# Timothy Grange



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

Just came up with the idea for this extremely tough cadian guardsman, hope you enjoy 

“Heavy stubber!” Timothy Grange screamed at the top of his lungs, dropping to the floor. All around, his comrades did the same as the reinforced bunker was raked with slugs from a traitor’s heavy stubber. 

“Get back up you fools! Get back up and fight!” Commissar Yule ordered, looking at the prone guardsmen in disgust. 

The man next to Timothy immediately stood up, and a stray bullet smashed into his helmet, denting it severely and fracturing his skull. He dropped down, knocked cold. Timothy dragged him to the side of the bunker before picking up his autogun and running to the gun port to fire it at the advancing heretics. A few feet to his left, Leonard Pip fired away with a mounted heavy bolter. 

Tim ducked once more as the heavy stubber started to fire upon them again. But, fearing Commissar Yule’s wrath, he brought his gun up and started to shoot once more.

As he ducked down once more to escape the flying slugs, Timothy yelled at the commissar, “Sir, we have to retreat! That heavy stub—” Tim blacked out as a high intensity laser bore into his chest. He woke a few seconds later, Leonard Pip looking at him, then to the commissar fearfully before firing away with his heavy bolter once more. 

Tim coughed up blood, and drawing forth all his strength, he staggered onto his feet once more, “Commissar, we cannot hold,” he rasped. Commissar Yule turned his way, his eyes wide in surprise. 

“I admire your courage in trying to dissuade me... for the second time. But no,” Yule said defiantly, “I will not stand down to these Chaos dogs. They will have to plant a bullet into my heart before I do. I will let you live, for you must be either stupid or brave to cross me twice. I warn you however, do not _advise_ me again.” 

At hearing this, Timothy’s legs gave way and he fell to the ground, leaning on the bunker’s hard concrete walls.Yule beckoned and a guardsman crossed the bunker over to Timothy, crouching below the gun port so as not to get shot. He kneeled by and removed a medipac from his belt. Grabbing a jar of salve, he treated the scar and handed Tim some painkillers. 

Feeling slightly better, Timothy grabbed his autogun and crawled over to the gun port, peeking over the ledge only to shoot. The traitor Guardsmen were getting closer and Timothy could even see chaos space marines, their armour a twisted, perverse image of their loyalist counterparts. This was going to be a hell of a fight, and Tim doubted any of them would escape alive. 

“...swamped by enemies and requesting heavy artillery barrage, over!” Lt. Egger was yelling into his vox caster, “Zero, three, three, novemb—” At that moment, a horrid mass of muscle shot through the gun port, covering Egger’s face. Egger thrashed wildly for several long seconds, clawing at the terrible being covering his face before going limp, dropping his lasgun and falling to his knees. 

The ball of flesh leaped away once more, and to everyone’s horror, it took Egger’s head with it. 

“Daemon scum!” Commissar Yule screamed, bringing his las pistol to bear, he emptied a dozen rounds into the flying daemon. The construct of chaos hissed and bounced out of the bunker. Timothy’s eyes followed it out the gun port.

“By the Emperor’s holy light...”


----------



## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

great stuff, i hope there will be more! i'm still editing your false patriots story. sorry its taking so long, but i have deadlines to meet too for other people. but it is progressing slowly but surly. Cheers!

:drinks:

Commissar Ploss


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

there will be more if you want it


----------



## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

damn sure i do!


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

There, outside the bunker and mingling with the traitor Guardsmen were scores of twisted, horrid, fearsome daemons. They were the most fear-inspiring things Timothy had ever seen and they were going to kill him, him and all his comrades with him. 

Even Yule was off balance, losing a bit of his swagger. Still, Timothy thought it stupid to ask for a retreat for the third time, although it would not matter if the Commissar killed him. In fact, Timothy almost asked to fall back once more in the hopes of an easier death than the one he knew was to come. He stopped however, compelled--by what Timothy reckoned to be insanity—to stay and fight. 

Tim thought the squad had about ten or fifteen minutes before the traitors would reach the bunker and wipe them out completely. Everyone else was staring out the gun port at the daemons, eerily mesmerized, everyone except Yule, who quickly brought attention by way of a las bolt through Pvt. Beneda’s throat.

“Fight you filth!” Commissar Yule roared, inspiring courage through fear. 
The Guardsmen scrambled to their positions, desperately emptying their weapons into the advancing lines. As Timothy’s autogun clicked to show it was out of ammo, he reached for the clip that was always in his pocket. As his hand found nothing, he looked around hoping to ask for a magazine from one of his comrades. To his great terror, all his squad mates’ guns were without ammo. 

Timothy gripped his gun tightly, his face grim. His gaze slowly moved to the adamantine bayonet that tipped his weapon. They were all dead, Tim knew. None of his comrades could wield a close combat weapon, only Yule. Timothy knew the effectiveness of a Guardsman at close combat and he tried not to think about it. 

Reaching underneath his Flak jacket, Timothy’s hand closed around the locket he always wore around his neck. He brought it out and opened it, smiling at the crisp image. The pict was of him, his wife and his daughter having a picnic on Tim’s once-magnificent homeworld, Ellenia. It had been razed to the ground by Abbadon and his Black Legion, situated as it was so near the Eye of Terror. Everything he had cared for was gone. This was why he joined up with the Cadians, to kill Chaos scum. 

_And kill I shall..._Timothy thought grimly, closing the locket and placing it back beneath his armour. 

Timothy risked a peek above the gun port. Only a few minutes, and he was dreading the time he would have to stick his bayonet into another flying mass of flesh. He sighed, tapping his head against the concrete walls. There had to be some way to live, to survive. Wherever the answer lay, it was eluding him. 
As he contemplated his life, Tim felt a tear slide down his cheek. So this is how it’s going to end? Then he’d face it, he’d give himself credit for staring down the Black Legion traitors' gun barrels. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his gun, waiting. He peeked once more over the gun port, a chaos space marine’s bolter nearly missing his head.

_1,_ Timothy counted in his head,_ 2, 3...Go!_

He leapt up suddenly and, to everyone’s surprise and horror, he placed his hand firmly on the ledge of the gun port and swung his legs over. All his squad mates were staring; one even had its head blown off by a bolter round. Timothy was screaming all the way down, falling frighteningly fast. Only a few feet from the ground, Tim was suddenly driven into the ground by a blast from behind him. 

Spitting dirt from his mouth and wiping muck off his face, Timothy opened his eyes to hundreds of heretics running forward with murderous glee. He turned his head to see a battered but alive Commissar Yule also recovering from the fall. 

_He came with me..._ Timothy was thinking as he raised his bayonet towards the enemy. _Emperor guard my soul._


----------



## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

friggin richeous! i would have loved to see that in the short story contest. it would have done well. fabulous, just fabulous! i would love if you would collaborate with me sometime on my book. that would be wonderful. if possible, i would love to include Tim as a character. but its all up to you. 

was this the end of tim or was there going to be a section for the close combat with him and the commissar? i'd say to just end it this way...its quite profound. 

cheers, :drinks:

Commissar Ploss

p.s. i'm still editing your other one that you asked me to.


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

thank you thank you very much!! I would be honoured to help however I can with your book! You can definitely have Timothy as a character, and I was going to write about him facing the traitors and surviving (I wont tell you how yet ) but I guess I won't now!


----------



## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

awesome! i'll definitely have to add him in as a character! I'll introduce him in the first chapter! i've got a little ways to go though on the chapter but i'll definitly fit him in. I'll send you a copy of it before i put it up here so you can look it over. Cheers! :drinks:

Commissar Ploss


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

I just thought i'd give a prelude to the story and bump the thread in the process :biggrin:

Timothy Grange was walking home from a short day at work in the vast fields that covered south-western Ellenia, the beautiful agri-world sitting near the Eye of Terror. He walked slowly on the small dirt track that led to the large house, about fifteen minutes away from where he worked. He could already see it in the distance, sitting on the flat horizon. He checked inside the box in his hands for the hundredth time, making sure his daughter’s birthday present was still there. She turned sixteen a few hours ago and wouldn’t be expecting him until near midnight. 

As always, the drab, grey bomb shelter caught his eye and Timothy made a face. How out of place it was in the peaceful fields. He stopped walking as a huge shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw that the sun was partially blocked by a giant ship. He frowned; harvest wasn’t ready to be collected until a couple of days and the Ecclesiarchy had sent more priests the day before. 

Then Timothy was swept off his feet be a massive shockwave that sent him flying backwards about a dozen feet and landing on his back, facing his home. Or what was left of it, for it was destroyed, lying in ruins as the last partial residue of the orbital strike dissipated. Timothy wanted to scream, but no sound escaped his open mouth. He quickly gathered his wits around him and got up, sprinting towards the bomb shelter when another strike knocked him forwards and straight into its walls, knocking the wind out of him. He hurt all over, and he guessed that at least one rib was broken. Holding his side, Timothy staggered down the stairs of the concrete bunker and deep down into the earth. Outside, the explosions were as loud as if he was standing beside them. Several blasts destroyed the bunker and the stairs were blocked with dirt and ash. 

Soon, the sounds lessened then were gone altogether. Then loud thuds could be heard as drop pods smashed into the ground and dirt rained on Timothy’s head. He curled up holding his head and crying, thinking about his daughter and wife. Her birthday... He reached under his shirt and pulled out the silver locket he always wore around his neck. Inside was a pict of his wife and daughter, standing next to him in one of the many parks on Ellenia. 

Tim didn’t know how long he was inside the shelter, didn’t know whether it was night or day, when somebody dug him out of the shelter. When he emerged, he almost didn’t recognize where he was. This could not be Ellenia. Not this barren piece of rock, pockmarked with craters. No, Ellenia was green and beautiful. Then he remembered what happened... Chaos...

-------------

“Orbital Command located the traitors seven clicks to the north-north-east Commissar, contact in approximately ten minutes.” The message came in through the vox.

“Get ready you worthless dogs!” Commissar Yule yelled as Timothy Grange finished his weapons check and leaned against the bunker wall, repeatedly tapping his head against the concrete nervously. He looked at the reflection of the Aquila on his Cadian uniform in his lasgun’s barrel and calmed down. He caught Leonard Pip’s eyes next to him and nodded. It was time to avenge Ellenia.


----------



## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

*very nice.*

good to see a little prelude to what you had written before. it kinda brings everything around full circle. I'm still going to add him as a character if thats still ok with you. Its gonna have to be the third chapter, since i ended up going in a different direction in the first, and the second wont even be about the imp guard. anyways, i'll be letting you know on the progress as it goes along. 

nice piece of work! :drinks:

Commissar Ploss


----------



## KellysGrenadier (Jul 13, 2008)

Bravo. Write more! 10/10.


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

Thanks for the feedback. Kellys, i dunno what to write about next, but suggestions are welcome:biggrin:

Commissar, I still don't object to putting Timothy in your novel


----------



## KellysGrenadier (Jul 13, 2008)

Are you kidding? He just jumped from a bunker into a Horde of Chaotic demons! ANYTHING could happen if you wanted it to? You could have Dreadnoughs, bombardments, Titans, landspeeders, and... oh... Everything!


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

I meant other than writing about the end of the battle. But, if you insist P) I will write about it. :biggrin:


----------



## KellysGrenadier (Jul 13, 2008)

His journey through the hell that is the Imperium, from a raw recruit scarred by circumstance and heartache, to a humble Veteran of the 'Guard. Fighting through hellish theatres of war, he finally liberates a world where he can settle... and live out the rest of his days in relative peace, surrounded by a new family.

I know 'in the future there is only WAAAAR!!! For SPAR-- I mean for the Imperium' and so on, but c'mon... time for an injection of 'happy'. If only for a while.


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

I was thinking more of something along the lines of an abrupt, violent and otherwise untimely end on the far reaches of the galaxy, fighting the enemies he so furiously hates to the very fiery depths of hell...


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

And so the tale ends...



Then he was swept up in his agonizing rage at the traitor scum who had destroyed his 
home, his family. Everything seemed super fast and super slow at the same time, he dodged blades, lasgun butts and flying daemons. He took dozens of hits, his helmet was discarded, his arms heavily cut and bruised, his face swollen as he vainly attempted to hold the heretics at bay. A dozen yards to one side, Commissar Yule fared better, slashing left and right with his power blade, now drenched in blood. 

Timothy thought he heard something, over the din of battle. A quick glance got him a long, deep gash on his chest, but he found the source. A chaos space marine, equipped with a jump pack, was powering up, preparing for a leap. Raptors they were called, Timothy recalled dimly as he stuck his bayonet into the throat of another traitor guardsman. The raptor took to the air and, to Timothy’s terror, flew straight towards the commissar who seemed oblivious to his doom.

Damned I’ll be if I let him die before me, Timothy swore, breaking into a run, slamming himself bodily into everything in his way, earning him many more bruises. Ahead, Commissar Yule detached his blade from the chest of guardsman and immediately plunged it into the heart of another. Behind him, the raptor was seconds away from ripping off Yule’s head with his bare hands. 

A yell slowly working its way out of his throat, Timothy threw himself at the raptor just as its chainsword reached the commissar’s back. Still in the air, the warped space marine was knocked off balance and fell to the ground, on its back. Desperate, Timothy grabbed his autogun with shattered arms, feebly attempting to pierce the raptors throat with its bayonet. The chaos space marine laughed, his arm lunging for Timothy’s head. It stopped inches from his face, and dropped limply to his side. Commissar Yule wrenched his sword free and grunted his thanks to Timothy before fending off three more guardsmen at once.

He staggered upright, holding his autogun with broken hands. He limped forth, but a sudden blast sent him flying backwards a dozen feet and slamming him into the bunker’s walls. The last thing he remembered before finally blacking out was how the same thing happened in Ellenia...

Groaning loudly, Timothy cracked open his eyes and immediately regretted it as a harsh glare of light sent lances of pain through his brain. He did a mental check of his body as he lay on the dirt. Everywhere hurt, he had too many bruises and cuts to count. All his limbs and maybe half his ribs were completely shattered. 

Apparently someone had heard him groaning, for he heard a voice talking to him faintly, as if hundreds of yards away. Timothy moaned and the voice spoke to him again. He hesitantly opened his eyes, to find that the sharp rays of light were blocked by a colossal figure, kneeling over him. 

“...you talk soldier?” The space marine, Timothy assumed the figure was an Astartes, asked. 

“Yes I can bloody well talk.” Timothy rasped feebly, his throat dry and raw. 

“Who do you serve?” 

“The Emperor of Mankind, beloved by all.” 

The space marine gave a slight nod and gathered Timothy in his arms, taking him to a medical shuttle and laying him down on a bed. Lifting his head, Timothy looked out of the embarkation ramp of the shuttle and gazed out onto the battlefield. He gasped silently. So littered it was by bodies, that the small patches of dirt that still showed under the corpses were deep pools of blood. 

A few minutes later, another Astartes came into the shuttle, also carrying someone. The space marine stepped in and deposited Commissar Yule onto the bed next to Timothy. Yule was in horrible shape, half his body was charred and burned, his face missing skin and flesh in places, and both his eyes were black and shrivelled up. It was amazing he was even alive.

It’s amazing I’m alive, Timothy thought tiredly, setting his head down and slowly closing his eyes as the shuttle took off, flying out of the atmosphere and into the vacuum of space.


----------



## KellysGrenadier (Jul 13, 2008)

Wooow... cool ending. You don't really know if 'falling asleep' means he finally lost consciousness, or if he finally succumbed to death.


----------



## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

Means exactly what i said (err, wrote). He's not gonna die for a while. He will go on to a Kasrkin unit, kick ass for a bit before meeting his gruesome end at the hands of a fugly foe. :biggrin:

But now that you said it, it does add a certain mystery as to his fate


----------



## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

well he's going to end up in a salvage detail, at least thats the plan so far. i'm workin on chapter two right now and it's pretty good if i dont say so myself...of course thats pretty concieted but...that's half the battle isn't it? Enjoying your own work is important as well! Great job and keep up the good work!


----------



## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

nice short story. Think that it was really great.


----------



## Sternguard VETRAN (Apr 29, 2009)

:clapping:


----------



## Sternguard VETRAN (Apr 29, 2009)

:goodpost::clapping:


----------

