Post by Lex on Feb 22, 2007 2:55:53 GMT -5
Short story following space marines of the white consuls chapter as the battle the forces of Tau. Contains violence and some gore.
I have no onwership of any of the GW material.
Throughout the days, his burning light shall guide you, and your soul shall be saved. Against the old, against the young, against yourself. His light shall destroy the darkness, and his followers will fight, and they will know no fear!
Grand Chaplain Daedron of the White Consuls
*
“Chaplain, your presence has been requested.”
A gauntlet clenched, crushing a small trinket in the over powering grasp. The gold symbol was tossed away, falling almost silently onto the cold dead grass. Feet turned the gargantuan body around, stabilizers fought a noiseless battle to keep the man on his feet.
The chaplain bowed his head, and then dismissed the marine with a wave. He grabbed his Crozius from its place beside the temporary stone altar, and stalked after the retreating marine.
His skull helm grimaced in the dim light; the recesses became valleys in the long shadows. The sounds of shallow breathing were amplified by a vox caster on the marines shoulder.
He entered the ruins that his men were waiting in, muttering a prayer that reverberated between the stone columns, disturbing millennia old dust from its rest. He brought his gauntlet high, and fired a stream of promethium from his wrist mounted flamer. All around him men stood, white armour and electric blue pads clashing with the archaic pile they were in.
One stepped forward, standing proudly upon the wrecked base of a pillar, his terminator armour crackled with energy from its power field. He too raised his hand, this one clutching a power sword.
“Marines of the White Consuls, your numbers are few but your will stands strong. Form up before your chaplain and receive his blessing, for tonight you will bring the fist of the Emporer to the fell xenos of this world!”
Without a word spoken the three squads formed up before the chaplain, twenty five mouths held shut by respect and awe. Each knelt before the ancient, heads down and still as the dead landscape around them.
The terminator armour hit the ground with a crash as the commander leapt down, taking a few purposeful steps forward and joined his men. Beneath his helmet the chaplain smiled, and set about sowing the resolve of the Imperium within the marines.
His work was slow, but it served a good purpose. Never had the Consuls failed under his baleful gaze. Not once had they fallen back from the threats that attempted to crush their minds and bodies. His blessing served as a new weapon to smite their foe with.
Throne did they need it.
After the duty was done the chaplain himself knelt and led two of the squads in prayer, whilst the other ran checks on all the weaponry. His words had more power than a blow from his Crozius, and he knew it was equally effective.
His words ran on for an hour, reams of quotations and advice sewn into a tapestry of courage. He stood as he finished, and they stood with him. With a final silence they raised their hands to the stars, saluting the creation of one so marvellous that he deserved their praise.
The moment of serenity was cut short by the whine of xeno wings.
“Take cover and direct targets!”
The marines fanned out, finding the best cover in seconds. From behind a crumbling statue the chaplain listened to the brutal efficiency of their shooting as the hum of wings slowly died down. He heard a louder whine overcome the others and took no time in stepping out from cover.
The lead vespid hissed as it swooped low, its ornate golden armour ignoring the bullets of the marines. It gargled its amusement as the chaplain raised a fist. A burst of flame later and it was a pile of ash on the floor, kicked aside by a mighty adamantium boot.
The chaplain walked through the centre of the fray, occasionally swinging his weapon at an insectoid creature. The combat took a dazzling few minutes, and by the end not a single marine had fallen.
The commander kicked a vespid away, grabbing its weapon from the ground. He stared at it for a second, his helmet analysing the composition. He laughed, his armour shaking.
“Beware marines; these weapons are a genuine threat. We shall advance to the cliffs tonight, that way we can make a proper assault in the morning.”
The words of their chaplain lashed the vespids as the marines departed, cutting into the heart of a watcher before it departed to inform its superiors of the events that had taken place.
*
Weep no more, for we shall prevail. Let no minor setbacks harm your will, but let them heighten your prowess. A marine shall crush, a man shall fight, but worlds may still die. See the work of your enemy, and channel that hatred into every bullet and blow your strike upon your foe.
Roboute Guillemon
*
“Shas’la, for the final time, are you sure?”
The fire warrior cast his eyes aside, fearing the gaze of the ethereal. The wispy figure of Aun Naraka took a step forwards, his hands gripped the fire warrior’s shaking shoulders, crushing the armour with a hidden strength.
A cloudy tear curled down the fighter’s cheek, but Naraka ignored it. He let the fire warrior have a few more seconds of silence then back handed him, smashing the Shas’la to the floor. Between gasps and staggered breaths the fire warrior spoke.
“Aun, the vespids mounted a surprise assault from the north and east. All forty three entered the ruins but… but none survived long enough to slay. Despite their weaponry not a single human fell, and after the sixtieth beat of my heart all were dead, though not a single man!”
Aun bore over the fallen warrior, his dead eyes burning a hole in the pore soul’s mind. The small sight implant on the Ethereal’s forehead twisted its view up and down the shivering body. A hand reached down and seized the Shas’la, holding him inches from the Aun’s snarl.
“What of Drek? What of the Vespid commander? His value is far beyond yours!”
The word ‘dead’ started to form on the warrior’s lips, but was halted by the thin blade the Ethereal drove into the Shas’la’s side. With a slight widening of his eyes the fire warrior died, and the Ethereal dropped him. He stared around the cave, despising every inch of unchecked nature.
The galaxy had a long way to go before the Tau could cultivate it, for now such disgustingly natural formations as this rock would be left. The Ethereal stepped through the thin curtain that covered the entrance, and smiled at the Kroot shaper that stood behind it. He noted the Kroot’s flaring nostrils.
“Shaper, I will not take it unkindly if you wish to consume that body.”
The kroot shook his head, is gruff voice giving a barked reply.
“He weak, we not eat weak. Eat strong only, yes?”
The Ethereal nodded, hiding his disgust for the Kroot’s cannibalistic tendencies. He threw an arm around the Shaper’s shoulders and guided him down the narrow passage in the rock.
The Shaper was silent, staring directly ahead as the Ethereal took him to the entry passage. The nostrils widened again as the shaper smelt the body of the dead vespid. The Piranha crew saluted and left down a different passage, leaving the two leaders alone.
Aun turned to the kroot.
“The vespids are dead.”
The kroot bent down, sniffing. It detected a scent it vaguely recognised, and had a fleeting vision of vast killing machines chewing through the grey vespid ranks.
He bit into the vespid’s neck, drawing blood so he could read the past more clearly. More flashes of power, violence. Insurmountable faith in the power of war. He stood, licking away the dribbles of blood on his jaws.
“Strong, big and strong. Good to eat, where? My kroot shall kill, slay the man things!”
The Ethereal noted the greenish tint to the kroot’s skin, remembering as he always did the warboss who had fallen to the Shaper’s blade. Strength beyond comprehension lay beneath that quivering and anticipated mass, but it was bestial power, uncultivated. It too would be cleansed once the grand conquest was complete.
The kroot was barking, its troops clambering up the tunnel to join it. The Ethereal forced his smile to widen, but he doubted that the shaper bought it. He clicked his thin tongue and the Piranha pilots returned from their wait below.
“These men shall take you to the last location of the humans. I shall send some Shas’la to the cliffs, where I do not doubt that the men are headed. We will trap them, crushing them like Fi’ta!”
The kroot couldn’t smile, but if it could the gash across its face would be wide. With a howl it charged out of the caves with its men, leading them in cries of madness in the plains outside where they would build to frenzy.
The pilots waited until the kroot had gone them approached their Aun. He dropped the smile, his sight giving implant turning to watch the two men. His milky eyes glistened for a second as he anticipated the news the pilots would give.
“You have set the charges?”
The pilots nodded. Naraka laughed loudly.
“The kroot will be dead before the sun rises! Ha, fools. The tau shall complete this fight on their own, without the disgraceful presence of unneeded allies!”
The tau turned and left, and the Ethereal pressed the small communicator in his ear.
After a second a voice spoke.
“Aun?”
The Ethereal felt the cogs of the great tau war machine quiver at his touch, ready to move at his command.
“I want all the crisis and broadside teams scouring the cliffs east of here, slaying everybody they see.”
“Sir there is a kroot party hunting there.”
The Ethereal thought for a second, and then poured out the lies that would crush his alliance with the kroot.
“Kroot are as alien as the humans. Slay everybody.”
With a hiss of laughter he deactivated the link, and stepped out into the cool night air.
*
Endure my chid, endure. Do not let the wild squealing of heretics destroy your sense. An enemy can be its own enemy, exploit that. When they produce the blade, make the blade plunge into their own hearts!
Chapter Master Dr'ikos of the White Consuls
*
The cliff face was sheer, almost impossible to climb. The chaplain noted the height with annoyance, a scout party would have to find a route up or the captain wouldn’t be able to follow them up. The terminator armour was a curse here, and the chaplain raged inside at his own lack of forethought.
He looked around himself and shouted Sergeant Cassio over. The sergeant grabbed three men and ran over, knowing what the chaplain was thinking.
“A scouting party sir?”
The chaplain nodded, deactivating his vox caster.
“Two, one for a route up, and the devastators to go up separately and find a firing position.”
The sergeant nodded, sending one of his men away to tell the commander and then stalking off into the darkness. After a few seconds the Cassio’s scouts and the devastators were beginning their journey.
The chaplain turned, and staggered back as a bullet smashed into his helmet. His vox caster roared back into life.
“Kroot, hunt and slay!”
The wild yells of kroot caught his ears, and he spotted the dozen creatures at the top of the hill the marines had just descended. He yelled his anger and ran, shots bouncing off his armour. Marines surged up around him, white imperial lightning ready to impact with another foe.
A marine fell with a yell, another crumpled as a bullet penetrated his helmet. The deaths fuelled the chaplain’s power, throwing him even faster at the kroot. The marines around him fell back, unable to keep up with the pace.
“Imperial lightning!”
The Consul chaplain leapt onto the nearest kroot, grounding him and firing a stream of fire into two hesitant kroot. His weight crushed the one beneath him, and his Crozius slew another. He yelled in pain as a kroot blade cut his arm, the offender leapt forwards and held the arm back.
The crozius swung around, batting the kroot away as the chaplain stood. The marines arrived and cut a bloody swathe through the kroot with their chainswords. The fight was over in seconds, but another marine fell to the kroot counter battle.
“Return to your commander, I shall send the souls onward.”
The marines left and the chaplain set about with the rites of the dead. His resolve hardened to iron as he stared over the three men who had fallen.
"Snipers, a tactic for the filth who could not fight justly!"
*
A death is a death, do not let the loss of one man cut you down and bring you to your knees. Instead use it as a beacon, an example of what you are against. Then, when the stone hits the steel, the death shall be repaid, and the blood returned.
The Emporer of Mankind
*
Shaper Charl sniffed the ground around the ruin, sensing the power of the men who had fought here. His kroot were scattered around him, getting used to the scent and devouring the corpses of the vespids. The shaper felt his back quiver as wings formed beneath the surface, and he knew his kroot felt the same.
His flock would soon be airborne. Then he would show the Ethereal the power of the Tau. His hand passed over the earth, and noted the disturbance of the soil. He spotted the hoof prints of the Tau and followed them, growling as he saw what they led to.
“Kroot, leave ruin now!”
The kroot hesitated, and slowly began to depart. There was a shattering explosion from the far end, and another… soon the entire complex was blazing. Kroot yelled with pain as they staggered and died in the flames.
Upon the hill the two tau pilots left, assured that their commander’s work was done.
*
See how they fight amongst themselves! See how the Imperium would be if we fell to the longings of our own selfish desire. Strive onward, make tomorrow better than today! Once the galaxy is cleansed, and you yourself fall to battle, pox or age, you will die in a paradise second only to a place beside the Emporer!
Chaplain Vushla of the White Consuls
I have no onwership of any of the GW material.
Imperial Lightning!
Throughout the days, his burning light shall guide you, and your soul shall be saved. Against the old, against the young, against yourself. His light shall destroy the darkness, and his followers will fight, and they will know no fear!
Grand Chaplain Daedron of the White Consuls
*
“Chaplain, your presence has been requested.”
A gauntlet clenched, crushing a small trinket in the over powering grasp. The gold symbol was tossed away, falling almost silently onto the cold dead grass. Feet turned the gargantuan body around, stabilizers fought a noiseless battle to keep the man on his feet.
The chaplain bowed his head, and then dismissed the marine with a wave. He grabbed his Crozius from its place beside the temporary stone altar, and stalked after the retreating marine.
His skull helm grimaced in the dim light; the recesses became valleys in the long shadows. The sounds of shallow breathing were amplified by a vox caster on the marines shoulder.
He entered the ruins that his men were waiting in, muttering a prayer that reverberated between the stone columns, disturbing millennia old dust from its rest. He brought his gauntlet high, and fired a stream of promethium from his wrist mounted flamer. All around him men stood, white armour and electric blue pads clashing with the archaic pile they were in.
One stepped forward, standing proudly upon the wrecked base of a pillar, his terminator armour crackled with energy from its power field. He too raised his hand, this one clutching a power sword.
“Marines of the White Consuls, your numbers are few but your will stands strong. Form up before your chaplain and receive his blessing, for tonight you will bring the fist of the Emporer to the fell xenos of this world!”
Without a word spoken the three squads formed up before the chaplain, twenty five mouths held shut by respect and awe. Each knelt before the ancient, heads down and still as the dead landscape around them.
The terminator armour hit the ground with a crash as the commander leapt down, taking a few purposeful steps forward and joined his men. Beneath his helmet the chaplain smiled, and set about sowing the resolve of the Imperium within the marines.
His work was slow, but it served a good purpose. Never had the Consuls failed under his baleful gaze. Not once had they fallen back from the threats that attempted to crush their minds and bodies. His blessing served as a new weapon to smite their foe with.
Throne did they need it.
After the duty was done the chaplain himself knelt and led two of the squads in prayer, whilst the other ran checks on all the weaponry. His words had more power than a blow from his Crozius, and he knew it was equally effective.
His words ran on for an hour, reams of quotations and advice sewn into a tapestry of courage. He stood as he finished, and they stood with him. With a final silence they raised their hands to the stars, saluting the creation of one so marvellous that he deserved their praise.
The moment of serenity was cut short by the whine of xeno wings.
“Take cover and direct targets!”
The marines fanned out, finding the best cover in seconds. From behind a crumbling statue the chaplain listened to the brutal efficiency of their shooting as the hum of wings slowly died down. He heard a louder whine overcome the others and took no time in stepping out from cover.
The lead vespid hissed as it swooped low, its ornate golden armour ignoring the bullets of the marines. It gargled its amusement as the chaplain raised a fist. A burst of flame later and it was a pile of ash on the floor, kicked aside by a mighty adamantium boot.
The chaplain walked through the centre of the fray, occasionally swinging his weapon at an insectoid creature. The combat took a dazzling few minutes, and by the end not a single marine had fallen.
The commander kicked a vespid away, grabbing its weapon from the ground. He stared at it for a second, his helmet analysing the composition. He laughed, his armour shaking.
“Beware marines; these weapons are a genuine threat. We shall advance to the cliffs tonight, that way we can make a proper assault in the morning.”
The words of their chaplain lashed the vespids as the marines departed, cutting into the heart of a watcher before it departed to inform its superiors of the events that had taken place.
*
Weep no more, for we shall prevail. Let no minor setbacks harm your will, but let them heighten your prowess. A marine shall crush, a man shall fight, but worlds may still die. See the work of your enemy, and channel that hatred into every bullet and blow your strike upon your foe.
Roboute Guillemon
*
“Shas’la, for the final time, are you sure?”
The fire warrior cast his eyes aside, fearing the gaze of the ethereal. The wispy figure of Aun Naraka took a step forwards, his hands gripped the fire warrior’s shaking shoulders, crushing the armour with a hidden strength.
A cloudy tear curled down the fighter’s cheek, but Naraka ignored it. He let the fire warrior have a few more seconds of silence then back handed him, smashing the Shas’la to the floor. Between gasps and staggered breaths the fire warrior spoke.
“Aun, the vespids mounted a surprise assault from the north and east. All forty three entered the ruins but… but none survived long enough to slay. Despite their weaponry not a single human fell, and after the sixtieth beat of my heart all were dead, though not a single man!”
Aun bore over the fallen warrior, his dead eyes burning a hole in the pore soul’s mind. The small sight implant on the Ethereal’s forehead twisted its view up and down the shivering body. A hand reached down and seized the Shas’la, holding him inches from the Aun’s snarl.
“What of Drek? What of the Vespid commander? His value is far beyond yours!”
The word ‘dead’ started to form on the warrior’s lips, but was halted by the thin blade the Ethereal drove into the Shas’la’s side. With a slight widening of his eyes the fire warrior died, and the Ethereal dropped him. He stared around the cave, despising every inch of unchecked nature.
The galaxy had a long way to go before the Tau could cultivate it, for now such disgustingly natural formations as this rock would be left. The Ethereal stepped through the thin curtain that covered the entrance, and smiled at the Kroot shaper that stood behind it. He noted the Kroot’s flaring nostrils.
“Shaper, I will not take it unkindly if you wish to consume that body.”
The kroot shook his head, is gruff voice giving a barked reply.
“He weak, we not eat weak. Eat strong only, yes?”
The Ethereal nodded, hiding his disgust for the Kroot’s cannibalistic tendencies. He threw an arm around the Shaper’s shoulders and guided him down the narrow passage in the rock.
The Shaper was silent, staring directly ahead as the Ethereal took him to the entry passage. The nostrils widened again as the shaper smelt the body of the dead vespid. The Piranha crew saluted and left down a different passage, leaving the two leaders alone.
Aun turned to the kroot.
“The vespids are dead.”
The kroot bent down, sniffing. It detected a scent it vaguely recognised, and had a fleeting vision of vast killing machines chewing through the grey vespid ranks.
He bit into the vespid’s neck, drawing blood so he could read the past more clearly. More flashes of power, violence. Insurmountable faith in the power of war. He stood, licking away the dribbles of blood on his jaws.
“Strong, big and strong. Good to eat, where? My kroot shall kill, slay the man things!”
The Ethereal noted the greenish tint to the kroot’s skin, remembering as he always did the warboss who had fallen to the Shaper’s blade. Strength beyond comprehension lay beneath that quivering and anticipated mass, but it was bestial power, uncultivated. It too would be cleansed once the grand conquest was complete.
The kroot was barking, its troops clambering up the tunnel to join it. The Ethereal forced his smile to widen, but he doubted that the shaper bought it. He clicked his thin tongue and the Piranha pilots returned from their wait below.
“These men shall take you to the last location of the humans. I shall send some Shas’la to the cliffs, where I do not doubt that the men are headed. We will trap them, crushing them like Fi’ta!”
The kroot couldn’t smile, but if it could the gash across its face would be wide. With a howl it charged out of the caves with its men, leading them in cries of madness in the plains outside where they would build to frenzy.
The pilots waited until the kroot had gone them approached their Aun. He dropped the smile, his sight giving implant turning to watch the two men. His milky eyes glistened for a second as he anticipated the news the pilots would give.
“You have set the charges?”
The pilots nodded. Naraka laughed loudly.
“The kroot will be dead before the sun rises! Ha, fools. The tau shall complete this fight on their own, without the disgraceful presence of unneeded allies!”
The tau turned and left, and the Ethereal pressed the small communicator in his ear.
After a second a voice spoke.
“Aun?”
The Ethereal felt the cogs of the great tau war machine quiver at his touch, ready to move at his command.
“I want all the crisis and broadside teams scouring the cliffs east of here, slaying everybody they see.”
“Sir there is a kroot party hunting there.”
The Ethereal thought for a second, and then poured out the lies that would crush his alliance with the kroot.
“Kroot are as alien as the humans. Slay everybody.”
With a hiss of laughter he deactivated the link, and stepped out into the cool night air.
*
Endure my chid, endure. Do not let the wild squealing of heretics destroy your sense. An enemy can be its own enemy, exploit that. When they produce the blade, make the blade plunge into their own hearts!
Chapter Master Dr'ikos of the White Consuls
*
The cliff face was sheer, almost impossible to climb. The chaplain noted the height with annoyance, a scout party would have to find a route up or the captain wouldn’t be able to follow them up. The terminator armour was a curse here, and the chaplain raged inside at his own lack of forethought.
He looked around himself and shouted Sergeant Cassio over. The sergeant grabbed three men and ran over, knowing what the chaplain was thinking.
“A scouting party sir?”
The chaplain nodded, deactivating his vox caster.
“Two, one for a route up, and the devastators to go up separately and find a firing position.”
The sergeant nodded, sending one of his men away to tell the commander and then stalking off into the darkness. After a few seconds the Cassio’s scouts and the devastators were beginning their journey.
The chaplain turned, and staggered back as a bullet smashed into his helmet. His vox caster roared back into life.
“Kroot, hunt and slay!”
The wild yells of kroot caught his ears, and he spotted the dozen creatures at the top of the hill the marines had just descended. He yelled his anger and ran, shots bouncing off his armour. Marines surged up around him, white imperial lightning ready to impact with another foe.
A marine fell with a yell, another crumpled as a bullet penetrated his helmet. The deaths fuelled the chaplain’s power, throwing him even faster at the kroot. The marines around him fell back, unable to keep up with the pace.
“Imperial lightning!”
The Consul chaplain leapt onto the nearest kroot, grounding him and firing a stream of fire into two hesitant kroot. His weight crushed the one beneath him, and his Crozius slew another. He yelled in pain as a kroot blade cut his arm, the offender leapt forwards and held the arm back.
The crozius swung around, batting the kroot away as the chaplain stood. The marines arrived and cut a bloody swathe through the kroot with their chainswords. The fight was over in seconds, but another marine fell to the kroot counter battle.
“Return to your commander, I shall send the souls onward.”
The marines left and the chaplain set about with the rites of the dead. His resolve hardened to iron as he stared over the three men who had fallen.
"Snipers, a tactic for the filth who could not fight justly!"
*
A death is a death, do not let the loss of one man cut you down and bring you to your knees. Instead use it as a beacon, an example of what you are against. Then, when the stone hits the steel, the death shall be repaid, and the blood returned.
The Emporer of Mankind
*
Shaper Charl sniffed the ground around the ruin, sensing the power of the men who had fought here. His kroot were scattered around him, getting used to the scent and devouring the corpses of the vespids. The shaper felt his back quiver as wings formed beneath the surface, and he knew his kroot felt the same.
His flock would soon be airborne. Then he would show the Ethereal the power of the Tau. His hand passed over the earth, and noted the disturbance of the soil. He spotted the hoof prints of the Tau and followed them, growling as he saw what they led to.
“Kroot, leave ruin now!”
The kroot hesitated, and slowly began to depart. There was a shattering explosion from the far end, and another… soon the entire complex was blazing. Kroot yelled with pain as they staggered and died in the flames.
Upon the hill the two tau pilots left, assured that their commander’s work was done.
*
See how they fight amongst themselves! See how the Imperium would be if we fell to the longings of our own selfish desire. Strive onward, make tomorrow better than today! Once the galaxy is cleansed, and you yourself fall to battle, pox or age, you will die in a paradise second only to a place beside the Emporer!
Chaplain Vushla of the White Consuls
