View Full Version : The Damned

08-07-2010, 15:37
heres a little story i wrote about the chaos legion a mate and me are putting together the legion is called simply 'the Damned'
would apriciate feed back only a first draft :)

Nothing made me more alive than the thrall of a battle. I was alone in my cell, knelt before an altar to the chosen gods, my power armour being tended to by my artificer, I wore my simple robes, tattered and stained black, splatters of blood upon the cuffs, from where my body had to be cleansed.
Every Astartes under the command of Warlord Hangor went through the rites of Purification before each bloody conflict, it was a sign of devotion to the Fallen One, it was the highest ambition of all battle brothers upon Skorns Vengeance to become, more than Astartes, to be deemed worthy of possession by the demonic beings of the warp.
I muttered the prayers our Lord had taught us, and dragged an archaic blade across my body, carving deep the ancient symbol of our god, a pentagram, a symbol that was a beacon of hate upon terra so long ago.
I placed my bolter upon the altar, and let the blood from the blade fall upon it, to my blade I did likewise. Like my Armour my weapon was a relic, forged long ago it had come into my possession some time during the great heresy, I could not recall when or how, for as it was for the rest of our warband, the heresy was naught but a fragile memory, one that slipped easily from our minds.
I heard a knock upon my door; “Ita?” the door opened, a serf stood in the doorway; “My lord Halphas, your squad is requested upon the surface.” I nodded once, I looked once more to the altar and whispered; “I will show them how we hate.”
I rose and went in search of my artificer, shoving the serf out of my way I proceeded down the dark corridors of the ‘Vengeance’ it had at one point been a mobile cathedral, one of the many that drifted round this sector of space, for out here Imperial truth meant nothing, even the Loyalist chapters in these parts had their own faiths.
Once I had punished my artificer for not bringing my armour to me, I began to clad myself in my war plate, it had seen countless battles and countless murderous deeds, its spirit hungered for battle and the warmth of spilt blood, it was old by even the standards of most legions, Mk III iron armour, it was bulky, but not overly so, it granted more protection than all but the newest marks of armour.
Only the helmet had been salvaged, it was from one of the newer suits, but heavily modified. It was in the legion colours, the darkest shade of red, outlined by a black that melded with the shadows, each brothers armour had etched upon it verses from the holy writings of our father, displayed in archaic ruins and punctuated by his holy symbols.
I made my way to the bowels of the ship, from where the pods were launched. As I grew nearer I saw my brothers; “About time.” Grimal voxed “I was in the middle of my rites” I explained, they presented me with no further questions, “Let us be under way” I said, they followed my lead.
I was in no way their superior, our sergeant was killed many moons ago, but I could see respect in their eyes when they looked upon me, all except Grimal, I saw in his eyes a constant need to beat me at everything, we had grown up on the same world and we recruited together, he was the closest thing to family or friends I had.
Our world had been rank with all assortments of pitiful religions and cults all of them ignorant of the ways of the father, and when the corpse Gods armies tried to subdue them and take from them their beliefs they fought with bloody abandon, only to be slaughtered by the Wolves of Russ, we had no idea the legion from which we came, for it concerns us not, we live only to serve our father, and to further his word.
I stepped into the pod as did the rest of the squad, there was me, Grimal, Belial, Korth and Astron, we had once been ten Astartes strong until only a short while ago. But we had our faith and it would see us through.
As the pod rocketed towards the surface, my body began to surge with a murderous joy, a lust for battle, to prove myself to the legion and the father.
Within a heartbeat the pod smashed into the earth, the harnesses were flung open and weapons were primed, all before the ramps smashed into the earth. We had landed right in the middle of an imperial bunker, with feverous joy I let my bolter kick in my hands sending the bolts flying, tearing the limbs from the terrified guardsmen; the las shots did little more than scorch my armour.
We began to cut a bloody path through the guards lines toward the main force, bellowing praises as we went, I emptied round after round into the loyalist scum, and brought my sword down upon the non believers.
The spirit within my armour was singing in joy as we slaughtered all around us, Grimal was upon a lone guardsmen disembowelling him with his gauntleted hands, the soldier thrashed and shouted in pain, smashing his fists of the giants armour, in a desperate attempt to free himself, Korth to my left had acquired a flamer and set about scorching all around him, laughing manically as he did so.
Both Astron and Belial had engaged a sentinel detachment they felled the mechanical beasts one by one and set about slaughtering their occupants. I let the battle lust take me, my body coursed with unholy wrath, I let forth a feral roar and set about slaughtering all in my path, I cut my way towards a Russ executioner and hammered wildly at its armour, I bellowed and roared at the top of my lungs prayers and oaths of vengeance.
And that its when our father blessed me, I felt my body warp and writhe beneath my armour, I felt the spirit in my armour roar with pride as it began to meld with the soul of a daemon, and I began to change.
The pain was excruciating, my bones shattered and reformed in the manner the host saw fit, after several agonising minutes my body had been broken and reformed, horns ranged from my head, my gauntlets shattered as demonic claws broke from the ceramite, the colour of midnight, my helmet had shattered, but I felt, like me, my body was that of a demon but my mind was my own, in all the tales I had heard the Astartes that was possessed was no more, the daemon took control.
For now I paid this little head, all around me guardsmen laid bare their arms and fled, I paid them no mind I set about finishing what I had started with my new physiology I rent the tanks armour with ease I then planted a frag within its hull and leapt for cover.
I watched as for a brief moment the tank shook as it was racked by internal explosions, and then exploded in a dazzling pyrotechnic display.
I searched for the remains of my helm, I found it en feet from where I stood, I yanked the vox unit from it a bellowed; “MEN ON ME! WE MUST SHOW THESE DOGS HOW WE HATE!” within the minute they were around me, each stood in silent awe I laughed, a rumbling grinding sound I raised my head towards the sky of our homeworld, that we had fought so bitterly to reach and now to conquer and bellowed; “Long live the Fallen One!”

By Richard Duffy.

08-07-2010, 15:38
note Ita means yes in latin, was going for the whole gothic feel xD

Drakcore Bloodtear
08-07-2010, 15:50
Looks good (only scanned it)
but shouldn't this be in 'Stories and Art'?

Son of Sanguinius
08-07-2010, 15:50
Unless you're going for a stream of consciousness thing, your grammar needs some work. The general idea for the story is very cool and I can see where you are going with it, but the actual transcription here needs a lot of fine tuning and proper punctuation.

And don't think I didn't notice the username pillaging!

(Just teasing ;) )

08-07-2010, 15:55
ha yeah grammar and punctuation were never my fortay thank the gods for spell check lol, yeah i rushed this, for now im just going to finish it off then go back and edit it a bit, there are some points i havent made as clear as i'd like xD

09-07-2010, 00:43
hey thats cool, liked it alot