# Salamanders Story



## Talonmaster Raptoris (Jul 5, 2008)

This is what I imagine a pre-heresy salamanders campaign would be like. If you read it, post a reply PLEASE!!!:headbutt:



No rest for the wicked, an ancient Terran philosopher had said.
“That is definitely the case with orks” thought Captain Targos Rhall of the Salamander’s 5th company as he surveyed the advancing greenskins through his macro-binoculars. It was nearing dawn, 4:00 a.m. by Terra time but weeks of war had probably left his helm chronometer inaccurate. None the less, it was early for a battle, most of his warriors were in a meditative sleep after a day of preparations for the coming battle.

The pale starlight shone faintly in the sky providing little light for the battle as Celthis IV’s moon was in wane. The light gave the sand dunes a dusky tint of midnight blue. A cool breeze swept through the plain cascading the sand with a soft murmur.
“Such unmolested tranquility, he thought it would be a shame to spill blood this night....”
He pushed these thoughts aside. There was a battle too be won, and if it took the desiccation of one poetic dawn so be it!!! 

“5th company form up and prepare for battle”! He shouted. The result was instantaneous.
With veteran efficiency the company made preparation for the coming battle, checking flamers, cleaning swords and hammers, and reviewing tactics.
“Come on Captain, five more minutes” came a familiar voice . Targos turned around and grinned at Sergeant Promethos.
“Sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep Nethro-Emperor knows you need it- but there’s a greenskin army if you don’t mind” The sergeant gave him a playful elbow and took the binoculars.
He whistled. “That’s gotta be all their remaining numbers” he said a question as much a statement.
“It is” he replied bluntly
“I suppose you asked their warlord for the census data” he mocked. The earlier elbow was returned. When he spoke next his tone was serious.
“Go, prepare Pyrosia squad. We’re going to need them” He nodded and walked off.
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He walked into the command tent and found it empty. Good. He preferred solitude when intoning his wargear. He lifted his flamer, a massive twin linked weapon modeled after his Primarch’s own mighty weapon. After cleaning the firing mechanism and adding a fresh cartridge of napalm, he hefted his hammer. It was forged on Nocturne by his Legion’s master artificers, a sovereign icon of it’s prowess in both craftsmanship and warfare. It was DrakosFire hammer of the fifth company. Meager light brightened the High Gothic inscription translating into:
“Death to the Emperor’s enemies” he read aloud.
“That we shall bring them” He turned. Promethos stood at the entrance
“we’re waiting for you” 
He nodded an went to join the assembled company.

The horde had closed in on them. With his enhanced Astartes senses he could see individuals in the wall of muscle and iron advancing in an undisciplined rabble towards the ranks of Salamanders. Of all the xenos species he’d fought the orks were the easiest to defeat for one simple reason. They never changed tactics. Their only method was to charge rampantly and hope to win with sheer numbers and upper body strength. He was relying on this fact, fo it was key to their victory.

As they approached firing range he shouted:
“Salamanders, steel yourselves for victory is near at hand!! Let us illuminate these abominations! For the Emperor, for Vulkan, Into the fires of battle, Unto the anvil of war! Fire”!!. A defining gale of white hot bolt shells streamed through the air drawing black blood were they impacted . They clambered over their comrades with callous glee howling and shouting like rabid wolves. Then the second volley came. Gusts of chemical flame roared form their flamers immolating dozens in each blast. They kept on coming. Captain Rhaal drew his hammer, bellowed a wordless war cry and swung in a murderous downward arch.
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His first blow smashed into one’s skull, imploding it into gory ruin plastering black blood on his armor. He carried the momentum, he pivoted his left foot, and brought Drakosfire around in a murderous side sweep. It caught one in the ribs cracking them and sending shards of bone into it’s heart. He was an unmovable force at the vanguard of the battle , crushing enemies with each sweep of his hammer.

One large brute stepped out of the fray. He was at least seven feet tall and three feet thick, composed of slabs of undefined muscle and piecemeal leather armor which was comically too small. Nothing however, was funny about the massive cleaver it held, stained with what he hoped was not Astartes blood. 
“For the Emperor” he bellowed charging at the beast hammer raised. It’s beetle black eyes gleamed with feral malevolence as it raised it’s cleaver and swung. He sidestepped the blow and swung at it’s legs trying to knock it off balance. It was surprisingly agile and brought it’s cleaver up and parried the blow. With a deft riposte, it locked the hilt with the sledge and pinned it to the ground his body exposed. With a savage roar, it backhanded him to the ground.

He skidded through the sand coming to a stop meters away. Blood trickled out of the corners of his mouth and grey spots filled his vision. He stood up with no small effort, hands held out for balance. The hulking warlord walked towards him with arrogant idleness, cleaver raised embellishing the kill.

Just as the greenskin was about to strike, he made his move. Lightning fast he dropped to the ground and made a wicked sweep kick. His boot connected with it’s knee, mis-aligning it with a sickening crunch. The beast fell to the ground clutching the swollen limb and bellowing in pain. He grabbed his hammer and with a cry of exertion, crushed the warlord’s spine.

He took a moment to take in the carnage. It was hard to make out his Salamander’s green armor amongst the ork throng, their armor blending in with their adversaries skin pigmentation. Blasts of flame blazed at irregular intervals throughout the combat incinerating ant greenskins that came into their path. The enemy was routed. He could see sergeant Promethos and Pyrosia squad cutting a fiery swath through the remaining enemies. It did not come without cost. Sergeant Gladhras had lost his entire squad and many friends. Promethos had only lost one, to the warlord he had said and he was glad Targos had avenged him. The butchers bill was high but the day was won.


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## Talonmaster Raptoris (Jul 5, 2008)

Dear god.... is nobody posting comments because i'm a junior member??
this sucks.


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## Semaj (Oct 14, 2008)

hey looks good you should definitely continue!


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## CommanderAnthor (Sep 28, 2008)

Excellent man just some grammar but other then that woot!


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## officer kerky (Jun 12, 2008)

continue and i love salamanders so do it for the imperium


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## vacantghost (Feb 16, 2008)

Absolutely love it, you should expand on this. it'll be excellent with your writing style!


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