Daemon Planet

[Azekai]

Hail frater, C&C always welcome!

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Sargent Hiram Gouttard stepped out of the dreadclaw assault lander Ravening One and lazily traversed the deserted square with his bolt pistol.

 

“Drop zone is clear- no sign of hostiles.” His voice was a drawl, made thick and slurred by deteriorating mucus membranes.

Behind him, the six other members of squad Anemia clambered down from the fanged access maw of the lander. The hulking plague marines fanned out across the blasted landing site, their every movement shadowed by massive, villous flies. Each one was a giant, armored in corroded adamantine and riddled with oozing corruption. Atrix was whispering slurred prayers to the spirit of his plasma gun as he unslung the notorious weapon, and Jaeth was revving his chainsword fitfully as he loped forward. The buildings that crowded around them were ancient and crumbling, their once-smooth curves and gentle slopes cracking into pained, dying shapes. As the others formed a rough perimiter, Clave sidled up to Gouttard, his corroded flamer lovingly cradled in his taloned hands like a babe.

 

“Any sign of the good Librarian?” Clave’s fevered grin was evident in his eager speech patterns despite his face being hidden by the verdigris deathmask of his helmet.

 

“No,” Gouttard growled. He was unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Nonetheless, our mission is clear.”

 

Long range augers had determined that there were a handful of likely human settlements, holed up in a series of bunkers and bomb shelters that dated back to the Crusade. These last few pathetic beings had somehow survived the hideous transformation of Skedren X into a daemon world. Now the Death Guard had arrived to claim the warp-scarred planet and finish the job.

 

“Maybe, but you don’t want to leave him too long to his own devices . . . remember back on Rexii Primus? How he killed all the techpriests and smeared all their cogitators and STC templates with offal and-”

 

“Yes, I was there.” Gouttard snapped. “Draeg, any sign of Katarh?”

 

Katarh, their former commander, had transformed into a bloody-minded daemon shortly before the Siege of Terra. He was now precious little more than an instinct-driven monster, but Mortarion had decreed that he lead the remnants of the 3rd Great Company.

 

Draeg, their nascent psyker, stared up at the churning ochre and crimson soup that served as the sky of Skedren X, his clouded eyes the color of intermingled blood and milk above his fanged half-helm. After a moment, the witch started and turned to address his superior.

 

“He is here, Sergeant, and is already separating the wheat from the chaff. Fear the darkness, but even more so the tomb of iron.”

 

“Indeed.” Gouttard’s ragged lip curled. Draeg’s portents had once been lucid, his presence a boon to squad Anemia; but lately he had begun to speak in metaphors and riddles. He was swiftly becoming more trouble than he was worth, in Gouttard’s opinion.

 

Draeg nodded to the east. “Squads Giardia and Toximia also are drawing close to the target.”

 

Gouttard didn’t need warp-sight to tell him that. Even though they were invisible through the unnatural cloud cover, the approaching dreadclaw assault boats screamed like daemons in torment. The Death Guard’s attack was split into three prongs, so the defenders would either have to concede ground or divide their meager defense force. Once they achieved access to the enemy’s passages, their fate would be sealed: each of the plague marine detachments were carrying potent archaophage bombs recently liberated from the thrice-cursed forgeworld of Rexii Primus.

Gouttard spat a stinking glob of phlegm into the red-tinged dust. Yes, they would all die, and he was going to enjoy it.

 

“Death Guard, advance,” he growled thickly to his inferiors. Clave eagerly scuttled up to take point, the guttering muzzle of his flamer snapping from side to side like a predatory beast scenting prey. The rest followed after, the slow heavy tread of their footsteps and the ubiquitous drone of the flies the only sounds disturbing the silence as they wound their way deeper into the hive. Their goal lay two kilometers ahead in a great man-made canyon nestled in the shadow of the towering skeleton of the dead city. What had once been the great capital of Skedren X had been reduced to a dry, dusty carcass; the once-elegant spires that still stood were empty, gutted by wind and warp-fire. Gouttard found them reminiscent of fossilized ribs of nameless primordial beasts. His thoughts were interrupted by a cackle of glee from his pointman.

 

“Sergeant, contacts!” Clave shouted with joyful enthusiasm. He had momentarily stowed his flamer and held a primed blight grenade in either hand. Two hab-blocks ahead was a large warehouse or manufactorum, its rockrete face warped and pitted. Spilling from its many yawning gates and low windows were a score of twisted creatures, clad in tattered rags and waving ill-kept weapons. Even at a glance Gouttard could tell that each and every one of them were hideously deformed- some were little more than a profusion of extra limbs or jaws, while others seemed nearly human but for the lack of eyes or legs. The mutants’ ululating howls rang and echoed through the daemon-haunted city as the plague marines advanced.

 

“Suppressive fire!” Gouttard roared as he let loose a string of murderous shots with his bolt pistol. One, two, three mutants were pitched into the dust, their twisted visages reduced to gory craters. The rest of squad Anemia followed suit, the intractable bark of their corroded bolters all but drowning out the gibbering screams of their victims. The plague marines did not bother to find cover, but continued forward to meet their foes, who seemed completely indifferent to the hail of deadly shells. Jaeth fired his shuddering bolter one-handed, the grating whine of his chainsword rising and falling spasmodically. With a howl of glee, Clave hurled a blight grenade into the dwindling charge, catching one unfortunate in the chest. The rusty grenade broke his sternum and lodged deep in his chest before detonating one agonizing moment later. With a muffled crump several surrounding mutants were shredded by tainted monofilaments. Atrix sighted down his plasma rifle and fired of a staccato burst of lethal energy that vaporized the last few stragglers, leaving nothing but twitching extremities cooling in the dust.

As squad Anemia closed with their fallen enemies, one of the creatures struck by the grenade propped itself up, and coughed out discolored blood before smiling up at the towering warriors and choking out a single word:

 

“. . . finally.”

 

Jaeth leaned forward and calmly caved in the wretch’s skull with a well-placed step.

 

“Keep moving,” Gouttard snarled as he reloaded, forcing the rusted clip into place. “Draeg, notify the others that we have encountered the enemy.”

[Rain]

Heh, I suppose this is a follow up to your post on the Nurgle board about plague marines never being protagonists. Anyway, very well done so far, it's very readable and descriptive and you seem to have quite a talent for prose, more so than many actual BL writers unfortunately enough. Only thing I would recommend moving forward if you keep at this story is to remember to focus on maybe 3 or so characters (like Gouttard, Clave, and Draeg) and try to flesh out their personalities, how they interact, and why they do what they do along with the obligatory shooting and explosions. Not easy, but it's what makes for good stories and I think that you have a pretty good handle on the traitor marine ethos and mentality to do it some justice.

[Azekai]

Thanks for the reply, Rain! You are right on about the characterization thread.

 

Thanks also for the advice on the character development, I think your analysis is apt. Honestly it was something I was/am struggling with, what with having 7 members of the squad and all. It is a little confusing having so many characters to keep track of and flesh out without tripping over myself. I am no Dan Abnett. :)

Some will inevitably get left out.

[Olis]

Interesting and well put together. If you are to continue with the story, however, I recommend divulging a distinct objective, rather than keep it nebulous, if this is an exercise in character development (if it isn't then ignore that). That way we can follow the trials and tribulations of the group and witness who they are and what they do.

 

By the way, the initial characterisation is very good - each member of the squad is their own individual and exhibits character traits separate to the others. Beware, however, of turning these individuals into one trick ponies without good reason. I can certainly see Clave being a bit demented and overeager for the foreseeable future with no problem but subtle allusions to why he's like that (and I do mean subtle if you don't go the route of explaining it outright somehow) will add depth to the character that would ordinarily be left in his pigeon-hole.