The Descent, A Abaddon the Despoiler short story

[Lord Draco]

Hey. This is a small piece of work i have been writing. If people like it, I might begin to expand it into a short story. It’s about Abaddon who, in my mind, is the ultimate badass in 40k.

 

 

The throne room was permanently cast in grim twilight, even the lamps on the wall seamed to irradiate more shadow than actual light. Heavy steel doors covered in unholy runes that shone like lava, barred all access to the room and each door was flanked by two giant Terminators, standing as still as the floor beneath their armoured feet. Others of their squad were scatted around the room, each strategically place to best defend their master. Opposite these doors was the viewing window, but even the dim light of the planet below could not penetrate this fortress of shadow. A throne of skulls was set into the raised platform in front of the window, so all the damned souls who were allowed access to this dark place were below the feet of the ship’s master.

 

His armoured form sat in this throne, his Talon playing with the skull of an Ultramarine captain who dared challenge him to combat. The sword at his side had soon ended the fool’s life and it stirred as it sense its master amusement. Casually, the Despoiler of worlds crushed the skull between his fingers. Abaddon sat back and closed his eyes. The battle against the Ultramarines was clear in his mind, as were the hundreds of thousands of battles Abaddon had fought. He remembered every bullet, ever face, ever moment of bloodshed that stretch along the years. From opening the Warp portal on Vilius Coronis and the battle of Cadia to standing with Horus as Terra burned beneath them. The faces came back in a flood of memory. Commissar Dalric, Fellfly the Unholy, Lord Commander Farren, Captain Koren, Loken, so many faces of foes fought and killed. As the Warmaster reminisced, the doors swung open and a slave entered. Its eyes had long been torn out so it may never look upon his form; it’s back bloodied and scared under the countless lashes of whips. It came forward and grovelled at the foot of the platform. Abaddon opened his eyes and looked at the wretch, who seemed to shrink further under his gaze.

 

‘Speak.’ He commanded, never asked.

 

‘ M..my Lord. A m...m...message from the s...surface. Lord Mulgroth, slayer of thousands, blight of...’

 

‘I know of my servant. He does not need to remind me of his boastfulness. Now, wretch, what does the worm want.’

 

‘T..th...the capital city has been taken Lord. The servants of the corpse-god have been defeated in your name’ replied the slave, its head never rising from the floor.

 

‘As it should be’ The Warmaster’s eyes closed again at the news of another battle won, the sword at his side growled.

 

‘My Lord... if it pleases you... there is more.’ Abaddon look at the form on the floor, curiosity on his face.

 

‘Speak.’

 

‘Lord Mulgroth... he asks for reinforcement.’

 

‘Reinforcement ?!’ The Arch-fiend stood at the word, curiosity replaced by pure anger. The slave sense the changed the sense of his mood and seemed to shrink more into the floor.

 

‘The humans.... they have been reinforced... ship’s have entered from the warp on the other side of the p...p...planet. They have d...destroyed our ships there and... and..and made planetfall. They attack the capital as... we s..sp..speak, my Lord.’

 

‘What ship?’ Abaddon growled.

 

‘Ships bearing the mark of the Dark Angles, my...’ Before the slave could finish, Abaddon had crossed the gap between them. The Talon flashed out, carving the slave in two. Blood streaked over the floor and the sword roared with bloodlust. Abaddon stood in the gore, blood dripping from his armour. His rage slowly subsided, like a wave on the shore. As he calmed himself, a Terminator came forward.

 

‘Your will, Warmaster?’

 

Abaddon stood at his full height and turned. He walked back up the steeps to his throne. He stopped in front of the viewing window. In that brief moment, Abaddon mind turned back the years. He saw Horus next to him, Istvaan III below.

 

‘Let the galaxy burn’ the Warmaster had said and, from that day since, Abaddon had made sure it did.

 

‘I descend.’

[Chapter Master Dave]

that was very nice :lol: more please

[Roguemarine]

i like that beginning, keep it up, just a few spelling errors, but work in progress means WIP...keep it up and can't wait for the next installment.

[antique_nova]

very nice, good flow. can't fault you there except. it's all total frakking rubbish. the whole lot i mean who writes such a short story! it's frakking taking the mick!

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;)Joking. too short, nothing else ^^.

 

thanks

antique_nova

[Lord Draco]

Roguemarine

Blame word spellchecker :)

 

antique_nova

Lol thanks :P it's only a small part of a story hence why it's not long

 

Thanks guys, I'll get working on the next bit. Think i'll do it from a Dark Angel POV for the next part.

[Lord Draco]

Part 2, The Dark Angels

 

Isaiah jumped behind the wall as bullets bounced and ricocheted around him. The rest of his command squad were moments behind their Captain, each diving into cover seconds after Isaiah. The sky above was red in the dawn light and, in times of peace, would have been filled with birdsong. The street where they crouched would have been full of people, buying and selling, coming and going. Now the people were dead, the birds silent and this proud city, once so full of life, lay in ruins. As is all that is touched by Chaos, thought the Captain.

 

Isaiah took the moments breath to check on his men. Most of them carried minor injuries. Palvius, his banner bearer, had a large bullet hole, caused by a enemy bolter round, in his side and yet he still defiantly held the banner of his company in one hand, shouting curses at the enemy. Vigidus, the veteran and Isaiah’s right hand man, spoke into the vox trying to organise his scattered men after the Captain had been force to discard his helmet.

 

Soon after planetfall, the Dark Angels had set up a base of command just east of the main city, supported by the remnants of the PDF and Imperial Guard regiments defending the planet. Since then they had constantly attacked the outskirts of the Chaos defences, propping for a weakness. The position were the convoy had assaulted was supposed to be deserted, but it had turned into a death trap when Chaos troops had appeared from sewers and buildings to slaughter Isaiah’s men. Enemy heavy weapons had destroyed or disabled most of the Rhinos transporting the Space Marines and the warriors of the Lion had been forced to disembark and find what cover they could. The Captain scowled as he remembered the brave men of the Dark Angles who had died today.

 

‘Sir! Squad Redemption and Furious have taken heavy losses’ shouted Vigidus, coming to Isaiah’s side.

 

‘Damn their eyes! Chaos filth! You will rot in hell with a spike up your...!’ Isaiah cut out the rest of Palvius’ insult and forced himself to focus. With just a glance over the wall, he took in the enemy position. Black armoured marines held the end of the road, filling the narrow street with bolter fire. Chaos Havocs fired downwards from rooftops with heavy bolters and missile launchers. Any Space Marine that caught in the open was as good as dead.

 

‘Sir, orbital scans have reported the Chaos battle barge above us. Drop ships inbound! Our ships are moving to intercept but it will be long gone before they get there.’ Isaiah looked over the wall again.

 

‘Traitor reinforcements?’ he replied. This is hopeless, he thought to himself, we must get out of here.

 

‘Sound the retreat, Vigidus. We will return here with the full might of the Dark Angels and crush these traitors!’

 

 

More of Abaddon on the way :) all CandC welcome

[antique_nova]

some things to consider. a nasty wound on his side? a marine would be more specific and probably joke about a scar or something heroic. Marines would insult the tratiors honour, pre-heresy trust and talk about how chaoctic and unorganised are. something relating to warfare not their mothers.....lol

thanks

antique_nova

[Lord Draco]

made a few changes to part 2. The next part is nearly done so more Abaddon action on the way

[Roguemarine]

nice installment here...you are so close to make us feel like we are in the battle with the marines, thats what you should strive for, make the reader see, smell, and even taste the battle raging around the marines. You can do it. :lol:

[Lord Draco]

Part 3, The Black Legion goes to war

 

The Despoiler stalked down the dark corridor towards the teleportation room, flanked on all sides by his Terminator body guard. In years past they were the elite of Horus himself but now, as they had once knelt at Lupercal’s feet, they knelt only at Abaddon’s. Over thousands of worlds and threw thousands of battles they had fought for their Warmaster. They had been at Abaddon side at the start of the Long War and, each hoped, they would be there at the end. For life or death, they were his.

 

‘My Lord?’ crackled Abaddon’s vox.

 

‘What is it, Ungreth?’ The ships captain was one of a few who had access to the Warmaster’s privet vox channel.

 

‘The transports have launched, my Lord. They estimate to land in T minus 3 minutes. The Black Legion goes to war at your command, Warmaster.’

 

‘Very good,’ replied the Despoiler ‘tell your crew I am pleased. What of the Imperial fleet?’

 

‘They dare to move against you, Lord, but the barge will retreat before they arrive.’

 

‘Retreat, Ungreth? You make it sound as if we’re running’ growled Abaddon.

 

‘I... I mean... strategic withdrawal, Lord.’ Ungreth failed to hide the terror in his voice at the thought of displeasing the Warmaster. Abaddon smiled.

 

‘Good. Send word to my fleet. Have them make with all haste to the system. Bring me death, Ungreth.’

 

‘Your will, Warmaster.’ The vox went quite. Ahead of them was access corridor to the teleport room. Abaddon spied his sorcerer, Yangerathi, waiting for him by the heavy blast doors. Four Terminators moved ahead from the Warmaster’s retinue, forming a ring around the sorcerer. Two hulking brutes stood on each flank of Yangerathi ready to defend the Despoiler against any assault from the witch. The two closest to the blast door crossed blades, placing further pressure on the sorcerer and instantly making the atmosphere as deadly as it was hostile.

 

‘Warmaster.’ He knelt before the Despoiler, head bowed. The Chaos Sorcerer’s black armour was covered in runes, pieces of parchment and talismans. In one hand he held a long staff topped by the symbol of the legion, the eye of Horus. His helmet was in the shape of a snarling daemon and his eye sits glowed with the power of the Warp. Drach’nyen growled, sharing its Lord’s disgust of the witch. His hatred of psykers was not unknown and the Warmaster fought the urge to lash out at his pet. Yangerathi seemed to sense this and bowled lower. Abaddon nodded, motioning for the sorcerer to rise. He did but was still dwarfed by the Warmaster’s armoured bulk. The Despoiler continued through the doors and down the corridor, the sorcerer falling into step beside the bodyguard closest to Abaddon. No one was aloud near the Warmaster but his Chosen.

 

‘What news?’

 

‘My Lord, my acolytes are already planet side. Once we arrive we can begin the ritual as soon as we have the artefact. Chaos will devour their souls my Lord.’ Abaddon nodded. They arrived at another set of doors and entered the teleport chamber. The smell of oil, sulphur and blood played on his senses. Cables and wires crisscrossed around the teleport dais, slaves and crew members working tirelessly at different control panels. A permanent red glow lit the room. Dark Mechanicum Adepts oversaw the work as they prepared the ancient machine for use, endlessly tinkering and improving. One of their number came forward.

 

‘Warmaster’ it hissed through the vox implant at it throat, and knelt.

 

‘Are you ready?’

 

‘Yes, my Lord. Only the sacrifice is needed, to please the machine spirit.’

 

‘Then do it’ snapped Abaddon. The Adept bowed lower then stood, gesturing at another of its kind. The second Adept nodded and grabbed a slave. It screamed and yelled as the Adept dragged it towards the dais. The other slaves didn’t even look up.

 

‘My Lord,’ asked the first Adept, after the human was put in position in the centre of the dais, ‘will you do us the honour?’ The Warmaster nodded, and walked over to the struggling slave. The Tech-priest had clamped an iron hand over its mouth to stop the screams. Abaddon slowly caressed its cheek with one long claw of the Talon, seeing the fear in its eyes, before slowly slitting its throat. The slave convulsed and then went still, blooded dripping onto the dais.

 

‘All is ready now, my Lord.’

 

‘Good,’ replied the Despoiler ‘Positions!’ At his command the Terminators filed in around him, as did Yangerathi.

 

‘Counting down, my Lord. Teleportation in 10...9...8...’ Abaddon could feel the static charge running over his body.

 

‘7...6...5...’

 

‘Forward, my brothers,’ growled the Despoiler ‘Death to the False Emperor!’

 

‘4...3...2...1. Activate.’ His warriors echoed his cry before, in a flash of light, they disappeared.

[/i]

[antique_nova]

how are you trying to depict abaddon? leader or warrior? because i get more or a warrior feeling than a leader. Also a spelling mistake here.

 

He slave convulsed and then went still, blooded dripping onto the dais.

 

THE slave.

 

Also the sorceror needs more fear, they need to respect the guy too and sound moer confident. as deadly as abaddon may seem, he doesn't hang around with fools half mubling most of the time.

thanks

antique_nova

[Lord Draco]

I think im trying to get a mixture of both leader and warrior.

 

How do u suggest i install the fear of the sorcerer without making it sound like abaddon is scared of him? maby describing that the terminators give him a wide burth? what do you think?

[antique_nova]

i meant the sorceror needs to fear abaddon more. However, abaddon needs to take more notice of his staff and what it can do. He dispices sorcery, he really does. So abaddon and his ret can walk right past the sorceror and the sorceror then falls beside abaddon ( well one of his terminator rets anyway ).

 

So that they end up like this.

A = abaddon

T = Terminator

S = sorceror

 

Back of formation

 

---T

TTTTT

-TATS

-T--T

 

Front of formation

 

This type of formation makes it very tight and bodygaurd like, while showing that abaddon lets no one near him, except his bodyguards. the sorceror is literally being checked behind him and a bodybag between him and abaddon.

 

You could describe that the sorceror falls into the formation and the terminator slows his pace a little so the sorceror can be face to face to abaddon, but they keep their distance, before the sorceror signs off towawrds the ring where abaddon will teleport.

 

hope that helps

 

thanks

antique_nova

[Lord Draco]

edited. what do you think?

[antique_nova]

Yangerathi, waiting for him by the heavy blast doors. One Terminator slowed his pace slighty, so Abaddon could talk with the witch face to face, but was positioned to defend the Despoiler from any hostility shown by Yangerathi.

 

Wait until abaddon walks past him. because the terminator isn't blocking abaddons view to the sorceror yet. the sorceror is meant to fall in wit the retinue formation. but it would be fitting for a chaos lord if his subjects kneeled when they spoke to the lord.

 

Also the sorceror would not be waiting at the doors alone. the teleport room would be flanked by a pair of heavily armed terminators that could be in his ret. Perhaps describe that the excitement of the slaughter made the sorceror twitch.

thanks

antique_nova

[Roguemarine]

i like how this is flowing along, and agree with nova about the disdain abaddon holds for magic. listen to him he's good.

[Lord Draco]

Edited part 3 again. Nearly done the next part as well, just editing a few bits and proof reading it. Hopefully be on soon.

[Lord Draco]

Part 4: Plans within plans

 

He wore black armour, trimmed with gold. On his right pauldrin was a great eye, the symbol of his Legion. The Black Legion. Another eye blazed on his chest, surrounded by trophies from hundreds of worlds. At his hip was an elaborate sword and holstered close by was a slim bolt pistol. The weapons of war. Since betraying his chapter, feeling to the Eye and joining the Legion, they had never left his side.

 

Mulgroth waited in the square, his lieutenants and Chosen standing close by. The square was directly outside the governor’s palace, once the seat of the most powerful man on the planet, who now hung from the statue of a long forgotten hero in his own gardens, his corpse swaying slowly in the breeze. Mulgroth smile at the memory of the Governor, crying and begging for mercy as his wife and children were slaughter in front of his eyes. He was then dragged threw his house and sacrificed, the eye of Horus carved into his chest. The planet had burned under Mulgroth’s iron boot, the victory his and his alone.

 

But then the Guard had rallied under the banner of the newly arrived Dark Angels. His forces had eroded under the ruthless assaults of the loyal Space Marines. Mulgroth was force to swallow his pride and send for reinforcements when his outposts around the city had all been completely wiped out. Now the Despoiler himself was arriving and Mulgroth knew that all his power had slipped away. His hopes of the Warmaster trusting him with the real reason they had attacked this backwater world, instead of the weak excuses that this world held ‘importance’, had gone too. Mulgroth was not a stupid as Abaddon thought. Being the weakest of his Lords, Mulgroth had always been suspicious as to why the Despoiler had chosen him to lead the assault.

 

Plans within plans. The Warmaster always had plans within plans. Static coursed around Mulgroth’s armoured body. A flash of light and stench of sulphur heralded Abaddon’s arrival.

 

‘Mulgroth!’ roared the Warmaster. The huge figure of Mulgroth’s Lord and master appeared in front of the Chaos Lord, surrounded by his hulking bodyguards. At once, all present feel to their knees.

 

‘My Lord’ Mulgroth replied, submissively. Looking up, he saw that the Warmaster had brought his pet sorcerer with him. Now what is that witch doing here, wondered Mulgroth. Abaddon stalked closer to him, looming over Mulgroth. Despite himself, the Chaos Lord shivered.

 

‘What have you done, Mulgroth? I give you the honour of giving me this planet, and you failed!’

 

‘My Lord, we did not anticipate the Dark Angels arrival.’

 

‘A good commander plans for all possibilities’ growled Abaddon ‘You, however, are not a good commander so you are not to blame.’

 

Mulgroth blinked. He had thought his life was to surly end at the hands of the Warmaster. The thought of the Despoiler’s mercy was incomprehensible.

 

‘Unfortunately, you are still useful to me. Now...’ the Warmaster smiled, the common expression twisted by the pure evil that ran through Abaddon’s vains, ‘kiss my boot.’

 

Mulgroth hesitated for a moment, but then fell to the floor and began to lavish Abaddon’s armour foot with kisses, not caring about the humiliation. Abaddon was not known for forgiveness but Mulgroth would do anything to live a moment longer. Even though he commanded armies and destroyed millions of lives, but he was nothing compared to the Despoiler. No matter how powerful, all must bow to the true Warmaster of Chaos. Abaddon sneered at the Chaos Lord at his feet before responding by kicking him hard in the face, lifting Mulgroth of the floor and sprawling him a metre away. Unconsciousness threatened to take Mulgroth, but he forced himself to return to his knees.

 

‘You’re a snivelling fool, Mulgroth, remove yourself from my sight.’ Mulgroth stood and bowed low, before scuttling off to his men.

 

‘Yangerathi’ summoned the Warmaster. The sorcerer moved to the front of Abaddon before speaking.

 

‘Yes, my Lord.’

 

‘See to your ritual and oversee the locater squads. Find me the Artifact.’

 

‘Yes, my Lord.’ The sorcerer bowed low and walked off toward the palace. The Terminators watch every move the witch made, none of them taking their eyes off him. When they were sure the sorcerer was no longer a threat, Abaddon’s second, Brethig came forward.

 

‘Your will, Warmaster?’

 

‘What are our enemy’s movements?’ asked the Despoiler. Seconds ran by as Brethig talked into the vox, addressing squad commanders around the capital. Moments later he raised his head to address Abaddon.

 

‘Reports have come in my Lord. A small enemy force was intercepted in the east but soon routed. Our forces are under assault in the north by enemy troops. Tactical marines supported by Rhino transports.’

 

‘Excellent. Summon a Land Raider. I go to wet my blade.’ Drach’nyen roared its approval.

 

Not greatly happy with this part but i thought id post it anyway. C&C welcome as always

[Sons of Horus]

very nice writing style :tu: :tu: I loved the first chapter especially the ending :lol:

[Lord Draco]

Thank you fellow son of horus ^_^

[antique_nova]

Part 3:

 

One Terminator slowed his pace slighty, so Abaddon could talk with the witch face to face, but was positioned to defend the Despoiler from any hostility shown by Yangerathi.

Cut this part completely, because your not understanding what i am saying and because you have replaced it with another scene.

I would replace the cut out sentence with this.

 

Four terminators then moved from the warmasters retinue into a ring around the sorceror, two on each flank of the sorceror, turned around and saluted abaddon as the two closest to the blast door crossed blades placing further pressure on the witch and instantly making the atmosphere as deadly as it was hostile.

 

This may need a bit or rewording, but i think it works well. it's up to you whether you follow my post or not however, because every author has their own takes. I can provide my opinion, nothing else.

 

Part 4:

Alright. Dirty trick by abaddon. I liked that, also I can’t see anything yet, but I still have the morning buzz.

Who asks what are the enemy movements? It’s not made clear here. Also abaddon would not risk himself in a raider for the DA to find him so easily and target him with thunderhawks etc. DS him from whee he is, because he can teleport anywhere literally, somewhere like 100 – 200 metres from the main fight and let him plan his ambush. You need to show his battlefield experience, well abit of this, towards the end of the chapter. The sword will probably starting cackling or something, like sparkling at this point, because it knows slaughter will come.

 

 

hope it helps!

 

thanks

antique_nova

[Lord Draco]

part 3 edited. as for abaddon in the raider, i think it would be a bit boring if he just teleported around. If it works il add a bit that they cant use the teleporter so again so soon. what do you think

[Lord Draco]

Part 5- Death to the False Emperor

 

 

The Land Raider flew down the access way towards the north of the city. It rumbled over the rubble of felled buildings, passing burnt out transports and Imperial tanks. The dead were everywhere, bright bones glistening in the sunlight. Bones snapped and Skulls buckled under the battle tanks iron tracks as the infernal machine past over them. The Machine spirit growled as it anticipated the battle to come and Abaddon shared its eagerness.

 

Inside the Land Raider the Warmaster sat, along with Brethig and three others of his Chosen. It was dim inside the tank’s holding, the only light was drawn from the computer panels and warning lights fitted to the control panel near the door to the cockpit. The Warmaster was impatient. It had been too long since he had tasted fresh blood, still hot from the fires of battle. Now he lusted for it, his anticipation making each moment seem like hours. With a snarl, Abaddon hit the vox.

 

‘Driver! How long before we reach the enemy?’

 

‘Two minutes My Lord’ replied the driver, his voice made metallic by the machine.

 

‘By the Gods! Make it sooner or your soul is forfeit!’

 

‘Yes, my Lord!’ The Despoiler felt the tank gain speed as the driver pushed it harder and the Machine spirit’s growl turned to a dull roar. Abaddon nodded, satisfied, and turned to his men. He didn’t need to speak, his men already knew his will. They loaded their weapons and readied their blades, obeying his silent command. As if hearing the order as well, sparks stared playing around Drach’nyen slowly. The vox crackled to life.

 

‘Lord, the fools have formed a road block ahead.’

 

‘On screen.’ In an instant the view screen flashed, bringing up a picture from the front of the tank. Sure enough, ahead was three loyalist Rhinos blocking the road. The Warmaster could see the marines behind them reading their weapons with sergeants barking commands. He smiled.

 

‘Ram them.’

 

‘Your will, Warmaster’ came the reply. The Machine spirit let out a thunderous roar and Abaddon joined it, ready for battle. The loyalists had a just a moment to realise what was happening, before the Land Raider rammed the lead Rhino. The plasteel and cermite armour buckled under the brute force of the Chaos tank. It flipped backwards, instantly killing the Dark Angels standing behind it. The Land Raider screeched to a halt as the driver applied the brakes. Bolt shells rattled off the tanks armour, despite their strength unable to puncture its iron hide. The maw of the Land Raider’s rear door opened.

 

‘Death to the False Emperor!’ Abaddon leaped forward from the hatch, the Talon spitting death as he ran. The watched as each cursed bolt found its target, bursts of blood following each hit. Drach’nyen roared as he brought it round, carving the nearest loyalist in two. A muffled cry was the only testament to his death as the daemon sword feasted on his soul. Bolts pattered against his armour much like rain, causing little than Abaddon’s passing notice. He spun on his heel, ducking a blow from a combat knife before burying the Talon in the fool’s chest. A roar of an auto cannon sounded as one of his Chosen let rip with his weapon. The Loyalists ducked into cover, scrambling as the bolts fell all around them. They started to fall back around the Chaos attack. Abaddon hacked at another marine with Drach’nyen, the sword slicing through the Imperial Eagle on his chest. The Warmaster became a whirl wind of death, ripping and tearing with the Talon and the daemon sword. Soon no enemies were left standing, the living falling back in good order.

 

Abaddon shouted to his Chosen and began to give chase, just before the Land Raider exploded. The blast sent the Terminators sprawling on the ground as the Dreadnought walked through the carnage of the devastated Land Raider. The Chosen began to pick themselves up as the ancient loyalist reached them. It lashed out with is armoured fist, sending a Chosen flying into a wall. He hit with bone crunching force and slid down onto the fall before the wall collapse on top of him.

 

‘I am your destroyer, traitor!’ came the automated voice set in the Dreadnoughts armour. Abaddon and the rest of the Chosen opened fire, but the bolts did nothing but perhaps enrage the loyalist. A spout of fire sprang from its weapon attachment, liquid promethium burning blood red as it ignited. Normal men would have died instantly, their flesh melting and burning before their eyes, but these were not normal men. Bethig leapt threw the flames, dodging a lumbering attack and managed to score a glancing hit, knocking the flamer from its holding, before the dreadnought struck him as well. The blow connected with Bethig’s shoulder and sent him spinning.

 

Abaddon growled in frustration. He shifted his weight and charged shoulder first at the Dreadnought. The ancient struck out, but Abaddon ducked low under the attack before impacting with the Dreadnought’s sarcophagus. The force of the blow, combined with the bulk of the Despoilers terminator armour, unbalanced the Dreadnought and it staggered before falling backwards. It landed on its back with a dull thunk. Quicker than the eye could see, Abaddon leapt on top of the ancient loyalist and raised Drach’nyen. He roared in victory as he brought the sword down, tip first, and plunged it into the vision slit of the Dreadnought. The vox screeched for and instant as the daemon fed, before its decades of service were ended. The Warmaster pulled his sword free and leapt down of the hulk. His Chosen had begun to gather around their victorious master. The crushed Terminator had pulled himself free of the wall, dust covering his armour. Bethig’s arm hung limp, but he stood strongly, awaiting the Despoiler’s orders.

 

‘Come,’ Abaddon ordered ‘it’s a long walk back.’

 

I added the bit about the sparking blade into this part. hope you like it :D

[Pulse]

As already stated the wording is a nightmare at times such as, threw instead of through, etc etc.

 

Very well done with the stories, very readable and enjoyable. When Abaddon charges the Dreadnaught, it should have staggered i think, rather than actually falling over, it seemed a little to easy. Apart from that, i look forward to more! ;)

[Lord Draco]

edited :tu: