Irked Blood Angel Scout with Combat Knife
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I wrote this piece for my english class. Before you start reading, a bit of introduction. Death's Head is a successor chapter to the Blood Angels who come from Yuggoth (yes, from H.P. Lovecraft) and, as a result, many are quite mad. This is the story of a minor skirmish against the small ork tribe that infests Yuggoth, who struck against Death's Head whiile they were fighting back a Tyranid invasion. It's a little unrealistic, but very fun to write. Enjoy!
Decimus Caeler, Chapter Master of Death’s Head, addressed his troops “Battle-brothers! These xenos beasts encroach on our sacred ground! Will you stand for it?”, in response there were bellows of “No!” and the ferocious revving of chainswords.
He continued “These savages seek to murder our brothers while they fight the tyranid menace. But they did not account for us!
“Space Marines of Death’s Head, charge!” The dark crimson armoured giants strode out onto the open plains, accompanied by the staccato crash of boltgun fire.
The orkish horde, noticing for the first time it was under attack, emitted a guttural cry of “WAAAGH!” as it charged, heavy bore firearms blazing, their fire spattering off the ceramite plating of the Astartes like rain. The two forces met in a cataclysmic melee, the Land Raider tanks of Death’s Head crushing scores of orks under their treads, Marines crumpled by the power klaws of Nobs and the Warboss, Dreadnoughts cutting bloody swathes through the barbaric fungus creatures and Astartes cackling as they tore orks in twain with nought but their hands.
The orks were strong, taking two or more heavy, .75 calibre boltgun rounds to kill, but the Space Marines were stronger. Soon, the orks were in retreat, crawling back into the abyss that they came from at the end of the cold, black, stone plains of Yuggoth. Decimus Caeler began to call for extraction as he reflected on the battle. It had been a good victory, but it had not come without it’s cost. Many Battle-Brothers were wounded, and a few were even dead. Dismissing the sorrowful thought from his head, he summoned his command squad. Soon, Honoured Brother Geld lumbered into view, his dreadnought armour stained with blood. Then Epistolary Accanthus strode over silently, his psychic hood still glowing. The next to arrive was 2nd Company Captain Accestus “The Tank” Leontius, as always, he was carrying the massive bulk of his heavy bolter “Clementine” in one huge, meaty hand. The last to show was Brother-Sergeant Tyrone, his chainsword and mouth still stained with ork blood. Caeler began “Now that the ork menace has been shattered, it is time to turn back to the real threat of the tyranids. We must strike hard and fast against the main horde. As soon as the extraction is complete, we will redeploy and blunt their offensive against the fortress-monastery. Speaking of extraction, the last Thunderhawk has departed. I will call for our Stormraven.”
“First to the fight, last to fall!” his command squad chanted in unison.
Just as Caeler began to call for extraction on his vox-caster, a deafening cry emitted from the abyss the orks had retreated to. Then, the occulobe-enhanced vision of the Astartes picked up movement on the edge of the crevace. It appeared to be a green creature of some sort. No, a hand! Clawed, strong, orkoid! The orks appeared to want a rematch. Leontius rumbled “Ha! This time it’ll almost be a fair fight!” as the orks began to rise from the edge of their precipice.
Accanthus said “Better cancel that extraction boss, call for a lot of body bags instead.” in his calm, throaty voice.
The five Space Marines bellowed “Suffer not the alien to live!” as they met the ork charge head-on
“It ‘urts me noggin to fink about it! Dese ‘umies should be zoggin’ off!” shouted Warboss Wagonkrumpa at his retinue.
One Nob spoke up “Boss, maybe deyz got sumfin speshul to krump us wit and deyz waitin’ for it to be ready.”
Wagonkrumpa bellowed “Wes da orks! Nuffin’ krumps us! But der laffin’! Der laffin’ like they just saw a good speedy race with lots of ‘urts! Nobody laffs at da orks!”
Geld rasped “I will break you...” at an entire squad of tankbustas that had come to stop his mad rampage.
And he did break them. Seconds later, there was nothing left of the poor orks but bits of bone and blood in the dreadnought’s fist. Across the field, Leontius was gunning down orks with Clementine. Tyrone was berserking on the deck of a battlewagon that had been airdropped in by the orks, the arm of a Nob hanging out of his mouth. Accanthus was engaged in psychic combat with three ork Wierdboyz, destroying their fragile minds with his mental might, and their bodies with scarlet lightning shot from his fingertips. He was, as always, calmer than death himself.
Caeler looked across the battlefield, trying to find the towering ork that would be the Warboss. He knew that, if he could kill the Warboss, the rest would run in fear, or charge him. It was a gamble, but Space Marines know no fear. Seeing a huge figure bellowing something reminiscent of orders (“Get em’ boyz! WAAAGH! Dakka dakka dakka!”) Caeler leapt into the air, clearing the distance between them with his augmetic legs. The ork looked surprised for a second, then uttered a cry of “WAAAGH!” and charged. Caeler met the towering xenos monster with a flurry of blows from his power sword, Eversor, but to no avail. The creature seemed unstoppable. Caeler heard thundering footsteps behind him and new that he had to kill this beast quickly, for he could not defeat both an ork dreadnought (or Deff Dred) and a Warboss. In that split second of distraction, the Warboss grabbed the Marine with his power klaw and shoved the barrel of his machine gun into Caeler’s chest, pulling the trigger. Caeler grabbed the gun arm of the ork and pulled, ripping it clean off, then tossing it away. The injured ork swung at him with his klaw. Caeler knew even he likely could not survive such a blow. As it was about to connect, the source of the thundering arrived, a 20 foot tall killing machine, but no Deff Dred. No, this was Honoured Brother Geld of Death’s Head second company! Selflessly throwing himself in the way of the ork’s blow, he was knocked off his feet, and the ork moved to finish him. Caeler jumped onto the back of the ork and plunged his blade into it’s skull. The eyes of the Warboss changed from those of a predator about to finish his prey to those of a scared little creature, then it died.
A Nob shouted “Da boss is dead! Wes in charge now! Dakka dakka dakka! Krump da spess muhreens!”
The orks did not flee, but charged. Geld got back on his feet, Caeler shouted into his vox-caster “We need evac! Now! Get the Hammer of Redemption down here!”
Caeler’s command squad gathered around him, Enveloped by a tide of orks. Tyrone, in his rage, began carving through the orks with his chainsword. Geld held his position by his lord, breaking anyone that got close. Accanthus kept the horde back by instilling fear in their weak minds and crumpling their bodies with his mind. Leontius was beating down a squad of Nobs with Clementine, and there seemed to be hope.
The roar of a Stormraven was heard by all, and there was more hope. It cleared a landing zone with its heavy guns. One by one, the command squad boarded, even the psychotic Tyrone, if only because Geld picked him up and threw him aboard. Soon, the only Space Marine left on the field was Caeler, he tried to board, but too many orks were on him. “Leave me! That’s an order!”
Reluctant to abandon their lord and friend, the Marines nearly refused, but then, realizing that they could not save him, they ordered the pilot to fly them away. Then there was no hope. The legendary Decimus Caeler, Chapter Master of Death’s Head, Lord of Yugoth, was gone. He would be missed, and the battlefield would be returned to to find his prized weapons, which he had forged himslf, and his sanctified power armour suit.
Eight days later, the tyranids had been stopped, as had the remainder of the orks. A Thunderhawk filled with saddened marines, mourning their lost brothers and their beloved Chapter Master, arrived at Land’s End. They found nothing but a huge pile of ork corpses. At the bottom of the pile was Caeler. His armour had been mostly destroyed, exposing the mostly metal man beneath. He stirred. Caeler lived still! An Apothecary rushed to him, realizing that, biologically, Caeler was near dead, his hearts having stopped beating, but the life support systems in his augmented prosthetics, some of which from over a thousand years ago when he was but a Battle-Brother, were second only to the Golden Throne, and had saved his life. Geld rasped “First to the fight, never to fall.” The cheer spread through the gathered Marines, joyous shouts filling the air.
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