Post by thatguyjames on Dec 13, 2005 11:28:46 GMT -5
Fire.
The first and last thing Dietrich always saw.
The scent of ashen air greeted him as his squad unloaded from the orbital insertion. Like so many missions on this planet, it was his job to now retaliate against the chaos invasion that had so recently claimed this town. What was this town's name again? He had fought in so many urban skirmishes that he could hardly remember what planet he was on anymore. He sighed wearily and looked over his shoulder to his men.
They sat in silence, each in his own small world. Some fiddled with settings on their jump packs, others cleaning their guns, greasing firing chambers, praying. They were so quiet these days, no longer the howling headstrong youths that had set off to claim glory in the name of the Emperor and Ultramar. These were men of true purpose, their eyes filled with grim determination. Despite the fact that they were literally minutes off of moving out, they appeared as though they had settled in for a long human sleep. Dietrich knew better though, he knew that once given the order, they would be in formation in less than 15 seconds. It was this supreme balance, this peace they emulated that made them so fierce. He walked up the hill to get a view over the ridge.
As he made his way up, he saw his second company moving along another hillside, into position. They moved swiftly and quietly, though, Dietrich mused, with the carnage occurring in the nearby town they could have had their engines roaring and still evaded detection. He settled down in the grass next to a scout who had been watching the town through a sniper scope. He held out his hand, the marine immediately surrendering his weapon with a short nod and drawing his bolter, in case the weapon was not returned.
Dietrich watched through the motion tracking as figure after figure ran wildly around inside the flames that wreathed the town. He watched as the larger, more grotesque figures cut down the smaller ones. Dietrich snarled and turned the scope off, handing the rifle back to the scout and heading back to the main company. He checked the timer on his HUD, it was time to move into position.
“Move.”
With that single order, the air around him erupted in sound and movement as the marines fell in place. They stood straight, tall, and proud. The deep blue of their armor shone in contrast to the pock marks of steel, remnants of ineffective bolter fire that had nearly taken each marines life a dozen times over. Golden lining glinted brightly in the noonday sun. The timer told Dietrich that the last marine fell into place in 13.2 seconds. He smiled and began his march to the rear flank.
*****
Inside the town, a single marine, consumed by his hatred of all the things he had once defended, charged on. In his hand was the leg of a small child he had found hiding under a bed in her room. They always hid there. He ran past a man who was crying on the ground, crushing his head under the overwhelming weight of his power armor boot. Some where, a mother with three children ran out of a house that had been lit ablaze. She clutched them protectively, but her feeble arms were no match for a clip of bolter fire. As he walked by the freshly created corpses, he picked what was left of them up and placed some of the more interesting bone fragments on his shoulder pads, along with a generous amount of innards.
As he charged on, he saw a slight glimpse beyond the flames in the fields beyond. The chaos marine tilted his head in an attempt to see the glimmer. As he exited the towering inferno of the city for a moment, he felt a shudder go up what was left of his spine. He never had a chance to react as the sniper bullet ripped through his deformed head. The body of blackened armor slumped to the ground.
*****
At first it wasn’t noticeable, due to the anarchy that was happening within, but it soon became apparent to the chaos marines inside the city that something was horribly wrong, and it wasn't them. The ground beneath their feet began to shake, soon growing so violent that even their leg stabilizers couldn’t keep them steady. One of the marines shouted to get to the northern perimeter and take up firing positions. As one, they dropped whoever or whatever they were destroying and rushed to the north. Reaching the edge of the fire, they stopped short, seeing a hundred Ultramarines charging forward, a column of Predator tanks coming right behind them. Scrambling, the Traitor Marines fell behind what cover remained and made ready to fire on the charging men.
However, just as the Ultras were about to come into range, they stopped short. The chaos forces looked at each other in anger and confusion. They began screaming and firing regardless of not being within range. The Ultramarines stood motionless, a mockery of the chaos effort.
Blood lust took over the minds of the berserker marines, as they drew their blades to charge. Several attempted to hold their comrades back, but it was too late to talk any sense into the hearts of madmen. The bloody red marines charged toward the loyalists, screaming and firing. The Ultras parted, revealing a second line of marines with heavy bolters. The air filled with the rapid release of white hot steel, a hail of suppressing bolter fire, interlocking at key points of the charge. The Khornates fell as the hollow tipped rounds ripped them to shreds.
Seeing the servant’s of the Emperor winning so easily was more than enough to whip the majority of the remaining chaos into a frenzy. They fired longer range weapons, striking a few marines and knocking them over, but not nearly enough to break them. Apothecaries appeared where the wounds had been grave and immediately began to heal the injured. The Ultramarines continued to stand, silent and vigilant, just the way the Emperor would have done. In the end it proved to be too much for the chaos forces as they charged forward by the hundreds, hell bent on ripping the Ultras apart piece by piece.
Again the bolter fire came, but this time it wasn’t enough to suppress the chaos charge. Piling over the bodies of the fallen, they continued to rush on. As the first traitor reached the firing line, the Ultras broke into 5 man Delta formations, falling back and firing. The gaps thus created in the line were quite large; the perfect size for a predator tank to pass through.
As the charge continued the chaos forces were shocked to see the behemoths driving right into their ranks at full speed. The air was filled with the crunch of ceramite and bone, overpowering the feeble screams of the d**ned as they realized it was too late. The boom of the guns ripped chaos marines apart from every angle, the bolter fire from the tactical squad picking them apart. The remaining chaos forces broke, charging back to the safety of their inferno. It was then that Dietrich and his assault squad charged.
In the vast fires that burned on the city border, there exploded hundreds of assault marines with jet packs. They flew out of the blaze at top speed, screaming into the retreating chaos army, swords and limbs flying everywhere. At the head of the charge was a single man in liquid black power armor, a golden staff of the aquilla in one hand, a blazing power sword in the other. His face was covered by a dark steel skull helm, devoid of expression. At the top of his lungs, amplified a hundred times over by his external vox speakers, Dietrich screamed the holy litanies of hate, the first word spoken by the Ultramarines since the fight has begun.
As the predator tanks continued to pound the forces alongside the tactical squads. Dietrich cut through two marines in one blow as he sped along though the crowds. It was all he could do to keep a chaos marine alive long enough to kill him before someone else did. The screams of the chaos forces were mirrored by the cold steely silence of the Ultras. Dietrich danced among the marines, much in the way Sanguinus had been fabled to do in the days of old. He ripped through his enemies as one would cut through the wind.
*****
Come the fall of night, The atmosphere was filled with the smoke of the extinguished city. They hadn’t been able to recover more than 100 people from this blaze, but the actual number didn’t matter. The pyre created for the traitor marines amplified the smoke. The black, billowing clouds would last for days, but it was the only way to make sure that the targets had been completely eliminated.
The apothecaries walked among the wounded soldiers and the recovered victims. A small girl sat with wide eyes, clutching her stuffed dog to her chest, staring at the fire. Brother Apothecary Jeste, his helmet strapped to his waist, walked up to where she sat, kneeling down to check her for wounds. She couldn’t be any older than 6, with long dark hair, frayed and burned now. Her pale skin was the color of white ash, despite it being a warm night and having a blanket over her shoulders, she still shuddered. He looked into her eyes, and saw the signs of a broken mind caused by the horror she had seen. He winced silently and worked on. She watched him as his giant hands delicately worked her skin, checking for abrasions, breaks, and cuts. The white power armor served as a sharp contrast to the blacks and reds that the bad men had worn. She looked at him with haunted eyes.
“Are they gone now?”
Jeste stopped and looked to the pyre. A marine threw the head of a chaos sergeant onto the fire. The blaze roared to life for a moment, consuming it’s newest prize. He looked back to her and nodded his head slowly.
“One day little one, one day.”
Back at base camp, Dietrich paced back and forth among the gathered troops who had survived the battle. Though it had been a complete massacre, three marines had been too seriously wounded to continue on. He spoke in a clear voice, singing out the words that he had given so many times before, honoring the dead, whom it seemed Dietrich knew personally more and more these days. Their armor was consecrated and stored in special containers, to be bought back to the main ship and redistributed to the next scout to be promoted.
“Battle Brother Trenmore, Battle Brother Lokin, Battle Brother Artile, you have served your Emperor faithfully, without question, straight unto death. We expected nothing less of you. Let it be known that these men have had their names entered into the books of honor.”
The Ultramarines saluted as twenty one special company locked and loaded their bolters. Their movements were precise and measured, perfectly in time, as they readied the salute. Brother Sergeant Telso stood rigid as the cases slammed into their waiting bolters.
“Fire!”
As one, the twenty one marines fired off a bolt shell to the sky, the collective crack sending the majority of the civilians in the area to the ground. Three times they fired off a shell, three times for the men who had given their lives in the name of duty.
Somewhere away from the pyre and base camp, a man sat with his wife, watching the stars. It was amazing that home could go from peace to total war and then back to peace all in one day. He put his hand on hers and smiled.
Out by the pyre, Dietrich threw the last remnants of his enemy into the blaze. This pyre would serve as a beacon to send a ship to pick them up. Just like the last time, and the time before that, this story started and ended the same way.
Fire.
The first and last thing Dietrich always saw.
The scent of ashen air greeted him as his squad unloaded from the orbital insertion. Like so many missions on this planet, it was his job to now retaliate against the chaos invasion that had so recently claimed this town. What was this town's name again? He had fought in so many urban skirmishes that he could hardly remember what planet he was on anymore. He sighed wearily and looked over his shoulder to his men.
They sat in silence, each in his own small world. Some fiddled with settings on their jump packs, others cleaning their guns, greasing firing chambers, praying. They were so quiet these days, no longer the howling headstrong youths that had set off to claim glory in the name of the Emperor and Ultramar. These were men of true purpose, their eyes filled with grim determination. Despite the fact that they were literally minutes off of moving out, they appeared as though they had settled in for a long human sleep. Dietrich knew better though, he knew that once given the order, they would be in formation in less than 15 seconds. It was this supreme balance, this peace they emulated that made them so fierce. He walked up the hill to get a view over the ridge.
As he made his way up, he saw his second company moving along another hillside, into position. They moved swiftly and quietly, though, Dietrich mused, with the carnage occurring in the nearby town they could have had their engines roaring and still evaded detection. He settled down in the grass next to a scout who had been watching the town through a sniper scope. He held out his hand, the marine immediately surrendering his weapon with a short nod and drawing his bolter, in case the weapon was not returned.
Dietrich watched through the motion tracking as figure after figure ran wildly around inside the flames that wreathed the town. He watched as the larger, more grotesque figures cut down the smaller ones. Dietrich snarled and turned the scope off, handing the rifle back to the scout and heading back to the main company. He checked the timer on his HUD, it was time to move into position.
“Move.”
With that single order, the air around him erupted in sound and movement as the marines fell in place. They stood straight, tall, and proud. The deep blue of their armor shone in contrast to the pock marks of steel, remnants of ineffective bolter fire that had nearly taken each marines life a dozen times over. Golden lining glinted brightly in the noonday sun. The timer told Dietrich that the last marine fell into place in 13.2 seconds. He smiled and began his march to the rear flank.
*****
Inside the town, a single marine, consumed by his hatred of all the things he had once defended, charged on. In his hand was the leg of a small child he had found hiding under a bed in her room. They always hid there. He ran past a man who was crying on the ground, crushing his head under the overwhelming weight of his power armor boot. Some where, a mother with three children ran out of a house that had been lit ablaze. She clutched them protectively, but her feeble arms were no match for a clip of bolter fire. As he walked by the freshly created corpses, he picked what was left of them up and placed some of the more interesting bone fragments on his shoulder pads, along with a generous amount of innards.
As he charged on, he saw a slight glimpse beyond the flames in the fields beyond. The chaos marine tilted his head in an attempt to see the glimmer. As he exited the towering inferno of the city for a moment, he felt a shudder go up what was left of his spine. He never had a chance to react as the sniper bullet ripped through his deformed head. The body of blackened armor slumped to the ground.
*****
At first it wasn’t noticeable, due to the anarchy that was happening within, but it soon became apparent to the chaos marines inside the city that something was horribly wrong, and it wasn't them. The ground beneath their feet began to shake, soon growing so violent that even their leg stabilizers couldn’t keep them steady. One of the marines shouted to get to the northern perimeter and take up firing positions. As one, they dropped whoever or whatever they were destroying and rushed to the north. Reaching the edge of the fire, they stopped short, seeing a hundred Ultramarines charging forward, a column of Predator tanks coming right behind them. Scrambling, the Traitor Marines fell behind what cover remained and made ready to fire on the charging men.
However, just as the Ultras were about to come into range, they stopped short. The chaos forces looked at each other in anger and confusion. They began screaming and firing regardless of not being within range. The Ultramarines stood motionless, a mockery of the chaos effort.
Blood lust took over the minds of the berserker marines, as they drew their blades to charge. Several attempted to hold their comrades back, but it was too late to talk any sense into the hearts of madmen. The bloody red marines charged toward the loyalists, screaming and firing. The Ultras parted, revealing a second line of marines with heavy bolters. The air filled with the rapid release of white hot steel, a hail of suppressing bolter fire, interlocking at key points of the charge. The Khornates fell as the hollow tipped rounds ripped them to shreds.
Seeing the servant’s of the Emperor winning so easily was more than enough to whip the majority of the remaining chaos into a frenzy. They fired longer range weapons, striking a few marines and knocking them over, but not nearly enough to break them. Apothecaries appeared where the wounds had been grave and immediately began to heal the injured. The Ultramarines continued to stand, silent and vigilant, just the way the Emperor would have done. In the end it proved to be too much for the chaos forces as they charged forward by the hundreds, hell bent on ripping the Ultras apart piece by piece.
Again the bolter fire came, but this time it wasn’t enough to suppress the chaos charge. Piling over the bodies of the fallen, they continued to rush on. As the first traitor reached the firing line, the Ultras broke into 5 man Delta formations, falling back and firing. The gaps thus created in the line were quite large; the perfect size for a predator tank to pass through.
As the charge continued the chaos forces were shocked to see the behemoths driving right into their ranks at full speed. The air was filled with the crunch of ceramite and bone, overpowering the feeble screams of the d**ned as they realized it was too late. The boom of the guns ripped chaos marines apart from every angle, the bolter fire from the tactical squad picking them apart. The remaining chaos forces broke, charging back to the safety of their inferno. It was then that Dietrich and his assault squad charged.
In the vast fires that burned on the city border, there exploded hundreds of assault marines with jet packs. They flew out of the blaze at top speed, screaming into the retreating chaos army, swords and limbs flying everywhere. At the head of the charge was a single man in liquid black power armor, a golden staff of the aquilla in one hand, a blazing power sword in the other. His face was covered by a dark steel skull helm, devoid of expression. At the top of his lungs, amplified a hundred times over by his external vox speakers, Dietrich screamed the holy litanies of hate, the first word spoken by the Ultramarines since the fight has begun.
As the predator tanks continued to pound the forces alongside the tactical squads. Dietrich cut through two marines in one blow as he sped along though the crowds. It was all he could do to keep a chaos marine alive long enough to kill him before someone else did. The screams of the chaos forces were mirrored by the cold steely silence of the Ultras. Dietrich danced among the marines, much in the way Sanguinus had been fabled to do in the days of old. He ripped through his enemies as one would cut through the wind.
*****
Come the fall of night, The atmosphere was filled with the smoke of the extinguished city. They hadn’t been able to recover more than 100 people from this blaze, but the actual number didn’t matter. The pyre created for the traitor marines amplified the smoke. The black, billowing clouds would last for days, but it was the only way to make sure that the targets had been completely eliminated.
The apothecaries walked among the wounded soldiers and the recovered victims. A small girl sat with wide eyes, clutching her stuffed dog to her chest, staring at the fire. Brother Apothecary Jeste, his helmet strapped to his waist, walked up to where she sat, kneeling down to check her for wounds. She couldn’t be any older than 6, with long dark hair, frayed and burned now. Her pale skin was the color of white ash, despite it being a warm night and having a blanket over her shoulders, she still shuddered. He looked into her eyes, and saw the signs of a broken mind caused by the horror she had seen. He winced silently and worked on. She watched him as his giant hands delicately worked her skin, checking for abrasions, breaks, and cuts. The white power armor served as a sharp contrast to the blacks and reds that the bad men had worn. She looked at him with haunted eyes.
“Are they gone now?”
Jeste stopped and looked to the pyre. A marine threw the head of a chaos sergeant onto the fire. The blaze roared to life for a moment, consuming it’s newest prize. He looked back to her and nodded his head slowly.
“One day little one, one day.”
Back at base camp, Dietrich paced back and forth among the gathered troops who had survived the battle. Though it had been a complete massacre, three marines had been too seriously wounded to continue on. He spoke in a clear voice, singing out the words that he had given so many times before, honoring the dead, whom it seemed Dietrich knew personally more and more these days. Their armor was consecrated and stored in special containers, to be bought back to the main ship and redistributed to the next scout to be promoted.
“Battle Brother Trenmore, Battle Brother Lokin, Battle Brother Artile, you have served your Emperor faithfully, without question, straight unto death. We expected nothing less of you. Let it be known that these men have had their names entered into the books of honor.”
The Ultramarines saluted as twenty one special company locked and loaded their bolters. Their movements were precise and measured, perfectly in time, as they readied the salute. Brother Sergeant Telso stood rigid as the cases slammed into their waiting bolters.
“Fire!”
As one, the twenty one marines fired off a bolt shell to the sky, the collective crack sending the majority of the civilians in the area to the ground. Three times they fired off a shell, three times for the men who had given their lives in the name of duty.
Somewhere away from the pyre and base camp, a man sat with his wife, watching the stars. It was amazing that home could go from peace to total war and then back to peace all in one day. He put his hand on hers and smiled.
Out by the pyre, Dietrich threw the last remnants of his enemy into the blaze. This pyre would serve as a beacon to send a ship to pick them up. Just like the last time, and the time before that, this story started and ended the same way.
Fire.
