What do you thnk of this?

[CaptMac]

Ahcer felt his ran his tongue over his teeth, the metallic taste of blood re-enforcing the wailing sirens message that this drop was not going well. In his mind recited the litany of calming, forcing down animal panic while runes on his helmet's display flashed in glowing red hues. The rolling altitude display cascaded down in front of his eyes and he felt the spluttering impact thrusters ineffectively trying to slow the hulking drop-pods decent.

 

A burst of static rang in his vox-caster as Ahcer heard the growling Sargent's warning “3000 meters till impact...be ready”. As a Blood Claw this wasn't his first drop, but the sound of rounds ricochetting on the pod's armoured hull was enough to enforce the term “hot drop” being banded around by the Grey Hunters back on The Spirit of Russ as they prepared to be jettisoned from the huge Space Cruiser.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

The calming litany he had learned during his training began to swim around behind his eyes, just beyond reach, words just beyond forming. Suddenly the pod lurched, and Ahcer felt his body being pushed down by an incredible invisible force. A piercing howl echoed in his ears and felt his controlled fear give way to controlled anger. The howling was mirrored by two more brothers, then four and before Ahcer realised the chorus he had started drowned out the chaos outside.

 

“...calm down pups, impact in five...”

 

The howls pealed away.

 

“...four, three...”

 

His gauntleted fingers tightened on the handle of his bolt pistol as the walls of the pod detonated and disappeared, into the scorched urban waste that now surrounded him. The final seconds passed and the gravity of this alien world tested his Ossmodula enhanced skeleton with forces that would have shattered normal humans bones.

 

As his body was thrown from the drop pods smoking carcass he rolled behind the blackened remains of a crumbling wall. In seconds he had removed his helmet and attached it to his hip. The acrid stench of Chaos assailed his senses, with a glance he accounted for his five brothers positions and calmly snapped off a shot at an enemy trying to bring his weapon to bear. The long barreled rifle clattered from the man's hands as his headless corpse spoutted a plume of crimson into the air before folding onto the earth.

 

Around him the burning buildings belched plumes of smoke and las rounds hiss and thudded at his meagre cover with increasing persistence. Muffled orders barked from the cluster of foundry buildings two hundred meters ahead but, despite his enhanced hearing, Ahcer couldn't understand the foul tongue. The sound of the enemy crunching the gravel beneath their boots as they ran to positions echoed down the ruined street as the frustrated voice of Sgt Inces cut across the din “Hold!”. Acher continued the silent count in his head, as he had since the poker hot hull of the drop pod had slammed into the earth. As the count reached thirty the enemy position began to shatter as heavy bolter rounds tore great rents in the plascreat walls, the Long Fangs supporting fire caused clouds of dust and debris to spit from the walls punctuated with small clouds of red mist.

 

Acher sensed Sgt Inces on his left lurch to his feet and begin the short sweeping run around to flank the enemy's position. The servos in his ancient power armour hissed a pneumatic whirl with every great stride, pausing briefly as he leapt to clear a small chasm opened up buy the orbital bombardment shortly after The Spirit of Russ entered the system. He knew that no enemy, however corrupted his mind, would be foolish enough to break cover and try and fire while the Long Fangs continued to rain down fire but he tried to keep to cover where he could, overconfidence had killed many recruits during his training on Fenris.

A short distance ahead he saw Brother Kurthe hunker down behind the rusted remains of cargo tram, his flushed face showed that he struggled with the inner wolf and the trickle of blood from where his enlarged canines punctured his lips showed that the wolf was winning. Acher slid behind some splintered crates showing the imperial eagle stamp as the vox-caster in his ear hissed back to life.

“Brother Inces, ready your Claws we're switching fire in five”.

Acher pictured the weathered leathery hands of the Long Fangs turning their huge weapons onto their next target as he thumbed the runes on his chainsword's hilt and felt the atmanium teeth purr into life.

Five.

Kurthe, resigned to his animal instincts, sprang from cover and race across the dusty cargo yard head on toward the massive sliding metal doors of their objective. Split seconds later the rest of his pack broke from cover and followed with ferocious speed leaping the fallen crates and drums that littered the yard. The wolf within Ahcer howled out for control, the repulsive chaos symbols daubed crudely on the buildings around him hurting his eyes and adding to the feral rage. He willed it down as he glanced at Sgt Inces and Brother Mack widening their path.

Kurthe dragged at the studded metal handle, his massive boots fighting for purchase as an echoing moan of protest wailed from the doors rusting mechanism. As it slowly inched open a torrent of las-rounds spat from the widening gap forcing Acher and Kurhte to dive to the side. The intensity of fire increased and the noise of intermittent bolter fire added to the din echoing around inside the hall. Acher looked at the two Space Wolves crouched next to him and saw his frustration mirrored in their eyes. Beyond those door were the Emperor's enemies and, despite the urge to tear into them they all knew that to enter this way was suicide.

Then Brother Turst's mouth split into a grin, his freckled cheeks giving it an almost boyish quality. “I think the Sgt's found another door” he said as he pointed behind Acher and Kurthe. They turned to see Sgt Ince and Brother Vilgar some forty meters away with their backs pressed to the wall, together their hands on their ears. As Kurthe began to speak Acher noticed the blinking light on the floor a few meters from the pair “What door are you...”. The explosion rang in their ears like the tolling go a giant temple bell.

The debris and dust swept the yard like a ghostly grey mist, swirling and falling in waves. The tinnitus whine faded from Acher's ears replaced by the distinct sound of Fenrisian war cries and bolt pistols. Acher went to follow his brothers as they rushed to the breach, he hesitated. Grabbing one of the mighty doors, he dragged it with him straining in the sliding cover. Judging the doors momentum he released the handle, plucked a grenade from his belt and with a turning leap pitched it deep into the hall. A moment passed before he was rewarded with a booming explosion and screams of hieratic pain. He ran toward Sgt Ince's breach.

Quickly tracing the scent of his brothers he rushed down a wide corridor, the dismembered corpses of the enemy slumped in the corners framed thick pools of their own congealing blood. Rounding the corner he saw his brothers ploughing into scores of sick looking men, their chainswords carving sweeping archs of death in the pressing mass. Before he had reached the heels of Brother Turst the enemies spirit broke and the terror of facing the mighty Adeptus Astartes starved their resolve. Panicking the enemy rushed in all directions as bolt pistol rounds lifted briefly from their feet and left them motionless on the floor. Brother Kurthe pursued them into the distance until he disappeared round a junction ahead.

All around him his brothers continued to slay the foundry workers who had turned from the Emperor in favour of the empty promises of Chaos. He paused. Acher felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. Absent mindedly slew the cornered hieratic rushing toward him and realised that the smell of Ozone now floated lazily down the corridor. Not ozone something...worse, sicker. The cold blue lumiglobes along the corridor began to pulse with energy, brighter and brighter until they began bursting with a belch of orange flame. The faces of the enemy twisted into foul grins even as they died and what had been a cacophony of death faded till only the moans of the dying could be heard.

 

An impossible sound of tearing metal filled the corridor and an ominous red mist floated lazily round the corner. Suddenly Kurthes body cannoned into view it's motion only halted by the wall it impacted. It flopped almost comically onto its front, the effect highlighted by the deep wailing laughter that followed it. A burst of living flame leapt into view and engulfed what was once Brother Kurthe as the boom of heavily shodden feet began.

Simultaneously the remaining young Blood Claws starred at their veteran Sargent, rage and pain filling their eyes and only the memory of harsh training stopping them from sprinting to the unseen assailant. “Back!” he barked knowing that facing a heavy flamer in this confined corridor was suicide. Despite the protests of their inner wolves they quickly followed his sprinting form.

As they emerged from the building another great gout of flame balled into the yard, the smell of blistering Ceramite signalling another seconds delay would have been their undoing. They fanned out rolling and diving into cover, weapons trained on the hole they made earlier.

Then, striding from the shadowy depths the hulking form of the enemy appeared. It shrugged off the bolt pistol rounds that tapped harmlessly around it and, with it's eyes closed, rolled it's neck. Couched behind a fallen block of plasticrete Ahcer stared at the monstrous figure standing easily a full head taller than any marine he had ever seen. It was encased in what had once been ancient terminator heavy suit but now seemed melded with a light blue muscle and sinew that covered full portions of the armour. Where the plate could be seen a constant twisting image of screaming faces showed and when it finally opened it's eyes they were sickeningly human. Drips of flaming promethium dripped carelessly from the heavy flamer melded to it's arm as it surveyed it's surroundings.

“Come out and know that your false emperor has forsaken you or cower where you are, it matters not to Saehzin you will still die here.” The words twisted and writhed their way into Achers head without being spoken and with horrible clarity he realised that the abomination they faced was a Chaos Obliterator.

[Grey Mage]

I like it. Could use some editing, but I really enjoyed that alot. Doing a next installment maybe?

[CaptMac]

Yeah I'm going to start working on the second part now. I struggled to remember what Chainsword Teeth are made of...any idea?

[Grey Mage]

I always thought it was adamantine, and the armor is made of adamantite and ceramite. *shrugs*

[WG Vrox]

Reads very well Capt,

 

I bet like me you have these little stories running in your head when you imagine your wolves going into combat. Fun to be able to put them on virtual paper.

 

Might want to re-read that first sentance. : )

 

WG Vrox

[Venter_Of_Russ]

With regard to chain sword teeth, I haven't the slightest clue. All I know is frost blade teeth are pulled from the kraken, which is actually a species of Tyranid native to Fenris.