# The Winds of Chaos are Cold, Indeed.



## Pirate Metal Troy (Jun 2, 2008)

"Hell of a time for a blizzard," acting Sgt. Michaelson muttered to himself. "Can't see a damned thing!" Flipping through the viewscreen channels, he found they all yielded the same picture; Snow. Snow, snow, and more snow. The occasional edge of a frozen bunker, or walkway. 

Reaching for his coffee he said, "You boys better draw straws before lunch"

"Excuse me, Sir?" came a voice from the corner,

"Someone needs to shovel the walk"

"And why do WE have to do it?" chimed another,

Michaelson wheeled around in his chair to face the cadet and stated plainly, "Because I'm in charge, and what I say goes. If you don't do it soon, we'll be trapped in here and we'll all freeze to death! heh." The entire command room chuckled softy to themselves.

Turning back to the viewscreen, Michaelson's heart skipped a beat. Something was there, only barely visible in the snow. He pushed his nose closer to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

"What the hell? No one's supposed to be in sector 9", Michaelson gripped the edges of the viewscreen so hard his knuckles turned white as a second figure began to emerge from the white-wash, and then a third. "Oh no," the sound of panic in his voice, he leapt up from his seat and made for the alarm. 

"RED ALERT! EVERYONE TO Y-"

<vVVVOOOMMMMmm> The command center shook violently, knocking the acting Sgt. to the floor. Dust and debris fell from the cieling. The lights flickered. Michaelson looked about himself to check on the rest of the command crew. Staggering to his feet he pulled the alarm lever and shouted for battle stations.

"Get the lasguns online, NOW!", the Sgt.'s words were half muffled by the sound of heavy bolter shells. "Concentrate all fire near the power stations, don't let them near the generators!"

Just then, the lasgun emplacements whirred to life, and the lights dimmed in the command bunker for a moment. The lasguns began to unleash upon the enemy, and it was a welcome sound. Brushing the dust from his monitor, Michaelson grinned at the though of his men's las-weapons tearing the enemy to shreds. But the scene on his monitor was quite the opposite. He watched in horror and one las-bolt after another hit it's mark, but passed right through the enemy without harming them at all. 

The attackers on the screen were now clearly visible as the traitorous Thousand Sons. Their helmet crests tall and menacing, bolters and power armor glowing an erie blue. Like an unstoppable tide they marched. The small guard platoon was ill prepared for such a vicious foe, and the Sgt. knew it. They'd have to find a lace to take them on one by one.

"Saddle up, we need to go." he donned his coat and his favorite sword and bolt pistol. He snatched up a picture of a young woman from his desk, and stuffing it into his pocket made for the bunker door. 

Swinging the door open as hard as he could Michaelson made a mad dash for the barracks, where some of the men had radioed for backup not moments before. His fellow soldiers followed close behind. several bolter shots whizzed and snapped at their feet as they ran. From the corner of his eye the Sgt. caught a glimpse of a monstrous figure, wreathed in a green mist. The safety of the barrack walls cut off his view of the figure. Seven more men awaited Sgt. Michaelson and his crew.

"Is this it?" he asked, out of breath, "are we all that's left?"

"Yeah," someone relpied "There's eleven of us now"

"Alright boys, keep your heads down, and pistols up! we'll take em out one by one!" he paused for a moment "how many?" he asked reluctantly

"Last report indicates only 5, but there could be more by now"

"ONLY FIVE?!" disgusted and angry, he slammed his fist against his leg "how could only five do this?"

Michaelson moved to the wall and eased slowly towards the edge. peering around the corner he saw nothing. No shadowy figures, no distant shapes. Even the sound of weapons fire had all but ceased.

"it's quiet" came a voice from behind "I don't like this"

Hurrying back from the doorway, that same baleful green glow filled the door behind him

"SERGEANT GET DOWN!"

He leapt as hard as he could, just barely making it around the corner. Throwing himself at the wall to his left, he curled into a ball as sorcerous flame and the screams of his comrades filled the room. When the roar of flames and agony finally died out, he heard voice speak, slow and heartless.

"Let the wind of chaos blow. Let Its icy fingers claw your souls, and bring you swift death."

When acting Sgt. Adam Michaelson came to, he could see the sky. The walls of barracks had collapsed in around him and It was now mid day. The storm had all but vanished, and listnening hard it seemed that the traitorous marines and done what they came to do and had long since departed. His hands and face stinging from frostbite, he tried to pull his legs free, looking down in dismay at the 3 tonne slab of granite that lay across the better part if his chins and feet. For what seemed like hours he struggled against the weight of the granite chunk crushing his legs, finally succumbing to exhaustion. Fumbling in his coat with frostbitten hands he took out a cigarette and painfully lit it with his last few matches. Hypothermia was now well set in and he was shaking near uncontrollably. Reaching into the other pocket he tried to pull out the picture of the young woman.

As soon as the picture left his pocket, the wind picked up and a small gust of wind carried it away, fluttering off into the distance.

He laughed out loud, despite it all, and said:

"...And we'll all freeze to death"


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## Inquisitor Aurelius (Jun 9, 2008)

Not bad. Just two nitpicks: firstly, why would lasbolts (or anything else, for that matter) pass straight through the Sons? And secondly, the overuse of Sgt. is somewhat abrasive. Why not write it out as sergeant?


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## Pirate Metal Troy (Jun 2, 2008)

Possibly in a hurry, not sure. And good call about the lasbolts...doesn't make much sense...my brain's in necron-ville


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## dan1986 (Jun 12, 2008)

I enjoyed reading that, have to agree with Inquisitor Aurelius though, but all in all was good and well written :victory:


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