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by Rob Mancebo

Against the WAAAAGH!

31/08/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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Prologue

“Time until they come within weapons range?” Captain Mead paced back and forth upon the bridge of the Imperial Battlecrusier, Goliath.

“They are overtaking us rapidly, Sir!” Kran Mendla, the warship’s Operations Officer reported.

“I estimate one hour, three minutes, forty-five seconds.”

The Captain turned to a slim, eerie looking man who sat at his station calmly, seemingly untouched by either the tension of the epic battle they had just been a part of or by the massed Ork fleet that was hunting them down. “Helm, can we get any more speed?”

“No, Sir,” the Navigator’s dark eyes, mesmerizing wells of arcane knowledge, turned and held the ship’s commander in their surreal gaze for a moment. “With our real-space engines damaged, we could only escape by going into the warp.”

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by Drakdylon

Hold the Line, Men!

27/08/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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“What is left, then? When you are all alone out there, in the darkness. When the sum of your possessions are the clothes on your back, and the gun in your hand, and all you have for armor is your faith. What then stands between you and the shapeless void? What can save you from being thrown into the fires of death, where there is naught but weeping, and the gnashing of teeth?”

“Hold the line, men! Hold the line!” The Colonel’s voice was loud and harsh, but it was still hardly audible over the sound of the artillery fire. Our dirt-smeared Colonel stood tall, bullets pinging off of his reductor field, and lasblasts flashing and crackling away as they hit the energy-shield that protected him. His power sword was held high, and I watched as he brought it down, signaling the guns to fire. The sound of the cannons as they launched their ordnance downrange was deafening, and the ground rocked with the force of the impacts. The six Thudd guns suppressed the enemy advance, raining hot death upon the foe with every barrage. Each Thudd gun fired four shells; all told, twenty-four explosive blasts were launched downrange every time the battery fired.

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by wafu_vasco

Another Perspective

20/08/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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Shell after shell slammed into Garliam, slowly reducing the southern suburbs to ruin and rubble. War had raged across the surface of Ryloth IV for nearly half a year, but Garliam had been hit the hardest. The chaos forces were on the run.

Rex lowered his magnoculars and looked around him at the other Imperial forces. What a ridiculous plan. The attack was being led by a Mordian Colonel, who’s bright idea it was to march at the enemy across a mile and a half of target range for the chaos guns. In perfect line formation. Suicide.

An explosion threw up earth from a few dozen yards to Rex’s right. A few of the Rough Rider’s horses fidgeted nervously. The chaos artillery was in position, and ready for them. Rex looked back at his two dozen men – what a waste. The Catachen soldier was a guerrilla: a skirmisher, not cannon fodder for the line. Riles, Fern, Ash, Halen, how many of his boys would see the other side of this fight?

Colonel Richter rode his white charger out in front of the assembled regiments of guardsmen. He turned the horse to face his troops, and raised his sabre up before his face.

‘Guardsmen! Advance!’

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by Dae

It Happened at Three Islands

16/08/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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The rockets climbed towards the sky with a high-pitched whine, leaving behind them a trail of fire. They exploded high in the night, huge flowers of fire that lit up the darkness and the sea for a short instant, and one second later the sound came rolling over the sea, washing over the shore like a giant wave. Watching from the levee on the coast, with the water calmly swaying at the base of the rockrete, the crowd gasped in amazement as more flowers of gold, blue and green bloomed and wilted above their heads. Some children, startled by the noise, began to cry, hugging their parents tightly.

His broad shoulders looking slightly out of place in his civilian clothes, a man was sitting on one of the small flight of stairs that led down to the sea, one unopened bottle of amasec and two cups at his feet. Between two detonations, the sound of steps behind him made him look behind, and he smiled, waving at the tall and wiry man who was making his way towards him to come and sit next to him.

“Thought I’d find you here, Scy,” said the second man with a sincere smile as he sat down.

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by Psyren

Sinner’s Island

13/08/2009 in Original

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Make him bleed…

The fog was so thick now that I could barely see my hand in front of my face, let alone the back of the Correction Officer I was meant to be following. A small after-tremor shook the ground beneath me feet, making me stumble forward a few paces before regaining my balance.

He’ll only hurt you in the end…

I griped my shiv – a sharpened, improvised blade taken from one of the contraband storage rooms – so tightly that I felt the blood draining from my knuckles. I could see the silhouette of the CO framed against the fog, creeping forward with his service .33 revolver aimed at some invisible threat. He wouldn’t even see me coming… it’d be the perfect crime.

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by Gareth Lorn

Death

10/08/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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For forty thousand years, I have slept. For forty thousand long years, I have laid dormant as the stars bled and died, as time crept by; as life came and went, as the very essence of being flickered and faded so many times, I died slowly, the worms free to crawl through me and infest my body, the maggots free to hatch their spawn around me, as I slept for forty thousand years. As I waited.

Now, after forty thousand years of the lifeless wastelands above me brimming with nothingness, the dust gathering on the very horizon as the sand shifted and the rain fell, there is life on death’s doorstep once more, a heart beats in the blackened belly of still silence. And it is unwanted.

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by Mark Nutter

Hereclean Thunder

06/08/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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The storm rumbled its thunder across the heavens, lashing at the land below with claws of brilliant lightning. The rain seemed almost a part of the scenery now. It had been falling solidly for well over two months, and Sergeant Daenir had actually begun to believe that it was finding its way into his waterproof uniform. The Hereclean IX had been engaged in a fighting withdrawal from the planet for over three months now, and the majority were already off-planet in the Imperial transport ships high in orbit.

“This place is worse than the jungles on Terria,” muttered one of the guardsmen at his side. “I hate it!”

Daenir chuckled. “Doran, you hate everything. I can’t remember a day going by when you haven’t told me you hate something or someone.”

“But this place really takes the prize, Sarge! It ain’t ever been this bad.” The big man appeared to be a bedraggled mass of hair, his thick black mop clinging to his head and giving him the impression of a half-drowned dog.

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by Sholto

Please Don’t Feed the Warboss

03/08/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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“Gonna smash ya, humie! Rip your bleedin’ ‘ead right orf!”

Mumpsimus sighed, and made sure he had the sign straight. Inside the cage, behind a foot of solid sheet-diamond, the xeno brute hurled itself around its prison. The noise was quite unbearable, and Mumpsimus was dreading the equally intolerable smell when he had to open the hatch later on that morning.

“There.” The sign was finally straight. His writing was crooked, but the sign was straight. “Please Don’t Feed The Warboss,” it said. Vilipend, the Chiliarch for the entire laboratory complex, had told him what to write, in his usual ‘why are you still here?’ tone of voice, but Mumpsimus had added the “Please” himself. Politeness was something he put great store in, along with punctuality and neatness.

“Gonna squeeze ya so ‘ard, humie, your bonez’ll turn ta soup! Then I’ll bite your feet orf an’ drink da soup! He, he, he.”

Mumpsimus frowned, perplexed. “But that’s not even remotely plausible,” he said. “Your kind can build spaceships and – and –” Mumpsimus’ knowledge of the Orkoids was still sorely lacking, but he was certain they had spaceships of some sort, “- and so on, and you think that’s plausible? Do you even think these things through before you say them?”

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