Hi folks, this is a writing extract I'm considering sending in to the Black Library submissions. All feedback welcomed and wanted. You can find out more on my blog- http://dicegodsarehungry.blogspot.co.uk/

Enjoy!

Ruinators

Tal’s arms burned white hot with fatigue. Movement was agony, a searing brand


sending lashes of pain through his broad Astartes shoulders, thick slabs of Space


Marine muscle twitching after expending too much energy.




There was a steady drip, a mixture of sweat and blood trickling down his scarred


forehead and falling over his left eye, missing the cerulean orb and trailing crimson


watermarks over the blue-black cheekbone beneath. The splashes of blood contrasted


with the darkness of the bruising as if it were a piece of horrific artwork.




A long gash split his short hair. The raw flesh of his scalp was exposed and leaking


the red trail down his forehead. Most of his right ear was missing, the unnaturally


neat cut and cauterised flesh clearly the work of a power weapon.




This recent facial disfigurement was not the end of his injuries. The exposed flesh of


his head mirrored the damage wrought to his power armour. The scored and battered


mark seven plate showing through a dull grey ceramite. Only patches of the original white


and red paintwork were left untouched.




Without the blessed power armour, and his superhuman astartes physique, many


mortal blows would already have ended his life. However Karridan Tal was no mere mortal.




He was no mere astartes either. He had served as Assault Captain of the Ruinators


Chapter for almost a century, and had spent nearly another century and a half


persecuting the Emperors enemies. First into battle, last out. Nearly two hundred


and fifty years of constant warfare, deathly descents into carnage and blood soaked


assaults. And never had he been so close to death as he was now.




Tal was still standing on pure willpower and despite the grievous injuries he had


suffered, he had still wreaked utter carnage upon his opponent.




The renegades' Terminator armour was criss-crossed with deep gouges, the hallmark


of chainaxe blades swung with brutal strength. The terminators' left lightning claw


had been rendered useless and now sparked fitfully as it hung at an unnatural angle,


the arm above it nearly sheared off at the elbow. The hulking suit of armour whined


noisily as it attempted to compensate for the damage rendered to it, creating a


background noise of whines and clicks, the death cries of tortured machinery.




The tactical dreadnought armour was also painted white and red ,where it had not been


chipped and torn from the ceramite plating.




Tal and the terminator stood a short distance apart, two wounded gladiators


recovering their breath amongst the ruinous amphitheatre they had created.




This arena had been the peaceful garden plaza of a hab block, but now resembled a


form of hell. Burning buildings, shattered walls. Once-pristine grass was churned and


blackened with bodily fluids and littered with spent bolter casings and armoured


bodies.




An acrid, ashen tang of burning and death hung heavily upon the air. Tasting it’s


foulness, Tal’s sore lungs coughed up the carcinogens threatening his insides and


wracked his ravaged chest whilst trying to draw in cleaner air.




This momentary lull in proceedings wouldn’t last, so Tal took stock of his weapons.

The chainaxe he held in his left hand was of no more use as an axe, only as a maul as


most of its teeth were either broken or missing. The motor powering the blessed


assault weapon was long since spent attempting to bite through the renegades thick


terminator armour.


His other chainaxe, clenched in his right fist, was virtually unharmed. The master


crafted weapon was a relic of the Ruinators chapter, a badge of office wielded by


every assault captain since their founding. Though it was covered in gore and


ceramite filings torn from his opponents armour the teeth glistened razor sharp and the


ancient motor powering it idled smoothly, almost seeming to purr as though happy


with it’s work and wanting more.




Thinking of the chainaxe’s hunger snapped Tal back into focus. His burning gaze


glaring once more at the nemesis before him, action followed thought as Tal began a


limping run to return to within striking distance of the terminator and Tal’s gravelly


voice uttered a final challenge


“Argnall Gor, it is time to end your treachery, face me and die!”