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Blood Claws Saga


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I demand a cameo! Preferably where I headbut an ork Nob and kill him with it.

 

And on the sly comment about my Tales taking too long. I have college too. I building a wooden mech. Its taking alot of my time...

 

Itll be up soon, dont worry.

 

 

Hey, if he gets one I want one too :P Just make sure I'm not driving anything. Last time that happened I wrecked a speeder, which I believe belonged to the dark angels if memory serves me...

 

 

Did it have tassles on the handles and unicorns and wizards painted on it?

And on the sly comment about my Tales taking too long...

Oh, nothing of the like intended. Anything worth doing takes time to do, and I'm sure your saga will be excellent. All that in the original post was to say this story is just to pass the time.

 

I demand a cameo! Preferably where I headbut an ork Nob and kill him with it.

You know that's asking for it...

 

 

 

"Well this sucks," commented Donut. Their first combat had been something of a fizzle from the beginning. The company had dropped in to relieve the ork siege of the Trazos 2 Forge World. The claws had heard stories of the greenskins, and expected a good scrap from square one. So far though, they had crouched in a muddy ditch while the nearby Whirlwinds and Predators fired off shells into the distance. Boring as feth.

 

"Thank you for that sentiment, does anyone else have any useful comments?" Mavs girl glared around the trench, daring anyone else to speak up. Postal snorted at the implied threat and said, "Sure, the food sucks too."

 

Mavs girl growled and was about to smack her offending pack mate when a loud roar demanded attention. The swelling sound was so enormous it nearly drowned out the nearby cannon fire. Arez poked his head over the trench and observed in his normal laconic manner, "Looks like the orks decided to show up after all."

 

Whatever xenos warboss commanded the alien horde on this dirt ball had apparently tired of the artillery duel and decided to try his hand at an infantry charge. A wave of greenskins monsters ran across no man's land, ignoring the continuous fire from the imperial positions. These were the first xenos the young claws had ever seen, and they were a sight indeed. Huge, barbarous, wielding massive close combat weapons, some of which even a marine might have struggled to lift. Almost as one, the pack revved their chainswords, eager for the fight. Before they could charge though, their pack leader's voice came over the vox.

 

"Hold position until they close, whelps! Let the artillery boys kill as many as they can before we finish the job." Jonas was with the other half of the pack on the other side of the artillery park, but still managed to exert some control on the young wolves. They sagged back down into the trench, frustrated at the lack of action. Arez fired off a few pistol rounds at the closing horde, but was stopped by Forte. "Don't waste ammo. They'll get here soon enough."

 

*****

 

Iron Priest Firenze looked up from fixing the Predator's sponson ammo feeder. A squad of ork warbikes, well ahead of the horde, were bearing down on the vulnerable artillery pieces. The priest swore under his breath, took up his hammer, and strode to meet the xenos. Autocannon and heavy bolter fire retargeted and put down four of the bikers, but a half dozen barreled onward. The leader, a huge beast bearing a power klaw, roared a challenge to the priest. In response, Firenze fired a single round from his bolter and destroyed the bike's front tire, wrecking it.

 

The nob stood from the remains and rushed forward, one arm a shredded mess. The priest met his charge with a downward swing that smashed the creature's klaw as thoroughly as his bike. Left with no other weapons, the ork headbutted Firenze. Given the iron priest's helm, this was normally a losing proposition, so Firenze matched the blow with full confidence of killing the ork. However, the nob had extensive bioniks work done on its cranium. These metal bits were forced through the creatures brain, killing it outright, but they tranferred enough kinetic force to crack the Iron Priest's helm and knock him unconsious. He fell on the field, the rest of the creature's warband bearing down on him. Fortunately for Firenze, there was an over eager pack of blood claws nearby.

 

*****

 

Donut, who had been watching over the trench, broke in over the pack's bickering, "Hey, the Iron Priest needs help."

 

Postal came over to confirm. "Yep, about to be in a whole world of hurt he is. Lets go."

 

"Stormclaw said to wait." Mavs girl put in.

 

"Screw that. Jonas isn't here, and he wouldn't leave a brother to the orks anyway." Arez put in with some force. Mavs girl considered it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, screw it, lets go."

 

The pack leapt out of the trench, roaring and firing their pistols. The orks hadn't actually stopped to finish the priest, being too focused on the tanks. The claws met them in the middle of the field in a fierce melee. One biker crashed into the Greenhorn, scattering whelp, ork, and bike across a wide area. The rest dismounted, either voluntarily or involuntarily by bolt rounds. The fight was fierce, but the axes of the Fenrisians proved fiercer, and all the orks were downed.

 

Mavs girl helped a grumbling Arez to his feet, then looked over at Postal, who was staring morosely at his hand. "You all right?" she asked.

 

"Yeah," he grumbled, "Its just this stupid ork took off two of my favorite fingers." The whole pack laughed at that. A new noise drew their attention. Out of the firestorm generated by the artillery rolled a massive tank. The huge battlewagon, impervious to ranged weapons, steamed toward their lines, its massive deathrolla churning up the earth.

 

"Crap," said Donut, "How do we stop that?"

 

Forte looked over at the fallen iron priest, who was only now coming around, and said, "Oh, I have an idea."

 

*****

 

"You did WHAT with his thunder hammer?" Jonas roared at gore coated whelps.

 

"We threw it at the tank," Forte responded matter of factly. At his leader's furious expression, he shrugged and said, "Well, it wasn't like Firenze was using it."

"You did WHAT with his thunder hammer?" Jonas roared at gore coated whelps.

 

"We threw it at the tank," Forte responded matter of factly. At his leader's furious expression, he shrugged and said, "Well, it wasn't like Firenze was using it."

whahaha, inspired by arjac per chance? :devil:

"You did WHAT with his thunder hammer?" Jonas roared at gore coated whelps.

 

"We threw it at the tank," Forte responded matter of factly. At his leader's furious expression, he shrugged and said, "Well, it wasn't like Firenze was using it."

whahaha, inspired by arjac per chance? :)

Hahaha love it. Good to see you have full control of us :)

"You did WHAT with his thunder hammer?" Jonas roared at gore coated whelps.

 

"We threw it at the tank," Forte responded matter of factly. At his leader's furious expression, he shrugged and said, "Well, it wasn't like Firenze was using it."

whahaha, inspired by arjac per chance? :woot:

 

ROFL! Brilliant!

This rather short as it was meant to be attached to the above portion, but I was really tired while writing it, and that was an excellent stopping point anyway. So, I proudly present, Firenze's Revenge.

 

 

The pack was sitting in the field meadhall, which the wolves erected whenever they were on long deployment. They had had a tough fight, and were now engaging in a well earned celebratory feast. The orks had struck three times that day, giving the young bloodclaws more than enough excitement. They all nursed wounds, and Skoll and Elithren were spending the night in the medical tent. But they were victorious, and that was all that mattered.

 

Fights, wagers, card games, and new drinking contests were occuring every few seconds. Donut, despite being rammed into early, was holding his own against Nrthstar and Bergelmir, matching them each drink for drink. Jonas was presiding over an eating contest between Forte and Arez, keeping one eye on how many aurochs ribs each consumed and the other on the doors. It was loud in the meadhall, the prefab walls doing nothing to diminish the sound of the crackling fire and jubilant whelps. Because of this, only Jonas noticed the doors swing violently open and a power armored figure come striding in.

 

"Time for me to go lads," he told the claws, picking up his tankard and plate with haste.

 

"Where are you off to?" Arez asked, surprised. His pack leader grinned, never a good sign for the claws.

 

"The corner next to Warhorse. Try to make a good show of it."

 

As the pack leader left Arez turned to Forte. "Whats all that about?" Before his pack mate could respond, Firenze, who Jonas had seen enter, walked over to the bloodclaws' table and slammed one massive axe into the middle of it.

 

"So which one of you whelps lost my thunder hammer?"

 

*****

 

Jonas poked his head into the medical tent, grinning, and addressed Elithren and Skoll.

 

"I hope y'all are talkative, because I brough you some company!"

 

He came in, a bloodclaw slung over each shoulder, the rest of the pack limping or being carried behind.

He came in, a bloodclaw slung over each shoulder, the rest of the pack limping or being carried behind.

Who was out?.like forte said its bad to be knocked out :D

Well, since you asked, I guess that means you and forte volunteered to be the unconscious ones. ;)

He came in, a bloodclaw slung over each shoulder, the rest of the pack limping or being carried behind.

Who was out?.like forte said its bad to be knocked out :D

Well, since you asked, I guess that means you and forte volunteered to be the unconscious ones. ;)

Oh 'ell no.

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