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Major Icharus overlooked his battlefield. He saw a hill, on top of which stood Outpost 329, a once Imperial outpost but it had fallen to the archenemy. The war on Tranchus had been raging for six weeks now, and that had been a bloody six weeks for the Major. It had cost his company dearly. He averted his look from the battlefield, and glanced a look towards his company. Fox company, 17th Khazak Infantry. The 17th had been in the brunt of the firing line since they made planetfall on Tranchus. Thirty-two percent losses. Icharus' company had been reduced from 250 men to just 189 men, including himself and his staff. Icharus was no starched officer, he served from the front, like the rest of the officers in Khazak forces. Brave men, all of them, he thought. Major Icharus focussed on the objective again. It was a tall tower, surrounded by firing trenches manned by a company's strength of Sons of Morthai. The Sons were Guard once, and they made planetfall on Tranchus eight months ago, completely conquering the planet in just a two week span. Imperial efforts took six weeks, just to com a across a well prepared foe.

Icharus looked through his binoculars, over-watching enemy activities whilst preparing for the defense. Vile scriptures were covered on the walls of the Outpost. It appeared red paint, but it could just be blood either way. The Sons served their so called god with great passion. Icharus could not bare to speak the name of this god, or even think of it's name. All he knew was, when it came to close quarters, there would be much blood spilling.

The enemy covered a great deal of the hill. They could oversee everything from their vantage point. With no support whatsoever, Major Icharus was forced to take the Outpost by sheer manpower. The Colonel ordered to take the outpost in one piece, as it was of great strategic importance. Though, he wondered, if it was so precious, why just send in one reduced company? Either way, he couldn't linger much longer. When his troops were ready, he would give the signal to advance.

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Sergeant Durov checked his lasgun for what seemed the hundredth time in the last few minutes. He made sure his men did the same thing.

"Check you weapons, lads." Said Durov "We're up against though Vrekkers this time."

"I thought those others at Bishop's Corral were though Vrekkers, sir." Answered Twenzel, a young conscripted trooper.

The 17th was a veteran outfit, but after their last campaign, they took a hard beating. They were out the field for three months, awaiting reinforcements from home. Khzazak, he missed his home.

"Shut it!" Durov ordered. "Await the good Major's order."

Al around him, men from Fox company were steeling themselves for the fight to come. The Major had chosen to hit just one side, and hit it hard with the whole company. The western trench seemed the weakest, so the western flank it would be. Durow knew fully that his squad, and most others, were made up of grunts. It was normal for them, this was their first war. But he couldn't help himself, he was a bit frightened as well. Nobody would like to go and take a castle without support. He shook that out, and checked his lasgun, and it's ammo again.

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The enemy was well prepared, they had prepared fully. Heavy stubbers, mounted flamers,... The outpost was a vile thing to storm. Major Icharus put his binoculars down, put them in it's pocket at his waist, and drew his laspistol. His other hand was resting on his power sword, given to him by the Colonel himself. He retracted that hand, and it went for the whistle dangling at his neck. His clammy hand wrapped around it, he made his way to the front line. He saw good men as he passed. Sergeants Grier, Sev, Durov, several line troopers he had the honor the bleed with. He greeted them all.

"Not long now men." He said. Fix bayonets!"

The sound of short swords, getting attached to bayonet lugs could be heard.

He pushed his way to the front, past the shuffling line troopers. Once there he took a final glance at the Outpost, and the steep hill they had to climb to get there. The ground was hard, the summer temperatures made for that. Icharus cleared his throat.

"Fox company, listen to me!" He yelled in his loudest voice. "I have bled with most of you already. Let's bleed again as we, brave men of Khazak, take this hill in the name of our families!"

Great roaring followed.

"In the name of the Emperor, and the golden throne!"

More roared approval.

"But most of all, for Khazak!"

Fox company roared their approval.

Icharus' hand reached for his whistle again. He brought it to his mouth, while his company roared in anger for the carnage to come. He had seen to that. He blew his whistle.

They lunged forward as a roaring tidal wave.

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So, that was part one. More to follow in the following days.

Great story cant way to see the next part. Youve really shown the khazak culture though that may just be cos i dont play 40k.

hehehe, thanks! But The khazak are just my Guard. I come up with fluff for them since I first started with them, and settled on a color scheme.

Good fluff Scrazza , like what you did with that , for some reason i had the visual image of the men at the bottom of edinburgh castle http://image.jamesdenyer.co.uk/travel/edinburgh/edinburgh_castle_4.jpg
so their up against that nasty god of khorne eh? well good luck to them!

Thanks Neil! Yeah that was what I kinda visualised the Ouètpost to be. Except for a castle, it's a tower, and for the walls there are trenches. But for the rest, it matches your link.

part two:

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His legs pumping, adrenaline surging through his head, Sergeant Sev ran his middle aged body forwards. Sev had been in the 17th since he was 19. Now, eleven years later, he was a Sergeant. He served alongside with Sergeants Grier and Durov. There was trooper Hirque, and old Shaky, but the rest was dead. A long time had passed since Tharko and now. He felt the reasuring hands of Sergeant Grier on his back, urging him on. Sev quickly upped his pace, tightly gripping his lasgun. Looking around him, he saw the rest of his squad carefully following his lead.

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"Get moving, Vrekheads!" Durov yelled. "I don't have the intention of dying here."

He picked up a fallen trooper, almost getting cruched by the tide of men. He recognised the boy. Line Trooper Medorov, his squads.

"Watch it, Medi. Keep it tight." Durov reasured the lad.

He picked him up, and resumed his running, still gripping the boy by the shoulder.

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Major Icharus could see the enemy taking aim behind their trench walls. Not long now, and Fox company would be blinded by lasfire, churned through by stubber fire, and burned by flame. Still, he urged his men on.

"Remember who you are!" Icharus shouted, his hands reaching to his powersabre. "Men of Khazak!" He pulled his sabre out, waving it towards the trenches.

Whatever he yelled, his troops couldn't hear it through the noise of enemy fire that just kicked up.

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Suddenly, Durov felt Medorov buckle, and fall down again. He looked sidewards at the young boy, his gut punched through with lasfire.

"Vrek!" He cursed, and let go of the dead weight. "Keep it tight! double time!"

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All around him, Sev could see troopers falling. The trenches were still a good thirty meters away, and the enemy had got a good bead on them. He glanced the major taking potshots with his laspistol. They needed some punch. Sev took a left turn, and urged his squad to follow him towards the cover of a felled tree.

Specialist Laughlin fell in beside him, trying to catch his breath, while Trooper DePauw fell foul to enemy stubber fire.

"See that stub empalcement?" Sev asked. "Shoot it."

Laughlin nodded, and cocked his grenade launcher.

Sev dared a glace out of cover, and, after hearing the thump of Laughlin's grenade launcher, he saw the emplacement dissapearing in a mist of smoke and blood. That should give them an opening.

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Bright lasbeams stabbed at his men. They fell all around him. Icharus could see a stubber emplacement going up, folowed by the cheering of his men around. It gave him an opening, how many of his men had fallen because of that stubber?

Icharus let out a cry of anger, and took another shot with his laspistol. They were close enough, and he hit a Son's head. Not far now, just twenty meters.

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Sergeant Durov was closer then twenty meters. They were lucky the enemy hadn't got any stubbers near him and his squad. Furious lasbeams stabbed them, and men fell like leaves from a tree. he saw a sergeant he didn't knew, probably fresh from Khazak, take a hit in the shoulder. The man fell down just a metre in front of Durov, and he had to leap over him. No time for him, just a few more leaps and he was in the firing trench. He started firing from the hip, and all around him, men followed his lead. a handfull of careless Son's fell backwards into their trench. Durov's section would have to secure a beachhead, as they were the only ones close enough to do so. The rest of the company was still a few metres away.

"Grenades!" Durov yelled, and dozens of frags were tossed into the trench. Screams and explosions, cheers and roaring.

Durov was the first to jump into the trench, followed by others of his section. He saw Lieutenant Theron, his platoon commander, take a hit in the belly. He dropped face-down into the dirt.

Reckoning he was Theron's second in command, Durov took command of third platoon.

He and several others were allready in the trench, but they weren't safe yet. Icharus and most of Fox company, excluding third platoon, were still out in the field, several metres short of the trenches.

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C&C would be welcome.

More Fiction. I'd love to hear what you guys think of it, and how I can improve.

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"Third platoon," Durov shouted. "secure this trench!"

The air was still loud with gunfire. Others were still out there, pinned behind cover, or just running towards the stubbers. The new Platoon CO had to hurry if he wanted the rest of his compant to make it. Durov could see Son reinforcements running towards them from out of the tower. That tower was a gigantic thing, he reckoned. From where he was, it blocked the sunrays out. But now they had the advantage of the trench. But, as the only ones in their company to be in the trench, their flanks weren't secured. Third platoon was fighting Sons left and right. He directed Sergeants Grier and Gouskov to the left and right flank respectively.

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It all happened so fast. Just then, Trooper Frin was eagerly waiting for the charge. Now he found himself in a trench section just taken by Sergeant Durov.He had to secure the left flank. He followed Grier like a dog. Frin was terrified, this was his first battlefield, and he had seen death. He clinged on to his lasgun, pressed against his chest.

"You won't be able to fire that." Grier advised. "Act like a Guardsman!"

Frin retook his pose. He wished those stubbers would stop making that noise.

Suddenly, he saw Mohn take a hit in the chest, tumble backwards, a big pool of blood seeping out of the entry and exit hole. That stubber team have just readsjusted their position. Frin dropped on his belly like he was told by the drill instructor, the others doing the same. Two others were too late and were riddled with stub fire.

"Someone do something!" Grier yelled. He was pinned behind a pile of sandbags.

Frin lay in cover behind Mohn, and had a clean shot on the stubber team. Taking aim, calming his breath, he squeezed the trigger at full auto. A burst later, and the two of them were dead. Frin lay where he was for a few seconds, until he felt Grier's hands under his armpits, pulling him up.

"Keep moving." He said. "Here comes the rest."

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Icharus made it in the trench. At least, not yet. His anger taking over, he jumped down the trench, not sure where his men were. He landed on a kneeling Son, breaking his neck. He aimed his laspistol, and fired a couple of shots before hacking the head off a Son with his Powersabre.

"Men of Khazak!" He yelled.

The trench was packed with Sons, but the three dead Sons around him just made more room for the other Sons. Like a Demon, Icharus hacked in the mass of bodies, until he saw the reasuring sight of grey flak armor and red tunic. His men had made it in.

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Sev and the rest jumped in the trench as well. A couple of grenades had softened them somewhat, and Sev started finishing off some downed Sons. Until more came. He ordered his men around him to follow, and went for a bayonet charge. Sev, and seven other suad members rushed the dozens of Sons packed in the tight confines of the trench. They started to fire from the hip franticaly whilst running. Most of the beams were caught by the front row, but it did the trick. The trench floor was slick with blood, and he almost lost his footing. Regaining his pose, and realising his clip was empty, he leapt the few steps between them and the enemy, and slashed his bayonet through a sons belly. He stabbed another one, and he felt something sharp slashing his shoulder. It wasn't a deep cut, and he seemed to be able to still use the arm. He stabbed a Son who appeared to have some sense of authority over the other Sons. He saw two more squad members taken down by those blood crazed fanatics. The Sons were down to just two men. Sev, feeling victorious and confident, followed those two as they tried to make a run for it. He directed his squad with him. He ran on, his men at is boots, and realised his error.

A stubber team had oppened fire on them, riddling the two Sons just a few steps in front of him, and several of his squad. One Son toppled over, and kicked Sev down, when he too felt bullets entering his belly.

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Can't be bothered to post more, but it will come. When someone read this I hope.