The Impossible Marine

[Yaj]

This story, unlike my other two on going stories, is complete as far as the overall story arc is concerned.

 

Even so I am open to suggestions on how to improve it.

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'Why?' it is a question Ranoc of the Thousand Sons often asks himself in moments of rare peace. Precisely 3.4 metres away is Memion, he prides himself in knowing exactly where, what and why things are as they are. Mortals would call it hubris perhaps but Ranoc knows such people are fools. He is a sorcerer lord of the Crimson King and knows that those lesser beings who say such things are small minded individuals who should be pittied. Then why is it that the ignorant religious massess of the imperium hold sway? Why are those who strive to bring the imperium back to the glory days of the Great Crusade persecuted and slain?

 

Memion, who is crouched over the corpse of Hirdol, turns to regard him with a some what concerned expression. Nodding in understanding Ranoc gestures to the seven Rubricae standing at perfect attention to remain on guard lest the enemy attempt to attack. As he walks he takes a moment to listen to the world around him in a near by tree two song birds happily sing there little tune oblivious to the death below, a shrew darts between tuffs of long blood stained grass carrying seeds in its mouth and all the while a hawk circles overhead.

 

'Did he find it?' The voice that issues from his battle-helm is oddly soft almost melodious when his form would suggest something else entirely. Ranoc stops by the head of Hirdol's body and looks down upon Memion.

 

'Indeed, lord, indeed he did' Memion pauses seemingly reflecting on his next words 'alas the enemy was faster...the artefact is destroyed'.

 

'A pitty' replies Ranoc in sadness as he turns his gaze to the bodies of the Imperial Fist assault squad that lay mixed with those of seven rubric marines. An eighth stands exactly 1.1 metres away from its master its armour slightly dented but seemingly no worse for wear.

 

'By such small fortunes does the galaxy turn' the quote from some ancient Terran play snaps Ranoc out of his reverie.

 

'Tell me, apothecary' for a moment a flash of bitterness creases the brow of Memion as he recalls his former duties.

 

Ranoc ignores it and continues 'Why is our brother dead? why did he not forsee this attack?' Memion says nothing as he places his hands upon Hirdols helm and removes. The face beneath is of a waxy quality a sign that Hirdol was falling foul of mutation.

 

'Perhaps it is good that you died' Ranoc mutters to himself as he watches Memion place his armoured hands upon the dead mans face. A moment later and the former apothecary convulses twice and then the eyes of a dead man open and words pour forth from decaying lips.

 

'Fists!, they think can take my life? ha!' lifeless hands twist making gestures of magik though none is forth coming

 

'Do arms, brothers!!' comes the rallying call as Hirdols soul is temporaily pulled back within its flesh confines. Ranoc walks away prefering not to watch Memion at work as he heads back towards his rubricae. He notes that the birds have ceased there singing and for a moment wonders why...

 

'No!!! not possible' the words come in unison from both the living and the dead. Ranoc turns at the cry in time to see Memion stagger backwards and clatter into the surviving rubricae and then the impossible indeed does occur. For faster than it should be able to move the Rubric Marine draws its combat blade and stabbs Memion thrice through the heart, head and neck.

 

Ranoc senses no sentinent life in side the Memions murderer and yet it looks upon him with bitterness and hatred. For once Ranoc, the man who prides himself on knowing always how to act, can do nothing except stand in mute shock.

 

'Why?' the sound utters from the impossible marine it has a quality of dry earth. The sound causes Ranoc intial shock to be overcome and he raises his hand towards the rubricae as he would any other enemy.

 

With a single word he sends bolts of fire into his foe's chest causing it to stagger backwards. With another gesture he raises dozens of small stones covering the ground and sends them shooting of, short lived fires ignite in the air, as they punch through the Rubricae and then it falls. Smiling to himself and making a mental note to have the mortal slaves aboard his ship retrieve the empty shell for study Ranoc strides quickly back to his own squad of rubric marines.

 

The birds start to sing again and Ranoc finds that he is happy to hear this last sound even as the bolt that kills him penetrates the back of his helm....

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The impossible marine walks with out ceremony over Ranocs exploded brain matter, past the dead sorcerers rubric squad.

 

It walks though as if it were flesh and blood.

 

It walks though with purpose though its movements are stiff as if it is unused to the act.

 

It walks through towns and vilages the people flee or hide from its gaze.

 

It walks through factories and churches always traveling in a perfectly straight line.

 

It walks slaying only those who cross its path.

 

It walks knowing on some level that those who could threaten its exsistance are dead or long gone.

 

It walks and legends spring in its wake, mothers across the nameless world use it to frighten children into obdience.

 

It walks for nine hundred ninety-eight days and with every step utters a single question

 

'Why?'

 

On the nine hundred ninety-ninth day it stops and it is no longer alone for now it is followed by thousands of mortals each repeating the rubricae's question. 'Why did my father die?', why must we work for scraps when our lords earn riches for nothing?, why must we follow the God-Emperor when he does nothing to help us?' all these and thousands more scream forth from mortal throats.

 

On the dawn of the one thousandth day the Rubricae and his followers are confronted by the worlds defence forces in there entirety. As the chimeras and half-track gun trucks race towards them the impossible marine issues his question once more.

 

'Why?' and then the two lines meet and a world is plunged into civil war...

 

Of the impossible marine there is naught but dust in the wind.

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I think some lines could do with some work but I am quite pleased with the overall story.

 

Comments and critique are welcome.

 

Thanks

[Inquisitor Kravin]

I love it!

 

If you want it to be perfect then I could point out a few spelling and grammatical errors but that's really just nitpicking. I love it because I'm a bit confused by it and yet at the same time I don't want to know any more! The characters are intriguing, yet at the same time it works perfectly as a little grain of story and mystery in a vast desert where every grain of sand is a mystery.

 

Why?

 

For those who know 40k the answer is simply, "Why not?"

[Yaj]

Thank you.

 

I orignally thought of doing this story with an entire army of rubric's turning on there masters but thought it worked better with just the one. What you wrote above is pretty much what I wanted to portray in the story.

 

I am pleased with the how I've written it as it is both complete and leaves room for exploration if I so desire in the future.

 

Which is how any good 40K story should be in my opinion.

[Yaj]

I'm going to write a prequel focusing on Hirdol.

 

I shall edit this reply later to include it.

 

I hope you enjoy it.

 

thanks

 

Edit - Changed my mind.

[AngelOfDeathXIII]

Very nice, sometimes the sentences seem a bit long though, that makes the story a little bit hard too follow... I love the idea though..

 

'Why?' (Cus I can <_<)

[Yaj]

Thanks.

 

It could probably to with some minor editing.