But Of Lamentations

[mega_marines]

Brother Zhaltek was dying. It didn’t take anyone with half a brain to realize it. His blood loss was rampant. His legs? Severed at the waist by the beats that now lay dead beside him, oily smoke wafting into the air from where it lay strewn. A Defiler, as it was called. Killed with a Krak Grenade Zhaltek had thrown perfectly into a joint where the legs of the beast met the body. The yellow armored marine smiled, his torn lips dripping red vitae down his chin as he did so. Ah, the hated enemy, the vile Black Legion. How they ran before his brothers clad similar to himself.

 

Sergeant Andoria had ordered the rest of the squad to stand watch, even as their brothers advanced. Zhaltek would not die alone, by his decree. Even so, Bolters were raised, shots were taken, and shots were received. Zhaltek coughed violently for a few seconds, and leaned back, looking around when his violent fit slowed. He had removed his helmet almost immediately when he couldn’t right himself, and the foul tasting air wasn’t the worst thing to taste as he died. The warrior titled his head to the side, his short cropped hair catching a mild breeze as he did so. Immediately to his left were his legs, looking almost comical detached from his form. Zhaltek had to resist the urge to laugh, even as his power ebbed from him.

 

His Bolter had been smashed, his pistol lost in the swirl of a previous melee, he now lay, clutching the dirt beneath him. The yellow warrior turned to look down, his flesh ripped and torn and ended where his legs were supposed to be. He noted how he could spot a few of his organs beneath, pulsating. Sergeant Andoria approached, the checker pattern on his shoulder pauldron turned pink and black with the blood of the enemy, and the yellow of his armor turned almost a brown because of it. The Sergeant stood for a moment, looking at the stricken form of his brother through the blue lenses of his red striped helm before taking a knee. There was no anger, no relief, just pity and lamentation. His brother of three hundred and fifty years was dying, rapidly. The Sergeant rested an armored gauntlet on Zhaltek’s own checkered shoulder, nodding his head down to the dirt. The stricken Lamenter did not need psychic gifts to know his brother had tears running down his face, his eyes closed. Zhaltek sighed and turned his head, his chin now painted in his blood as he did so.

 

‘You know, brother. I wish to keep going. Death is not for me, nor is this…incident.”

 

He gripped the earth beneath visibly tighter, his fist shaking as he did so. The ground parted beneath, slick with his red fluid.

 

“My work is not yet complete, my wrath not settled!”

 

The Lamenters eyes were shining with fervor, his teeth clenched, albeit stained pinkish.

 

“If I am to die, let it be violently, not lying the dirt! What would Lord Phoros think of this!? He still leads the advance“. His brow furrowed when he spoke his next words.

 

“Lord Sanguinius will not be shamed, nor will the Emperor!” The last word was given a thicker and stronger voice, as an orbital barrage lit up the edge of the horizon, its impact sending shock-waves through the damaged earth, mildly buffeting the warriors in the battle still raging.

 

Sergeant Andoria stood from his kneeling, his helm raised, clearly taken aback by something.

 

“Then perhaps you will fight again, brother”, spoke a voice.

 

Zhaltek pressed his form upward a bit, and snarled in pain as it hurt him to do so, more blood leaking out in thick rivulets. He was due to bleed out rather quickly, his blood refusing to clot from such a terrible set of wounds.

 

“Your will is not done?” asked Sanguinary-Calix Maalin. His armor was a resplendent white, bedecked in silver and checkered in numerous places. The Apothecary walked gracefully, his every step one of art.

 

"No” coughed Zhaltek. “It is not”. He felt his hearts slowing, his breaths becoming incredibly ragged.

 

“Very well. I will do everything in my power to restore you.” The Calix member took to one knee where Sergeant Andoria was but moments ago, his white knees staining red in the bloodied dirt.

 

With a gentle nod, Maalin pressed his palm to Zhaltek’s forehead, and the Lamenters world went black.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The rebels of Jagdea Prime believed themselves safe from the wrath of the Astartes. They were sealed in their bastion, its Interceptor-Lascannon and automated Heavy Bolters having driven off their enemy before. It was only when the guns fell silent did the squad inside become uneasy. Ghivald clutched his rusting lasgun tightly, his tattered hung lightly as the chains on it rattled together. His gasmask had ripped free hours before, and he and Vurtis were the only one without them. The air was breathable, he mused, why keep the damned things on anyways if you had them? His temporary distraction did not last though, as an explosion rocked the great bastion in which they had all sheltered. A muffled cry of panic came through from the floor above, and that was the last warning Ghivald would ever get. The wall exploded in a great burst of light.

 

The metal melted as if it were not even there, the hole gaping. Corisk and Numin were incinerated instantly, their form s turned to ash before they could so much as register their demise. Ghivlad never liked them anyways. But this, was bad.

 

Out of the smoldering hole, a great plume of smoke obscured all. That is, until something smashed through the entirety of the wall. The squad didn’t even get a chance to get back up and return fire when it smashed through. Ghivald caught it all in an instant. It was massive, easily three times the size of a man ,and nearly as wide as the walls themselves. It’s cannon roared, and three more members of the squad disappeared instantly. The wave passing over the rebel troopers blinded most, and those who were not killed by it, hit the ground, on fire, blind, or both. The yellow walker boomed spectacularly, it’s “voice” echoing of steel and reverberation.

 

“Feel the wrath of a son of Sanguinius! A warrior of the Emperor!”

 

A giant claw of steel smashed another rebel to the ground before tearing into the wall. Muffled screams and cries filled the air as blood splashed across the ruined wall’s surface.

 

“The Lamenters have come!”

 

The cannon roared again, vaporizing even more of the trapped troopers as they struggled to flee or regain themselves.

 

“Know the rage of Naraitus Zhaltek!”

[Mr Yellow]

I like that, I assume it's some fluff to go with a new dread for your Lammies. Only thing I would say is that only the greatest warriors get stuck inside a dread, granted gibbing a defiler is impressive, I'm not sure that would qualify him for it. Irrespective the piece flows nicely.

[Taranis]

Good story. 350 years of service counts for something!