The Last Saga: Journeys of the Sixth

[Dominicus]

Pusle rifles blazed at the battlements of the tower. Tau Fire Warriors surged around their tanks in the thousands, only to be cut down by disciplined lines of bolter fire laid down by the Spaces Wolves 6th Company. Grey Hunters roared in defiance as they sprayed vengeance upon the foe. Blood Claws howled fervently, and ambushed Tau Pathfinders as they tried to outflank the Wolves of Fenris. Long Fangs, stoic in their grim work, rained heavy weapons fire upon the alien horde, destroying enemy tanks and heavy weapon emplacements.

 

While each Space Wolf played their own role in the defense of the Therendor Bastion, the last line of defence between the Tau invaders and millions of terrified citizens, at their head stood a figure of power, a figure of amazing might.

Fredryk Brennaxe, Wolf Lord of the 6th, stood at the forefront of the defensive line. His hammer, mag-locked to his back, was covered in blue alien blood. His power sword was in two pieces, one hale jammed into the view-slit of a dead enemy tank, the hilt half still in his hand. His storm bolters raked the Tau infantry, not a single bolt missing a target. His Wolf Guard stood vigilantly around his, their Terminator armor dented, scratched, and in some places, torn open. Only one brother, Jundar Alekr, lay unmoving behind the wall of armor and flesh formed in front of him by his brethren Wolf Guard. It had taken two krak missiles and a direct hit from a Tau light tank to take him down, but even now he clung to life, if not barely.

 

Brennaxe growled in anger as he watched a squad of Blood Claws, led by a veteran Grey Hunter, gunned down mercilessly as they themselves were ambushed by more Tau Pathfinders and Fire Warriors.

"Captain, the left flank is falling, we cannot hold them!" a voice yelled out through his vox. Bjorn Bergthor, the Grey Hunter responsible for commanding the defense of the left flank, sounded desperate and angry as he hurriedly made his report. " We can't hold them. I've already lost all the Blood Claws, we have three Grey Hunters, along with two Fangs. Be prepared for when they break through."

 

"Acknowlegded. Fight with courage, brother. Brennaxe out." The Captain sighed. Another twenty-five sons of Fenris, gone to join the Great Feast with the Emperor. The Wolf Lord looked to his skald, Kirrek Frostrunner, and nodded grimly. A unspoken agreement passed between the skald and his Wolf Lord, a decision made when their extraction Thunderhawk had been gunned down and the strike cruiser Hammer of Fenris had been forced to retreat to the outer edges of the system by the Tau fleet, its empty cargo bays filled with hundreds of thousands of refugees. Hyenor Redblade, an Astartes just as much as Brennaxe, and Captain of the Hammer of Fenris, had sent an astropathic distress signal to the Great Wolf Ragnar Blackmane, requesting immediate reinforcements. The Great Wolf had responded with intense haste, personally leading four full battle companies of Space Wolves, including his own personal Wolf Guard. However, the fleet was over two days standard Imperial time away.

 

That was three days ago.

 

The Wolves of the 6th trapped on the surface, desperately trying to hold the Tau back as Redblade made rapid dashes in-system to carry more survivors to safety, had slowly fallen back, inch by inch, making the xenos race pay in blood for each steps of ground they gain. In the beginning, they had the advantage, utilizing surgical strikes and ambushes to cripple Tau advances. But, the Tau were not an ignorant race; they learnt from their mistakes, and little by little, more warriors started falling as Tau Devilfish troop carriers ambushed the ambushers, and enemy aircraft began strafing any densely-covered area with pulse beams and tactical nuclear bombs before advancing.

It had come down to this, with the Wolves of Brennaxe's Great Company bunkered down in the last human-controlled bastion on the planet. The bastion blocked entrance to the only bridge to enter or exit the last surviving town of Triumph IV, and all of its remaining, stranded citizens.

 

Brennaxe checked the sickle clip on his storm bolter. Fourteen rounds were left in the clip, not inculding the one racked into the chamber. He had ten spare clips, each with fifty rounds. Then, he was down to his bolt pistol, with only five clips of twelve, and his master-crafted artificer blade Bloodlorn, along with his Astartes-standard combat blade. His Wolf Guard was in similar condition. Each brother racked a round into the chamber of his gun, and mouth a personalized prayer to the Allfather and Leman Russ, Primarch of the Spaces Wolves Legion.

"Here the come again, my lord," one of Brennaxe's snipers snarled over his vox-link. "Firing now."

 

Ten high-power shots rang out, one for each Wolf Scout. Ten Tau keeled over in their charge, dead from high-calibre boltrounds to their alien brains. But the horde did not slow. The trampled the bodies of their dead comrades, hastily rushing from cover to cover, exchanging fire with the hidden Scouts.

Bolters opened fire as he Tau rushed into range. The fierce barks of the Space Wolves' guns vaguely reminded Brennaxe of the Fenrisian wolf. Brennaxe felt a pang of sadness stab at his twin hearts, knowing he would never see his home again. But he was resolved to his duty. If I can't go home, Brennaxe thought, then I might as well take as many of these bastard xenos with me.

 

His storm bolter raked the front line of xenos, and each bolt round found a target. embedding itself into the body of a Fire Warrior before exploding. Cyclone missiles streaked from the silos built into his Terminator suit, and detonated against Tau infantry carriers and tanks. The Tau rush, however, did not slow; they had the advanage of numbers and cover. Brennaxe's brothers started to fall all around him, pulse shots tearing through the Astartes power armor as easily as it was paper. Battlesuits crashed down onto the bastion's battlements, gun blazing as the Sons of Russ desperately fought to keep the invaders at bay. As his bolter clicked dry, the Wolf Lord holstered it, and drew his hammer.

"Let the fun begin," Brennaxe growled as he charged the battlesuits.

 

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Brennaxe panted with exhaustion, his hammer hanging loosely in his right fist. His eyes gazed at the carnage around him. Ten battlesuits lay in various states of dismemberment and destruction. Blue blood from the Tau infantry that had folloowed the battlesuits into the breach stained Brennaxe's grey armor. His face was covered in his own clotted blood, his hammer caked with blue blood, and his helmet was gone. His ornate Terminator armor was pitted and scarred, with an enormous crater in the middle of his chest where a tau rocket had struck him. But the most noticeable difference about the Wolf Lord was right shoulder. A Tau soldier had attacked Brennaxe from behind, and drove a power blade through his shoulder. Brennaxe had slain the Fire Warrior, and the rest of his squad. In the end, only Brennaxe and Kirrek still stood,the remainder of his Wolf Guardretinue mixed in amongst the bodies of the dead.

 

Brennaxe chinned his vox switch, opening a channel to every surviving Wolf left in the Bastion. "All to me, now." Brennaxe sttod silently, solemnly awaiting the arrival of his remaining brothers, Kirrek Frostrunner standing at his side, gazing over the forces of Commander Firestrike as they prepared for another, and likely the last, assault on Therendor.

 

Wolves started to emerge from the shadows around Brennaxe, Grey Hunters, Long Fangs, and Blood Claws all intermixing. All ten scouts jumped down from their viewpoint on the top of the bastion. Brennaxe did a quick head-count, a sighed inwardly. Thrity-six souls remained; ten Scouts, fourteen Grey Hunters, two Long Fangs, and ten Blood Claws. Two lagged behind, carring an armor yellow form between them, heads down. Brennaxe pushed past the other assembled Wolves to meet the Blood Claws. As he cast his gaze upon theyoung Wolf in the middle, a feeling of utter loss pushed even harder on his weary mind.

 

The Blood Claw was covered in hair. A snout protruded from his face, his hands and feet were paws, long vicious claws curling from them. The Wulfen raised its head to return the stare of the Wolf Lord, its yellow eyes begging for release. Brennaxe nodded, then turned and walked back to the front of his force.

 

He turned back to face his men. "Brothers, this day we face a grim prospect. We are stranded here on this warp-damned planet, but we will not die in vain! Our brothers come to our aid, but I fear the will come too late. We must take this fight into our own hands, and assist our brothers for when they arrive. We are Spaces Wolves. We are Sons of Fenris, and we will not fail!"

 

Brennaxe's words immediately took hold of the surviving Wolves, and they started to howl fiercely. Brennaxe turned away, and reloaded his storm bolter. Racking a bolt round into the chamber, Brennaxe lunged forward, yelling praises to the Allfather and Russ. His valiant warriors followed him, the Wulfen bound ahead of his brothers to tear the foe apart with his claws. As the distance closed, the Wolves became involved in a swirling melee, and were soon lost to the sight of fearful citizens hiding on the outskirts of Therendor.

[Dominicus]

Epilogue

 

The ash-covered ground crunched under his boots, leaving enormous footprints in his wake. He stopped, stooping to pick up a boltgun lying beside a Space Wolf corpse. Ragnar Blackmane brushed the soot from the gun, uncovering the name of the owner of the gun, and revealing the identity of the massive armored form that lay prone at the Great Wolf's feet.

 

Fredryk Brennaxe had died in the midst of battle, surrounded by his brothers, in combat with a Tau battlesuit. "No better an end for so brave a warrior," Blackmane grumbled, placing the bolter back at the side of Brennaxe's corpse. Behind him, he heard footsteps approaching. Turning, he already knew who approached him, and he grimly smiled.

 

"Kirrek Frostrunner," Blackmane boomed, barking a harsh Fenrisian laugh,"I can't tell if you are a lucky bastard, or an unlucky one."

"Neither can I, lord," Frostrunner replied. "But the same goes for my brothers here that survived with me." Blackmane nodded in agreement, looking behind Frostrunner to see two Blood Claws in a deep conversation with the lone surviving Grey Hunter of Sixth Company. Their faces were covered with blood, much of it their brothers and their own, but they still stood, their wounds patched by the Chapter apothecaries when reinforcements had arrived.

 

Blackmane's force had touched down one day after Brennaxe had led his forces in a glorious last stand in the face of Commander Firestrike's vast Tau force. They were gladly met by a weary Kirrek Frostrunner, two exultant Blood Claws named Bjorn Fireclaw and Hjorth Greymane, and a scarred old veteran Grey Hunter called Berek Stormclaw. There had been much rejoicing among the rescue force over the recovery of a few of their Fenrisian kin, a small light glowing in the darkness of the hearts of every Space Wolf.

 

Blackmane called out to the other three, and the jogged over to join Kirrek and Ragnar. "You three have fought valiantly, and for that you shall be rewarded." Ragnar looked directly at the two Blood Claws. "Hjorth, Bjorn, in light of your bravery and immense courage, you will be elevated to Grey Hunters."

 

The Great Wolf paused, letting his words sink in, then added, "Tonight." The two young Space Wolves grinned, their fangs showing and gleaming in the sunlight. They stepped back, and as they did so, Berek stepped forward. He sank to one knee before his Chapter Master, before rising to stand at attention.

 

Ragnar gazed up and down the Grey Hunter, then boomed another harsh laugh. "Yes, you will do," the Great Wolf roared. "Berek Stormclaw, as of now, you have the captaincy of the Sixth Great Company!" The assembled Space Wolves watching howled their approval of the promotion. Berek nodded, the grizzled veteran of countless campaigns obviously overjoyed, though he let none of his brothers see it.

 

Ragnar laughed heartily, before joining in the howls of victory with his Wolves. The road ahead of Berek, Kirrek, Hjorth and Bjorn would be a long one; the Sixth would have to be rebuilt completely, but Ragnar held no doubt in his twin hearts that, if anyone could do it, Berek Stormclaw could.

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The Blood Claws gazed at Kirrek expectantly, waiting to hear more. The roar of the Thunderhawk's engines droned loudly, but the young Wolves didn't seem to notice, too deeply engrossed in the tale told to the by the skald.

"Is that it?" asked one Blood Claw, his eyebrow's arching upwards.

"For now," answered Kirrek. "Ready yourselves. We have a war to fight." Kirrek checked his heads-up display on his helm. All of his systems were fully functional. His bolter's scope was linked to his visor, and Kirrek tested the connection by sighting on each Blood Claw's head.

 

Satisfied, he looked up and saw Berek standing in the middle of the rows of seats. "Ready yourselves!" he boomed. The Blood Claws snarled eagerly, their choler up at the prospect of facing Traitor Marines. Bolters were checked and double checks, combat blades were intently inspected, and prayers to the Allfather and Russ were murmured by all, each one personalized.

 

The Thunderhawk slammed to the ground, and the bay door opened, letting the petulant smell of Chaos seep in. Kirrek stood and moved to the front of the bay to stand beside his Wolf Lord. He turned to face the Blood Claws, who were all standing and eager to be unleashed on the foe. Kirrek smiled behind his helm.

"For the Emperor and Russ!" Kirrek roared, before turning to follow his captain out of the Thunderhawk, leading the Sixth into battle once more.

[AngelOfDeathXIII]

and?

[Dominicus]

and?

Sorry, my computer was logging me off, so I had to stop at an untimely point. Will finish in just a moment.

 

Done.

 

Just wondering, does anyone think that I should continue with this and make a collection of 6th Company short stories?

[AngelOfDeathXIII]

I enjoyed reading it ;) I would like more short stories about the 6th Company ;)

[Dominicus]

Short Story #2: This Is How We Do It

 

Berek Stormclaw dived to the side, narrowly avoiding a well-placed swing of a blunted practice blade. He landed on his shoulder, using his momentum to roll to his feet facing Kirrek Frostrunner, his own blade held before him. The two veteran Space Wolves circled each, the cheers and howls of the Blood Claws surrounding their practice cage ringing in their ears.

 

Berek blocked out the sounds and focussed solely on his opponent, his skald. Kirrek stood in a conventional fighting stance, his feet spread widely and his body crouched to lower his center of gravity. Stripped to the waist, Kirrek was truly a sight to behold. An even fifty years older the Berek, the skald bore the scars of hundreds of campaigns on his body. His fangs, a genetic trait inherited by all of the sons of Russ, were bared in a forever-present half-smile, an enormous scar spreading diagonally from his temple to the bottom of his neck causing his mouth to stay half-open. His eyes were a deep grey, with the fury of the stormiest oceans of Fenris reflected in them.

 

The Wolf Lord watched as the muscles in his skald's shoulders rippled, betraying the skald's intentions before he made his move. Berek feinted with a low cut to his left, before spinning on his right foot to slam the flat edge of the blade into Kirrek's exposed ribcage. The force of the blow cracked the fused bone of Kirrek's Astartes form, and the skald was sent spinning across the practice cage. Berek lunged at Kirrek, his opportunity for a killing blow presented to him like it had never been in the entire three hour long sparring session.

 

The Sixth Company Captain pounced on Kirrek's chest, his blade at his skald's throat. Kirrek looked at his Wolf Lord and smiled, dropping his sword in surrender. The Blood Claws around the cage howled jubilantly and began to cheer Berek's name as the filed from the practice area.

 

Berek leaped backwards off of Kirrek, extending his hand to help his brother up. The skald grasped his hand and hauled himself to his feet, grinning the whole time.

"I almost had you," Kirrek muttered in an attempt to sound melancholic even when his face betrayed him with his amusement-filled eyes.

"You could only wish," laughed Berek, reaching the door of the cage and unlocking it, letting himself drop to the floor . Kirrek dropped down behind him, and the two raced the five hundred meters across the practice area to the weapons rack. They sat down on the benches, servitors appearing from service niches in the walls offering trays filled with the finest Fenrisian ale. Both Kirrek and Berek grabbed a pint from the trays, toasting heroes of the past, the Allfather, and Russ before drinking from their ale horns.

 

Just as the two Spaces Wolves began to let their bodies relax after the intense practice session when they heard the sound of military-standard boots hitting the floor of the practice area. Though they could not see who it was that had just entered the area, they could tell by the number of steps and the weight of the steps that the arrival was not Astartes.

 

In answer to their guess, a Chapter bondsman sprinted around the corner, his muscular frame glistening with sweat. He skidded to a halt several meters before the two Space Wolves, bowing deeply while trying to suck in air.

"My-My Lord," the bondsman stuttered. "The Captain has a message for you."

"What is it? Will he be congratulating me on my victory over Kirrek?" Berek laughed, slapping his skald's shoulder. The bondsman shook his head. "No lord, it is bad news."

 

Berek stopped laughing and stood facing the Fenrisian. Though the bondsman was enormous by most mortal standards, he was dwarfed by Berek's two-meter tall physique. "Speak then," Berek replied gruffly.

 

The bondsman stared directly into the Wolf Lord's eyes, and said," The Aurais system has come under attack." The Wolf Lord returned the bondsman's stare, and instantly knew that the deckhand was holding something back.

"By who?" Berek growled. "Guilliman's boys just finished a cleansing of the orks there. Have more orks arrived?" Berek found the possibility of orks from other clans arriving to help the orks of the Aurais system highly unlikely.

 

The bondsman was visibly shivering now, but the practice area was quite warm. Berek realized the deckhand was shivering in fear.

"No, my lord. The orks are dead. They are now under attack by..." The bondsman stopped and took a deep breth. "By-By the Thousand Sons, my lord," the bondsman murmured in so low a voice only the enhanced hearing of a Space Wolf could have heard it. Berek nodded, and gruffly dismissed the bondsman as he strode across the practice area to the intership vox mounted on the wall.

 

He flicked on the vox so it was broadcasting to all stations of the ship. "Wolves of the Sixth, make ready for war; Wolf Guard, War Room in one hour. Berek out." He slammed the switch of the vox off, and swiftly ran from the practice area, Kirrek hot on his heels.

++++++++++++++

 

The Alpha Legionnaire lay flat on the rock, quietly observing the orks below him. The greenskins ran through the streets of the city below him, bellowing in feral roars, their guns barking at random and their blades hacking and whirring as they slashed through the air. Terrified Auraisians ran in fear, carrying their children with them, desperately trying to outrun the tide of green death bearing down upon them. Lasguns fired in vain as poorly trained PDF units fought to provide a rearguard for the fleeing citizens.

 

Herin Grolus grinned behind his helm. The Chaos Astartes stood and turned sharply, jumping the ten metres down from the rock with ease. As he began to walk away, a lasbolt hit him in the shoulder. He stopped dead in his tracks, and slowly turned around. A shaking PDF trooper stood before him, lasgun in hands. His face was covered in ork blood, and his uniform was in tatters, but from the remaining insignia, Herin guessed he was a high-ranking officer- captain, maybe even general. But as Herin reached for his bolt pistol, strapped to his leg, the commander threw down his gun and knelt before the Alpha Legionnaire.

"Please help us!" the Auraisian wailed. "Save our families, and our cities! Please!" The commander looked down for a moment, before looking back up at Herin, staring straight into red eye lenses of the Chaos Marine.

"I...We...will do anything." As he said this, an entire platoon of PDF emerged from the rocks around Herin. The Alpha Legionnaire smiled behind his helm, his eyes alight with malice.

"Anything, you say?" Herin asked the commander.

"Yes, anything," the commander promised. "Just save our lives."

 

Herin reached up and unlocked his helm, lifting the horned helmet off to reveal a deeply scarred head with no hair, and eyes that were alight with mischief. "I can save your lives," Herin began, before grinning and adding, "but not your souls."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sorcerer stood before the wall carved with ruinous sigils of his gods. The human at his feet was twisted and deformed beyond any possible doubt that they were dead, millions of cuts covering the mortal's body. The Thousand Sons Chaos Astartes heard the heavy footfall of an Astartes behind him, and turned from the wall. Hel'thren, one of his own brethren, stood before him.

"What do you want?" asked the sorcerer, the slightest hint of impatience seeping into his voice. Hel'thren seemed not to notice, however.

"Sorcerer, the trap has been laid. The product of Russ' genes now head this way through the warp. We predict they will arrive in five days according to this planet's time," Hel'thren reported. The Marine's voice was gruff, unusual for a Thousand Sons Chaos Marine. He had been amongst the survivors of the burning of Propsero, and was present when Ahriman cast his rubric, but he had not fought in many long years, prefering to stay in the warp as often as possible.

Now, thought the sorcerer, he will blood himself in the blood of the Wolves.

"There is something else as well, sorcerer," Hel'thren added.

"Speak then," the sorcerer said. Hel'thren hesitated for the briefest of seconds, before saying, "There is a visitor here to see you."

 

The sorcerer looked directly at Hel'thren, trying to delve into his mind to find the attributes and properties of his visitor. But the Chaos Astartes before him was well learned in the art of protecting his mind, and the sorcerer found nothing.

"Who is it?" inquired the sorcerer.

Hel'thren stopped for a second, before quietly saying,

"Alpha Legion."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Herin stood facing the mortals. Hundreds of thousands of Planetary Defense Troopers were filed before him. Many had already marred their uniforms with symbols of the Four Gods, their faces subject to a small amount of ritual scarring as they began their ways down the Eightfold Path.

I did only promise them their lives, Herin though devilishly. He glanced behind him, seeing hundreds of his fellow Alpha Legionnaires standing with him, their bolters held in hand. Many looked at the cave entrance to Herin's right with slight discontent, visible in their body language through their defiled armor.

This sorcerer had best show himself soon, before I must drag him out here, Herin thought impatiently. As soon as the though had crossed his mind, however, the sorcerer emerged.

 

Followed by close to two hundred other Thousand Sons, led at their forefront by another Thousand Son, who bore significantly more detailed armor than his brethren. As the sorcerer stopped moving towards Herin, the apparent leader moved forward to stand beside the sorcerer.

 

Herin approached the sorcerer warily, flanked on each side by his two lieutenants, Ren'thr and Drutus. Both were Astartes who's names were feared across the galaxies, with whole worlds that had burned at their hands in the names of the Gods. Herin halted a few short metres in front of the sorcerer. He could tell the sorcerer had little patience for him.

[AngelOfDeathXIII]

Sounds great thus far! And might I add: Damn those PDF Guardsmen!

[Dominicus]

Sounds great thus far! And might I add: Damn those PDF Guardsmen!

Yeah, gotta throw in a few traitors here and there. Sat tuned for more soon!

[Taranis]

good story so far. Hungry for more!

[Dominicus]

good story so far. Hungry for more!

Thanks Taranis.

 

More to come soon.