The Pride Goeth Before the Fall...

[TyrantKaiser]

+++The Pride Goeth Before the Fall+++

++The Story of the Fall of the Alpha Knights++

 

The slugs smashed into the rock which Claudius had been standing moments before. "Claudius, you fool! Stay down!" The Sergeant shouted at the Marine. "I don't need my scouts to die because they are too prideful, or, perhaps, simply too stupid to stay in cover!"

 

"I don't need to be afraid of those greenskins! They can't aim well enough to hit a battle barge! And the Emperor protects me!" The scout replied.

 

"It's foolishness like yours that caused the predicament we're in right now!" The Sergeant said, while taking a grenade from his chest armor and throwing it at the Wartrak that was firing upon the squad. He was satisfied to hear an explosion and scream of pain, after which he stood up and fired his sniper rifle at the oncoming Orks. His squad followed suit and then they all hid behind cover again to reload. "You are just going to repeat our mistakes if you don't wise up!"

 

"What mistakes would those be? Being too confident and faithful? If those are mistakes, then the entire Imperium should be destroyed by now!"

 

"You have no idea what I've been through. What we, no, the WHOLE CHAPTER has gone through! Speak not of what you know nothing of!" The Sergeant clipped his rifle to the back of his belt and drew his chainsword and bolt pistol, just in time to greet the first few Choppa Boyz with the grinding teeth of his sword and the burning fury of his pistol. The Sergeant turned round to the attacking Boyz and charged at them with a mighty roar. His squad followed him, slightly surprised at the wrath of their Sergeant who was usually so calm and wise. In a few moments the Boyz were slaughtered and the squad relocated to a new location with much heavier cover. A quick survey of their surroundings told them that no Orks knew their location, and they took out their rifles and began to pick at the Nob leaders. "What happened was terrible, indeed, and I realise that I made a mistake in keeping the story from you all. I am your Master, and it is my duty to pass everything I have onto my Apprentices before they become Brothers themselves. Even my memories. But this is no memory; it is a story that I have put together from my own memories and the memories of others. And now I give it to you." The Sergeant blew the head off of one particularly large Nob and turned away from the battle around him to his charges. They turned round as well, now giving their full attention, even Claudius, who was skeptical of the whole event. They worked on their equipment, reloading their rifles and pistols and cleaning the dirt off their swords. Echoing blasts and yells and screams filled the air, flying dirt and stray bullets abound, a bloody sunset on the horizon and a green tide filling up the lands, but the unit could hear their Master as well as if they were in meditation with total silence.

 

===

 

There. That's the beginning. By the way, the Alpha Knights are my DIY chapter. Please critique this and tell me what I can do better.

[TyrantKaiser]

"It began a short time before the battle on Gaius VIII. Our chapter was traveling to Gaius VIII to harness the brutal environment there as a perfect chance to put our Apprentices through trial. Gaius VIII was a frozen planet, which had a large Imperial presence on due to the huge reserves of Adamantium hidden deep beneath the ice on the surface. The planet was roughly twenty times as large as our Holy Terra. The normal temperature was cold enough to kill a man if he was not completely insulated from the environment, and even then he would be dead within a matter of minutes. Only a controlled environment could keep a man from death. The ice itself was so polluted that even when boiled the water would still be lethal to a man. Cursed creatures prowled the open tundras. It was perfect for a trial to earn one's power armor."

 

===

 

"Gaius VIII? I do not know of such a place. Is it a major planet?" Asked Evaniel, the captain of the Luna.

 

"It's not far from where we are now. We have several Apprentices in need of a trial, and that planet is surely dangerous enough. I shall instruct the fleet of our course. Prepare for landing, Captain. You will go down with the Masters and Apprentices to organize the trial. You will take one squad of Lunar Knights equipped with Tactical Dreadnought Armor. They will guard you personally. I will also send Riech and Codicier Ghent. Report in at daily intervals, and stay wary. There have been unconfirmed reports of cults and suspicious activity within the Imperial Guard stationed there. "

 

"Very well, sir. Evaniel out." Evaniel switched off the communicator and rested his forehead on his hand. I loathe Riech. He always talks down to me as if I was just a servitor. He thinks so highly of himself. He walked to his personal Servitor. "Tell the techmarines to ready my armor." The Servitor gave a beep of affirmation and set off to its task. Evaniel turned and sat down in his personal chair. "Emperor, guide me."

 

---

 

The aspiring Brother, Laurien, strapped on his last gauntlet. He checked his carapace armor for any missed pieces or straps, and then took the bolt pistol held out by the techmarine and the sword with it. He sheathed his sword and clipped his pistol to his belt. He silently took the full face mask, goggles and headset, then put them on one after the other. He stepped onto the Thunderhawk Transport with the other hopefuls, and he took hold of a handle attached to the top of the craft.

 

"Well, I know I'll pass the trial easily, but I don't know about you others. My faith and strength will guide me!" One Apprentice bragged vainly. Laurien shook his head at the fool, and knew that the fool was lost, and that he was just a waste of geneseed. Of course, what else would one expect from a Chapter which was as bad as he was? The amount of arrogance and foolishness that the Chapter possessed because of a few awesome victories a long time ago was stifling. He closed his eyes and muttered a small prayer to the Emperor for guidance.

 

---

 

The man made his way through the cluttered fortress, avoiding the crying children and the dark faces of people who have been ripped from their homes and have nowhere else to go. He stepped over a sleeping baby and sidestepped a running woman. He reached his destination and took the large case of ammunition from his back and set it down next to the heavy bolter which was firing at the oncoming tarantuloids. "Oh, thanks Terriao, we were running pretty low! Those things just keep coming! A needle's already taken out one gunner, and I don't have any more spare men! You just stay here until something happens... Y'know, if som-"

 

BOOM

 

+++

 

Another segment. Did anyone like it? Not like it?

[Marshall Strat]

I like it. It's a good start. Let's see some more.

[TyrantKaiser]

"The Tarantuloids were oddly similar to Holy Terra's long extinct Tarantulas. They were documented and named by the Librarians of the Dark Angels when the chapter purged the planet of Chaos centuries ago. The female Tarantuloids were about fourteen feet tall and as wide as a Predator tank. They were white like the ice of the surface, with countless amounts of needle-like hairs that served to protect the creature, but the hairs served another, more sinister purpose. Like the Terran Tarantulas, the Tarantuloids jettisoned their hairs for self-defense. Each needle contained trace amounts of a potent tranquilizer that could put a Space Marine out cold within minutes. Tarantuloids fed on other creature's bodily fluids after tranquilizing them. The needles were sharp enough to pierce flak armor like butter and somehow there always seemed to be more and more needles beneath the last ones. Tarantuloids also packed a scorpion's tail that could rip through vehicle armor. The needles provided armor enough to extremely soften bolter rounds, and the thick exoskeletons beneath the needles took the rest of the force. Because Tarantuloids did not rely on heat of any kind to survive, the body could be as cold as the air outside, and remain unchanged. They reproduced like Terran spiders and thus quite literally swarmed the planet constantly with the rapid rate of reproduction. Male Tarantuloids, however, were far more fearsome beasts. Usually thirty feet tall, they typically remained in their caverns in the ice, but they were randomly disturbed by the mining operations and they attacked too.

 

The Tarantuloids were extremely territorial, and they constantly attacked the mining sites on Gaius VIII with regularity rarely seen. Thus the seven regiments of guardsmen were needed to guard the mining sites, and even then life was a constant struggle. Land was taken and lost constantly, people were forced to evacuate and repopulate, and life was literally a hell for humans there. The mining sites were surrounded by huge fortresses and those surrounded with cities and they trenches and outposts. At one fortress, Yslandian, the rugged men of the 7th Gaius Warfighters held a desperate stand against the Tarantuloids after having been pushed back to their last line of defense. Being the last regiment, they were the most poorly equipped and even more poorly supplied. But these things somehow combined to make them the toughest men on the planet."

 

===

 

BOOM

 

"..."

 

BOOM

 

"......"

 

BOOM BOOM BOOM

 

"....?"

 

The guardsman called Terriao groaned and opened his eyes. His ears ringed, his body ached and his head felt like it had been crushed beneath an Ork's ass. Vision was blurred and discolored. He blinked a few times and uttered a small whimper. He could finally see again, but he could hear again too. He heard screams and cries of help, explosions in the distance, and the roars of someone or something. He was under a slab of concrete, with a ton of debris around him holding the slab up. He was in his own little niche. Then he realised the debris around him was not debris. It was bodies. He could see legs, arms, heads, hands, feet, chests, and splattered gore everywhere. He screamed. He screamed again. He fell into a panic, banging on the slab of concrete above him, trying to break free of his prison. He pounded the slab until his hands were bloody and bruised. He stopped screaming, falling into a sobbing trance, unable to move in his horror and despair.

 

Time passed, and the sounds of war died away. Terriao shuddered as the cold from outside wrapped around him, trying to convince him to sleep. His suit was fully insulated and came with a small personal heating unit, but it wasn't enough to defeat the cold. He felt the protective(and more importantly, insulating) face armor built into his helmet, moving his fingers over it. He had stopped sobbing, and was silent. He laid, wishing there was enough room to curl up. He looked around him, searching for something he could eat. He saw an opening, one he could force himself through and he cursed himself for not looking around all the way earlier. He crawled through the hole with a little difficulty, but he made it. When he got outside he regretted leaving his sanctuary immediately.

 

Bodies and debris were piled everywhere around him. Where there was once a mighty fortress, there was now nothing. Nothing. He looked to the mining site but there was nothing there either. He couldn't cry, nor scream. He was all out of tears and fear. Now he was as empty as he had ever felt. He felt no emotion, as this was a place of no emotion. Only death. He looked down at his squad's remains, at the remains of the innocent civilians, at the small pile of flesh where there was once the baby and he felt sick. Really sick. He took off his helmet, the air inside the suit escaping with a hiss, and he threw up. Many times. The cold was killing him, despite the thick cloth mask he wore with only the mouth and eyes exposed, and he quickly put his helmet back on. He stumbled, the cold of the outside having finally got to him, and he collapsed.

 

He struggled to stand, not ready to give up, especially now that he had been turned into nothing. Nothing cannot die, he told himself. He stood up, exhausted and quite prepared to sleep forever, but his spirit refused. He took a step forward and grabbed the lasgun laying before him, slung it over his back, and he grunted as his body ached with no remorse while it regained feeling from the cold. He literally hurt all over, but he forced himself to move. He seized the fine sword from the body of his sergeant, as well as a belt with supplies and grenades and such. He took the laspistol and the holster still attached to the body and put them on himself, then he walked to a half-standing building and rummaged through it for a first aid kit. He found the medical supplies in the still intact basement and applied them to himself. He closed the large steel door and activated the electronic lock, then stumbled down the stairs and laid down in a corner under the stair way. He grumbled as he grabbed some crates and moved them around himself to stay hidden, then he laid back down again and fell asleep quickly, as the room was still heated and he had recovered from the hypothermia thanks to the strenuous work. His dreams were terrifying. It was a hard night.

 

+++

 

And so the story of Terriao develops. It's good to know I have an audience.

[Marshall Strat]

Nice segment.

[TyrantKaiser]

"Of course, even the toughest men were still naught but men. They stood, but they did not stand for long. The entire place was annihilated, but it was not by Tarantuloids. They were pawns, incapable of destroying the mighty walls of the fortress on their own. Nay, a far more sinister force was at work, and it threatened to destroy the entire planet... And everything around it.

 

The Apprentices and their Masters landed in a barren icy plain, far from any civilization. They stepped off of the Thunderhawks and began establishing a small forward base. Besides the Apprentices taking their trials, there was a captain, chaplain, librarian, and a squad of the Chapter's finest warriors clad in Terminator armor, along with other Apprentices there to learn from the planet, as it was not their time to be trialed. The first group of Apprentices was divided up and sent in different directions and the commanders awaited a small group of marines to secure the area before they traveled to the capital city to meet the governer there, as per tradition whenever the Chapter landed on a planet."

 

===

 

Laurien walked deeper into the dark tundra. The task set to him by his master was to survive for 3 days without accepting help from any source, with only the things he carried with him as he began, to take on a Tarantuloid and bring back its tail, and find his way back. Not too bad for a trial, considering some of the stories he'd heard. He kept walking, the extremely sub-zero temperatures heavily affecting even a Space Marine like him.

 

"Couldn't give me a blasted heater..." Laurien grumbled. A blizzard attacked, and the buffeting snow forced the Marine to stop in his tracks and wait for the massive storm to pass. He decided to rest, because the storm showed no sign of clearing. He shut down most of his brain and then sat in a meditative state.

 

Two days passed. Laurien was still waiting for the blizzard to pass. It was unnerving to have a snow storm for so long. He assumed that it was due to the unstable atmosphere and the sheer size of the planet, but that was his mistake. He assumed.

 

He heard a sound that sounded eerily like an incoming... Artillery shell. He stood up immediately, looking around, trying to see through the weather. But it was too late, and the explosion next to him put him down.

 

---

 

The Apprentice who was not taking a trial listened to his Master tell the end of the story of his own trial. "And after killing all of those Orks, a vicious Nob appeared. I had to square off against him, and it was not easy. I barely survived, thanks to a little unfair trick. We were dueling, and when our weapons clashed and locked together, I took my bolt pistol and shot him in the face! It was so underhanded, so dirty, it felt like I had cheated, but now I see it was not cheating. There is no cheating in war, only innovation." The Master had said this many times before. He took pride in the smallest of things. The Apprentice woke up the parts of his brain that he had put asleep, which were mostly all of them. He always privately chuckled at this, as he had heard stories of early humans on Terra who didn't pay attention and they "turned off their brains" when spoken to. How odd that he would be literally doing that. He asked his Master to spar with him and his Master agreed, saying he was becoming bored of stories.

 

The pair left the camp to find a more private location for their sparring. Of course, the Master was wearing power armor to the Apprentice's carapace armor, but the Apprentice was to learn and this was the best way to do it. They both dropped their weapons, the Apprentice packing a sniper rifle, a bolter, and one of those over-sized knives that Space Marines are so fond of, while the Master carrying a bolter and his chainsword. The Apprentice silently assumed the basic hand-to-hand combat stance of the dicipline that the Chapter taught all of its Marines. The Master followed suit, and they quietly traded mighty blows that would kill a normal man in an instant. Of course, the Master won the first bout, but the Apprentice recovered quickly. The next bout brought the same results. Round 3 was another loss for the Apprentice, but the Apprentice was no slouch. He was a challenge for his Master, for he possessed a natural talent in combat of all sorts. However, experience and the power armor proved to be more than the Apprentice could handle time after time.

 

In the middle of a fierce battle, something far off exploded. The pair stopped immediately, and they gathered their stuff. They went to investigate and found the forward base under attack. But they were too far away to see what it was. However, it was obvious that the forces there could not stand up to the attackers, as there were explosions everywhere. The Master told his faithful Pupil to stay. The Pupil refused. The Master charged the Pupil with insubordination. The Pupil said nothing. The Master told the Pupil it was because of his pride that he had to fight. The Pupil told the Master that pride only made people die. The Master punched the Pupil. The Pupil told the Master he needn't go and die because of something so trivial as pride. The Master said that pride was everything. The Pupil lowered his head. The Master gave the Pupil his chainsword, knowing and telling that he would not come back from his prideful charge. The Pupil took the chainsword and turned away, first walking then running at full speed. No goodbyes were said, and the weird but powerful bond between Apprentice and Master was broken. Now he was Apprentice was no longer, as the other was Master no longer. They were only Space Marines.

 

+++

 

Experimenting with an odd form of writing, with little dialogue. Hope you could understand it well enough. Ciao.

[TyrantKaiser]

"The camp was rapidly overrun by the attackers. There was nothing the lone Marine could do, and he knew it. He turned his back on the camp, and trekked off into the night."

 

===

 

The Space Marine marched for days, looking for some civilization from where he could contact his chapter to tell them what had happened. But the massive planet was too much for him, he was forced to admit. Mile upon mile he walked, but to no avail. He was falling to the cold, which was seeping into his core. The wind was blowing harder than ever before. The giant shivered harder and harder with each step. He fell to his knees, all knowledge of his surroundings gone. His head crashed onto the solid ice, losing conciousness and feeling at the same time.

 

...

 

The Marine awoke. He looked at his new location with a calmness unusual to himself. He did not know if this was because he was dead, or because he had almost died. He was in a white utopia, a glowing sun in the middle of it all, with nothing but feathers around him. But then the feathers unblurred and became the walls of a cavern, and the sun became a large heating apparatus. There was crates and supplies scattered all around the cavern. He moved closer to the heater, feeling himself become regain his inner warmth with every inch he crawled. Feeling made itself welcome in his arms, his face, his body, and his legs. He checked himself, finding no permanent body damage. Whoever had saved him had saved him right after he had lost conciousness, or else he would be in a much worse state. He looked around with a sharper gaze, a sharper nose, a sharper hearing. Complete silence, besides the hum of the heater, which was comforting just like the heat it generated. He found that his weapons and equipment was all gone, though, so apparently whoever had saved him hadn't trusted him completely. As if he would trust his savior.

 

A figure made itself known to the Marine with a grunt. The Space Marine greeted the person with a small nod of the head, and he turned back to the heater, loathe to give up any of the warmth for long. He figured that if the stranger was his enemy he would have killed him already. The figure walked to the heating apparatus and sat down himself, rubbing his arms and legs. "The wind looks like it's dying down now. What's a Space Marine doing here?" The man asked.

 

"Where am I?"

 

"An old weapons cache left over from the Golden Age of Technology. Now answer my question."

 

"Would it not be more polite for the stranger to introduce himself first?"

 

"Indeed. I am an assassin from the Vindicare Temple."

 

"...If you want to lie, you could do a more convincing job of it."

 

"If I was lying. But I'm not."

 

"Vindicare assassins are ghosts, born and trained to be the unknown killer. If you really were a Vindicare assassin, you would not have come near me, and you would have let me die from the cold. Who are you?"

 

"A Vindicare assassin."

 

"Explain yourself. Now."

 

"Assassins such as myself tend to live for many years, thanks to our special training and equipment. We get to see a great deal of terrible things over time. Eventually some of us crack, while others begin to question their training and their missions. Like me. Of course, I'm no traitor. But I've seen enough death and pain to know that to save even one life is to save a world. Every life is sacred. I was genetically enhanced, trained, and equipped to end lives. So I figure that if I just help a few people I might make up for my sins. If I could just help enough people..."

 

"...You might redeem yourself. I understand. Say no more." The Space Marine sighed heavily, and his eyes lowered to the ground.

 

"Most Space Marines would still not believe me and most likely try to kill me for being a traitor. You are different. What do you have that they don't?"

 

"If I knew that, I would have already given it to my whole Chapter for its sake."

 

"...I'm here to assassinate the governer of this planet. An Inquisitor believes that he has fallen to Chaos, and Inquisitors have butchered entire worlds for less."

 

"By telling me that, you've committed high treason to the Emperor. I should kill you for that."

 

"But you won't."

 

"I couldn't. My weapons are gone, and yours are lethal, not to mention your mastery of combat would easily conquer me."

 

"Your weapons are on that crate over there." The Vindicare assassin pointed to one crate in particular.

 

"You're trusting. Too trusting. Someone will kill you someday for that."

 

"I know. But if I'm not trusting, then no one else will ever be of me. Though, of course, nobody could trust an assassin!" The assassin chuckled.

 

"I wish there were more people like you. The galaxy would be a better place."

 

"And I you. By the way, there's a digital map of the planet on that terminal"-the assassin pointed-"and help yourself to any of the things here. I don't own them."

 

"Thank you, assassin." The Marine turned to look at the terminal. "To answer your question, I'm here to learn from the planet while we wait for our aspiring Brothers to finish their trials. But something went wrong. Someone attacked our base camp. I only got away because I wasn't there in the first place. I'm trying to find a place to make contact with my Chapter's fleet in orbit to tell them what happened. Looks like the closest city is..." The Space Marine turned back, only to find the assassin gone. "Hmph. He was gone before I even answered his question. Either he already knew, or he just didn't care. Humanitarian or not, he still has a mission to complete," The Space Marine voiced aloud. He returned to the map. Yslandel... The Space Marine thought.

[TyrantKaiser]

"Meanwhile, the guardsman known as Terriao had found roughly a hundred other survivors. He quickly fell into a leadership role as most of the survivors were children and women, with not a single other guardsman to be found. The few men left were mostly grievously injured. The women and children helped Terriao rebuild the fortress as much as possible and scavenge for supplies.

 

Within a few days, the survivors had cleared a small area completely of debris and bodies. As Terriao was working, one of the women who had been put on sentry duty came to Terriao, with news that a huge group of what looked like guardsmen were approaching. Terriao immediately went to see them. As it turned out, they were indeed troops from the 2nd and 3rd regiments of Gaius VIII. They had been attacked at the capitol city by their own friends. They had barely made it out, and they had gone to Yslandel to link up with the 7th regiment. But, apparently, the 7th was not doing any better.

 

It was unknown what exactly was happening. They tried to figure it out, but the more they thought the more questions were raised. Some men said that it was the Space Marines that had just come to the planet. Others said that the attackers were heretical cults. Some still insisted that it was something much worse than heretics... Something darker, much darker..."

 

===

 

Terriao groaned. "Look! I am the leader of these refugees. I am the only one that they will listen to. They won't pay attention to you!" He said to the commander of the two regiments, Gultin. "Commander, please, let me take care of them!"

 

"Then they shall be shot. If they will not obey my commands then they shall die." The cold commander said.

 

Rage flared up within Terriao. "You would kill these poor people who have no homes, no family, and no hope? How dare you!"

 

The commander struck Terriao with the back of his hand. "How dare you! I am the commander of the Imperial Guard on Gaius VIII, and you and they are mine to command as I see fit! If you disobey me or disrespect me again, I will have you shot!"

 

Terriao's face gnarled in anger. His bloody gaze sent shivers down Gultin's spine. That kind of rage, that kind of hardness, the way his eyes gleamed with some kind of reddish glow, he had never seen before. It was fearsome. He had to look away. The commander had never actually served in combat, and he had only become commander because his father had been the last one. He never learned what war was like, and those around him who had had always hidden the darker side of war from the pampered commander. However, the commander worked up the courage to send back a fierce look himself. But it was a fake, just a sham. It never had and never would match up to a real soldier's glare.

 

"I will be the only one to command these people." Terriao's glare grew yet harder.

 

"Fine. I admire your guts. You have balls of adamantium." The commander turned and left the shoddy rebuilt home where Terriao stayed.

 

Terriao relaxed finally. He paced back and forth within his small room. His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of yells, screams, and incoming artillery. He dove for the entrance to the basement and climbed down just in time before a basilisk shell came crashing down. He grabbed his gear, thankful that he was already wearing his armor, and he climbed out to see total bedlam.

 

+++

 

Next segment. Order up!

[Marshall Strat]

Interesting end of this section. Good job.

 

300th post!

[TyrantKaiser]

"Yslandel was attacked again. The attackers were some of the traitor troops from the capitol. The loyal soldiers were not caught completely off guard, but the attacking force was supported with basilisks and hellhounds. The defenders had no such heavy armor, and the enemy's armor negated the advantage of cover. If one stayed in cover, one would be melted alive or blown to pieces, and if one tried to flee, one would be shot within seconds. This kind of battle had no structure, no order, only complete chaos. The commander of the remaining loyalist forces, instead of staying and inspiring his troops to fight, fled along with his personal guard, which was of considerable size and could have made a huge difference.

 

Terriao had never been in the front lines, and though he had seen war before, he had not seen war like this. His heavy weapons squad had been attacked and destroyed, sure, but he never had to fight himself. Now he faced a truly horrible prospect. His responsibility was to his refugees, and if even one of them died he would have failed them forever. But they were so far away, the commander having placed them in the remains of the mines. Terriao was in the outskirts of the city, and the enemy forces had quickly spearheaded all the way to the fortress already. He had no time, yet he would die if he tried to get there. He had a city and fortress to go through..."

 

===

 

The guardsman shuddered as he saw another man be beheaded by shrapnel. He kept on running, trying to stay as hunched down as possible. The whistling artillery seemed to never stop, and he could smell the stench of burning flesh and blood which filled the air. He came to a corner in the street and he rounded it, sprinting now like an athlete. A scream sounded in his left ear, and he looked to his left to see a man being mutilated by a crazed cultist wielding a giant axe. He took out his laspistol and shot the cultist through the head almost automatically, and then turned back to his task. He rounded another corner, seeing a huge crater in the middle of the city, and immediately recognizing it as the result of an earthshaker round from the vidstories he had seen a long time ago. He leapt into the gaping hole in the planet, as lazers and solid slugs flew at him, rolling down and then losing his balance and tumbling down. He hit the bottom, and scanned everything around him. He could not see any foes. He unslung his lasgun and climbed up out of the hole carefully. A bullet clipped his helmet and he rolled back down to the bottom, faking death.

 

A few heretics slid down to the bottom of the crater to check him out, and they stood over the body. One reached for the man, and a lazer shot through his stomach. As the first traitor fell, Terriao took out a knife and stabbed the next in the foot. The third heretic tried to get his pistol out, but it was caught on something. Terriao lifted his lasgun with one hand and blew the third one away, and then was kicked by the second heretic. He pulled the knife out, hearing the heretic cry out in pain, and then he stood up and swung his knife at the heretic. The heretic grabbed Terriao's arm before he could hit him and punched Terriao. Of course, Terriao was wearing full body armor so the punch hurt the heretic more than it hurt Terriao. Terriao lifted up his knee with a righteous force, and scored a hit right in the balls. The heretic howled in pain and Terriao managed to wrest his arm back, proceeding to slice the oxygen tube on the heretic's armor. The cold air rushed into the helmet of the heretic and the heretic lost his energy almost immediately. The heretic simply fell over, falling to the hypothermia.

 

Terriao panted, wishing he could wipe his forehead. He slipped his knife into the sheath and picked up his lasgun. He climbed back up out of the crater and continued running. He was hardly into the city, and he was running out of time.

 

---

 

Commander Gultin was riding in his Chimera with half of his personal guard. There was another Chimera with the rest. They were heading straight for the other side of the city, hoping that it was not under attack as well. Gultin did not feel guilty for deserting his troops. In fact, he thought it was exactly was commanders were supposed to do if they came under attack. His guard knew better than to question him, but they felt more than guilty enough. However, it was mixed with relief that they won't have to see war for the first time or again, so they kept their mouths shut.

 

When the Chimera in front of them exploded, the Commander's Chimera immediately stopped and the men departed. The Commander did not know what to think, and was as a deer in the headlights. His guard knew more or less what to do and they took him to the top of a building for protection. But all the Commander got was a bird's-eye view of the battle. He looked as his guardsmen were blown to pieces or vaporized by flames, shot in the back while just trying to run away or hacked up when forced into close combat. Buildings exploded, men died, and he knew it was all his fault. If he had stayed and maintained some kind of command, and kept his troops in line, then the battle would not be so horrible. But then his personal guard was attacked. He saw them die, trying to protect him, giving their lives for a deadbeat commander. The building crashed around him, but the area he was on stayed standing. He was on top of a destroyed building with his men all dead or dying. He couldn't take it. There was a battle within him, as well. Guilt mixed with hate at himself which had always been there, but dormant, made him want to die. He prayed to the Emperor for death, to die so that no others would have to die for him. But the Emperor refused.

 

The Commander stood there, with lazers and shrapnel and bullets whizzing and rushing by him, staring out at the battlefield. This was his punishment, that he would not be allowed to die. He would be forced to watch his troops die while he lived. He would always live. That was what he wanted, right? Not to die? To live? That was why he fled. That was why everyone else had to die. All for one. But not one for all.

 

+++

 

A little revelation for the soul. And I'm honored to have someone's 300th post in my topic.

[Marshall Strat]

Nice chapter/section here. You're developing this well.

[TyrantKaiser]

"The battle was rather one-sided. If a hero did not make himself known, and fast, then it would be a complete rout. Terriao thought, and he thought hard. If he stayed, and fought, he could make a difference. But if he did not go and save his charges, he would be worth less than dirt. But he could not abandon his comrades! But he could not abandon his responsibilities either... He was torn. In the end he decided to go and save the refugees, but..."

 

===

 

Terriao sprinted down the street. Craters and debris were everywhere, and he had to manuever around them. He was about halfway into the city, and he still had so far to go. There was a heretical hellhound at the end of the street, in the middle of a four-way intersection. It was laying waste to a platoon of guardsmen. Terriao bolted towards the hellhound. He reasoned that if he didn't help out at least a little, then the battle will be lost and he wouldn't be able to save the refugees anyways. He leapt onto the hellhound, holding a grenade. He knelt down and crawled to the barrel of the flamer. It was spraying Promethium like it was a fire hose, and he couldn't get very close without being burned himself. However, it ran out of fuel and the men inside had to change out the fuel tanks. That's when Terriao shot up to the barrel, pulled the pin on the grenade, and threw it down into the barrel. He was grateful that he was wearing insulated armor and that he wasn't affected by the scalding-hot metal. He jumped off the hellhound and rolled before breaking into a swift run and leaping behind the damaged wall surrounded by sandbags which the platoon was hiding behind.

 

Terriao was relieved to hear an explosion, and he turned around to see flames everywhere that were put out by the cold almost immediately. The platoon assessed the situation and a sergeant walked over to Terriao. "Good job, soldier. What's your name?"

 

"I'm Terriao."

 

"Terriao! I heard about you! You're the only survivor of the 7th regiment, and you stood up to the commander! Cheers, soldier! It's a good thing you came when you did, or we would have all been burned away. We've got about a squad left now, and I want you to come with us. We need more men like you!" The sergeant grinned. A gunshot sounded, and the sergeant's brains were splashed onto the metal streets. The entire squad went into cover immediately, except Terriao, who whirled around immediately and shot the heretic through the arm, then the chest. As the heretic buckled, a whole group charged piled out of a building and began firing at the squad. Terriao still didn't go for cover, and instead he slung his lasgun over his shoulder and drew his sword and laspistol. He charged at the firing heretics, shooting his pistol. He scored a hit in the leg and another in the abdomen of a heretic. With bullets and lazers flying past him, he reached the squad and stabbed one heretic in the chest, before shooting another in the hand and forcing him to drop his warhammer. Terriao kicked the one he stabbed down, pulling out his sword simultaneously and shooting the other heretic in the face to finish him off. The whole group of heretics surrounded him now, and he realised just how doomed he was. He couldn't handle twelve heretics all at once! A volley of gunfire dropped the majority of the group, right when Terriao swung his sword and cut off the arm of one heretic and whipping another heretic with the handle of his pistol. Gunfire disposed of the last of the group, and Terriao uttered a small thanks to the Emperor for it.

 

Terriao rejoined the squad, and they cheered him for his valor. He insisted that he was a fool, but they didn't care. They already had heard of him for surviving and talking back to the commander. They elected him the sergeant of the squad, even though he was sure that that was not how it worked. He sighed, and then explained his problem to the squad. One soldier, Yuin, piped up, "Look, I can speak for every loyal man here that saving the refugees is the priority right now. Leave the fighting to the others, and let's go help them!" Terriao felt reassured, and he nodded.

 

"Alright, men, let's move out. And keep your eyes open!" Terriao added. He and the squad got going, and that's when the magnitude of the recent events hit him. The smell of the burning flesh, the charred skeletons, the sergeant's brains, all of the killing he had done... He almost threw up again. He managed to hold it in, but promised himself a good session in the bathroom later. The squad made good time through the city, moving faster than Terriao realised. He was constantly worrying about the time and whether the refugees were okay. There were a few small skirmishes with traitor guardsmen along the way, but eventually they reached the last street which lead to the fortress. They group broke into a full charge now. Hope surged through Terriao and his men, and they had almost reached the gate when-

 

BOOM

 

+++

 

Not again! Oh well, Terriao's ain't got much more luck. We'll see what happens next time. Yay for cliffhangers!

[Marshall Strat]

Not again! Oh well, Terriao's ain't got much more luck. We'll see what happens next time. Yay for cliffhangers!

 

Jerk. Nice story. Perfect spot for a cliffhanger. :lol: You're doing well on this.

 

-edit- added the quote.

[TyrantKaiser]

"Terriao and his new squad were hit by artillery. The basilisks were dealing more damage than any other enemy unit. Though most of the hellhounds and infantry had been eliminated, the artillery remained unharmed. The only way that the battle could possibly be won was if the artillery was destroyed, and before it could do much more harm. The-hang on," The Sergeant stopped, listening to the battle around them for a moment. He fingered his rifle, analyzing the noise in his head. Then he popped out of the cover long enough to take a good look around.

 

"Blast, they've got reinforcements! Looks like a lot of the choppy-ones. Not good. Wait, the reinforcements have looted tanks! Blast it all!" The Sergeant exclaimed before kneeling back down and placing two fingers on his headset to activate it. "This is the Sergeant of Scout Squad Beta. The enemy's got large numbers of reinforcements and heavy armor now! What will you do, Captain Marcus? We cannot stay in this position for much longer. It's a green tide, sir. Yes sir. Yes sir. No, I cannot do that, sorry sir. Yes. Yes sir. I understand." The sergeant took his fingers off the headset. "Alright you maggots, let's get going! We're to move up to that cliff over there for a better vantage point and so that we aren't caught in the enemy in close combat. Move!" The squad moved quickly and silently, like shadows, through the battlefield. Not a single Ork noticed the squad.

 

The squad reached the edge of the cliff after a short climb. "Alright, sight in! Take shots while I talk. If any enemy is heading towards us, notify me imm-" The Sergeant stopped long enough to take out his sword and decapitate an Ork who had tried to sneak up on him. "-ediately. Do you understand?"

 

"Sir yes sir!" A volley of shots fired in unison. The Sergeant took out a large canteen and took a long, satiating drink. He put the canteen away and he picked up his rifle, laying down in sniping position and sighting in himself. "As I was saying..."

 

+++

 

Muwhahahahaha. I totally did not end the cliffhanger. <_<

[Marshall Strat]

Ya jerk!

 

Nice section though.

[TyrantKaiser]

"There was no hope left for the defenders. All seemed lost. Though the attackers were all but finished, the guardsmen did not know this. They despaired, some killing themselves, others surrenduring to the enemy, others still simply sitting down and doing nothing."

 

===

 

...

...

...

 

The first thing that returned to Terriao was pain. Immense, indescribable pain. His head felt like it was split open, and his abdomen felt as if it was on fire. He screamed, opening his eyes, to find that only one eye was working. A large shard of shrapnel had pierced the right side of his body, right under his ribcage. He could feel the blood flowing down his face and his body. He became aware that his helmet had been destroyed and the cold was eating away at him. Then he noticed that he was laying alone in the middle of a street with gunfire criss-crossing through it. He was a sitting duck, and everyone knew it. He looked around, screaming in pain, seeing no other bodies of his squad in the street. He twisted around again and saw that his squad had taken refuge in the fortress ruins, and his eyes connected with all of the squad members. Each one had the same grim sadness in his eyes as when their sergeant had been killed, and Terriao knew that things looked bad for him. He tried to drag himself to the fortress, but only made it to a puddle. The puddle showed his reflection. A jagged gash ran down the left side of his face, through his eye. Blood seeped out, covering his face in it. He looked like death. He lost his strength, collapsing from the meager slant he had pulled himself into. Feeling fell away, the pain melting away with it. He stopped screaming. Conciousness faded away as quickly as it had come.

 

...

 

---

 

Hint had to look away. His new sergeant, Terriao, was dead. He was the second-in-command of the squad, so he was the leader now. He ordered the squad to hunker down. He had no clue what to do. Terriao had an air of authority, of strength of figure, about him. Without him, he felt lost. And the squad was running out of time. There was no time left. It was all gone. It was over. Done. Ended. Fin.

 

He decided that if he was gonna go down, he was gonna go down fighting. He charged out of the door to the fortress, shooting his lasgun wildly. Hint stumbled, slipping on a piece of wet concrete. He fell, landing on his chest. A bullet streaked past his head. A grenade bounced next to him. He knew it was over, in that very instant. He faced death with the toughest resolution he could make. Time seemed to stop. Nothing was happening. He simply stared at the grenade. It seemed to explode already, but it was just in his head. He wondered if time would ever start again. That's when he noticed a massive shadow over him. He looked up to see a dark figure in the air, the sun making him look black. He was on the wall of the fortress, looking out at the situation. Suddenly he looked down, and he leapt. The giant was fell and landed on his feet, grabbing the grenade and Terriao at the same time. He threw the grenade back at the heretics, tossed Terriao into the fortress, and turned back to the attackers with a hard look on his face.

 

+++

 

Short section, but believe me, it's all gonna go down in the next one. IT'S GOIN' DOWN!! :P

[13skullz]

I! WANT! MORE!

[TyrantKaiser]

"And then Hint charged outside. He charged a hero's charge, as valiant as any Space Marine. Indeed, it seemed that valor is more human than fear. Hint was a hero, but even he could not stand up against all of the heretics. But there was another hero, one even greater than he. This hero was there simply because he was needed, just like every one of his brothers. He was a warrior, a true warrior, and he was..."

 

===

 

A Space Marine. An Angel of Death. The harbinger of the end for all the enemies of Mankind. Oh yes, Hint stood up faster than he knew he could and saluted the glorious warrior. The warrior did not even look back. All that he said was, "This is a battlefield," before he took a huge looking gun from the tons of equipment covering him. Hint recognized the gun as a heavy bolter, with a drum magazine. The Space Marine opened up fire on the enemy, and the extremely-high caliber explosive rounds obliterated the heretical troops with the terrible sound of the bolter instilling fear into the deepest parts of the enemy's hearts. Even though the troops seemed to keep coming in droves, a single Space Marine was keeping them from so much as aiming. The best they could do was blind-fire, with a stray bullet or lazer glancing the Space Marine's carapace armor and doing absolutely nothing.

 

Hint recovered himself, running back inside, and he saw the squad medic, Uehin, taking care of Terriao. The rest of the squad was shooting out of the firing holes in the side of the building. He himself realized his rifle was back out in the street, and he frantically searched for a weapon. The Space Marine glanced back and saw Hint, before holding his heavy bolter with one hand with a slight struggle and taking a gun from his belt and throwing it to Hint. It was a Space Marine sniper rifle, and there was a sack of rounds tied to the barrel. He took out a round and loaded the rifle carefully and with great awe in his eyes, to be holding and wielding a holy weapon of the Angels of Death. He stood up, went to a firing hole, and took aim. He knew the gun was far too large for him but because he could lean it on the sill of the window it felt like some kind of heavy weapon. So he looked through the scope and found a target. He fired, deleting the cultist's head entirely. The power at his fingertips felt so alien yet so good. He reloaded and fired again, taking an arm off this time. He enjoyed it. He reloaded, firing. He didn't miss once. He reloaded. Fired. Reloaded. Fired. Reloaded. Fired.

 

---

 

The Space Marine ran out of ammo for his heavy bolter and he threw it inside the fortress while ripping off a double-layered bandolier of ammo and tossing it inside as well. He told the few troops who were not fighting to reload it, then took out his two bolters. He set one on the ground and ripped off an ammo belt around his shoulder and set it beside the bolter. He emptied one bolter unto the enemy and dropped it, saying, "Reload. Then pass it to me." He emptied the next bolter and found his other bolter being held up to him, ready to fire. He took it and put the other in its place and continued. It went on like this for a while. His aim was perfect, a side effect of the intense and constant training of a Space Marine. Not a single shot went to bad use. The shot either destroyed cover or killed a heretic, sometimes both. A glance back to the humans told him that they were struggling to reload the heavy bolter, as it was not designed to be reloaded so quickly and by ordinary humans. He looked back at the battle to see something new.

 

Four hellhounds were approaching him rapidly. They were narrowly avoiding all of the debris and pits, but they were not slowing down. They wanted him dead, and fast. Unluckily for them, he came prepared. He dropped his bolter and reached for something under his backpack. He brought up two melta bombs. He started forward, launching the bombs with perfect form and grace. The bombs came down upon two of the hellhounds, exploding one and immobilizing the other. He drew out a melta gun, and he shot the two remaining hellhounds before they could drop their deadly promethium payload on him. He shot the barrel of the flamer on one, melting the barrel down enough that it sealed shut. It exploded from the same flames it had tried to shoot. He shot the other right in the location of the promethium tanks. It exploded instantly.

 

He dropped the melta gun and looked down to find that he had no more bolter ammo left. The heavy bolter was still not reloaded, and the enemy troops were closing in. The Space Marine drew another gun out, this one a plasma rifle. It looked puny in his hands, it being designed for ordinary humans and being an odd kind of carbine. He managed to work it as well as his bolters, though, and he sent devastating plasma to the body of every heretic that came. Eventually the sheer heat of the plasma carbine forced him to drop it lest his hands melt away, and he took grenades from his chest and threw them with perfect precision into groups of heretics.

 

When the smoke cleared, not a single heretic remained alive. He had single-handedly destroyed the last of the hellhounds and heretics. And thanks to those companies of men he had rescued earlier, the artillery was gone now, too. The battle was won. The left over cultists were swept up by the guardsmen, and they were executed on the spot. The Space Marine looked back at the heavy bolter and saw that the men weren't even trying to load it anymore. He saw that Terriao was recovering, the paleness already gone from his cheeks. They were in an enclosed building, and the medic had wrapped Terriao's head and face up with bandages. The Space Marine pulled off his mask and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He wrung out his mask, then put it back on. The guardsmen were so exhausted they couldn't even issue a cheer for the Space Marine and their hero. But he got the message. He said nothing, taking the heavy bolter and reloading it himself with the skill of constant practice. He took his sniper rifle back from Hint, who was shaking with adrenaline, and he put it away. He took his melta gun, putting it away as well, before taking magazines from his other belt and reloading his bolters. He left the heavy bolter there along with the plasma gun, calling them "dead weight".

 

---

 

Terriao slipped into conciousness long enough to take a good look at the Space Marine who had saved him. He looked every bit the "Angel of Death" he was supposed to be. Covered in equipment, ammo, and weapons, with his armor dirtied and marred, and his face hard and grim, yet free of any imperfections, possessing a kind of dark beauty. He was a true warrior of the Imperium.

 

+++

 

It went down. Next segment is up. NOTE: I added a bit to the last segment.

[Marshall Strat]

Nice. I have one minor question for you, though... Hint is a Lt? ...and he looked to the sergeant for leadership? Am I missing something?

[TyrantKaiser]

Umm... Isn't that how it always works? (cough)

 

EDIT: I changed it anyways. I don't like confusion in my stories.

[TyrantKaiser]

"The battle was won, and the remnants of the guardsmen regrouped. They all coverged on the fortress. Meanwhile, Terriao slowly recovered his strength thanks to the quick attention of the medic. Terriao immediately started for the mines, but his squad made him stay. The Space Marine volunteered to go check it out and Terriao vigorously thanked him for the umpteenth time. The Space Marine reached the entrance to the mines, and..."

 

===

 

He could smell the reeking stench of death. He knew something horrible had occured here. The mines were warm, thanks to being deep underground and very carefully heated. He stepped in, activating the headlamp on his headset. He found numberless piles of the dead, but they were too rotted to be just recent. He made his way deeper in past the bodies, and found another section. But this time, the bodies were not rotted at all. They must have been killed in the battle, before Terriao could reach them.

 

The Space Marine knew and understood tragedy when he saw it. He almost felt the pain of the poor man. But his psycho-conditioning eliminated any traces of it. The Space Marine counted the bodies, coming to a count of 97. But there was supposed to 98 survivors. He looked around himself, searching for any signs of life. Eventually his finely-tuned ears caught a noise, a very soft sobbing noise, that was almost completely muffled by something. The Space Marine hurredly searched the bodies, lifting up and tossing them into empty corners, until after lifting one body he found a baby, only about 2 years old. Something within the Space Marine twitched, as if struggling to awaken from a deep coma. The Space Marine picked up the crying child and looked at it. He checked, and found it was a girl. He felt an unexplainable urge to comfort the crying child, and he quickly banished it away. Such things were the bane of warriors. And his training and experience should have erased any and all feelings such as it.

 

The Space Marine remembered the cold of the surface, even in the fortress, and he gathered as many clean cloths from the clothing of the dead refugees as he could and covered up the baby in a bundle. He pressed the baby against his mighty chest, carefully cradling it in his arms so as not to harm it. He knew that no Space Marine would ever do such a thing, but he did not care. Something was trying to break free inside him and he had to stop it, even if it meant getting rid of this child as quickly as possible. He ran out of the mines with the child, taking it to the squad of men.

 

---

 

Terriao knew something was wrong by the look on the Space Marine's face. It was even emptier than it normally was, and his heart sank when he saw nobody was following him. He just stared at the ground, devoid of emotion. He had failed, he had nothing again. He was nothing. Terriao looked back at the Marine and saw some kind of bundle hidden under his massive arms. The Space Marine held it out to Terriao and Terriao took it. It was a child, just a baby. It was the only thing to survive. Terriao was touched in the bottom of his heart by his strongest of human instincts. "It's a girl," Is all the Space Marine bothered to say.

 

Terriao decided to have something again. To be something. He looked into the beautiful dark blue eyes of the child and resolved to never fail his charge again. He would not let heretics have this child, for they had already taken his family, and brothers-in-arms. He would become as great as a Space Marine if need be. He would not falter, not for the Emperor himself.

 

+++

 

Wham. New segment up.

[Marshall Strat]

Yup, and NO cliffhanger. Either you're slipping, or you're not as evil as I thought.

 

Nicely written.

[TyrantKaiser]

"While the loyalist forces recovered in Yslandel, another Space Marine was in the hands of the enemy..."

 

===

 

Laurien gasped in gulps of air as his head was pulled from the ice-cold water. "Have you seen the weakness of your False Emperor, tool?" The deep, scratchy voice boomed. Laurien shook his head, breathing as quickly as he could. He was dunked in the freezing water again, and he struggled to take it. The water was colder than ice, yet it remained liquid and his face did not get frost-bite. It was the effect of a powerful witchery cast upon the pot which contained the water. The cold was worse than outside in the wilderness, as it was coupled with water. He was kept in the water long enough to make even his four lungs scream in pain, and just when he thought it was over he was whisked back into the world of the living. He would always answer the same question with a shake of the head, and he would always try to get that extra gulp of air in his lungs before being forced into the water again.

 

When this torture finally ended, the Chaos Space Marine who was much more than a match for him dragged his helpless body into another chamber. There the torture master beat Laurien relentlessly, knocking the air out of him and covering the Marine in terrible bruises and cuts. When Laurien again refused to break, the torturer took a chain with razors all over it and began to whip Laurien with it. After a couple hours of this, the loyal marine refused the question again and was taken to yet another chamber. In this one a Chaos Sorceror cast many foul spells that made Laurien believe he was being ripped in two, chewed up, decapitated, eaten by maggots, burned alive, and castrated at the same time for an hour. They wanted a scream out of Laurien but nothing came. He grimaced, shuddered, shook, resisted, and grit his teeth, but nothing came out. He would not fall. He was a testament to the glory and might that is the Emperor and these traitors would learn that he was not to be controlled by scum.

 

After it all being repeated again three times, Laurien was thrown aside in his containment cell which consisted of thick ceramite walls and titanium bars. Though he could break through the bars easily when at full strength, he was injected daily with a small amount of venom from a tarantuloid which dulled his wits and sapped him of his strength, as well as the constant torture simply ruining his body and ability to resist. Laurien just laid there, ignoring the jeers and threats and insults thrown at him constantly by the human guards outside his bars and he only moved to eat the pathetic scraps he was given for food. Always there were whispers of power and vengeance in his ears seemingly from the walls and ground itself, but he recognised these for the tricks that they were and simply tuned them out. The rest of the Marines may have turned thinking that they would trick the forces of Chaos and double-cross them when they least expected it but Laurien knew that this was the essence of Chaos and such thoughts only were the first steps down the unholy path.

 

Luckily for Laurien, the tarantuloid venom was powerful but it had one other effect that no one had been in contact with it long enough to find out. The human body quickly developed a resistence to the venom, so fast so that for a Space Marine it would take only two weeks before the effects of the venom would begin to fade. It had been three weeks and the effects were almost completely gone. Laurien had noticed this almost immediately when it began and he simply played the fool and pretended that he was still being affected by the venom. A plan was forming in his head...

 

+++

 

Whoa! Blast from the past. This story is far from over. And I'm not slipping. In case you haven't noticed, that story arc is over. A new one has begun.

[TyrantKaiser]

"Little had Laurien known, the thick blizzard had not been natural. It was the result of a sorceror using his dark powers to control the weather, and after Laurien had lowered his defenses the pawns of the sorceror had struck and captured Laurien. This tactic had been used to capture every one of the Apprentices down there. Through intense torture and mind games the sorceror had converted every marine to his cause. Except Laurien and the lone Space Marine. But Laurien had no intentions of letting himself fall to Chaos, as he inevitably would if he should stay there too long. So he planned an escape."

 

===

 

Laurien decided to break out immediately and not risk any event that could impede him. So he stood up, feigning difficulty, and stumbled to the iron bars which held him. The enemy had made one fatal mistake, and that was that they had only forged the lock of adamantium. He made sure that the guards were not paying attention and he spat numerous times at the tops of the bars, where they connected to the ceiling. As the acid quickly melted through the top parts, Laurien made sure to stumbled around some more, mumble a bit about the Emperor, and then fall forwards so that his lips were level with the bottoms of the bars. When the guards were certain he had just passed out, Laurien launched his acidic lugies at the bottoms of the bars. When they had melted through, Laurien stood up with difficulty again, and he woozily walked over to the left side of the bars, waiting for the guards to lose interest and then spit through the first side of the crossbars. When he was done with that, he dropped the charade. He stood up fully, and said to the guards, "You'd better run."

 

Of course, the guards thought he was just trying to intimidate them. Well, he wasn't, he was getting the most pleasure he could out of the situation. "You don't believe me? Comon, I'm a Space Marine, and you don't consider me a threat?" The guards laughed at him, though one had the hair on the back of his neck rise up. This particular heretic had always had good instincts, and they were sounding the alarms louder than ever. A bead of sweat worked its way down the side of his face, until it reached his chin. It slowly began to separate from his chin, when Laurien made his move. With a running start and a good shoulder ram, he brushed the iron bars aside like it was nothing, bending it easily and quickly enough to reach the first two guards and, in the same charging motion, brought back both of his arms and smashed his fists into their faces before launching his punches and splattering their skulls against the solid adamantium walls. The sweatdrop had begun to fall. Laurien grabbed the lasgun out of one of the unlucky guards' hands and shot through the head of another guard, before throwing the gun into the next in the chest with enough force to actually embed the stock of the gun in the guard's stomach, killing him instantly. The guard who was sweating had begun to turn around and sprint for his life. The other guard was ready to fire, with Laurien in his sights and his finger starting the pull. Laurien whirled in a flash, lunging towards the guard with frightening speed and ferocity. He bridged a gap of three yards in an instant, pushing away the guard's gun and bringing his fist up in a mighty uppercut which forced the guard's head upwards so hard his neck broke. The sweatdrop was halfway to the ground. Laurien grabbed the dead guard by the head, using the body as a hammer to smash the last guard, who had not even taken one step, into the wall with a fatal force. The sweatdrop landed on the ground with a silent splash.

 

Laurien ran as fast as he could through the jail compound, smashing through the metal doors with ease. He did not want to encounter a Chaos Space Marine, especially if said marine had power armor and weapons. He reached a split hallway with two paths and randomly chose the left. As he rounded the corner he crashed into a power-armored individual, but the figure did not even budge, while Laurien felt like he had been hit by a train. Which he basically had. The figure looked at Laurien, and it drew a nasty chainsword on Laurien. It swung back, preparing to strike, when he was pounded by a massive spell sent by another figure. "Now, now, Trentian, we can't have you killing a perfectly good sacrifice, can we? Obviously we cannot break the fool, and if we try to he'll just end up killing more men. So, we shall sacrifice him posthaste and get rid of him while simultaneously gaining favor with the gods," purred the sinister voice. Laurien turned slowly towards the sorceror, who was helmetless and quite handsome. Laurien could feel his wits being drained away by some spell, and he charged recklessly at the sorceror. The sorceror raised his staff, and Laurien was raised into the air, unable to move despite still running in the air.

 

"You see? We should kill him while we have the chance. Otherwise, I promise you, he WILL come back to bite us in the ass," Trentian growled. He stood back up and sheathed his sword.

 

"Nonsense, he can't do anything while he's under my spell, and once we've given him a double dose of the tarantuloid venom, he won't even be awake until the sacrifice. So, go do that. I must continue my 'studies' on necromancy. Get to it."

 

"Bastard," Trentian growled under his breath. Laurien collapsed onto the ground, and Trentian grabbed him and pulled him onto his feet roughly. "Look here, scum. I don't like you. If you so much as think about thinking of escaping, I will gut you faster than a sweatdrop can hit the ground!" The last few words made Laurien feel like laughing, but he kept it in. Though his wits were dulled for the moment, he could still understand why that was funny. Laurien decided to play it close to the vest, though, and guessed that this 'Trentian' was quite serious. Laurien took pride in the success of the first part of his plan.

 

+++

 

*gasp* It was all part of his plan! How ingenious! Next segment up.

[flameseeker574]

very very good work you have here,however, what happens to the assassin?