This is a short story I have thrown up for my DIY marine chapter which I shall be building in the project logs section shortly. Thy are going to be very fluff centric so I have gathered a lot of background for them, this story here is just a follow up from that.
In the style of parts of the
HH novels, it's from the perspective of a non Space Marine character to give a sense of awe and what have you. The character in this case beaing a guardsmen who is part of the planetry defence force on the chapters homeworld.
Where did you come from? where did you go? Where did you come from cotton eye j...and so it goes on.
The time was nearly upon us and the faces of my men plainly knew it. While their generation had never witnessed what they were about to see before, they had suffered the countless horror stories of their predecessors, most of whom would have wished they had never lived to tell the tale. Not a child on Hathor knew not of it and only a look to the spectacle of the systems trinary star brought it to mind. The final song of horns could be heard from behind, calling for us to take position. We took point and awaited whatever fate the God Emperor had chosen for us.
We had been positioned at the frontline, or sent to our deaths if you were to speak realistically. Placed in a trench which would be considered well built were it not for the foolishness of saying so. Over the red soil in front stood what remained of three ancient pillars, one for each of the planet’s suns which shone brightly above us. Around the pillars countless lines of trenches climbed the hills of the near circular valley. Within them stood over one million guardsmen each with the same fear of what was to come. They all had their weapons aimed towards the same point, waiting for an eternity unwilling to even blink should they miss the enemies’ arrival. Like them I shared their fears, and though I had heard countless descriptions and stories of what was to come in my lifetime, none of it made me feel confident that I knew what I was about to see. But the shaking voices which told me the same stories had left unbearable terror in my heart. This wasn’t helped by the gunshots which sounded every so often as one guardsman somewhere amidst the trenches took his own life. I could have sworn the shots were coming ever closer, as if they were the ticks of a clock counting towards the bitter end. How does a Sergeant give morale to his men in a moment like this I asked myself, shortly before asking myself why I hadn’t thought of an answer in the months before now. I looked to my men beside of me only to find them slipping glances back to me as if they were expecting me to say something. I could see they wanted some courageous speech to lift their hearts, but I knew that nothing I could say would suffice, instead I said nothing at all.
There was a glimmer of hope however and it was what every man who had the guts not to consider suicide was holding on to, and perhaps it wasn’t so shallow a hope. ‘The Death Reivers,’ the planet Hathor’s prided chapter of Astartes warriors stood somewhere awaiting the battle also. Their leader here was Captain Roûld Beogrund of The Reivers’ second company. I thought to myself if anyone could boost the morale here today it was him. A colossal specimen of might and strength, his presence was the only thing which made me glad I wasn’t on the enemies’ side. I had only ever seen him once in my lifetime and even then I could have covered him beneath my forefinger I was at such a distance, but a lasting impression he made nonetheless. If I could be so foolish as to make one wish at this moment it would be to survive just long enough so I could get one glimpse of him in battle. It was clear to me now why the commander had decided not to let the guardsmen know the Astartes position on the battlefield, save to have every man cowering behind each Space Marine as if they were a blast shield. The commanders themselves of course were most likely in some bunker five miles behind us feasting on the galaxies delicacies and toasting to the men they were about to lose…as if they cared. No, unlike the Astartes, we weren’t so lucky to have frontline leadership. In our regiment, rank bore a significant correlation to how likely you were to get killed. As you have most likely guessed, I didn’t appear too high on that list.
You see, where every guardsmen which stood here today relied on only the second hand memories of their forefathers to create an idea of what they were about to see, the Astartes knew exactly what was to come; many of them had seen it with their own eyes. It was well known that the direct alignment of the Hathor system’s three stars over the Pillars of Trilogy would only happen once every one hundred or so years. And it was also known that some of The Reivers’ number aged almost six times that amount. In fact rumour existed that Chapter Master Mihael Tabris, who was not present here today, served in the tenth company when the third pillar stood eight foot tall, twice it’s battle worn height today. In contrast many a generation of men had lived a full life on Hathor with the fortune of not having seen it once. The chapter had come to know the event so well it became part of their make up: every time the event would take place one captain of the Reivers’ ten was chosen by the entire chapter to lead a two hundred strong force against the enemy. For the captain in question their selection alone meant they had truly proven themselves as a leader. But perhaps the higher honour was to prove themselves amongst the other leaders, by showing just how emphatically they could dispense the enemy. By far the greatest example to have been heard of before today was that of Captain Amundus over two millennia ago; the story tells of how Amundus defeated the enemy within one hour and suffered the loss of only six marines. Of course what that story often forgets to mention, to my particular displeasure, is that it is believed over ten thousand guardsmen also died in that hour. History it seems, only serves to favour the winners.
The sound of one different and final horn made every one of my hairs stand on end. It’s tone sounded more like death than anything I had ever heard. Although strictly ordered not to, it was as if nobody on the battlefield could deny themselves a peak of the planet’s stars above, the three of them finally converging as they began to align directly above the pillars. As the light dimmed the silence was ended as a chorus of hopeless prayer, foolhardy battle cry and projectile vomit took hold. The suicide clock ticked faster as the weak of heart who had made it this far finally gave in. This was it I thought, this is death. And just as I expected to see a clichéd entirety of my life flash before my very eyes, something happened.
It was as if I had gone on to some afterlife, everything became so clear. Above the horror around me I could hear something in the distance. From a trench beyond my view to the right was a booming voice aloud with courage and excitement, rallying those around it. I knew it could be no other, Captain Beogrund was addressing his company as if the fear ebbing from guardsmen all around the valley was non existent. By the sudden halt of gunshot and murmur amongst everyone around me I knew I was not the only one listing to this, only in the far distance where those who did not have the privilege of hearing Beogrund’s booming battle song did it continue. For a moment I didn’t even notice that I couldn’t make out a word of what he was saying. I don’t think anyone else could either, we didn’t need to. By tone alone could that voice place spirit in even the most lowly mans heart. I could only imagine how the Marines he was actually addressing felt as apposed to the thousands of guardsmen shamelessly listening in. The sound raised for one final call which I could have sworn reached every corner of the valley in which the guardsmen awaited the battle ahead; “For Hathor!” The screaming cry aired aloud and after a volley of deep Astartes voices echoed it, so did every guardsman still standing. And that was it.
One quick glance to the sky and there it was, two stars hidden behind one. While light had actually been diminished it seemed brighter than ever, as one ray appeared to beam from the sun directly in-between the three pillars at the epicentre of the valley. A blinding flash then ensued. My vision turned stark white leaving me completely blind and a screeching tone in my ears deafened me. The only thing which reassured me I was still living was the stench of vomit which I was sure was still nearby. A second or so later and my senses began to slowly return. As the tone quietened it became replaced by a sonic onslaught of gunfire which I soon began to see was all being fired towards the pillars.
It was like nothing I had ever comprehended. No story in my memory did it’s horror justice but I knew with some vein of recognition that what stood between the three pillars was what I had been told of. The so called daemons of Tzeentch, thousands of them, spilling through a portal ripped from thin air between the three pillars. I pulled on the trigger of my Las-Gun as if I was clutching to a cliff edge ten thousand feet high, clenching my eyes shut as I did so. It can’t have been five seconds before I opened them again, yet now right in front of me stood some abomination of vivid colour and ever changing shape. I lifted my fire towards it punching las-pulses straight through it. I only managed one sigh of relief before I realised that what I thought I had just killed had actually turned into two creatures. One I managed to fire at but before I could see the result of my efforts the other had grappled it’s putty like tentacles around my head and was about to squeeze the contents of my skull through it’s newly manifested suckers. I felt one rip of Las-fire come clean past my head, tearing the daemon from me and taking what life it had away. I sat up to see one of my men panting rapidly, a smoking Las-Gun in hand. I didn’t really get much of a chance to thank him, nor warn him. One of the same creatures jumped into the trench behind him and before he had a chance to turn around I saw my first officer’s brains being puréed into a pink mulch. Time enough though, I had to stop it from doing the same to me; I took a clean shot at what I guessed to be it’s head and remembering the earlier encounter I had with one of it’s kind I followed through and murdered it’s two smaller children emerging from it’s remains.
It had not been a minute since the alignment yet now the battlefield had become a terrible theatre of horror and torture. In every direction the howling screeches of grown men screaming, a more demoralising sound I could not think of. I slumped down franticly with my back against the trench wall and reloaded my Las-gun. I was interrupted then by an old guardsman clambering through the trench on his hands on knees. For some unknown reason he was completely naked and covered in the spray of blood, he crawled over to me and grabbed my shoulders. “I hear him! He’s in my head!” He cried, blood frothing from his mouth as he did so. I tried to shake him from me but I seemed locked into his glare, made to witness his demise. With great struggle I kicked him away from me and recoiled against the back of the trench once more. I watched as his head began to inflate as if there were something being pumped inside trying to find a way out. Blood! Gushing through every gap it could find, spraying through his eyelids, ears and mouth with more force than a volcanic geyser. I tried hopelessly to shield myself with my bare hands but was showered with pint upon gallon of crimson blood. I would have emptied the contents of my stomach there and then had I already not done so half an hour ago. Then, suddenly, from the man’s body burst a huge creature which in an instant flared its two wings open to become ever larger. After the spray of blood had landed it’s true horror became clear and I knew exactly what I could see before me. It’s feathers, regal blue, deceptively glimmered in the light of the combined stars as if it were a creature of beauty, yet an ugliness was plain to see in it’s beak like head which chose to glare solely at me. The lord of change had cometh!
Time seemed to slow as I slumped down against the floor, in some sort of acceptance of my death and hope it wouldn’t be too painful. I could see the stars above, now merging apart slightly as their lock finally broke. The sky itself was blazen orange with streaks of red as Las-fire volleyed over from some trench in the hills above. In every third or fifth glint a blast shell could be seen, most likely fired from the barrel of a Basilisk miles from our location, I surmised. The pain then struck, I could feel something penetrate the heart of my abdomen and grab me from the inside and with it my view of the sky above was decorated with the slow motion descent of my innards coupled with a dazzling spray of blood. Three final breaths I took; one stinging my very heart with a sharpness, the next consolidating my bodies defeat and making way for the final curtain call. My third and final breath was divine, for not only did it free me ultimately from the terror and send me up to my release. But it was accompanied by a sight any man would be happy to have as their last. My gaze at the sky which had become a beautiful painting to me now, a landscape finer than any masterpiece on Terra, was complimented by a shadow; a figure, in great armour, which seemed to be launching itself toward the daemon as it swung a giant axe head in the same direction. At the centre of the axe I did see a familiar sight, a triangle symbolising the systems trinary star crafted in gold. I smiled as it reflected the light of the three stars into my eyes and blinded me as I transcended into a stark white domain which I would forever continue, happily, knowing my last wish in life had been fulfilled.
