Post by Crushter on Mar 19, 2009 20:57:37 GMT -5
((As the title states, these are my shorts.))
Sands of Hell
Captain Xellon ducked again as hellish bursts of scything sands whisked along the sand dunes of the planet. The name of the burning giant was Gellion, and it was seated quite close to the systems sun. Ancient monolith like stones were the only respite to the constant emptiness of the planet, and shifting sands even covered those from time to time. No life had breathed upon the oxygen rich world since it's birth.
Until now.
Many months ago, the Ork Warship known as Dah Monstah had crashed upon the shifting sands here. Orbital intelligence had viewed the wreckage, taking note that the surviving crew dislodged themselves and began to strip the ship down, and turn it into a settlement. Dah Monstah was a massive ship. It was most likely as large as a continent. The fact that it flew was a majestic ideal, it's true form now sadly ruined as it's wings and guns had been removed, and replaced to form a base to shelter the Orks from the harsh sands. The Clan embosser was stripped away, making it impossible to derive what clan this army came from. The Impierium had at first ignored it, believing the Orks would burn out from the proximity to the sun, but the opposite proved true. The monsters thrived, killing each other in order to make more of themselves, their xeno spores drifting and settling, and budding, creating more of the powerful creatures.
Snapshots had selected out a large Ork, most likely their leader, he apparently lived in the massively armored front part of the hull that had been untouched, as it's cannons still worked. Proof of that came from the devastating test shots fired. The monster had been spotted organizing the orks, helping them build and create more war machines. The ambitious orks had discovered rich minerals in the earth, and were obviously building ships to call in more brethren. With the proximity to a western fringe Impierium planet, the local Space Marine Chapter had been called in.
And so here stood Captain Xellon of Regiment Three of the Shock Claws, a splinter of the Imperial Fists.
He turned to look at his men, sixty in number. The nearest planet had been able to spare ten of it's Leman Russ Tanks, great iron crushers with cannons that could reach far distances, with heavy bolters attached to the side.
He gestured to his two sergeants. One was a Techmarine, by the name of Jelt and though he had great skill with the machines, he was a fearsome warrior in combat, his mechanical attachments whirring and spinning and killing. The other was the only Terminator they could spare. He was Walun, and was a glory to behold, his dark, shining blue and black body careening through xenos with ease, his shield deflecting heavy infantry fire, his shock hammer turning the air around him a dense pink and crimson.
Xellon could see the front gates were sparse in terms of defense, and figured that was caused from the immense size of the base, causing them to forgo ramparts from which the Orks could fire down at his troops. Xellon smiled. That may well be their undoing. His power sword's handle gripped firmly, he relayed his plan to his soldiers. They agreed soundly. His orders were relayed to his comrades, and the drivers cleaned the constant sand out of the treads, and the Leman Russ' crested the hill, their silver armor glinting in the sunlight. It was high noon, and there was no where to hide.
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Shoota Ork Nob Kuh-Nc mulled around, kicking at sand as his Boyz sat, bored in the shade from the curving inward walls. Their steel structure sound even though it was quickly constructed. That's when the Nob spotted a shining from the barrel of a tank came over a hill. His red eyes went wide as nine more followed it, and the Ork screamed, "Yaaah! Dah hu-" He'd never finish his sentence. The front line tanks opened fire with their cannons, aiming for the small force in front of the main gate. The Nob was vaporized in a blazing fire that shredded his bones and splattered his alien gore across the gate. Many of the simple Shoota Boyz were shredded along with him. Bikaz realized the threat and gunned off, powerful Dakka Cannonz firing away, but only leaving scratches on the pristine Imperium Tanks. As the Bikaz closed in, Tankbustaz on the back of them pulled out their rokkits.
It was too late. Even though the tanks' cannons had opened fire on the metal gate, the gunners on the side, massive heavy bolters, were given the duty to fire at will. The powerful rounds broke apart the flimsy metal that held the bikes together, and exploded, tearing limbs and sending spattering black blood everywhere. The Bikaz died, and not a tank was harmed. The iron treads of the Emperor closed in, punching holes into the wall.
And then Captain Xellon and his regiment crested the hill, swords and mauls drawn, roaring a battle cry, as the tanks lowered ramming scoops, and gunned their engines.
The Shock Claws stampeded up to the tanks, who soon crunched and separated the gates, to reveal a terror from the Ork's lair.
Thousands of orks had gathered, leaving no room but for green, their red eyes and white and purple armor. A giant ork, their Warboss stood on a podium, the skulls of many space marines attached to a large cross that was strapped to his back, as well as a banner was attached, which had the design of a big gun with a similar gun to form an x, while a large mouth engulfed the symbol. His armor was spiked and he gave a image of doom, a massive axe in each hand, chain blades revving on each edge. His face was taunt green skin, and a cybernetic eye beheld the intruders. He gave a great bellow, and screamed,
"WAAAAAAAAAAGH! Get dah humies mah Gunna Teefs!"
Space Marines in turn screamed, Captian Xellon rushing forward.
Blood flew as bolter and dakka fire crisscrossed. Rokkits and Lascannon fired into heavy vehicles, and swords and choppaz clashed. Fire and smoke burnt the lungs while the acrid smell of gunfire filled the nose, blood covered limbs, and blood spewed from them. Xellon stood in a pool of gore, orks still charging, until he took the charge, his terminator ally behind him, holding off the monsters. He hopped, lept, and drew his power sword, etched with the runes of many past battles. His banner, a copy of the Imperial Fists, only blue with a white fist with crackling energies bursting from it was attached to his back. He chuckled.
"So. Warboss, what is your name so when I kill you in the name of my brothers, I can etch your name alongside your bretheren." The human's voice was cold with contempt and ready if the monster were to strike now.
Below the podium, slugga boyz crisscrossed with close combat Marines, shotguns and flamers shredding the orks, while the orks massive blades cleaved the brave soldiers. Cries of "Waaagh!" and "For the Emperor!" sounded out, along with gunfire and screams of agony.
The tower of an ork sneered, his massive teeth clacking. "Humie. Youz a fool fah comin' 'ere. I'mma add youz flag tah my collection." And without another word, he charged. Xellon blocked the double strike, the eldrich fire flaring as honed sharp teeth jittered along the edge of the blade. The human roared, his enhanced muscles straining against the Orks impossible strength. The monster gave a bellowing roar, and continued the assault. Xellon dove to the side, causing the beast to roar and topple, sending him crashing to the ground. The human gave a bestial roar of victory and jumped to the ground, landing on the Warboss's shoulders, just as he stood. The monster grunted and fell to the ground once more, and as Xellon rose his sword to deliver a blow, the ork raised an ax. Sparks flew again, and the monster roared.
"I'm da biggest!" More sparks, and Xellon strained. "I'm da bestest!" The moster stood, leaning again. "I'm Warboss Brutalion, and this, THIS IS MY WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" The nearby orks, beginning to lose to the discipline of the Shock Claws, ancient discipline from the Imperial Fists, struck up, following his scream. The Leman Russ tanks fired as fast as they could, but soon became overwhelmed, their massive explosions rocking the infantry. Xellon struggled, and shifted, the ork stumbled again. Ferocious blows were traded, the ork's chain axes tearing flesh from bone, the power sword burning flesh and cleaving bone. The fighters were isolated, and when a respite formed, Xellon realized a terrible fact.
His men, brave as they were, and miscalculated. They were swarmed, the green tide bearing upon them. If the Warboss had been killed earlier, perhaps a different story would have been written. But his men, they were dead. The only reason the two were alive was the fact that it was a dual. The Warboss cackled. "Aaah. Aahahag! Now, now wez gonna fight dis like warriahs." The Warboss laid down his weapons and ordered the Xellon to follow him. They reached the top of the podium once more.
"Nah. Draw yah sword." Xellon did so. "Iffin I die, dah boyz'll go. Iffinz youz die, wellz, hahahaz to yah." And before the Space Marine could speak, the chain axes were upon him once more.
"I'm Brutalion and onea uz is gonna die 'ere!" The roar was deafening. But Xellon held strong. His blade twisted past the ork's defenses, and sought a sheath in his green flesh. The monster's roar was cut short, the eldrich fire in his heart destroying major organs.
In a swift, beautiful move, Xellon pulled out his blade, swung it to rid it of the black blood, and sheathed it.
Warboss Brutalion crumpled. The red light in his eyes gone. The boyz looked on in fear. And took to their craft, the swarm moving away. They engines roared, and thousands of ork vehicles blasted off. Saddened, Xellon etched yet another Warboss's name into his blade. The Captian also took the monster's flag, and his jaw cover, trophys for his room. As the message was relayed and Thunderhawks landed, Xellon sighed again, his mind had wandered away from the fact he did great justice for his Emperor, slaying many xenos. It instead wandered to why he had to waste good men, for a man that would never set foot on this planet.
He shook his head and boarded a Thunderhawk, and was taken back to his home, where more troops would have to be taken in to support the last man of Third Company. Again.
Third Company of the Shock Claws. The Matyr Company.
Sands of Hell
Captain Xellon ducked again as hellish bursts of scything sands whisked along the sand dunes of the planet. The name of the burning giant was Gellion, and it was seated quite close to the systems sun. Ancient monolith like stones were the only respite to the constant emptiness of the planet, and shifting sands even covered those from time to time. No life had breathed upon the oxygen rich world since it's birth.
Until now.
Many months ago, the Ork Warship known as Dah Monstah had crashed upon the shifting sands here. Orbital intelligence had viewed the wreckage, taking note that the surviving crew dislodged themselves and began to strip the ship down, and turn it into a settlement. Dah Monstah was a massive ship. It was most likely as large as a continent. The fact that it flew was a majestic ideal, it's true form now sadly ruined as it's wings and guns had been removed, and replaced to form a base to shelter the Orks from the harsh sands. The Clan embosser was stripped away, making it impossible to derive what clan this army came from. The Impierium had at first ignored it, believing the Orks would burn out from the proximity to the sun, but the opposite proved true. The monsters thrived, killing each other in order to make more of themselves, their xeno spores drifting and settling, and budding, creating more of the powerful creatures.
Snapshots had selected out a large Ork, most likely their leader, he apparently lived in the massively armored front part of the hull that had been untouched, as it's cannons still worked. Proof of that came from the devastating test shots fired. The monster had been spotted organizing the orks, helping them build and create more war machines. The ambitious orks had discovered rich minerals in the earth, and were obviously building ships to call in more brethren. With the proximity to a western fringe Impierium planet, the local Space Marine Chapter had been called in.
And so here stood Captain Xellon of Regiment Three of the Shock Claws, a splinter of the Imperial Fists.
He turned to look at his men, sixty in number. The nearest planet had been able to spare ten of it's Leman Russ Tanks, great iron crushers with cannons that could reach far distances, with heavy bolters attached to the side.
He gestured to his two sergeants. One was a Techmarine, by the name of Jelt and though he had great skill with the machines, he was a fearsome warrior in combat, his mechanical attachments whirring and spinning and killing. The other was the only Terminator they could spare. He was Walun, and was a glory to behold, his dark, shining blue and black body careening through xenos with ease, his shield deflecting heavy infantry fire, his shock hammer turning the air around him a dense pink and crimson.
Xellon could see the front gates were sparse in terms of defense, and figured that was caused from the immense size of the base, causing them to forgo ramparts from which the Orks could fire down at his troops. Xellon smiled. That may well be their undoing. His power sword's handle gripped firmly, he relayed his plan to his soldiers. They agreed soundly. His orders were relayed to his comrades, and the drivers cleaned the constant sand out of the treads, and the Leman Russ' crested the hill, their silver armor glinting in the sunlight. It was high noon, and there was no where to hide.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shoota Ork Nob Kuh-Nc mulled around, kicking at sand as his Boyz sat, bored in the shade from the curving inward walls. Their steel structure sound even though it was quickly constructed. That's when the Nob spotted a shining from the barrel of a tank came over a hill. His red eyes went wide as nine more followed it, and the Ork screamed, "Yaaah! Dah hu-" He'd never finish his sentence. The front line tanks opened fire with their cannons, aiming for the small force in front of the main gate. The Nob was vaporized in a blazing fire that shredded his bones and splattered his alien gore across the gate. Many of the simple Shoota Boyz were shredded along with him. Bikaz realized the threat and gunned off, powerful Dakka Cannonz firing away, but only leaving scratches on the pristine Imperium Tanks. As the Bikaz closed in, Tankbustaz on the back of them pulled out their rokkits.
It was too late. Even though the tanks' cannons had opened fire on the metal gate, the gunners on the side, massive heavy bolters, were given the duty to fire at will. The powerful rounds broke apart the flimsy metal that held the bikes together, and exploded, tearing limbs and sending spattering black blood everywhere. The Bikaz died, and not a tank was harmed. The iron treads of the Emperor closed in, punching holes into the wall.
And then Captain Xellon and his regiment crested the hill, swords and mauls drawn, roaring a battle cry, as the tanks lowered ramming scoops, and gunned their engines.
The Shock Claws stampeded up to the tanks, who soon crunched and separated the gates, to reveal a terror from the Ork's lair.
Thousands of orks had gathered, leaving no room but for green, their red eyes and white and purple armor. A giant ork, their Warboss stood on a podium, the skulls of many space marines attached to a large cross that was strapped to his back, as well as a banner was attached, which had the design of a big gun with a similar gun to form an x, while a large mouth engulfed the symbol. His armor was spiked and he gave a image of doom, a massive axe in each hand, chain blades revving on each edge. His face was taunt green skin, and a cybernetic eye beheld the intruders. He gave a great bellow, and screamed,
"WAAAAAAAAAAGH! Get dah humies mah Gunna Teefs!"
Space Marines in turn screamed, Captian Xellon rushing forward.
Blood flew as bolter and dakka fire crisscrossed. Rokkits and Lascannon fired into heavy vehicles, and swords and choppaz clashed. Fire and smoke burnt the lungs while the acrid smell of gunfire filled the nose, blood covered limbs, and blood spewed from them. Xellon stood in a pool of gore, orks still charging, until he took the charge, his terminator ally behind him, holding off the monsters. He hopped, lept, and drew his power sword, etched with the runes of many past battles. His banner, a copy of the Imperial Fists, only blue with a white fist with crackling energies bursting from it was attached to his back. He chuckled.
"So. Warboss, what is your name so when I kill you in the name of my brothers, I can etch your name alongside your bretheren." The human's voice was cold with contempt and ready if the monster were to strike now.
Below the podium, slugga boyz crisscrossed with close combat Marines, shotguns and flamers shredding the orks, while the orks massive blades cleaved the brave soldiers. Cries of "Waaagh!" and "For the Emperor!" sounded out, along with gunfire and screams of agony.
The tower of an ork sneered, his massive teeth clacking. "Humie. Youz a fool fah comin' 'ere. I'mma add youz flag tah my collection." And without another word, he charged. Xellon blocked the double strike, the eldrich fire flaring as honed sharp teeth jittered along the edge of the blade. The human roared, his enhanced muscles straining against the Orks impossible strength. The monster gave a bellowing roar, and continued the assault. Xellon dove to the side, causing the beast to roar and topple, sending him crashing to the ground. The human gave a bestial roar of victory and jumped to the ground, landing on the Warboss's shoulders, just as he stood. The monster grunted and fell to the ground once more, and as Xellon rose his sword to deliver a blow, the ork raised an ax. Sparks flew again, and the monster roared.
"I'm da biggest!" More sparks, and Xellon strained. "I'm da bestest!" The moster stood, leaning again. "I'm Warboss Brutalion, and this, THIS IS MY WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" The nearby orks, beginning to lose to the discipline of the Shock Claws, ancient discipline from the Imperial Fists, struck up, following his scream. The Leman Russ tanks fired as fast as they could, but soon became overwhelmed, their massive explosions rocking the infantry. Xellon struggled, and shifted, the ork stumbled again. Ferocious blows were traded, the ork's chain axes tearing flesh from bone, the power sword burning flesh and cleaving bone. The fighters were isolated, and when a respite formed, Xellon realized a terrible fact.
His men, brave as they were, and miscalculated. They were swarmed, the green tide bearing upon them. If the Warboss had been killed earlier, perhaps a different story would have been written. But his men, they were dead. The only reason the two were alive was the fact that it was a dual. The Warboss cackled. "Aaah. Aahahag! Now, now wez gonna fight dis like warriahs." The Warboss laid down his weapons and ordered the Xellon to follow him. They reached the top of the podium once more.
"Nah. Draw yah sword." Xellon did so. "Iffin I die, dah boyz'll go. Iffinz youz die, wellz, hahahaz to yah." And before the Space Marine could speak, the chain axes were upon him once more.
"I'm Brutalion and onea uz is gonna die 'ere!" The roar was deafening. But Xellon held strong. His blade twisted past the ork's defenses, and sought a sheath in his green flesh. The monster's roar was cut short, the eldrich fire in his heart destroying major organs.
In a swift, beautiful move, Xellon pulled out his blade, swung it to rid it of the black blood, and sheathed it.
Warboss Brutalion crumpled. The red light in his eyes gone. The boyz looked on in fear. And took to their craft, the swarm moving away. They engines roared, and thousands of ork vehicles blasted off. Saddened, Xellon etched yet another Warboss's name into his blade. The Captian also took the monster's flag, and his jaw cover, trophys for his room. As the message was relayed and Thunderhawks landed, Xellon sighed again, his mind had wandered away from the fact he did great justice for his Emperor, slaying many xenos. It instead wandered to why he had to waste good men, for a man that would never set foot on this planet.
He shook his head and boarded a Thunderhawk, and was taken back to his home, where more troops would have to be taken in to support the last man of Third Company. Again.
Third Company of the Shock Claws. The Matyr Company.
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