He spent years fighting a punishing war against enemies who are demigods allied with daemons, and now finds himself in the closest thing to Hell he's ever known. He probably wasn't even supposed to get teleported up to the arch-traitor's battle barge in the first place, and just being in the wrong place at the worst possible time.
Yet despite everything, he survived horrors beyond comprehension to make his way to the very bridge of Horus' flagship. There he saw a veritable angel calling upon Horus to answer for his crimes, and he saw that angel die as mercilessly as any common man. His Emperor - who he fervently believes is a god incarnate, even if he's not supposed to - lies mortally wounded, and Horus, perhaps, has taken a moment to gloat before he strikes the killing blow.
Armed with armor is slightly more effective than tissue paper and a weapon slightly more powerful than a flashlight, there he stood against Horus whose single claw was already bigger than the man himself. He stands before a being infused by the dark gods with incalculable power that can and will obliterate his soul with no more effort than it would take to blink an eye. Nothing he can do could possibly make a difference.
He could run. He could turn his weapon on himself. He could give in to the insidious whispers that echo from the ship's corridors. But succumb to temptation he didn't. Ollanius Pius does the duty his Emperor requires of him. He dies standing, holding the line.
Recently i took part in a short story writing competition where the max word count was 300. There was no min number of of words. So Yeah, by the time you read this, the competition is probably over. Should you see this before the 6TH OF AUGUST 2012, please rate between 1-10 where 1 is the worst and 10 is the best. Opinions would be appreciated