Imperial Literature

$100 Contest Entry by Dae

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The world was dying, reflected Alexan Fiercen. Gazing through the viewing panel of his Thunderhawk as it moved slowly across space, he contemplated the planet below. It had been a busy world, with industries pumping out goods and weapons at incredible rates and hive cities whose highest spires reached up to the skies. Yes, thought the marine, this world had been alive, but now was meeting it’s end. The spires lay smashed at the feet of the Hives, themselves reduced to rubble by the pounding of artillery barrages. Only a handful of the factories were still active, and no more smoke billowed out from the forests of chimneys in the industrial zones, instead coming from the thousands of fires that ravaged the planet.

One month to destroy a world, one month since the ships of the fleet had deactivated their Warp Engines and translated back into normal space, fighting off the naval task forces sent to stop them before smashing through the inner defence ring. Fiercen looked again, savoring the view. The taste of the revenge to come was sweet, so sweet! One thousand years ago, they had cast him and his brothers away, and now they would see how foolish they had been. How had they not seen he only wanted to serve? Why had they rejected all negotiation? And why, most of all, had they hunted his brothers down because they tried to use the most efficient weapons ever designed?

Under the guidance of Lord Hueco and Father Nurgle, the Plague had rebuilt it’s forces and grown so much stronger than it was before. Use the enemy’s tactics against him, had said Lord Hueco, and Fiercen had obeyed, just like his battle-brothers. For almost one millennium now, they had conducted raids and plunders, sometimes larger incursions, the Imperium proving to be an endless reservoir of targets for their experiments.

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