Annals of teh Great Hunt

[Zynk Kaladin]

This is a little snippet of a compilation of short stories I am working on. I still need to finish this one and it definitely still needs work... Enjoy!

 

Background:

 

This story addresses some background information in my chapter, the Night Angels. More specifically, the pact my chapter has with the Space Wolves. Many millennia ago my chapter's home planet Daethos was attacked by malicious forces (haven't decided who yet) when a vast majority of my chapter was throughout the galaxy. The Space Wolves, seeing a brother chapter in distress, came to aid us. As a sign of friendship, the Great Wolf at the time and I, Zynk Kaladin, made an age old pact of friendship that allows us to swap one squad in the chapter to learn from the other chapter.

 

Now it is the 41st millennium and my chapter just went through a huge war. We are vastly under strength, roughly 460 marines, and are now rebuilding our chapter. However, for the 9 man veteran Bloodclaw pack in our chapter, it is a time to cause friendly havoc and keep my planet on it's toes. From spray painting wolf symbols on our vehicles to stealing weapons and making trouble, the wolves love testing their infiltration abilities on our sentries. To hunt these pesky wolves I have picked 9 Night Angel hunters who are the best suited for the job. On the outside these little squabbles are looked down upon by normal marines, but between the Wolves and my Angels it is a test of skill, wit, and experience.

 

Once again, Enjoy!

 

No Cage is Big Enough For a Wolf

 

“Targets in sight,” proclaimed Sygernous Callen as he sighted the nine blue-grey armored targets through the scope of his Stalker pattern bolter.

 

“Initiate strike pattern Theta.” Replied the hard, calculating voice of Sergeant Dyran Lanthal. “May our enemies fear darkness…”

 

“…For darkness holds no peace.” Replied the eight other midnight blue armored space marines in the hunter squad. Callen hid himself on an on cropping in Secundus Spire across from his targets on a vast alcove meant for landing craft. He saw his blue brothers slowly and steadily climbing up to the alcove from another landing sight below. They were hundreds of meters above the city and one wrong move could send them hurtling to their deaths below.

 

Callen knew that would not happen. They were Space Marines. The Emperor’s finest. He offered a silent prayer to the beloved Emperor and his noble Chapter Master Kaladin for accuracy. Callen would need every bit of skill to get his sleeper dart into the neck of the unwary Space Wolf just over the ledge, gazing into the wondrous city.

 

* * *

 

Hrothgar Razortooth gazed at the panorama of evening city life. A myriad of lights littered the scene of vast buildings in an unending sea of metropolis, each adding to the soft orange glow of the setting sun. Landers and shuttle craft speckled the sky in a complex array of busy civilian and military life as each went to and from their business in lazy arcs. The soft, constant beating heart like that of a giant beast boomed from the great forges under the city added to its overall vitality.

 

Hrothgar could see far from his vantage point on one of the many spires of Cimmerian, the vast capital of the noble denizens of Daethos. Most importantly, it embraces the great cerulean fortress monastery of the Night Angels. For without the protection of the Angelus Noctis, as the citizens of Daethos know them, the wondrous planet devoted to the Emperor would have been lost many centuries ago…

“Hrothgar! Young whelp, steel your thoughts and join the pack!”

 

Hrothgar turned and met the sharp cobalt eyes of acting pack leader Byrnjolf Bloodaxe boring into his sea thoughts and tearing him away from the currents. The fact that the Bloodclaw leader was filling in for Wolf Guard Folkbjorn Dragonmaw did not diminish the underlying feral understanding that he was in charge. Byrnjolf wore the grey-blue armor of the Space Wolves, just like the other seven in the pack of nine Bloodclaws. The other younglings were milling about impatiently waiting to cause mischief, like they were so keenly used to doing in times away from the battlefield.

 

“Are we on the hunt again, pack leader?” Hrothgar replied as he joined his brothers.

 

“I hope so!” exclaimed Kjallak Talonsaw, always eager to ruin someone’s day with their mischeif.

 

“Aye, I grow anxious to act.” said Ludin Krakenslayer, his calm demeanor always belying his impatience.

 

Kjallak laughed, “Perhaps we should piss on the ‘hallowed’ armor of 1st company Sternguard again?” The question was met with the loud, rambunctious laughs of the other Bloodclaws. The rambunctious pack on Daethos was assigned to learn from the Night Angels as a millennia old pact of friendship and warrior swap between the two chapters. The Great Wolf chose this pack in particular because they were the best fighters the Fang could offer and veteran Bloodclaws well beyond their transition to Grey Hunters. However, when not in battle this pack in particular loves to cause havoc with whatever they can on Cimmerian just for the fun of it.

 

“No, my careless little whelps… do you forget to test the air again?!” They all opened their wolf-like noses and let in vast quantities of air. Such is the Space Wolf’s genetic makeup, which allows them to catch the scent of even the most elusive smell at the longest distances.

Suddenly, one of the Bloodclaws tensed, his eyes widening with recognition. Byrnjolf’s feral grin widened at his brother’s quick, acute senses finally being brought to the fore once more. A Bloodclaw growled,

 

“Angels!”

 

* * *

 

Hrothgar tensed in anticipation. He heard a sharp scrape on his shoulder guard and felt a rush of wind to his left. Barely a breath later blue armored Night Angels soared from under the alcove on roaring jump packs. The pack bolted into action as grenades landed at their feet. Hrothgar kicked one and sent it flying over the side of the alcove. He sprinted to the right and in a few bounds was in the cover of a small freight lander 30 meters from where he once was. In the few short milliseconds it took for him to assess the situation, the Night Angels were already unleashing salvoes in every direction just as the grenades exploded in gout of red powder. One blood claw was unlucky enough to get stuck by one and was covered in the red material. His muscles instantly loosened and he fell.

 

Hrothgar snarled. But just as he was going to act, the lander was powdered with red puffs of smoke. He ran as fast as he could away from the lander; away from the pack. It was every wolf for himself as of now. He bolted into a random shadowy alleyway, content on escape. His muscles pushed him to superhuman speeds, but just as he rounded the corner he caught the all too familiar scent of a Night Angel. It was too late.

 

Hrothgar crashed into a pile of spare parts. His head was spinning and he could feel a certain acute pain on his cheek. He quickly stood up howling. But his enemy was upon him in an instant. Hrothgar wrestled with the blue figure, struggling to get away from his grasp. The Angel lashed out again, but Hrothgar caught the fist and slammed the Angel into a wall with a reverberating boom. The Angel kneed him in the stomach and as quick as lightning was behind the Bloodclaw, slamming his face into the wall repeatedly.

 

Hrothgar was quickly loosing consciences with every hit, and his anger and frustration was taking over what little notion of a plan he had for escape. He howled, spitting blood from his mouth as he threw off his opponent with an angry push off the wall. Hrothgar turned in time to see a bolt pistol leveled at his chest and a swirling cloud of red puff all over his armor and face.

 

“My name is Alicott Ryneer. You may rest now, brother.” said the Night Angel as Hrothgar lost control of his muscles and tumbled down like a giant oak tree. His last sight was pack leader Byrnjolf rip off the Angels helmet and smack him unconscious with the ceramite headpiece. The last sound was Byrnjolf’s voice.

 

“Pleasant dreams my little Angel Ryneer.”

 

* * *