Through smoke and fire, through shot and shell

[Ufthak]

Here's the next part as promised. Unfortunately, I've been having a few hard days lately, and somehow I feel this part didn't turn out so well. What do you think?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

219-58, Imperial landing site

 

 

“Wrath and destruction!” the Ancient roared, and crashed his huge power fist into the large spider-like robot looming over Amboss. The thing disintegrated, its central section flung through the air by the force of the blow.

 

Amboss groaned as he got up. First a shell from an enemy tank battle cannon to the head, then the strange spider robots...it was giving him a headache. The streaming numbers on the inside of his lens told him that his armour was lightly damaged in multiple places.

 

“I thank thee, Ancient” he voxed to the dreadnought as he scythed through three enemy troopers at once with his lightning claws as though they were soft butter.

 

It was not going well. Though he and his terminators had destroyed hundreds of enemies in a series of deadly counterattacks, the enemy had registered that they were up against a formidable enemy, and were bringing armour and specialist troops to bear. Slowly, one by one, even Amboss’ mighty terminators were falling: Gotthammer and another brother were dead, Pausanias had had his left arm blown off, and most of the others were reporting damage to their armour.

 

Worse, Amboss and his squad had ventured beyond the Imperial lines to take out enemy tanks and spider robots, and though he had ordered the Bourdak 857^th Battalion to advance with them, the Imperial Army had so far failed to oblige.

 

Amboss roared and swung his arm around for another swipe at mesh-armoured infantry when suddenly another tank shell smacked into him with incredible force. The shell was of a primitive, non-explosive, armour-piercing type, and bounced off the tactical dreadnought armour with a loud clang, but it knocked Amboss over, and he fell to the ground with a mighty thud, crushing an enemy trooper beneath him.

 

For a short moment, everything went black.

 

The streaming numbers on Amboss’ lens now blinked red and told him his armour had sustained further damage. The tactical dreadnought armour’s sensorium was linked to the rest of the squad, and Amboss quickly flicked through his brothers views. It was clear: they were being overwhelmed.

 

A line of frenzied mesh-armoured troops, supported by large tanks, advanced against Amboss, and he heaved himself up and ignited his lightning claws.

 

“Time to die” he said, though whether to himself or the charging enemy, he wasn’t sure.

 

Suddenly, multiple enemy troops buckled under a hail of well-aimed shots. The charging enemy line staggered and broke asunder under the concentrated fire. With a surprised laugh, Amboss charged the disorganized enemy and beheaded two enemies at once with his claws. A moment later, a well-ordered line of men in close-fitting grey armour charged past him, expertly firing their lasguns and routing the disorganized enemy attack.

 

Amboss laughed in battle joy as the Imperial Army troopers advanced in textbook assault formation and slaughtered the enemy. Glancing over to his battle-brothers, he could see that they had also started advancing again. With ground-shaking footfalls, the Ancient Hohenstaufen stomped past him.

 

“Come and embrace you annihilation!” the dreadnought roared and loosed another salvo from his large autocannon.

 

Amboss watched as the Imperial Army troopers expertly destroyed a tank by hitting its weak spots with rocket launchers, while brother Pausanias put another to the flame with his heavy flamer.

 

“Good work, brother!” Amboss voxed to him. Pausanias answered in a comically serious voice: “I fancy some canned meat warmed up today.”

 

Amboss charged into the fray and dispatched the surviving enemy troops with his claws before turning to the grey-armoured soldiers. “Great work, lads. You hit them hard. I wish all of the Emperor’s soldiers had your stomach!”

 

One of the soldiers stepped forward. “It was an honour, Lord” without the faintest tinge of emotion in his voice. “Sergeant A-340586 of the 305^th Dyssadian. We are at your command, as ordered by your commander.”

 

“Get your wounded to the rear, form an orderly retreat back to our lines and entrench yourselves in the sector, and make sure the damned Bourdak don’t buckle!”

 

“Understood, Lord.”

 

Amboss surveyed the battlefield. Already, fresh battalions of enemy troops were moving toward them a few hundred yards away.

 

“Squad, regroup on me. Let’s get back to our lines then, shall we?”

 

 

 

Brother Donar’s head was pulverised as an armour-piercing shell from a tank autocannon hit home. His flamer, almost empty, dropped from his lifeless hands before the heavy body sagged and dropped to the ground.

 

“Vengeance!” Huno roared and charged the offending tank, swinging his huge Thunder Hammer. Just before reaching the tank, he jumped. With a eardrum-bursting thunderclap and a storm of fizzling lightning, the driver section of the tank was smashed in a yard deep, as though it were made of paper.

 

Huno landed expertly on the ground and rapidly reduced a group of dazed enemy infantry to squashed flesh with another swing from his hammer.

 

Mayer opened a vox channel to Hildebrand, the Apothecary. “Brother, Donar is down. Harvest gene-seed immediately.”

 

“Understood, brother.”

 

Mayer dodged a swing from an enemy trooper, a brute of a man almost the size of Mayer himself, clad in a strange, almost ornamental red robe and wielding a red-glowing two-handed axe. Mayer answered with a swing from his power sword, but his adversary was fast and blocked it. An ear-piercing, shrieking sound rang out as the two blades met, and a shower of red sparks and lightning erupted.

 

Mayer dodged another swing and this time brought his blade around in a pirouette so fast his adversary had no time to react. For a moment, the giant stood, a surprised look on his face; then his head toppled to the ground, followed by his huge body.

 

The man must have been some sort of leader, because the enemy assault buckled and broke, Mons Sanctus militia fleeing the scene in a rout, the tanks reversing as their infantry support fled.

 

Mayer opened a vox channel to the Chaplain. “Komnenos, send whatever you’ve managed to rally to my position.”

 

He went over to where the headless, mangled body of brother Donar lay. Apothecary Hildebrand was extracting the precious gene-seed which would allow a new marine to be created in Donar’s place.

 

“Be at peace at last, loyal servant of the Emperor” Mayer whispered.

[Tyear]

I think that the problem lies with the Astartes so readily accepting death amongst themselves. They are tools of war yes, they are meant to die in combat which is the most glorious thing to do yes. But they are brothers, not physical "I've been your brother for twenty years" way but mentally. They are soldiers beyond everything else, perfected into a singular purpose. Wage War. Simply as that, that's what their mindset is. Imagine if you can, a man you've known for sixty years. Who's saved your butt a thousand times and you, he suddenly dies, the first thing would not be to place your hand on his chest. (Yes I know I made the same mistake) and give a word of prayer to send his soul off. I'd think you'd very much make an oath if you will to avenge him, think about it.

 

This is a man/woman who's been your brother in battle, tempered in war almost in a way an extension of yourself. He or she dies, the impact will be tremendous, at first you'll feel sadness for the death of him/her. But afterwards won't you roar a cry of rage against those that did it, wouldn't you want to burn the world on which this happened. I know that Astartes should be above such things, but allowing for such human frailties makes for a much more.. shall we say enjoyable read.

 

Take for example Abnett, a well known writer, known above all else for crafting characters not story. For knowing/seeing/allowing human frailties. Even in Brothers of the Snake this is there, the character that they follow throughout the entire book is not a perfect warrior monk of the Emperor. He has very human thoughts and I think that's a good thing. Because with that comes the possibility of choice, what does he do. Does he simply shut it all off and do as his commander orders, or does the impact of seeing his friend die so suddenly, so brutally spawn a rage in him that will lead him into a wanton desire to slay those that made that happen. (a.k.a. the Enemy)

 

 

I dunno this might be like. "Dude.. tl.dr" (too long didn't read) or you may read it and actually go. "Yeah.. maybe human frailties are what keep the Astartes human and not like fricking aliens"

[Ufthak]

Hey Tyear!

 

Thanks as always for your comment :nuke:

 

Hm, you definitely have a point - Astartes SHOULD be above such things, but they simply AREN'T. The Captain would surely grieve for his brother, his feelings would indeed tell him to avenge his death and burn the entire world.

 

But then, Mayer is an Astartes Captain. More than that, he is a stalwart Imperial Fist. I think, considering his status, his Legion and the situation (they're in the middle of a battle), he would not yield to those emotions. The Captain has no time to grieve for his brother, and cannot afford to charge headlong into close combat to avenge his death when he's got a company of warriors to lead. Mayer would probably find time to grieve for his lost brothers later, after the battle.

That apart, brother Huno gave quite an emotional response and saw to it that Donar was avenged ;)

 

But thanks for your comment, definitely made me consider giving the Astartes some frailties...hm...I'll see what I can do ;)

[Ufthak]

Next part:

 

 

 

 

 

 

219-58, Capital City Sewer System

 

 

Ulman Temne ground his teeth together as he blazed away at blurred, green-black shadows flitting through his vision. The noise was a cacophony of screams, rattling autoguns and barking boltguns as the Imperial warriors gunned down the enemy troops from three sides. Against the concentrated fire of the stormtroopers and the Astartes, they didn’t stand a chance, and were massacred.

 

“Cease fire! Cease fire, damnit!” Lieutenant Daman’s voice rang out. Ulman stopped firing and exhaled deeply through his rebreather. Thirty-odd enemies, clad in long, quilted greatcoats and steel bowl helmets, lay in the stinking goo. A couple were writhing and moaning. The lieutenant advanced and dispatched them with a succession of quick shots from his autopistol.

 

“Everyone ok?” he asked. The stormtroopers all acknowledged. They had not lost a single man.

 

“Good work.” The deep, metallic voice of the Astartes sergeant echoed through the vox. “Search their bodies for intel. Do it fast.”

 

 

 

Though the stormtroopers had done a good job, Theoderic wasn’t happy. The ambush had created a din which could have been heard hundreds of yards away. Soon, scores of enemies would engulf them.

 

“Pugnus 1 to Montmartre, do you copy?”

 

“Pugnus 1, this is Montmartre, copy.” The lieutenant’s voice was distorted and barely audible.

 

“We’re done with the hostiles and need further directions” Theoderic said.

 

“Communication is getting difficult, my Lord. I am unsure for how much longer I will be able to provide you with directions. I am therefore uploading a map with directions to you, though I cannot say how accurate it is. In any case, take the next right, then left, then left again, then right. You should reach somw sort of sewer admin chamber. Communication should be possible again from there. But take care, heat signals tell me there are more enemies scattered throughout the sewers.”

 

“Understood. Thank you for your help.”

 

“My pleasure, Lord. Good luck. Montmartre out.”

 

Theoderic switched vox channel.

 

“Maric, regroup on me now.”

 

The leader of the Recon Squad sprinted up to Theoderic with his two squadmates, splashing through the brown slime.

 

“Maric, scout ahead while we clear up here. I want to know what’s coming our way. Use the map which intel’s uploaded to our sensorium. Take down minor enemy threats, but do not engage anything major. And keep me up to date.”

 

The leader of the Recon Squad nodded. “Understood, brother.”

 

“Go.”

 

 

 

Maric was a talented, if young, addition to the 2^nd Company. He had been an excellent scout, excelling in stealth, but he had had no wish to remain with the scouts once he had made full marine, like the strange Lars von Bingen had. This had made him perfect for the recon detachment.

 

The recon squad were clad in full MkII power armour, but their equipment included a wide array of observation tools, making them perfect for reconnaisance. Instead of the huge, brutish bolters which the other marines wielded, the recon squad were armed with special, large-calibre, silenced autoguns, using high-velocity ammunition and equipped with underslung gas grenade launchers and a flash suppressor.

 

Maric’s heavy boots made no sound as he swiftly sped along the sewer tunnel, his two squadmates following behind him. On the upper-right inside of his lens, Maric had a miniature version of the map, with a red line tracing the path they needed to take.

 

They took a right turning. A few hundred yards up ahead, a flickering light illuminated a large door on the left side of the wall. Enemy troopers were vaguely visible standing by the door. A minor threat, good to go for his squad.

 

“Maximum caution” Maric voxed to his squadmates. They advanced swiftly but silently. There were five enemy troopers by the door. Two seemed to be officers of some sort. They were standing by a small table with what appeared to be some sort of vox-set, and were clad in the long, quilted greatcoats. They seemed to be arguing over something. The other three appeared to be armoured in a heavy, metallic carapace armour, and were standing guard.

 

At a distance of about fifty paces, Maric hand-signalled his warriors to hunker down. “Dorthmunn, the guard on the left. Ludvitsh, the guard on the right. I’ll take the middle. Officers are a second priority, but don’t let them sound the alarm on that vox. On my go.”

 

Maric waited for both officers to turn away from the guards.

 

 

“Go.”

 

With barely audible plick sounds from the autoguns, the three guards sank into the slime.

 

“Dorthmunn, the officers. Go.”

 

Another two plicks, and the officers dropped.

 

“Good work, lads.”

 

Maric switched channel to Theoderic.

 

“Found the first left-hand turn. Way clear up to here. Move up.”

 

Theoderic’s calm voice answered through the vox. “Good work. Moving up. Hold position.”

 

“Affirmative, brother.”

 

Maric turned to Ludvitsh. “Auspex report?”

 

Ludvitsh glanced up from the softly green-glowing screen of the auspex. “Maric, I’ve got multiple heat signals up ahead, and more a few hundred yards behind the door, all moving toward us.”

 

“Any details?”

 

“Whatever they are, they are large, fast, and there’s a lot of them.”

 

An eerie, feral howling echoed down the sewer.

 

Maric switched the safety of his underslung grenade launcher. “The situation just got very interesting.”

 

 

 

219-58, Capital City Government district

 

 

“Proximity mines and alarm sensors planted along all possible access routes, sarge.”

 

Without shifting his gaze from the scope, Lars answered. “Good work, initiate. Scout surroundings and assess potential fallback routes should we be compromised.”

 

“Understood, sarge.”

 

“Drax, what’s your status on the skull drone?”

 

“Almost good to go, sarge.”

 

Having set up a sniper position among a load of rubbish on the rooftop, Lars now carefully scanned the target building through his scope. The rooftop appeared to be a spotlessly clean garden, with trees, a lawn, a beautiful pool, tables and chairs. Eight guards patrolled the rooftop, and nude or barely clothed young courtesans reclined on the chairs or in the pools.

 

Something’s missing, Lars thought. The enemy snipers. Where were they? Such an important target was always protected by snipers.

 

Lars was the born sniper. He had abilities no amount of training could develop. Lars did not merely calculate; he felt. He knew exactly what do to and when to do it, what to look out for and what to take into account. When he discharged his ancient rifle, it was no mere calculation followed by the shot based on that calculation; it was so much more. The projectile became a part of Lars, and he guided it every inch of the way to its destination.

 

Looking up from his scope, Lars took in the surroundings. Within a matter of seconds, he had pinpointed three buildings likely to house enemy snipers, based on their make, their height, their condition, and their location. Swiftly, he scanned the buildings, one by one. Moments later he had assessed five potential sniper positions.

 

Only two of these positions were in effective range of his own.

 

“Thymias.”

 

“Yes, sarge?”

 

“I want you to keep an eye on the red building to our right, 8^th floor from the top, the large blast hole in the wall, the piece of currugated iron to the left; and on the grey building to our left, 2^nd floor from the top, 5^th window from the right, the one with the damaged shutters closed. Got that?”

 

“Erm...”

 

“I asked, got that?”

 

“Yes, sarge.”

 

“Good. Anything moves there, let me know. Everyone, keep a low profile from now on.”

[Ufthak]

No comments? :)

 

C'mon guys, I can't motivate myself to continue if I don't know whether my story's worth anything...so any crits & comments welcome!

[Legio Draconis]

Hey, just a note, I really like your style of writing, it flows without feeling rushed. Looking for more so keep up the good work. :) :tu: :tu:

[Ufthak]

Good to know I can at least write well! Thanx for the comment! :)

 

As for the story itself: any comments one that? Is it a good story? Is it boring? Is it too drawn out?

 

 

 

 

Anyways, here's the next part, freshly written. What do you think?

 

 

 

 

 

 

219-58, Khaman Defence Laser System

 

 

Patrax’ power claws cut through the Mons Sanctus Corporation tank as if it were paper. The hatch of the tank turret opened and the head of the dazed tank commander appeared. Patrax swiftly lopped it off, and a fountain blood birefly spurted up from the neck as the body dropped back into the tank.

 

“Talon 1 calling Imbard 1, what’s the status on the charges?”

 

“The Engineers are saying they need more time, Brother. The technology here is only partly known to us, and they are still assessing the critical points for the explosives.”

 

“Tell them fast is good. Things are getting hot.”

 

“Copy.”

 

Patrax ducked as a rocket-propelled grenade flew past him, missing his jump pack by inches. “Kraeye, tank to the left, your responsibility!”

 

“Affirmative, brother!”

 

Patrax took to the air, avoiding a streak of heavy explosive autocannon rounds from the tank aimed his way. While in the air, he watched brother Kraeye land heavily on the tank and crush it with a mighty blow from his power fist. A moment later, the tank blew up in a huge explosion which engulfed nearing enemy infantry.

 

Patrax landed on top of a small heavy-weapons bunker situated in the middle of the trenches. “Kraeye report, report!”

 

With a groan, Kraeye’s voice came through the vox. “Still here, Sarge, but damage sustained.”

 

Patrax voxed the rest of the squad. “One of you, get Kraeye out of there.”

 

“Got it” Aktos answered.

 

Patrax jumped toward a group of enemy infantry in heavy metallic armour, landing in their midst and crushing three under the weight of his boots. “Feel the blades!” he cried as his power claws cut four further enemies to shreds.

 

Patrax saw a further enemy tank traverse its turret toward him. At the last moment, he jumped. He felt the shockwave of the explosion below him and was blown slightly off-course, landing in a wide communication trench heavily on his back.

 

“Brother, are you alright?” Brother Graiff’s voice came throught the vox.

 

“Yes, I’m fine” Patrax groaned as he got up and clambered out of the trench. “Aktos, report. You got Kraeye?”

 

“Yes, but his jump pack’s destroyed.”

 

“Right, Squad, fall back to the Laser on foot. Dumyony, Herran, cover us, then follow with your packs. Go!”

 

 

 

One of Havildar Uas Renditch’s troopers was cut down by heavy autogun fire, and dropped back onto the planks at the base of the trench. Uas cursed silently and lobbed a grenade into the trench parallel to theirs which was filled with Flasinfild regulars.

 

It was mayhem. Though having sustained immense casualties, the three battalions of Falsinfild Corporation troops launched assault after assault, slowly driving the defenders back and whittling them down one by one. Uas still had 6 of his 9 troopers left, but other squads had not fared so well. One of the anti-aircraft guns which they had commandeered had been put out of action, and the enemy pressure was mounting.

 

A deafening, fiery explosion to his right got Uas’ attention, and he glanced over the lip of the trench. The black Astartes had incapacitated a tank. Even as he watched, he saw one of them jump straight into the smoke, flames and dust.

 

A round whizzing past his head got his attention again.

 

“Serqa, Malik, move to the bunker to our left and commandeer the heavy weapon there, provide some enfilading fire. Do it now!”

 

His two troopers sped off along the trenches.

 

“Get the flamer up here!” Uas shouted. “Let’s light ‘em up!”

 

A moment later, a shower of hand grenades came their way.

 

“Take cover, everyone!”

 

With a deafening series of crumps, the grenades blew. One of Uas’ troopers was blown limb from limb, his bloody flesh showering the rest of the squad. Uas lay at the base of the trench, his heart pounding, his breath wheezing as he felt pain everywhere from the numerous minor wounds and the broken ribs. He checked his body for new wounds; there were none, but he was covered in blood and bits from his trooper. He attempted to clean off the gore, revolted; something on his thigh caught his eye, and he stared at it; and the thigh stared back.

 

Uas vomited.

 

Suddenly, a loud cheer went up from the trench parallel to theirs, and a group of enemies jumped from it and charged.

 

“Repel!” Uas instinctively shouted, but he realized it was no good; the grenades had done their job, and his troopers cowered in the trench, dazed. Only one actually fired at the oncoming attackers.

 

We’re doomed, Uas thought, slowly picking up his autogun with shaking fingers.

 

The enemy were upon them...

 

With a strange, ear-piercing shriek, a long beam of green light cut through the assaulting enemy troops, bisecting five in a swift swoop. For a moment, Uas’ ears were ringing. The remaining enemy troops panicked and attempted to fall back to their trenches, but another beam cut them down, halved men dropping to the ground.

 

Malik’s voice came through the vox. “Woah...just in time...”

 

“Heehee, I like this gun...” Serqa added.

 

Uas exhaled in relief, and slumped back against the side of the trench.

 

 

 

“Answer me, damnit! How much longer are you going to take?” Markos Demmerung thundered into the vox.

 

“I-I-I ap-apologize, my Lord, but we are not familiar with this technology and still need to assess further critical points. We are constantly descovering auxiliary systems which also need to be rigged. At least another half hour, my Lord.”

 

“We do not have half an hour! If it’s not done within 15 minutes, I will personally come in there and kill you, understood?”

 

“U-understood, my Lord. 15 minutes.”

 

Damn engineers, Demmerung thought. He voxed the commander of the Mughali assault troops.

 

“Subedar, what’s the status on your troops?”

 

Subedar Ios Parambata’s voice was strained. “We’re holding on, but taking casualties, mostly wounded, counting myself. We’ll hold for as long as we can, but given the current situation with ammunition that won’t be long.”

 

“Hold on, subedar. I’ll see to it that you have your ammunition and some support.”

 

“Acknowledged. Thank you, my Lord.”

 

Demmerung switched vox channels.

 

“Imbard 1 calling Super 6. You copy?”

 

“Copy.”

 

“Drop ammunition for the Mughali assault troopers as well as my devastators on my position, then make a strafing run across any enemy armour you can see.”

 

“Got it” the pilot answered.

 

 

 

Brother Aktos dropped Kraeye to the ground by the field infirmary. The paint on Kraeye’s armour had been largely burnt off, both his lenses and the eyes beyond destroyed, his jump and power pack lost, and his right arm with the power fist blown off.

 

“Rest brother, and contemplate about whether it was a good idea punching your fist right into the ammunition stacks of the tank turret” Aktos said.

 

“Shut up” Kraeye groaned.

[Legio Draconis]

Hey, as I said before you piece is really well paced, well written and a really good read. I have no criticisms to add as I really like it. Keep up the good work.

 

:huh:

[Ufthak]

Really appreciate your comment so I do :blush:

Will keep on writing!

[Ufthak]

Ok, after a few days of absence I can finally post the next part of the story. The weekend was hell, been working my backside off and never got round to writing. Anyways, here's the next part, sorry it's rather short, but I just haven't the time at the moment.

 

Any C&C?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

219-58, Imperial landing site

 

 

A-340586 drove his bayonet into the Falsinfild regular’s neck with perfect, drill-like precision, blood spurting out through the wound onto his helmet. The regular dropped to the base of the trench, wheezing and coughing up blood.

 

The 305^th Dyssadian Clone Troopers were now down to under a hundred men from the original 3,600 that had deployed a few weeks previously. Yet still they held on.

 

“Sergeant, we need to fall back now! Initiate a fighting retreat!”

 

A-340586 turned to the speaker. It was Major Kombur, commander of the 857^th Bourdak. The officer’s eyes were wide open with panic, and he was shaking all over.

 

“Duck down!” A-340586 shouted, and the major dropped to the ground as the clone trooper opened up with his lascarbine at an enemy trooper behind him.

 

“We need to get out of here, sergeant!” the major cried with a panicky voice. “I am withdrawing the remnants of my battalion now!”

 

With steel-like coldness, the clone trooper sergeant surveyed the cowering officer and answered: “I have received no order to retreat. I have my orders directly from the Astartes, and they say we need to hold the sector.”

 

“Then you can hold and die here, my troopers will fall back!”

 

The clone trooper brought up his lascarbine and aimed it at the major’s head.

 

“No, please...”

 

The shot burnt a large hole through the officer’s forehead and blew out a part of his brain through the back. For a moment, the major swayed, then dropped to the muddy base of the trench.

 

A-340586 picked up the major’s micro-bead.

 

“My orders were also to make sure your battalion doesn’t buckle.”

 

Then he spoke into the micro-bead:

 

“Attention, 857^th Battalion! Your commanding officer has fallen heroically in combat! Let us emulate his example and hold the line! Every moment we hold on longer saves imperial lives! Hold on, men, for the Emperor!”

 

A-340586 turned to one of his troopers. “Corporal, take your section and find the ranking Bourdak officer. Make sure he holds the defence together, if not, then replace him. Understood?”

 

“Yes, sarge.”

 

“Do it.”

 

 

 

Lieutenant Eva Montmartre ducked as yet another mortar round blew up in her entrenched command position, blowing two of her aides to shreds.

 

Her heart beat furiously and her breathing came fast as she fought the urge to panic. It was mayhem; half of her crew had been killed by shelling, and she had lost contact not only to Pugnus 1, but also to Count Gneisenau in the command HQ.

 

Shaking, she looked up over the lip of the earthworks. Looking down the slope of the plateau, she could see the pitiful remains of the Dumonti Royal Guard 1^st Voltigeur Battalion abbandoning their trench positions. They had put up a good fight, holding the position for several hours, but had now finally given way. Battalions of black-clad Mons Sanctus Corporation troopers were advancing unopposed through their positions.

 

Within minutes, they would be on Montmartre’s position.

 

She surveyed her team, all cowering at the base of the earthworks.

 

“Right, listen you lot. Derban, Ulomni, back to the work on the holographic scannings, the Astartes need the intel! Do it now, it is our highest priority! Kersor, run and try to reach Count Gneisenau! And the rest of you, ready yourselves to repel an attack. Now!”

 

For a moment, no one moved. Then the explosion of another mortar grenade galvanized everyone to action, and the aides immediately went to their assigned tasks, going back to operating the intel-machines and loading autorifles.

 

The lieutenant switched vox channel.

 

“Montmartre to Eagle 1, do you copy?”

 

Mayer’s voice answered calmly over the vox. “Yes, lieutenant?”

 

“My Lord, the Dumonti Voltigeurs have given way, and we are about to be overrun. I will hold my position, but if you wish to receive further intel today you will need to send me reinforcements immediately!”

 

“Understood, lieutenant. I’ll see to it.”

 

Lieutenant Montmartre pulled out her autopistol with shaking hands and armed it.

 

Damnit...

 

 

Mayer turned to Stahlhelm, the Tech-Marine, whose servo-arms and mechadendrites were whizzing across the bulk of the Ancient Hohenstaufen with an amazing speed, re-routing damaged circuits and administering basic battle repairs, while the servitors replenished the autocannon ammo supply.

 

“How much longer?” Mayer asked.

 

“Almost done, Captain. Just another minute.”

 

“Good.”

 

Mayer turned to the Ancient.

 

“Most revered ancient, I need your help once more. Everyone is engaged, yet our intelligence officer needs our aid. Move to her position swiftly.”

 

The deep, brutal, metallic voice of the Ancient reverberated through the vox.

 

“I will, brother.”

[Ufthak]

I'd like to ask your guys on comments to the different characters.

Which characters do you think are well done and which ones need to be redone/fleshed out?

Who is your favourite/least favourite character?

Which of the four storylines is the best/worst?

 

I'd just like to know where my story is lacking...

[Legio Draconis]

Over the four threads that you are weaving, the only difficulty I had was at the start I had trouble telling the Fists and Raven Guard apart. I think that may have been my fault not yours though. I think no single element stands out as better or worse than any other, they mix and mingle well and using the intelligence officer as the link between each element is working well. You keep posting I will keep reading. Keep up the very good work.

[Ufthak]

Thanx Legio Draconis :) I will!

Just hoping the week won't be as hard as last weekend, that was hell. Hope I can post the next part this evening or tomorrow.

[antique_nova]

nevermind

[Ufthak]

@antique_nova:

You mean I shouldn't bother?

[antique_nova]

Earlier in a post, i asked a question because i was confused. But i re-read that paragraph again and it became clear B).

thanks

antique_nova

[Ufthak]

Right, after a hellish week of hard work, I FINALLY got round to writing the next part of the story. Sorry it took me so long, will try to be swifter next time.

What do you think about the next chapter? Please let me know what you guys think is good and what I should avoid for the future :tu:

 

Also, I thought I could make a little experiment: would like to let you guys influence the story-line a bit! Just let me know who your favourite character is / you least favourite character is, and I shall let their individual fates be influenced by your opinion!

 

So just lemme know, ok? :(

 

Anyways, here's the next chapter:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

219-58, Capital City Sewer System

 

 

“Fall back, Maric, fall back to our position immediately!” Theoderic’s voice came through the vox.

 

The howling was coming closer, as were the sounds of scurrying, mingled with horrid snarling and snorting. Maric detached a proximity mine from his belt.

 

“Ludvitsh, cover us! Dorthmunn, deploy proximity mines now! Fall back as fast as possible!”

 

 

 

Theoderic turned to the commander of the stormtroopers.

 

“Lieutenant, move your stormtroopers to the next cross-intersection and position them right and left. Do it now and do it fast!”

 

Lieutenant Daman nodded and waved his stormtroopers on.

 

Next, Theoderic turned to one of his warriors. “Church, take your team and be the bait. Position yourselves just ahead of the next cross-intersection, collect Maric and his squad when they come, then fall back and let the enemy come into the killing zone in the middle of the intersection. Got it?”

 

“Yes, Brother.”

 

“Go.”

 

Suddenly, the vox crackled with shouting, explosions and snarling. It was Maric and his squad. Theoderic couldn’t understand anything through the noise, but one thing was certain: whatever was coming their way had caught up with Recon Squad.

 

And Recon Squad was dying.

 

 

 

Ulman Temne held his autogun with steady hands. The enemy was coming, but they were prepared, and the Astartes were with them.

 

He glanced to the trooper next to him. Even though she was wearing her helmet and mask, he could tell it was Octavia Mbelu, the platoon medic, handywoman and whore. Though she was one tough bitch, Ulman liked her a lot, and she had seen to his health and welfare many times before – though unfortunately not in the way he had hoped. Octavia was choosy – she wouldn’t let just anyone have her.

 

Though her mask betrayed nothing, she gave him a brief nod.

 

“Get ready, boys” the calm voice of Lieutenant Daman came through the vox.

 

With a deafening bark, the Astartes acting as bait opened up with their bolters, making Ulman jump.

 

“Mutants!” the brutal metallic voice of the Astartes echoed. “Purge them!”

 

Ulman gripped his autogun. The Astartes acting as bait were falling back in a well-ordered manner, taking turns in firing and moving. Ulman could hear a horrid snarling, wheezing and screeching through the cacophony of the bolters.

 

“NOW!” the Astartes sergeant’s voice boomed. The Astartes acting as bait swung left and right, joining the stormtroopers in their hidden positions in the intersection. A moment later, the rest of the Astartes squad opened up with bolters and flamers.

 

Through the green, distorted night vision, Ulman caught glimpses of the most horrifying creatures he had ever seen. Grossly distended and deformed, they may at some stage have been human beings, many now barely recognizable. Some had huge heads, others large, bulging eyes; some had long, distended tongues reaching from their mouths like tentacles; again others swung huge, muscle-packed limbs. But the mass of enemies mostly consisted of simple, naked human beings, many missing hair or even eye sockets and limbs. Many moved in a jerky, crazed fashion; some cackled and laughed; but, most horrifically, some cried and wailed pathetically, as if wanting their mother.

 

Mesmerised by the horrible sight, Ulman stood immobilized even as the creatures charged toward him. A sharp rattling from an autogun snapped him back to reality, and, pressing the trigger, he added his fire to that of Octavia next to him.

 

The creatures howled and wailed as they went down, but where one dropped another took his place, and after a few moments the lieutenant shouted “Bayonet!” and charged into close combat. With a shrieking war cry, Octavia charged after him, firing her autogun from the hip and goring a filthy, naked man with long nails through the neck with her bayonet. Seeing Octavia charge in galvanized Ulman into following her, and with a scream he jumped a corpse and rammed his bayonet into a large, bloated stomach.

 

 

 

Theoderic swung his chainsword expertedly and cut down two enemies tearing apart one of his battle-brothers. Many of the mutants were bloated and massive and wielded an immense strength through their huge muscle packs, strong enough to crush even an Astartes.

 

“Purge these abominations!” Theoderic roared, his chainsword grinding deep into the shoulder of a huge, brutish creature moving on all fours. His warriors dealt death with their bolters and short combat swords, lacerating their enemies into bloody heaps.

 

But the enemy took their toll, too: Theoderic shouted out a warning to one of the stormtroopers, but it was too late, and the man was ensnared by a coiling tongue, heaved up into the air and torn apart by massive limbs. One of Theoderic’s warriors was swamped by a mass of creatures and disappeared beneath them.

 

“Die, filthy animals, die, die, die!” the warrior shouted before falling silent.

 

 

 

Ulman was knocked to the ground by a trio of female mutants with grossly bloated heads, and they descended on him, screeching. He lost the grip of his autogun and desperately kicked back at them with his feet while trying to detach his entrenching tool from his belt with his hands.

 

The women tugged and pulled at his clothing and tore of segments off his carapace armour, biting down on any soft spots. Ulman felt sharp pain where their teeth sunk through his uniform trousers and into his skin. He screamed as his rebreather was torn from his face and fingers with long fingernails clawed at his face.

 

The stench was unbearable and the toxic gasses in the air burnt down Ulman’s throat. His vision swam and his head felt woozy. He vaguely registered Octavia shouting his name, though it seemed far off. Above him loomed the filthy, naked body of one of the mutant women, her face far too small for her huge head. Her mouth opened , baring bloody teeth, readying to tear his throat out.

 

Help...me...

 

Suddenly, the head of the woman disappeared in a bloody mess as the gauntleted fist of an Astartes smashed directly into her face. Mere moments later, the other two women had been expertedly felled by swift punches from a huge Astartes power fist.

 

Ulman barely registered Octavia reattaching the rebreather to his face and shouting his name, before he dropped away into oblivion.

[Ufthak]

C'mon, guys! No favs? No opinions?

 

I'd really like you to influence the storyline a bit, am curious how it turns out!

[Legio Draconis]

Another good addition to the overall plot, if short. I want to see more of the scout snipers and see what they are up to. I would like to see something from the enemy perspective, even just to let the reader know who they are and what their story is. Keep up the good work, as i said keep posting I will keep reading.

[Ufthak]

The Scouts were planned for the next chapter, so you won't have to wait long ;)

 

Hm, I hadn't planned on writing anything from the enemy point of view, but admittedly I haven't said much about them yet. Your crit is noted; I'll see what i can do :D Thanx!

[Ufthak]

Alright, here's the next chapter. It turned out rather short, but so is my time currently, so I hope that's ok. What do you think?

 

 

 

 

 

219-58, Capital City Government district

 

 

“Drax?”

 

“Operating drone, sarge, almost there...”

 

“Good.”

 

Lars glanced up from his scope and looked over to the spy. Djatto Quatt had not moved or spoken ever since the sniper team had gone to work, and was watching them with a look of mild interest.

 

“Tell me, master spy: why did you choose this building, over 3,000 metres away from the target?”

 

The spy stared at Lars for a moment before answering.

 

“It was the only empty building, and the only one where we could land without rousing suspicion. Also, the enemy will never even suspect the building – I have never in my life heard of anyone who hit his mark at this range. Do you have a problem with it, master sniper?” he hissed.

 

Lars ground his teeth together.

 

“No.”

 

Lars observed the two enemy sniper positions through his scope. Though nothing moved, Lars knew they were there, felt they were there.

 

“So, who exactly is this Scudroth?” Thymias asked.

 

The spy turned to him slowly. “That is of no concern. He is a target, a target which, if taken down, will cause the enemy military high command to be leaderless.”

 

Lars cut in. “No, that’s not good enough, master spy. Tell us who exactly it is we’re executing today.”

 

The spy sighed. “Alright. Yun’ti Scudroth is the vice-director of the Mons Sanctus Corporation, the largest and most powerful of the four warring factions. The Corporation specializes in genetic manipulation and enhancement. Scudroth is the mastermind behind the latest experiments, which brought forth a new generation of enhanced soldiers, the ‘Gene-Guard’. He was also responsible for a huge research and experiment program to genetically modify the entire food supply in order to achieve higher outputs, which resulted in a collapse of the natural environment and a famine which killed billions. When the Imperium came to this world, the Corporations allied themselves and gave him command of all the Corporate troops in the area. Currently, the entire command structure revolves around Scudroth. If we take him down today, the enemy will be thrown into disarray for a few days at worst, giving us valuable time to turn the tables.”

 

“What of the other Corporations?” Thymias asked. “Do they also have a strong presence in the area?”

 

“Indeed. The Falsinfild Corporation is built around an obscure figure named Taffith Falsinfild. A few centuries ago, he attempted to create a one-world-government with a one-world-religion, all revolving around him and his board. Revered as a god and the saviour of humanity, his armies of zealots number untold billions and are the cannon-fodder for the new Alliance. The other two Corporations are smaller, but also have influence in the region around the Capital: the MykroPortae Corporation, which specializes in machines, logic-engines, combat hardware and robots and now provides a wide array of war machines for the Alliance, and the Bavar Corporation, which originally built its power on pharmaceutical rersearch and now supplies the vast armies with what they need.”

 

“It matters not what they have” Lars cut in. “They will be destroyed, like all the enemies of the Imperium. They were offered the glory and the might of the Imperium and they spat on it. We shall annihilate them.”

 

“Indeed” the icy voice of the spy answered, barely audible.

 

Drax suddenly looked up from his observation screen. “Skull drone’s 212 metres away from the target, but there seems to be some sort of electro-magnetic disruption field shielding the building; if I go closer, it might get damaged. I can zoom in, though.”

 

“Well done, initiate. Master spy, how long until we hit the deadline?”

 

“1,28 minutes.”

 

“Right, everyone get ready. Let’s take the bastard down then, shall we?”

[Legio Draconis]

Nice, I like how you used the spymaster to give us some background information on the bad guys. Now shoot the heretics.

[Ufthak]

All in good time :P

Anyways, here's the next part. What do you think of it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

219-58, Imperial landing site

 

 

“Woah...not good...” one of Eva Montmartre’s aides remarked as two companies of Mons Sanctus infantry advanced up the slope against them.

 

“Shut it and get ready to repel” the lieutenant said, cocking her pistol. Her aides took up firing positions along the earthwork sandbag positions.

 

Eva Montmartre looked out over the desolate land. As far as the eye could see, there was war. The land was black and torn; black husks of bombed-out buildings reached up to the dark sky, burning; in the distance, a lone Fellblade super heavy fought off attacks by multiple enemy tanks.

 

This world is dead, Eva thought. How could men render their beautiful world down to something so ghastly, so sad, so horrible? Then she reminded herself that, not long before she had been born, before the Emperor had united Terra and founded the glorious Imperium, Earth itself, the cradle of humankind, had been almost exactly like this world – torn by war, black and dead.

 

“Ulomni, what’s the status on the intel?” Eva asked her aide through her micro-bead.

 

“Working on it, ma’am. We still have no update on Pugnus 1, need to wait for them to come back into vox range. Talon and Imbard are engaged heavily at the defence laser system, holographics show multiple enemy units moving against them.”

 

“Right, vox Imbard and warn them. Take over from me for now, Ulomni.”

 

“Got it, ma’am.”

 

Eva knew it was crucial that Ulomni and Derban, who were operating the intel equipment further back in the dugout, kept updating the Astartes. They needed to be protected at all costs.

 

One of Eva’s aides suddenly shouted out. “Here they come!”

 

Eva desperately looked to the left and right of her position for support. A few hundred yards to her right, the crews of a mortar platoon had switched their fire on the advancing enemies, but the fire was slow and slack. To her left, Eva could see some twenty Dumonti Voltigeurs take up firing positions in dugouts. Their commander, a lieutenant, glanced her way and briefly nodded. At least we’re not completely alone, Eva thought.

 

Glancing over the lip of the dugout, she could see the enemy troopers were merely a hundred yards away.

 

“Open fire!”

 

Her aides blazed away with their autoguns and lobbed grenades down the hillside, but their fire was feeble. Here and there, black-uniformed enemies dropped, but the rest came on with a resolution of steel, their skull-like gas-masks making them look like an image of death coming for them.

 

Eva aimed and fired her autopistol, the kick unfamiliar in her hands. She and her team had only received the most basic training, and now she cursed herself for not having done more.

 

“They’re almost on us!” one of her aides shouted.

 

“Hold them, hold them, damnit!” Eva answered, and came up to loose another salvo from her sidearm which toppled an enemy trooper merely five yards away.

 

The enemy were coming over the lip...

 

Now we’re all going to die, Eva thought, panic rising within her, and she stared as her team fell back in a rout, her aides being shot in the back as they ran. An explosion knocked Eva to the ground, and her limbs locked as her muscles would not obey her commands in panic. She felt her bladder about to empty itself.

 

Suddenly, a deafening salvo from a heavy weapon tore through the enemy and disintegrated some twenty of them into bloody heaps of meat and limbs.

 

A deep, booming, metallic voice echoed.

 

“Fear them not, brothers and sisters, for I am their end! Hold! Let us destroy them together!”

 

Eva looked up. A few yards from her prostrate form, a huge, gold-yellow war machine stood, a staff on its massive bulk bearing the golden two-headed eagle of the Imperium, and a beautiful, intricately woven flag with a black gauntleted Fist emblazoned upon it.

 

A dreadnought.

 

Eva’s heart leapt as the huge, metal fist of the dreadnought came down and picked her up. Though she felt the iron fingers clasp her slender body, the grip was amazingly gentle. The dreadnought carefully placed her on her feet, then loosed another deafening barrage of heavy shells at new enemies coming over the lip.

 

“Come” the voice of the dreadnought boomed. “Gather your team. I shall protect you.”

 

Eva watched, mesmerised, as the dreadnought stomped past her with heavy, ground-shaking footfalls and crossed the earthern lip with surprising ease, crushing sections of it under his weight.

 

“I am death and I am come for you!” the machine roared, and opened up with his heavy weapon again. A loud cheer went up from the Dumonti troopers still holding out next to their position.

 

It took Eva a moment to gather herself. She tapped her micro-bead. “T-team, on me. We’ve got intel to work on.”

 

 

 

Captain Pavlos Mayer expertedly danced around his enemies, swinging his two-handed sword with each pirouette, scything down multiple enemies, severed limbs and heads dropping to the black, smouldering ground.

 

Next to him, Brother Huno swung his huge Thunder Hammer, each impact a thunderclap which sent entire platoons of Falsinfild regulars reeling.

 

With a roar more of rage than of pain, Signifer Damocles dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, a large, smoking hole in his MkIV breastplate. The beautiful Company banner went down too, slowly trailing its flag.

 

“Apothecary, see to Damocles!” Mayer shouted, picking up the banner and holding it aloft again in defiance.

 

They were dying. Slowly, but surely. The Astartes were giving all they could, but the landing site was far too large for a mere handful of marines to hold, and the enemy was breaking in at multiple points in the perimeter. One by one, even the Emperor’s finest were dropping: Loric Amboss reported six of his veterans dead, and the other squads had lost a total of twenty-three battle-brothers.

 

At least the evacuation was going well: ever since Patrax had taken the defence laser system, the troop ships had been able to ferry the routing army fairly safely to the fleet above.

 

But, due to the shroud, the fleet had so far been unable to provide supporting orbital fire.

 

Damnit, Theoderic, take that shrouding device out!

 

Mayer roared in defiance as multiple Falsinfild troops charged him, firing their weapons. Most bullets bounced off his armour, but some found their way into the soft armour at the joints, and Mayer felt slight stings as the projectiles bored through and into his skin. He roared with rage.

 

“For the Emperor!” He countercharged and swung his sword with one hand, bisecting three troopers with one swoop.

 

“Come and face your death!”

[Legio Draconis]

Another good addition, no complaints at all. The dreadnought scene was rocking.

[raptor1199]

only emperor children were allowed to have aquilla in pre-heresy(?)

 

and i second that dreadnougth rocks