This is the beginning of a short story where the Imperial Guard and the Imperial Fists have to defend a world against a massive Ork host. Occassionally I will add more bits and pieces of it to the site, just to showcase the might of the Imperium!
Posted by jonathon2 on
yes our head story writer jonathon2 released his first story here and it is great.
Awesome story!
Black Library should release this story as a new warhammer 40k book. =D =P XD
Author Thanks for the compliments, bro! And just so you know I have more that I can post and let you guys see if you want. XD
I really like how he uses adjectives, he really describes the set for a person to imagine the scene! Nice work!
Author Thanks for the compliment man! Always good to hear someone likes my material. :D
nice man, you have talent, continue good work :D
Author
Author My strength when writing: the fighting, weakness: most parts other than the fighting. For example, I have no problem describing a battle, example above, but I can't seem to find the words to describe a palace where the king sits in court. Though I am trying to fix that, man, all for the fans. :P
Captain Morteous – IV Company, Overall Commander of the Crusade
Sergeant Idean – Tactical Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>
Sergeant Sejenus – Assault Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>
Sergeant Siegfried – Scout Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>
Sergeant Carlem – Devastator Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes
Sergeant Leanius – Tactical Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>
Sergeant Nelphium – Assault Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>
Sergeant Tetrius – Devastator Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>
Sergeant Ashelviin – Tactical Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>
Sergeant Neterus – Tactical Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>
Sergeant Aurelius – Tactical Squad, IV Company <10 Astartes>XLVIII Carron Legion (Regiment) <4,000 Men> Lord General Aximand – Commander of Imperial Guard Forces in the Crusade
Centurion Marius – Commander of I Century (Company) <400 Men>
Centurion Aelian – Commander of II Century (Company) <600 Men>
Centurion Aetius – Commander of III Century (Company) <250> Centurion Anenobarbus – Commander of the Famous IV Century (Company) <1500 Men>
Centurion Egnatius – Commander of V Century (Company) <150 Men>
Centurion Antonius – Commander of X Century (Company) <600 Men> Centurion Augustus – Commander of XII Century (Company) <500 Men>
Major Appius – Second-in-Command of I Century (Company)
Major Aquilinius – Second in Command of II Century (Company)
Major Gaius – Second-in-Command of III Century (Company)
Major Albus – Second-in-Command of IV Century (Company) Major Balbinus – Second-in-Command of V Century (Company)
Major Caelinus – Second-in-Command of X Century (Company)
Major Cassian – Second-in-Command of XII Century (Company)
Crusade Fleet and Imperial Navy Admiral Brutus – Admiral of the Fury (Retribution Class Battle)
Admiral Caius – Admiral of the Dauntless (Emperor Class Battleship)
Part 1: Chapter 1
Arrival on World
Flashback to Briefing
Meeting Inquisitor
Reinforce Guard Regiment Brother-Sergeant Idean fires a single shot from his bolter, and the newly spawned greenskin’s head is pulped by the detonating bolt round. ‘Brothers! Forward, in the name of the Emperor and our blessed Primarch, Rogal Dorn!’ As he yells that his tactical squad takes up the cry and charge forward into melee combat with the greenskins, rapidly cutting three of them down. An Ork equipped with a skorcha squeezes the trigger of his primitive flamethrower. A stream of blazing promethium flares out of the nozzle and wraps itself around Scout Tertan, roasting him alive within his carapace armor. A short, shrill scream is the last sound his mouth will ever make.
Immediately the rest of the scout squad open fire, the explosive rounds tearing the ork to
shreds, his blood spurting out from the massive craters that suddenly erupt within his chest, splattering against the yellow armor of the nine remaining scouts. A stream of ten thuds tells
Idean the Squad Voralunos, the Assault Squad. Immediately the Assault Marines lay into the surrounding, shocked greenskins with their chainswords, slaughtering them with ease. Sergeant Sejenus Materias ducks under a savage slash of an ork’s axe, then immediately retaliates with a slash of his chainsword along the orks knee. The massive, ten foot tall beast roars its pain and its bloodlust takes over as it carries on as if it wasn’t wounded.
It keeps slashing and hacking, trying as hard as it can to get past Sejenus’s
guard. The marine’s chainsword is a blur as he raggedly tries to keep the ork at bay, and, though it takes all of his skill, he still manages to slash his chainsword across the ork’s thick neck, severing its enlarged jugular vein. Thick streams of blood spurt out into the, which only serves to urge the
other orks into greater bloodlust, their instincts urging them to kill and kill and kill, urging them to wage their WAAAAAGH!!! across the stars, satiating their bloodlust in the bloody entrails of millions of Imperial Citizens. The Tactical squad and Assault squad are fighting back to back, with the remaining scouts flitting in between marines, their heavy weapons reaping a fearsome toll among the greenskins.
Bolt rounds roar through the air, felling orks by the hundred as the Space Marines are
maneuvering towards the massive Imperial Bastion to north, being bloodily held by XIVIII Carron Legion of Imperial Guardsmen, a total of four-thousand men. Lasfire falls like rain, like lightning bolts being flung from the heavens by ancient, primitive gods that ancient humanity used to revere in high regard. Heavy bolters fire from the walls of The Ravelin of the Saint, the explosive, rocket propelled rounds tearing great gouges out of the ork horde that is roaring and charging forward, screaming their primitive battle cries, the loud sounds of their voices almost drowning out the high pitched whine of the Imperial lasguns and the heavy, tumultuous roar of Imperial heavy bolters and heavy stubbers and handheld autoguns.
The loud concussive thud of earthshaker cannons break through both the sounds of weapons fire and the sounds of battle cries and the screams of the dieing. The shells shriek through their arcs, the shells whistle as they descend down towards the targets that the gunners have painstakenly made the calculations for, so as to eliminate the risks of hitting either the guardsmen or the Space Marines that are fighting their way towards Dominixas Gate in The Ravelin of the Saint. The rounds gain even more speed as they close the last couple of feet, then slam into the ground. The shells detonate, and massive explosions rip through the massive horde, each shell being responsible for over a hundred ork casualties, though, because of the size of the horde, it barely puts a dent
in it.
Finally, after twenty minutes of intense fighting, the space marines manage to clear enough ground for a thunderhawk to land and deploy the rest of the company, a total of seventy marines. As their massive, heavily armored forms rush down the ramps steps, a figure, resplendent in his terminator armor, strides Captain Morteous, leader of the Imperial Fists fourth company. His storm bolter bucks and kicks in his hand and his lightning claw crackles and sizzles as it sparks into life and is tearing the greenskins to shreds. A massive greenskin, clad in Mega Armor, the greenskin imitation of power armor, lumbers up, its massive claws snapping and clicking in the air, producing loud audible clicks.
Instead of the honorable captain answering the challenge, Aximand, the company champion, walks forward, clad in standard power armor, Mark VII. A power sword is quickly drawn and activated, and an electrical field shimmering into life along its length. Clasping it in a two handed grip Aximand charges, then leaps into the air, and as he comes down from his leap he swings his power sword in a downward arc. The blade slams into the orks claw, shearing through one of the pincers and getting stuck halfway through the other one. Before he slams into the beast, he bends his knees and makes it where his feet slam into the ork’s chest, staggering it. As it stumbles backward, Aximand rapidly straightens his knees, so fast the it vaults him off of the beast, he flips
through the air and lands on knee, his back to the ork.
Spinning round rapidly he swings his weapon through the air as the ork charges, the energized blade slicing through the crude metal as though it were. A sheet of yellow sparks shoot out into the
air as the marine and ork clash in combat for a tense few seconds then Aximand delivers the killing blow with a brutal slash that cuts through his opponents neck, severing it’s head from it’s shoulders.
As the two ton beast topples backwards to the ground, Aximand looks around for a new target then charges to join the fray, supporting the marines against the greenskins. Centurion Anenobarbus raises his bolt pistol and fires the six round clip into the chest
of an ork as it clambers through the breach in the trenches. The massive beast is thrown backwards by the explosive rounds. Slamming home a fresh sickle clip, he racks the slide, than ducks as an ork swings its choppa at his head, his plumed helmet falling from his head. Thrusting his chainsword into the beasts torso, it screams as its vital organs are pulped and shredded by the whirring teeth of the chainsword. The beast collapses into a lifeless corpse as he rips the blade free, chunks of flesh being thrown out into the air. Five hundred guardsmen are fighting along side him, their lasguns flashing, the massed firepower slaughtering the orks as they charge the defensive line.
Heavy bolters are chattering from their emplacements, the rounds tearing great gouges
out of the massive horde. Stubbers on the turrets of the chimeras and hellhounds are firing, their high caliber bullets reaping a massive toll among the greenskins. The inferno cannons of the IV century’s hellhounds incinerating the orks. Volleys of artillery shells are launched into the air then slam down into the massive horde, the shells detonating to murderous effect, the scything
shrapnel tearing the nearby orks to shreds, leaving nothing but shredded corpses in their place.
Anenobarbus slashes his chainsword across the chest of an ork, its thick, leathery hide resisting the whirring teeth as they whine in protest to this intense use. The ork roars, spittle flies into Anenobarbus's face, causing him to instinctively duck, as he does so, he hears the beast's weapon whistle through the air where his head was.