View Full Version : Dark Beginning

04-06-2005, 23:14
Distinctly work-in-progress, much more still to come. Still, thought I'd put up what I have at the moment for perusal. Also not very happy with that title, though the reason for it will become apparent later...


The missile screamed through the air, slamming into the lip of the trench. The crude warhead detonated, spraying the occupying troops with mud. Bullets whined above their heads, Imperial Guardsmen cowering, clutching Lasguns to their chests like the weapons were lucky charms.

Vadyon Antaeus stood upon one of the metallic ladders, levelled his Bolter one handed, depressing the trigger to send a hail of mass-reactive rounds shrieking towards a group of Orks charging across the thick, wet dirt and muck of the no-man’s land. The bolts detonated, shredding chest cavities and evaporating skulls, dropping greenskin corpses to the ground. Guttural war cries filled the air as more of the foul alien spilled towards the Imperial emplacement, firing their crude guns into the air.

“Brother Captain, we have contacts inbound from the east. They must have come around, trying to flank us!”

The Brother-Captain of the Deathwatch turned to the black-armoured form that stood beside him. “Aye, Brother. I see them. Epsilon squad, advance ten metres and take up firing positions. Onwards, sons of the Emperor!” he bellowed as he turned his gaze upon the human troops huddling in the trenches, raising his Power sword into the air and leaping over the lip of the trench. Their timidity forgotten, roars of enthusiasm erupted from Imperial throats, adrenaline flowing through the systems of Guardsmenwho poured into the zig-zagging bullets of no-man’s land like a living tide as the squad of Space Marines charged towards the greenskins’ lines, Bolters flaring, shell casings clattering into the thick mud. Beside him, a Guardsman's head jerked back, the man splashing into the earth. Scarlet lasfire shrieked as it lanced towards the hordes of aliens.

Battle Brother Valiance knelt, levelling his Heavy bolter as a mob of the disgusting Orks came into sight. The heavy gun roared as a hail of rounds slammed into the ranks of alien, blowing apart body armour and inhuman flesh, dark blood spattering the muddy earth. Antaeus saw, out of the corner of his eye, Brother Agamorr take up a firing position, his Bolter’s M40 targetter sweeping a red beam across the alien horde. A crack, and an Ork’s head exploded, the Deathwatch Marine’s round ripping through its thick skull. The Brother-Captain gritted his teeth as a bullet clanged off the shoulder guard of his ornate power armour, ricocheting away into the night. He pulled the trigger of his Bolter again, inferno bolts rippling towards their targets on blue-white streams of internal propellant.

This is what I live for…

05-06-2005, 12:01
Aridann, Ivory Guards Chapter Fortress Monastery

The imposing, dark blue-armoured form of Sergeant Arik Melekie cast a shadow over the row of new recruits. The Ivory Guards Space Marine slowly walked along the rank of young men, who stood rigid, unmoving. He turned to Arcaxa, the wizened Chaplain who stood next to him as he examined the latest group of potential Space Marines. The finest athletes of their homeworlds, runners, hunters, fighters: warriors. But good enough to serve the Emperor in the Adeptus Astartes?

“I am unconvinced, Father. They are not, I feel, up to the usual standard.”

Arcaxa arched a grey eyebrow. “So quick to judge, Melekie, so quick to judge. They are strong, fit, hardy: in what way would you deem them inferior?”

The Sergeant’s face contorted in a grimace. “They seem…I am not sure what it is, Father, I have to admit. It is just that none of them seem exceptional in any way. They are good specimens, yes, but…none of them really stand out as warrior material.”

A thoughtful look crossed Arcaxa’s weathered face. The old Chaplain took a step towards the line of recruit, deep, dark eyes scanning across the ranks of youths that stood there, motionless, attentive. Then he drew back his hand, and slapped the closest of them across the face. Half the line jumped, the boy collapsing to the ground, holding his cheek.

“We have no use for warriors who cower from danger. Leave.” The Chaplain’s voice was calm. The youth pushed himself to his feet, shaking from head to toe, and ran out of the assembly hall. Arcaxa walked a few more steps down the line, then again lashed out at the closest youth. The punch cracked bone, and the youth turned his head to the side, spitting bloodied teeth, but held his ground, staying on his feet, bringing his eyes back up to those of the Chaplain.

Arcaxa remained still for a moment. “Your name?“

The boy’s lip trembled, but he finally managed the words. “H..Halkon, sir.”

“Halkon…” A little nod, and he moved on. “See, Melekie. Some of them have resilience, courage. The mind is as important as the body, remember.”

Melekie nodded. “Yes, Father, you are correct.”

“You are right to be pessimistic about the shape of these “athletes” - many of them are indeed inferior stock. But you never know…” His voice trailed off as he again brought his hand up to strike one of the youths in the face, and angry red mark appearing on the brown-haired, lean young man’s cheek. Arcaxa glanced at the youth’s reaction: again, the new recruit had held his ground, looking the Chaplain in the eye, then turned to speak to the Sergeant once more. “Again, one who…”

The Chaplain’s voice trailed off as a fist slammed into the side of his face. The blow was powerful, but the Chaplain’s head was barely moved, the Space Marine’s face muscles tightening instantly upon the impact. Even so, the fist’s arc caught the side of his lip, causing a small cut. The Chaplain did not move for a moment. Then he brought his armoured hand up to his lip, touching it, and looking as the little spot of blood. Finally, the black-armoured Space Marine turned around to face his attacker, the young man he had just tested.

For a few seconds, silence reigned, the rest of the youths’ and Melekie’s eyes looking at Arcaxa and the young man who was holding his gaze, muscles bunched in his jaw. A couple of recruits shuffled away slightly, tensed, ready for the worst.

Then Arcaxa spoke. “What is your name?”

The recruit’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Vadyon, sir. Vadyon Antaeus.”

Again Arcaxa was unmoving for a few seconds. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Antaeus. I like you, Vadyon Antaeus. You have spirit. That is good. You will need all that spirit in the coming weeks.” He turned to Melekie. “Come, Brother. Let us leave the new recruits to their deliberations” he smiled again. “And keep an eye on young Antaeus. He has the potential. I am certain of it.”

05-06-2005, 12:24
This is some good stuff Antaeus. Lets see some more.


05-06-2005, 21:17
Ooh, i like. Very nice. It's nothing special, but it's nice and interesting. :)

Btw, "Melekie" sounds silly to Dutchies, in 'Dutch' it'd mean 'little milk'. :p

Rating: 3,5/5

05-06-2005, 21:19
*blink* Good time to check Stories and Art...

Ah. Didn't know that. The name was made up by another Faithful and the Damned contributor when he wrote a piece about how Antaeus (I write about him in FatD as well) had met the Necron Lord he wrote about.

Just explaining :) More planned.