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He inhaled.
The slow whirring in his left arm turned into a violent, high-pitched scream as fat bolter shells erupted from his fist. Each impact tore man-sized chunks from the pillars supporting the gallery, where a ragged band of traitors had thrown up defenses to make a desperate last stand. Screams accompanied by eruptions of steaming gore followed in his furious assault as men were struck and obliterated in the rain of mass-reactive shells. No defense can stand against the God-Emperor’s wrath, he thought, as the vox-speakers in his shoulders boomed with a glorious war hymn in His praise. He moved forward. His feet stamped on the lifeless bodies of foe and ally alike, and the ashes of war shook from the buildings as he passed. His arm continued to spit death, covering the advance of his comrades in arms that followed right behind him. The Mortanis Wolves surged onwards in his wake, adding scorching beams of las-fire to the fusillade. They are so small and frail, like raindrops battering against a wall of obsidian. But for each one that falls, a thousand more will follow and bring vengeance upon His enemies.
As he marched into the ruined square in front of the gallery, warning signs flashed red on his retina. Two Leman Russ battle tanks lumbered into his sight out of an avenue on his left, on the northern end of the square, their mud-caked treads bearing them towards the incoming wave of guardsmen at full speed. So the enemy has some more toys to play with. He laughed, and the sound rippled out across the square from his speakers. The closest Russ fired at him. The cannon shell exploded against his left shoulder guard, but the ion shield avoided him from being harmed as it deflected the energy of the blast. The second tank fired as well, but the shot went wide and detonated against a stone building behind him. He laughed again. The traitors must be panicking at the mere sight of me. He raised his right arm and activated the slumbering disruption field generator of his mighty hammer. His voice bellowed for all to hear. “RUIN AND DEATH!” The buzzing energy-field of the hammer crackled brightly as it slammed into the turret of the first tank and the steel frame of the Russ exploded outwards under the force of the blow. The soldiers inside didn’t even live long enough to scream. The smoking remains crumpled under his foot as he moved towards the second tank, which by now was frantically driving in reverse through the ruins trying to create some distance. He would not allow them to fire again. He hit the Russ hard with a low sweep of his hammer, causing it to lift off the ground and crash onto its side several meters further. A hatch in the top opened and four tiny figures tried to scramble outside as quickly as they could. Bursts of las-fire sliced through the ash-choked air, dismembering and killing the traitorous soldiers before they had stumbled more than a few feet from the wreckage.
The men of the Mortanis Wolves ran across the square to find cover behind broken statues and shattered fountains, and several of them lobbed grenades towards the gallery. Yet the traitors still did not give up. The distraction created by the tanks and the pause in the heavy fire from his gun had given them the time to carry a heavy bolter to the gallery, where the remains of two pillars provided them with some cover. The heavy bolter barked, the sound and sight of the firing gun forcing the guardsmen further into cover. Some of them were caught before they could sprint to safety and were torn apart in clouds of red mist. A voice reverberated through his skull, accompanied with the hiss-crackle of vox static. “My lord, we can’t hit that damned gunner from our current position...” The vox whailed for a moment. “…fire support. Deep thorn in left.” The distorted voice belonged to Captain Sammas, who was leading parts of the 19th Mortanis Wolves regiment in this push. A good soldier, he thought. A hard breed of man. The Wolves were full of men like that.
“Inserting deep thorn” he responded in battle-code, and again he swung his gun towards the crumbling gallery. Sensors quickly scanned the remaining structure and composition of the roof and pillars. Tactical readouts flashed in front of him, and he soon found his target...
This is only the beginning of a 40k story I was thinking about writing. If others find this part promising, I'll try to write more of it and share it here. Thanks for reading!
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