Extract from Space Marine story
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/
Talís 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
An acrid, ashen tang of burning and death hung heavily upon the air. Tasting itís
foulness, Talís 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 wouldnít 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
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 itís work and wanting more.
Thinking of the chainaxeís 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 Talís gravelly
voice uttered a final challenge
ďArgnall Gor, it is time to end your treachery, face me and die!Ē