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Tales from the Fang


Firenze

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Artwork??

My thoughts exactly! What the feth do you mean by artwork, exactly?

 

Firenze is an artisan as well lads! He paints murals of our great deeds!

 

Looking forward to seeing the outcome as I liked your speedpaint piece a while back.

Chapter 5

 

Sergeant Feron cowered behind the sandbag wall as the las rounds of the enemy infantry spattered against it. His squad, the last survivors of 12th Platoon, had been holding back the tide of traitors for four hours straight. Ammunition was running very low. Feron himself only had 2 mags left. He whipped up, spraying his lasgun fire at the oncoming troops, causing them to duck for cover. He leapt back down into cover to reload, popping the cell out of its slot in the weapon and slamming in another. A trooper next to him levelled the squad’s grenade launcher and stood up, pumping fragmentation grenades into the enemy positions. Suddenly, a las round speared through the skull of the unfortunate man, spraying the cowering Guardsmen with gore. Feron leapt back up to fire as the lasgun barrage began to cease. He leapt up to meet a Space Wolf, garbed in the legendary Terminator armour standing in front of him, the chest plate filling his vision like a brick wall. He cried out, falling back in surprise in the dirt.

 

The Marine chuckled, holding out his hand to lift the Sergeant to his feet as more Space Wolves appeared from the mist. Feron took the proffered hand, allowing the giant to pull him up.

‘Wh-Who are you?’ stammered the spooked Guardsman.

‘I am Lord Ragnarok of the Space Wolves. You fight well. However, I need to see your commanding officer, we have information for him,’ said the Wolf, his voice rumbling like the thunder itself.

‘Yessir. This way,’ said Feron, signalling his squad to move back to the forward outpost, 3 miles west.

 

The squad moved out, with the giants of the Space Wolf pack following behind towards the barely visible shape of the Imperial outpost.

 

*

 

Firenze trudged on towards the outpost with Warhorse and Mikal next to him. The Rune Priest was relaxed, especially now that they were back together again. Firenze removed his helmet, breathing in the freezing air as it howled around the motley squad of Guardsmen and Space Wolves. The smell reminded him of Fenris a little, yet laden with pollutants. He turned to Warhorse as they trudged on through the thick snow.

‘Which regiment is this even? Seriously I want to know,’ said Firenze.

‘Did you not read the briefing slate?’ replied Warhorse.

Firenze grinned sheepishly. ‘No, I fell asleep as Ragnarok droned on. I only woke up at the end as Vassakov hit me in the ribs.’

Mikal laughed heavily. ‘Typical of you to sleep through the only briefing we’re getting’.

Decoy joined in the jesting at the Iron Priest. ‘He’s probably been at the ale again. It’s like him.’

Firenze smiled. ‘Whatever you say brother.’

 

The group reached the walls of the outpost, the Guardsmen tired and frozen while the Wolves wondered what the fuss was about. The sentry on the guard tower looked down at the group at the gates.

‘Designation?’ he called down to them.

‘Alpha twelve!’ called back Feron.

‘Accepted! Come on through!’ the guard called down, waving them through the slowly opening plasteel gates. The pack and squad moved on through, Mikal and Irlin leading the way, probing the minds of the Guardsmen milling around the base. As the pack followed the squad of Guardsmen to the command building, others stopped and stared at them, whispering and looking upon them with awe.

 

‘Here you my lord, Colonel Tobias Ulisan is inside waiting for you,’ said Feron as they reached the bunker.

Tobias…, thought Ragnarok. That name is familiar…

The pack walked into the briefing chamber, the regiment’s colonel talking quietly to a medic to his left. The man stood up as they walked through the bulkhead.

‘My lord, welcome to CR12, the home base for this campaign to the 3rd Reiklanders,’ said Tobias.

Ragnarok bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘Thank you for the warm welcome Colonel. My name is Lord Ragnarok. I hope-‘

‘Toby?’ interrupted Bjoern.

A look of shook and amazement had passed over the Colonel and the medic.

‘No… It can’t be…’ murmured Warhorse, grinning slightly to himself.

‘I think it is. Tobias, over sixty years ago, do you remember your planet attacked?’ said Irlin.

‘Erm, yes. Your chapter saved me and my sist-… No… It is you isn’t it!’ said Tobias, walking over to the marines. ‘You are the squad who saved me and the other children from the enemy and the Commissar.’

The pack began to smile as the medic at the end of the table got up and walked over to them.

‘This is my sister Jenna, my chief medic.’

Firenze beamed. ‘Throne this is awkward! It is great to see you both still alive! I had wondered where you had got to!’

The Iron Priest grabbed the colonel in a crushing hug, dropping him back down a little flustered.

‘Thank you Firenze. Don’t do that again please,’ said Tobias, still beaming at the squad. ‘Well now we have all been reacquainted, what shall we say to you getting to tell me wh-‘

 

Tobias was interrupted as the bunker shook heavily, throwing them all to the floor.

‘What the hell is that?!!’ shouted Jonas over the massive roar of the base’s artillery beginning to return fire.

Jenna got to her feet shakily. ‘The traitors have returned in force!! We’re under attack!!’

  • 2 weeks later...

HELLO FROM CALGARY AIRPORT!!!

 

Im stuck at the terminal a day after we were meant to fly as Britain cannot seem to cope with a light sprinkling of snow. But there is free WiFi so here is the next instalment of Tales From the Fang.

 

Chapter 6

 

The pack ran straight through the door of the command bunker, each going their separate directions to their preferred methods of fighting. Tobias grabbed Rag’s arm.

‘You can’t go out there! Its suicide!’ he shouted, his face a picture of terror.

Ragnarok turned to face him, halting at the door.

‘Tobias, I shall be fine, you look after Jenna,’ he said calmly. Tobias went to speak once more but Ragnarok cut him off.

‘I’ll be safe,’ patting his heavy Terminator armour. He placed his helmet over his head, the seals locking with a hiss of pneumatics. He turned and sprinted out of the bunkers door and into the firestorm outside.

 

Warhorse was down at the frontline, opening fire with his heavy multi-melta, the high intensity beam slicing through the oncoming enemy, vaporising the Chaos men to a cinder. Jonas stood beside him, pistol in one hand and bolter in the other, the young Wolf blitzing the traitor troopers with high explosive rounds. The Grey Hunter laughed heartily as he blazed away. Vassakov slid into cover next to Warhorse, the heavy Terminator armour smashing into the wall like a wrecking ball, the wall somehow still standing. Warhorse ducked down as another volley of las fire came towards the space his head had occupied moments before.

‘Vassakov, where are the others?’ asked Warhorse.

Vassakov shook his head. ‘No idea, but I spied armour incoming.’

As to reply to the statement, tank rounds began wicking through the air nearby, exploding in the midst of the guardsmen running up to return fire. In response to this, the Imperial armour moved up, Leman Russ MBTs trundling over the uneven terrain, the recoil of their cannons knocking the supporting infantry to their knees.

 

Irlin and Mikal stood their ground as the fire whipped past them, the occasional round splashing off of the psychic shields they had erected around themselves, their fingers shooting off spears of lightning that leapt from man to man as they hit each time. The ground started to rumble, slightly at first, and then grew in intensity. The two Rune Priests looked at each other worried, at then saw it…

 

300 tonnes of pure armoured fury, emblazoned with the symbol of the Chaos powers. The enemy Baneblade fired, the super caliber round tearing asunder one of the MBTs that was pressing forwards. The super heavy vehicle re-aimed, firing again and taking out another of the Imperial tanks. Irlin and Mikal fled to cover.

‘Irlin to squad!!! They have a super heavy!!1 I repeat, a super heavy!!!’ Irlin roared into his vox.

‘So do we,’ said Firenze.

A bar of searing blue energy, the thickness of Irlin himself hit the Baneblade square in the front of the tank, spearing through the tank and out the other side, blowing it apart in a white hot ball of fire. Irlin turned to look at the source, seeing another vehicle of the same size, mounting a massive hull mounted volcano cannon. The symbol of the guard regiment had been sprayed over hastily with a wolf’s head logo.

‘Wha-What?’ stammered Mikal.

Firenze popped his head out of the hatch, Schertenleib doing the same out of the driver’s hatch.

‘Look what we found!!!’ shouted out Schert.

  • 5 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...

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