Sons of Tyr

[Savage Mortician]

For your enjoyment (hopefully) I am posting the start of a new story, the Sons of Tyr. I know there isn't much to go on yet, but please feel free to C&C. Hope you like it

 

 

 

A pristine blanket of snow covered the land as far as the eye could see. The shapes of distant mountains could be made out, like fingers pointing to the heavens. It was in those frosty mountains the Sons of Tyr kept their fortress monastery, built as a mighty fortress, carved out of the side of the mountain range. Sergeant Heidrek and his squad had travelled from their chapters’ home out into the frozen plains to investigate a disturbance in one of the local towns. The day before, long range scans detected a sudden cease in all activity. A scout squad was dispatched to re-establish contact and to ascertain the cause of the anomaly. They didn’t return.

 

The wind howled as it blew a flurry of snow at the space marine squad. They stood still as statues, unhindered by the biting cold. They had grown used to the climate as children and the steps to becoming a superhuman increased their tolerance to cold a hundredfold. Heidrek ran his fingers through his beard and brushed the accumulated snow from the pauldrons of his dark blue power armour.

‘There’s foul work afoot here. Prepare yourselves for the worst lads’ he said, habitually grasping the runic charms that hung from his neck, running his thumb across their rough surface.

 

His squad acknowledged his warning with a nod, perfectly in unison. Heidrek drew his power sword and began to mark the locations of all the huts and buildings of the town in the snow. The squad gathered around the finished diagram as Heidrek began to devise his tactics, drawing arrows in the snow with his sword to represent the movements of his squad.

 

‘This watchtower here’ said Brother Kokkur ‘It provides an excellent vantage point for all the main entrances and exits to the town and all the main avenues of advance’ Kokkur was the most senior Battle Brother in the squad, and the best marksman

‘Aye, you will garrison the tower and provide sniper cover as we advance through in pairs. Fanjel and Dagvald you will enter from the east. Ranulf and Mykir, from the west. Heri and Svend, you come in from the South. Ulf and Bjorn you will accompany me, from the north. We will all converge at the mead hall and search it together. It’s likely that all, if any survivors will be there’ Heidrek paused and surveyed his men. They were proud and fearsome warriors all. They carried themselves with the solemn dignity that characterized the Sons of Tyr. Many outside chapters or other agents of the Imperium often mistook them for being grim and humourless, yet the process of creating Space Marines had not completely removed the spark of the human soul from the Sons as they still enjoyed several facets of life they enjoyed as humans. They particularly enjoyed feasting, often on the eve of an important battle, or just after one. Story telling was also a very important part of their culture. The oldest sergeants, battle brothers and captains alike, known as skalds, would captivate their fellow brothers with tales of ancient heroes and battles. The old sergeant drew a deep breath and ran a finger across one of the deep scars on his face. Among the Sons of Tyr scars were great badges of honour and were shown off at any opportunity. Many that bore facial scars forwent the use of a helmet in order to proudly display their battle-scars to their brothers and their enemies alike.

The cold air felt good in his lungs

 

‘You have your orders. Move out’ he said gruffly. The brothers paired off and disappeared into the growing blizzard, the boots of their power armour leaving huge footprints in their wake. Kokkur set off separately. He reached the town before the others and climbed to the top of the high watchtower on the northern edge of the town. From there he could see everything. He raised the scope of his bolter to his eye and began to systematically scan the rows of huts and dwellings, searching for enemies, obstacles, townsfolk, anything. With the exception of a few brutally murdered civilians, the town was dead.

The town, Varheim, was the largest population centre for many miles and was a recruiting ground for the Sons. Kokkur knew that Dagvald hailed from Varheim. Seeing his home-town in such a state must have been sickening for him. Kokkur watched his brothers sweep through the town, his crosshairs vigilantly seeking out any potential threats

‘The town is dead. What could have caused this?’ Mykir asked over the squads’ closed vox net

‘Perhaps a Grendal attack?’ Ranulf suggested

‘This is not the work of a Grendal’ Heidrek said ‘they are solitary creatures and would take only one or two victims. Plus there would be no bodies’ he said, stepping over the corpse of a woman, a vicious, ragged wound in her back. ‘Nor is this the work of a rival clan. The weaponry used seems to be too crude and brutal and too large for a normal warrior to wield’

 

Cautiously, Heidrek and his squad advanced through the town, to the mead hall at its heart. Heri and Svend came across a tavern; its sign seemed to have been shot with a solid –slug weapon. Heri informed the sergeant of his discovery and he and Svend stacked up on the doorway. Svend kicked the door in, his powerful, armoured legs smashing the wooden door off its hinges. The sight within appalled him

 

 

To be continued

[Sgt Rafen]

Danish inspired warriors perhaps? Grendal XD

 

It was a good read, very descriptive about the marine's customs and what not. Though at first I thought it was gonna be about the Space Wolves XD. I hope you continue the story as I cant stand cliffhangers ;)

[Lone Scout]

So far so good. It is well written and the pace is good but.....this line didn't work for me

"With the exception of a few brutally murdered civilians, the town was dead".

Sounds like the murdered townsfolk are on their feet walking around like nothing happened ;)

try empty rather than dead.

[Savage Mortician]

Thanks for the input guys. I am indeed still working on it now and then

I was going for a general nordic feel to them, with less emphasis on the more raucous aspects, like the space wolves. They are heavily inspired by the music of the band Tyr, hence the shameless use of the name