted foot crashed into the wooden door. It caved in with a bang, and in flooded Arbiter troops armed with a mixture of assault shields and shock mauls, and combat shotguns and grenade launchers. Immediately, autogun fire began to snap at them from the shadowy interior of the hab-complex. Aetion knew his guess had paid off. Here was organized resistance at last, as opposed to the mindless rioting of panic stricken plague victims. The Arbiters with shields set up a defensive line, while the ones with the shotguns prepared to flank the incoming fire. They stormed in, sweeping into the enemy like the fist of an angry God. Aetion racked his shotgun, and placed a round squarely into the face of one of his attackers. He couldn't believe his eyes. This thing bore the obvious taint of mutation. Before he had pulled the trigger, he had noticed a double hinged jaw, and pustule covered skin with glowing red eyes.


Enraged by this blatent display of disregard to the sanctity of the human form, Aetion signalled to his two grenade launchers. They fired down the hallway, twin explosions filling the hallways with razor sharp shrapnel. The firing ceased momentarily, and they pressed on.

Further down the hallway, they encountered where the grenades had gone off. One of them had blown a hole in the floor, revealing a passageway leading down into the rocky earth of the planet. A foul stench rose from this pit, bringing visions of charnel pits and upturned graves to the minds of the Arbiters. "Masks!" demanded Aetion, and his squads complied, applying rebreathers hastily to cover the fumes. Somehow, just as he expected, the masks refused to keep the stench out. Clipping a tactical light to the end of his shotgun, he took point and descended into the earth.

Downward they crept, occasionally being ambushed from side alcoves by progressively more mutated assailants. One bore the head of a giant fly. One had gaping holes in its stomach where its intestines should have been. One bore more than a comfortable resemblance to something that should have been dead years ago. The heat and humidity were oppresive, the deeper they went the worse it became. After descending for nearly an hour down the gently sloping stone passageway, Aetion thought he heard droning chants. His eyes picked up on dim red light coming just down the hall. They were close to whatever lay at the end of this nightmare.

Rounding the final corner, they came upon a massive chamber hewn out of the living rock of the planet. Aetion caught a glimpse, one horrible, damning glimpse, of what lay in the pit below.

Cultists, hundreds of them, bowed in worship of.....some...thing. Something dug from the planet, that should have remained buried for all time. The skeleton of a dark God, older than time, darker than sin. Sorcerers surrounded the thing, easily 5 meters high. The thing was obviously malformed, bloated and twisted in dark mockery of Humanly perfection. Massive horns jutted from the side of its skull, tusks the size of short swords stuck obscenely from its great maw. The aura of decay and horror it exuded was too much for some of his squads, as they vomited into their rebreathers and doubled over in pain. Aetion screamed in horror as his brain refused to accept what it was viewing.

It was, however, too late. With a thunderous roar, the sorcerers finished their chanting. Ripples of black lightning coruscated from their outstretched limbs, coursing over the bowed cultists, melting flesh from bone in one horrible instant. The cultists screamed in rapture as their forms were rendered down to their basic elements, and the arbiters watched in catatonic horror as the liquid flesh flowed along the ground, covering the frame of the daemon skeleton. Diseased yellow light began to glow deep within its eye sockets. Suddenly Aetion felt its ancient malevolent will forcing its way inside his head. He dimly looked around and saw several of his men drowning, choking to death on lungs that spontaneously rotted from the inside out. He screamed, as the titanic gurgling laugh of the Great Unclean One rumbled through his being.

"Welcome to Hell, Midas Aetion." It said as it adressed him by name. It was the last thing he heard before his mind snapped.

To be continued still....

04-03-2006, 20:41
Good stuff. Looking forward to the next stomach-churning installment!

04-03-2006, 23:34
Chapter 3.5. I wrote this up, was happy with it, will give you an idea of where we're heading. Working on the semantics of the rest of the plot later tonight, hope you guys enjoy it.

The adept ran down the darkly lit hallway, bearing a small gene-encrypted data slate in his arms. He paused in front of a massive blast door, shuddered in worried anticipation, and entered. The Captain did not like to be disturbed during his meditation.

"M'lord, we have urgent.....news...." he started, and slowly trickled off as he caught a glimpse of Captain Barcharius. The marine's back was turned, and he was wearing a simple monk's habit, stripped to the waist. His massive body was covered in scars, every inch, every last modicum of empty flesh, was scarred. Some were large, obviously battle or surgery wounds. But most were small, thin, criss crossing lines. The source of these were obvious. Captain Barcharius was holding a spiked metal scourge, rhythmically flailing his shoulders in penitent flagellation. Blood poured freely from fresh wounds, as he methodically whipped himself. The giant turned, and looked at the adept.

The menial felt a quiver of fear inside him, realizing if he was this intimidated now, that the Adeptus Astaertes must be truly fearsome to the Emperor's enemies. "Uh....sorry, Lord, for disturbing you. We have an emergency distress beacon from a local system. The Imperial planet of Mykenae is devolving into Chaos, and we have been requested by the planetary Governor for assistance." He held out the dataslate, and the Captain took it in his hand. Pressing a finger to it, the screen lit up with tactical data. Barcharius's grim face flicked through the information, and he handed the slate back to the adept. "Send a transmission to the Governor. Tell him that the Strike Cruiser Cleansing Flame of the Marines Malevolent is on its way. Make preparations, for we go to War."

Warboss Garfang
05-03-2006, 01:15
Great writing, very well written, shows a lot of promise.

06-03-2006, 00:45
In the weeks following the distress call, things progressively got worse. What started as panic induced rioting slowly moved towards the appearance of thousands of doomsday cults, all preaching the coming of the End Times, that the decay of Man was already set in motion, that it was inevitable to writhe in agony on diseased flesh, to choke to death on phlegm filled lungs, to scream in horror as the Universe crumbles down. Whispers of dark salvation began spreading like wildfire, the cure was not to rid the disease, but to embrace it. To accept the changes, and to pray for the strength to flourish. The more violently active groups were beginning to show signs of corruption beyond that of a natural plague. It was obvious to the Governor that his world was becoming lost to the Great Enemy. He sent word to the Precinct houses to increase efforts to locate the source of the corruption.

As if through a haze, Midas Aetion slowly regained consciousness. But, something was wrong. He couldn’t move his body. His vision appeared as though he were looking through especially thick glass, distorted and hazy. More importantly, he was back at the Precinct. In the Proctor’s office. He was reporting. Aetion could hear his voice, soft and distant as if heard over a poor comm-net.

“….I reiterate, sir, there is No corruption present in that part of the city. My teams and I cleared that area some weeks ago.”

“Aetion, you lost well over half your men in that action. None of your team have been the same since. Are you sure you didn’t miss anything? Corruption can hide anywhere.”

“No, sir, we found nothing but an unusually well armed cell of terrorists. It’s all noted in my report, I’m sure you have read it.”

No! Aetion yelled inside his head. That’s not me! Don’t listen! he shouted, horror building inside of him as his words were lost to wherever his consciousness was.

Well, the little one is finally awake. How….delightful….

A voice, deep and malignant, intruded into his mind.

Yes, little one, you understand, don’t you?

Never! Foul scum, I shall see you dead! Spawn of darkness, begone!

Quaint, I must admit. And how do you propose to do that?

Aetion had no idea, and his thoughts were lost to the daemon inhabiting his body’s laughter. Suddenly, he saw what the Daemon was planning, and the scale of depravity it represented were shocking.

“Judge Midas Aetion, I hereby relieve you of your duties until further notice. Go home. Get some rest. When you’re ready to return to active duty, let me know. You need a break.” Said the proctor, looking over his files.

Time slowed down as Judge Aetion drew his stub pistol, flicked the safety off, and shot the proctor square between the eyes. His brains blew out the back of his skull, painting the wall in a Rorschach-esque spray of matter. That was a signal. The rest of his men that had made it out intact from that terrible day beneath the city suddenly turned upon their fellow arbitrators and cut them down where they stood. Moving in unison, they retrieved their shotguns and prepared to move to the armory. The Rebellion had begun.

06-03-2006, 02:15

Nice and underhanded too....with the disease being embraced as though it would 'save' them. Exactly how Nurgle works (both in fluff andmy imagination). At times, the change to Chaos in stories seems to happen to easily and quickly. But as I said, this is underhanded and in fitting with Chaos.

06-03-2006, 12:37
Nice twist in the tale there. Good work!

06-03-2006, 14:35
MORE! GIVE ME MOOOOORE! arggh this is really really well written story! make a movie about it!

07-03-2006, 06:46
As an avid nurgle fan, im really enjoying this story so far!

this is actually my first time visiting the stories and art section.. and i have high hopes now i've read this fantastic work in progress!

Keep it up!!


07-03-2006, 09:02
I might come back and edit this one a bit. I can't quite nail it down, how I want to link this scene with the rest of the story, but I figured for a chapter with the notoriety of the Marines Malevolent, they needed a flashy entrance.

The two weeks following the incident at the Precinct house brought forth dark portents of times to come. The daemon inhabiting Aetion, known in the language of man simply as Bilespit had been busy. Inhabiting the Judge, he had spread his taint to the other precinct houses. He sewed corruption and sickness, not of the body, but of the mind. Microscopic brain parasites ate their way into the minds of Judges and officials alike, leaving them open to control by the Daemon. As the parasites ate, they absorbed the knowledge of the person the host used to be, allowing them to mimick behaviors flawlessly to avoid detection. But, at the Daemon’s call, they resorted to their masters blasphemous will. Practically overnight, the Law of the Imperium collapsed on the main continent of Mykenae, and only the smaller outlying islands in the vast planetary sea remained clean. By now, the plague had reached a fever pitch, millions dying in the streets, more still becoming mindless slaves to the legion of Chaotic PDF troopers and Arbiters. They patrolled the streets, violently silencing any opposition to their new lords. They preached the End Times, and that the Grandfather, the Loving Emperor, had blessed them with this disease to test them to see how worthy his people were. The still loyal forces were gathering in the capital city, preparing to attempt to repulse the foul hordes of Chaos. Leman Russes patrolled the streets of the Planetary Capital City, Known as Akropolis, Kill Teams armed with flamethrowers and shotguns purged hordes of cannibalistic mutants and mindless plague zombies, but they knew it was a losing battle. Heretic PDF, well over forty thousand men and armored vehicles, gathered outside of the Akropolis, waiting for the signal to take the last bastion of Imperial hope on the planet.

An especially large mutant leading his band of rebels raised his Eye to the heavens. Sickly grey-green clouds polluted the sky, blacking out most of the natural light. Grandfather be Praised, it was disgustingly beautiful. Even the planet itself was relenting under the inevitable. His eyes had long ago flowed together into the center of his head, and a large horn sprouted from his forehead. His rotten teeth and atrophied limbs glistened in the half light. Suddenly, the clouds parted. Light was visible. He raised his arms in praise, this must be the signal they were waiting for! He bellowed the charge command to begin the attack on Akropolis, and they moved en masse forwards.

The orbital bombardment hit home with elemental force. Skyscraper sized Mass Drivers upon the Cleansing Flame drove huge kinetic projectiles through the atmosphere and into the earth below, each shell pounding into the ground like the fist of an angry god. Entire swaths of the heretic army were destroyed in an instant, obliterated beneath weapons of terrible power. Shells fell like rain, each lancing down through the clouds, temporarily boiling the corruption away, fiery pillars of light descending upon the Akropolis with the fury of the ancients.

Mykenae had just been granted a reprieve. The Marines Malevolent had arrived.

07-03-2006, 09:18
Keep it coming boyo. Nice and vesceral again. :)

Warboss Garfang
07-03-2006, 13:20
I love the little bits of horror you throw in, the whole thing comes across with a really evil feeling.

I love your descriptions of the diseased fighters as well, visceral is the perfect word for them.

07-03-2006, 22:14
The pace is continuing to go, the scale however is increasing tenfold. I'm currently working on a writeup and map of Mykenae so that you all do not get lost, and to help organize my thoughts. I don't want the scale to become so grand that I lose sight of my original goal, to tell a story of a World brought to Darkness.

EDIT! I have no idea the size of a planetary force. Just leave it at a lot.

Loyalist forces on Mykenae:
Roughly 900 Arbiters planetwide
9 regiments Planetary Defence Force
4 Armored Divisions
1 Grand Company Marines Malevolent (6th Tactical Company)
1 Strike Cruiser Cleansing Flame
Planetary Defence Fleet Primaris (1 Gothic Cruiser, 1 Dictator Carrier, 3 Storm Frigates, out chasing the Repulsive Grand Cruiser in the outer system asteroid fields)

Heretic Forces
15 regiments Plague infested PDF
6 Armored Divisions
Innumerable Civilian plague zombies
Repulsive Grand Cruiser Insalubrious
approx. 1 company Death Guard, led by Champion Gerrick Veng
Great Unclean One under the city directing the plague
Sorcerer Coven with GUO

That's for the time being. Reinforcments are coming for both sides. Map and description of the planet to to come later.

12-03-2006, 03:26
Wonderfull! simply Wonderfull! =)

i hope grandfather nurgle WINS thou!

More Plague for the people!

12-03-2006, 03:28
omg im feeling so corrupted now! maybe i change my iron warrior army to DEATH GUARD!?! arghhh.....shutting down. Spark....spark.. hreem This is Warsmith Zymran speaking. This Traidtor has been shot. I can not.....ARGHHH whats that?

hehe i am back! ohh never mind me or my mad deslusions....

12-03-2006, 10:33
Just saying it hasn't been abandoned. I havent liked any of the drafts I've typed. I'll post something more when I'm happy with it.

12-03-2006, 13:12
You just know the Malevolent are going to win.

"Sir, we are experiencing mild losses at the hands of the Chaos forces-"
"Right, that's it. EXTERMINATUS!"
"B-but Sir! The civilian casualties will be-"
"Evidentally you didn't hear me. Bomb the **** out of them."

12-03-2006, 13:45
arghh NOOO! NEVER! Plague will win! ...i hope..

Anyways. I hope you have the time and the intrest left for writing some more.... =/

13-03-2006, 03:24
You just know the Malevolent are going to win.

"Sir, we are experiencing mild losses at the hands of the Chaos forces-"
"Right, that's it. EXTERMINATUS!"
"B-but Sir! The civilian casualties will be-"
"Evidentally you didn't hear me. Bomb the **** out of them."

"Virus bombing. Delightful."

13-03-2006, 07:06
You just know the Malevolent are going to win.

"Sir, we are experiencing mild losses at the hands of the Chaos forces-"
"Right, that's it. EXTERMINATUS!"
"B-but Sir! The civilian casualties will be-"
"Evidentally you didn't hear me. Bomb the **** out of them."

Are you inside my own *******' head?!

13-03-2006, 08:25
Why yes. Yes I am.

13-03-2006, 18:19
Join the club, Revlid.

14-03-2006, 12:18
Can u write some more! =) arghh i want more plague thing storys!

17-03-2006, 00:53
Ceramite boots crushed rubble beneath heavy strides as two squads of Marines Malevolent deployed from the Thunderhawk. Captain Barcharius of the Marines Malevolent surveyed the immediate area as his troopers deployed to secure the area. His ancient Mk.5 ‘Heresy’ armor gleamed in the sun, the brilliant yellow contrasting with the black torso. He had a crimson half-cape on, one of his few nods to personal indulgence. His helmet was clipped to his belt. They were in front of the Senate Imperialis building, half destroyed with the twisted remains of an Arbiter Rhino imbedded in the upper walls. It had been hurled from the destruction some kilometers away. The Marines’ opening salvo had leveled half the capital city of Akropolis. Most of the damage here, however, was from flying debris. Such as that unfortunate Rhino. The ground rumbled as a legend strode down the ramp from the Thunderhawk, a legend even amongst the Adeptus Astaertes. Standing a full 5 meters high, the Dreadnaught stepped with unusual grace, the multiple barrels of it’s assault cannon shining in the dim light, the Powerfist deactivated and motionless at its side. Barcharius raised his fist in salute, and nodded as he saw the Dreadnaught cycle its cannon barrels in return.

He turned as he felt someone approach. Tennex, the company’s Librarian, approached. He bore an ancient rune encrusted staff, and his blue armor stood out as brightly as any. “Captain, I feel a taint here. Under this city. We have definitely come to the right place.”

Barcharius paused for a moment, mulling this over. “Good. Take squad Alkon and investigate. Purge the Unclean and the Unworthy, Brother.”

The librarian nodded, and turned. With a hand gesture, he summoned the squad assigned to him, and together they climbed into the Rhino the second Thunderhawk Transporter had just dropped off. It rumbled off into the distance.

Barcharius, flanked by his bodyguard of Veteran marines, entered the Senate Imperialis. The governer and the remaining of his staff were inside waiting for him upon the second floor.

The door flew open to the visitor’s lounge with enough force to crack the plaster around the hinges. Captain Barcharus strode in with his bodyguard, fury etched upon his face. “WHO is in charge here?” he demanded.

One man stood up. He was a small man, balding, visibly drained by the events happening to his planet. “I am, Planetary Governer Alnus Corynthos, at your service. We remain ever in your deb-“ he was saying as Barcharius cut the man off.

“And who is your senior military advisor?” he asked. Another man raised his hand and prepared to speak. At the subtlest of hand gestures from Barcharius, one of his bodyguard shouldered a bolter and put a round through the mans head. The crackWHAP of initial penetration, then detonation of the mass reactive shell was shockingly loud inside the building. The mans brains peppered the assembled dignitaries, shocking them into mute silence.

“That was for failing in his Duty,” began Barcharius. “For if you do not have the strength to fight for what is yours, you have no right to it. For one to cower while the Great Enemy advances is the greatest sin of all.”

“But, what of the destruction you have wreaked upon our fair city?” wailed one of the governer’s adepts.

Barcharius turned to look at him. With nothing but glacial sincerity upon his face, he slowly said “It is better to destroy it ourselves, then to have the Enemy overrun it. We can not allow them to pollute what is not theirs.”

“But, couldn’t we have fought them off?” asked the adept.


Allfather Grashul cackled moistly. He had retreated the Insalubrious to the outer system asteroid fields after being intentionally detected, drawing the system defence fleet Primaris away from the planet. He was currently stalking the Gothic Class, Pride of Sysyphus. She had become separated from her sister ship, the Pallas Athene in the asteroids, and he was closing in upon a kill. The longer he kept the fleet occupied, the closer he would come to the True objective. Praise be to the Grandfather.

17-03-2006, 22:10
Mystery! :confused:
Suspense! :eek:
Plague! :skull:
Next installment, please.

18-03-2006, 12:49
OK, Mr. Nid, further to your request...

1. Favourite bit so far: The bit where the judge wakes up in his possessed body. Such a cool idea. Also, the dreadnought, because dreadnoughts are just cool.
2. Least favourite: Not sure really.
3. What you'd like to hear more and less about: Well, the secret plot that Grashul is working towards, but then I guess you want to keep us in suspense. Also, it would be nice to keep abreast of how things are going for the ordinary folk (i.e., the not-Space Marines).
4. What you'd do differently: Not a clue... sorry. :p
5. Chapter 6: start wth land or space battle: Tricky, because I don't know how the whole story will unfold, and so I don't know which will be more important. My gut instinct is to go for Space Battle, because space battles are cool. :cool:

19-03-2006, 14:56
Ohh why cant u just write a book? =) ive would have buyed it for sure! and then i havent been kept waiting for the next wonderful chapter =)

23-03-2006, 07:54
Captain Barcharius followed the Governor down to the command center beneath the Senate building. Built to withstand all but the most punishing attacks, nonetheless cracks from the Marines Malevolent orbital strike lined the walls.

“Well Governor, tell me what you know.” He said. Activating the holoscreen, the governor’s aide drew up a three dimensional diagram of Mykenae.

“The planet is comprised of one major continent, with outlying Island systems. We have never been able to bring the Island nations within our rule, and as such, let them be. We have not heard anything since the Great Sickness began. Mykenae proper, however, is actually three large City States, semi-independent nations living under Imperial rule. We are currently in Mykinacium, where the outbreak originally occurred. The other two are Graekos and Spartos. Our pimary space port is in Graekos, and was captured by Heretic armor early on in the rebellion. As such, we have been starved for reinforcements. Spartos is almost untouched by the Heresy so far, only…” he trailed off.

“Only what?” asked Barcharius.

“Only, we’ve lost contact recently with Olympos, the Hive City. Most of Spartos is uninhabited, hence why the taint has not spread to that area of our planet. However, it does have on Hive of note. It was constructed early on in the planet’s colonization as a Geophysical resource center, harnessing power and raw materials from deep within the planet. Over the millennia it has grown to nearly three hundred million citizens. Last reports were the Adeptus Biologis were working on a cure for the Plague there.”

“What is the current military situation?” demanded Barcharius. “I need to know what we have to work with.”

“Most of our units are stationed in Mykinacium. However, before the space port fell we were able to be reinforced by the Chelonian 36th “Iron Spiders” Armored division, and the Chelonian 4th “Foehammer” Superheavy detachment. We have been having trouble holding the enemy in Mykenacium, and have been losing major ground. Captain, I recommend you start right here.”

Barcharius turned thoughtful for a moment, a scowl painted across his face. He turned to his personal scribe, and dictated “Get a list of all the currently active Loyalist units. Find any and all that have retreated, deserted, or shown cowardice in battle. Line the men up, and have every 10th man executed. Show them the cost of Cowardice.”

“What?!” blustered the governor. “You can’t do that!”

Barcharius flushed with anger. He turned upon the man, and bellowed into his face. “Cowardice begets Heresy, Governor! Whether a man is raising arms against the Holy Imperium, or does nothing to prevent others from doing so, the outcome is the same! Mykenae shall fall, Governor, if things continue as is. I shall raise this planet from its darkest hour, triumphantly returning Imperial Law to this troubled world!”

“But, those are innocent men out there!”

Barcharius’s face darkened with rage. His voice dropped to a forced whisper. “Are you questioning me, Governor? Are you in League with the enemy, the way you seem to want your planet to die? I can make that happen, Governor.” One of Barcharius’s body guards unholstered and cocked his bolt pistol, training it upon the man. Barcharius gestured for the marine to lower his weapon, that it would not be needed. Yet. “Innocence is a myth, Governor. Every man is guilty of something. If they will not fight out of Duty and Honor, they shall fight out of fear.” He turned to his aide. “You heard my orders. Decimate them."

23-03-2006, 19:26
you know your gonna have to complie all of this stuff once your done. can;t wait to read the entire thing in one sitting

23-03-2006, 19:53
Nice! Me likey, and it shows the unforgiving nature of the Malevolents well. Now... Let's get to the fighting!

23-03-2006, 20:39
Hmm I just have a few things to say:

First flesh out more areas like the riot, the Judge himself in the riot, possiably give the Dreadnought a bigger 'character introduction' and a few other things.

Other than those I am fairly enjoying the story and look forward to hearing more....

23-03-2006, 23:08
Don't worry, I'm pressuring him to release a Director's Cut once this is all done.

Warboss Garfang
24-03-2006, 00:42
Heh, nice.

That's what a Marine should do.

24-03-2006, 02:50
Well i want more CHAOS!!!

or ill just have to have a long chat whit papa nurgle.

24-03-2006, 10:42
Don't worry, I'm pressuring him to release a Director's Cut once this is all done.

I know, but Nid asked for constructive criticisms, so off I went and did that was asked :)

Tanith Ghost
26-03-2006, 06:51
I give this story so far a rating of five out of five cogs.

30-03-2006, 03:06
Sargeant Derek Hallbrook peered through the vision slit in his Chimera, Ole’ Faithful. His detachment of 5 Armored Fists squads rumbled through the streets of Illios, a city roughly 40 miles south of Graekos Space Port. They were on their way to assist the 4th Superheavy Division, who had reported heavy rebel contact. He felt claustrophobic, the streets barely wide enough for two chimeras abreast of eachother. His Chimera was third in the line. The royal blue of their armor matched the blue of his fatigues, their black turrets identical to his flak armor. The Chelonians took pride in their colors, refusing to use things such as camouflage.

“Possible contacts,” crackled the vox. “Keep an eye ou-“

Hallbrook noticed the cold barrel of the Heretic Vanquisher altogether too late. He tried to vox a warning to the lead chimera, but too late. The flash of a round being fired roughly three hundred yards away was all the warning they got. The hypervelocity round tore through the lead chimera like a hot knife through butter, blowing out the back hatch, and imbedded itself into the following command Chimera. Hallbrook instantly knew the first squad was dead from the way the Chimera mushroomed into a massive fireball, parts exploding off of it in a show of pyrotechnics. The command Chimera in front of him rocked violently, internal damage evident. The back hatch opened part way, only to jam, and he could see his commanding officer trying to clamber out the hole, screaming as the flames enveloped him.

“Ambush!” he screamed into the vox, as cries of the rear chimera being hit flooded the airwaves. A heretic had fired a missile out of one of the windows of the buildings they were driving through, blowing the track off. They were bottled in. He thought quickly, and threw the hatch’s release lever.

“Everybody out!” he yelled, as the ramp slammed into the street. He noted that the other two surviving Chimeras were automatically doing the same. Half his squad broke left, the other to the right, as they evacuated the trapped vehicle. Almost immediately they came under heavy caliber fire. Autocannon, Hallbrook guessed, judging from the rate of fire and how it tore holes into the Chimera’s armor. This foe had planned ahead. His squad’s stubber was horribly outgunned. The closest thing was Squad Quintus’s Missle launcher. Sprinting through the streets, he dove into cover into the doorway of a ruined hab building. Three of his squad followed him through the doorway.

After a minute or two, he heard the low diesel rumble of a tank engine firing up. Accompanying it came a broadcast recording of a chant. However, calling it a chant would be complimenting it. The noise was low and guttural, something no human throat could make. Wet and older than the dawn of time, the voice of Chaos blared forth from large speakers fitted to the Vanquisher. It inspired an automatic fear response in Hallbrook, and he checked the streets, He could see the tank coming closer, rumbling unapposed down the street. Flanking it were horrible, twisted versions of Imperial troopers. They were clad in dark greatcoats, spattered with gore. Their rebreathers were hooked to tubes disappearing into coats, the rubber wet and oozing. The one with no mask had terrific tusks jutting from his jaw, angry leprous lesions disfiguring the rest of his face. Patches of skull shone through his patchy hair, and a large rusted ceremonial sword dripped venom that hissed as it contacted the street. Hallbrook knew he was going to die here.

“Retreat!” he screamed in panic, his gorge rising in his throat as the first whiffs of decay reached him upon the foul, hot wind. As he exited the building at a sprint, he heard the terrible howl of turbofan engines from above. Glancing upward, he saw a flash of yellow and black arcing downward, landing in the street. It hit hard, ceramite boots cracking pavement, and went down to its knees. The Space Marine stood, assessing the situation. The giant was armed with twin gauntlets that bore crackling energy blades for fingers, and with a vox-enhanced “FOR THE EMPEROR!” it dashed forward on twin superheated jets of air, careening into the soldiers like an avenging angel. Another marine dropped out of the sky on his jump pack, landing squarely on top of the enemy Vanquisher. Attaching melta charges, he took off in a rush. The tank lit up like a flare as the melta charges detonated, cooking off the ammo within, obliterating the tank in a spray of shrapnel. Three more Marines came from the air, landing behind the last Chimera. They sprinted down the street, bolt pistols barking in their hands, gunning down the heretic ambushers. One vaulted onto Ole’ Faithful, and glared at Sargent Hallbrook, the emerald lenses of his helmet glinting wickedly in the half light.

“Forward for the Emperor!” bellowed the giant, and Hallbrook couldn’t help but be compelled to obey.

30-03-2006, 04:15
keep it up tyranid05,

im really enjoying it.

Warboss Garfang
01-04-2006, 02:57
Progressing well, keep up the good work!

10-04-2006, 03:12
MY GOD!! You must update soon. This is defiantly the best thing I've read in a long time

10-04-2006, 04:07
awww man,

that was a huge let down,
i thought he updated the story when i checked my user cp,

but it was just calebh124.


10-04-2006, 07:24
Only the best for my faithful viewers, I won't post a part if I feel it's sub par. Working....don't worry....teaser: future update will include dreadnaught on dreadnaught goodness....

Warboss Garfang
10-04-2006, 14:06
Can't wait, that sounds awesome!

10-04-2006, 20:53
Ooh, you're using the Dreaddies. Happy joy.

11-04-2006, 20:54
My internet is down for multiple days...been down since I last posted, some sort of hardware issue. I've been typing but no way to post it up, its not on this computer and so far can't seem to get it off of mine....Will post the next update ASAP.

Teaser #2: Never before have so few words said so much....

"Sir.....we have a Moral Threat."

Warboss Garfang
13-04-2006, 00:00
Darn! Well, I'll just sit here hoping really hard that your internet starts working really soon!

13-04-2006, 00:03
Back up, I'm finishing up this post now, it will be posted tonight after I get off work, ready for you guys bright and early tomorrow morning :D

13-04-2006, 01:39
Here's Veng. Got bored, drew. I came up with the chap anyway.

Everyone arts for Nid these days. May colour him.

13-04-2006, 09:47
Note: I didn't say it was This update with the dreadnaughts :p

Captain Barcharius was deep in discussion with General Obersk of the Chelonian Combined Forces when one of his men burst into the building they had secured as a command post. His armor was scorched with witchfire, and he appeared to have been wounded in the leg quite severely, but anything short of a mortal blow would not stay a Marine from his task.

“Tactical Sargeant Alkon, reporting Sir!” he said, making the sign of the Aquila over his breastplate.

“Report, Soldier.”

“Sir, we….found something beneath the city. We barely made it out alive. Our squad took heavy casualties, Marines Kran, Halten, Beratus, Mospetia, and Anxen are all KIA. We did however take a high level prisoner, sir. Librarian Tennex is guarding it back aboard the Cleansing Flame, Sir. He requests your presence.

“Can’t you see that I’m busy planning an invasion here?” bit Barcharius. “I have more important things to do than prisoner interrogations.”

“Sir, with all due respect, this one is…..different….”

With a sinking feeling, Barcharius asked how. Those six little words he dreaded to hear, and yet somehow knew he would, fell from the lips of Sargeant Alkon with the weight of a thousand battlefleets.

“Sir, we have a Moral Threat.”

Barcharius walked heavily down the hallways of the Cleansing Flame, dreading his visit to the detention block. The hall was ill lit, with the crackling light of the electrocandles casting a somber gleam to the plasteel bulkheads. The final door lay ahead, guarded by two of the chapters rare assault Terminators. Both were equipped with venerable Thunder Hammers and Storm Shields, an imposing, near impenetrable suit of armor equipped with the hard hitting punch of the Hammer could give any prisoner reason to pause. The doorway irised open, and Barcharius entered. The first thing Barcharius noted was Epistoliary Librarian Tennex, straining hard, nimbuses of light crackling from his eyes, mouth, and ears, witch lightning arcing across the surface of his armor. His face was strained, from the effort of containing the prisoner in its crystal prison. The cell was constructed of the same near impenetrable crystal that allowed Navigators to peer into the warp, psy-shielded and harder than diamond. And yet, still, Barcharius watched as gouges slowly carved their way into the crystal, five lines parallel from eachother, as if ghostly hands were clawing at the glass.

The prisoner was young. Maybe fourteen standard years. She was wizened, the power contained within her eating away her body. A sickly green-yellow light replaced her eyes, there was not a hint of soul left in her icy gaze. She floated off the ground in her hexagrammic restraints, chained in place. A look of bestial fury creased her features as Barcharius entered the room.

“Sir, she’s….strong…” grunted Tennex, as sweat rolled down his brow. Barcharius could smell ozone in the air.

“How strong, brother?” he asked.

“We….almost didn’t….get her in here….” Panted the Librarian.

Barcharius walked to the glass viewport and looked in. The beast that used to be a child psyker floated towards him until it reached the end of its chains. “Speak, foul one, and we shall grant you the Emperor’s Mercy that your Gods may not.”

The thing hissed, and spat out “Mercy Mercy quite not Mercy! Metal of Sky and Plague of Man, From whence the time ere All Began! Bring to End what has begun, Herald’s Cry brings back the One!” The sound came in four octaves, as if many voices were chanting the lyrical saying.

Looking at the Librarian, Barcharius asked “What do you think she means?”

Tennex thought for a moment while fighting back her will. “Metal…of sky…I believe she means….the Hive City. The One….their goal here….The End….not good…”

”Then to the Hive City we go!” shouted Barcharius, eager to bring the fight to the Enemy.

“Die you shall in Hell’s Gate, Under where Thee meets Fate! Darkness comes and Plague rules All, Soon Reign of Man shall come to Fall!”

“Dispose of that….thing…” said Barcharius, disgust creasing his chiseled face.

The beast seemed to know what they intended, for it then burst out in a string of nonsensical syllables. “Gzdhssn'nshakhlbhzzhhlkwyyk saeshareuaayyuanshthulg'gfolg'gulflbhn'nooq'uu uultlakcheehlaroaowdaoofoloaiouaegztlgzoasst!” Fire lept from her throat, as words of Power more ancient than the stars were uttered from a voice that was never meant to pronounce them. Tennex went down on his knees, blood pouring from ears, nose and mouth, klaxons blaring warnings of a psychic breach on the containment deck. Barcharius could feel her evil, thoughts of decay and destruction springing unbidden into his mind. He tried to force them out, and gazed in stunned inaction as he watched her transform.

Two taloned claws came out of her mouth. They peeled her jaws apart from inside, long, leprous arms sliding loose slicked with gore. An otherworldly howl roared from the summoned daemon as it continued to hatch out of the vessel it had been borne to. It shed the psyker as a butterfly might shed its chrysalis. The proportions were all wrong. Long, spidery limbs, a small wizened torso, a glaring lean head with a single cyclopean eye and horn, the Plaguebearer shook itself, pieces of rotting flesh spattering the walls.

It looked at Barcharius with a glare of pure malevolence, and stepped towards the glass.

13-04-2006, 13:32

top story!

Warboss Garfang
13-04-2006, 14:35
Yay! Demons! Good stuff man, deffinately worth the wait.

Tanith Ghost
13-04-2006, 20:55
Awsome stuff, Nid. Keep up the good work. :D :cool: If the Dread vs Dread
part is half as good as this, I'll nominate you for god.:D

13-04-2006, 21:06
Mmmm. Messy. :)

Keep it coming boyo.

15-04-2006, 22:00
Added a paragraph to the first post about the riot, and I'm working on the next installment as I type this.

18-04-2006, 10:44
Heh. Dread-on-Dread action. Are you sure they're not fighting the Emperor's Children? ;)

Anyways, this is an interesting twist, although the little girl must be a very powerful psyker to, untrained, beat a Librarian.
Hmm. Plaguebearer vs Librarian and Commander. This should be a tough fight. :rolleyes:

18-04-2006, 11:23
Very good story so far!

When will DG appear?

Hope there'll be plenty about them, since web doesn't really have much fluff about Mortarion's finest :D

Tanith Ghost
18-04-2006, 15:59
Heh. Dread-on-Dread action. Are you sure they're not fighting the Emperor's Children? ;)

Anyways, this is an interesting twist, although the little girl must be a very powerful psyker to, untrained, beat a Librarian.
Hmm. Plaguebearer vs Librarian and Commander. This should be a tough fight. :rolleyes:

The deizens of the warp are legion, and what appears to be a simple daemonic foot soldier could as well be something far more sinister.

As for the girl, an untrained alpha(certainly untrained, but the raw power an alpha weilds can give a librarian problems) at such a young age is possesion bait.

18-04-2006, 20:21
The thought was that this daemon is a Classical interpetation, not a rules interpretation, where their mere presence is enough to all but destroy mere men, and the overall force will be enough to stun stronger men. The Librarian is merely on his knees, as if struck by a blow, but he is by no means done.

The little girl was indeed meant to be strong, referenced by her posession.

There's also the matter of the two assault terminators outside the door.....the intention was to imply MAXIMUM threat, and therefore security.

Warboss Garfang
19-04-2006, 00:30
...such a young age is possesion bait.

Is that anything like jail bait? If so, count me in...

That said, I really thought you'd posted the next installment, I'm ridiculously excited about it!

15-05-2006, 06:48
Checking if there was still any interest in me making more....anyone? Or has it been too long?

Reign in Blood
15-05-2006, 07:31
I'm interested...this is great. Mind you I just read it in one hit so it may still be to long for more interest. But I think I deserve some more for reading it in one hit...don't you?:)

15-05-2006, 07:35
Working on the next update in that case.

17-05-2006, 22:21
Can't wait,

this threads one of the reasons i still check warseer.

17-05-2006, 23:27
Checking if there was still any interest in me making more....anyone? Or has it been too long?
Yes there is, and no it hasn't.

I'm still waiting for the DREADNOUGHTS.

21-05-2006, 21:48
Checking if there was still any interest in me making more....anyone? Or has it been too long?
I didn't sit there for half an hour reading so that I could get to the end and find out you weren't sure if you should continue. Of course there is still interest!

22-05-2006, 01:04
Wrapping it up tonight. Next post soon.

22-05-2006, 03:00
Everytime i see this pop up in my User Cp i get really excited,

especially when it says the last post was Nid,

but now i am here and dissapointed.

22-05-2006, 05:42
“Colonel Gotheberg, there is someone here for you. Urgent, they say.” Said the menial as he burst into the command tent. “Sir, they mean business! They….they’re Astaertes!” the scribe sputtered, his voice tinged with fear and awe. Gotheberg got up from his desk, his pencil-thin mustache quivering as his lip displayed his fear. So, this was it then.

Just then, the tent flap was thrown aside, and a figure from Legend stepped inside.

“Colonel, so glad we can finally meet,” boomed Tactical Sargent Gravian of the Marines Malevolent. Standing easily over seven feet high in his resplendent armor, the Marine cut an imposing figure.

“What do you want?” demanded the colonel with an aristocratic air. “I’m trying to plan an assault, and you’re taking valuable time!”

“Colonel, We don’t believe we actually need you any further.” Mentioned the Marine, quietly.

The air became still inside the tent. Seconds passed as Gotheburg considered this, and he turned from the Marine, and smoothed the front of his ornamental PDF uniform. “I….I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oberon Fields, ring a bell?”


“You abandoned the Grand Assault on the Space Port! You turned and ran, and abandoned your world to a fate worse than death. The Emperor watches, Colonel, and He has found you wanting. Take him.”

Gotheburg’s eyes opened wide as he heard the last two words, and he spun, sputtering, as two chapter serfs in the Marines Malevolent colors grabbed the colonel bodily and dragged him from the tent.

“No! Noooooo! Emperor Help me!” screamed the colonel, as he was dragged to the center of his base camp. Soldiers began gathering, amazed at the commotion. This was something else, the Adeptus Astaertes, creatures of myth and superstition, here, and apparently these myths made men had issue with the Mykenae Planetary Defence Force.

“Servents of the Emperor!” bellowed Gravian. “Watch as the Emperor’s Justice finds those who are too weak for Faith! Know that his fate will be yours if you abandon your Holy Duty once further!” The colonel squealed incoherent noises as he saw Gravian draw his bolt pistol, trying desperately to escape the iron grips of the chapter serfs. He struggled, and fell to his knees in the grimy mud as one of the serfs kicked his legs out from under him. “Emperor no, I don’t want to die!” he sobbed, snot and spittle running down his face.

“Then you should have done your duty. In Nomine Imperator, I sentence you. Due to your cowardice and failure to comply with your duty to the Emperor, the sentence is death, to be carried out immediately. May the Emperor have mercy upon your soul, for I will not.”

With that, Gravian placed the barrel of the bolt pistol on the doomed Colonel’s head, and pulled the trigger. The loud crack-whump of first the shell, then detonating brain pan shocked the entire gathering into silence.

“This man was no better than the Heretics you claim to fight!” bellowed Gravian to the crowd. “No longer shall you cower and run in fear, for the Marines Malevolent shall lead you to triumphant victory! This unit is now under my command, and you will all obey or face the Emperor’s Wrath!”

“Now,” he said, much quieter. “We have some reassigning to do.”

The main highway leading into Akropolis appeared as something out a nightmare. Every five feet for a dozen miles, on both sides of the highway, a body had been crucified upside down upon a rusted iron framework, large, wicked spikes hammered through wrist and ankle. Most bodies bore signs of mutilation, whether by boltgun, chainsword, or power weapon, not all cowards went quietly to their fate when cornered. Each body had an engraved brass plate nailed into their chest, labeled with such slogans as “Traitor,” “Heretic,” “Supporter of the Enemy,” “Deserter,” and other warning phrases to impress the level of dedication the Marines Malevolent portrayed. One would die in the Name of the Emperor, or die trying. Or just plain die. It made no difference to the Marines Malevolent, so long as Chaos was beaten back into the foul Empyrian from whence it came.

However, arrogance has its price. Such a massive display of slaughter had brought attention down upon the Capitol City. Dark intelligences began to take note. Plans were created and decided upon. The Endgame was nigh.

Reign in Blood
22-05-2006, 06:27
Absolutely captivating mate. Well done. Don't put your pencil down yet, we want some more (well I do at least, and thats all that matters). Keep it coming!!


22-05-2006, 11:08
Very dark! I like it.

Looking forward to the next bit!

Warboss Garfang
23-05-2006, 01:46
Very impressive. I dropped by today for the first time in a while, thought I'd say I like that last installment quite a lot.

27-05-2006, 00:58
I like it a lot. Please, continue!

02-06-2006, 23:33
amazing story nid. Hope your other projects wont prevent this one from beign finished, cos i want to see how it ends!

03-06-2006, 15:00
Bloody briliant Nid please do keep it coming.

04-06-2006, 01:01
I've got a lot of work and school thats slowing down the next chapter. Should be soonish....

04-06-2006, 12:50
You tease. I saw you name as the last poster and I thought you'd written more. :(

Well, good luck with the schoolwork. I eagerly await the next installment. :)

09-06-2006, 09:10
Good luck with school but man please update soon.

05-08-2006, 08:45
Flag-Captain Alenius Craetis looked on with pride at the bridge of his warship, the Pride of Sysyphus. The Gothic Class cruiser soared majestically through the void, half speed at present due to the high concentration of ferrous asteroids in his current quadrant. He had been chasing after the Repulsive class Grand Cruiser sighted in system, and it had led him here. He didn’t like the current situation, but he felt that if they managed to get the drop on the ancient behemoth, they might just have a chance yet.

“Helmsman, bring course round sixty four degrees starboard, nineteen degrees down. Clear that asteroid there.” He said quietly, his competent crew reacting as he said it. Inertial dampers prevented the majority of the ship’s movement from transferring throughout the crew, though there was still a slight tugging sensation.

Suddenly, the ships comms squealed into life. Every speaker began blaring loud, incoherent chanting. If sound could feel diseased, this sound did. Wet, phlegmy popping accompanied the deep voices, and while no one could understand the dark words being spoken, all knew the words were evil. Thick, tarry fluid began oozing out of the speaker grilles, as contamination alarms began blaring and airlocks began sealing the bridge off from the rest of the ship. As the sensors continued their mournful wailing, the ships comms began blacking out panel by panel, shutting the ship off from its scanner sweeps, leaving it essentially blind. The first thing the captain noticed over the daemonic noises emanating from his ship was the squealing of the proximity alarms. Moments later, twin torpedos slammed into the engines, detonating in a spectacular pyrotechnic display. As the rear third of the Pride of Sysyphus was immolated, they careened wildly. Power shut down, emergency red lighting bathing the chaos on the bridge in bloody twilight.

As screens flickered into static-filled life, Alenius Craetis felt his blood run cold as he watched the all-too-familiar diamond shape of a Repulsive-Class Grand Cruiser glide malevolently from behind an asteroid, merely a thousand kilometers away. It had lay in wait, powered down, anticipating the path of the Gothic’s sector sweep. And now its gamble had reaped the rewards.

“Damn their eyes,” cursed Craetis. “Why don’t they finish the jo…..” Stark realization hit him in a flash.


Master Sargeant Olan McTannon checked the action of his Mandrake pattern assault shotgun for the hundredth time, as his Valkyrie banked wildly to clear the treeline. He looked out the open jump bay, noting with grim satisfaction the precision, nape of the earth flying of the rest of the Airborne contingent. Eight Valkyries, each bearing the midnight blue and black livery of the Chelonian 42nd “Hellbenders” flew in tight formation, supercharged engines howling at the redline. They were coming in hot in the grim twilight, pilots gripping the controls tightly as they weaved and bobbed to stay below enemy radar.

The Hellbenders were the Chelonian Elite. Best of the Best. They trained day and night in brutal, up close insertions, where speed and surprise were paramount. Heavy armor and heavier weapons added a much desired punch to the already potent tip of the Chelonian War Machine. McTannon went over his gear again. Everything in its place. His tight midnight blue fatigues underneath heavy black carapace plate armor lent him and his men a serious look. Darkly, he scanned his squad. Rydell with the Grenade Launcher. Anderson with the Flamer. Everyone else outfitted with shotguns similar to his own. Everyone bore the heavy, distinct shapes of melta charges.

His detachment was being sent deep within enemy lines to eliminate a crucial ammunition dump fuelling most of Nurgle’s push upon Spartos. He knew all eighty of his Storm Troopers were not expected to make it back. The ammo dump needed to be destroyed. Recon indicated heavy mutant support, with heretic armor nearby.

The red Ready lamp winked on, indicating one minute to destination. “Men of Chelonia!” shouted McTannon into his vox, “Today we do the Emperor’s Work! Today, we bring justice and Redemption to a damned world! Strike swiftly and without mercy! Prepare yourselves for Hell, men, Hellbenders Style! Make no mistake, this is the big one!” A chorus of agreeing yells rung in McTannon’s ears as he sighed, and checked his grav-chute. Through the windshield of the Valkyrie, he saw the depot approaching.

Emperor, what a sight. Walls twenty feet high made from the corpses of the dead bound together with rusty barbed wire. Mutants, Heretics, the Damned, swarming everywhere like maggots upon a sun ripened kill. The green Ready lamp winked on below the red, indicating a fifteen second window to deployment.

“TEN SECONDS!” he shouted over the roar of the engines. They were under incoming fire now. Small arms pinged off the armored hulls of the Valkyries, larger anti-air fire tearing holes in some of the vehicles. They were over the walls of the compound now. No going back.

The Klaxxon was loud over the vox. The signal they were all waiting for. “GO! GO! GO! GO!” shouted McTannon, as his squad ran and jumped out the back of the Valkyrie as it settled into its most vulnerable VTOL state. The door gunners opened up with heavy bolters, the roar of the massive weapons fighting the roar of the enemies swarming to attack.

The Grav-chute kicked in, and he landed spryly on the ground. His squad fanned out in front of him, Rydell laying down a withering hail of shrapnel with his grenade launcher as they made their way for the nearest building. McTannon was nearly thrown from his feet as a heretic missle found his Valkyrie, detonating the flyer in a fantastic display of disintegrating metal.

“MOVE!” he shouted, as he unloaded three shotgun rounds full auto into a brute-mutant running at him wielding a combine harvester blade as a massive sword. He looked around. Three Valkryies lay in flames. He could see the twisted blue and black forms of some of the less fortunate of his detachment amidst the wreckage. Unknown casualties, but screams of the wounded and dying filled the vox.

Emperor, they were going to die here. They were all going to die.

08-08-2006, 01:36
yay, after a long abscense from the board i come back to another great chapter,

well done man.

08-08-2006, 09:42
Whoop! I missed that. Cheers Mr. Nid, another great installment.

14-10-2007, 23:13
Good story, ill be watching this

Brother Handro
16-10-2007, 16:47
Hey I've only just found this, please continue, it's really well written, high-quality stuff.