The Battle for the Deep Space Orbital

[Valdr Fell-fist]

Well, i found it. Those of you have read my other thread:http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/index.php?showtopic=164308 will see that i mentioned i have wrote another story, although this was done quite a while ago, and petered off after the first page or so. I wasn't anywhere near as happy with it as i am about my other story, but i thought i would post it up here anyway. Note, a few things have changed since i wrote the story, the most significant being Attalus' origins. Whilst i'm still fairly fond of that idea, i think it's a little unreasonable. But, i'd still be willing to hear comments on that subject, and maybe even revive it.

So, here it is. Bear with me a moment, as like i said, it's not the best story.

The Battle for Deep Space Orbital DS198.

 

“For the Emperor!” Attalus roared, as he led the charge. His brothers, veterans of the Vengeful Brotherhood, followed him. Despite being clad in mighty Terminator armour, Attalus ran as fast as his lighter brothers, the armour barely encumbering him at all. With him were thirty of the Chapter’s most accomplished assault marines, chainblades roaring, and bolt pistols barking a death cry.

Before him, the Traitor Legionnaires rallied. They poured forwards to meet the marines, their blasphemous battle-cries filling the corridor. Led by a giant, even bigger than Attalus himself. He was a Daemon Prince, of the Black Legion.

Ten thousand years ago, fully half of the Emperor’s Legions, led by the Warmaster Horus Lupercal, betrayed the Lord of Mankind. They attacked their once-brothers, slaughtering billions of innocents before attacking Terra itself. Though Horus was slain by the Emperor, his mortal body was shattered. He ascended the Golden Throne, and had not moved for the last hundred centuries, but still he ruled mankind. The traitor legions had fled from the battle for Terra, and retreated to the Eye of Terror. Half in the material universe, half in the Warp, the Eye obeyed no rules. Not physics, not time. The same legionaries who betrayed the Emperor all those millennia ago still strode the galaxy, leaking out of the Eye to raid worlds. The power of a Space Marine, combined with ten thousand years of combat experience and daemonic patronage made them truly fearsome warriors.

This did not worry Attalus. Like the traitors, he was ten thousand years old. He had once walked the galaxy, as one of Horus’ foremost captains. Unlike the traitors, he had stood against Horus when he betrayed the Emperor. His subordinates had been slain, and he had been doomed to spend eternity sealed in a time vault, wounded severely by Horus himself. Then came the day when the Vengeful Brotherhood had stumbled across the vault. Understandably disinclined to trust him, they had nonetheless inducted him into their Chapter, after long and arduous purity tests by the chapter’s staff of Chaplains, Apothecaries and psychic Librarians. For a thousand years he had fought with the Chapter, before ascending to the rank of First Commander, subordinate only to the High Commander, Helikaon.

His mighty hammer pulped a traitor marine with a single blow, the armour splitting as though a mountain had fallen on it. He waded into the traitor marines, warding off blows with his storm shield, and slaying all those in arms reach with little effort. Those few attacks that made it past his shield slid harmlessly from his armour.

Behind him, his brothers fought well, but none of them could match his skill, nor his strength. Occasionally, one of them would fall, spitted on a blade, or falling prey to massed bolter fire. However, with Attalus at the edge of their fighting wedge, they pushed the traitors slowly back, though it was costly. Fully half of their number fell before they managed to slay all but the Daemon Prince.

It stood twelve feet high, with wings that extended even further, the tips scratching the ceiling of the Orbital. One hand was carrying a whip that writhed with a life of it’s own, ensnaring those who came to close, the other clutching an axe, as tall as one of the Brotherhood, that glowed with baleful energies.

Attalus, his black armour slick with the blood of traitors, walked forwards to challenge the Daemon, when it spoke.

“So, brother. It is good to see you once more. Too long did you lie dormant in that vault. The Black Legion need worthy foes, and you are one. We offer you the chance to join us once more, however. As much as we need foes, we need warriors of great worth. You strode the galaxy alongside us, and we offer you that again.” The voice crackled like flame, and whenever it’s massive maw opened, the smell of blood intensified.

“I am no brother to deamonkin. I will slay you, and any like you. You recanted your oaths to the Emperor, and nothing will stop me from acting to avenge those of the Legions that you slaughtered. There is no more to say. Prepare to die.” Attalus charged once more, an oath to the Emperor on his lips.

The daemon brought it’s axe down, intending to split Attalus from head to groin, but it’s fall was stopped by Attalus’ shield, who had expected such a simple move. He swung his thunder hammer, the head in the shape of an eagle. The tip penetrated the daemon’s chest, ichor spilling from the wound for less than a second before it sealed. The daemon laughed, and it’s whip twirled round Attalus leg, tripping him, and sending him to the ground. He rolled away, just in time as the daemon’s axe descended once more, becoming stuck in the steel floor.

Climbing to his feet, he swung his hammer once more, this time connecting with the daemons’ face. Bones cracked, and leathery skin split, and a scream of rage and pain echoed down the otherwise silent corridor.

Capitalising on the Daemon’s moment of weakness, Attalus grabbed hold of one of the monstrosity’s horns, and pulled it down to meet his knee. Once more, bones shattered, blood and ichor flooding from the daemon’s ruined face. For a third time, he hefted his hammer. It struck at the base of its neck, and the daemon fell to the floor, lifeless but still twitching.

[Skirax]

I like it: nice story about the Loyalist Black Legionnaire. But didn't Horus kill them all at Istvaan III? ;)

[Jodah]

not bad, thought with the line "prepare to die" I have to admit Inego Montoya jumped into my brain. lolz. but good story nonetheless.

[Valdr Fell-fist]

@ Skirax: Yeah, he did kill them all off. But, a little bit of artistic license isn't a bad thing, no? :D

@Jodah: Thanks a lot.

[antique_nova]

good work i like this one much more, however when he was accepted into the chapter part, i thought you meant that horus's chapter before the HH still lived! i was like wth ( what the hell ) , however i think you need to work on these parts, especially the build up to the duel, include something like the deamon beemed his eyes towards the dark figure that was smashing his way through to him.

 

parts to work on in my opinion

 

This did not worry Attalus. Like the traitors, he was ten thousand years old. He had once walked the galaxy, as one of Horus’ foremost captains. Unlike the traitors, he had stood against Horus when he betrayed the Emperor. His subordinates had been slain, and he had been doomed to spend eternity sealed in a time vault, wounded severely by Horus himself. Then came the day when the Vengeful Brotherhood had stumbled across the vault. Understandably disinclined to trust him, they had nonetheless inducted him into their Chapter, after long and arduous purity tests by the chapter’s staff of Chaplains, Apothecaries and psychic Librarians. For a thousand years he had fought with the Chapter, before ascending to the rank of First Commander, subordinate only to the High Commander, Helikaon.

His mighty hammer pulped a traitor marine with a single blow, the armour splitting as though a mountain had fallen on it. He waded into the traitor marines, warding off blows with his storm shield, and slaying all those in arms reach with little effort. Those few attacks that made it past his shield slid harmlessly from his armour.

Behind him, his brothers fought well, but none of them could match his skill, nor his strength. Occasionally, one of them would fall, spitted on a blade, or falling prey to massed bolter fire. However, with Attalus at the edge of their fighting wedge, they pushed the traitors slowly back, though it was costly. Fully half of their number fell before they managed to slay all but the Daemon Prince.

It stood twelve feet high, with wings that extended even further, the tips scratching the ceiling of the Orbital. One hand was carrying a whip that writhed with a life of it’s own, ensnaring those who came to close, the other clutching an axe, as tall as one of the Brotherhood, that glowed with baleful energies.

Attalus, his black armour slick with the blood of traitors, walked forwards to challenge the Daemon, when it spoke.

 

however vg ending keep it up!

 

thanks

antique_nova

[Sons of Horus]

uhm how in the world do you kill a DP so easily without even being scratched ^_^ other than that it was a nice short story i guess

[Valdr Fell-fist]

@ Sons of Horus: Thanks for the comment. Well, it was meant to show off Commander Attalus' formidable skill at arms, but i suppose it might be a little ott.

 

@Antique Nova: No, no, i didn't mean that! :o It was just that Attalus comes from the Luna Wolves/ Sons of Horus, that was the effect i was going for. Agains, i'll update this one soon. Thanks for all the comments.