# Heresy-Online's Expeditious Stories 4: Turning Point



## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Here's how it works:

Each month, there will be a thread posted in the Original Works forum for that month's HOES competition. For those of you interested in entering, read the entry requirements, write a story that fits the chosen theme and post it as a reply to the competition thread by the deadline given.

Once the deadline has passed, a separate voting thread will be posted, where the readers and writers can post their votes for the top three stories. Points will be awarded (3 points for 1st, 2 for 2nd, and 1 for 3rd) for each vote cast, totaled at the closure of the voting window, and a winner will be announced. The winner will have his/her story added to the Winning HOES thread.

*Theme
*
The idea with the theme is that it should serve as the inspiration for your stories rather than a constraint. While creative thinking is most certainly encouraged, the theme should still be relevant to your finished story. The chosen theme can be applied within the WH40K, WHF, HH, and even your own completely original works (though keep in mind, this IS a Warhammer forum) but there will be no bias as to which setting is used for your story.

As far as the theme goes, please feel free with future competitions to contact me with your ideas/proposals, especially given that my creative juices may flow a bit differently than yours. All I ask is that you PM me your ideas rather than posting them into the official competition entry/voting threads to keep posts there relevant to the current competition.

*Word Count*

The official word count for each competition will be 1,000 words. There will be a 10% allowance in this limit, essentially giving you a 900-1,100 word range with which to tell your tale. This is non-negotiable. This is an Expeditious Story competition, not an Epic Story nor an Infinitesimal Story competition. If you are going to go over or under the 900-1,100 word limit, you need to rework your story. It is not fair to the other entrants if one does not abide by the rules. If you cannot, feel free to PM me with what you have and I'll give suggestions or ideas as to how to broaden or shorten your story.

Each entry must have a word count posted with it. Expect a reasonably cordial PM from me (and likely some responses in the competition thread) if you either fail to adhere to this rule. The word count can be annotated either at the beginning or ending of your story, and does not need to include your title.

Without further ado...

The theme for this month's competition is:

*Turning Point*

Entries should be posted in this thread, along with any comments that the readers may want to give (and comments on stories are certainly encouraged in both the competition and voting threads!) 40K, 30K, WHF, and original universes are all permitted (please note, this excludes topics such as Halo, Star Wars, Forgotten Realms, or any other non-original and non-Warhammer settings). Keep in mind, comments are more than welcome! If you catch grammar or spelling errors, the writers are all more than free to edit their piece up until the close of the competition, and that final work will be the one considered for voting. Sharing your thoughts with the writers as they come up with their works is a great way to help us, as a FanFiction community, grow as a whole.

The deadline for entries is Midnight US Eastern Standard Time (-5.00 hours for you UK folks)*Wednesday, 27 April 2011*. Voting will be held from *28 April - 4 May.*

If you have any questions, feel free to either PM me or ask in this thread.

Without further nonsense from me, let the writing begin!


*Table of Contents​*
Andygorn: _Turning Point_
Gothik: _Forever Fallen_
Vulkansnodosaurus: _Art of Massacre_
Stephen_Newman: _The Failure of Brother Victis_
Bane_of_Kings: _Fort Indomitable_
Ckcrawford: _The Last Tower_
Akatsuki13: _The Price of Greed_
Kaiden: _Vengeance Found_


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## Eremite (Aug 27, 2010)

I'm guessing not, but are we allowed to enter things that have already been posted elsewhere online?


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Going to go ahead and say no to this, Eremite. Otherwise I would just sham on topics and do ones that I've already written stories on 

Sorry, bud!


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## Eremite (Aug 27, 2010)

Boc said:


> Going to go ahead and say no to this, Eremite. Otherwise I would just sham on topics and do ones that I've already written stories on
> 
> Sorry, bud!


No worries, I expected as much. Just would've saved time - I've one or two things elsewhere that fit the theme nicely.


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## Doelago (Nov 29, 2009)

Turning point, eh? I have gotten a few ideas...


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## Mossy Toes (Jun 8, 2009)

I may do have an idea. An outgrowth of The One-Eyed King and themes I played on there, which are not often enough emphasized... (and, I must say, our dear Boc covers in a story of his own)


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Slaaneshi pirate hookers?


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Boc said:


> Slaaneshi pirate hookers?


Only if it's richly illustrated...:biggrin:


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## C'Tan Chimera (Aug 16, 2008)

Turning point, huh? That one is gonna be worth reading into- I might take awhile with this one.


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## ckcrawford (Feb 4, 2009)

Sounds good... maybe. Idk... some people will remember to vote. COUGH COUGH. Not mentioning any assholes.


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## BlackGuard (Sep 10, 2010)

I am interested in this, and the topic is not too bad either. I think I will be submitting.


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Excellent, fresh blood for the blood god


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## Stephen_Newman (Jul 14, 2009)

This sounds interesting. May take a while to come up with something.


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

gonna have to really think about this one hmmm


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## Mossy Toes (Jun 8, 2009)

BOc: nah, nah. More like...being on the receiving end of bolters and power-armored fists.


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## andygorn (Apr 1, 2011)

Hi all,
Just throwing this into the mix for the competition (I think this has 1095 words in it?):

_*‘Turning Point’ (a.k.a. ‘ Viasperon’s Story Chapter 15?’)*_

Letting out a shriek of rapture, Lady Diadex exulted as her new wings carried her aloft amongst the razor-sharp spires of Lower East Quarter. With her own natural agility and the in-built computer guidance engines compensating for even the smallest shift in air-currents, her body effortlessly rolled over and dove between the very barrels of the dark lance and disintegrator turrets which studded the starscrapers she owned.
She allowed herself to fall into hubris once again: normally reserved solely for the messenger Scourges, the strong darkjade wings which now bore her upwards had been a truly inspired choice.
Several minutes later, however, her cries of pseudo-ecstasy suddenly turned into shrieks of protest, as several muscles in her left wing spasmed and then stilled against her will. Managing to sufficiently slow the resulting spin, she still crashed into the building’s side before sliding along it’s wall and down into whichever fate had been ordained for her.
-

“Well, is it done?” the shadowy figure of Archduke Viallis Acheron asked. Although he tried to hide it, the timbre of his voice still betrayed his urgency to see the deed done and his rival destroyed.
“What you have asked for has been seen to conclusion, my Lord” came Viasperon’s careful reply.
“Is she dead then, damn you?!”
Checking his bracelet communicator, he replied: “My sensor shows no life forms. I feel absolutely _no_ urgings to go and see for myself but...if the price is right...I am sure I have a few suitably inquisitive –and expendable- minions amongst my Kabal who can make those enquiries for you..?”

“_Your_ Kabal..?!”! His employer laughed loudly but heartlessly. “It’s a joke! A relic from the past: a time where the most amusement my witless ancestors could invent to while away the decades was to see beasts kill each other in the arenas. It was also the time when the only thing that your equally clueless antecedents could do was pander to their every whim and click-of-the-fingers. The only difference now is that my predecessors grew children who knew how to _better_ themselves.”

Viasperon visibly bristled under the inflammatory comparisons and Archduke Acheron chuckled in response, seeing that he had drawn a foolhardy reaction from his usually incredibly calm accomplice. “Your Kabal lacks both numbers and power: it’s huge influence from a bygone age is now no longer of any use in these modern times.”
Although it was well-known that the more powerful Archon’s idea of ‘modern times’ was vague and could cover any point in time over approximately the last three hundred years, Viasperon had to nod his head in agreement, casting his gaze back down to the floor in shame.

Seeing yet another admittance of weakness, Acheron added: “Even the _things_ your Kabal has always provided for the Wych-glades are lesser than they used to be: our shackled Craftworld cousins are too tied up in their misery to claim the stars like we once did when we were a single race; your alleged ‘ravenous animals’ and ‘lethal predators’ seem almost toothless by today’s standards. As for the Mon-Keigh..! Even those so-called “Eldar-Killers” are slower and more stupid than I recall!”

“No, I think ‘_Your Kabal_’ is in the last throes of life, thrashing around in blind panic as it finally succumbs. You show some skill –and I’m sure that you have others who are similarly valuable- but you all could be so much more...”
_That_ thought Viasperon _was the sucker-punch. It has all led up to this ‘offer’, or perhaps ultimatum would be a more exact word for it._ Most of his life had been an unsaid choice of ‘Accept, or pay the consequences.’ But to hear it applied so blatantly was a complete affront to his sensibilities and also a measure of how far he had fallen.

Uncharacteristically incautious with his response...perhaps due to the constant baiting... he retorted: “If I accept your generous offer Viallis, what’s in it for me? New quarters ? A puppet’s throne ‘to call my very own’, maybe? Perhaps even a few days and nights alone with your fourth wife in one of your mating-chambers..?”
Viasperon’s enquiry was cut short as Archduke Acheron’s left fist connected against his jaw with a loud _crack_, sending him sprawling and skidding across the skin-smooth floor; the spikes of his pale blue lacquered armour scoring deep gouges in the pale pink varnish.

Acheron stalked after his victim, his clenched fists shaking with barely-suppressed fury:
“I care little for Lucrezia’s attentions -as little, in fact, as she does mine- and we may both even _relish_ a change in her companion. But, even in private, how *dare* you use my first name as though we are equals?! 
“I have had _whole squads_ of enemies flayed alive even for looking at my armour! You imagine yourself my equal?! You hold the same title as I, but there are _chasms_ between us in terms of power and skill!” Acheron’s shouting ceased abruptly as the veneer of calm returned, only just masking the ‘rage-beneath-the-surface’ for which he was renowned and he whispered menacingly: “Perhaps you wish for a test of these, yes..?”

Seeing a reply of revenge -no matter how futile- beginning to smoulder in Viasperon’s eyes as the other man struggled to regain his footing, Acheron turned away from him, adding simply:
“Then I will not indulge your desire; each thing I give you must be earnt. Every time I do something for someone, it gives them power over me and I will not allow anyone that pleasure, let alone yourself.
“My Kabal would crush yours if I turned my..._attentions_...upon it. Indeed, there are several amongst my Captains who already strain at their leashes, yearning to do just that. Imagine it, Viasperon, the destruction of an entire Kabal...Not for reward, or for favour, but solely just to see the expression upon my face. Although it pains me to do so, I yet rein them in, beating down upon their malcontent in favour of a longer-term view for both of us.”

Unable to prevent his mind wandering yet again as it frolicked amongst thoughts of devising new and intriguing punishments and tortures, Archduke Acheron failed to notice the click that came from the recording device hidden inside Viasperon’s communicator. A triple-flash of two green lights told him that she had heard the entire conversation and agreed to his alliance.
Soon to be caught between at least three Kabals whose desires finally intersected (at the same time for a change), the Archduke’s days were numbered and it was now only a matter of time.


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

forever fallen

I am lost.

There is no other word for it.

Once I had faith and sword, armour blessed in the fires of the battle and a love for the emperor but now, now I have nothing but hate and loathing for that which I followed so blindly.

It was on the world of Wolfs Lair a piss ant world in the back of beyond, it could have been a foot note on some adept of the administratum file had it not been for the fact it was a world relevant to my sisters.

A world where centuries before a whole battle squad died defending the ungrateful scum of a populace from the demons that came from the warp and devoured their souls like a sweet delicacy. 

When I read of their sacrifice for the ungrateful hierarchy of that world I wept for the uselessness of it all. We ask for nothing but a thank you for their deaths protecting them would have been nice and all we got was a begrudging thanks.

I wonder if they would have been so ungrateful if it had been our brothers in the Adeptus Astartes that had saved their sorry asses.

We returned there less then a century later when the Imperial Guard regiment of the Catachans requested help. We were in system returning from another battle when the call came in and our sister superior, not wanting brother and sister warriors to be alone diverted us towards Wolfs Lair.

The populace had once again become enslaved to the will of chaos. Their government had fallen and the pitiful wretches had over thrown their allegiance to the god-emperor and as I cut the heretics down screaming the words of my faith at them I stopped.

I am not sure why I stopped but as I stood there watching heretic kill sister and soldier alike, sister and soldier butchering heretic I began to wonder what it was all for.

We would retake this world but what for? In another three generations it would happen again. The snivelling wretches that lived here would spew their ungrateful stomach churning, bile rising platitudes and then covert the darkness once more.

Everything seemed to become slowed around me, I was moving in real time but everything else was slowed down and as I watched, puzzled by what was going on a figure moved towards me.

She wore the armour of a sister of battle but it was corrupted in ways that I had no way of knowing where to even begin. Her sword seemed to writhe of its own elusion, a blood thirsting mind that begged to be released upon the fighting throng and spill blood in the name of a god that lived for god.


She stood before me, her hair wild and free like writing snakes, her eyes glowing with the light of the warp. She moved her head to one side as if sizing me up to see if I would accept what she had to say or if she would decide I was to die.

Either way I was ready.

“Sister Katherine” She began and bowed her head “I am Sister Valeria”

Valeria? That was impossible, she had been a sergeant with the sisters who had died a century ago. The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end. 

For some reason I tried to remember the prayers and litanies that had been my shield and my faith since my childhood those words that would comfort me as an orphan child in the orphanage on Ophelia. 

None would come to me; none would enter my mind all I could see was my former battle sister, a name revered in our order, as one who died for our most Holy Father enacting his will.

Instead I was frozen to the spot my sword and bolter in hand unable to move. She looked – alluring. The fires of faith, seduction, and sex rolled into one femme fatale. I shook my head trying to dispel the shade before me. 

“Sister Katherine” Her voice like honeyed silk poured over the finest sweets “I come to make an offer to one who has fought bravely for the god-emperor. I come to offer you a seat at the true masters side”

“You are not real”

“Oh I am real alright, I am the small voice in your head that tells you that these ungrateful maggots will watch you all die for them and return to the state that they have enjoyed.

They allow you and your brothers and sisters to die for them and for what? To start the cycle again”

“You lie Sister Valeria is dead you are an image sent by the false gods”

My bravado was false the bluster in my voice nothing but a joke, she was correct. I had tired of being at the beck and call of these people. I was tired of loosing my sisters to ungrateful bureaucrats who sat back on their laurels and let others die for them.

I was tired of returning to this rock and for what? Had it been anyone else they would have been cycloned bombed to hell but the Mechanicum loved the ores that came from the core of this blighted rock.

“Let me give you the path for you and your squad” That smooth silken voice cooed “Let me show you the way it could be, no more serving the idle cowards who do not deserve the devotion of the brave sqaud you belong to.”

My eyes closed, my heart sang to the thought of fresh battles but ones that would be rewarded. My Bolter raised and I fired into the face of my Sister Superior and in my head rang the laughter of a thirsting god.

I am forever fallen.

Word count: 949


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## VulkansNodosaurus (Dec 3, 2010)

Not being a general, my grasp of military strategy is almost nonexistent. As such, I apologize for any tactical errors I've made.
Nevertheless:
*Art of Massacre
VulkansNodosaurus
1089 words
Heresy Online Expeditious Stories Contest 4: Turning Point​* “No.”

Captain Phaeton of the Blood Angels looked at the man with interest. Few normal humans could work up the courage to refuse an Astartes, and even fewer loyal humans could.

“Colonel Hebre, my men will proceed with this plan regardless. We can and will drive the Orks back. Your cowardice is… interesting.”

“Captain Phaeton, with all due respect, I cannot see how we can defend the Vostroyan position. They knew that they would be doomed when they came there, and most likely they’ve all died already. Meanwhile, Agrila Hive can and will hold.”

“Yet if we do connect with the Vostroyans, we will have the xenos isolated. Their nature will cause them to try and break out, but in the wasteland we will have every advantage. Even their spores won’t be able to spawn on ice.”

“If we connect with them. I have not seen the Astartes on the battlefield before, and I believe you might be able to break through- but no communications have been received from them for days. Despite this, I trust your tactical judgment. The Seventh Hultanian will join you.”

Phaeton grinned, an odd Astarte grin that was sometimes used as an intimidation tactic.

“That is all I wanted.”
* * *
Gatlaen Thareglon was mildly upset that he had not been there to see the acceptance of his plan. He was, of course, a Dreadnought- the only Ancient of the Unconquerable Seventh Company- and issues would arise with space available, but he would have preferred to see his plan transformed into possibility.

No matter. He would see it transformed into reality.

The Company was around him, moving through the Lit Isthmus, the hilly area where the Ork encampment was situated. Two squads, backed up by thousands of human soldiers, were guarding the end of the isthmus near the town; the rest was with Gatlaen now, advancing on its right side to link up with the Vostroyans before surrounding the Orks.

It was an elementary plan. The Orks always thirsted for a battle, and they would certainly attack the advancing Blood Angels and Hultanians. For this reason, a number of Hultanians had been sent to distract the enemy, harassing them and possibly sacrificing themselves. The bulk, though, was now climbing above the site of battle and towards the tired Vostroyans.

The elegance of it pleased Gatlaen. Even if the Vostroyans weren’t precisely at the expected position, a few brush strokes could fix the issue.

“Flags!”

Indeed, there were flags. Over a small hill, two banners- though torn- defiantly waved. They were red, a starred bear shining on them- they were Vostroyan.

They were a lot closer than Gatlaen had expected, but the blur was even more pleasing like this.

Murmurs were heard ahead as Phaeton and the Hultanian commander conversed with what was left of the Vostroyan leadership. As Thareglon crested the hill, he could see the ruins nearby that much more clearly. Indeed, there was even ash directly below him.

“Yes,” Phaeton was saying, “they will return soon. Hebre’s recalled his infiltrators. Still, we’ll be ready.”

“They’re already at the main camp, I would guess!” Gatlaen didn’t recognize that voice, which meant it was from a Vostroyan.

“We are ready.”
* * *
Jul Harkov shot at it without success. The monstrous xeno seemed to be rushing directly at him, only at him, having singled him out from the battle-line for whatever reason.

At the last possible moment, it missed Jul and rammed into the soldiers to his left. A quick glance confirmed its death among the massed fire suddenly pointed at it.

Jul cared little; it had turned out not to be a threat to him in the end, unlike virtually every other Ork.

The line would not, could not hold. It had taken days, but heart by heart the Vostroyans had been cut in three. There was little hope, and any routes of retreat seemed cut off as well. The best choice was probably to die taking as many Orks as possible with them.

Then, the cry rang out.

“We are the sons of Sanguinius!”

“We are the Angels of Death!” echoed several others.

The battle-cry came from their left, where the secondary camp had once stood. Momentarily turning himself around, Jul saw the red armor flash in the sunlight as the full immensity of what was happening impressed itself.

“Reinforcements. Astarte reinforcements.”

“Forward!”

And the Space Marines flew forward.

They didn’t fly, actually, not all of them. They simply rushed into battle. A Dreadnought was among the first into the stunned Orks, tearing them apart with giant claws. Las-shots rang again, the regiment motivated to fight by the renewal of hope.

It was a bloodbath. The Ork charge would peter out soon, Jul knew- they simply could not keep the momentum in defeat. Lasguns and bolters created a din, in which the Marines didn’t even move into close combat. They didn’t need to.

The biggest Orks shouted something, several running away and several forwards. Both were mowed down by volley after volley.

Then, the mass wavered- and ran.

The Astartes dashed in pursuit, picking off the xenos individually. The battle had become a massacre.

Jul was very grateful for it.
* * *
Captain Phaeton saw the Warboss at a distance. It had been hanging back from the battle, likely preparing for just such an eventuality. That wouldn’t save it- the Warboss was just too big.

Firing his jump-pack, Phaeton leapt towards the xeno. It was not too far away, and best of all had still not noticed him.

That advantage, Phaeton would be glad to surrender.

“The Emperor frowns on you!” he called out.

It pivoted, eyes stupidly searching for the irritation’s cause. Growling, it finally located Phaeton.

“And so do I!”

The Captain lifted the pike, pointing it towards the Warboss. Its Orkish instincts gave it no chance to escape- it had to fight, and now. Again it ran forward, mouth furiously screaming nonsense, ears grotesquely waving around, eyes unblinking in their mindless stare.

The Warboss swung its weapon- a crude, but huge, axe- down, colliding with the Captain’s pike. Phaeton’s weapon shuddered under the impact’s strength, even as Phaeton drove it forth.

The monster didn’t cry in pain, only swinging its axe again. Phaeton dropped back, letting go of the power-pike before grabbing it again after the axe had swung by harmlessly.

The Warboss grunted in pain as Phaeton again lifted the pike and again struck it. It would take many impacts for the thing to die, but soon it would.

Then, the war could continue.


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## Stephen_Newman (Jul 14, 2009)

Here is my reply. Weighing in at 1,031 words. Including the title.

The Failure of Brother Victis

“ I am brother Victis. My last failure caused the death of 200 battle brothers and I tell this story so that you shall avoid the same fate.”

_I was operating as a scout unit under the command of sergeant Plabius, who was trained under Telion himself, and it was our duty to protect an armoured column from attack from the Eldar who were known to be attacking that world at the time. The forces of Farseer Calvyn’eia were highly mobile and travelling in single column meant they were vulnerable to attack.

Plabius positioned ourselves facing over a great cliff with a great forest behind us which provided such a good amount of cover the other squads could not see us. The column proceeded well and then Plabius spotted trouble, a pair of Wave Serpents was streaming ahead of a small Eldar fleet in what we presumed was a pre-emptive strike. The serpents landed nearby, completely oblivious to our position, and unloaded their troops. A bright squad of fire dragons and another containing a seer council left the craft whilst they provided suppressing fire onto the column. Plabius held his hand up._ “all units fire at the dragons on my signal. They must not approach the column!”_ After waiting for a couple of moments for our prey to speed across the ground we fired upon them. Our first couple of sniper rifle shots hit the dragons. Mine glanced of the armour plate of one whilst I could see Plabius’s hit another who strayed in front of the exarch through an eyehole and collapse dead. With the deaths of at least 2 more of their kin they scattered for cover and were soon out of sight for our guns. However we saw a better target. The Seer Council turned out to house the mastermind himself, Farseer Calvyn’eia, the target was too good to pass up and we aimed at the unit as they watched over the hill as other units prepared to move closer. Plabius at once began to bark orders _“On my mark fire at the alien scum on top of that hill!” _and we opened fire. However our shots dissipated upon forcefields and the Farseer looked exactly at our position. I felt extremely naked, like our position was open to the entire Eldar host and that doom would only be imminent for us, Plabius however could only care less and wondered why only myself and him had fired upon the target. 

Looking behind him were the bloodied remains of the other 3 members of our unit. Each had taken a bullet to the head and their deaths were completely silent to us. Plabius blanched, and then ordered the retreat away from our position to hunt anew.
However our predators would not let us escape so easily and Plabius knew this so we spoke no sound and left no trace of where we went. We were almost silent that even the greatest scouts in the galaxy would struggle to find us, or so we thought. Plabius signalled silently to duck behind the next tree trunk. Following my sergeant he whispered_ “No scum on this Earth could follow us that well. We shall move to a new position and have another strike against the Farseer. They will never find us as easily again.” _He stood up and prepared to move off.

And then his head exploded.

I stayed down, terrified, I know that Space Marines should never show fear and never step down in a fight but I was scared that our enemies knew where we were so well that they could even predict our movements.

So like a scared child I fled. What saved my life from experiencing the same fate was discarding my grenades to act as cover. I guess my assailants had to stay back for fear of hitting one of them._

Meanwhile the pathfinder, Derkas Silverblade, sat watching the fledgling scout flee and cast his grenades behind him. He raised his rifle when a thought burst into his head.

_“Derkas. Is the way now secure for our forces to launch their attack on the Mon-Keigh?”

“Yes most exalted Farseer.”_

He sat his rifle down again realising that there would be more targets to hunt on the Mon-Keigh column behind him. After all the position those Scouts held would be ideal for him and his fellows...

_What I never saw was that the failure of me to hold my nerve and redeem the deaths of my brother scouts caused the deaths of everyone in that entire column. Fire Dragons raced from transport to transport, melting each one into a pile of molten slag before moving on. Fire Prisms darted from the trees to fire shots off at the bigger war machines to keep them preoccupied. Dark Reapers stood on the hills pouring fire from Reaper Launchers to suppress those who managed to escape from the inferno of their transports. Those that dug in cover were finished off by a frontal charge led by Harlequins and an Avatar of Khaine. The Harlequins dancing and weaving through the fight as they effortlessly finished off marines with casual flicks and the occasional punch of a harlequin kiss whilst the Avatar smashed apart terminators and veterans aside with huge sweeps of his flaming sword._

The Farseer, Calvyn’eia, smiled though his ghosthelm at the slaughter of the Mon-Keigh around him. Seeing these stupid pigs off the face of their maiden world would continue the prospering of the once great Eldar empire. But until the day for it to expand arrived then its pieces would need to be maintained.

_When I arrived back at the chapter monastery my Chaplains rained words soaked in the cup of abuse at me for my failure to defend my battle brothers and the honour lost by not avenging those slain. The loss of my single Scout squad, they proclaimed, had caused the battle for the maiden world to turn against our forces and that the Eldar would now win._ 

“And that is my story. As I stand here, chained to this machine, for my sins I hope that you shall never flee in cowardice.”


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## Bane_of_Kings (Oct 28, 2009)

Okay, so here's my entry. Apologies that it's 96 words over, but most people have gone over the 1000 word boundry. So, I'm going to quit complaning and present you with _Fort Indomitable_, an Imperial Guard Short Story.

*Fort Indomitable*
_1096 words_

Guardsman Lenxax trained his lasgun at the oncoming army of metallic machines, covering the mountain path so there would be no getting through it. He picked out target after target in the grey crowd, making sure that his first shot of the battle would not be a wasted one. Other guardsmen, stationed on the fortress wall like him, were also doing the same thing, picking their own targets, as though it was like training back at Corvus III, his home and the home of all of the men around him.

Except one. Walking down the small gap that stood behind Lenxax, was the man who had served with the regiment since its foundation, the elderly ‘lifer’ named Reaon Markus, the Commissar from the world of Armageddon. He wore a gas mask like his old Regiment, although it was no longer needed as the Corvus 132nd had never been to Armageddon.

The Commissar told the men that he wore it to remind himself of all the men that were dying back on his homeworld, and how that the Guardsmen who he was fighting alongside might one day be as brave as them.

Lenxax found it hard to understand the man, as for the Private had never fought for his homeworld, never been dragged away from it to join another regiment, but the fact that he fought for the Emperor was enough.

Several shouts were heard from behind Lenxax, and he knew what they were going to do. Moments later, the Guardsman’s suspicions were confirmed as several shells fired from artillery soared overhead him, seeking out the packed xenos ranks in front of him. 

There was a devastating blow, and the artillery confirmed the first kill of the day, blasting metallic aliens into smithereens before Lenxax’s eyes. 

“Men of the Imperium!” bellowed Commissar Markus, standing directly behind Lenxax, his bolt pistol ready in hand in case the guardsmen nearby him showed any signs of desertion. As he spoke, his voice was amplified around the fortress ground, so every guardsman inside would hear the words of encouragement. “You have fought these xenos before, and have beaten them! You know their tactics, and you know every strategy that they have pulled. They will show no mercy, no forgiveness. But neither will we. I don’t expect any of you to abandon your posts today, even if the enemy has all but overwhelmed us. I want you all to keep fighting until there is nothing left to kill. With your weapons, with faith.”

The Commissar paused for a dramatic effect, as the artillery continued firing. "The Emperor Protects!”

Every voice inside the fortress replied as one, bellowing one, loud warcry which filtered across the defences of the Imperial Guard. Suddenly, as the aliens advanced eerily, a loud voice filtered through the loudspeakers, a voice which was defiantly not from the Regimental Commissar.

_“It is foolish to give your warriors false hope, as they do not realise the doom that is coming to them. Your last bastion is surrounded by my legions, and you have no hope of escaping what lies in store. We claim dominance over this world, mortals. You will fall in this battle, and faith in your emperor will not protect you.”_

Almost a split-second later, the enemy opened fire, and several, eerie green shots headed towards the defenders of the Imperium, in perfect coherence, and Lenxax ducked to avoid a shot that passed just above his head. Instantly, he was back on his feet, and waiting for orders, the taunt of the xenos filling his ears.

Another second later, the Commissar was up, his weapon pointed at the oncoming ranks, “Fire at will! Leave no prisoners! In the Emperor’s Name!”

In response to the alien fire, several lasgun shots splintered across no-man’s land, fired in unison by their owners as they headed towards the xenos that awaited them. Lenxax couldn’t tell whether his shot was accurate or not, but by the Emperor, he hoped that it had brought down one.

The battle was well and truly underway, The Guardsman thought with a frown.

++

When the gate was finally breached, a whole two days after the fighting for Fort Indomitable had first began; it shattered with a tremendous roar, killing a large chunk of Imperial Guardsmen who stood nearby and on the surrounding walls, giving a large, gaping hole in the Imperium’s ranks. 

The Necrons had soon exploited the weakness with ease, and had quickly gained a foothold in the almighty fortress, as the Guardsmen struggled to hold ranks, any tanks they sent against the xenos destroyed by the aliens own anti-vehicle weaponry. 

It was dawn on the third day when Commissar Markus finally sounded the retreat, ordering all Guardsmen to pull back from the walls of the fort, for they were well and truly taken, along with most of the first layer.

The Second layer, and also the last layer, would have to do. “Fall back!” Colonel Obadiah yelled, positioned on top of his Command Salamander from where he could easily issue orders to troops. “To the second layer, we will hold them off there!”

In normal circumstances, Commissar Markus would have executed the Colonel there and then, but he needed every round that he and his troops would get, as well as every man – so the man from Armageddon decided that executing the commander of the Corvus 155th would have to wait until after the battle.

If there was an aftermath. The inspiring speech at the start had done little to keep the spirits of the knackered guardsmen high, and it was indeed a miracle that they had held out for this long.

From the ground, Markus looked up as the troops were gunned down by wicked Necron weaponry. _‘This is no way to die,’_ Markus thought with a frown, dodging a green bolt that came in his direction. _‘But at least they are dying for the Emperor.’_

Suddenly there was a cheer from the Imperial lines, a soldier had his hand pointed skywards. When Markus looked up, his whole body was filled with relief. Wiping a sweat from his brow, the Commissar announced to the gathered guardsmen. He punched his fist in the air, and added his shouts to the rest of the troops; for drop pods, bearing the dark blue colours of the Ultramarines Chapter descended planetside, to bring aid to the beleaguered forces of the Imperial Guard. 

Elsewhere, Colonel Obadiah had one thought on his mind, as he added fire to those of his subordinates, that this was the Turning Point of the battle.


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Bane_of_Kings said:


> Okay, so here's my entry. Apologies that it's 96 words over, but most people have gone over the 1000 word boundry.


The limits are actually 900-1100, it was 1000 +/- 10%, so you're good!


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## Bane_of_Kings (Oct 28, 2009)

ah, cool .


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## ckcrawford (Feb 4, 2009)

*The Last Tower*​
Word Count 1098

Extract from the pages of an old Terrain book… _What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?_ 

Deep Down in the Galactic South of the Imperium, lay the lost and most beautiful worlds of the Imperium. “The Four Titan Worlds”, as so they were called. The first world, “Oceanus” the planet with beautiful oceans. Of all the oceans in the world, these oceans were the most beautiful. The depths and mysteries underneath them all but known. The second, “Cronus” a planet that was known for its fine and gentle forests. The third, “Helious” which bore the biggest mountains in the galaxy. And the fourth, Phoebe, the planet that was most like old Terra yet received the least light of the four due to the distance to the Sun and Moons that it had around it. Some called it, “The Planet of Darkness.”

Each world had been colonized very minimally due to the size of these planets. Each over four times the size of Terra. After they were found by the Imperium, the Emperor had declared these worlds restricted. To be kept as jewels of the Imperium after the Crusade. Untainted and untouched by the warring races of the galaxy, they were admired by the High Lords of Terra. 

In doing so, after the Second Founding, four of the most beautiful towers were created along with four of the most successful second founding chapters given the responsibility of guarding these worlds. 

After a while, expeditions to these worlds had stopped and their beauty forgotten. Instead each chapter was given command of Imperial Guard Regiments, and many other resources to start extracting the natural resources each world had. The only difference was that each world had its own abundance of particular resource. Knowing that whatever chapter owned this sector, they would have the power to rule the entire Galactic South. As such, every Chapter Master refused to start sucking their planet of their resources. Stating they were protecting these jewels as directly ordered by the Emperor before the Heresy.

Only one obeyed the new administration’s command.

----------

“Burn all of them down!”

The Chapter Master looked upon the Planet of Cronus from his ship as he barked out the order.

“A lesson to all those to employ hit and run tactics and think they can disgrace me. Now, we watch them burn.”

The crew looked at the targets. Guilt stuck in their throats chocking them. But it needed to be done. It had been thousands of years. Their fathers, and grandfathers had fought over this planet. Now they would give them the respect they deserved. And they would bring the Imperium the rightful Chapter to rule this sector. 

The Sons of Darkness. The Chapter that had been created to rule “The Planet of Darkness,” had benefited in being the farthest planet away from the three. And the enemy Imperial Guard Regiments had been devastated with the constant night fighting. So dark was the planet that unless you lived on it, you could not employ any strategy. Even with the three Chapters and regiments of the planets fighting against one, they were still massacred, as whole regiments disappeared without a trace. After three weeks, the three chapters had retreated from the Planet of Darkness with 75% casualties. 

“Are you alright Chapter Master Syrian?”

Quintus, the Chapter Master’s first Captain had seen him walk away from the scene unnoticed by the rest of the crew.

“Yes Quintus. Its hard to see such a world turn to ash. To see my brothers who defended these worlds annihilated. But we follow the direct orders of the Imperium. “

Quintus looked at his broken Chapter Master. They had lived longer than most Astartes, fighting together against the Green Skin, Tyranids, and renegades pirates that went all over the galaxy to steel resources from planets. Now he was now in the progress of destroying this brotherhood.

“What of the Tower my lord. What shall we do about the survivors in Cronus’ Tower? “

Syrian started walking away and then paused for a moment in the shadows.

“Purge the traitors. A traitor is a traitor, no matter what kind of bond we have.”

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

A century before had seen the fall of Oceanus. With the traitors in full retreat and fully devastated, the Sons of Darkness killed every living thing on the planet’s surface. Syrian had seen the faces of his brothers as they returned from killing their former brothers. The look in their eye’s as though their souls had been pulled from them. And the beautiful Tower of Oceanus had artillery shells barged into it until its existence had been a mystery to the world. But Syrian had seen none of the destruction. He did not want to.

Now they had arrived to their hardest compliance… Helious. It would take everything in Syrian’s power to take down this world’s power. And he would personally have to lead the assault.


The Sons of Darkness were facing as much a disadvantage as the three chapters that attacked the Planet of Darkness. The only difference… they were the darkness. 

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

The Imperial Guard Regiments had surrounded the Tower of Helious. It had been built deep within its mountains, and virtually made it impregnable.

The final assault required precision. As the Sons of Darkness dropped down on the fortified tower, they would need the Imperial Guard to bombard the inside of the fortress right before they landed.

As the Imperial Tanks bombarded, it became disastrous as several of the pods were destroyed in mid air. But it didn’t matter; they had gotten most of the Chapter inside the fortress. The tanks had stopped the siege, and the real slaughter had begun.

Limbs had been torn apart as the traitors were easily swept aside. And Syrian chased Helious’ Chapter Master up the Tower. 

“Why Syrian?”

The Chapter Master of Helious threw down his sword, accepting his fate.

“I have obeyed the Imperium, and the Emperor. I have done it all in his glory.”

The Chapter Master dragged something from his holster. Quick as he was, Syrian drew his blade upwards through his stomach.

The Chapter Master fell down. As he looked at what the proud astartes was about to draw to him. He dropped his sword as his hands trembled to what he had come upon.

The Flag of the Four Towers. A lost artifact that was given by the Emperor to them but lost until now.

“What have I done?”

Like the Towers, now there was only one. He whispered again.

“What have I done.....?”


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

And bump! Sorry I've been busy as hell, I'll get mine done up soon, great stories so far


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## Akatsuki13 (May 9, 2010)

Hey, I got a story to submit but it's just over the 1,100 word limit at 1,125 words. Is it okay to submit it even though it's a little over?


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## Mossy Toes (Jun 8, 2009)

I'd say that this isn't a "do I qualify or not" situation--it's more of a "can I make this fit?" situation. I'll see if I can't dig up an old post I made on the subject. Aha, here it is, with a few small tweaks to make it applicable to this rather than the BL open submissions window:



Mossy Toes said:


> Trying to hold yourself to the wordcount is good. If you reread [the story], compress and condense overly loopy phrases and sentences, remove unnecessary adjectives, and/or whatever, it should end up pressurized and jumping off the page for the reader--as well as within the proscribed wordcount, giving [voters] one less reason to get irritated at the submission at all. ...
> 
> Edit: I don't mean to advocate dryness and starkly simple prose, by any means. I just mean that by cutting out circular phrases, being more conscious of word choice, and really looking to convey the most powerful image as swiftly as possible makes the story better than simply writing and sending it away. Don't rewrite for the sake of having shorter sentences or simpler clauses. Rewrite to let the message sing uncluttered by more words than necessary.


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## Akatsuki13 (May 9, 2010)

Took a bit of playing around but I've managed to get it to 1,100 words. And pretty happy with.

Title: The Price of Greed
Word Count: 1,100

“Sons of Wissenland! Onward to victory and home! For the Countess and Sigmar!” General Hans Volkmann yelled, thrusting his sword into the air.

Men clad in grey and white roared as they surged forward into the ranks of their enemy, hacking and slashing at their enemies. Thunderous bangs filled the air as lines of handgunners let loose a volley from their rifles, striking down dozens. However some did not stay down, their rotting corpses rising once more from the sand. A warrior-priest charged into the fray, his hammers smashing open the skulls of the undead as he shouted out benedictions to Sigmar. The line of walking dead began to collapse under their powerful assault, earning a smirk from the mounted General. It wouldn’t be long now until the undead were returned to the embrace of Morr and they’d free of this accursed desert with all the treasures they had found within the tombs. Sure a few dozen men lost their lives to various traps but it was a small price for all the gold and jewels they could carry out. With all they had gathered and despite the expenses, Volkmann was going to be living like a king for the rest of his life.

Once they returned to Wissenland of course.

The undead line continued to falter especially along their right flank where a number of Greatswords were tearing through their ranks. A cavalry charge along that flank would cut through the undead and finish them off. “Alright men! Charge!” Volkmann ordered, urging his horse forward as several dozen mounted soldiers followed.

Their charge sliced the legions of zombies like a hot knife through butter. Most of the shambling corpses were slow to counter their attack, trampled under hooves or struck down by lance and bullet. It was then that the undead began to crumble, falling lifelessly to the ground. Only a few dozen remained standing amid the countless bodies. Men let out cheers of triumph as their enemy collapsed. “Victory!” Volkmann shouted with his men.

But it was not to be…

Just as quickly as they had fallen, hundreds of bodies rose from the sands below. Some recently slain soldiers while others were but bones from ancient battles. The sudden surge of undead caught the men of the Empire off guard. A pack of rotting corpses ripped apart a detachment of handgunners. Fallen soldiers rose up again, hacking and slashing at their living comrades. A knight was dragged from his horse by zombies and skeletons, screaming as they began devouring him. The army was now faltering against the resurgent undead.

“Fear not brothers!” the warrior-priest shouted. “These abominations cannot stand against our might or the might of Sig-”

Before the bald man could finish a black figure descended on him and instant later his head went flying, a pale-faced vampire standing over his body. The sight of the priest’s death at the hands of soulless monster sent men running.
“Stand your ground!” Volkmann shouted, trying to rally his men for a counterattack. “By Sigmar, fight or we’ll never see home again!”

With inhuman speed the Vampire Lord attacked, throwing the man from his horse. “I offer you this one chance mortal, hand over all the treasures you have gathered or die,” the vampire said as blood dripped from the sword in his hand.

“Never abomination!” Volkmann spat as he pulled himself up to his feet. “These treasures are not yours! They belong to us!”

Then it happened.

Seemingly out of nowhere an immense sandstorm engulfed the two armies. So great was it that few could see beyond half a dozen yards ahead of them. However both Volkmann and Kreiger found themselves standing amid the eye of the storm and able see things more clearly.

_“Intruders… Thieves… Violators…”_ a rasping voice called out from the howling storm. _“You dare defile our blessed lands your tainted footsteps… You dare steal our sacred treasures from our tombs and cities… You dare believe that you hold dominion over our realm… You shall be punished for your transgressions…”_

The ground exploded a short distance behind the General, throwing sand and men into the air. To the horror of Volkmann, monstrous snakemen armed with massive halberds and gigantic scorpions had emerged from beneath the sands tearing through his soldiers with blade and claw. Men screamed and scattered, some bravely trying to fight back while others disappeared into the raging sandstorm. Swarms of scarabs, scorpions and desert snakes rose from the desert, overwhelming those that weren’t being cut by the moving statues.

“By Sigmar...” Volkmann uttered, making the sign of the Hammer.

_“Your feeble man-god has no power here mortal…”_

At that moment, a great stone cat appeared from the howling sands breathing out fire as it raced into the ranks of undead. Atop the construct of jade and gold was a howdah carrying skeletons wearing ornate armor and wrapped in old bandages. With great spears of wood and bronze, they cut down scores of walking corpse beneath. But emerging in the wake of the sphinx were dozens of chariots pulled by skeletal horses and manned by more skeletons, striking with spear and bow.

The vampire spat out a curse as the undead riders tore through its legions. He raised a hand at the sphinx, dark magic crackling around it. But then the magic suddenly faded from his fingers, alarming the vampire.

_“Nor do you blasphemies have power here Lahmian…”_

From within the swirling sand countless shapes began to appear as they crept closer and closer. Legions of skeletal warriors carrying shields and bronze weapons emerged. Towering over them were beings with animal skulls for heads and massive blades in their hands. And standing at the head of this terrible army was its leader. It had been a living man once. Now it was a dead, dried out husk of a man. Much of its embalmed body was covered in bandages, save for his hands, feet and head. He wore an ornate breastplate of gold and deep blue and a leather kilt beneath it. A diadem topped with a skull-faced cobra rested on the corpse’s withered scalp. And in its boney fingers was a mighty halberd with a wicked bronze blade. But as glorious and radiant as the armor and weapon were, it’s almost skeletal face and the ghostly lights emanating from its empty eye sockets were terrifying to behold.

“For this is Nehekhara,” the risen King proclaimed, thrusting his halberd forward into the air. “Where your greed has rewarded you all with death.”

As one the legions of the king advanced on the outnumbered survivors.


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## Mossy Toes (Jun 8, 2009)

Remember, folks, only 4 more days! All of you had better get your stories in, just like my own-

Wait a second...


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Aye, 4 more days! I'm a slacker as well, haven't even done a word yet haha.

If, however, I get several interested people requesting to extend the deadline in honour of the Easter Holiday (though that should give you more time to write!) I'd be willing to add a day or two.


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Okay, due to the holiday weekend, I have extended the deadline for *THREE DAYS* until *WEDNESDAY, 27 APRIL.*

This means that voting will be held from *THURSDAY 28 APRIL* until *WEDNESDAY 4 MAY.*

So to those of us that are slacking... get writing!


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## Stephen_Newman (Jul 14, 2009)

Boc said:


> So to those of us that are slacking... get writing!


I thought that this was just you:grin:


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Me, Mossy, eremite, Shogun, C'tan, jaggedjaw and more... nope, not just me.

Though I'm certainly not going to complain


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## ckcrawford (Feb 4, 2009)

Boc said:


> Me, Mossy, eremite, Shogun, C'tan, jaggedjaw and more... nope, not just me.
> 
> Though I'm certainly not going to complain


I hate you guys unish:


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## Kaiden (Apr 1, 2010)

*Vengence Found*

Hey all, just got back from holiday so apologies if this missed the deadline.

Word count 1009.

Padox was under attack.

The famed Garden world, like the other planets of the Curbaer Sub-Sector, was fighting a war against peaceful tyranny. The invaders had issued a transmission, demanding that the peoples of Padox renounce their oaths to the Imperium, and swear fealty to their Empire.

Lord Governor Turach had replied in the prescribed fashion for a world of the Imperium of Man. A salvo of deathstrike missiles aimed directly at the xenos flagship. The shields of the massive cruiser had burned white hot, under such a fierce kinetic and thermal assault, but had held fast. The invaders responded by annihilating the inhabitants of the southernmost continent of Padox. Their advanced weaponry targeting only human life forms, but leaving their prize unharmed.

It had taken just seven hours for Lord Governor Turach, recognized by the high lords of Terra, to swear allegiance to the Tau Empire.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Decimus and his team ducked low behind a servo-coach, as another group of drones zipped overhead. They had watched these invaders for days, memorizing their routes, waiting for their prey to arrive.

The squad shifted from cover to cover, moving silently in their light scout armour as they crossed the main boulevard and entered the palace library, their chosen firing position. The Deathwatch took up positions in the library’s storage loft, a small room with a large ornate window. Abandoned by all staff once the invaders had landed, it provided a perfect view of the palace courtyard. There they waited.

The ivory spires of the beautiful city gleamed silver and white in the midday sun, as a cool breeze swept through the palace grounds, rustling the trees. Decimus offered up a small prayer he looked down the sights of his rifle. At the far end of the gardens he saw a once mighty statue of the Emperor, being torn down by those who once stood loyal in its shadow.

The unmistakable sound of lasgun fire could be heard close by in short, disciplined volleys. The sudden noise causing the royal show birds to take flight.

‘A firing squad’ mused Calibos, ‘more who fought back, these Padox troopers are made of sterner stuff than their governor.’

‘It will not alter our mission. Those handful are no threat to Ru’shal, not when his warriors are here in force’ replied Decimus. The hate in his voice was evident, too raw to mask. He had hunted the Ethereal Ru’shal for over a decade, each time they had met in battle, the cursed xenos had fled and escaped retribution. Decimus had sworn an oath to avenge each of his brothers that had fallen to these xenos. He would not let Ru’shal escape again; he would have vengeance. 

The massive courtyard gates slowly began to open, bringing Decimus back to the present and the mission at hand. Dozen of the tau’s finest warriors marched in perfect time, followed by over a thousand guard troopers, unarmed and beaten. Behind them came a squadron of Battlesuits flanking a chimera transport.

As the rear door opened a large man, dressed immaculately and accompanied by a Tau stepped out into the sun.

‘Lord General Kortan’ said Corvax almost silently. ‘So he is with them too, traitor’ the Raven guard added with disgust.

‘It’s almost time, Ru’shal will be here soon.’ Decimus replied as he adjusted the sights on his rifle.

A klaxon sounded throughout the courtyard, the sentinels trained their weapons on the unarmed guardsmen. General Kortan took up position on the palace balcony, overlooking his former comrades as they were ordered to kneel in ranks. Beside him were several of the Tau leaders. Kortan stepped forward addressing the prisoners.

‘Children of Padox, do not fear our new allies for they mean us no harm.’ Kortan paused allowing his words to be heard by the prisoners. Even without his voice amplifiers the Astartes would have had no problem hearing every word.

‘We have been welcomed into a new order, one that will no longer demand sacrifice and blood from you, but will safeguard and protect us.’ He leaned forward on the balcony meeting the gaze of several guardsmen below. ‘All they ask in return is a contribution from Padox to the greater good of the order; Ethereal Ru’shal shall now address you.’

Decimus’ hearts beat faster just hearing the name; he forced his breathing to slow and his mind to clear.

‘Why would Ru’shall waste his time on that lot?’ asked Maxillius, as he rechecked his venerable bolter’s loadout.

‘The Tau are no fools, they know well they cannot face the Imperium in open war. And they do not waste that which they can use.’ Decimus stated flalty, ‘The Ethereals have an unnatural command over words, and they can rouse unwavering support from their followers. These are one thousand more for their number and one thousand less to stand against them.’

The Palace doors opened and Ethereal Ru’shal walked slowly and gracefully to the balcony, flanked by two mighty Battlesuits and the portly form of Governor Turach. Decimus became intensely aware of the crosshairs on his scope and aimed them right over Ru’shal’s forehead. He breathed slowly ‘Brothers, you know your targets, we fire as one.’

‘Emperor guide our shots’ Maxillius and Kryx sounded as they took aim at the Tau warriors, their experienced eyes easily finding the leaders.

‘In the name of the Primarchs, we deliver death to the heretic’ intoned Corvax as he levelled his rifle at Kortan.

‘Those who conspire with xenos, share their crime of existence’ Calibos whispered, as his sights found the former Governor.

Decimus smiled ‘Suffer not the alien to live.’

‘Now.’ The shots rang out as one mighty roar of thunder, echoing around the courtyard. 

The stunned and confused Tau sank to their knees as they looked upon the headless forms of their Leaders. Seeing an opportunity the guardsmen charged forward, quickly overwhelming thier captors with sheer weight of numbers and turning the normally peacefully palace grounds into a bloody melee. 

Amidst the chaos the Kill team slipped away. This war was over.


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Sorry all, been a bit busy at work!

This officially ends HOES 4, thanks for all who entered, and those of us who didn't, well we just suck.

Voting thread will be up in a few minutes.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Sorry I missed this one! I had started on the next part of _Iron Within_ but sadly I ran out of time due to working on other things and many real-life issues (hence my overall silence on the boards here this past month). I don't know if I'll be taking part for the next couple of months as Black Library is opening up a submission window for work starting May 1st and ending July 31st (I believe). I've got quite a few ideas that I need to flesh out and written down before I can try to work on anything else for here. However, I will keep a wary eye out because I enjoy this and, if it turns out I do have time (or need to release some creative impetus for the hell of it) I shall do it here!

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate


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