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Start of short story


nurglespuss

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Hi guys, well featured below is the first part of a short story I knocked up the other night. I'm still working on the setting, and so have a few questions at the end. Thanks all! any comments appreciated ;)

 

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Ceramite scraped on ceramite as Askelan forced his head to turn, his gorget-servos protesting as he sought to look his death in the eye one last time, how had it come to this? A lifetime, longer, spent at war with the Universe, only to have his existence snuffed out by an enemy that did not even know his name. He had been tested, and broken, his faults exposed, to be judged by an Emperor he would never meet. Askelan had always thought that peace would come at this moment, but his soul would know eternal torment. He had failed, and his failure meant the death of them all.

 

As his breath came in short, painful gasps, he tried to move, determined to raise himself one last time. He was an Astartes, the ultimate fighting machine, resilient beyond measure. Living a hundred lifetimes, garbed in the finest armour ever produced and gifted with the most lethal weaponry known to man. He concentrated on rotating his shoulders, but found no sensation; he tried to move his arms, and was rewarded with the agony of realisation. Askelans bloodied, battered torso lay in a pool of blood. His armour ripped open to reveal stumps of meat and tattered flesh already congealing to save his core functions. His rapid healing system and, what remained of his ancient armour, were fighting desperately to keep him alive. Askelan focused his attention once more on the hulking behemoth at the edge of his vision. He could see the remnants of an arm dangling by sinew and servo-bundle from a dripping scissor-like claw.

 

The ground shook, and his tortured frame rolled onto its back, his gaze now focused on the far ceiling, where moments before he had planned his assault. Askelan tried to force his head to move, but either his strength was gone, or his armour had finally given up. The pounding grew closer, a shadow passed by overhead. A great square foot slamming down on what remained of his shoulder, Askelan screamed in agony, as he was sent skittering like some obscene skimming stone across the metal floor, before coming to rest in a slow turn against the far wall. His vision clouded and he felt oblivion call to him. Again his perfect body saved him from death, clotting the blood so quickly he could feel it pinching the meat of his crushed body. Pain-stims flooded his system, as neuro-stims, recognising his precarious balance between life and death prevented him from blacking out. Askelan silently cursed, for the first time in his extended life, after centuries of fighting to stay alive, he finally wanted to die.

 

The great, metallic beast, reared on its wide spaced hips, pulling its arms back, until it looked like a combination of tin-man and dying arachnid. Smoke belched from its rear mounted power-pack, oil and lubricant dripped from various split pipes, connectors and hoses. It tensed, before finally bringing its savage arms crashing towards the bulk-head. The assault was unnecessarily violent, but was typical of the beast’s race. The bulkhead, heavy reinforced steel-plating, nearly three inches thick, was carved open like tissue paper. The impact and its own dead-weight caused it to collapse inward with a resounding clang. The huge machine beat what might have been its chest with its upper arms, showering itself in sparks and arcing power discharge while emitting a metallic “Waaaagh!” before barrelling down the corridor at some speed considering its bulk.

 

Askelan roared in unison with the beast, his impotent rage at his failure and the inhuman state in which he had been left lending power to his lungs, before he choked, coughing blood and sputum over the inside of his re-breather. For long moments his chest heaved, red lights strobed across his vision as he finally became aware of the damage reports his system was still feeding him. His physical status icon sat at the corner of the head-up display, mocking him with its red central zone, and unlit limb sections. Askelans power-pack had also become dislodged during the combat, and he checked is remaining power reserves, less than forty percent, enough in his current state to last for two weeks. His enhanced hearing, and his helmets long range audio could hear the plaintive cries, the screaming, and the mechanical laughing as the unarmed astropathic choir was torn asunder by a merciless killing machine. It felt he had temporarily inherited their precognitive abilities, imagining the surrounding virtually defenceless Agri-worlds and their impending doom. There was now no way to notify the rest of the Imperium, that Gazghkull Thraka had succeeded where no other Ork warlord ever had before. He had united the petty warring Ork factions across the segmentum into the biggest Waaah! Since Armageddon. Unable to turn of the audio-input, Askelan wept until he had no more tears to give, his eyes now fixed on his internal chronometer as he waited to die.

 

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Q1: Should I set this in the last Armageddon War, or, as a the Orks latest invasion?

Q2: If I set it during the last war, do you think the Celestial Lions would be a good choice? Even though they're destiny is already written?

Q3: Would it be better with a non-named Ork warlord?

 

Thanks guys!

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Thats a really good opening and i eagerly want more! ;)

 

Regards to your questions its really up to you, remember Gazghkull left Armageddon, so he could of raised an even bigger Waaaagh by now ;) So it is entirely possible, or why not have a marine chapter of your design going to attack the orks and tryanids battling in the octavius sector? The possibilities are endless my friend.

Very nice, sad to hear SM getting beaten but it happens to the best of us :blush:

as for my opinions of answers:

Q1 part 1: If you set it during the War, I either assume you know alot of fluff about those battles or your are willing to troll the web to find it.

Q1 part 2: As Calgar101 said, Ork invasions happen everywhere, and alot of Space Marine Chapters have ships on partrol when they stumble upon an ork waagh, those patrols are normally just half a company and maybe if its the Crimson Fists just a few squads, so this could be the setting, a valiant defence of a massively outnumbered space marine patrol on some planet forgotten by the Administratum.

Q2: The Celestial lions did take a beating, but not all of them died, 90-93 lived (I forgot the exact number) even without the ability to revive their chapter they are willing to fight to the last to join their brothers. So in my opinion yes, they would be a grea choice because no matter what they would fight the ork instead of find a better position, even if they have a stump arm like aformentioned marine.

Q3: I perfer a name (its just personal), maybe ask some ork players what their warboss's name is and ask them if you could use it in a fan fiction story, I'm sure a few of them would be interested in the idea.

 

Hope any of that helps you, I'm interested in reading what is next.

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