# Arnheim-Fallen Angel



## Gruekillaz (Sep 28, 2008)

Arnheim ran along the beaten silently. He had been tracking Gor’Goma, an Ork chieftain for almost a fortnight now. The last time he had seen Gor’Goma had been at the battle of Stonegreave, though he did fail to eliminate the Ork during the battle. Unfortunate though, that the whole Imperial Guard garrison had met their end. They would have made perfect test subjects for his arcane spells and horrid poisons. He had concocted one especially creative little venom. When ingested, it caused the victim’s organs to melt, though painlessly, until the mushy pulp seeped out the bodily orifices. In fact he carried a small vial of the stuff now, clipped to his belt. He reserved this dose for Gor’Goma, Arnheim could hardly contain himself. He had to see this poison in action now. Stooping over the goat-path once more, he traced a large hobnailed boot print with his finger. These tracks could never have been made by feral Orks, these definitely belonged to his quarry. He could not be more than an hour behind the war band. Arnheim straightened his posture and gazed out over the sand flats of Agnatha IV. It was night, what hour he could not tell. He began to jog forward once more, as he had been doing for three days straight. He approached a large rocky outcropping, warily. It was a terrible spot to set up an ambush, a position here would be far too conspicuous. However, these were Orks. He approached slowly, Power Sword at the ready. He quietly advanced. “WHAAAAGH!” Three Goff tribe Orks leapt from the stone outcropping. Freeing his meltagun from his belt, Arnheim melted one Boy while he was in mid-leap. Lashing out with his jet black Power-Sword, he impaled a second savage through the abdomen. The third Ork brought his choppa screaming through the air. Sliding the sword from the second Ork’s viscera, Arnheim neatly parried, and then beheaded the remaining Ork. All of these proceedings lasted at the very least, thirty seconds. Arnheim sheathed his sword and continued his brisk run. Gor’Goma will pay for this travesty, vowed Arnheim, for the hundredth time. He mounted the crest of a knoll. Faintly in the distance he could see the fleeing column of Goffs. He began to sprint down the hill when the side of his head burst. The horned helmet shattered. Blood, brain and bone were launched from the gaping hole in his head. He stumbled and his lifeless body tumbled to the ground. The resounding crack of a sniper rifle rang out, its sound outrun by the slug. Hundreds of meters away, a prone figure in power armor and Dark Angels robes smiled to himself. “Heretic eliminated, Slaanesh be praised .”


----------

