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The Fifth


Spareknikov

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I wrote this one on a whim, so if there are any mistakes or issues with Grammar, my bad. :) Constructive criticism is more than welcome!

 

The Fifth Surrounded, Malak held his Daemon Weapon in front of him, anticipating the first attack.

 

Slowly, he turned, making and breaking eye contact with the four Chaos marines around him. A Sorceror, a Berzerker, a Noise Marine, a Plague Marine.

 

The Sorceror wore deep blue power armour, mystic and arcane runes painful to the untrained eye swam across his armour. His helm was an untarnished gold, reflecting dully the glow of the red sun high above them all, and was quite at odds with the glowing green that was his visor slit. The berzerker was heaving heavily, that much was obvious to Malak from his mere body language and the constant whirring noise of the berzerkers chain axe growled heavily as the berzerker held it's handle tighter than any man could ever have done. A remarkable testament to the craftwork of millenia past.

 

The plague marine, like all his kind before him, was bloated, and were it not for the augmentations he had gone through, Malak would be dead from the decaying air that surrounded the noise marine. Flies had gathered around it like a fresh carcass, filling it's visors and joints, painting the him as black as a filthy wound.

 

The long, disturbing bass note that filled the air covered up the noise of the flies collective hum, and Malak was positive this was the consequence of the noise marines presence. Unrelentingly painful was the contrast of the noise marine's armour, painted in stark bright colours that would make normal men throw up from the sheer confusion and disgust of their combinations. But Malak was no mere human, once maybe, from what he could remember of a millenia and an age past he may have been. But his time lay in the present, destroying the champions of the Chaos Gods as his oath dictated, and amongst the destruction of Chaos, he would turn to the Imperium and tear the remaining chunks of matter from the maggot ridden Emperors corpse on his throne at the decaying Terra.

 

His weapon growled, and surely, as it has done for millenia, it warned him of the first attack, and the berzerker flashed red in front of him as the chain axe was brought in from his side. He deflected it, flicking the axe to the side with a well timed parry. Malak could see the eyes of the berzerker through the eye slits, red and bloodshot, dilated from the rage he provoked himself to even before this duel as Malak blocked his first attack.

 

At that exact time the sorcerer sent a blue light at him, just as the Plague Marine came from the side. He caught sight of the Noise Marine as he sent the light flying towards him, thanks to Malaks lightning reflexes. He leapt above the low blade of the Noise marine and slashed vertically at the Berzerker, whose chain axe swung and was deflected from Malaks chest plate. Now the Noise Marine had joined in, swinging his blade up high to catch him by his head.

 

It missed, and Malak parried the next sorcerous blast away, and sent a thrust at the berzerker, driving his Daemonic blade upwards. He felt the berzerker go limp, and let his chain axe fall into his hand with vague difficulty. The sorceror had disappeared with a blur, coming beside him, and he swung the chain axe into his chest.

 

An illusion. It disappeared as if it were mist, coloured by the ground and the sky above.

 

The blow came in from the noise marine, whose blade had now lodged itself into Malaks abdomen. Screaming, Malak wrenched his Daemonic blade from the berzerkers limp corpse, decapitating the Noise marine by the neck. Blood spurted from the stump as the blade axe flew from his grip only to be caught in the chest of the sorceror, now a solid object whose scream pierced his ears. He at last uncovered the Combi-Melta beneath his cloak and evaporated the Plague Marine, the remaining limbs of his right side fell to the Earth with a dull thump.

 

Malak threw down the weapon as the Sorceror came at him, who was infuriated by the insult of the weapon he had wisped away from the gouge in his chest. Malak took the daemon weapon and charged the Sorceror, who had swung his staff to connect with Malaks legs. He jumped and planted his weapon in the deep gash that was created by the chain axe. The Sorceror fell, and lost his staff to gravities indiscrimination. Malak snatched it away and thrust it up, impaling the staff into the spine of the sorceror. All four of the gods champions had died. All four of his enemies lay dead at his feet.

 

At last, Malak picked up his blade, and brushed away vague bits of dirt and filthy chaos blood from his black and white power armour.

 

"Is this blood enough, Chaosbane?" muttered Malak to the possessed blade.

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