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--- Launch Over Lydia, a short story based on a recent campaign mission I played ---

E41 dug his clawed gloves into the thick metal pylons supporting the decrepit overpass. The raised roadway had once connected to the major thoroughfare that had served the dense city center. One hand then the next, he climbed his way to the highway a hundred feet above him. He heard the scattered lasfire behind him as imperial scouts exchanged shots with cultists hidden in the ruins. His enhanced senses told him of the approaching armored column, its sounds almost muffled beneath the constant carpet-bombing further down the front.

In his ears, a high-pitched grinding caught his attention. Power armor servos, he had no doubt. Left to decay after many years of battle, the armor of the fallen made an unmistakable noise, all but imperceptible to the average human. He glanced to his right, hundreds of yards away through the dark smoke-filled streets he recognized the towering minions of chaos advancing through the hollowed cityscape.

His bionic implants began feeding him the combat drugs, narrowing his focus, clearing his mind, pulsing in his blood. The assassin began to hunger. He felt the familiar ecstasy in the smell of blood, a smell he’d learned well in his years at the Eversor Temple.

For the time, resisting the temptation, he resumed his climb. Around him the ruins burst into a lash of sharp cracks as lasgun bolts shattered the space between foes, leaving the air acrid and reeking of ozone. Bolter shells perforated the broken walls and detonated against the hulls of hidden Imperial chimeras who returned fire with their blinding multilaser turrets.

He reached over the broken lip of the raised roadway and pulled himself up. There, he found his objective, one of the few remaining Lydia shuttles at the landing ground, miraculously it was mostly untouched amongst the carnage and chaos of the war. Beneath him battle tanks roared, firing their shells exploding against demon dreadnaughts and war engines. In turn they ripped into the Imperial vehicles, peeling away the thick armor like a knife through cloth.

A Valkyrie roared over his head at high speed, as storm troopers dropped by chute into the battlefield. A horde of demon marines descended upon them as they tried to regroup and the marines sliced through their defenses in moments. The smell of their blood, the echo of their screams, called to him again. But E41 had his mission, and he focused on the shuttle in front of him.

The door mechanism was damaged, he drew his power sword and with a practiced slice he cleared the dented metal, shearing it clean off. The door fell open, the lights inside flickered to life on the rounded row of seats, stacked three high, enough seats to carry a few dozen men off planet on a one way trip.

Then he heard the unmistakable scream of demons thrashing from the immaterium and crying with life. He turned to look over the edge of the roadway; a massive horned demon ripped its way through a squad of humans before ripping the walls from one of the other shuttles. Time to go.

He heard the high-pitched grinding once more, and turned to see five of the demon marines scaling the railing behind him and rolling to their feet. Towering over him, they raised their weapons and quickly launched a torrent of bolter fire towards the empty space where E41 had been.

The bionics flushed his system with that exquisite elixir, frenzon. It flowed through his veins and the marines’ movements fell to a languid and expectable pattern. He sidestepped their barrage with ease, drawing his bolt pistol and in the same motion he fired two reflexive shots through the respirator of the nearest marine. The marine’s gurgled scream was muted as a foul and corrupted fluid squirted from the hole in his face mask, falling to his knees, his empty eye slits meeting with the Eversor for a mere blink in time.

The assassin launched himself at the next marine, driving his power sword through the monster’s chest and slicing out to the left, cutting out a thick line of guts and armor that melted into a splattered stain against the pavement. The remaining marines fired panicked bursts of bolter and melta fire at the abomination that they faced, but E41 leapt overhead and sliced through the neck of the trooper attempting to reload his meltagun. E41 reached up and grabbed the horse collar of the nearest marine threw him from the raised roadway. The assassin rolled around the last marine, leaped and with both feet kicked the last enemy off the edge and to the hard concrete below, crashing with a violent thud.

Springing to his feet he surveyed the field. The blood and the screams, the glorious screams. He paused a moment to savor the scene. The last of the shuttles was being torn apart by tank fire as chaos cultists tried to scurry inside, the resulting explosion engulfing them all. He turned back to his shuttle. "The last ride is mine." He stepped inside and keyed the console for emergency launch, taking one of the shuttle’s seats. His bionics began to disengage, sapping the frenzon from his system. The blinding pain engulfed him as his body punished him with the drug’s withdrawal. It was an exceptional pain. Just a small taste, he thought. There will be more to kill where I’m headed.

With that the shuttle’s engines ignited, blasting away dust and debris high above the battlefield. Lift off as the ship propelled him like a bullet through the darkened sky toward his primary target.

I can't ever get any better without constructive criticism.

Ok, here's my thoughts. Note that none of this is meant to sound harsh, just help you out.

- The biggest thing I noticed here was that you seemed to write only about the Assassain, with nearly every senteance (especially in the earlier paragraphs) referring to 'he', 'E41' or 'The Assassain'. While there is nothing wrong with this per se, it does at times impede the flow of the writing, giving a sense of "he did this and then he did that, and once he had done that, he did something else." This is something that can be easily worked out, though, just by making the subject of the senteance whatever he is interacting with. For example:

"One hand then the next, he climbed his way to the highway a hundred feet above him. He heard the scattered lasfire behind him as imperial scouts exchanged shots with cultists hidden in the ruins."

Could become:

"Claws dug into concrete and steel, hauling his lithe, black form ever closer to the towering roadway. Below, unseen foes traded distant shots in the ruins, nothing more than ambient noise to filter out; There was more worthy prey ahead."
Obviously, this is written in my 'style', so wouldn't fit as a direct replacement in your work, but hopefully you can see how, by shifting word order and focus of the senteance, you can still keep it relevant to the character without repeats 'he'.


I would also look at combining or rewording some of your senteances, to better give the impression of a scene in motion. For example, you could reword "The last of the shuttles was being torn apart by tank fire as chaos cultists tried to scurry inside, the resulting explosion engulfed them all" to make it more immediate, just by swapping 'engulfed' for 'engulfing'. It's a small change, but there are several places where you could do something like this to help with instancy and pacing.


It's certainly a good start, though, and something you can build on to make a great scene. Hope that helps.

Thanks for the input. I'll work on that.