Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

This is a little teaser for a short story I'm thinking of writing. Lemme know what you think.

“We will reach the DZ at 1506 local time. Drop distance is projected at 100 meters so be quick on the stabilizers or you will be more familiar with the rocks than your boyfriends.”

Flashes. Hulking monsters; beastial heads thrown back to the sky amidst plumes of smoke. A hand, my hand, groping for purchase on the scarred earth. The world swirls across my vision like the waves of home while a high pitched ringing fills my ears.

“Insertion pattern Omicron is in effect so once you have boots on the ground make best speed to the green smoke for heavy gear. Friend or foe challenge is Delphus; password is Janus. Intel shows little activity in this zone, but you all remember how much of a hell storm Cadia turned out to be a few years back.”

My head is thrown back with such force the world goes black for a moment. I feel my body being lifted from the ground by the vice grip on my left wrist. Light returns and with it the face of my certain death. Teeth the size of my blade jut up from the jaw while eyes like deep set burning coals look over my face with contempt. Hot rancid breath washes over my face as it speaks.

“We know the drill. We have our job and we have been given the means to accomplish it by the all mighty himself. Every one of you has the emperor's blessing to kill every last one of those green bastards.”

I cannot hear what it says over the ringing in my ears. For a moment I am falling as it drops my body back to the earth. I feel cracks as the ground halts my descent. My vision is returning now, I can trace the contrails of fighter craft as they dance about each other far above in the brilliant blue sky. I see the hastily splashed on red paint of my killer's massive chain axe.

“Struts up at 1400. Angels Three, Eight, and Seven will be in the lead. Cerberus flight will be along as our insurance policy.”

It rises far up above me, a monolith interrupting the ballet high above with its monumental brutality. I am at my end. A red flash lights up the axe's whirring teeth as the mighty weapon begins its long journey down upon me. It descends in slow motion toward my upturned face, but slowly begins to drift.

“I won't sugar coat our mission. It's entirely likely a lesser regiment would not be up to the task the lord general has handed to us. Luckily, we aren't a lesser regiment. We have 72 hours before the line reaches us. I intend to have the butcher's head on a silver platter in 10. Get some shuteye, and look to your weapons. You have the night to yourselves.”

Mud splashes my face as the axe head buries itself into the muck, just a few centimeters from my right cheek. Sound is returning to my world now. I can hear the chug of the axe as it tenaciously tries to chew through the thick mud clogging its motivators. Shouting voices sound as though they are traveling through water but gradually become more distinct over the returning crack of las fire and woosh of rockets. “Captain!” I hear over the din.

“Be ready in the morning. For in the morning we drop!”

The Colonel is dead. The regiment is scattered across the mountains. We have a job to do.