# (40k IG) Upon the flaming fields



## TheJolt

Upon the flaming fields

Chapter 1- Awaiting the end

He had never seen anything like it before. Guardsman Thorke stared in awe as a huge serpentine daemon yanked a battle tank down into the ground below; the road crumpled and tore like paper under both forms vast combined bulk. The traitors were over running the desperate defences; it wouldn’t be long until they got into the main city. 

“Open fire!” The heavy weapons team sergeant roared behind him. Thorke snapped back to his senses quickly, becoming conscious of the dangers around him. The sudden thump of two autocannons reminded him of his own weapons. He needlessly reloaded his autogun and brought it up to his shoulder, looking down the 2x zoom scope. Without effort he found a target, a cultist wielding a promethium flamer.

He licked his lips, turned the catch to single shot and pressed his finger upon the trigger. The kick felt good, the muzzle flash dazzled his eyes for an instant and he smiled as the slug shot ignited the promethium tank. With a dazzlingly bright fireball three cultists were engulfed in the deadly chemicals. He had learned that flamer men were brilliant targets long ago. Their death screams made him feel good, three less to worry about later on. 

He returned his eye to his scope, peering down and singling out another target. Before he could pull the trigger the cultist exploded into a gory paste as an autocannon shell hit him. The cracks in the road were filling with gore and blood. Thorke ducked as a stray round pinged off the road and over his head impacting on the autocannons blast shield with a metallic ping.

“Reloading, keep them suppressed!” Shouted one of the heavy weapons team frantically; fear chiselled upon his stern face. Almost immediately the gunner and sergeant picked up their side arms and started taking basically random shots down the road. 

Thorke looked around, watching as the other autocannon gunner was shot in the stomach. His screams were terrible, as his stomach acids burned into his innards. Dropping another traitor Thorke leapt up and sprinted the short distance to the cannon.

“Holy frag, just like that he’s dead,” One soldier grimaced as the team left their comrade’s body down. Thorke had seen it before, and seen much worse as well. A sand bag mound ruptured under a krak grenades blast. Dirt covered his sharp, handsome features as another explosion threw up the mound like toy bricks. He jumped into the gunner’s seat of the autocannon and racked the slide with a sharp jolt.

He triggered the firing stud and braced his body against the massive thump of the heavy weapon. He hardly needed to aim so many cultists were trying to get through the gap in the sandbags it created a choke point. Limbs and bodies were pulped as the high velocity shells smashed into the horde of traitors. Their skin was mutilated and pierced in devotion to their false lords. Once again he managed to ignite a flamer drum. Flaming bodies dropped as flesh was incinerated and burned.

Then there was a sudden click. He knew it wouldn't overheat so suddenly, and it couldn't be out of ammunition so quickly. It had jammed. He cursed such luck and leapt to his feet. He took his autogun from his shoulder and firing from the hip began to fire. 

The recoil this time hurt his taught muscles as he tried to keep the gun steady. Bullets flew from the barrel, impacting upon the traitors flesh with deadly effects. He smiled as the traitors fell to the ground, gurgling in their own blood or already dead. It seemed like an age before the autocannon team shouted they were reloaded, in reality it was but a few minutes. With one of the heavy guns down their firepower was drastically reduced, and the traitor leaders knew this. He unclipped a frag grenade and pulled the pin, but didn’t release the stud. Instead he tucked it underneath a sandbag so the stud was held down. The defence wouldn’t last long; he knew that, the enemy knew that. 

The autocannon fired quickly, more cultists died, but too many were coming too quickly. Thorke looked down the scope quickly, popping off three shots into what seemed like some sergeant equivalent. He turned around and sprinted to knew cover further down the road. Shots threw up tiny stones against him. His camouflage fatigues were dirty and torn. His carapace armour was rented and chipped.

He never looked back as he sprinted, hearing a sudden thump he knew his grenade had been set off. He skidded round a corner and braced himself against a ruined wall. A brick fell from the wall as his weight was pressed against it. He glanced round, seeing three other guardsmen sprinting down the road towards him. He brought up his scope, once again switched to single fire and blew out the cranium of a pursuing mutant brandishing a rusted stubber. Its body stumbled on limply before realising it was dead and collapsed face first into the ruined rockrete road. 

A shot took down one of the fleeing soldiers, his spine splintered by a lucky shot. Shots flew down the road, two or three striking the wall behind which Thorke was taking cover. A cultist brandish an iron cleaver ran down the street to his left, reacting first Thorke reached for his combat blade. He grimaced as he realised it wasn’t there, grabbing desperately for his shovel as the traitor swung wildly.

He charged quickly, brandishing the trench digging shovel like a mace. The traitor smiled seeing this new fresh meat, his already blood slick blade held high. Thorke ducked under a decapitating strike and smacked his opponents knee joint hard with the side of the shovel. Blood dripped from the wound but the cultist seemed oblivious to the pain.

“Die imperial scum!” The cultist slurred from a deformed mouth, spittle dribbling down its chin. Thorke didn’t reply, instead smashing the traitors shoulder with the shovel. The cultist faltered, now realising the pain. Before he could stab Thorke smashed his head in with an overhead strike, brain fluids leaking from the crack in its skull. The cultist fell to his knees before dropping backwards. 

The two surviving guardsmen sprinted round the corner one bumping into Thorke; they both fell to the ground. Thorke got up first, ignoring the clumsy man on the ground. He realised they were running towards a ruined factory, he could see multiple different soldiers holed up there. He decided he would survive longer with other soldiers to watch his back, he begun the short jog to the door of the factory. 

“Wait up we don’t want to.....” Shouted one of the guardsmen before a las bolt sheered through his abdomen. Thorke looked round, estimating his chances. He decided to run back, picking up the wounded trooper as the other survivor ran through the main doors. The wounded man looked up, his eyes pools of painful tears. He whispered a thanks and closed his eyes as Thorke dragged him along one handed, using his other hand to fire his autogun into the shadows. His hands were blood covered but he ploughed on. 

Eventually he reached the main doors; two soldiers opened the doors, both smiling to see another comrade coming into the factory. The two soldiers at the doors shut them after Thorke was through, and slammed a table up against them. They clearly weren’t taking any chances. He walked over to a room with a rough medicae symbol painted on it and left the wounded soldier there. He walked further down the hall. He had no intentions of leaving quickly; he wanted to survive after all. He took in his surroundings, floor tiles were missing, cracked and shattered. The walls sported small colonies of fungal growth, years of moisture abuse causing the growth of the greyish colonies. The lights flickered, some stayed on; others blinked into life irregularly casting twisted shadows across the hall. 

The other, unwounded trooper was fiddling with the safety catch on his pistol. He was sitting on an old, over used medicae bed, its soft inner padding was wet and moulded. He looked up as Thorke strode towards him, only then did Thorke realise how young the man was. He was no older than twenty five but looked slightly older with the hardening of battle. 

“You leaving?” The guy asked finally snapping the safety catch back so the weapon could fire. Thorke stammered slightly, pulling a Torq stick from his pocket and lighting it. He blew a smoke ring before talking properly. 

“Nah, I’m sticking here, better here than out there.” The trooper nodded slightly, Thorke gestured him a Torq stick which he gratefully took and lit it. Thorke had a sudden flash back, he had given a guy a Torq stick and when he had lit it the man fell, his cranium blown out. A sniper had seen the spark and had popped him. That was the luck of the battlefield. He shook the thought from his head. 

“Yeah me too, by the way I’m Neirv,” Neirv said getting up and shaking Thorke’s hand tightly. Thorke liked a guy with a solid handshake, said a lot about a guy. The trooper sat back down on the staircase leading to the next floor. Blood caked his armour vest and had stiffened his fatigues, only then did Thorke realise how dirty he was. He was also caked in grit, mud, blood and Emperor knows what else.

“I’m Thorke. Well Corporal Thorke,” Thorke said looking at his stripes on his shoulder, one was slightly pink with blood. Neirv smiled slightly and took out the clip from his pistol and started reloading it, Thorke realised Neirv had three bayonets, probably scavanged from the dead. He remebered how close he had been to dying because he didn't have a bayonet. 

Neirv looked at Thorke, realising his surprise at the three bayonets. He took one out of its scabbard and looked at it inquisitively, more to emphasise what he said next than anything.

“We got one of them standard issue. We certainly didn’t argue, we needed all we could get! I picked the other two up from corpses, three is better than one after all.”

Thorke nodded in agreement, exhaling a cloud of smoke and dragging the stick again slowly. He looked at his empty scabbard, trying to figure out where he could have dropped it.

“Took me five shots to drop one real determined fragger, to be honest I wouldn’t trust this gun to save my life. I'd much rather have him up in my face, so I could show him my blade,” He said matter-of-factly still draggin on the same Torq stick. Neirv smiled and unsheathed one of the bayonets and handed it to Throke.

“Consider it payment for the killer stick,” Neirv said gesturing to Thorke’s Torq pack. They both chuckled a bit. They continued chatting for quite some time. Thorke threw Neirv another three Torq sticks, since one for a bayonet wasn’t very fair. Suddenly, just as time was passing over midnight they heard a hefty smashing sound and the animalistic roar of someone...... _no something_. 

****

Awaiting your opinions eagerly guys!!!


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## Bane_of_Kings

Hey, pretty nice first chapter, and I'll be eager to see where this goes. I've got a fanfic that you can check out (Cracking the Code), if you wish.


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## TheJolt

Thanks man!! 

I'll be sure to check it out!

:victory:


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## V.Valorum

Very nice start, I like your writing style. A couple years of polishing and you'll be good enough to get paid for it.

Two technical critique elements -
1 - No trained soldier would pull a trigger a second time if their weapon fails to fire. Immediate action is to open (rack) the bolt, check the feed (with bolt open) then release before attempting a second shot. For dramatic purposes, research the term "hang fire" and "pop-and-no-click"
2 - Solid Ammo; if a pistol takes ammo of a certain size, then any ammunition that is of a significantly larger size (diameter or length) will not fit inside the weapon. Anything smaller will not fire, or will not clear the barrel.


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## TheJolt

Thanks for that man! I'll make the changes soon I swear 

** Changes made.

:victory:


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## V.Valorum

Very nice. LOVE the bayonets.


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## TheJolt

Thanks, expect the 2nd chapter very soon :good:


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## TheJolt

Chapter 2 - Drawing closer


“What the frag?!” Neirv exclaimed leaping to his feet and slamming his clip home with a trained hand. Thorke was already moving, slowly pacing towards a door leading to the attack scene. He was carrying his autogun in a low, hip fire grip. His eyes were narrowed, like a hawk flying high above its unsuspecting prey. 

Thorke pivoted, gesturing for Neirv to be quiet. Neirv nodded in compliance, knowing something was close, or getting closer. Thorke slid around the door, keeping tight to the walls. Neirv followed his pistol held tightly in a solid two hand grip, ready for anything. He scanned behind them... nothing.

“I’d watch yourself, I can hear something further down,” Thorke whispered gesturing further down the hall, puffing smoke from his Torq stick as he set his autogun to three shot burst. He didn’t need to look to change his settings; it was all second nature now. Neirv set his auto pistol to full auto. He wasn’t going to be taking any chances. They heard hurried footsteps down the hall, coming closer. The flickering lights made vision limited and aiming extremely hard. Suddenly a figure was silhouetted against the flickering light. 

“Oh frig...” Thorke whispered cautiously. He edged his way closer to the figure, it had its back turned to him but he could see a rifle scanning for targets. He couldn’t make out whether the humanoid was friend or foe. A light flickered and sparked, the figure turned swiftly. The eight pronged star tattoo on the heretics face confirmed it as being an enemy. It raised its rifle, suddenly aware of the two Imperials in front of it. 

Thorke pressed hard onto the trigger. Three shots blazed from his weapon and the heretic crumpled, intestines spilling from the hole in its gut. Thorke smiled, he had once again beaten an enemy at reaction time. Years of practice had made him constantly on edge, ready for anything. 

“Nicely done,” Neirv smiled dropping his Torq stick to the ground and crunching it under his boot. Thorke nodded his thanks and they both walked further down the hall, turning left through a shattered door. They quickly found out why it was shattered. 

Three imperial troopers were pinned behind and old, turned over desk. Las bolts and solid slugs were carving into the wooden desk. On the other side of the room mutants were ducking in and out of cover, popping off shots irregularly. Thorke swung up his rifle quickly, snapping the catch to single shot and looked down the sight. His trained eyes quickly found a target, a horned mutant with a shotgun.

He fired. The single shot blazing through the air and shearing the mutants hand off at the wrist. He cursed, he hadn’t been aiming there. He fired again, this time the bullet crashed into the mutant’s skull. Brain fluids and blood mixed on the floor were the beast fell. A shot skimmed off Thorke’s shoulder plate, spinning him round slightly. Neirv had dropped another mutant with three pistol rounds to the chest. 

Thorke recovered himself, although not as quickly as he have. It cost him. A lasbolt Flew through the air and sheared off one of his fingers. He screamed and cursed, dropping in behind the desk. Blood covered his right hand. It was his middle finger they blew off, he had liked that finger. He had used it to show the traitors what he though of them on more than one occasion. 

Neirv dropped the mutant that had taken off Thorke’s finger. Its head exploded as a whole pistol clip was put into its brain. Neirv also jumped behind cover, an old wheeled bin provided some pretty solid cover. Shots flew off the thick metal sides as the mutants pinned him down. 

“Holy....” One of the soldiers started seeing Thorke’s blood covered hand just before his shoulder was blown out by a shotgun shot. He was on the floor screaming in pain, he rolled slightly. Out of cover and got shot for such stupidity. One of the soldiers, a grizzled major was already pulling out a bandage and some clotting gel. Thorke held out his shaking hand as the major applied some of the gel, the bleeding stopped quickly. He grimaced as the stinging began, though he knew it showed the gel was dong its job. The Major bandaged the stumpy remains of his finger and gave him a pain killing jab. 

“Thanks.” The Major didn’t answer; instead he just swung up and threw a krak grenade across the destroyed room. There was a slight delay before a sudden bang. Thorke dared a look over the desk, seeing the mutants sprawling on the floor, organs spilling out and limbs missing. He smiled, served them right for blowing his fragging finger off. He got his first good look at the room, a wall was blown apart and the lights were down. This must have been were the traitors got in he thought, they had blown their way through the wall.

Another wall buckled, bricks and rockrete flew through the air. A search torch silhouetted a huge, hulking figure encased in rusted steel plate. It roared as it muscled through what was left of the wall; it carried what appeared to be a street sign. Neirv leapt to his feet, spraying blindly with his pistol. Solid slugs sparked and ricocheted off the.... Things steel armour. It turned, its long tongue lolling around. It grinned and charged.

Neirv grimaced and leapt from behind the bin, just before it was smashed and crumpled by the huge beast. Thorke fired wildly, the recoil causing his stump to sting. The huge thing didn’t seem too bothered by the autogun fire it continued pressing Neirv back step by step towards a corner. It was easily ten feet tall and its huge slabs of muscle flexed with the slightest movement. 

Another soldier walked into the room, he was holding an auto-rotator. The three barrels began to spin, getting faster. Then with a sudden thump the barrels lit up. Shots flew from the weapon, hundreds impacting onto the armour of the hulking monstrosity. The shots hardly dented the armour but the kinetic power of them was enough to push the beast back. It snarled in primal fury at being distracted from its prey. It turned, holding the sign like a blade and started to trudge towards the trooper with the rotator. Still he kept firing; the barrels were glowing slightly red with heat. 

Seconds passed and the monster was within a few metres of the rotator soldier. The man released a catch that water cooled the rotator before letting rip with it again. He smiled as he aimed it slightly higher, the beast’s helmet flew off and its head was revealed for an instant before it was pasted by hundreds of solid slugs. Finally it collapsed, its blood and brain fluids mixing on the floor in a viscous puddle. 

“Mother Fragger used a whole mag,” The trooper whispered to himself in disbelief, staring at the pile of spent casing at his feet. Thorke smiled as he seen the missing head of the titanic mutant. He gestured his hand to the new comer and the man gladly took it shaking it hard in a warriors grasp. Politely though he never mentioned Thorke’s missing finger. 

“Thorke,” Thorke said gesturing to his dog tags. The trooper gestured to his own; they read ‘Noctis’. The major had now joined them he gave Noctis a friendly nudge.

“Trooper Noctis doesn’t speak much. All that matters to him on the battlefield is kill count,” The major said before walking off abruptly. 

“Well that..... Whatever it is must count for at least ten!” Neirv chuckled. Noctis smiled as he clipped another drum-clip into the rotator. He racked the slide and made sure that the barrels spun freely, he definitely didn’t want a jam with huge mutants running about. Thorke noticed that the soldiers right arm was a military augmented prosthetic. It was ceramite, and it shone in the flickering lights. 

Suddenly and abruptly the flickering lights died. All went quiet then they heard the tell tale sounds of heavy boots, and voices chanting in a daemonic tongue. They switched on their torches and began to move stealthily out into the corridor. The footsteps were coming closer....


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## two lls

Liked your first chapter - good descriptions! Keep it up!


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## TheJolt

Thanks! Hope you liked the 2nd?

-TJ


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## TheJolt

Heya guys, sorry about not posting, been away skiing etc. :victory:

Expect chap 3 by sat/sunday.

Thanks for your patience.


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## Chaosrider

this is really good mate! +rep. In my opinion IG stories are always the best, if done right. Which you have.


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## TheJolt

Aw thanks a million! Should have the third chapter up tomorrow, I have 3 hours free time so it should be done. Expect more movement, and action!!

TJ


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## TheJolt

Chapter 3 - Luck is never with you

The footsteps ceased as he sprayed into the gloom. Thorke relished the kick of the weapon in his hands as it sprayed a deadly metal rain. He heard screams, coughs and splutters as men coughed up their innards and choked on their life fluids. But he heard something else. Something more sinister, something more mechanical. He turned off and pocketed his searchlight in fright, the others done the same. 

Three red lights peered out from the gloom; they swept around as if looking for a target. They found one. Thorke turned and ran, sprinting as hard as his legs would carry him. Noctis and Neirv were running too. Mechanical legs carried the monstrosity and flesh and ceramite. It resembled a war servitor, but only in the most mutated and perverted sense. 

“Target acquired, locked on and engaging.” Its metallic voice was chilling as it charged after them. They turned through a door way, it came crashing through the wall with its grenade launcher arm trained on them. It fired without warning. Thorke dived and rolled behind a piece of the caved in roof, Neirv dived on his stomach and managed to escape the explosion, Noctis ran behind a desk. The wall exploded in a shower of debris and dust. Neirv tossed a smoke grenade and they sprinted, hoping the smoke would confuse the.... Mechanical monstrosity. It did, but not for more than a few seconds. 

“Run you friggers run!” Thorke yelled as they ran through the gap in the wall and out into the streets again. Glow globes lined the street as they sprinted down it, thunderous explosions hammered the earth and shells fell like rain upon the city. They heard the War engine smash from the room and it was slowly beginning to run at them, its mechanical legs pressing it further towards them at a scary rate. It emitted a frightening howl from its vox caster as it came within range of them. The thud of its grenade launcher sounded but the shot went high, detonating an abandoned car further down the road.

“Get in, left, left.... left!!” Neirv screamed and they bolted through a door leading into an industrial factory, what looked like some kind of fuel plant. They ran further into it, concealing themselves in the spider web of wires, pumps, hydraulics and pistons that powered the station.

“What the frig is that thing?” Neirv asked, mostly to himself. None of them could truly answer that question. As if on cue the machine smashed through the doorway, its huge bulk shattering the frame and dislodging bricks. It powered up a shoulder mounted searchlight and began sweeping the building. For the first time Thorke got a good look at it, it was hugely muscled, with wires sprouting from it like roots and its right arm was a huge drill and its left a grenade launcher. Noctis was beside him, he gestured to an overhead fuel tank, the size of a battle tank and full to bursting with flammables. 

Thorke nodded, slowly pacing towards a ladder that would take him to an overhead rig where long dead adepts would have regulated the tanks. He climbed it slowly, as not to attract unwanted attention. He walked over to the tank, slightly crouched as if he were stealthier. He turned the crank on the tank slowly, waiting for the machine to stop below him; it didn’t so he dropped his canteen onto the ground. The clang attracted the machines attention; it paced until it was below him and looked up under hunched shoulders. Its three eyes lit up suddenly as if savouring the kill to come.

“Frag you!” Thorke yelled as he kicked the crank round and gallons of fuel poured down the ten foot gap and soaked the machine below. The floor became slick with the oil and as it tried to steady itself it fell on its front. Such a machine would find it hard to get up again. Thorke used the time he had bought and climbed down the ladder and the three soldiers began to sprint again, fatigue however was tightening its grip on them and soon they were merely jogging, but machines do not tire. The servitor beast got up slowly and regained it balance and began its pursuit, skulls dangled from its torso and the brass emblem of Khorne was welded onto its breast plate. Such a machine had but one function, to kill. 

They came to the exit of the factory quickly, it became clear it was more of a warehouse than a factory but that was irrelevant. Noctis grabbed something from his pocket and swivelled to face the charging machine. He pressed his chin on his armour stud to activate his vox.

“Is there a Valkyrie in the vicinity, repeat we need Valkyrie support.” The something from his pocket was an emergency flare gun. It resembled an antique revolver of old. Thorke couldn’t see why he had stopped, he couldn’t get airlifted now. Not with the Khorne engine bearing down on them. He sprayed at the machine, sparks flew from its ceramite plates and blood leaked from wounds in its tissues. The vox chimed. 

“This is Valkyrie bravo 260. What is your situation?” Noctis activated his vox again quickly, the machine was less than thirty metres from them, and it would be on them soon. A grenade whistled past, blowing open a locked door nearby. Too close.

“We need a support strike. The target will be lit up, literally!” Noctis smiled as he levelled the flare gun and it all became very clear to Thorke as Noctis pulled the trigger. The flare ignited, burning into the thousands of degrees and emitting a blinding white light. Like a holy strike it struck the foe and ignited the machine in a fireball of fuel. But still it came. Fifteen metres and closing. 

“Run.” The command was simple, and simple to follow. They sprinted out into the streets and heard the reassuring scream of the Vakyries engines as it hovered above them. The flaming hell machine smashed through the exit and out into the street. The fire on it lit up the street, throwing shadows in impossible places, even the fire consuming chaos was corrupted to some degree. Again the vox chimed.

“Get clear, this’ll be big.” The machine bellowed a curse as a missile detonated on it and turned it into a welter of blood, oil and gristle. Noctis was smiling as they walked over to the crater in the street which was once a killing machine. 

“Good kill Valkyrie bravo 260,” Thorke sent through the open vox network. The pilot didn’t respond instead he ignited the engines and flew off. Leaving the trio in the gloom of the glow globes once again. 

** **

The engines ignited and the Valkyrie flew off. Pilot Antos had just made another good, partly clean kill. He would need to make many more to make a difference in the war though. He flicked a few switches and touched his Imperial Aquila dog tags for good luck. He turned right, banking at a low strafing angle in case of anything unexpected. He was flying over the Turvil Bridge, known now as Burnt crossing. A battle was raging below him, tanks crushing abandoned cars and trucks as they pressed forward. Neither side seemed to have a distinct advantage over the other. Defilers were crushed under tracks before another came to shred whole squads with its claws, Las shots flew between either side and he could hear the distinctive thud of a heavy mortar as it pummelled the enemy. The vox was singing with prayers, litanies being recited and zealous shouts of devotion, in the background the war raged on. He heard a warning chime from his radar and quickly flicked two switches setting him to level out and defensive patterning. 

The blimp on the radar was moving fast, and erratically, as if dodging something. He immediately spun the Valkyrie round; preferring to see what was coming at him. It was a fighter alright, nimble and pointed like a needle. He fired three missiles, assuring himself they would take out the unknown fighter. The first flew past it as it barrelled rolled; the second was detonated by the fighters surrounding anti-missile field and the third detonated too early. From the fireball of the third missile emerged the nimble craft, it went low and then flew up, striking his under wing with three successive pulse shots. His Valkyrie turned as he kept it under control. He pressed the firing stud and released a spray of heavy bolter shells, more from instinctive fright than disciplined training. He was answered by a deafening screech as a beam like a meltagun ray burnt through his cockpit, he screamed in horror as he was engulfed in liquid metal and his skin was burnt from his skeleton. He passed out before he died.

Far below on the bridge the fighting continued and the defiler crushed by a wrecked Valkyrie went nearly unnoticed in a war where luck was never on your side.


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## Templar Marshal

Good work keep it up.I like IG stories when there done like this.:grin:


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## TheJolt

Thanks man! Hope you follow this to the end, which is fair bit away


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## TheJolt

Chapter 4 – War never changes

He looked down at his hand, seeing his missing finger as a ruined stump didn’t trouble him. He had seen so much worse, and been through it. The dull hum of the glow globes around them provided very little light, and even less reassurance. Thorke looked up again, seeing his two fellow soldiers looking around at the ruins of what was once a proud city. He felt a vibration, and an instant later all three of their vox’s chimed. 

“Troopers, this is HQ. We need reinforcements on the Turvil Bridge. I repeat we need reinforcements on the Turvil Bridge.” They were surprised to hear from command more than anything. Thorke started pacing down the street, still wary of the fact that heretics still plagued the city from within. 

“Turvil Bridge, that’s Burnt crossing isn’t it?” Neirv asked. Thorke turned to him and nodded, he knew it was strategically of great importance. It connected the inner city to the outer city, which regrettably was now in the traitors grasp. If they could secure the bridge they could slow the enemies advance. For some time at least. 

“It’s pretty far from here, and I honestly don’t feel like walking it.” Neirv and Noctis nodded in agreement, but surely walking was their only way there?

“What do you suggest then?” Noctis asked suddenly, he talked little but when he did it was generally to make sense of something. Thorke looked at them and smiled before pointing to an old truck.

“That,” He smiled, the other two nodded and they jogged the twenty feet to the abandoned vehicle. It was a pretty large truck, weighing about the same as a battle tank and sporting a huge plough on the front. Thorke leapt into the driving seat through where there had once been a door and fired the ignition. Neirv leapt in beside him in the middle seat and Noctis jumped into the last seat, going to close the door but finding it wasn’t there. Before he had been conscripted Noctis had been a trucker, with a family, a wife and a future. Now he had none of them, he had lost his family, his wife and his future was now in the hands of fate. 

Thorke slammed his foot down on the pedal and activated the manual drive, the wheel felt funny in his grip without a finger. The truck barely lurched forward at first but then the engine fired up and they started moving, glow globes flew past as they sped down the street. They smashed old cars out of the way with the plough and dodged wreckage. The truck groaned as they turned a tight corner, Noctis grabbed the side of his chair to keep himself from falling out. His Auto-rotator was braced up on the trucks dashboard pointing out the broken window.

Thorke glanced at his wrist clock; it showed it had been four hours and forty-three minutes since his position had fallen. He wondered how they were getting on at the hospital, or whether it was but another ruin. He realised the sun was slowly beginning to rise, just over the horizon of ruins he could see the first glimmers of light, glimmers of hope. 

“Frig look, fragging heretics have been blocking the roads!” Neirv shouted pointing towards a mess of barrels, razor wire and wreckage. A few las shots hammered into their truck, one of the wing mirrors exploded in a shower of glass and super heated metal as it was hit. Another shot punctured the right front tyre, the rubber bubbled as it melted. 

“Noctis, suppress them!” Thorke yelled as he hammered his foot harder into the pedal, they shook a bit as the punctured tyre off balanced them. Seconds later the rotator was spinning, picking up speed before it blurted a shower of lead down the road in a continuous stream. Sparks flew from oil drums as the shots pinged off them and dust flew as bricks were ground to dust. No las shots came, the attackers cowering behind their make shift defence as they were pummelled by heavy weapons fire. 

The truck smashed through the blockage, crushing two traitors under its immense bulk and Neirv pulped another with a plucky shot out the window. Debris flew high into the air and crashed down; razor wire tangled around the tyres but couldn’t puncture them. Dents lined the truck and in some places there were melt marks where las shots had hit them. The punctured tyre finally ripped off, flying down the road behind them and leaving the metal wheel sparking against the rockrete or the street. 

“I never done that when I was a trucker,” Noctis smiled in a moment of humour. They all smiled despite the grim war around them. They drove round a tight left turn and started driving straight again, this street was livid with shots. A chimera was parked in the middle of the streets, its multi-laser spewing red death down the road at three heretical sentinels. They returned fire, their heavy bolters spitting mini rockets at the chimera as it let out its ten man squad cargo. Almost immediately two dropped dead, their bodies pulped by bolter shells. 

They drove around the chimera to the right, knocking down a glow globe post as they drove relentlessly towards the sentinels. A missile streaked past, its white smoke trail like a jet in the sky. The sentinels were hiding foot soldiers, about five. Another missile came; it ducked wildly and smashed into the road, creating a pot hole like crater. 

“Drop him!” Neirv shouted leaning over Thorke and taking the wheel as Thorke raised his auto gun. He looked down the scope, feeling the familiar press of it against his eye socket. He found his target, a burly man reloading a tube like rocket launcher. His grip felt strange, his missing finger made him feel like he would drop the weapon. He fired. The recoil thudded through his shoulder and the bullet crumpled the heretic, another shot took down one more. He retook the wheel, leaving the weapon resting on his knees. He steered left slightly, lining up two of the blasphemous vehicles. Their pilots tried to turn them, but their legs were rusted and slow. 

The truck smashed they away like toys, crippling their legs and smashing them helplessly to the ground. The three remaining soldiers turned tail and fled, gunned down by the chimera further down the road before a krak grenade blew the final sentinel to pieces in a display of Imperial superiority. There was no room in the city for Chaos. The trucks radio vox opened up, it was set to open.

“This is Pilot Jest of Chimera 8 of the 13th Iron dogs. Thank you.” Thorke smiled, he had just saved the poor friggers life and the guy at least had the manners to thank him. Something he wished he got more often, thanks for his service.

“This is Corporal Thorke of the 167th Rifles. Make your way to Burnt crossing, commands orders,” Thorke said into the vox. Neirv was reloading his pistol, sliding in the next clip with a practiced skill. Noctis was cooling down his rotator, steam rising from the barrels as the water evaporated to cool it down.

“Confirmed, our orders are to clean up this sector and make ready for more reinforcements. This could be the final push Corporal.” Thorke didn’t believe it would be, but he wouldn’t diminish moral with his own opinions. 

“Let’s hope so Jest, let’s hope so. Thorke out.” He pushed down on the ignition again and they began to drive further down the street, and soon within view was the bridge. Burnt crossing. Even from the distance they were at Thorke could make out the battle. Shot flew and explosion shook the bridge. He could make out a Baneblade, what side it was on he didn’t know. Artillery from both sides pummelled the bridge and the land at either end of it. 

They drove closer, passing basilisks firing huge shells into the battle from afar. And at one point he made out the unmistakable power of a Warhound titan striding through the ruins, clearing whatever stood in its way. For the brief time he seen the power of the titan he felt a glimmer of hope, that they may just win. 

But then he realised, if they needed the power of a titan, a god machine, what hell had Chaos unleashed upon the city?


----------



## TheJolt

Anyone still reading this??


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## Templar Marshal

Yeah I am keep the chaps coming.k:


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## Chaosrider

im still reading it. Keep up the good work.


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## TheJolt

Thanks guys!

Expect chapter 5 tomorrow!


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## TheJolt

Chapter 5 - Hold at all costs

Thorke spun the truck around the last corner, the rim off the destroyed wheel sparked against the rockrete ground. He blared the horn at a squad of reinforcements run towards a sandbag defence, instinctively they moved. He wheeled around the sandbag defence and slammed down the brake pedal. The truck halted immediately. They all got out, Thorke first and Noctis last. Noctis waddled forward as Thorke and Neirv jogged further up, the bulk of his rotator was weighing him down. 

“Holy frig!” Neirv gasped as they went past the huge baneblade he had seen far further back in the truck. Its main cannon roared and far down the bridge a huge bloom of smoke flew up as the shell blew man and machine to pieces alike. The back blast from the shot made Neirv longish brown hair ruffle; it had no effect on Noctis whose shaved head sported no hair to ruffle. Its heavy bolters and lascannons powered up and sent even more deadly beams and bullets down the bridge. A defiler’s head exploded as a lascannon shot sheared through it. Hundreds of mutants toppled dead as bolter rounds opened up their flesh. 

Thorke couldn’t help but be amazed at the majestic fury of such a war engine. Its ceramite armour was shrugging off all sorts of weapons fire. A rocket glanced off its main turret and flew high into the skies. Las bolts dissipated off its blessed hull and solid slugs hardly scratched the paint work of the mighty behemoth of steel and ceramite. The three of them jumped behind a sandbag mound, the bridge was shaking as the two mighty armies ground into each other. Noctis peered over the edge of the cover, seeing the two forces locked in a brutal close combat fight, men were tackling mutants and traitors were cutting through the Imperials like wheat to the sickle. Neither force was showing weakness. 

A commissar marched up beside them, two missionaries were fingering at their chainswords, their urge to purge the heretic was evident. The commissar activated his power fist, crackling electrical energies jumped between the gloves fingers. The commissar was a huge man, his greatcoat and armour hardly holding in his massive bulk. He even rivalled Noctis for muscularity. All around him men were slamming home new clips and fixing their bayonets onto their weapons, sergeants were thumbing chainswords and issuing last minute orders. The commissar turned to them, the rumble of Leman Russes vibrated through the bridge as they came up behind the mass of soldiers. 

“Soldiers, brothers in arms, comrades. This is the day we right the wrong. The day we steer this city back to the light. Go forth my brothers, and bring back the Light to destroy the dark!” The missionaries cheered, followed by the thunderous roar of the thousands of troops cheering. Thorke couldn’t help himself but cheer, his heart swelled with pride as the commissar jumped from his cover and led the charge down the bridge. Thorke jumped over, caught up in the mass of soldiers. The tanks behind them released a thunderous volley at the enemy armour, heretical tanks detonated with each shot. 

Thorke fired from the hip as the gap with the enemy was closed rapidly; a heretic’s face disappeared in a gush of blood. Another collapsed, his guts free to the wind. He pulled the trigger, a click was his reply. He went to reload but found himself having no ammunition. He pulled out the bayonet Neirv had given him, and he also pulled out and lit a Torq stick quickly just as the two armies came together like a hammer and anvil. He puffed smoke as a heretic seen him and ran towards him, swinging a flail over his head. The traitor’s tight skin wrinkled into a cursed grin. Thorke dodged a clumsy attack and drove his blade through the soft part under the heretic’s jaw; the blade went into the chaotic warrior’s brain. He wrenched his blade free and smashed it into the back of a mutant overpowering a soldier. The mutant screamed and tried to pull the blade from its back, Thorke pulled it free and the mutants head exploded as the trooper put a las bolt through its head. 

“Thanks.” The trooper said breathing heavily. He fired wildly at another mutant, its legs turned to pulp and its chest exploded outwards. Noctis waddled up beside Thorke, his rotator blurting bullets at the traitorous forces. Thorke threw his autogun from him, picking up a discarded shotgun and clicking his bayonet into place. Just as he done so a mutated traitor leapt at him. He slammed his bayonet into its torso, as it hung in mid air he fired the shotgun sending the traitor off the bayonet and through the air in a gory explosion of flesh and gristle. Another came at him, he smashed it to its knees before putting the bayonet through its one eyeball and kicking it back.

Neirv ran up to a heretical sentinel, tossing a frag grenade through its viewing window. Its pilot screamed as he tried to scramble out before the grenade blew the sentinel open. It collapsed with a metallic clang on the rockrete of the bridge. A mutant leapt over it at Neirv, who pulled his trigger with a trained finger. His lasgun sent a beam of light through the torso of the mutant, which fell dead against the ground. 

Noctis waddled further on, pasting another heretic with his rotator before sweeping down five mutants with a hail of bullets. He seen the commissar smash a huge mutant to the ground with a punch of his power fist, and then he swung round smashing the head of a mutant off with a sleek upper cut. The two missionaries were cutting into traitorous flesh with zealous fury. Their white robes were stained pinkish with heretical blood, one was bleeding from a gash down his eye. 

Thorke dodged a nail post swipe, ducking low and springing up like a cornered beast. His anger at the enemy was swelling, blocking out the stinging pain of his stump which was bleeding again. A huge explosion shook the earth; a Vulture had fallen from the skies and slammed against the bridge, crushing a salamander assault vehicle. It was the second crashed flyer he had seen, one of which was Valkyrie 260, the same one that had saved them back at the fuel depot. He slammed his shotgun into the mutant, the bayonet splitting its ribcage. He fired. The mutant’s chest opened up in a shower of bone fragments and blood. He spun on his heel, firing again, turning a traitor into a flying rag doll of flesh. 

He racked the shotguns slide, expelling the used shell case from the spout and letting a new one in. He done so just in time as a massive mutant turned and seen him. It stomped forward, stalking its prey. He fired twice, blood squirted from small wounds in the mutants flesh, but it continued its relentless advance. He ran at it, spinning past it as it grabbed for him. He fired into its back and it stumbled forwards, it looked round. Its head twisted round to an unnatural angle and its bulbous fly like eyes regarded him. Just before the commissar jumped up and smashed his power fist into its head. One of the mutant’s eyes was pulped, leaking viscous fluids onto the bridge. The commissar landed well, rolling and charging the mutant again. The mutant roared and slammed its fist against its weapon, a huge hammer, in anticipation of a fight. The commissar spun round, dodging well despite his large build. His power fist slammed into the beasts lower jaw and as its head flew back quickly he fired his entire clip of bolt pistol rounds into the mutant’s head. The huge mutant collapsed dead, its head little more than a welter of brain fluids and gristle. 

The commissar turned around, back handing a heretic with a knife with his normal hand before sending him high into the air with a punch of the power fist. Thorke fired his shotgun, making a cripple of a woman with a sickle. Her screams were high and chilling. 
The commissar finished her with a bolt through the head. 

A huge footstep shook the earth. Another, in front of the imperials. And through the smoke of war emerged a huge hulking machine. A titan. Reaver class titan sporting a huge plasma weapon and a power fist. It stomped down, crushing one of its own tanks without remorse. A volley of tank shots slammed into it, its shields flickered but the shots made no damage on the actual machine. 

Thorke knew the Warhound he had seen earlier wouldn’t be far behind, but he doubted its ability to fight the heretical reaver.


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## Chaosrider

another good chapter. i think its tense but you used seen where saw would of fitted better. and a few little things like that.. but keep the good reading coming!


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## Templar Marshal

Yeah keep it up mate this is excellent reading:victory:.+ rep


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## TheJolt

Wow guys thanks for the comments, it's great to have readers as dedicated as you!"

Chapter 6... roughly tomorrow.

-TJ


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## TheJolt

Chapter 6 - A small victory

The reaver took another titanic footstep, its huge foot left an impression in the rockrete of the bridge. Thorke felt the vibrations ripple out across the bridge. The commissar brought him back into conscious thought. 

“The Emperor protects! Have faith and no engine of battle can strike you!” The words came from the heart; Thorke could tell that from how the commissar said it without doubt of its truth. One of the missionaries toppled, a tentacle speared through his chest. The commissar blew the tentacle away with a flurry of bolts, threw the pistol at the mutant and picked up the missionaries chainsword. 

“I am his sword, with which he strikes down the tainted!” With those words he cut the mutant down from brain to bowels. The two half collapsed with a meaty slump. Thorke racked the slide of his shotgun, the spent shell flying past his face as it was ejected. He fired without need for thought, a needle toothed beast exploded, acidic blood burning the rockrete below their feet. Rack, fire, death, repeat. That was his programming now; he had no need to consider his actions. Another traitor crumpled, his brain oozing onto the bridge from a gap in its deformed skull. 

Noctis’ hands were sweaty; the heat from his rotator was intense. He swept it over another traitor, the chaos troopers bowels spilled onto the ground. The traitor tried without success to put them back in. He looked up, the Reaver was widening its stance, and he became acutely aware of a smaller thump throughout the bridge. He looked round, seeing the Warhound prowling through the Imperial ranks towards its quarry. Its mega bolter opened up, spewing mini rockets down the bridge. They detonated against the Reaver; they created ripples across its shielding like pebbles in a pond. The Reaver answered without warning.

Neirv’s ears pounded, the shriek of the Reaver plasma cannon discharging a shot was deafening. The incandescent beam of plasma energy flew down the bridge and slammed into the Warhound; the Warhounds shields flickered and died down. A flurry of carapace missiles followed, slamming the Warhound back, and its shields died totally. It responded with a shot from its own plasma cannon. Like a holy bolt it hit the Reaver in the chest. The Reaver hardly even moved its shields died for an instant before shielding the machine once again. Then it fired. Neirv screamed as the unholy shriek made his ears bleed. The Warhound swayed under the power of the shot, it stumbled like a drunk before toppling over the edge of the bridge. Neirv watched in horror as it pulled down support cables with it and the bridge lurched under the sudden strain, quickly auto repair systems had levelled the structure out again. The splash of the Warhound upon the toxic, irradiated waters below confirmed its death. 

Thorke grimaced at the sight; the unholy Reaver had crushed the Warhounds attempts like a fly and had swatted it off the bridge. Even the commissar appeared dismayed, that didn’t stop him finishing off the cultist sergeant on the edge of his sword. Thorke turned round quickly, slamming the butt of his gun into a cultist before driving the bayonet through its abdomen as it doubled up. He fired into another of the crazed warp beasts, this one exploded in a muscle spasm fired release of spines. They impaled both an Imperial and a cultists struggling in close combat. He racked the slide, and fired, watching a tentacle beast slump over and wriggle around before dying. 

“Back, retreat back to the sandbags!” The commissar roared. The guardsmen did so with slight relief. They were escaping the shadow of the Reaver, for now. Thorke sprinted, seeing Neirv and Noctis doing so too. A man beside him fell, riddled with spike like bullets. Another fell, his head dissolved by acid. They were about fifty metres from the sandbags when the baneblade fired, its huge cannon hit the Reaver square in the head, but its shields took the brunt of the hit. Then two marauder bombers flew overhead, dropping a deadly carpet bomb of high explosives down onto the chaos horde. For an instant the mass of mutants disappeared in the fires of the explosions, when the fires died the mass had become a rabble. Tens of thousand were dead or dying and countless tanks were cooking off and exploding in the aftermath. But yet the Reaver stood its ground, and fired. A carapace rockets took the wing off a marauder and it ploughed into the bridge, and exploded in a huge fireball. Part of the bridge collapsed and the Reaver swayed slightly.

Thorke leapt over the sandbags and slammed up against them, peering over at the disbanded chaos forces, the Imperials had just revealed their trump card. Now all they had to do was capitalize on it. Heavy weapons opened up, bolters pumped rounds into the traitors and lascannons aimed high above them, at the Reaver. Thunderbolts were flying past, sending chaos flyers crashing into the waters below. The battle in the air was being won. The Reaver sent out a booming sound like a laugh and fired its plasma cannon. A Leman Russ squadron were melted to slag in a millisecond. The Baneblade fired back, every weapon it had was now concentrated on the reaver.

“Volley it!” The commissar yelled. Lascannon teams fired, rocket launchers teams done the same and all across the Imperial artillery lines basilisks lobbed their shells at the behemoth of unholy steel before them. Its shields flickered under such scrutiny. Still the Imperials kept firing; even some troopers began firing lasgun shots in a vain attempt to help defeat the titan. Then, abruptly as the Reaver had appeared its shields died. 

“Keep firing!” The order was followed simply; the heavy weapons continued their relentless attacks and the basilisks pounded the Reaver with high velocity anti-tank shells. But it was to be a strike from above that hit the Reaver and finally toppled it. And such an attack had not been ordered.

****

Marauder pilot Sef corkscrewed his large craft past enemy flak gun fire. He struggled in his fight against the control stick. He levelled out the aircraft and began another bombing run; he didn’t use many high explosives however. The enemy armoured vehicles would become bombs if they overcooked. Which he would ensure happened. 

The bombs detonated. Sending limbs flying and making scrap of a few tanks in the initial explosions. He smiled as a tank went hot and exploded, then another. All the pieces were falling into place nicely. He turned hard, pressing back against his seat as the sudden g-force hit him. He seen the Reaver from behind, its shields were down and it was shrugging off whatever the Imperials were hitting it with through sheer strength of armour. 

He decided this was his moment, his time to strike down the heart of the enemy. Such a chance could not be missed. He made a few calculations and loaded bombs with a three minute timer. Then he flew off, swooping through incoming flak and hurtling higher into the air until he was higher than the titan. Then he fired the thrusters and flew far down the bridge and turned at great speed. He nearly passed out with the pressure on his body. 

A dial showed the bomb timer, sixty seconds.

He said a prayer, touched the Aquila dangling from his neck and fired the final booster. The engines flared, screens showed they would explode if pushed any further, just what he wanted to hear. A red light flashed showing he was close to critical. 

Thirty seconds. 

He flicked another booster switch and he felt vibrations shudder through the cockpit as the engines hit meltdown point. There was no going back. The Reavers cockpit was fashioned into a leering face like a jesters mask. 

Ten seconds. 

He smiled as he seen the dial, the vibrations got louder and stronger; he could see the cockpit was now visibly shaking.

Five seconds.

“The Emperor protects.”

Impact. 

****

Thorke’s eyes widened in disbelief as the bomber slammed into the face of the titan. It exploded like the birth of a new sun and he could see the head of the titan was decimated, molten metal ran like a stream from its neck joint. It stumbled back, its legs gave and it fell. It hit the ground like a meteor, the bridge lurched suddenly and Thorke toppled over. Regaining his balance he watched as the Reaver moved slightly, the bridge below its body was crumpling. Then the Reaver reactor when nuclear. 

The shockwave hit him, throwing him against the ground roughly. The sandbags fell like a paper wall. He looked at where the Reaver had once been, now there was a gap in the bridge about twenty metres wide. No sign remained of the Reaver. The enemy were retreating, disheartened by the loss of such a war god. The battle for Burnt crossing was won, but at a hard cost.


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## Templar Marshal

Another awsome chapter man keep this coming :biggrin:.


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## TheJolt

Thanks again! Yeah chapter 7 won't be up till the weekend, I'm bogged under coursework etc.


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## Boc

Ah a Pyrrhic victory, quite good considering your age.

And do I see some imitation in the countdown sequence? 

Good stuff though, keep it up.


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## TheJolt

Boc said:


> Ah a Pyrrhic victory, quite good considering your age.
> 
> And do I see some imitation in the countdown sequence?
> 
> Good stuff though, keep it up.


Imitation from where? Honestly I don't have a clue.

-TJ


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## TheJolt

Chapter 7 – You already know how it will end

*Two days after the victory at Burn Crossing*

“What the hell kind of name is Thorke? I eat my dinner with _Thorkes_!” The Flight lieutenant spat at him. The man was a tall, thin man who had an aurora of cockiness about him. His coloured stripes and multiple badges showed him as being a much decorated lieutenant. Thorke stood solid in the face of such petty scrutiny, what annoyed him was that the officer had to pick out his name in order to feel superior.

“I eat mine with _forks_,” Thorke said, grinning at the lieutenants’ anger. The plan map of the city in front of them flickered with the lights during some electronic interference. Commissar Hectris, the same commissar from the bridge, stepped in suddenly.

“Come on, we don’t have time for petty disputes. We have very little time and options as it is.” Thorke and the lieutenant nodded in agreement. Hectris was still wearing his tattered greatcoat and his powerfist was still attached. Thorke had discovered it was built into his augmented arm. 

“The lightning strikes are unnatural occurrences, concentrated on some very large structure just over the plasma generators,” The flight lieutenant said pointing to a large blue dot on the holo-map. Purple lightning strikes were hitting it constantly. Thorke couldn’t think what it was for, or whether it was truly a weapon of chaos. Whatever it was it was huge, standing far taller than a reaver titan.

“So that’s our objective?” Thorke asked, curious as to why he was even in the briefing room. The lights flickered again, the glow globes dimming and powering up again almost in symphony with the lightning strikes. 

“Indeed it is, whatever that thing is it obviously requires vast quantities of energy. We need to find out what it is, and if required to do so – stop it,” Hectris explained, casting his hand over the area around the blue dot. The flight lieutenant stepped forward.

“That’s where I come in then, eh?” He asked raising an eyebrow. Thorke noticed an ornate bolt pistol in a holster by his thigh, its gold engraved script named the battles he had been in. His number of wars rivalled Thorke’s.

“Yes. You are going to provide cover fire from above and before we engage the inevitable resistance your marauder are going to carpet bomb any enemy armour. Understood?” Hectris had it all planned out, but plans always fell apart during war. 

“Understood, sir.” Hectris smiled, the pieces were falling together in his instrument of attack. Thorke lit a Torq stick and started drawing in long puffs of smoke. He missed Neirv and Noctis; they were stuck in the armoury, kitting out a bunch of rookies.

“Now, Thorke,” The Commissar began, smiling to the Corporal who he had saved on the bridge.

“Sir?” Thorke questioned puffing out Torq smoke. 

“You are my dagger in this operation, to stab the heart of the enemy. I have direct control of this operation; you are an extension of that authority. You will lead a column of Achilles pattern APCs, driving through the sector and getting to the objective as quickly as possible. You have permission to engage any resistance.” Thorke nodded, taking in the situation and suddenly he had the weight of tens of men’s lives on his shoulders. Achilles APCs were stubborn vehicles capable of shrugging off quite heavy punishment. 

“I understand sir, but how do we get across to the outer city? The bridge is destroyed.” Hectris smiled at the question, remembering a pre-empted answer.

“We have two Medusa bridge layers already on their way there, under the cover of night they will lay the temporary bridges over the gap. Thus allowing your column to proceed,” Hectris rhymed the answer off out of memory and Thorke seemed satisfied with the plan. The flight lieutenant had left, and Thorke followed soon after. Hectris looked over the ornate plan of the city as the door closed and the lock turned. 

“I hope to The Emperor this works.” 

****

Thorke entered the hustle-bustle of the armoury. Recruits were looking around everywhere, cocking guns and snapping off shots down the range. He could see Noctis further down the room, handing a trooper a lasgun and showing him the safety catch and auto fire buttons. He muscled through the crowd of troops, who looked like they had seen very little combat. They would be forged into warriors, or be left by the wayside. 

He left his shotgun on a rack and took a lasgun and fitted an under slung grenade launcher, Saturn pattern red dot sight and laser designator - you could never be over equipped. He picked up as many power cells as he could find, about twenty in all and fitted them to his ammo belt. He grabbed himself a hand full of frag grenades out of a grenade crate and put them in his pockets. He looked over his shoulder; his shotgun had already been taken by a rookie in need of a weapon. 

“Thorke! Get over here!” Noctis shouted. Thorke scrambled over, seeing Neirv and two other soldiers. The two new troopers looked like they could handle themselves, well muscled and fit. One was a woman, her thin yet strong arms flexed as she fidgeted with the trigger of her lasgun. “This is our driver Pertunia and our passenger side gunner Citril.”

Citril was stocky, well muscled and hard looking. Pertunia was pretty, her shockingly white hair, pale skin and plump red lips fitted together well. She was quite tall and her armour concealed the curve of her hips and bust. 

“Good to meet you, Thorke,” Citril smiled shaking Thorke’s hand. Not as solid as he looked judging by his handshake Thorke thought. Pertunia also shook his hand, quite firmly considering her delicate frame. 

“You too,” Thorke said. He put on his helmet, feeling it rubbing on the stubble like hair growing on his head, not to mention his facial stubble that had grown since he hadn’t shaved in....he couldn’t remember how long. Both of the new group members had short barrelled lasgun, designed to be used in close quarters city fighting. They were perfect for the mission at hand. Pertunia had her weapon slung over her small shoulders; a combat knife was clipped to her thigh. Citril’s lasgun was in his hands, he was fidgeting with the catch, toggling it on and off. 

“Now, down to business, what exactly is going on?” Neirv asked. They all huddled in closer as Thorke sat on a weapons table puffing his Torq stick.

“We are leading an Achilles APC column into the enemy territory, trying to find....objective alpha, yes I like that. Let’s call it objective alpha. Marauder and thunderbolt fighters will pave the way, decimating the main enemy armour and resistance points. However we may, no will, have to deal with some ourselves. Once at objective alpha we will meet with Commissar Hectris and deal with alpha accordingly. Understood?” Thorke said, taking a long drag of smoke afterwards. They all nodded, racking the slides on their weapons. Thorke noticed Noctis didn’t have his rotator. Noctis seen him looking at the lasgun he was using instead of his regular rotator.

“They made me leave it behind; I have to use this wimpy piece of frag.” Thorke shook his head in disappointment.

“Unlucky, I had plans for that damn thing,” he said, Noctis nodded. “Anyways, let’s get into an Achilles, I call the top gun!” Thorke smiled. He pressed the vox caster mount on the wall and it sent out his pre-recorded command. 

+ All soldiers please report to Achilles APCs immediately. +

The recruits scrambled to get into an APC, barging through their comrades in order to secure a vehicle with their friends. Thorke jumped into the middle back seat, directly below the top mounted heavy stubber. Pertunia took the wheel and started the ignition, Noctis and Neirv were to Thorkes sides and Citril took the front mounted stubber that protruded out the armoured window. The APC lurched forward and the others behind it done the same. He stood up, taking the handles of the heavy stubber and beginning the auto ammunition feed. 

The APC hangar door opened with the whine of pistons and hiss of escaping steam. The six wheeled all terrain vehicles sped out quickly, forming an armoured column. They filled the road and immediately all the drivers switched on their headlamps to pierce the unnatural night that chaos had concealed the world with. Thorke turned on the stubber mounted searchlight attached to the top mount and began sweeping the surrounding building for enemy militia and opportunistic raiders. Purple lightning split the sky and was attracted to objective alpha, the skies opened up and it began to rain heavily. 

“Commissar Hectris this is Thorke, we are on the move,” he voxed before unholy static enveloped the vox system. They were by themselves now. 

****

The scene was set, the pieces were moving. Commissar Hectris just hoped he had done enough. He took out his personal vox to reply to the message as he walked up to his awaiting Valkyrie gunship.

“Thorke, this is command. Good luck.” He threw the vox from him as all he got back was the hiss of constant static interference. The whine of the gunships engines got louder as he stepped inside the hold of the Valkyrie. His stomach lurched as they took off quickly. He strapped his buckles around him and sat back in the chair as the vibrations hummed through the hold. He prepared for the sacrifice he may have to make.


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## jimmyhoppityhop

these are awesome reads at the momment, keep them up. il been keeping an eye on this, one thing i find weird thou is why didnt the imperial titan first fire its plasma

good to see other people my age on this site  and with such skill!

+rep


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## Templar Marshal

Man you have to keep the chapters coming its good to see people around my age writing such quality stories.


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## TheJolt

Thanks guys, nice to see a new reader also! Im currently having serious keyboard problems.

@jimmy, I would say the smaller imperial titan was wearing the reaver down and would attempt to finish it with a plasma shot. 

SORRY GUYS BUT MY CREATIVE JUICES WEREN'T FLOWING LATELY, UNTIL TODAY, CHECK OUT CHAPTER 8 BELOW!


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## TheJolt

Chapter 8 – Had enough, no time to give up

*Burnt crossing*

The Achilles formed up, two by two to drive over the temporary bridges. The bridge layers were flanking them, though they would be no use in a combat situation. The temporary constructions barely bridged the cap in the crossing point. The rain was hammering down, drenching anything that wasn’t covered. Natural thunder boomed in the skies and unholy lightening struck their objective. Thorke peered from under his helmet peek, the only thing keeping his face slightly dry.

“Our turn,” Pertunia shouted and drove the APC up onto the temporary bridge, it swayed slightly, and unnervingly. They trundled over the over side and onto the far side of the bridge. The rest of the Achilles followed behind them. The armoured flanks of Thorkes APC were scratched and dented, the paintwork had fared no better. He swivelled the roof mounted heavy stubber, they were in the land of the enemy now. Anything could happen, at anytime.... anywhere. They drove out into the desolate, barren and destroyed streets of the outer city. Pole mounted glow globes throbbed, as if with the beat of a massive heart. Thorke scanned every building, the stubber mounted light piercing the gloom of the ruins. He seen scattered shadows, jumping and dodging in the gloom, something was afoot, and Thorke could feel it.

Confirmed

A huge bulky creature smashed from a massive multi-storey vehicle zone. Glass shattered and bricks flew everywhere. Thorke swung the gun mount around quickly, the mounted light showing the beast in its dirt covered majesty. A huge lolling tongue drooped from a sickly moist mouth, strange acidic juices dripped from its teeth. It resembled a huge scorpion like creature, although only vaguely. Instead of claws it had huge scythe like bone blades, much like a praying mantis’. Its tail had another blade embedded in it. All along its spine protruded short stubby spikes and its only flesh part not covered by its outer carapace was its underbelly in which the shapes of men could be made out. All in all it stood as high as a tank and was much wider and longer than a Leman Russ. It shifted on its six, bony legs which ended in curved talons. They swerved past its immense bulk and Thorke nearly wretched at the smell of it, acrid and pungent the scent lingered in the air with a distasteful familiarity. The scent of Nurgle. 

The second APC was caught by the Nurglish beast. It sunk its blades deep into the armour of the vehicle and tore it open like a tin can. Its maw opened and immediately two men were sucked in, the beast swallowed them whole and their screams echoed throughout its body as its stomach acids dissolved their flesh. It slashed the driver in two and clambered over the wreck, crushing the survivor under its immense bulk. It shot out its tale, slashing the third Achilles’ cabin open and revealing the squad within. They yelled in horror as it sprayed them with a regurgitation of its stomach acid. In minutes they became a soup contained the APC. The driver broke and ran. The beast turned slightly, giving the fourth and fifth time to smash through the two wrecked APCs and drive off down the road. The Nurgle creature snapped out its tail and speared the man through the stomach, lifted him up high into the air and dropped him into its awaiting maw. It chewed him to pieces, its teeth penetrating his flak jacket like a needle through paper. 

It turned to find the other APCs had split up and were escaping, it turned again and faced Thorkes vehicle as it drove on down the road. It began to run. 

“Oh crap!” Thorke screamed as it started to gain on them, he opened fire, wildly spraying shots down the road. The beast ignored the fire and ploughed on, smashing through burnt out wrecks and allies alike. Its huge bulk travelled at impossible speed, its legs were spearing into the rockrete of the streets. Thorke continued firing, the recoil was hurting his arms but he couldn’t stop firing if he wanted to live. The stubbers chain feed kept supplying him precious ammunition. The barrel was nearing red hot. The beast roared, spraying acidic spit everywhere. It ate into the road as blobs of it settled. The beast bounded forward thrusting itself through a wrecked passenger carrier. Thorke kept pumping shots into it and one, through luck not skill of aim, hit its flesh eyes. One of ten popped like a water balloon, spilling viscous fluids over its face. It stopped abruptly, slewing to a halt at speed. 

“Thank frag for lucky shots!” Neirv shouted from below, Thorke grinned before replying.

“Pfff, you wouldn’t know skill if you bumped into me.” The cabin erupted into laughter, more out of the fact they needed cheering up than the funniness of the joke. Thorke looked up again and seen the creature was gone. He shivered. “That thing isn’t there no more,” He whispered down into the cabin. They all peered out the windows in fear of where it might be, Pertunia cast her gave out the side window. When she looked back a shadow loomed in front of the APC, it was in front of them. She screamed and turned the wheel, but wasn’t fast enough. It slammed its claws into the sides of the APC and lifted it off the ground. It roared its approval of the meal within the tin can vehicle, its huge tongue hung limply from its mouth. 


Out of survival instinct and not trained skill Citril pressed his thumbs on the passenger side guns firing studs. The stubber fired instantly, pumping hot lead into the beasts face. A flurry of shots shredded its tongue and broke teeth; another pulped two more of its eyes. With a final roar of agony the beast dropped them. The shock of the impact took the wheels a second to recover from before Pertunia slammed her foot down on the pedal; the vehicle lurched forward underneath the Nurgle creature before picking up speed and gunning down the road. The beast however, gave pursuit. The fourth APC came from a side road; Pertunia could not avoid hitting it as it came into sight too suddenly. By coming out in front of her the driver had condemned every man in his APC to a horrific death. The beast leapt onto the APC, cutting into it and gorging down on every man and woman inside. Blood and gore dripped from the remnants of its tongue. The shapes of bodies being forced down its gullet and into its digestive sack made Thorke retch over the top of the Achilles. He looked up again, wiping his mouth. The beast threw the wreck of the APC away like a child might throw its toy. It smashed through a building, causing it to collapse. 

“Put your foot down!” He screamed as it powered towards them, its huge claws flicking out at him. Almost instantly they picked up speed, smashing through a blockage with such speed as to send sandbags higher than some of the surrounding buildings. He smiled as a Valkyrie came up overhead, flying low. The side gunner on the right was firing the mounted heavy bolter at the huge Nurgle monstrosity. Flesh exploded out and blood flew into the air as the explosive mini-rockets hit the creature. It looked up at the flyer, regarding it with its remaining seven eyes. 

It bounded onto the side of a building, running along it. Its talon ended legs grasped the side of the building as it clambered higher. Thorke watched in amazement as it traversed the building as if it were walking on the street. Then it leapt of it. Its huge body powered by its muscular legs and it landed atop the Valkyrie. The flyer ducked slightly under its weight, the engines whining under the stress of the new source of weight. Thorke gazed in awe at such a spectacle. The beast cut the cockpit opened with a slice of its blade tipped tail. It ate the pilot like he was but a snack for it. Then it cut into the wings of the Valkyrie, one blade cut the engines fuel supply on the right wing. The left engines thrust caused the flyer to spin wildly in a death spiral. The beast leapt off onto another buildings side before leaping onto the street again, silhouetted by the explosion of the flyer as it hit the ground. 

“DRIVE!” Thorke screamed and started firing again.


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## Serpion5

All I can say is that if you can keep pace with this (which you obviously can) and other stories, you have everything you need to be a professional writer. 

Look into it... Seriously. This stuff is great. With practice and refinement, you can be in the big leagues. I wish I had made the decision to be a writer at your age. I made the decision a bit too late, and now it`s too hard to get off the ground. 

Don`t make that mistake. 

+rep for this.


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## TheJolt

Oh man thanks! I'm seriously considering that option, since writing is my oxygen (my lungs are frigged!). I'm sorry to here that man, but I'm sure you can make it!

Chapter 9, tomorrow or saturday.

-TJ


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## Templar Marshal

Hey TJ another great couple of chaps keep it up man. I agree with Serpion you have what it take to be a pro writer. If you ever get published I'd buy your books.


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## jimmyhoppityhop

damn nurgle is evreywhere, "DRIVE!!!!" man i thought they were gonna be toast for a moment but then there wouldnt be any more chapters so a no to that.

keep them up, i want to see how this beast is dealt with


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## TheJolt

Hey TM, great to see you're still reading this! Wow, thanks!

@ Jimmy, yeah I wanted that effect, so obviously it worked, thanks for reading!

-TJ


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## TheJolt

Chapter 9 – Unexpected revelations, aid from above 

The Achilles sped down the road, throwing up clouds of dust and grit into the pursuing beast of Nurgle. Its thin spidery legs were moving so quick they were but a blur upon the road. The huge beast as behind them, close behind them. Thorke kept firing. Bullets pinged off and dented its massively thick, bone carapace. It snapped out with its huge tail, shearing the stubber barrel off and causing the weapon to misfire. Thorke ducked back into the cabin as it back fired and the magazine started to cook off. The magazine erupted in a spray of activated bullets, they flew into the air little tiny fireworks. However, the misfire was to their advantage. Some of the bullets hit the huge beast as it went in for a crushing blow. They penetrated it’s under belly and thick blood spewed from large holes. 

“Yeah frag that piece of crap!” Pertunia shouted. The smile on her face was wiped away as she looked in the wing mirror to see the beast raising its right claw. The pressed down the acceleration pedal and swerved to the right frantically. The claw barely missed. It was mere inches from shearing through the cabin. Thorke, seizing the initiative, grabbed his las rifle and jumped up into the stubber cupola. He looked down the Saturn pattern dot sight and activated the under slung grenade launcher. He pulled the trigger. 

The sudden whoomp followed by the powerful recoil bruised his shoulder. The grenade exploded harmlessly off the monstrosity’s carapace. It reared up on its back four legs and thumped down heavily. Then it began the hunt once more. It chased the speeding APC down the highway, smashing away the wreckages the Achilles was forced to weave through. Thorke reloaded the under slung grenade launcher, slamming in an anti-armour grenade. Surely a tank busting grenade should pop an over grown scorpion? He thought as he fired again. The grenade whistled through the air and hit the beast. The explosion was more concentrated than a frag grenade, designed purely to crack open bunkers and tanks. The grenade had managed to crack and splinter its carapace, but against the odds the creature shrugged it off with a muscular twitch and powered onwards. Thorke slammed in another grenade and fired. The shot whistled through the air and blew a hole in the beasts face; it screamed in angered pain but carried on its pursuit.

Thorke grabbed his vox-comm, clicked it to open wave and shouted.

“This is Thorke. We need some serious assistance concerning pest control!” Not long afterwards the vox crackled and he heard the stubborn, hoarse voice of an ageing woman.

“Control HQ here, we are tracking you. Prepare for pest control!” He knew it to be Savant Judas. A woman more suited to the battlefield than in shops. She raised her voice at the end as if in anticipation of some great spectacle. They heard a mild shriek. It vibrated through the Achilles and they all looked around despite the massive creature still pursuing them. Thorke stopped firing, caught up in the awe of what was unfolding. The shrieks became louder. Above them five blazing fires were descending, angels upon wings of fire and fuel. Their blades whirred continuously, their mechanised teeth grinding around. Their guns glowed plasma green, emitting superheated gases as they fired. Their armour was brown, a cream paw was printed onto each shoulder guard and their helmets were forged to resemble a snarling bear.

The Angels of Death had arrived. 

****

Commissar Hectris smiled as he watched the Astartes jump from the Valkyrie, their jump packs fired into life to keep from falling through the air. He was in awe of them, their huge forms flew through the air with trained efficiency and he couldn’t help but feel that victory was assured with such soldiers on their side. The problem was, he knew they had only joined their cause for two reasons. The first was the certainty that traitor legion Astartes were among the enemy forces guarding the objective. The second he knew to be the fact that they knew more than they were saying about ‘The objective’; whether that was good or not he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that Thorke and the survivors of his armoured column had to make it to the objective. They were instrumental in the destruction of whatever the objective turned out to be. All the Astartes had only told him that it had to be destroyed at all costs, or the sector would fall in days. 

From their high flying point he could see their objective, a hugely bulky construction with three massive masts which were constantly being struck by the unholy purple lightning. Lights were searching the skies above it and the hustle of activity below was obvious even from so high. Whatever it was it was bloody well defended. Smoke billowed from short stubby chimneys and the construction glowed red with an unholy heat being emitted from within. 

The Valkyrie lurched and Hectris gripped the side of the hatchway tightly, not fancying his chances f he fell out. All around the command Valkyrie, in which he was standing, was a swarm of other flyers. All ready to unleash hell upon the city at a moments notice. He wiped his forehead of sweat, even at such high altitudes the engines heat baked the inside compartment. The wing was billowing past them, causing the flyer to shudder unnervingly. Hectris was used to such things, having been flown into battle all his life. He touched the Aquila hung around his neck on an ornate silver chain and whispered softly.

“By His will shall we prevail, no task to hard and no burden too heavy. We shall prevail.”

**** 

“Cut the engines!” Thorke shouted down to Pertunia, abruptly the Achilles stopped, screeching as its damaged brakes touched the wheels. Thorke could hardly speak, the five marines had landed atop the beast and sliced into it like cheese-wire, lacerating its vital organs and spilling its life blood onto the rockrete of the streets. Their jump packs were starved of fuel and they smoked slightly. They all disembarked the vehicle, pacing towards the dead beast in both shock and awe. They all had their weapons drawn, not risking another of the Nurgle thing’s tricks.

“Look, its Achilles five, seven and twelve!” Pertunia smiled as here APC’s trundled around the corner. One was visibly burning just under the engine hood and another had a gaping hole melted into its armoured left flank. 

“Thank the Emperor someone made it out too!” Thorke shouted, joy overwhelming him at seeing survivors. They were not alone in the darkness. The five marines were standing before them, their swords in ornate scabbards and their pistols held in their hands. One of them, evidently a leader by his purity seals and overly elaborate armour had his helmet held in his grasp. His face was worn and pitted with deep scars. The only powerful features of his face were his eyes, dark and deep, betraying a lifetime of war and untold wisdom. He walked over to Thorke, fully two heads taller than Noctis when in front of them, making him even taller than the rest of the group. 

“Good to see the armoured column has yet retained some strength!” The marine bellowed his voice like a thunder clap. His armour was dirty and rented; a lifetime worth of elaborate medals and seals were pinned to his chest plate. 

“If it were not for you and your squad it may not have had very much left,” Thorke said, attempting to hide the fear in his voice. The marine smiled graciously and extended his armoured hand. Thorke shook it as best he could, attempting to get a grip on the giants hand. A blue-white streak flew through the air, throwing an Astarte from his feet and slamming him against the road. He leapt up as if unhurt and pulled his chainsword out and returned his helmet to his head. With a flurry of clicks the entire squad had fastened their helmets and the vox of their sergeant’s helmet crackled.

“Come, we may already be too late!”


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## TheJolt

Heya guys, are you still reading this?


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## Chaosrider

well i definitely am...


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## TheJolt

Good to see you chaosrider. I think the others may have moved on :/

I'm bust at the minute so I will pm any past readers when the next chapter is submitted.


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## Chaosrider

this is good stuff man. il read it until you do something really stupid or lose the plot... or it finishes.


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## Serpion5

Don`t let up, it`s getting better!

Sorry for lack of replies. Been working on a few of my own.

Stay with it though.:victory:


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## TheJolt

Okay thanks Serpion, good to know your a dedicated reader.

Chapter 10 - saturday. 

-TJ


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## Templar Marshal

Im still reading as well  lol.


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## TheJolt

Aw good to see you are TM! Why the sad face?


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## Templar Marshal

Because I've got exams for the next week which means I might miss a few chaps.


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## TheJolt

Guys, sorry to say that I haven't posted lately. Mainly down to my exams, revision, and generally writers block. Expect a chapter ASAP.

Thanks


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## Lopspoon

This is a really great piece of work, I feel compelled to + Rep you, so enjoy  anyways, I'm hoping to see some plague marines soon


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## TheJolt

This is dead


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## jimmyhoppityhop

its not dead, it needs more working on, having exams is what we all go through and we all understand you stopped to do the, now its summer and youve got them done i think you need to give a crack at it again, im still here and reading even if i dont post, and look at you views! their always going up meaning people are paying attention!


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## Templar Marshal

Jimmy and Lop are right man this is a good piece of work and its not dead. Just needs a bit work. +rep for not forgetting about this great piece of writing.


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## arturslv

I read it all and I really liked it! I really wish to read the next chappter, you've got some serious talent, man! +rep as well!


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## TheJolt

I am re-reading this, re-compiling it, etc

Expect updates soonish.

artuslv - I live near you  haha


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## Templar Marshal

Good to see that you haven't forgotten this gem of a story. Can't wait till the updates. +rep


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