# A World Eaters novel



## GraveHound (Sep 23, 2010)

Greetings fellow enthusiasts! 
It's been a while since I last posted. I present you with a story i'm writing for the moment.
I like it so far but i'm anxious to know what you guys think.
I'm going to keep updating small parts because I know from experience that most won't even read big chunks of text.
Hope you enjoy and C&C is very much appreciated!!!


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The World Eater ducked as bolt shells shredded the air above him. Out of reflex he threw himself to the side, tumbling headlong into the knee deep sludge that filled the bottom of the crater with a big splash. The rain that fell endlessly from the sky had eroded the consistency of the earth, making the World Eater struggle to regain his balance in the mud. 

Another wet slop announced one of his brothers taking refuge with him in the filth infested cesspool. The blood, water and chunks of meat in various stages of decay mixed together with the mud to form a sort of quicksand that would see any mortal man drown. 

The World Eater labored to regain his feet in the thick sludge, crawling on all fours towards the crater’s edge. His armored boots found purchase after what seemed like ages, using his clawed hands to drag his massive body over the crater lip. He immediately rolled to the side to take cover behind a section of wall. It was all that remained of a shelled-out house and soaked up some of the of las beams trying to destroy him.

Dust and grit washed over him in a mist as the ambushers concentrated their fire upon the wall he sheltered behind. He had a few more moments before his cover would cease to exist and he used them to take stock of the situation. 

Two of his brothers were dead, their bodies prone on the ground. Were it not for his superhuman reflexes throwing himself aside he would have joined them. Another two of his brothers had taken cover on the other side of the road they had marched upon. Their bolters blaring in crossfire, eager to get to grips with their foes.

The warrior that had joined him in the crater should have been out by now. Impatiently the World Eater consulted the life signs of his squad with but a thought and a series of runes blinked to existence inside his helmet feed. Three runes were a healthy green. The rune of his squad leader flashed an angry orange that went out as he watched it, turning grey and joining two others. 
He snarled, three unholy brothers dead at the hands of the enemy, it also made reaching their objective much more difficult and troublesome. Oh yes, there will be hell to pay soon! 

The World Eater voxed to his brothers;
‘This is Valus. It seems I lead now!’ His message was answered with a series of grunts. His brothers might challenge him for leadership when the battle was over but for now they would follow his orders. In their culture only the strongest can lead, and few could match his skills with the axe.

‘Covering fire in three!’ He growled into the vox.
After three seconds he charged out from behind the stone wall just as it started to topple over. It took a few moments before the weight of fire refocused on him, moments in which the distance between the two enemies shortened dramatically.

He fired as he ran uphill, the bolter in his hands kicking violently as the weapon fired on full automatic. He laughed as he killed, mortals falling in droves to his sustained fire and that of his brothers.

Shots started to impact upon his body, leaving burn marks and breaking off small chips of ceramite war plate. The oaths of hate that were branded upon his sacred armor and several of the skulls chained across his body began to disintegrate as the heat of fire intensified. It was nothing his armor couldn’t withstand for the moment but it threw of his aim remarkably.

Valus noticed a burned out rhino wreck to his left as he advanced. The World Eater altered his course towards it, switching to a flat out sprint after he heard the dull ‘chunk’ that announced his clip was dry, urging him to reload.

A glimmer caught his eye as he moved towards cover. The few rays of the dull sun able to penetrate the heavy downpour reflecting from some metal surface. The heavy bolter that had killed his brothers once again trained its eye on him. His stomach lurched as he realized with decades of combat experience he wouldn’t reach cover on time.

The heavy bolter fired twice before it was silenced forever. The last thing Valus saw before the bolts struck him was the head of the mortal wielding the bolter explode. An incredible shot from one of his brothers no doubt but one fired too late.

The two shells impacted on the world eater simultaneously. They struck him both in the head. The first blew off one of the ornamentally curved horns at the side of his head, shattering the artificial bone in a thousand fragments. The other however impacted slightly below the eye lens, causing far greater damage. The momentum of the shell was transferred onto him as he flew the last few paces behind the burned out rhino. Knocking him out instantly.


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## GraveHound (Sep 23, 2010)

Valus awoke with a start, lifting his body into a sitting position. It was a bad idea. Nausea assaulted his senses. His genehanced body trying to cope with a wound that would have killed any mortal man thrice over. All the World Eater could see was static as his helmet was utterly ruined. 

Slowly he disengaged the airlocks attaching it to his war plate. Air escaped in a pressurized hiss as he jerked the helmet off, revealing the ruined face beneath. All was blood as Valus viewed the world through his own eyes. It was anything short of a miracle that he hadn’t lost his entire head to the impact, he had seen many warriors die like that throughout the decades. Hurt like a bitch though.

He spat on the ground, the blood filling his mouth mixing with the acid saliva produced from his Betcher’s gland creating a dull red venom dissolving anything it touched.

Despite a few fractures and a minor concussion his wounds were superficial. Nothing that would leave long term damage. He stood, vaguely registering the presence of his brothers as they advanced along the road towards the enemy position, their bolters blaring from the hip. Noticing their positions he couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds.

The World Eater regarded his ruined helmet for a moment. A strange feeling of loss suddenly overcame him. This had been the face he had worn to battle for over a hundred years. To uncountable mortals it was the last thing they had seen in their miserable lives before he ended it in pain and blood, a bloody nightmare made real. It was irrelevant. He crushed his emotions in a heartbeat and dropped the broken helmet sparing it no second thought, reloading his spent bolter with a fresh magazine in a fluid motion and mag-locking it to his back, drawing instead his archaically crafted bolt pistol and a savage looking chainaxe.

‘kill these fools!’ He growled through shredded lips into his armor’s vox. His wounds and rage slurring the words.
‘Show every one of them the true meaning of pain! Give them a taste of what’s waiting for them for all eternity after we end their puny lives. In the name of KHORNE!’

One of his brothers howled, the vox speakers built into his helmet boosting the sound to deafening levels. Bloodlust robbing him of all rational thought as he charged headlong towards the enemy’s dug-in position a little further uphill. 
Without a heavy bolter the mortals stood little chance of even slowing the savage ceramite encased warriors, let alone injuring them. Valus charged alongside his brothers.

Anger, pain and hate fuelling his battered body, his twin hearts pumping adrenaline and scores of stimulants through his veins. Jumping spools of razor wire, small craters and heaps of ruble he easily cleared the obstructions supposedly protecting the imperials. The smell of human blood and fear assaulted his senses. It took all of his will power not to lose himself to the berserkers rage as his brothers had. It was one thing to swear allegiance to the Blood God but quite another to lose control of all thought and sanity in the process. Valus despised those who turned all to easily to the bloodlust, the irrationality often caused a lot more death and destruction to the legion than was necessary. It was a point of view not shared by most in the legion. Most saw it as a gift, he viewed it as a curse.

He chastised himself for his lack of focus, drawing his thoughts back to the battle. Valus shot a man making a grab for the heavy bolter in the face with calm efficiency. The skull cracking like an eggshell, splattering blood and bits brains all over his comrades. Panic washed over them, the World Eater could see the fear manifest in their eyes. The soldiers were close to breaking, they might flee at any given moment but he wouldn’t let them. They would all be very dead very soon.


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

First, a few things not related to the story itself:

For actual fan-fiction, you should post your stories in the Original Works forum.

Please post in the default font size, rather than making the story text itself larger.

Spacing paragraphs out with an extra "enter" helps when reading longer entries on forums, and prevents intimidating people with what can be seen as a "wall-o-text."

Just some hints. And now on to actual C&C:

Negatives:
Some of your sentence structure is over-complicated and leads to confusing verbiage. For example - 


> He immediately rolled to the side and took cover behind a section of wall that was all that remained of a shelled out house as a dozen lass beams churned up the ground around him, seeking to destroy the World Eater.


Commas here and a bit of reconstruction would have made this sentence easier to read and clearer as well.


> He immediately rolled to the side to take cover behind a section of wall. All that remained of a shelled-out house, it sucked up some of the dozens of las beams that churned up the ground around him.


Is a quick example of how a rewording/restructuring could clarify a phrase. I'd honestly just take the 'seeking to destroy the World Eater' bit out, since the placement of the phrase sort of muddles of the sentence itself. I read too much into things, I know 

A stylistic change I'd recommend is not to use contractions during prose (dialogue is fine, of course!). I know there are those that disagree with me on this, but in a short story/novel, writers tend to avoid using contractions outside of speech. But that could just be me not paying enough attention to what I'm reading haha.

Apart from a few other small bits (one instance of tense confusion, used 'can' rather than 'could,' missing/misplaced commas and a period that should have been a comma, incorrect word use i.e. 'immolated' in the second post) there aren't really too many negatives for me to focus on, and these things you could probably catch with a word processor's grammar check.

Enough with the bad, on with the good!

Shit... rest will come later, gotta go!


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Its ok*

The idea is real good, but the story is somewhat hard to read. Paragraphing your work into smaller more readable peices helps. When you are ready to make the paragraph, click the "Enter" button two times. This seperates what you want to seperate when the story is posted.

Also, I thought your flow of the story was not bad at all. I could see the picture in my head as I read it. But I do agree with Boc, spelling, punctuation and word structure does need some work.

Keep at it, learn and apply what others teach you. When we see you acting upon what we give you it makes us say, 'Cool, this guy really wants to learn.' 

Have fun and welcome to Original Works.


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## GraveHound (Sep 23, 2010)

Thnx very much for the friendly replies doc and adrian;
A thing of note is that English is not my native language and that I am trying my best to write as few errors as possible. Yet I realise it is not possible to avoid them altogether.

-The story has already been moved to original works (thanks adrian I suppose)
-The original font size is now in use ( I had tought it would have been easier to read with larger text)
-I have added a butt-load of enters, I hope that the story is easier to read now?
-Immolated has been replaced with ruined
- Quote:
'He immediately rolled to the side and took cover behind a section of wall that was all that remained of a shelled out house as a dozen lass beams churned up the ground around him, seeking to destroy the World Eater. ' 
I have rephrased this sentence, not in the way you have suggested but I hope it is better now?
- A question of mine is; Can u give me an example of 'contractions during prose' I am at a loss of what it mean...

So anyways... thank you guys for the effort, hope you keep reading the small updates and maybe see you guys later


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

GraveHound said:


> Thnx very much for the friendly replies doc and adrian;


Who is this Doc fellow? I must find him and kill the imposter! :grin:

As an aside, I didn't realize that English wasn't your first language, so if I came across as nitpicky I apologize. Note to self: look at the flag under the avatar haha.



GraveHound said:


> - A question of mine is; Can u give me an example of 'contractions during prose' I am at a loss of what it mean...


In your second post, second paragraph:


> It was anything short of a miracle that he hadn’t lost his entire head to the impact, he had seen many warriors die like that throughout the decades. Hurt like a bitch though.


The highlighted word is a contraction, and is perfectly fine to use in dialogue, since people tend not to say aloud "had not" and would use the shortened "hadn't." When you're typing the rest of the story _outside_ of the quotation marks, I tend to try and steer clear of using the contractions, since they aren't really "proper" when you're writing fiction, or maybe just taboo to me, who knows.

As far as what I liked about the story (had a situation at work I had to suddenly run off and deal with yesterday): you did a very good job of enabling the reader to picture the scene as it played out. The descriptions of the gore-filled puddle from the second paragraph in post #1 was probably my favorite. It wasn't over the top, wasting unnecessary time saying exactly what was in the crater, but gave the reader enough that we could fill in the details with our own imaginations. This was pretty true of your descriptions throughout, and is quite good (I know I for one have a problem of sometimes going too in depth with descriptions haha).

Keep it coming though, mate, and welcome to the Original Works forum!


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## GraveHound (Sep 23, 2010)

As Valus jumped the last hurdle he found himself face to face with his ambushers. Dug in around a crippled house on a small hill they now cursed themselves for not fleeing at the first sight of the World Eaters.
He killed three men in just as many seconds, bolt pistol flaring twice in rapid succession, the bodies dead long before they hit the ground. His chainaxe roared as he cleaved a man in half, the flak armor offering no protection against the adamantium teeth.
‘Blood for the blood god!’ he roared , his brothers completing the dreaded verse in unison;
‘skulls for the skull throne!’

The imperials fought with a ferocity born out of despair, they had not the slightest chance of beating the demigods in close combat and they knew it. 
A man charged at Valus, a wordless bellow escaping his mouth. The marks adorning his shoulders denoted him as a sergeant. Bayonet stabbing at the World Eaters uncovered face. Valus easily dodged the lunge, seeing it coming in near slow motion. He whipped the butt of his pistol into the man’s throat with casual indifference, moving on as the man dropped to the floor trying and failing to draw air into his crushed windpipe. The sergeant died several seconds later in the most excruciating moments of his life.

Valus’s axe rose and fell in harmony with the beating of his twin hearts. He knew, as a matter of fact, that to mortal eyes he was nothing but a blur. A bloody demon summoned from the warp itself, and in a way he was. Lashing out with his axe he clove two soldiers apart in a single blow. A third turned his back on him, ready to flee. Valus grabbed him out of the air in mid stride, digging his fangs into the soft yielding flesh of the man’s neck. Blood flooded his visage as the ruptured arteries sprayed the man’s bodily fluids over him in big gulps. He was already so fully covered in blood that the World Eater didn’t look much different. The man struggled ferociously in his grip, moaning and wailing like the banshee of old terran legend. 

Valus hurled the man aside like he weighed no more than a child. The sergeant hit a stone wall with bone crushing force, leaving a long smear of blood as he slid lifelessly to the ground. 
his two surviving brothers were already mercilessly slaughtering any remaining soldiers inside the house. The massacre was coming to an end.

The World Eater walked around to the rear of the house, his long confident strides bringing him to his destination in mere seconds. The landscape once again sloped downwards further ahead, the terrain transforming from barren plains into a treacherous wasteland. The skyline of an imperial city could vaguely be seen in the distance, the rain making it impossible for mortal eyes to see but his altered eyes had no difficulty to pierce the gloom. 

He looked down and saw three soldiers running for their lives. they had almost made it to the river that meandered a way further downhill. Valus grinned but to any man watching him it would have appeared as a savage snarl. Raising his bolt pistol he executed the fleeing men with a bolt shell each to the back of the head, shooting them with relative ease despite the considerable distance their legs had already taken them. No survivors.

Valus turned, several paces away a man lay twitching on the muddy ground, a bolt shell had hit him in the gut, exploding his innards all over the place. The smell was rank. The World Eater growled as the intense smell of sh*t and piss assaulted him. The dying soldier looked upon the world eater with a profusion of hatred in his eyes. A strangled moan escaped his lips instead of the curse he wished to heap upon his killer. Valus walked over slowly, his face remaining neutral as he raised his armored boot and stepped down forcefully. The soldier his head came apart with a sickening crunch as the boot powdered fragments of bone into oblivion.
‘that one… was for my helmet.’ he sneered.

His two brothers exited the house, the bright blood splattered across their armor highlighting the dark, deep red painted onto their sanctified war plate. 
‘Skulls… for the skull throne…’ one of his brothers whispered, turning his attention upon a mutilated body several paces away. He walked over and dropped to his knees as he drew a sacrificial blade, cutting the head off the body with over-exaggerated slashes. 
The blood rage had more or less left his other brother as he stayed focused enough to have a conversation with. 
His brother unlocked his helmet with the familiar hiss of depressing air, taking greedy gulps of the rank air as he observed the carnage he had helped create. 

‘Astor.’ Valus greeted, his tone neutral.
The warrior growled, disgust plain on his face; ‘Three brothers dead to this rabble! What an insult.’
‘Indeed’ He replied. ‘Perhaps if they had maintained bigger intervals as I had suggested they wouldn’t have been slain in such a pathetic way.’
‘Perhaps… brother.’ Astor spat the last word, challenge bright in his coppery eyes. ‘So now what? Do we move on with just the three of us?’
‘Just the three of us?’ Valus raged. ‘We are gods amongst men my brother, these mortals are nothing but food to my axe!’ 
Astor nodded in quiet contemplation.
‘…However, there may be enemy Astartes up ahead. We may find ourselves in a heap of trouble should we encounter any unexpected resistance. We should link up with the others. Barba advances not far to the south.’
‘so what are we still doing here then?’ Astor sneered.
‘skulls… skulls for the skull throne!’ their brother replied, a half-flayed head dangling by the hair from his metal encased fist, blood frenzy still apparent in his voice.
‘get up fool!’ Astor mocked. ‘We have work to do!’
Their brother hissed in anger through his vox speakers.
‘Let’s get going then.’
‘Lead the way then mighty leader.’
Again that pompous tone of voice challenging him. Valus contemplated on it for a moment. This could lead to trouble…


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## GraveHound (Sep 23, 2010)

‘I don’t like you.’ Astor said matter-of-factly. His annoyance with Valus was plain to hear. The World Eater could rarely conceal his emotions, even if he wanted to. That fact went for the entire legion as well.

‘what of it?’ Valus replied, annoyed as well. their march had taken through a dense swampland for the last three hours, he had slipped and sunk a considerable amount of times already, as had his brothers. The immense weight of their armor not helping much in moving through the misty bog. At least the rain had abated for the moment. Keeping his eyes to the ground claimed most of his attention, the rest of it went to flicking big fat swamp flies from his face. He was in no mood for a discussion.

‘I have a problem with you leading us!’
‘leading us?’ Valus sneered. ‘Do you think I like babysitting you and that mongrel warp-infested psychopath? The bastard has been mumbling to himself for hours and I’m getting real sick of it!’
If their other brother either heard or cared he gave no sign of it.
‘This has nothing to do with him Valus.’ 
‘Well whatever. As soon as we have reached Barba we’ll join his squad. They would be happy to have us join, their squad hasn’t been to full strength since Tirentuis IV.’

‘No!’ Astor replied angrily. ‘I’m sick of following orders! It’s about time I started giving them.’
‘That’s not for you to decide brother.’
‘I’m not your brother Valus. You disgust me! What are you even doing here?’
Valus stopped walking and turned. Astor, still bareheaded, met his questioning gaze unfazed.

‘what do you mean?’
‘What are you doing here, with the World Eaters? You are so unlike us, you despise us even. You think you are so noble with your terran heritage, being recruited in the time when mighty Angron still walked amongst his legion. you think you know everything better than the rest of us--’
‘That’s not true, I-- ’
‘let me finish!’

Valus glared at his brother, his mood furious. Yet another part deep inside told him to listen, this could be how the others saw him as well. The World Eater started fingering his chain axe with pent up excitement. Astor might challenge him here and now. The fight would be short and brutal. Killing Astor however would offer a much needed distraction. 

‘You don’t carry the bio-neural implant like the rest of us.’ Astor continued. ‘You could have had it implanted after the legion turned from the emperor’s light, when his disapproval no longer meant anything anymore. Yet you refused that, what sets us most apart from the other legions. Even your eyes are different. They harbor hope, hope that you could still change your destiny. You are a fool Valus, you’ll die as a tool, just like the rest of us. Accept it. You are unworthy to lead true World Eaters into combat! I will give the orders now…’
‘you could try and I could kill you.’ Valus mocked

‘We’ll see about that.’ Astor said as he drew his bolt pistol, aiming it squarely at his brother’s face.
‘coward!’ Valus roared. ‘You are nothing but a weakling! It is you who has no place in this legion!’
The both of them faced off for several heartbeats. Valus his hands clenched and unclenched, hands around Astor his throat in vivid hallucination. Rage and adrenaline flooded his body in dangerous quantities. In all his uncountable years of war he loathed the idea of dying through such a cowardly act.

Despite Astor’s unwavering gaze he saw doubt was starting to take root, Valus could smell it. Shooting his squad leader in cold blood would bring upon him the ire of ‘The Bloodmonger’. The leader of the World Eaters warband was notoriously fickle. He would most definitely take personal offence. Astor’s life would be forfeit.

their other brother started circling Astor, his chainaxe drawn. A predator ready to pounce. It seemed he still honored the few legion laws that still remained.
‘you’ll kill us both?’ Valus sneered, the triumph in his voice plain to hear. He wasn’t entirely sure he would live through the confrontation though.
Astor trembled with rage. 
‘Stay out of this Skränn.’ He hissed. ‘This has nothing to do with you!’
‘O, but it does.’ Their brother answered, his voice a low hiss even further distorted through his vox speakers. It seemed he was in his more lucid moments at the time. The internal strife dragging his sanity back from the brink of the abyss.

‘you hate the bastard as much as I!’
‘That is true, but make no mistake brother. If he dies, I will lead!’
‘You?! You are even more unfit than him.’ Stabbing his pistol in Valus his direction Astor stepped back warily, trying to keep his two brothers from surrounding him. He knew that at the slightest mistake, a hint of weakness they would destroy him. The chance of killing them both was slim at best and even if he could do it, he would be leader of nothing and no one. 
The confrontation continued until the silence was ended at last, draining all tension instantly as if there had never been an argument at all.

Their vox chimed as one, an intersquad message coming through in heavy static. The few words that came through clean were greeted by the World Eaters with apprehension.
‘ –his is Barba… -ambushed…–ceiving heavy fire… –eed back up! -ace wolfs!’
Space Wolfs. At the mention of the last two words the World Eaters sprang to action. Fighting against a loyalist ‘chapter’ of the first founding took precedence over all things. The Wolfs were amongst the worst hated foes, almost as savage and destructive as the World Eaters themselves. To fight them and triumph they would need every available man. The three of them moved in single file. Sprinting through the march they no longer moved careful, barreling clean through rotten trees and crunching twisted roots underfoot. Silence was no longer a priority. Big splashes of murk washed across their armored feet and shins, cleaning away the dried blood but not necessarily making them any cleaner. 

‘Barba’s position is close by. We should reach them in several minutes at this pace, be ready for action.’
‘It’s been a while wolves! I will enjoy this!’ Astor cried before putting his helmet back on.
‘Blood for the Blood God!’ Valus cursed as Skränn overtook them, bloodlust once again raging through his veins. There would be no reasoning with him now.
Valus momentarily looked over his shoulder as he ran. Astor’s visor was entirely focused upon Valus his back, his facial expression obscured. He would deal with Astor after the battle he decided, hoping against hope one of Astor’s bullets would not find its way into the back of his head before it was all over.


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## GraveHound (Sep 23, 2010)

Wolf guard Velten roared in joy and fury alike, killing any to cross his path. His magnificent force axe sang through the air, shearing clean through the roaring blade of a chain axe and simultaneously decapitating the warrior who wielded it. 
His axe and the energy field around it was forged in the Age of Rebirth, an heirloom passed down through the ages from after the time of the Heresy. It was a magnificent weapon. Utterly lethal and able to cleave through ceramite armor with relative ease. It’s potency is further increased by Velten’s incomprehensible strength. 

The wolf Veteran killed another World Eater with savage ferocity, feinting a downward stroke and instead upper cutting his foe under the chin. His decades of experience making him a lethal killer even without the formidable axe. Velten felt ceramite crumple beneath his armored fist, the flesh and bone within the helmet mashed to a bloody pulp. 

A score of bloodclaws advanced alongside him, eager to prove their worth against such a dangerous and hated foe. It had surprised Velten that he had been able to keep his claws from revealing their locations as they waited in ambush. He had seen some real talent in this group of claws, with proper tutelage they could make it far into the chapter hierarchy. 

Further ahead he saw the leader of the beleaguered World Eaters, a giant even amongst his astartes brothers the gigantic curved horns adorning his helmet only added to his massive form. The giant roared with a furry that matched Velten’s own. As he watched he saw one of his claws engage the brute, a lust for blood running through his veins equaling that of the World Eaters. The claw’s life ended in a fountain of gore. A chain axe cutting him open from sternum to groin. 

Velten growled, hoping his neophytes would remember their tactics. The Wolfs had an advantage in numbers but that number was dwindling fast against the close combat superiority of their hated foes. 
Ounce for ounce no World Eater could outmatch a space wolf in raw strength or ferocity, yet Velten wondered now if it had been such a good idea to have his inexperienced claws fighting against these armored behemoths that had been waging bloody war for centuries. 

As he slays another foe, cutting off the top of his skull with an incredible counterstroke that splashed blood all over his braided beard, he saw a World Eater smashing his helmeted head into the face of a bloodclaw. The claw was stunned for several moments while blood streamed out of his ruined nose, painting the lower half of his face in vivid crimson, the world eater followed up with a knee to the gut, doubling his adversary over. He lashed out, cutting off the claw’s arm from the elbow down as the youngling threw it up instinctively.

Just as the world eater was about to finish the stricken bloodclaw his head disintegrated in a welter of blood and twisted metal. A bolt detonating the inside of the skull in uncountable, indistinguishable pieces of organic matter.
The world eater took another step, chainaxe raised, the body unsure whether it was death or not, before finally succumbing and crashing into the muddy floor. 

The three Grey Hunters he had left up the small hill at the forest’s edge had begun their covering fire, giving the claws a fighting chance. The World Eaters began to fall back, some desperately seeking cover as others simply fired back in full view. The latter being simply overrun by the advancing claws the way a pack of dogs would take down a frenzied hog. Velten howled in the joy of the kill, his plasma pistol flaring blinding light as superheated blasts of plasma cooked the hated enemy from the inside out. This! Was what he was born for. All went according to plan, until their covering fire died out…


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