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Chapter One:
As he ripped through a greenskin using his chainsword,blood splattered across Sergeant Thoros's face.
Blood. An angel of blood,it seemed like centuries since he had been called one yet it had been less than a decade ago.
His face turned sour at the memory, he ripped his weapon out of the Ork's carcass and added his pistol to the barrage of bolts shredding through the Warband's second wave.
Dozens were cut down in the volley,yet dozens more pushed on,crashing into the Astartes like a tidal wave.
The charge reminded him of the Hormagaunts of the Leviathan,wave after wave pushing ever closer,draining ammo supplies before bursting through their defences,it had been hell,yet they had stood fast for they were Sons of Sanguinius!
He pushed the memory aside as a brutish beast with a large claw entered melee range,letting out a loud bellow as it aimed for Thoros's face.
The monstrosity's speed was great,but it would be useless against an experienced warrior such as him,he ducked and rammed his shoulder into the creatures stomach,using it's own momentum to throw it overhead.
With a loud bang the ork hit the ground,the back of his claw shattering a large rock as it attempted to stand,Thoros pushed his chainsword through it's head before it had a chance to move further,putting a bolt through another's chest,exploding it inside out.
The noise started to dim as his warriors finished the last of the orks,"7th and 3th! Gather on me!" he shouted,glancing at each of his squad's members before pushing on,knowing his men would do the same.
He made it's way through the corpses that laid spread out across the hill,many still bearing a grimace on their face,some locked in a permanent yell,such a death was befitting of this filth.
Static tore through the vox,breaking the eerie silence that was traditional at the end of a battle,"This is Sergeant Hakur of the 12th,regroup on me,Thunderhawk is on it's way for extraction."
Thoros was relieved,exhaustion was starting to take a toll on him,they had fought the greenskin menace for over a month and still it seemed like there was no end to them.
The Strike Force's drop pods had been scattered throughout the continent,whether through the ship's radar malfuctioning,Orks jamming it or other circumstances he did not know.
The Seventh had been stranded thousands of miles from their target,isolated from the rest of the force,it had taken them weeks before they reached part of the 3rd.
More than half of it had been wiped out,the survivors joining up with Thoros before continuing their long march.
It had been a gruelling trek,they had encountered orks 4 times on the first day,twice that on the second,eleven times on the third.
Still,he welcomed the fighting for it was the only way to take his mind off of the dread he felt.
His memories of the last time they had faced such odds were usually suppressed beneath combat doctorines,weapon checks and ensuring the Sons of Sanguinius fought with utmost precision.
Sanguinius. Shame overcame him at hearing the name of his beloved primarch,for they had failed him,in the Imperium's hour of need,the Blood Angels had fallen...
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So there it is,the first chapter of my post-M41 story,please let me know what you think and what i could improve,
Thanks in advance!
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