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Awesome. Although, titan combat is sooooooo slow. But necessary. To be honest, I don't think you drew the great gargants life out enough, but it's still great. I think you should do a chapter from the point of view of a space marine, or captain or w/e, then go back to gorsky dah boss.

Hmmm, I was thinking the great gargant's appearance was a little quick. Not to worry, there will be other opportunities. Incidentally, I'm thinking the 4th chapter will be a Space Marine special, and I'll see if I can improve a bit. Thanks for the comments!

Thanks for the awesome reads!

PART 4, CHAPTER IV: The Art of War

Inside Hive Hephaistos
Part I

The drop-pod rumbled and groaned, the force of atmospheric entry still shaking it's frame, and Haarek muttered another war-oath. He disliked these drops from space. Much better to have your feet on solid ground and risk the fire of the enemy, in his opinion, than risk these madcap dives. There was no honour in being blown out of the sky before you'd had a chance to get to grips with the foe. The altimeter above his head chimed, and he looked up. Three hundred metres to go. Haarek loaded his storm-bolter, and let his voice drown out the scream of the jets activating.
"Brothers, look to your weapons! Glory awaits!"
The rest of the Wolf Guard yelled back, war-cries and oaths of courage mingling as one.
The drop-pod slammed into the floor, the jets slowing it down just enough for it to survive the impact, and it's doors folded open. The harnesses of the Terminators released their grip.
"For Russ and the Allfather!"
Haarek charged out of the pod, and opened fire. The nearby greenskins were caught completely off-guard, not expecting such an audacious attack, and their hesitation was what killed them. Haarek's bolt rounds struck three orks, their heads and chests exploding as the ammunition detonated inside them. The rest turned, and began to fire back. Their shots were nowhere near as impressive, most of them missing. The few that did hit Haarek simply bounced off his armour, the suit protecting him from their fury. Brother Heimdall stepped forward, the barrels of his assault cannon rotating faster and faster. A second later, he pressed the trigger, and the gun spat forth a hail of bullets, shredding the greenskins to the left of their position. The rest of the Wolf Guard now joined the fight, and for the next few minutes, the air was alive with bullets and shells of all kinds as the two forces engaged each other in a bloody firefight.
Bloody, but short-lived.

Of the Wolf Guard, only Haarek and Jorim had been hurt, Haarek suffering a minor flesh wound due to a lucky shot into his arm, between the shoulder plate and the torso. Jorim had been hit in the leg by a high-calibre round, but was able to continue fighting, the armour more or less soaking up most of the damage. The orks had been wiped out, refusing to flee from the fight, and the large balcony the drop-pod had landed on was now empty. Nearby, the sounds of war still rang out, and Haarek knew the rest of his brothers were now engaging the enemy.
"With me, brothers! Be wary, these are close surroundings, the enemy may use that to their advantage!"
"Acknowledged, brother."
The Wolf Guard began to advance, scanning the area ahead for threats. After a few metres, the weak daylight gave way, replaced by a neon gloom as the Terminators entered the hive itself. Here, the surroundings were close, and the warriors found themselves hampered by the narrow streets and tight corners, around which an enemy could be waiting, unseen. The fighting sounded closer, now; Haarek guessed it could be no more than fifty metres away, though he thought it more likely to be forty, due to his enhanced senses. He could smell the cordite from the crude ork firearms in the air. Rounding the corner, he found his guess was right.

The street opened out ahead into a large square, clearly intended to be some sort of resting area originally. Now the trees and bushes had been destroyed, and the square was the scene of a vicious brawl. On one side, nearest to Haarek, the orks had thrown up barricades and gun nests of all kinds, and were using these to their advantage, setting up a murderous field of fire. Beyond that, Haarek could see the rest of the attack force, the Grey Hunters fighting valiantly but unable to close with the gun nests under such heavy resistance. With them, Brother Alric, a Battle Leader the Wolf-Lord himself had chosen for this mission, urged his men onwards, howling great cries of defiance and hate. Haarek answered his roars with a battle cry of his own, and began to charge into the unprotected rear of the ork lines.
"Aim for the gun nests, they're the key to the defences!"
Some of the greenskins turned, their attention drawn by the rumble of the Terminator's heavy advance, and having seen this new threat began to run at the Wolf Guard, their chunky handguns barking as they charged. Haarek felt the shots strike, scattering off his torso and legs, and activated his frost axe. The ancient weapon hummed, and sheathed itself in ice-blue fire. Behind him, he heard the telltale whirring of Heimdall's chainfist, and the deeper, bass hum of Jorim's thunder hammer.
"Fire at will! Bring them down!"
The Terminators fired at the advancing greenskins. Many went down, bolt rounds smashing apart limbs or removing heads. It was not enough. The orks charged on, and Haarek could see that they were going to reach him. He snarled. The orks would get more than they bargained for.
"Attack! Cut them down, brothers! For the Allfather!"
The Wolf Guard leapt forward, their combined weight shaking the ground as they moved, and ploughed into the charging orks. Haarek's blade lashed out, and a greenskin warrior crumpled, his torso sheared in half. A powerful blow slammed into his chest, and Haarek was forced back, the massive greenskin preparing for another strike. He parried the monster's next blow, sending it wide, and kicked it in the leg, feeling it's knee break with the impact. The ork dropped, howling, only to be silenced as Haarek put a bolter round through it's skull. The greenskins surrounded him, their axes and blades slicing down at his form only to be defeated by his armour. A sharp pain flared in Haarek's side; a lucky blow had caught in the gap of his armour's torso joint. He swang his frost axe, feeling the hint of resistance as it sliced through an orkish neck, and tried to maneuver himself back into the Terminator squad. He had been cut off; between him and Heimdall stood most of the greenskins who had attacked them. He could see Heimdall's chainfist punch through another enemy's ribcage, the whine of the blades only just audible over the battle. Another blow, this time in the shoulder joint. Haarek swore, and fired at point-blank range, the bolts carving through the surrounding foes. At this range, they did not have time to detonate, but their calibre ensured at least a few greenskins went down. A huge ork leader stepped from the crowd of warriors, and bellowed in challenge, his powered claw hissing as it flexed. Haarek howled in reply, and threw himself at the creature. His first axe-stroke went awry, deflected by the intervention of the beast's subordinates. The creature punched him with it's claw, and Haarek's breath was driven from his body by the force of the blow. He staggered backwards, narrowly avoiding the slicing stroke of those pneumatic talons, and attacked again, this time aiming for the shoulder of the giant warrior. The blade cleaved through the ork's flesh, tearing free a great portion of the muscle and narrowly missing the bone. The ork howled in pain, and kicked out, the blow striking ineffectually at Haarek's thigh. Sensing victory, he closed, and punched the greenskin in the face as it tried to attack again, feeing it's nose break.
"Die, you swine!"
With a yell, Haarek beheaded the ork sergeant.

Seeing the intervention of the Wolf Guard, Alric leapt up.
"Look, brothers! The mightiest of our kin have joined us! See how they crush the enemy!"
His warriors roared, their spirits bolstered by the bulky forms of the veteran Terminators.
"Now is our time! Up, brothers! Up! For Russ and the Allfather! Glory awaits!"
The Grey Hunters needed no more telling. As one, they rose, unsheathing chainswords and bolt pistols, and began to run at the enemy, oaths and curses filling the air. The orks on the barricades fired into the charge, but with a great many of their number busy stemming the Wolf Guard, they could not hope to stop the Grey Hunters from reaching their lines. Though warriors fell, their helmets breached by orkish bullets, the majority of the attack force remained on their feet.
Clambering over the barriers, the Space Wolves brought the fight to the enemy.

The orks surrounding Haarek wavered, torn between killing him and attacking this new foe, and Haarek seized his chance. With the servos in his armour groaning, he slammed his body into the tide of greenskins, cracking bones with the force of his tackle, and began to force a path towards Heimdall and Jorim. His frost axe sang as it sliced, shearing apart any greenskin brave enough to stand in his path. The blades of his enemies bounced off his armour, some shattering with the force of the swing. Haarek fought on. The skull of the ork next to him imploded, crushed in the grip of a powerfist, and Alric joined him in the fight. With him came the Grey Hunters.
The orks fought bravely, and many fought to the death. By the end, Haarek was breathing fairly heavily, his arms burning with the exertion of the fight. Not a single greenskin survived.
Alric clapped him on the shoulder guard.
"Well met, Haarek! You timed that nicely, would've had a hell of a time getting through that many of the buggers otherwise."
Haarek smiled.
"That so? Well, you can repay me with a pint or two after we finish this. Emperor knows I could do with a drink."
Alric laughed, and strode off, seeing to his squad. Haarek turned and found Jorim waiting for him.
"How far are we from the objective, brother?"
Jorim checked his auspex.
"Not too far now, lad. I'd say maybe a few minutes away, if you'd shift your arse faster."
Haarek laughed. The greybeard had a sardonic sense of humour, and Haarek liked this.
"All right, old man. Brothers, let's go, before Jorim's impatience gets the better of him."
The attack force set off, towards the centre of the hive, and the central manufactorum control.

Part two of Chapter 4 coming soon! Will Haarek and his brothers complete their mission? Stay tuned!

AWESOME! -drool-

Can't wait for the next part! How many times have I even said that now? xD

Darkvoidof40k wrote:AWESOME! -drool-

Can't wait for the next part! How many times have I even said that now? xD

...I...I don't know!

Seriously, now, it's very good that you like it so much. It's probably the reason I keep updating it!

In that case.

IloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourwork
IloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourwork
IloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourwork


^should have plenty of updates now!

PART 4, CHAPTER V: Die with Honour

Haarek checked his ammunition. He was running low; the orks were many in number, and he had expended a great deal of bolts in the fighting. His Terminator armour was chipped and in some places small amounts of the armour plating had been torn away. He had switched to his Frost Axe now, if only to conserve his ammo for when he needed it. Beside, him, Jorim lumbered, flexing his arms and giving his thunder hammer test swings.
"Bloody hell, it's been a while since we've had to fight so many at once."
Haarek smiled.
"We'll have earned our mead tonight, eh? Garulf, how far now?"
Garulf consulted his in-helmet auspex.
"Three hundred metres to the target, brother."
The Wolf Guard strode on, passing through darkened corridors towards the greenskin central control room. Here, the lights were weak and flickering, as the orks diverted power to their command hub, no doubt powering the communications network or some other piece of strategic equipment. It mattered little; Haarek knew his mission, and would not fail in it. Besides, he thought with a slight glow of pride, the senses of the Space Wolves combined with the auto-senses of their helmets made a mockery of the gloom.
At the head of the squad, Snarri halted, and held up a fist. Haarek contacted him over the inter-squad vox.
"What is it?"
"Movement ahead, eighty metres. Corridor opens up there into another one of them courtyards."
Haarek tensed.
"Brothers, enemy near! Advance!"
The Wolf Guard began to move faster now, powering up their combat weapons. They knew the corridors and courtyards of this place were enclosed, and made close assaults easy to pull off. It was best to be prepared. They broke into a run.
Forty metres away, Haarek saw what they were moving towards.
There were eight huge orks in the courtyard, and by the looks of them, they had been expecting trouble. Each one was clad in a massive exoskeleton, all steel and looted ceramite. Their armour dwarfed that of the Terminators, and Haarek saw that their arms ended in wide-bore guns and huge power shears. This would be brutal.

The first of the MegaNobz saw the Terminators and opened fire.

Haarek swore as the shots whipped past their target and smashed into him, the force nearly knocking him off his feet. He recovered, and ran faster, snapping off shots with his storm-bolter. Jorim and Heimdall followed him, Heimdall beginning to power up his chainfist. To Haarek's left, Garulf and Beorn unsheathed their Wolf Claws and charged forward, their war-howls echoing around the corridors.
The groups met, and all hell broke loose.

The first of the MegaNobz reached Haarek, and swung at him with a blow that would have crushed his torso to pulp. Haarek jerked out of the way, the shears of his enemy tearing across his breastplate and obliterating the aquila there. He snarled, his rage stoked, and hacked out at the beast, feeling his Frost Axe bite into flesh. The ork howled, it's gun arm nothing more than a shredded ruin, and flinched backwards. It was a fatal mistake. A mechanical roar blasted forth, and the ork's head was torn apart, shells flying at a stupendous speed from Heimdall's assault cannon disintegrating it's cranium. From the other side, Haarek heard Garulf's scream of rage. He turned, in time to see Garulf smash headlong into another massive ork, his claws raking across the chest and stomach of his opponent. The ork staggered, but recovered well, and punched forward, bellowing. Haarek could do nothing but watch as the massive blades were rammed through Garulf's chest, tearing through his internal organs and slicing through his spine.

Heimdall roared in fury and grief, and opened up on the nearest MegaNob, forcing the creature back with the force of the cannon's shots. Haarek parried as a third ork attempted to disembowel him. The strength behind the blow was staggering, and Haarek felt the servos in his armour strain to contain it. He responded quickly, retaliating with an underhand swing and ripping open his opponent's throat. The ork gargled, blood spraying from the gouge, and desperately tried to fend Haarek off, shoulder-barging him to the floor. He knew he had to get up; on the floor, he was immobile, and the ork could crush him easily even with the mortal wound in it's neck. Even as he struggled, he knew it would be too late. The beast stood above him, and rasped, an expression of agonised triumph written on it's ugly face, before raising it's shears for one last blow. The swing never landed; Jorim's thunder hammer smashed apart the ork's upper body.
"Bloody hell, young 'un, do I have to do all of your fighting?"
"Enough! get back in the fight!"
Haarek snarled, and rose to his feet, charging into the melee as Beorn and Heimdall held back the remainnig MegaNobz. Beorn's claws hacked apart another greenskin even as Heimdall pulled off the head of another with his chainfist. The last three enemies realised the game was up. They could not hope to stop the Wolf Guard from passing through to the control room, and they knew it. Even as Haarek realised their intent, the orks charged. Beorn was caught completely by surprise. He lashed out, scoring the face of one of his attackers and drawing a howl of pain from the victim, but it was not enough. The other Nobz tore him limb from limb. Haarek screamed a denial, and smashed into the rightmost ork, toppling him forward before burying his Frost Axe in the creature's back. Jorim blocked a frenzied punch with his storm shield, the claws slamming against the localised force field created by the relic. The old veteran responded quickly, crushing the attacker's chest with a snake-fast blow.
Now, there was only one left. Even as Haarek and Jorim had stemmed the counter-attack, Heimdall had used his superior firepower to good effect, tearing through the armour of yet another ork at point-blank range. The last MegaNob braced itself, and bellowed what seemed to be a challenge. Haarek accepted. He strode forward, an ugly grimace on his face. The ork bellowed again, focussing on the advancing terminator. It snarled, then, unexpectedly, began speaking in crude Gothic.
"Runt, I iz gonner Tear yer 'ead from yer body and eat it!"
"You'll be dead before you even take the swing."
"O Yerrr? Who say-"
The ork never finished his sentence. Haarek's Frost axe carved his skull in two.
"Move on, brothers, the objective is near."


Part VI coming soon; the big conclusion! What awaits Haarek in the command room?
P.S. I think I will see what happens to the guardsmen outside after this. After al, they are fighting off a combined Gargant/looted tank force...

I think it'd be cool if you do the epic warboss and buddies V Wolf Guard fight, and draw it out, as the warboss kills all of the wolf guard in turn - isolating and annihilating them each.

Maybe a paragraph to each Wolf Guard? Haarek the last, naturally.

This'd be a great way to show off the warboss' obscene strength and power!

But, don't actually write the killing blow

For instance,
Haarek closed his eyes and commended his soul to the Emperor, as the Ork delived the killing blow

or something like that

You should continue with the guard v epic large horde fight.

Then, do some pwnage'lly long post about the warboss jumping into the forefront of combat himself! That'd be awesome.

Wait, why the f*ck am I telling you what to do? You're the [tactical] genius!

[/enthusiasm]

* droools and makes a mess of my pants.... Now this just awesomsauce spiced pr0n if you ask me! WE NEED MOAR!!!!

Anshal wrote:* droools and makes a mess of my pants.... Now this just awesomsauce spiced pr0n if you ask me! WE NEED MOAR!!!!

QFT

I'd siggie it, but I have nowhere better to shove my sigbeasts.

Darkvoidof40k wrote:I think it'd be cool if you do the epic warboss and buddies V Wolf Guard fight, and draw it out, as the warboss kills all of the wolf guard in turn - isolating and annihilating them each.

Maybe a paragraph to each Wolf Guard? Haarek the last, naturally.

This'd be a great way to show off the warboss' obscene strength and power!

But, don't actually write the killing blow

For instance,
Haarek closed his eyes and commended his soul to the Emperor, as the Ork delived the killing blow

or something like that

You should continue with the guard v epic large horde fight.

Then, do some pwnage'lly long post about the warboss jumping into the forefront of combat himself! That'd be awesome.

Wait, why the f*ck am I telling you what to do? You're the [tactical] genius!

[/enthusiasm]

I'm thinking that Haarek and co. may not die in the control room. Mostly this is 'cause I think Gorskar is in that other hive at the mo (what was it's name? I should be able to remember this...) so they may be fighting his deputy (yet to be introduced, woo!) Of course, there's gonna be an epic confrontation at some stage, probably between the Boss and some of my lesser-used chapter, the Obsidian Tears. It'll give me the chance to introduce them as story members, and get their background in the conflict set out straight.
You may be interested to know that I used a modified Kill-Team game to decide how the MegaNob/WG fight played out, as I honestly didn't know if eight nobz was too many or not. This was the tarted-up result of that game.

Well, I think the wolf guard should be atleast reduced to, say, Jorim with a ripped off arm and a wounded Haarek. They get "emergencbibbleported" outa the command room at the moment of defeat. Write something like;

..and the orks' axe came crashing down, and it smashed into the ground. The 'umies were gone!

Summit like. I.e. nick of time escape! Even more awesomesausage than my last idea.

Awesomesauce for you, Gooooooooooorsky.

*waits*

Darkvoidof40k wrote:Well, I think the wolf guard should be atleast reduced to, say, Jorim with a ripped off arm and a wounded Haarek. They get "emergencbibbleported" outa the command room at the moment of defeat. Write something like;

..and the orks' axe came crashing down, and it smashed into the ground. The 'umies were gone!

Summit like. I.e. nick of time escape! Even more awesomesausage than my last idea.

Awesomesauce for you, Gooooooooooorsky.

*waits*

Oh, and you know what the best part could be? IT ISN'T THE WOLVES THAT ARE RESPONSIBLE!
Because SW hate teleporting anywhere, Haarek will arrive pee'd off, and I get to introduce his saviours, the Obsidian Tears. This is made of WIN.

True, I realize that they hate teleporting anywhere.

The dilemma:

Introduce the Obby tears and make the wolves look like sh*t,
OR
very much so grudgingly teleport an angry Haarek and aforementioned 3 limbed thunder-hammerer away and create epic rivalry.

Then, you can have the wolves trying to wtfpwn this new warboss, who might even eventually try and take whatshisfacesgorsky's position, or even create epic civil war with the WAAAAAAAAGH! All fun

Personally, I think teleporting the wolves out would be better. It opens up so much! Also, you could make it the Tears that teleport the wolves out, and Haarek gets pissy with 'em That'd be a fun post. So much more options my way IMO.

Also, at some point, do another counsil of war post, then we can get an idea of what's going on. But that'd have to be awhile later.

All I know is, I would like to see my idea, and I believe it is made of win when combined with your writing skills.

Damn. Hate when this happens.

*goes to prison for storystealing *

Meep. Ima shuddup and see what you do!

PART 4, CHAPTER VI: Necessary Sacrifice

The gunfire and roars outside the control room had stopped now, and Skargrim chuckled, an ugly grin on his face. He secretly hoped that the enemy had managed to win through. That would mean they were tough indeed, and therefore a worthy fight. Skargrim could do with a worthy fight. It was very dull monitoring the comms and telling units what to do. The mountainous ork flexed, warming up, and chucked again. It was a good job he'd got Mek Kogg to make Skargrim's mega-armour specially customised, otherwise he might have been slightly concerned about the approaching foe. Behind him, he could hear his 'ardboyz suiting up, preparing to defend the area even as the sounds of armoured footsteps drew closer. This was going to be good. The ugly grin got wider.

The first thing Haarek noticed about the control room was it's size. It was cavernous, filled to the brim with computers, tactical displays and communication booths. At that moment, he spotted the target. The ork leader was huge, far larger than any Haarek had faced before, and it was wearing the same bulky exoskeleton as it's subordinates had been. Haarek bared his teeth. It didn't matter how big the greenskin was, he would die all the same.
"Brothers, the enemy is here! By Russ, attack!"
The ork just grinned as the Wolf Guard began to charge.
"Get 'em, Ladz!"
The orks behind him howled and whooped, running at the terminators. These ones were more heavily armoured than the previous rank-and-file troopers Haarek had encountered, but that didn't matter; their armour was of no use against his Frost Axe. He raised his stormbolter and fired into the approaching horde. A few orks fell, but not enough. Heimdall added his own gunfire to the effort. Not even the addtitional armour plating worn by the greenskins could stop the rounds of the assault cannon, and the orks fell in droves. Beside him, Haarek heard Jorim curse and plant his feet, realising that no matter how much the Wolf Guard fired upon their foes, they would be charged.
The orks reached the terminators, and the slaughter began.
The first beast to reach Haarek swung at him with a clumsy overhead slash. He parried the blow, and flung the ork's arm wide, forcing it to step back. Before it could attack again, Haarek shot it in the face. A blow smashed against his helmet, and Haarek stumbled, temporarily wrong-footed by the force of the strike. Another blow, this one slamming against the back of his knees, nearly knocked him over. Haarek lashed out, and felt the impact as his axe cut through a few of his attackers. Making use of the newly created space, Haarek followed up, shoulder tackling one of his attackers to the floor before bringing his foot down on the creature's neck, breaking it with a loud snap. Nearby, Heimdall bisected a greenskin with a particularly vicious overhand swing of his chainfist. Furthest away, separated by a sea of orks, Jorim crushed attacker after attacker, his enraged insults carrying over even the din of battle.
Haarek began to move towards his brothers, his axe carving a path to them through the bodies of the enemy.
He had only taken three steps when a blow sent him toppling to the floor.

"Geddup, 'uminn, I wantz a fight, not a slumber party!"
The giant ork leader loomed over Haarek, a toothy snarl spread across it's face, and punched downwards. Haarek managed to roll to one side, but even so, the blow caught the edge of his shoulder guard, pulverising it with the tremendous force of the hit. However, the ork's blow had resulted in it's fist getting caught in the ground. As it heaved itself free, Haarek caught hold of the creature's gun arm, allowing it to pull him to his feet with it's momentum.
"What da - You cheatin' skumbag!"
The beast roared in indignation, and raised it's gun for a shot. Haarek had a fleeting impression of brilliant light before the gun discharged a massive energy bolt, missing Haarek by inches and instead blowing apart one of the last few 'ardboyz still standing. The boss swore, and instead took a swing at Haarek, it's massive steel claws buzzing with a crude energy field. Haarek parried, and the blades met with a thunderclap. With a metallic screech, several of the servos in Haarek's suit snapped trying to contain the strength of the ork's attack, and his arm was jerked back, his counterblow only just deflecting the massive shears from his torso. The ork smiled, displaying it's huge yellow tusks, knowing what had happened.
"Gonna be hard to do dat agin, 'uminn!"
Haarek responded with a swing of his own, aiming for the shoulder gap on the ork's claw arm. Caught in the middle of it's boast, the ork responded slowly, jerking awkwardly away from the blade. The Frost Axe instead struck the edge of the creature's shoulder, tearing it and ripping free some of the plating. Now it was the ork's turn to stumble.
The roar of an assault echoed from the walls, and shots struck the huge greenskin, forcing it further back. Haarek turned, and saw that between them Jorim and Heimdall had disposed of their attackers. He smiled. Things would now be even. He turned around, just in time to see the ork's headlong charge.

Ignoring the shots, Skargrim ran at the warrior with the big gun. He was furious now, his shoulder stung like hell and the armour he was wearing was costly to fix. Someone was gonna pay for this. The warrior tried to step away from his charge, but by then it was too late. With a roar of fury and battle-lust, Skargrim kicked the man to the floor, and swung downwards with his klaw. The human jerked and spasmed as each shear tore through his helmet, pulverising his skull and destroying his brain. He lifted the corpse and, with a yell of triumph, threw it at the other human, watching it knock the hammer-wielder to the floor.

Haarek could only scream a denial as Heimdall died. The ork moved fast; even as Jorim freed himself from his comrades' corpse, the creature was bearing down on him. Desperate to prevent his friend's death, Haarek opened fire on the beast, the shots causing it to flinch and miss it's target. Jorim, now on his feet, made the most of the opportunity. His hammer swung down, aiming for the ork's skull. The creature saw it coming, and seized his arm mid-swing. It wrenched; with a hideous tearing, Jorim's arm was pulled from it's socket. Jorim stumbled back, and Haarek heard him groan in agony over the squad comlink. Haarek advanced, knowing it was now or never. he had to kill the beast before it killed them.
Just as he reached it, the room filled with blinding light.
Haarek's stomach felt like it was dancing, and his head would not stop spinning.
The light stopped.

Haarek and Jorim were in a dark, ornately carved chamber. Built into the alcoves were various machines, each one monitored by a servitor. Haarek suddenly stiffened, his enhanced sight picking out warriors surrounding them. Each one wore black power armour, their helms shaped to resemble knights of old. On each of the astartes' left shoulderpad, three black teardrops were set against a background of purest white.
"What the hell? Why are we here?" Haarek snarled to the chamber at large.
One of the astartes stepped forward.
"Brother, be grateful. You have just been spared death."
Haarek bared his fangs, incensed at the percieved insult to his honour.
"We would have killed that greeskin had you not intervened, brother."
"I was not talking about that. Your team was taking too long to complete it's objective. We withdrew you all so as to conduct an orbital strike. The target has been neutralised, but your efforts shall be noted."
Haarek's in-helmet vox crackled quietly as Jorim grumbled.
"Smug b*stard."
Haarek voxed an agreement. The leader of these warriors would hear of this in no uncertain terms.
"Welcome, brothers of Fenris, to the strike cruiser Faithful Heart. We will take you to the Thunderhawk bay and transport you back to your ship now. "
The Obsidian Tears space marines turned, and as one, led Haarek and Jorim away.
Soon, all was silent in the chamber again.

...................................................................

Skargrim's first thought was to wonder what he had been drinking. Then he remembered the explosions. He cursed, realising he could not move, and looked up. His lower body was buried in a huge pile of rubble. The only thing stopping it from being crushed was his mega-armour; he was glad he had paid so much for it now. Luckily for Skargrim, the control room had just about withstood the punishment of the barrage, thanks in part to it's positioning deep within the hive. Even so, he could see that it was near to collapse. The humans had tricked him; they were just distracting him so their mates could drop the roof in on his head, just as they got clean away. He cursed.
"Dem zoggin' runts, can't fight proper like what I can, I dunno what dem 'uminns is comin' to dese days..."
With a therapeutic grumble, Skargrim began to dig himself free.

Tune in next time to see what the good old Guardsmen are up to. Will they repel the Gargants and tanks, or have they had it? Find out soon!

Nice. I like how you've opened up a new ork character there.

Anyways, I'm gonna start my own fanfic on here this weekend. 'Bout the squishies (Imperial guard)

*waits*

PART 4, CHAPTER VII: Hammer of the Emperor

Jansen was bleeding. A piece of shrapnel had cut into his leg. He was lucky, it was a minor wound, and he could still fight. Others were not so lucky.
He dragged himself to his feet, ears ringing, and forced himself to look over what was left of the barricade. His men were dying. The huge orkish tanks, though crude, were smashing through the imperial defensive line, crushing scores of soldiers and killing more with thunderous blasts from their guns. Jansen's own position had taken a direct hit. If it weren't for the dug-in position, he thought, they would all be dead. Still time for that, he admitted to himself.
As powerful as the metal behemoths were, they were meeting some resistance. Heavy weapon teams, realising the danger, had managed to destroy several, and were even now trying to stop the vehicles from overrunning their comrades-in-arms. Some Guardsmen, choosing to risk the danger of crushing, were running up to the tanks and attempting to put grenades in the tank's smoke stacks.
Coughing, Jansen limped over to the comms-man. Hershey was lying down, covered in dust, and speaking furiously into the vox.
"How bad is it, son?"
"Very bad, sir. The Kursk regiment is holding, but Captain Satyev reports that they are low on ammo. Princeps Alain is attempting to hold off those gargants, but he's being overrun. In short, sir, we could use some reinforcements."
"Hah, you don't say? Get me General Abel."
The vox-man nodded, and contacted the Elysian general.
[Echo One, this is High Command. What is the problem?]
"High command, Echo One here. We're under heavy attack, situation critical. Reinforcements requested at this time."
[Request acknowledged, Echo One. We'll send a few squadrons down, should help you out. Over and out.]
Jansen put down the receiver and grunted.
"Better get here soon, or there won't be much to reinforce."

When the Vendettas of Eagle Squadron began their strafing run, things were almost desperate. The Elysians had been pushed back, and had formed a defensive circle Many were dead, shrapnel cutting through limbs and arteries, or crushed under the mass of their attackers. The tanks of the greenskins pushed forward, knowing that victory was in their grasp. The first few lascannon shots changed all that. The massive vehicles, utterly unprepared for the speed of the attack, were slow to respond. Even as the beasts moved to track the new threat, more were reduced to burning wrecks.
The tanks returned fire, driving their attackers off, but by then it was too late. The momentum of their charge had been broken, and they were vulnerable to counter-attack.
Jansen did not hesitate.
"Heavy weapon teams, focus your fire! Wreck these b*stards!"
The guardsmen immediately responded, pounding their shots into the now-exposed flanks of the enemy. Once again, the foe tried to turn to present their thick front armour to the threat, but by this time the Vendettas had swept around and were coming in for another run. Shells began whistling as the tanks attempted to fight off both attacks.
Behind Jansen, a shell impacted on Bravo Squadron's position. Screams and the smell of burnt flesh immediately reached Jansen, and he grimaced. Yet more men to avenge. More mothers to comfort with tales of heroism. He swore, and turned to the nearby squads.
"Prepare to advance! I want everyone carrying a weapon that can hurt these things with me!"
Jansen clambered and slid down the slope, towards the vehicles. His men followed. The tanks were by now hopelessly disorganised, trying to fend off two attacks at once, and only a few thought to target the approaching soldiers. Their turrets roared, and Jansen scolded himself for thinking of them as "a few." Men were blown into the air or cut into ribbons, and the Elysians quickened their pace. Looking up, he saw that the Vendettas were now engaging crude flying vehicles, each piloted by a whooping greenskin, and knew that they had moments at best to get to the tanks.
Then they were there. The behemoths were intimidating from a distance, but up close they were utterly terrifying. Jansen swallowed, and hefted a meltagun. The trooper carrying it had been killed in the last few moments; Jansen would make sure he hadn't died in vain. He aimed at the nearest vehicle, a huge, smog-belching monster covered in glyphs and bolted-on armour plates, and pulled the trigger. The effects were impressive. The shot punched through the side of the tank, molten metal running like water, and detonated something inside. The tank screeched to a halt as thick black smoke shot out of the hole made by Jansen's shot, and promptly burst into flames. he knew the crew must be dead; nothing could survive such a conflagration. Nearby, more tanks fell to the fury of the Elysians. Grenade launchers destroyed engine stacks, hatches were torn open and flamers used to burn interiors, and when all else failed lasfire was poured through the top hatch in the hope a stray shot would kill someone important. Jansen roared with excitement and fury, all of his fears thrust away as his body dumped adrenaline into his system. They could do it!
One of the tanks began to bear down on him. It's driver had seen what Jansen's gun could do, and was in no mood to have it happen to him.
"Shiiiit...." Jansen span and fired. The gun melted through the front armour, but did not stop the tank. He could feel it's advance make the ground shake. He desperately tried to scramble out of it's way, sweat streaming down his brow as he panicked. It's shadow covered him, and he screamed a prayer, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable.
A massive crumpling of metal reached his ears, making him flinch and cover his ears in pain.
He looked up.
A grey-green tank had smashed into the side of the orkish vehicle, ploughing it aside as it's battle-cannon targeted another greenskin machine. Jansen laughed hysterically, tears of gratitude running down his cheeks, and spluttered his thanks, as if the Leman Russ could hear him. Nearby, more of the imperial tanks were beginning to assault their rivals. Atop one, a red flag flew, with a black aquila set in a yellow star in it's centre. The Kursk Red Guard were counter-attacking. The day could still be theirs.
Jansen picked himself up, and stumbled back into the fight. He would do his duty. His men followed him.
The tide had turned.
Sorry this is so short, I'm a little short on time at the moment.

Hmm.. when reading that last bit I did get the feeling that it had been a bit rushed.. and that you don't particularly enjoy writing as Imperial guard. Either way, you cleared that up. *waits*

I LOVED the part where the Terminators teleport into the Gargant.

PART 4, CHAPTER VIII: Tears of Stone

The Thunderhawk's frame shuddered. Ciaphas ignored the tremors, and continued to softly intone a prayer, chanting as he prepared himself for the fight ahead. He checked his boltgun's ammunition counter, before gently affixing a purity seal to it and applying holy oil to the wax seal atop the piece of scripture. It was a ritual he had acted out a thousand times; it had always given him comfort before a battle in the past. Today, the stakes were higher. On the main front, the regiments of Imperial Guard and their green-skinned opponents were locked in a bloody stalemate. Their ferocious allies, the wolves of Fenris, had struck at the core of the enemy-held city, very nearly interfering with the plans of the Obsidian Tears. Ciaphas had heard that Captain Adritus had been incensed at the Space Wolves' apparent recklessness. Personally, he thought the attack to be a foolish but undeniably brave act, one that he could at least admire for it's audacity if not it's timing. Now, it fell to the Obsidian Tears to even the balance of the battle. Their directive was to attack from the rear of the Ork forces, and apply enough pressure to fracture the horde. Three minutes ago, the First Company Terminators had begun their assault on the factory district of Hive Hephaistos. In one minute, it would be their turn; the regular troops of the First, the veterans of the chapter. Ciaphas was one such veteran. He and his squad had made a name for themselves as close-quarter and city-fighting specialists over the decades they had been together, and it was now that their skills would come in handy. Ciaphas checked to his left. Brother Beo stood there, quietly loading his flamer with a promethium tank. He nodded when he spotted the sergeant looking at him.
"Near to target zone, Brother-Sergeant?"
"Aye. Ready yourselves, we go in hot."
The Thunderhawk shook as, from below, weapons impacts slammed into it's hull. It's own guns returned fire, and Ciaphas knew it was time. He hefted his boltgun, attached his chainsword in it's sheath to his back, and stepped towards the assault ramp.
"Squad Virtus, prepare to disembark! Look to your boltguns!"
The squad affirmed the command, and moved into position.
The Thunderhawk touched down, and the assault ramp slammed downwards. In an instant, Squad Virtus was moving.
"GO GO GO!"
The Astartes immediately moved out, hugging cover to avoid the majority of the fire aimed at them. The moment they were clear, the Thuderhawk took off again. Brothers Daedalus and Orestes covered the rest of the squad with controlled bursts of fire; the percussive bark of their bolters echoing across the landing zone. Ciaphas got behind one of the more ungainly piles of rubble and took stock of the area. They had landed on an outthrust landing pad, on one of the higher levels of the hive's western sector. Before them, the orks had set up barriers of sandbags and torn-down panels of plasteel, fortified with razorwire. Clearly they had thought to guard the Hive's landing zones well. Ciaphas looked around, seeking for a way to overcome the barrier. There. To the right. An exposed venting duct, large enough to fit his bulky frame, was visible. It would do. He signalled to Beo and Decius.
"Ventilation duct, far right. use it to outflank the xenos, and burn them."
The two Astartes confirmed, and began to make their way across the landing zone, making use of any available cover.
"Squad, cover fire! Keep the b*stards' heads down!"
Squad Victus opened fire as one, buying time for Beo and Decius with a storm of bolt rounds. Behind the barrier, some of the orks ducked, trying to avoid the incoming fire. Others, either bravely or stupidly, ignored the danger and carried on firing their own crude machine-guns; many of them were struck by the shots of the Astartes, and did not get back up. Ciaphas ducked back behind his piece of cover, and looked over at the vent. the two warriors he had sent were gone; Ciaphas counted maybe twenty seconds since he'd last seen them. He reloaded his boltgun, and leaned over the rubble, aiming at the most prominent ork he could see. A large, ivory-tusked individual caught his eye. The beast was sporting a large automatic weapon, and was firing it carelessly in the direction of Squad Victus. Ciaphas focussed. His vision homed in on the snarling, dirty face of the ork. He squeezed the trigger. The greenskin jerked backwards, gun firing with it's death spasm as it's brains exploded out of the back of it's helmet. All that was left of the ork's skull was splattered across it's comrades, bits of bone sticking out of their armour and flesh. Several of the nearby warriors flinched, surprised at the gory death of their companion. It was the opening that Squad Victus needed. Taking advantage of the hesitation, the Astartes managed to pick off several more orks before the rest ducked. Ciaphas cursed. Now the greenskins would be much harder to oust from their position. He only hoped that -

A roar sounded, as a massive tongue of flame shot out from a vent next to the ork barrier. Mere seconds later, it was joined by another. The orks screamed and bellowed in agony as the flames consumed them. Some tried to leap the barrier to escape the conflagration, only to be gunned down by Squad Victus. The stench of burning flesh was near overwhelming. The orks didn't stand a chance.
Ciaphas began to walk over to the barricade, moving briskly. After the reappearance of Beo and Decius, the fight had been a great deal easier; the barriers set up by the greenskins were of no protection against the flamer-wielding Astartes who had outflanked their position. Here and there, a scorched ork corpse could be seen, arms out-thrust in it's death throes. Ciaphas knew they had to move fast. He knew well that the other veteran squads would have touched down by now and would be taking the fight to the enemy, but even so the orks outnumbered them ten to one. They must keep moving, and isolate the enemy; one by one they would fall, if necessary. He began to climb over the barrier. Squad Victus followed his example.

...................................................................................................................

Twenty minutes had passed. Tearing apart any isolated units of orks they came across, Squad Victus had slowly made their way to the greenskins' new command post; a huge tower, once the outpost of the Adeptus Mechanicum, now a gun-studded ork fortress. The greenskins had prepared surprisingly well for the Imperial attack, Ciaphas thought. Perhaps they were not as simple-minded as most believed. Certainly they had enough sense to have a backup command centre. Ciaphas halted, and signalled to the squad to move up. Brother Janus came up to him, careful to stay in the shadows.
"Brother-Sergeant, what is your plan?"
"We cannot assault the command post directly. That would be foolhardy, the place will be too well-guarded for just ten of us to handle. However... see those fuel tanks over there? Attached to the side of the tower?"
"Aye, Brother-Sergeant. Sabotage, is it?"
Ciaphas chuckled.
"Well, if they are stupid enough to put such things there..."
Squad Victus began to advance, moving slowly so as not to attract undue attention. The orks filling the square in front of them were too busy to notice them, however; the elite Terminators had turned up, and were attacking along one flank of the greenskins' lines, forcing them to throw their troops at the hulking Astartes warriors, with the hope of driving them off. It was the distraction Squad Victus needed. All that separated them from their target was a gantry running across the battleground. Ciaphas thought fast.
"Dante, Ignaitus, Orestes, Daedalus! Cover fire on my mark! The rest of you, run like hell 'til you get to the target!"
Squad Victus slowly edged across the gantry. The orks did not notice.
"Now, Brothers! Kill for the Emperor!"
Four of the Astartes halted and opened fire on the orks below, causing havoc and throwing confusion amongst the already embattled greenskins. The rest of the squad sprinted across the gantry to the platform and the fuel tanks, following Ciaphas' lead. Shots whistled past them as they ran. Some found a mark. Charon fell, a bullet punching through the eye-piece of his helm, his body crashing to the floor, shockingly loud. Ciaphas had known the man for almost a century now, had seen him best many enemies single-handed. This was not the death he would have expected for him. They carried on running. Ciaphas pulled out a krak grenade.
"Wire them round the base, and get ready to run when I give the order."
For a few terrible minutes, the Astartes worked, bullets flashing and skimming all around them. It was heartstopping. Several times, a bullet ricocheted off Ciaphas' helm, causing a prayer of supplication to spill from his lips. Finally, it was done.
"GO, brothers, GO! Run, for the Emperor's sake!"
The Astartes ran, trading shots with the greenskins below. Seeing their brothers returning at some speed, the four on the gantry too began to retreat. They only just made it.

With a deafening bang, and a filthy cloud of smog, the wall of the command centre blew outwards. The structure groaned, weakened by the massive punishment inflicted, but remained standing. Many of the orks below were not so lucky. The blast threw many of them to the floor, and crushed yet more to a pulp with flying masonry. Those closest to the blast were simply annihilated by the explosion. All around, orks lay stunned, easy targets for the newly galvanised Terminators.
Looking up, Ciaphas snarled.
"That was for Charon, you b*stards."
The rest of the squad picked themselves up. They were dust-covered, and grim, but unbroken.
"Squad, move out. Secondary target is within 800 metres."
Squad Victus passed into the shadows once more.

What an exciting adventure, kids! Will Ciaphas lead the veterans of Squad Victus to triumph once more? Find out next time!

In that case.

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IloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourworkIloveyourwork
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^should have plenty of updates now!

^ I see what you did thar

Nice, Gorskar, one of the best. IMO you should keep this squad story going for another couple of posts.

YEEEEAAAAHHH!!!!!
I assume that they are Sternguard, right?
I feel sorry for Charon though

Ediin wrote:YEEEEAAAAHHH!!!!!
I assume that they are Sternguard, right?
I feel sorry for Charon though

You assume correctly. Hell, my mind is still lodged back in the days when it was just Terminators and Veterans...

Darkvoidof40k wrote:^ I see what you did thar

Nice, Gorskar, one of the best. IMO you should keep this squad story going for another couple of posts.

I was certainly thinking that. To be honest, I much prefer writing for the Marines and Orks, they are just a great deal more fun to do. But then, you already spotted that.

Mmm.

It's just that "squishies" are sooooo hard to keep alive without making it seem stupid, so it's hard to write about them. But they look pwnage..

But so do marines..

Orks just look slowed..

But yeah, get some Warlord Gorskar posts in there! He's a big, loveable, cuddly, mountain of green muscle and bionics! And this thread IS meant to be about him isn't it.. so it SHOULD really have a magority of story posts from his character's point of view.

"BUT WE DON'T LIVE IN SHOULDLAND NOW DO WE..."

eh, eh?? Anyone know what I'm on about?

Oh yeahhh I played the card.

Glad you did... this is badassery of Norris-like proportions!! wah-pah!

PART 4, CHAPTER IX: Resolve of Obsidian

Thick black smoke billowed into the air as the command post burned. Inside, panicking grot fire-crews attempted to halt the fires caused by the Obsidian Tears' sabotage. They needn't have bothered. Outside, the last of the post's defenders were being wiped out; soon, the corpses of the gretchin were amongst those of the other defenders.
Brother-Sergeant Barbatio stepped across the body of a huge ork leader, and scanned the area for any more attackers. What he saw answered his question; the havoc wreaked by the guns of Squad Lacertus had slaughered the pitiful remnants of the greenskin command staff. To his left, Brother Menelaus signalled him to come over.
"What is it, Brother?"
Menelaus pointed to a slightly singed but still active view-screen.
"I believe we need to contact the Princeps..."
What Barbatio saw made a shiver run up his spine, even with his long experience seeing the horrors of war.
"Princeps Alain? This is Brother-Sergeant Barbatio. You need to hear this..."

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Brother-Sergeant Ciaphas moved fast, careful to stick to the shadows where the darkness of his armour would camouflage him best. Beyond them, separated from the squad by a maze of smog-stained gantries, was their target; a landing pad, used by the greenskins to fly in supplies. It would be down to squad Victus to capture it. Behind him, Beo swiftly reloaded his flamer, and checked the nozzle. Ciaphas nodded in approval; if things got too hot, they'd need the flamers to hold back the horde.
As they reached the edge of the surrounding buildings, Ciaphas signalled a halt. Before them lay the landing area. It was sparsely manned, with just two small groups of ork warriors in the vicinity of the pad. Ciaphas studied them closer. These ones were better armed and armoured than the greenskins they had previously encountered, with large suits of of what looked like ill-fitting salvaged tank armour plates. Clearly the orks had seen fit to re-use these tracks to protect themselves better. Not that it mattered; Ciaphas had great faith in the abilities of Squad Victus. He knew they would come out on top.
The squad began to move as one, encircling the pad and it's current owners.

Grotzeg yawned, and scratched himself. He wasn't sure why the Boss had made them stay here when there were human fighters to be killed elsewhere. The Boss' only explanation had been to punch Groff in the face after he'd questioned it. That was good enough for Grotzeg. Beside him, Zagwurr belched. The stench was foul.
"Oi, keep it down!"
Zagwurr raised a finger.
"Zog dat, you grot. What'sa matter, too soft ter handle it?"
"I'll have yer gutted for that!!"
Zagwurr got up, a belligerent look on his features. He took two steps towards Grotzeg, snarling.
And with a whistling sound, his head expoded.
Grotzeg barely had time to register this before shots began to slam against his armour. He roared, and opened fire in the general direction of the shooting. Looks like looting the human tanks was a good thing. He ran towards the rest of his mob, who were already shooting in every direction they could. He felt more secure here; no enemy could beat him and his mates, they were too strong. This would be over soon.
A small rattling near his feet caught his attention, and he looked down. Before he could even swear, the grenade went off.

Ciaphas blew apart another ork's head with a round from his boltgun, keeping them distracted as Beo, Dante and Daedalus advanced from behind. Though the plating the greenskins wore was strong, it was weak around the face, and Ciaphas wasted no time in taking advantage of this.
At the rate Ciaphas and his squadmates were killing their foe, they would not be done in time for the second phase of the plan. Fortunately, Beo and his Brothers would solve that.
As their grenades began to detonate in between the tightly packed orks, Ciaphas suppressed a smile. One more victory for the Emperor.

Ten minutes later, a pair of thunderhawks streaked through the sky, aiming for the liberated pad. The new front was now open, and with the Obsidian Tears leading the attack, the momentum of the imperial war machine started to build.
For the first time in a very long time, the Imperial forces were on the cusp of a great victory.

Now THAT'S how you necro a thread, Dark. Enjoy!