More Tales from the Fang

[Forté]

Hopefully I will get the tale of Hendrick's mustache up shortly.

Will this help get it done faster? *slides ove some ale and meat* ^_^

*grabs it quickly*

 

You can have it once its done. Call it motivation.

[hendrik]

Hopefully I will get the tale of Hendrick's mustache up shortly.

why do i get a sudden fear it'll get burned off ^_^

 

already looking forward top it!

 

the story! not the burning of my mustache you damn pups so put down that flamer!

[Forté]

*major look of disappointment as he lowers the flamer*

[Donutzot]

*major look of disappointment as he lowers the flamer*

up dude up your in front of hendrik put your guts where your mouth is

[Warhorse47]

"I'm going to thrash that pup of Vassakov's." muttered Hendrick as the other Hunters hid their smiles behind their mugs or the smoke of the cigars from the box in front of them. "You do realize that if you'd kept your helm on, your pretty braided 'stache wouldn't have been blowing around, right? And besides, why would you take your helm off while we were clearing a hulk?" asked Beef. "And if that 'claw wasn't such a good shot, that Necron Flayer would have taken off more than just that side of it? Have a cigar and relax, it will grow back......eventually." "I don't want a cigar right now, I want his furry butt." "Well, you may need to wait a while," Ragnarok spoke up, reaching for another cigar, "the Dark angels just showed up, so we have an Honor duel to bet on." This brought quick smiles from everyone as the packs headed over to the landing site.

 

Arriving at the pad, Hendrick actually growled when he saw the Bloodclaw start in his direction. Vassakov roughly grabbed the pup shoving him back into the boisterous pack, a couple of whom were laughing and enjoying the sight of Hendrick's once spectacular mustache, the right side of which was now even with his chin, while the left side's braid hund several inches longer. Ordered to quiet by their Lord, the wolves now watched the Angels file out. The contrast between the pomp of the Angels and the furs and teeth of the Wolves drew a great deal of attention from all over the spaceport. A vid crew from a local news station even showed up. The Librarian of the DA and Priest Max met and set the rules, then the Priest set his Chooser loose. It headed without hesitation for Hendrick's irritant! As the chosen pair removed their armor, it became clear that it would be a fight between speed and toughness. The DA warrior moving like a cobra compared to the heavier, slower Wolf. And that is how the battle went, the Angel landing 3 or 4 punches to every blow the wolf could land against the blazingly fast Scout. Dusk fell becoming dark of midnight and the two kept fighting. Blood that splattered from the fighters showed black as ink in the moonlight. The sky lightened as they continued on, even the reporter running out of words as the two stayed at it, neither willing to yield the honor of their chapter. Warriors from both sides now swapped jokes, and acknowledging the courage of both. All were amazed that the Bloodclaw still stood as his opponent was obviously ready to drop from the effort he had shed pounding on an unyielding opponent. "Just too dumb and tough to quit." was Kieran's comment. "He is a Wolf, he won't quit." was Hendrick's quiet answer. Finally, the weary Angel slipped on some spilt blood and went down, allowing the Claw to jump on top of him. Now that his opponent could not dance away, he began to pound on him as the Scout now grabbed him in a choke hold.

 

The young claw woke up with a start. Propped against a Land Speeder he looked over trying to focus his eyes and realizing that he was looking up at a Gray Hunter with half a mustache. "Easy Pup, you've earned your rest." "But I lost the Honor Duel, I failed my Company and Chapter." "You didn't lose, you both collapsed together, almost eighteen hours of proud battle that honored both Chapters. And I won a bet with a veteran Angel that made it all worthwhile." he replied with a gleam in his eye. Holding up an ancient helm, Hendrick continued, "He bet me you wouldn't last a half hour." He then stood up and tossed a "beakie" helm to the youngster and continued "Try not to bust that one, allright 'Horse?" As he turned to leave, the pup asked him, "Hey, did you get those cigars i sent over to apologize for frying your mustache?"

[Jonas Stromclaw]

A worthy addition to the sagas!

[Forté]

Definitely worth the wait.

 

You can have the elk and ale back now.

[hendrik]

my moustache! my beautifull moustache! damn you whelp!*waves his cane around!*

[Arez]

Good story.Hendrik want me to shorten the otherside?*lifts up a flamer* :D

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Just a little something until Warhorse takes back over. I'll follow it up soon.

 

 

 

Wicked laughter and maniacal screams filtered through the smog choked air of the capitol city as the monsters chased their quarry through the night. Small, lithe creatures, cloaked in black armor decorated with cruel spikes, wielding weapons of fiendish ingenuity, this race of marauders was known throughout the galaxy by a wide variety of names. Dusk wraiths, sidhe, the drinkers of souls. But most often they were referred to as the dark eldar by the Imperium, and it was a warrior of the Imperium they hunted tonight.

 

Dracon Al’treath smiled as he presided over the hunt. The sweeps through the deserted streets had become dull, and he enjoyed the chase, as did his subordinates. Most of them had descended from their twin Raiders to pursue on foot, and Al’treath was content to let them have their fun. The prey was one of the Imperium’s gene bulked super soldiers, a particularly feral breed that had arrived after the start of the harvest here. They had made the Kabal’s push into the rest of the continent difficult, but the Astartes themselves were desirable captures, worth ten of the lesser humans in the flesh markets of Commorragh. It was this more than anything that made Al’treath savor the hunt, the thought of the award in store for this catch.

 

The target made a sudden turn down an alley, one that Al’treath knew to be a dead end. He laughed and ordered his troops in. ‘You’re mine now, fool,’ he thought.

 

The Raiders blocked of the exit and Al’treath descended to join his warriors. The quarry had come to a stop at the high stone wall impeding his progress, then turned and faced the approaching xenos, axe in hand. Al’treath laughed again and said in broken Gothic. “Please fight. You do not run away well, make for poor hunt. Maybe you make up for it with fighting? Too bad there only one of you.”

 

To his surprise, the prey creature grinned, showing off its fangs. “A wolf never hunts alone, scum. York!”

 

Suddenly Al’treath collapsed under a massive weight. Claws dug into his shoulders and his weapons went flying. His face was pressed into the dirt and all he could hear was a low growl in his ears. Bolter fire filled the air.

 

 

Jonas Stormclaw launched himself over xenos leader, who was now trapped under a very angry Fenrisian wolf. The Grey Hunter cannoned into the first of the Kabalite warriors, smashing the alien to the ground then beheading it. On the roof tops of the nearby buildings both Maverik’s and Warhorse’s packs made their presence known, firing down into the confused enemy. At the mouth of the alley way Forte and some of his fellow bloodclaws leapt onto the raiders, killing their crews and planting krak charges in the key systems. Skadi, Arez, and the rest assaulted the rear of the xenos force, slaying with chainsword and bolt pistol. It was over in moments.

 

“Up York.” The growling mass removed itself from Al’treath’s back. He rolled over, only to find himself pinned once more by a massive power armored boot. His chest plate creaked under the weight.

 

“All ready for interrogation boss.” Jonas said into the vox. A shape strode out of the marines checking the xenos dead and approached the dracon. His wargear carved with runes of power, his axe glowing with an eldritch light, Rune Priest Irlin made for a terrifying sight in the gloom of the city. He leveled his axe at dark eldar and asked, “Where is the webway portal anchored?”

 

Al’treath spat. “Go to hell, witch.” A boot descended, breaking the dracon’s knee. He screamed.

 

“No, I don’t think I shall. You, however, maybe going there sooner than you’d like.” The Grey Mage leaned in close to the xenos. “I know pain does not mean much to your kind. Some of you even enjoy it. But death is another matter. I know the hunger that waits for you, the beast that thirsts for your soul. Tell me what I want to know, and I will let you escape Her clutches for a little longer.”

 

Al’treath seemed to consider this for a moment, but there was never any real doubt as to what he would do. Betrayal is the dark eldar’s favorite past time, after all.

 

“Southern quadrant of this city, in the old vehicle manufactorum.” He smiled, a grotesque sight on the scarred face. “But you will never get close: it is guarded by the finest warriors the Kabal of Eternal Discord can muster, concealed by technologies your puny minds couldn’t even begin to grasp-“

 

His monologue was ended by the sweep of Irlin’s rune axe. As he watched the head bounce down the alley, the Rune Priest uttered just two words.

 

“Challenge accepted.”

[hendrik]

“Challenge accepted.”

it's gonna be legen- wait for it-dary! :D

 

thinking this further through i see plenty of HIMYM posibilities forn our future stories!

like: lord rags to us in the tavern "power-armor-suit up!"

[Forté]

So that's what krak grenades are for. Although they do make tricky kegs easier to open too ^_^

 

Dibs on the biggest beast we find when we get there. I have a few tablets to ram down its throat.

[Ace Debonair]

I've just re-read this entire thread, from start to finish.

 

Speaking as an outsider; this thread is bloody brilliant. ^_^

[Forté]

I've just re-read this entire thread, from start to finish.

 

Speaking as an outsider; this thread is bloody brilliant. :tu:

Even as a non-outsider...your statement is spot on.

 

We have some brilliant storytellers here in the Fang. Check Brother Ramses latest addition to the Inglorious Brawlers thread for more examples. Then come back and badger Jonas for the next installment ;)

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Already clamoring for more Forte? You never did have much patience, no wonder the wolf scouts wouldnt take you ;)

 

Just this once, I'll break a lifetime of habitual procrastination and have the next part up tomorrow, if not sooner.

[hendrik]

no wonder the wolf scouts wouldnt take you ;)

i think it had more to do with his aim! after accidently hitting lord rags in the rear with his pistol i don't think he'll get anything with more dakka soon :P

[Forté]

Already clamoring for more Forte? You never did have much patience, no wonder the wolf scouts wouldnt take you ;)

 

Just this once, I'll break a lifetime of habitual procrastination and have the next part up tomorrow, if not sooner.

Take it as a compliment. I just enjoy reading the tales people put up on here.

 

And as for the scouts...they can't keep up with me and I couldn't be bothered sneaking for that long when I could be charging :P

[Warhorse47]

Excellent! I am having to agree with Forte in eagerly awaiting the next.

[commander alexander]

Excellent read Warhorse! I can't believe I've been gone so long that I missed this whole part of the story. Keep it up. I tried writing my own story a while ago, but could never match your skill at it. Could you possibly include me, Járngrímr? Pretty please. (I'm a tinkerer and a joker. I make a stout mead too ;) )

[Jonas Stromclaw]

commander alexander, you have your wish. Though you may regret it :(

 

Oh, and I made my deadline. Isn't that something?

 

 

 

 

Maverik stared at the target, lost for words. “It’s… its so…”

 

“Empty,” supplied Vassakov. After a day spent infiltrating the occupied city, eliminating or evading enemy patrols as needed, the three packs had converged on the target building. But the manufactorum in question was uninhabited, standing quiet and dark, devoid of life. The wolfgard Decoy shook his head.

 

“Remember who we’re dealing with lads. The technology these scum employ borders on sorcery, and they can fool you two into thinking they aren’t here.”

 

Maverik glanced wryly at the warrior “You, on the other hand, aren’t fooled at all? You think they’re here?”

 

“Its plain that they are. Look at the bodies on the street.”

 

Maverik and Vassakov saw what Decoy meant. The corpses of felines, rodents, and various other creatures that thrived in human cities littered the ground in front of the manufactorum. “All slain by splinter fire,” muttered Vassakov.

 

Decoy nodded, “I figure the sentries got bored and had some target practice. There must be a field of some kind concealing their presence, making the building look empty. You two stay here and keep a sharp eye out, I’ll report in to the priest.”

 

Silently Decoy crept away from the observation point to where the rest of their packs waited two streets over.

 

 

 

“Some sort of camouflage field, you say?” Irlin querried.

 

“Right. We couldn’t see anything actually inside: the building appears completely empty. But they are there, alright.”

 

The Rune Priest nodded, considering the situation. “We need to overwhelm the field, disrupt it before our assault. Firing blind into it is no option: it could even incorporate a force shield to protect the defenders.” He thought a moment more, then a gleam came to his eye. “Get as much explosives as you can from the packs without compromising their effectiveness and find someone who can hotwire one of these civilian vehicles.”

 

Decoy looked over at the bloodclaws. “I’m sure the last won’t be hard to find.”

 

 

 

A delivery van careened through the city’s streets, slamming into other parked cars and taking out street lamps as it went. Inside, Arez and Jarngrimr, one of the Grey Hunters, held on for dear life as Forte drove. As they hit a rather nasty bump, Forte shouted back at Jarngrimr, “Are you sure you know how to activate that fancy detonator Firenze rigged up?”

 

He replied “Are you sure you know how to drive?”

 

Forte laughed, “Just wait, they haven’t even started shooting at us yet!”

 

 

 

As the van came into view of the manufactorum, splinter cannon and dark lance fire began to rain down. Seeming to appear out of the blank windows, the rounds skipped of the pavement or melted holes in the road surface. Very little of it connected with the van as Forte’s erratic driving paid off. The rest of the wolves laid down covering fire, and the camo shield began to waver and haze in a few places. The fire on the demo team lessened as the dark eldar sentries tried to deal with the new threats.

 

Bulldozing a propaganda stand and a lamp post, Forte slammed the van into the camo shield, which was now crackling with the punishment being inflicted upon it. He and Greenhorn crouched behind the van keeping watch as Jarngrimr fiddled with the complex detonator wired to clusters of melta bombs, grenades, and plastic explosives.

 

“Any day now, long tooth!”Greenhorn shouted.

 

“Just a minute youngster, have patience!”

 

A squad of Kabalite warriors appeared as if out of thin air beside the van and opened fire. “A minute we don’t have!” yelled Forte as he and his fellow bloodclaw hurled themselves at the interlopers.

 

 

 

 

Irlin frowned as he hurled another spear of psychic lightning at the camo shield. “Warhorse, get some more fire on the area around the van; I don’t want anymore of them sallying out.” The pack leader nodded and began shouting at his troops. “What is taking so long?” Irlin muttered to himself.

 

 

 

“Lets see, the last sequence, was it red-green-red or red-green-green?” Jarngrimr muttered to himself as he placed the leads.

 

“And he’s supposed to be the demolitions expert?” Greenhorn shouted as he ducked another decapitating blow. A group of wyches had followed the kabalite warriors, and they were not as willing to die. Arez had lost his helm, a long cut up the side of his face attesting to the blow that had knocked it off and Forte had several shards from a hydra gauntlet sticking out of his thigh. As the bloodclaws cut down the last wych together, they saw a grey armored shape come flying by.

 

“I wouldn’t want to stand around here much longer lads.” Jarngrimr shouted over his shoulder. The whelps were quick to follow, but after a few seconds a massive shock wave lifted all three of them into the air like so many ragdolls.

 

 

 

The explosion rent the dark eldar shield into nothing and collapsed the near wall of the manufactorum. Dark eldar were tossed from their perches and crushed in the rubble. The buildings across the street where the wolves sheltered took some superficial damage, but nothing that prevented the Sons of Russ from charging into the expanding cloud of dust. They swept over the piled wreckage and into a storm of hostile fire.

 

The xenos had not been idle while the marines battered on their outer defenses. Over a hundred warriors were assembled within the cavernous structure, along with several Raiders and a trio of Ravagers. Groups of Wracks were still coming through the webway portal and hulking Grotesques stood out amongst the throng. The screams and laughter of the alien horde were met by the howls and oaths of the Space Wolves, and battle was joined.

 

Warhorse’s pack and the bloodclaws tore into the enemy infantry, engaging at close quarters to prevent the enemy’s superior fire power from being put to use. Maverik’s lads hunkered down in the rubble and began putting rounds on the hostile vehicles. The Rune Priest waded in to a group of wyches, hacking left and right with practiced ease as he activated his vox.

 

“Asaheim, this is Tempest. Primary target located, homing beacon activated. Send the package.”

 

“Asaheim copies, Tempest. Lock on acquired, package on the way. Praise Russ.”

 

With a hard bang of overpressure, the sound of too much matter being forced into an already occupied space, five hulking shapes appeared in the midst of the horde. Wolf Guard in terminator armor, accompanying their Wolf Lord. Ragnarok, commander of the Great Company, beheaded a Grotesque with his first stroke.

 

“Into them brothers, for Russ and the Allfather!”

 

An answering howl filled the air, and the Sons of Russ threw themselves at the foe with even greater ferocity. Jonas and Schertenlieb fought side by side, ripping apart wyches as the former’s Fenrisian wolf, York, tore the throat from the Hekatrix. Hendrik mowed down kabalite warriors as Jester clambered onto a Raider and slaughtered the crew. Rikochet, Tsavong, and Wreck worked together to bring down a gene bred monster as Skadi led the other Blood Claws on a charge into the ranks of Wracks. Volsung distinguished himself by separating the Haemonculus from his head. The battle quickly turned into a route, and not a single xenos was left standing at the end.

 

Volsung grinned, hanging his newly acquired trophy from his belt. Postal came over, nursing a long cut along his left bicep. “Pleased with yourself, are you?”

 

Volsung nodded, then looked around. “Aren’t we missing someone?”

 

 

 

Outside, under the pile of rubble from the collapsed manufactorum wall, three very dusty figures in power armor dug themselves out of the wreckage, helping each other like a trio of drunks stumbling home. Once Greenhorn was freed, Forte sat down, gasping for breath. He looked over at Jarngrimr.

 

“Next time, I lay the explosives.”

 

“Next time, I drive.” The Grey Hunter rasped back.

[Warhorse47]

Well done! Great tale Jonas!

[commander alexander]

Yes.... I will drive next time.

 

haha, it was great, thank you very much!

[postal105]

nice and i now am going to have another scar to add to the collection

[Arez]

Nice tale,whens the next one comeing? :)

 

To settle the debate,I'll drive and set the explosives next time

[commander alexander]

Awww, but I'm a good driver. Well at least let me make a few.... Upgrades. Turbo? Emergency Wolfwhizz injection system?