Wolf Scout

[lionofjudah]

great continuity and progression thru the story arc...would possibly recomend (or would love to have) is a 'taste' for the battle...i can almost 'hear', 'feel', and can definately 'see' it but the aroma of battle is just on the tip of your fingers...keep it comin mate!!!

[OnlyInDeath]

great continuity and progression thru the story arc...would possibly recomend (or would love to have) is a 'taste' for the battle...i can almost 'hear', 'feel', and can definately 'see' it but the aroma of battle is just on the tip of your fingers...keep it comin mate!!!

 

Appreciate that comment, and reading back, I can see what you are saying. As this is a development work for me, I will definately try to capture more beyond the 3 senses I seem to have down.

 

More to come most likely tomorrow. Thank you all for following the story, hope I can continue to make something you all appreciate.

 

-OID

[DGC]

OID - not had a chance till now to catch up on the story but it's superb. I was genuinely sat on the edge of my seat lapping up every morsel. It's getting bigger and better every time you add more, one of the best pieces of fanfiction I've read

 

Panting for the next installment

 

By the way, love the idea of cadians having plastic replicas of Land Raiders - totally tops :)

 

DGC

[OnlyInDeath]

Torvald led his scouts deeper into the tunnel in the almost pure darkness. It was only the marines' enhanced eyesight that made travel possible in the murk, and even they had to move at a cautious pace as thier eyes tried to make the most of what little light there was. The slope of the ramp continued at a shallow angle, and Torvald's internal sense of balance told him that they were slowling winding around in a broad circle, gaining height slowly as if in a wide tower. There was something about the tunnel, however, that was starting to make the hairs on the back of Torvald's neck stand on end. Gradually, the humidity level was increasing until Torvald felt as if his skin was sticky and his hair was becoming matted. In addition, there was a faint, sickly sweet scent of rot and decay that traveled down the corridor on a gentle, almost inperceptable breeze. Both the humidity and decay were something that he was not expecting to find in the hewn depths of a mountain cave, where the climate tended to be on the cold and dry side. Frowning in concern, Torvald continued on.

 

The wolves continued for another fifteen minutes, keeping a silent gait and moving like a group of shades through the darkness. As of yet, Torvald could not make out any sign of any other presence in the tunnels besides his wolves, which he found disconcerting. The troops at the entrance to the caves were obviously guarding the tunnel for a reason, but as of right now Torvald couldn't imagine why. Lost in his musings, he failed to notice the slope of the tunnel leveling out until he heard Istan grunt in surprise behind him. Snapping himself out of his reverie, he immediately felt something wrong. By his estimate, they had only gone about a third of the distance needed to reach the top of the mountain. Perhaps it had been a mistake to head up into the dark unknown, but at this point there was little choice but to push on.

 

The humidity reached a new height at the top of the tunnel, and the ambient light grew slightly as Torvald noticed that the walls were patched with a green, luminescent mold that grew in large colonies. Small beetles crawled along the wall from one colony of mold to the next, evidently harvesting something off the hardy flora. The patches that grew on the ceiling grew into giant drooping colonies that looked similar to stalagtites, but which dripped a slow but steady stream of noxious, glowing liquid into glowing pools on the floor. Overall, the tunnel was filled with a soft green glow that made his skin crawl. The stench of rot grew on the breeze from deeper in the tunnel, and Torvald became aware that his deepest concerns were founded as he caught a scent that defied all logic to define: the metallic, constantly changing scent of chaos. A low growl rumbled in his chest and he paused a moment to let the rest of the pack catch up to the new stretch of tunnel. He could tell by their body posture and pheremones that they were all suddenly a little more on edge, scanning their environment with newfound caution.

 

Using his hands to signal the rest of the squad, not wanting to risk his voice carrying down the tunnel, even in the dense humid air, Torvald rearranged the rest of the squad for pushing forward. He brought Sjurd to the front of the pack, and the scout unslung the squad flamer from his shoulder and lit the pilot light with a snap from the starter. Mikkel and Istan came in the next pairing, able to lend their firepower to whatever foe they should meet, while Gudmund and Edvin kept watch on the rear, the tunnel clearing capabilities of Gudmund's shotgun ideal for keeping a path of retreat open. The scouts continued down the dank corridor more cautiously this time, keeping a good five meters between the pairs of scouts.

 

The deeper they went into this new environment, the more steadily it took on a kind of jungle aspect. The mold thickened until it coated most of the surface of the tunnel, and the stalagtite colonies along the ceiling kept an almost constant rain of putrid liquid falling to the ground below. Evidently, the mold provided enough nutrients that it began to create the basis of it's own ecosystem, and pale ferns and creepers began to coat the floor, and slimy colonies of bacteria streaked down the walls in a rainbow of hues, eating into the bare rock and creating an undulation in the rock that made it look as if water was pouring horizontally down the tunnel. Even the amount of insect life increased; the small dark beetles now competing for the nutrients with pale mantis-like creatures, or moths that darted around in the green glow with a flourescent powder coating thier wings, making them look as if they glowed with an eerie internal light. Above it all, the smell of putrid decay increased, and Torvald could feel that his body was now fighting some sort of infection. There were very few diseases in the galaxy which could lay low a space marine, granted as they were with superhuman bodies engineered by the Emperor himself. However, the immune system of a marine still functioned much like that of a normal human, only with more efficiency. Gradually, Torvald began to feel his sinuses filling with a vile, pus-like phlegm that trickeld down the back of his throat and threatened to force him to cough to clear his lungs. Below it all, Torvald could make out a faint pulsing ruble that ran through the bedrock of the mountain itself, almost as if they were nearing the beating heart of the planet.

 

Looking back, Torvald tried to gague the health of the Wolves behind, making sure that none were succumbing to the powerful diseases permeating the air, and he nearly stumbled in surprise when he saw the figures behind him. The steady drizzle of the bioluminescent runoff from the mold had coated his men across the head and shoulders with a fine patina of the glowing liquid, and they advanced towards him like the ghosts of old terra, seeming to float along in the dark, carried by bodies concealed by the dark. Torvald cocked an eyebrow as he contemplated how he was going to combat his loss stealth with any upcoming enemy, but was shaken from his thoughts by a sound approaching down the tunnel towards them, a faint buzzing and clicking that grew steadily louder.

 

Suddenly, Torvald realized that a carpet of darkness was approaching them from the deeper tunnel. He could just make out the individual bodies of the beetles that rushed towards them. One insect alone would be laughable to a Space Wolf, but Torvald's eyes widened slighly at the sight of millions of the small bodies scrabbling and crawling along the floor and walls of the tunnel, moving towards them in a blanket of black carapaces. Torvald and Sjurd backed down the tunnel towards Istan and Mikkel, and as the scout leader drew and racked his bolt pistol, he could hear the Wolfguard follow suit and the high pitched whine of Mikkel's plasma pistol cut through the sound of scuttling insects. Finally, with the masses of insects drawing in ever closer, the scouts were left with no other option. Torvald raised his pistol. "Cook 'em!"

 

Sjurds's flamer snarled to life and he washed the blue flames of promethium along the walls and floor of the tunnel, forming a wall of fire between the insects and the wolves, but the beetles came on nonetheless, carried by the momentum of those behind, and the sounds of their carapaces popping like grain in the cleansing flames could be heard over the crackling of the flames. For once the stench of decay was drown out by the familiar smell of promethium, and Torvald drew a deep, greatful breath. He and Istan kept their fire checked, aware of the racket that bolt weaponry would make, but Mikkel lent is fire to that of Sjurd, sending blindinly bright balls of energy into the teeming masses of beetles, exploding violently and washing patches of the walls clean of any sort of unholy life. Things seemed to be going well for the wolves, until the rest of the life in the tunnel decided to react.

 

Unexpectedly, a thick creeper laying across the floor snapped to life and grabbed Torvald's ankle with incredible force, wrapping around his leg in the blink of an eye and pulling him forcefully from his feet. Before the other wolves could react, Torvald was yanked into the wall with a sickening splatter against the slime colonies and the creeper drew tight across his chest, the unexpected iron strength of the vine enough to keep even his superhuman strength in check. With a roar, he saw Istan shoulder his bolter and fire a burst into the pulsating creeper tendril, the bolts blasting clear through the plant which dropped Torvald unceremoniously to the ground. Noticing the smell of burning fur rising from his back, Torvald shouldered off his wolf pelt and saw that the slime on the wall had begun to eat through the hair of the pelt, in some places already eating clear through the thick leather hide beneath. With a feral snarl, Torvald retrieved his fallen bolt pistol and began raining shots into any intact plant life he saw.

 

In sudden movement from above, several of the stalagtite colonies above the wolves crashed down into their midst, spraying the glowing fluid in all directions and drenching the hapless group of scouts. In reaction, the tide of beetles redoubled their efforts, and crashed into the flames of promethium with wanton abandon, using pure weight of numbers to extinguish the flames due to lack of oxygen to burn. Sjurd continued to fire bursts of flamer into the oncoming wave, but the numbers of the beetles kept the fire from being effective enough to stop them, and Mikkel could only lend so much support as his plasma pistol began to radiate dangerous heat. It was the glowing rain!Torvald thought with a start. The ecosystem of the cave acted like a security alarm, coating any intruders with the putrid droppings from above, and the flora and fauna reacted violently, trying to draw in the nutrients and water contained within. "All wolves, fire at will!" he bellowed above the roar of the flamer.

 

He saw the glow of Gudmund before the wolf made his presence truly known. The boom of his combat shotgun cut clear through the bedlam around him, and he made the most of some of his specialized shells. Developed in the Tyrannic Wars to combat the thick carapaces of the main tyrannid forces, hellfire technology made it's way into many of the Imperium's weapons systems, most notably bolters and heavy bolters. However, the combat shotgun also provided an additional weapon system that could be used in a unique way. The slugs of ceramic encased biopoison could cover a wider range than a bolter fired hellfire shell. It was ideal for cutting down the ripper swarms that devastated any life ahead of the main tyrannid force. In a spray of shrapnel and corrosive poison, Gudmund blasted the oncoming horde of insect life into submission, giving Sjurd enough time to extend his wall of flame a considerable distance back down the tunnel, and as quickly as it started, the attack from the tunnel was over.

 

Pausing to admire the blue flames guttering down the corridor, Torvald looked back at the rest of his squad as they reloaded their weapons, drops from the overhead colonies hissing as they touched the superheated frame of Mikkel's plasma pistol. Istan gave him a grin, the white of his teeth green in the remaining luminescent glow. "Well, at least we won't be bored!" he bellowed good naturedly, and clapped Torvald roughly across the shoulder as he strode ahead, shattered carapaces crunching loudly under his boots. Despite himself, Torvald couldn't help but grin as well. He had truly missed his old friend, and it felt good to be fighting along side him once more.

 

+++++++

 

Yet again Gavin's head rung like a bell from a near miss. At first nothing made it through his swimming senses, and he drifted an ocean of noise, lost to the outside world. Gradually, the ringing in his ears eased back into reality, the incredible detonations of tank shells coming through as faint pops, then as distant rumbles that he more felt than heard, finally resolving in a popping stacatto of small arms fire that rushed to greet the next shell detonation in a tidal wave of noise. His vision cleared the black spots that danced before his eyes, and painfully he picked himself up from the rubble, coughing harshly as he inhaled the fine mist of pulverized stone that filled the air around him in a grey fog. He spat a goblet of blood from his raw, ravaged lungs, the metallic taste of iron cutting through the chalk of the rock dust that covered him from head to toe, obscuring the dark green of his combat webbing. Finally, pulling his lasgun back up to his shoulder, he eased himself back up to the rubble pile, finding a comfortable position among the shattered stone and steel of the rubble pile, and wiped the grime from his targeting lens. Sighting his gun at a group of figures that he could just make out shambling through the dust and smoke of the battlefield, he began firing, noting with satisfaction as the hunched, shambling forms of the diseased PDF erupted in fountains of black blood and pus, falling to the ruins around them. A few tried to regain their feet, but Gavin simply kept shooting until they stopped moving, blasting the corrupted bodies into a tangle of body parts.

 

Momentarily clear of any target, Gavin surveyed the scene around him. The line of shops where the Imperials had formed up the defensive lines was now nothing more than gutted ruins. Artillery had rained down upon them after the Wolves joined the lines, only to cut short unexpectedly right when it seemed like they would all be pounded to dust. The momentary respite didn't last altogether long, with the shells raining down on them anew, but the barrage was noticably lighter, and it had given the Guard enough time to dig more solidly into thier positions, lessening the losses. Finally, the enemy had grown tired of waiting and advanced down the streets running perpendicular to the defensive lines, columns of Leman Russ battle tanks combined with demolishers pushed towards the dug in Imperials, and forged headlong into the curtain of anti-tank fire that coursed down the narrow approaches, taking a fearsome toll on the advancing armor. Even now, Gavin could make out the thick pillars of black smoke that rose from the burnt out husks of enemy armor that choked the approaches.

 

The numbers, however, finally began to work against the Imperials, and in a series of crashes that rang along a several kilometer stretch of the lines, squadrons of tanks burst from the shops opposite the Guard, having cut directly through the hab blocks that stood in the way, and they began punishing the allied forces with a hellish point-blank torrent of demolisher shells and high explosive standard rounds. Infantry moved up to support the tanks and moved into the upper floors of the shops and hab stacks, pouring down fire into the Imperial positions. As the Guard responded, the world had suddenly shrunk around Gavin, as the dust and smoke obscured the broad avenue separating the two forces, and forcing him into a fight only against the traitor PDF that he could see across from him. That is how things had remained for the next several hours. He could hear much of the battle around him, and from time to time a titanic explosion would cut through the dust cloud, signalling the end of both allied and enemy armor alike.

 

As he looked around the battlefield, the sounds of heavy fighting continued around him, shells falling among men and buildings, the cutting bolts of light from embattled troops snapping through the haze in harsh cracks. Somewhere over to his right Gavin could hear the roar of the Land Raider Crusader's hurricane bolters, mixed with the double bursts of storm bolters as the Space Wolves continued to hold their ground. Gavin idly wondered how the Emperor's Finest were faring. Early in the battle, he had seen of the armored forms from the crusader take a shell from a battle tank square in the chest, rending the proud marine to pieces of charred flesh and smoking ceramite which rained down in heavy clunks on the ruins below. After that, however, the dust had settled and he could make out little else from that direction apart from the chatter of heavy weapons fire. He supposed that one reason he was still alive was the proximity to such imposing beasts of war.

 

The makeshift squad that he had started the battle with, the hardened survivors of the previous several defensive lines, was mostly intact in the ruins around him. A pair of them manned a missile launcher, though they had mostly just stayed in cover, not wanting to waste their precious ammunition unless an enemy tank moved against them. the rest of them spread out into whatever cover they could find, and had seen enough action in the past few hours to learn quite quickly when to keep their heads down, minimalizing casualties. Nonetheless, in war, nothing ever ended easily, and several stray shells had landed into their positions, and the shapeless remains of several of the squad lay in steaming piles of blood and offal. Judging by the sounds of fighting around him, Gavin wagered that the Imperials were giving better than they were getting, but considering the numbers of the enemy, he wondered if it would be enough.

 

Through his musings, Gavin could make out the rumble of promethium engines, and snapped himself to attention as he crouched as closely to the ground as possible, using his gunsight to scan the dust ahead of him. He could make out movement in the shadows of the buildings opposite him, but nothing more. From the size of the shadows, and the rumbling of the engines, he could hazzard a guess, however. As if in comfirmation to his thoughts, the vox bead in his ear burst to life, static clouding the transmission. "-ontact, rep-t, cont-...enemy advan-...along all lines...pr-re to fall back. Pepare to-..." The transmission cut off in a burst of static as the dust ahead of Torvald burst into fire from within, and as the blastwaves from the cannon reports cleared away the fog of battle, Torvald could make out the foreboding forms of enemy armor advancing upon the Imperial lines. It was one more push, and it sounded like the Guard didnt have the resources left on this stretch of line to make a stand any longer.

 

Once more, Gavin's world faded out into white noise as his head felt like it was rung like a bell as gouts of stone and flame erupted only a handful of meters from his position. Gradually, as always, his senses slowly reactivated one at a time. He coughed into the rubble around him, kicking up a small cloud of chalky dust, and opened his eyes. He blinked them several times, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. While the ground around him was rumbling, feeling as if it was going to shake itself apart from the multiple impacts of ordinance around him, the trickle of rubble was not falling down the slope of the scree pile. Instead...it was floating upwards. Gradually, he became aware that the ringing that he was hearing was not coming from within is ears, but from the world around him. It felt like the air itself was building up a massive static charge, and he felt the hair on his head and arms standing completely on end. As the whine began to increase in strength, he saw more rubble raising into the air as more energy bled into the surrounding terrain, and the stench of ozone became almost overbearing. Finally, when it felt as if the world was going to rend itself apart, a series of searing bolts of white light blasted into the oncoming tanks, simply vaporizing the heavy armored carapaces and surrounding ruins. Each blast took with it several tanks, and the lances of energy continued for a hundred meters up the line, wreaking havoc with every strike. Stretching down the line to the opposite side, great gouts of blue-white flame pulsed into the armor and cityscape behind, buring everything it touched with the power of a sun and melting metal and stone on the molecular level. Gavin could hardly believe the level of destruction that was performed before him, and suddenly he felt very small indeed. Shielding his eyes against the low sun and blinking away flash blindness, Gavin looked up into the belly of a god.

 

The rumbles that he had felt had not been only the detonations of the enemy guns around him, but also the footfalls of a Reaver scout titan as it broke from its hiding place and advanced into the traitor push. On one arm, the many barrels of an energy weapon cycled around, their energy spent and the barrels cooling with deafening pops and hisses. On the other, the power coils of an incredibly huge plasma weapon glowed white hot as it built power for another salvo. The mighty machine stood almost directly over Gavin, as if sheltering the meager guardsmen under it's protective bulk, and from this distance he could make out the ornate scrollwork and icons of devotion that covered almost every square inch of the titan's armor plating, ending only where deep gashes from enemy weaponry marred the surface. Giant banners hung from each arm, the names of slain traitor titans written on each, proclaiming the kill tally for each of the mighty weapons. Upon the great hunched back of the Reaver, another great plasma cannon lay nestled between the armored shoulders.

 

With a hissing of hydraulics and grinding of gears, the titan took several steps backwards, covering dozens of meters with each stride, the ground shaking and cracking under the footfalls. As it backed away, Gavin could make out more of the mighty engine's features, and he could see the glowing green eyes of the cockpit blazing in killing hunger, scanning the surrounding terrain for new targets. Again, his vox bead came to life as the call for retreat was issued across the Imperial lines. Yet again, the Guard were trading a few hundred meters for time. They had already fallen back about two kilometers from the intial defensive lines, and Gavin wondered just how much longer they could continue to give ground.

 

He took a moment to watch a trio of Vulture gunships streak off to the east, unleasing their rocket pods into the city below in a blossom of fire and smoke, and then he turned to the rest of his squad as they picked themselves out of the rubble and hobbled off further to the north.

 

 

++++++

 

 

 

Sorry this took me so long to get posted up, but I hope that you are appreciating the storyline that's unfolding. I hadn't really realized how much I had put down on here until my wife copied it to her iPod and it took up over 40 pages of text prior to this post, so I thank you all for having the endurance to read so much! I may be able to post more later tonight after the young pup heads to bed.

 

Enjoy, C&C welcome as always!

 

-OID

[lunchb0x]

Friggin awesome! Cant wait for more!!

[Natanael]

this is GREAT! We need more =D

[Durfast Spiritwolf]

It's going great - can't wait for the next installment

[Roguemarine]

Bravo OID keep it coming

[DGC]

Excellent OID. Your decriptive abilities are superb, really painting a great picture of the action and carnage - i'm lovin' it

 

And all the wolves howled in unison "More, More, More, More"

 

(I'm getting addicted to this stuff. Needing a fix quicker than I can get it)

[OnlyInDeath]

The thrum in the bedrock was becoming stronger the deeper they went into the mountain. It felt as if the rock had a heart beat, slow and steady, unrelenting as time itself. The scouts could feel it all the way up into their bones, vibrating them to the core as their bones resonated with the stone of the tunnel. It was just one more part of this place that permeated them, one more way to make this journey as miserable as possible. Every minute, the vibrations crested, only to immediately drop back down in amplitude. Torvald could keep track of their progress and the time they had spent in the tunnel simply by tracking the "heartbeats".

 

The progress through the tunnels had become slow and grueling. The photoluminescent drizzle from the mold colonies lining the ceiling coated the wolves from head to toe, causing them to glow faintly along the upper surfaces of their armor and bodies, casting the recesses into deeper shadow. They looked like a pack of ghosts silently making their way along the cave. The defense systems of the cavern had tried to rally against them several more times, but the wolves had been better prepared, and handled the living tide of insectoid life and the lurking creepers lining the rock with ease. The only concern that Torvald had about the battles was that it ate through their ammunition at a prodigious rate. Sjurd had already gone through his first tank of promethium, and was halfway through the second, leaving him with only one more to spare. The rest of the wolves were operating on only a few clips of bolter ammunition, or a handful of shotgun shells.

 

However, judging by the stench that hung in the air, Torvald assumed that they were nearing whatever destination this corridor led to, and he had some ideas where that might be. The overbearing sense of decay that permiated the essence of the tunnel was enough to begin wearing even on the legendary stamina and will of a space marine. The air was so thick with humidity, that every surface was coated in a slimy film of putrid water, and the air was thick with a mist that carried the scent of a rotted corpse. The drizzle from the roof of the cavern had accumulated over time into a glowing sludge that sat ankle deep on the ground, and was thick with a soup of grey-green algae and mutated reptiles which darted ahead of the wolves. The lizzards had a pox-marked elongated body, covered with broken and decaying scales, and a large head dominated by a hulking set jaws lined with serrated teeth, and Torvald was glad that the relative small size of the animals, only half a meter in length, meant that the stature of the marines was enough to keep them at arms distance. Over it all, Torvald could feel his body continuing to fight the diseases that were building up inside of it, his lungs beginning to fill with mucus and sweat standing out on his fevered forehead.

 

As Torvald slopped ahead through the muck, he suddenly felt a presence at his shoulder, and looked over to see Istan walking beside him, staring straight ahead into the mistly gloom ahead of them.

 

"It seems that the Emperor was looking to send us on a vacation to a nice, warm locale when He put the notion into the Wolf Lord's thick skull to send us on this mission," Istan quipped. "We will have to remember to send him a thank you once when we find ourselves a free astropath."

 

Torvald snorted in amusement, but immediately regretted it as he had to fight to keep the snot accumulating in his sinuses from running down the front of his armor. "It would be a vacation that only a Son of Russ could appreciate. I think the soft Terrans would find it a bit unseasonal for their tastes, what with the constant rain and overcast skies," Torvald retorted, raising his head and arms to the ceiling. He could make out Istan's amused grin in the green glow, and the two wolves continued their grueling trudge through the cave.

 

He couldn't help but feel a sense of comraderie when he was with his old friend. They had been through thick and thin together, and for decades they had watched eachother's backs, forming a bond of friendship that no amount of time apart could break. Istan was a constant in Torvald's world of constant change and battle. Torvald's mood darkened and he scowled into the darkness as he thought of how that group of close friends had once included Fenring. While Istan carried on good relations with the wolf lord, Torvald could still not bring himself to forgive or forget what happened inside that Gargant.

 

Istan must have noticed the change in his mood, most likely from his scent as the light of the tunnel was barely enough to see by. "One day, brother, perhaps you will realize that everyone makes mistakes."

 

Torvald swung his golden eyes toward his friend, readying a scathing reply, when he noticed that Istan had silently stopped and brought his bolter up to bear. Snapping his head back around, he glanced back up the cave and found that they had finally reached the end of the tunnel. A pulsating sickly yellow light was permeating the gloom ahead, and Torvald could make out the circular border of the corridor as it opened out into a vast cavern beyond. Pushing himself as close to the slime coated walls as he dared, Torvald lowered himself to a crouch and moved up to the edge of the apurature, and looked out at a great sea of filth.

 

The cavern was immense, stretching over two kilometers in diameter in either direction, with massive pillars of natural stone holding up the roof far above. The top of the cavern was hidden in an artificial cloud cover as the humidity condensed slightly along the roof, creating rolling, mustard yellow clouds that hung lazily above. The walls of the grotto were similar to those of the tunnel, coated in great, dripping colonies of slime mold and bacteria which bred at such a rate in the rarified atmosphere that they were continuously spilling themselves down to the base of rock below. It was the floor of the cavern that gave Torvald pause, as he looked out over a small ocean of bacterial scum, crawling with all manner of primative creatures, scarcely able to hold themselves together against the literal tide of disease that tried to permeate thier bodies. He could make out the great, sinuous lizzards snaking lithely through the muck, kicking up great clouds of flies that flowed around the chamber like a second layer of cloud cover. And finally, he found the source of the pulsing light and vibration.

 

Spaced in a triangle in the middle of the chamber, three gigantic plasma reactors sat in a standby state, the heavily shielded housing holding the voltile cores like a metal egg, the adamantite and magnetic fields holding the power of a sun in check. A vast network of cables as thick as a rhino snaked around the feet of the reactors and connected them together creating a power network that could fuel a battleship if need be. Instead, the cables wrapped around the rock columns supporting the upper reaches of the cavern like a snake and disappered into the smog above. Torvald realized that he was looking at the source of power for the orbital defense lasers above. Each reactor fed its own weapon, the incredible energies needed for the high powered lance weaponry maginfied by the fact that there was miles of atmosphere disappating the energy of the beam as it reached out from the planet's surface. To compensate, the designers had simply booseted the power of the weapon to incredible proportions, ensuring that even after the weapon cleared the atmospheric gasses, it would have enough power to punch right through a fully shielded cruiser.

 

Perhaps Istan was right, and perhaps the Allfather was guiding their way on this mission. Instead of finding a way into the fortress above and taking on the entire garrison of troops, they had found a way to silence the guns permanently, and from the look of things, completley unopposed. With the scouts gathered up behind him, Torvald looked back at his men with a grin on his face, ready to lead them down into the undulating ocean of single celled life, when the flies swarming around cavern swarmed in a black wave towards the tunnel entrance.

 

Millions of small, black bodies swarmed together in a buzzing mass, which began to form the approximation of a great, horned face leering down at the scouts below. Even with only the flies forming the visage, great rolls of simulated fat sat about the face's neck and padded the "head". Short stumps of horn poked out from the forehead and the eyes were nothing more than slits. The image opened its mouth and the flies formed themselves into a long, undulating toungue that reached out and licked the top of the head. Finally, splitting into a grin, the face spoke with the sound of millions of chitinous bodies rubbing together.

 

"Oh, dear me, dear me. You will have to forgive me for being such a terrible host. You see, I wasn't expecting to have company. But look at you! So delightfully clean, I would love to be able to help you poor souls out with that! So tell me, to what to I owe the pleasure of your presenses?" the face asked with a child-like expression of delight on it's face.

 

Growling, Torvald strode into the open air of the cavern, drawing his power axe from the sheath across his back and pulling his bolt pistol from its holster. "I am Torvald Goldeneyes, Son of Russ, warrior of the Space Wolves chapter. I serve the Allfather and the Great Wolf, an honor that you cannot begin to imagine, daemon."

 

"Tsk, such hostility! Oh, but how I wish I could be there to entertain you little puppies, but, alas, you should have called ahead. I guess they don't teach manners on that iceball you call home," the face continued, scowling briefly before once again breaking into a grin, "But, lucky for you, Grandfather Nurgle always has a means to provide! I shall have to let some of my very close friends entertain you. Ta ta! I DO hope that we meet again, and then you will know what it's like to be properly pampered. Ta!" With a final wink, the face disappered into a fine haze as the corpses of the flies fell lightly to the pool of disease below, their energy spent by the sorcerous energies of the daemon.

 

As the flies formed a dark carpet of shells across the surface of the lake, the mire below them began to roll and churn, pooling the piles of flies together into a dozen separate mounds. With a great slurping wave, the muck closed over the flies and for a moment the lake was once more placid. Then, silent as death, the forms of a dozen plaguebearers reared out of the slime with a sucking sound that reminded Torvald of a bullet being pulled from a wound. They stood as still as statues for a few seconds before a yellow flaming light burst into their eyes and they began slowly wading through the bacterial soup that rose up to their knees, advancing towards the scouts.

 

As the scouts fanned out to the wall of the cavern on either side of him, Torvald racked his bolt pistol and opened the vox link. "Alright wolves, lets show these chaos born whoresons what happens when you call wolves, 'puppies'". With a savage howl, the scouts scrambled down the scree at the edge of the lake, and launched themselves at the lesser daemons bearing down at them.

 

 

 

 

+++++++++

 

 

That's about all I have time for at the moment, but I wanted to give you guys a little more to go on. I will try to get more posted up either late tonight or tomorrow, but I fully intend to finish out the chapter before the weekend is through, I promise!

 

Hope you enjoy,

 

-OID

[Grimmaw]

:)

 

how do you do it?

OID you are producing one of the best Sci-Fi story i have ever read

keep it up

i cant wait for the next installment

 

Grim

[lunchb0x]

puppies...LOLOL I love it!

[hendrik]

oh ,great work mate none the less:)keep it up this way!

[Natanael]

Puppies :lol: GO PUPPIES!

 

This is great. Good work indeed!

[DGC]

Just keeps getting better and better

 

Will this be enough to get me to the weekend I wonder :P :no: :yes: :no: :yes: :no: need more ;)

[lionofjudah]

:P...good stuff man!!

[OnlyInDeath]

Fenring sat on the ramp of his Land Raider Crusader, lost in his own thoughts. The constant fullisade of fire pouring out of the great war machine kept the hull around him vibrating in a constant thrum as it unleashed a wall of mass reactive explosives into the waves of the enemy swarming down towards the Wolve's positions. The din of battle combined into a continuous roar of explosions cut occasionally only by the shrieks of dying men, or the blast of titan weaponry, which was enough to block out all other sound for a few moments. The dust and smoke in the air, the smell of spilt blood and offal, the body jarring thump of high explosives and the waves of heat washing over him like water; These were all matter-of-fact for the wolf lord. It was all part of the daily routine that he had bourne stoically through over two centuries of service. It was nothing that could break his concentration, and he sat undisturbed in his musings.

 

If only the same could be said for General Crassius, Fenring thought to himself.

 

Despite having served in the Cadian Guard for most of his life, the General was not holding up well in the current sitation. It seemed that the relentless tide of overwhelming enemy forces bearing down on them, constantly pushing them from position to position was beginning to tell on the older man. Perhaps it was because he had spent too much of his military career as a commanding officer in the rear echelon, safe and secure among the baggage train and reserves. Fenring took a moment to observe the General in action. The stress was only too apparent, as the explosions of near misses caused him to jump slightly, the screams of his dying men caused him to grit his teeth visibly, and his eyes bulged and shoulders hunched as he screamed his orders into the reciever of the mobile vox unit his communication's officer carried, crouched on his heels by his commanding officer. Sweat beaded on the man's forehead, and the mire of dust condensed into a patina of clay that blended in with the older man's grey hair. Even from this distance and with his helmet in place, Fenring could smell the man's unease, his terror. He simply permeated fear, and Fenring was sure that the only thing that kept the man from cracking was his Cadian training. Even then, the only thing Fenring felt for the man was contempt. His soldiers were holding up admirably in the face of such a relentless foe, and yet this man, safely behind the lines in his command chimera, was slowly snapping. Fenring briefly wondered what it was about this campaign that was causing the man to crack.

 

Standing up from his hard metal perch, Fenring reached over and grabbed the scabbard of his mighty sword, wrapping it around his shoulders and back. He stretched his arms and shoulders in his mighty terminator armor, causing bone fetishes to clatter together gently, and he took a moment to rue the holes burned through his wolf pelt from the barrages of lasgun fire he had already endured. He strode down the side ramp of his tank and walked back towards the General's position behind him. He paused for a moment to look out past the flanks of his Crusader, which stood blocking the entire inroad of the interseciton they were guarding, and looked out over the Wolfguard defending this section of the line. His guard were snapping off precision strikes against the enemy, keeping them at bay with a combination of accuracy and devastating weaponry. Already, the half-rotted corpses of the mutants were piled high in front of the Wolve's lines, blackend blood mixing with thick yellow pus in great pools that hung heavy with flies and gave off the sweet, putrid scent of rot and decay. Even so, they kept coming in seemingly endless waves, and the heavy amount of tanks kept pushing the defenders back further and further.

 

Watching a flight of Mauraders high over head, Fenring gazed upon the enormous crater that Torvald had blasted into Ravik's crust. Right now it helped the Imperials defensive positions, narrowing the approaches of the invading hordes to positions east and west of the craters, and the attack had begun to get bogged down even further, allowing the Imperials a breif respite. But Fenring doubted it would be enough. Already the Guard had lost over half their number, and the casualties were mounting by the moment. Every road, every pile of rubble from the south of the city to this point was choked with the piles of Imperial and PDF dead. The losses to the Wolves to this point was comparatively light, but that would not last too much longer either. Ammunition was beginning to run dangerously low, and while he did not doubt the bloodthirsty nature of his warriors, given the sheer number of the enemy they would be facing, it was inevitable that chinks in their armor could be found, and his bretheren would fall. Time was running short, and yet Crassius held to the original plan like a lifeline, unwilling to adjust to the sitation at hand.

 

Approaching the General's chimera, Fenring pulled off his helmet and allowed himself a deep breath of the smokey air, relishing the freshness over the recycled air of his suit's systems. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of fear that permeated off the General like a palpable aura, and he glared at the man with his intense green eyes. If the General caught sight of this enough to care, he gave no sign as he screamed himself hoarse into the reciever of his vox, turning a unique shade of maroon and causing the veins in his neck and forehead to bulge. Finally, growing impatient, Fenring simply walked up to the vox unit and flipped the switch to "off". As if finally realizing the two and a half meter form towering above him, Crassius jumped to his feet and crowded in close to the Wolf Lord, glowering up into the Wolf's beard and lower chin.

 

"What do you think you are doing??? I'm trying to orchestrate a war here, and you cut me off from my troops! I should have you stripped of your armor and placed in chains for insubbordination! Do not forget that I am the commanding officer here, Astartes, not you!!!" the General screamed into Fenring's face, near hysterical.

 

Fenring took a moment to pluck the hankerchief hanging out of the General's breast pocket, wiping the spittle from his face before dropping it back on the man's shoes. Straightening himself up to his full height, he brought the full effect of his baleful gaze down upon the man and spoke with the impossible force of an avalanche. "You would do well to remember, General, that you address a Space Marine, the sword of the Emperor Himself, not some mere junior officer. You will speak to me with respect, or I will remove your spine through your chest." He paused a moment to let that settle in, and was rewarded as the man blanched and swallowed hard. The Wolf's acute hearing picked out a few stifled chuckles from the soldiers around him. "Now, if you would be so kind to calm yourself for a moment, we need to discuss the redeployment of the-"

 

Fenring cut himself off as he caught the high pitched whine of an inbound shell over the roar of the battle around him. "Incoming!" he bellowed, and pulled his helmet on. Acting out of instinct, he reacted to protect the soldiers around him and grabbed a pair of them, the vox operator and the General's adjundant, and pulled them to the ground beneath him, his incredible bulk, cloaked by his wolfpelt, sheltering the men underneath him just before the artillery barrage struck home. The world around the Wolf Lord erupted into a hellstorm of fire, broken bits of stone and ragged pieces of shrapnel that bounced off his armor, and the protective energy field built into his suit's right shoulder flared as it deflected the worst of the dibris away from him. A dozen explosions rocked the earth, and Fenring's head felt like it was cracking inside his helm as the concussive forces battered him from all directions, and his suit's air system kicked in as the raging fires greedily ate the oxygen out of the air, in the same instant extinguishing itself. The Chimera directly beside Fenring detonated, adding the fury of its explosion to the mayhem all around. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was only a handful of seconds, it was all over.

 

With his pelt smoking across his broad shoulders, Fenring picked himself off the ground and looked at the prone forms of the men beneath him. The proximity of the blasts, literally right on top of them, meant that the blast waves alone were enough to kill the men, liquifying their organs. Already, a thin trickle of pureed viscera was leaking out of their mouths and ears as they stared sightlessly into the air. Cursing, Fenring pulled himself the rest of the way up and checked his armor's integrity out of pure habit. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, he reached down to pick up the mobile vox unit, which crackled with static. Carefully making his way across the newly broken landscape, ascending and decending into and out of craters a couple of meters deep, Fenring made his way back towards the front line where his Guard kept up their fire into the oncoming enemy. Spotting a group of Imperial Guard who had hunkered down into the ruined shell of a building just behind the Wolves' position, popping up occasionally to lend their lasgun fire to the defenses, Fenring made his way over to them. The guardsmen glanced up at him, and Fenring realized that these men had been fighting on the front line most likely since the beginning of the battle, their green uniforms almost entirely obscured with grey dust, which coated their skin as well, broken only by the bright contrast of dried red blood which had poured from dozens of superficial wounds from each and every one of them. After taking a moment to absorb the sight of a fully armored Space Wolf terminator bearing down on their position, they continued to fire advantageous shots at the general direction of the enemy. With a smile to himself, Fenring strode up the pile of rubble they were hunkered down within and crouched down beside the, taking up the entire rear section of the building.

 

Pointing at one, who he judged to have blonde hair beneath all that stone dust, and who looked back at him with crystal clear blue eyes, framed by a square face and set jaw criss-crossed with half a dozen shrapnel lacerations, Fenring held up the voxcaster in his hand. "Can you operate this?" he asked, and recieved a sharp nod in return. Fenring tossed the set into the man's lap. "You are now division Vox officer."

 

He pointed at another. This one had steel grey eyes and short trimmed brown hair could be seen beneath his securely strapped helmet. Fenring could tell by the body language of the men around him, combined with the scents they were all giving off, that this was the one they all differed command to. He was a genrally unremarkable man. A private, juding by the stripe on his shoulder. Strong but wiry build, average height, and the same chisled jaw common of Cadia, where a boy went into intense physical training as soon as they could walk. "What's your name, soldier?" Fenring asked.

 

The man looked back into the Wolf Lord's masked helmet, staring directly into the glowing red eyes. His eyes spoke of exhaustion and adrenaline warring with eachother. Of admiration and apathy. The look of a hardened soldier. "Trooper Gavin Valentine, Lord."

 

"Congradulations, Trooper Valentine. I am giving you a field commision to the rank of colonel. Judging by what I've heard on the command frequency, that should be enough to make you the ranking officer left in the division. If anyone gives you trouble, they can answer to me. Any questions?" Gavin shook his head dumbly, an expression of pure shock engraved upon his features. "Good. Now, I want you to get on the vox and begin withdrawing the troops back to the forest line north of the city. The guard are too few to hold the city, and we simply await our deaths by remeaning here, and right now our deaths do not serve the Emperor well."

 

"Yes, Lord. But how will we keep the enemy from our backs? They haven't let up for the past three hours, what makes you think they will stop now?" Gavin asked, and Fenring could already appreciate his own decision for promoting the man. It's exactly the question he should have asked.

 

"The Wolves will provide a diversion. Now move, you have fifteen minutes to begin the retreat. We will give you as much time as possible, but you must move fast." With that, Fenring stood up, oblivious to the lasbolts slashing through the air around him and plinking into his thick armor. He turned and strode back towards his Land Raider without another word, and he could hear the men behind him speaking quickly but calmly into the voxcaster, organizing the fighting retreat.

 

++++

 

Exactly fifteen minutes later, a howl erupted all along the Imperial lines, roared from almost a hundred and fifty mouths, powered by super-human lungs. The howl rose above the roar of explosions, the fire-cracker snap of lasguns, and the yelling and screaming of men. Finally, in incoherent blares from mechanized throats, a dozen dreadnaughts burst forth from intervals all along the Imperial lines and charged towards the awaiting mutants. Venerated by all Space Marine chapters alike, the Iron Wolf Great Company held dreadnaughts in awe-filled reverence, and had always been able to field more of the mighty war machines than what many other entire chapters could bring to bear. Powerful arm-mounted weaponry blazed as the walking tanks bore down on the PDF lines, and return fire splashed ineffectually off the thick front armor of the machines. With a bone splintering crunch, the dreadnaughts hit the pile of bodies advancing towards them like a dozen cannonballs, shattering the men directly in thier path into a fine paste of bone and blood, and blasting dozens of other off their feet in a wave of kinetic energy that hurled them ten meters into the air.

 

In a mass of grey-blue power armor, the rest of the Space Wolves charged after their entombed bretheren with a frenzied howl as their armor and attack bikes moved forward, laying down a curtain of supporting fire skillfully around the advancing marines. Bloodclaws mounted in roaring bikes advanced ahead with a blare of engines and revving chainswords. With a spray of blood, bone, and gristle, the marines hit the PDF line and started pushing back.

 

Advancing in a line with is Wolfguard, Fenring couldn't help but wear a savage grin as he waded through the teeming mass of the enemy soldiers in front of him. Realization slowly sank through thier plague-fevered brains and panic slowly stole through the mob around him, but the wolves did not stop. Djevelsverd glowed slightly as he swung it in broad arcs in front of him, clearing a space around him three meters wide. It seemed to sap the sorcerous energies from the soldiers around him, and they were already mostly dead as he clove them in half, the disease and putresence in thier bodies unable to be held back by the powers of chaos.

 

This is how a Wolf fights, Fenring thought to himself. Lure the enemy in close, and then destroy them with a devestating charge. There was little in the galaxy that could stand up to the might of the Space Wolf legion, and he could tell from the posturing of his men around him that for the first time in this battle, they felt at home on the battlefield, doing what they did best. With a howl of delight and a red haze creeping into the periphria of his vision, Fenring took two bounding steps and lept directly into the heart of the milling bodies ahead.

 

 

 

Chapter 5 end.

 

 

 

 

Well, this section of the book definately ended up taking up more then I thought it would, but I figured that you guys would appreciate a little more depth in the writing over keeping the story advancing at a breakneck pace. Frankly, I'm actually enjoying writing more and more as I flesh this out. I will try to get back to a couple updates a week, but hopefully life will allow me to do that. Anyway, thanks for all the support, hope you are still enjoying it!

 

-OID

[Natanael]

Oh yes! I have started to like fenring now. A LOT! :D Terminators for the win!

[lunchb0x]

word. Keep it up. Just check on some of your spelling here and there.

 

Awesome work man.

[lionofjudah]

'rip out your spine thru yer chest'...that had me laughin out loud:)...

is comin together real nice man!!

[OnlyInDeath]

word. Keep it up. Just check on some of your spelling here and there.

 

Awesome work man.

 

Aye, spelling errors will be noticable as right now I'm just getting the story out there. In the end, I will take the whole thing, copy it into word and do lots of editing and proof reading before taking the whole thing and posting it back up in it's complete form (it may actually have some additional paragraphs here and there, where I think it will need to be fleshed out). I just hope you all take any spelling or gramatical errors at this point in stride as it's definately not a finished product. Consider this a WIP where I've got the first few layers down. Inking and highlighting will be coming up later :D

 

Anywho, thanks for the support guys, will try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible!

 

-OID

[Roguemarine]

got the read that last two posts today, great work OID keep it up

[OnlyInDeath]

Will try to get another post up (most likely a rather long one) by Tues.

 

Sorry to keep you waiting brothers, but father's day is family day :P

 

-OID

[OnlyInDeath]

well, i was gonna have a nice long post for you guys, but I managed to :) lose it about an hour and 40 min in....so I guess you will have to wait for another night....

 

wow, I'm really pissed that happened.....lol

 

...............

[lionofjudah]

...ugh...i feel ya man!! i relly dislike it when that happens...thx for redoin it 4 us bro!!