Dread Nought

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Hey guys, I'll be putting up short stories on here for my DIY chapter. C&C please!

 

Alan floated on a sea of pain. It agravated every nerve in his body, washing his consciousness with a torrent of agony. He waited, knowing the enemy was still out there, knowing his brothers would come, knowing that this torture would end soon, one way or another. Another surge of red-hot torment engulfed him, and his world turned black.

 

He awoke again, whether for second time or the twentieth he knew not. By the Primarch, he would not know if he had woken ten thousand times to this pain! His vision was black, his hearing could detect only the beats of his hearts. He listened closely and, after a moment, determined that only one of his hearts was still functioning, the other succumbing to the xenos's bio-acid. He continued his catalogue of his senses. Alan smelled only blood, but not all of it his. This brought a smile to his mind, but the muscles of his face did not respond, or if they did he could not feel it. His sense of touch was overwhelmed by the pain, blocking any other sensation that might have existed. He tried to decide what the taste on his tongue was, but the pain was starting to blur his mind again. He thought it tasted like copper, but couldn't decide what that meant before the agony engulfed him once more.

 

Awareness, or atleast as aware as a bllind and deaf man who feels only pain could be. Alan was getting quite bored of the pain after the time that had past. After all, how long could one feel the raw scraping scream of every nerve in their almost-corpse before they were benumbed by the sensation? No wonder Slaaneshi cultists died happy. Hey, thought Alan, I just had a coherent thought! Or atleast I think I did. Is wondering about the motives of Slaaneshi cultist in their suicidal charges considered coherent or a sign of a deeper problem? The marine considered this for a while before being distracted by another thought. Why am I not dead?

 

The pain was becoming less all consuming and more specific now. Before there had been no difference from one moment to the next, but now Alan could tell which areas were the worst injured. His chest felt like chunks had been gouged out, with a similar wound across his eyes. His left arm and leg were battered and badly cut in places while the right limbs felt nothing. He couldn't decide if this last bit was good or bad. Every still existing patch of skin felt like it was on fire, the after effects of the tyranid bio-acid. Suddenly a new pain stabbed into his left arm and right shoulder, plunging him back into unconsciousness.

 

"Alan." Now Alan did not feel pain beyond a dull ache. He felt cold though, and infinitely tired. "Alan." He wished the voice would go away, he wanted to rest. "Knight-Brother Alan Corby, wake up!" At this Alan snapped his eyes open on reflex. For a moment he wondered why he was seeing things in black and white. Then he realized he could see. He was in a long chamber. On the right was a long row of alcoves, on the left racks of tools, heavy weapons, and amunition belts. He looked down at the voice that addressed him. Two techmarines stood nearby, looking up at him. This confused him, so he asked, "Why am I hanging from the wall?"

 

His voice was a deep baritone growl, blaring from vox speakers to either side of his head. He looked around wildly before the truth struck. "Emperor have mercy..."

 

"Your wounds were beyond our ability to heal brother," said the techpriest. "We had to inter you in a dreadnought to preserve your life." A figure stepped out of the shadows behind the techpriests. Alan was colored blind but still recognized the warrior. Knight-Marshall Travis Reed of the Fourth Crusade fleet, Alan's commander. The marshall leaned in and said, "You were found on the wreck of the Sword-class frigate Swift Arrow, surrounded by the corpes of three score tyranids and your dead squadmates. You and your squad were supposed to be with Knight-Captain Andrews's forces on Trexos." Reed gazed with unflinching eyes at the mangled warrior clinging to life in the sarcophagus.

 

"What happened Alan? What happened at Trexos?"

[Brother Captain Ming]

That's a darn good read so far. I like how you go into how much pain Alan's suffering and how disorienting it is. So, what did happen at Trexos?

[Jonas Stromclaw]

That's a darn good read so far. I like how you go into how much pain Alan's suffering and how disorienting it is. So, what did happen at Trexos?

Thanks mate, good to hear. As for the next part I had already intended to have it up but "real life" has rudely inserted itself in the way, so it may be some time. My apologies for the wait.

[Captain_Roane]

Excellent piece there, I enjoyed how you used not-so-common words in your descriptions, its one thing I enjoy is being able to go over what you said in my mind and have a vivid picture.

Only problem I have is just a personal thing, when someone talks I move it to a new line, makes it easier for me to read instead of the quotation marks in the middle of the paragraph.

But again that is just personal, other than that great piece and can't wait to read more.

[Brother Captain Ming]

Take your time Jonas. I'm tracking the topic, so whenever you do get the chance to update, I'll be reading shortly thereafter. :P

[infyrana]

I'll be tracking this too :D

 

I'm a big fan of dreadnoughts, having not read any novels or other stories on this bar what's in WD and the Index Astartes, I am keen to hear more.

 

This is certainly a good read and I will be very interested in reading any updates!

[KEEPER]

I always wished the BL books would focus more on the Dreadnoughts. Seems for such a valuable part of the chapter they are under appreciated by many authors. I enjoyed it so far! Keeping an eye of this topic.

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Sorry it took me so long lads, here is the next installment!

 

“Do not be alarmed,” stated the techmarine. “I am installing your new sensors package. You will feel some disorientation, but nothing too strenuous. Once I am finished run the course until you have acclimatized to your new senses.”

At the word ‘disorientation’ Alan had stifled a bitter laugh. Everything was disorienting in this new shell of his. Walking became stomping, seeing became scanning, breathing became a rasping gasp. He had grown used to the constant, dull pain that came with this new existence, but he still had not adjusted to his machine senses. His sight and hearing had been dulled to less than that of a normal man and his other senses were nonexistent. It was a trying situation for someone who had once enjoyed the enhanced physiology of the Emperor’s astartes.

 

A sharp pain sliced in at his mind. He barely heard the techmarine’s, “I am finished,” before a roar of information flooded his brain. Air density and content, radiation counts, weaknesses in the armory walls, the number of short circuits the servitor over to his left was suffering. A metallic booming filled his ears. He looked down and realized it was the techmarine tapping his foot, waiting for an answer. Alan laughed, overjoyed that his existence would no longer be so stifled.

 

“My thanks techmarine,” he said. “This is an infinite improvement over before.” The disciple of the Omnissiah nodded and asked.

 

“What training sequence would you like to run through today?”

Alan sighted in on the door at the other end of the armory. Over three hundred yards away and he could pick out which screws the servitor had stripped in installing the hinges.

 

“I think sequence 10CP. I want to try out how effective this sensors package is at tracking multiple targets.” The techmarine nodded and keyed orders into his control pad. Armatures slid out of the alcove where Alan’s dreadnought stood and installed a plasma cannon and close combat arm. On the opposite wall a hatch opened.

 

“Whenever you’re ready.” Without a moment’s pause Alan charged into the training course.

 

Set deep into the crust of Securis below the Swords of Dorn’s fortress monastery, the training course was a massive network of caverns. The one Alan had stepped into was used for urban warfare training. False buildings loomed overhead. Combat servitors and captured greenskins lurked in the shadows. The marines had to get down a mile of mined roadway and booby trapped structures to exit. This is going to be too easy thought Alan.

 

He started forward confidently, his newly enhanced vision picking out where the road surface had been disturbed for mine laying. At the first cross street he met resistance. Four servitors armed with chainfists advanced on him from ground level while two more with missile launchers popped up on top of a building to his left. The Swords of Dorn didn’t do training halfway.

Alan fired his plasma cannon into the building, frying one of the missile servitors and sending the other crashing through three stories before turning and blasting one of the fist servitors with his built in stormbolter. As the man-machine fell his hearing picked up the buzz of one behind him swinging at his reactor cooling system. He spun on his waist and crunched the servitor like a tin can before it could land a blow. The two others came on at the same time, their weapons emitting a murderous buzzing sound. Alan fired his stormbolter again point blank, demolishing the one on his left. For the other he took two steps and kicked out with the dreadnought’s stubby leg. The rim of the splayed claw nearly cut the servitor in half and sent it flying a full block. Alan scanned for more hostiles, but found none. Disappointed he continued on his way.

 

A mile, fifty corpses, and a servitor crewed Leman Russ MBT later Alan was battered, out of ammunition, and absolutely delighted with the destruction he had wreaked. He stepped across the victory line and greeted the techmarine.

 

“Impressive,” the cog-boy observed. “You’re ready for combat operations. Marshall Reed said to tell you the fourth fleet is moving out in two days time. He wants you in the vanguard.”

 

Images flashed in Alan’s head at the mention of Trexos. The governor had told them there was a mutant uprising on the hive world and only a few squads of marines were needed. Alan remembered Knight-Captain Andrews cleaving the governor’s head off when the genestealer hybrid had revealed his true colors. They had cleansed the hive, but it was too late. He remembered the sky turning sickly yellow from the sheer number of mycetic spores. A splinter fleet from Jormungadr had arrived and it was eating its fill on Trexos. Soon it would come here and all the forge worlds of the Aram Cluster would fall. One ship had escaped with the news, but even it had the taint of the xeno upon it. Alan recalled his birth brother, Nathan, who had fallen to a tyranid alpha warrior, the same warrior that had coated Alan in bio acid before he ripped its chest open with his bare hands. One marine had lived through Trexos, if you could call it living.

 

“Two days?” Alan queried. The techmarine nodded.

 

“Then reload me. I’m going back in.” He would keep fighting, keep killing, until he could unleash his vengeance on the Hive Mind. Until Trexos was cleansed, he would keep killing.

[Brother Captain Ming]

That was a very nice read. I'm guessing the servitor stripped 6 screws on those hinges lol. Nice battle sequence! I've often imagined my dreadnoughts doing the same thing on the tabletop.

Oh, that's what happened at Trexos.

I can't wait to read what Alan and the rest of the Swords of Dorn do to those xenos filth. Keep it coming Jonas! :rolleyes:

[Captain_Roane]

I love it, i thoroughly enjoy reading about dreadnaughts, why hasn't BL done this before?

They have a spot dear to my heart, especially after my first tabletop game where even though it got destroyed.

It took out half the necron squad and the necron lord around it allowing my assault marines to chew through the rest.

Have you looked at all the parts that can be added on one? It would be interesting to see it with the bladed close combat weapon and tear into a massive creature or the like, or pound away with an awsome array of ranged weaponry.

 

Good read, will be waiting for the next piece.

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Thanks for the comments guys, and I'll expand on the Trexos incident later.

 

 

Have you looked at all the parts that can be added on one? It would be interesting to see it with the bladed close combat weapon and tear into a massive creature or the like, or pound away with an awsome array of ranged weaponry.

Out of my head psyker! Yep, I'm planning on working Alan through the full range of death dealing nastiness that dreadnoughts normally get plus some toys of my own design :devil:

[infyrana]

Great stuff, keep it going - can't wait for the next installment :P

 

As for the dread weaponry options, is that from an article I've missed or a book resource ?

[Captain_Roane]

The librarium always had intrest in me, =) but the dread weaponry is alot bigger than we normally see. Forgeworld has a great represtetation of all the add-ons. But venerable dreadnaughts, ironclad, and normal ones all have different armor and weapons. Assault cannons, heavy bolters, baal pattern armature, rockets, grenade launchers the list goes on, and thats only the ranged side.

[LardO'Blood]

I love the series so far, hope to see more soon! :) Not enough fiction includes dreadnoughts.

[Storm Hawks Legion]

Ty for writing this, I have to say Dreads are my favorite choice in the lists, that's why they outnumber even my tactical squads on my gun line

will be watching keep it coming

[calgar101]

Really good read so far mate! I eagerly await more chapters :P

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Like a thief in the night the battle barge Vengeance of Tullius slipped through the immaterium. The raw warp seethed and twisted on the other side of its thin Geller field. Even though the daemons were held by the barrier, a veil of unease lay across the souls within. Beasts that hungered beyond the adamantine hull stalked the crew by other means, tainting every blessed hour of sleep with blood soaked nightmare. Deep with the ship’s armory, the newest dreadnought of the Swords of Dorn rested uneasily, and began to dream.

 

Figures in the dark bronze of the Swords surrounded him. They numbered twelve, but Alan knew they should number thirteen. His dead squad mates glared coldly at him. Their wounds took on a pestilential air, gangrenous and rotting. From moldering mouths came catechisms of blame. “You ran. You left us to die. You forsook your oaths. Oathbreaker.” The last echoed in Alan’s ears, but he did not stop looking for the thirteenth figure.

 

“Where is he?” he asked the wraiths desperately, “Where is Nathan?”

 

The ghoul of Brother Matthias, the squad’s close combat champion, pointed with a handless limb. “Where you left him, oathbreaker.”

 

Alan turned and suddenly found himself on the bridge of the Swift Arrow. A corpse rested in the control throne. He approached and the corpse looked up at him. Through cracked lips it asked, “Why did you run brother? Why did you leave us?”

 

Alan fell to his knees and wept for his brother. They had been born a mere ten months apart, as close as twins in size and appearance. Together, they had trained and bled in their father’s keep. Together, they had lied about their ages and fought in the grand melee at the tournament hailing the birth of Prince Edric. Together, they had stood their ground when the bronze giant came out of the reviewing stands and inspected them. Together, they had said yes when he asked if they had wanted to join the Emperor’s own warriors.

 

In his dream Alan was now transported back to that day on the melee field outside Darkester. Instead of a clear day, however, alien spores fell from a nightmare sky. Behind him the city burned and he could hear the screams and cries of his people as they were hunted by xeno beasts. A roar filled his ears and he turned to see a massive tyranid trygon towering over him. He grabbed for his bolter but found it gone. Alan roared in defiance as the beast fell upon him with gnashing teeth and sliding claw. He felt himself crushed under the immense bulk and the world turned black as a new tumult filled his ears…

 

“Oi, laddie, wake ‘oop!” Alan surged forward swinging his close combat claw, still befuddled by the nightmare. A massive thud accompanied by a crash brought him to his senses. Six terminators and an apprentice techmarine stood around him, scrambling to put down the kegs they held and draw weapons. In the far wall of the armory a seventh terminator in the colors of a squad sergeant was extricating himself from a man shaped dent. Oops, thought Alan.

 

“Weel, ah’ guess tha’ taiches meh a thing ‘er two abou’ tryin’ to wake ah dreadnoot!” the sergeant said in the thick accent of a Galles Highlander. This triggered recognition in Alan’s sleepy brain and he winced inwardly.

 

“I’m sorry Sergeant MacTavish, I didn’t mean to...”

 

“Smack meh all way acroos the bloody room?” finished the sergeant. “Dinnae worry, laddie, we all need a wee bit o’ a smack now an’ then, meh more’n most. Tis a good thing yer claw there was nae' powered oop, 'er yu'd be cleanin' meh off the walls!”

 

“What are you all doing down here?” Alan was very curious as to the kegs MacTavish’s squad was carrying.

 

“Weel, yur in the ‘onor company now, an’ seein’ as how the grand marshall dinnae ha’ time to give ye a right proper weelcome, meh an’ the lads figured it were up ta’ us.” Alan hadn’t really thought about it until now, but he realized he was, as a dreadnought, automatically inducted into the ranks of the Honor Company. The company was the Swords of Dorn’s equivalent to other chapters’ veteran companies. The Honor Company consisted of all those warriors who had either been interred in a dreadnought or gifted with terminator by the Grand Marshall. They answered to nobody but the Marshall and were often ‘loaned out’ to the Crusade Fleets. Promotion options were limited for a member of the Honor Company, but there were no shortage of fights to get mixed up in.

 

“Get yur metallic backside oover here now, York,” the sergeant said, addressing the apprentice techmarine. The boy, barely through with his years as a scout, ran up to the dreadnought’s sarcophagus.

 

“Hold still, sir, and let me put this in.”

 

“What are you up to-?” Alan’s voice was interrupted as a narrow tube intruded into his desiccated mouth, followed by a surge of cold liquid. He slurped greedily, having forgotten what taste was.

 

“Ah’ asked that lad York if sooch a thing cauld be done for ye,” Sergeant MacTavish explained as his squad popped open their kegs and began to drink as well. “Tis sweetroot, finest Finn an’ Bailey stock.”

 

Sweetroot was a fizzy, sugary drink the Swords of Dorn invented to offset their tasteless rations. Seeing as how astartes couldn’t get drunk, this seemed like the next best option. MacTavish raised his drinking horn.

 

“Ta’ victory an’ bug squishin’!” he toasted. Alan paused his slurping a moment, remembering his foul dream.

“To oaths fulfilled, and vengeance too!” Cheers filled the dark armory as new friendships were forged and the fears of the night were replaced by hatred of the foe.

 

 

Not much action, I know, but y'all hang on, Planetfall is up next!

[KEEPER]

Have to wonder if you took inspiration for the name from a certain game...I liked that you tried to throw in the accent, but maybe a little over board with it. I had to re-read a few lines to understand them. But I like the idea of fellow Veterans holding a kegger in his honor. Looking forward to some more.

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Thanks for the feedback!

The name was mainly so people would have an easy time guessing what the feth kind of accent i was trying to put into writing. If it really makes it hard to read I'll go on it a lot easier from now on.

[Storm Hawks Legion]

I had no trouble reading it, in fact I had fun reading the accents, but then my family is originally Irish so... I'm...predisposed to that style of accent, so my vote on the subject probably shouldn't be counted. so why am I posting on the subject?

 

keep it coming, I'll shut up now

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Ha, no need to shut up Storm Hawks Legion, us Gaelic lads got to stick together!

 

I'm sorry the next post is taking so long, here is a preview.

 

Space is quiet. The void is empty, stretching from its creation until the day it will be torn asunder. This vacuum is broken by rare particles and even rarer islands of matter, some of which can sustain life. It is peaceful out here, in the darkness. Yes, that is the word, peaceful. Peace reigns in space, the only one who can truly claim to rule that vast realm.

 

Dropping from space onto an embattled planetoid on a column of fire, however, is the farthest thing from peaceful.

 

***********

Alan fell, the first wisps of gas starting to scream against the drop pod’s hull. The first taste of Trexos, he thought, the first taste of revenge.

 

Marshall Reed’s plan was simple, but effective. The Swords had, in previous battles, captured and refitted two Dominator class cruisers. The two cruisers, Heretic’s Agony and Touch of Fate, approached the system at extreme range with a squadron of torpedo armed escorts. They opened fire on the tyranid fleet surrounding Trexos. Then, when enough bugs were drawn away, the Vengeance of Tullius with its incumbent escorts and two strike cruisers executed a micro-warp jump from outside the system and entered a high speed orbit around Trexos, blasting tyranid ships and bombarding the hives-turned-charnel houses to rubble. The battle barge and its fleet swung around the planet’s gravity well before coming back in eighteen hours. The occupants of nineteen drop pods and four thunderhawks had those eighteen hours to locate the wreck of Dorn’s Fury, Knight-Captain Andrews’s strike cruiser. They were to recover the geneseed and set the plasma generators to explode before extraction and extensive thermonuclear bombardment of the planet.

 

If the Swords were to be denied the planet, then the tyranids would pay in billions of lives.

[Captain_Roane]

Sounds good so far, but a micro-warp jump? If following fluff I don't believe its possible, well it is, but more than likely the ships would get torn to shreds. I've always been a fan of space battles in the warhammer universe, I wish there was an Imperial Navy website (now i'm off ranting).

And its fine if it takes a long time, I used to add a piece once a day to my story but now, its beginning to be like once a week, considering this is an off-shoot of the real novel i'm writing.

[Jonas Stromclaw]

By micro warp jump I meant within a planetary system as apposed to the massive ones needed to travel system to system. Heck, thats essentially what the warp spiders do over a distance of a few dozen meters, let alone a few hundred thousand kilometers.

[Captain_Roane]

I apologize, I thought you meant from within a planets area and jump past the tyranid ship and get closer to the planet.

[Storm Hawks Legion]

sounds really good.

i think its kinda interesting, all the Gaelic descendants i know in 40k play IF or their successors.