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Paladin: Disciple of Chaos (Warhammer 40k SI)
- Thread starter Fulcon
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Statistics (2 threadmarks, 3.8k words)
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Chapter 1: Biography
New
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
- Joined
- May 1, 2019
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- 663
- Likes received
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Disclaimer: Warhammer 40k is the property of Games Workshop. Please support the official release.
---
Isekai is supposed to be a good thing.
I mean, sure. You lose your family, your history, your culture, your civilization. But that's just part of the game. You get a fresh start! You enter a new world, get a new family, get to start your life over with all the experience you gained from your previous life.
You get to take all the crap you learned, apply yourself while you're young and you do alright for yourself. The fantasy is that you become some kind of god with a harem of obedient, beautiful women who would do anything for you and let you do whatever you want to them.
But…that didn't happen this time.
It couldn't.
Not here.
Never here.
It is the forty first millennium. The Imperium of Man stretches over the vast cosmos of the galaxy like a terminal cancer, with its endless armies, machines and ships of war.
I was born again in the Hive City of Vulcan. My parents had nothing, crawling like rats deep in the underbelly where the pistons of giant machinery pump, where mutants have reign and the only hint of the Emperor's light are the servo skulls floating high above as they attended to their duties.
When I had turned eight, my parents were both killed by a mutant cannibal. Still remember the fangs. His arm, fused together, the flesh knit so he couldn't extend it. Normally, a handicap like that would've spelled the end of that thing to even a basic bat, but it was fast, strong. Elbows were sharper than spears.
Would've gotten me, too, but thankfully there was a bigger fish around the corner that didn't see me.
Living in the depths wasn't easy. Couldn't leave, could never get the authorization. What little food I could hunt and kill was sometimes taken from me by bigger players. A particular Orgryn, called himself Bone, was usually the culprit, but not always.
I killed my first man at age nine. Wasn't self-defense, either. He had taken the carcass of some rat that I had just finished cooking and ate it in front of me, brandishing a laspistol in my face, daring me to do something about it. Well, I found him later that night, broke into the little crate he called home, took his pistol and put a hole in his head.
There was no shock, no push. I remember that I had closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger, and my heart stopped because I thought the weapon was broken. No, it worked...there was just no recoil. The hum of the laser, the vibration of the weapon...just didn't register.
Lasgun's are a marvel. Truly.
That thing stayed by my side for five years, helping me kill small game skittering around the leaking pipes and rivers of molten plasteel. You know scorpions taste like shrimp? Not bad. But what I wouldn't have given for some corpse-starch.
I know. I know. Disgusting. Tasted like its name.
But the few times I got a hold of some were the days that I actually felt like I had eaten my fill. No better spice than hunger, it's been said.
The laspistol eventually broke. I wasn't sure what happened at the time, but looking back on it, I think the charge port for the cell burnt out and needed replacing. A true shame. Didn't have to worry about it for long, though, because a couple of days after my mishap, the Adeptus Arbites had come down to the lower levels to collect people for the tithe, to send men to die for the Imperium.
Took me three whole days to climb my way up far enough to find the recruiters. At fourteen, they told me I was too young, but I didn't care and they conveniently found that my date of birth was a couple years further back than was previously recorded.
Thank the Emperor for that. I was taken aboard the ships, enrolled into the Astra Militarum and given training. Yeah, it was hard. The instructors beat us with rods when we messed up, they shouted constantly. But we got three servings of corpse starch a day, which was better than the inconsistent rats and insects I had used to eat.
One of the Instructors hit me in the face with a rod when I failed to properly load my lasgun. Took an eye. It was replaced with a red, telescopic optic. Goes to show me that there's never a reprieve, only new problems.
But in spite of all that, I found a home in the Astra Militarum. Only a guardsmen, only ever a guardsmen. I turned down multiple promotions so I would stay a guardsman. Why? Well, it's pretty simple. It's not my squad, not my Sergeant or Lieutenant, nor is the Commissar particularly pleasant.
He's not, he's an idiot.
No. It's very simple.
The lower on the totem pole I am, the less I know. The less I know...well. Ignorance is a blessing.
Except I'm not ignorant, am I?
I knew this place.
This era.
Before I died.
I know the horrors that lay beyond the eyes of man.
Thankfully, they have become naught but distant memories. I don't even remember their names, only that there were four of them. Four gods derived from the worst excesses of everything alive.
But I want nothing to do with them. I have no care for the Imperium, no interest in triumph or desire for romance and I sure don't have any ambition to lead.
The only thing I wish to do is worship the Emperor and do my part. Because off the edges of the Astronomicon lie monsters. Monsters that will string out my veins over the continent, rip out my heart and consume my soul.
Anything more would signal the sharks that a minnow was swimming among them.
So...I know nothing. There is nothing but the Emperor and those who stand against him for whatever madness they concoct.
There is nothing in the dark.
My name Nathaniel Lionhardt.
And I do my duty.
---
Author's Note: Well, here is a project that I don't think I ever expected to actually post here, especially after I tossed the first ten chapters or so. Eh...don't get excited. I've only got this one finished and I'm working on the second right now. Uh...I hope this grabs you. I have worked pretty hard on this project.
As far as the timeline goes, the character here is a contemporary of Ciaphas Cain. I'm not willing to delve into the newer lore because I kind of like the way the setting was before they began progressing the story.
Please let me know what you think in the comments below.
Thank you very much for reading.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
Isekai is supposed to be a good thing.
I mean, sure. You lose your family, your history, your culture, your civilization. But that's just part of the game. You get a fresh start! You enter a new world, get a new family, get to start your life over with all the experience you gained from your previous life.
You get to take all the crap you learned, apply yourself while you're young and you do alright for yourself. The fantasy is that you become some kind of god with a harem of obedient, beautiful women who would do anything for you and let you do whatever you want to them.
But…that didn't happen this time.
It couldn't.
Not here.
Never here.
It is the forty first millennium. The Imperium of Man stretches over the vast cosmos of the galaxy like a terminal cancer, with its endless armies, machines and ships of war.
I was born again in the Hive City of Vulcan. My parents had nothing, crawling like rats deep in the underbelly where the pistons of giant machinery pump, where mutants have reign and the only hint of the Emperor's light are the servo skulls floating high above as they attended to their duties.
When I had turned eight, my parents were both killed by a mutant cannibal. Still remember the fangs. His arm, fused together, the flesh knit so he couldn't extend it. Normally, a handicap like that would've spelled the end of that thing to even a basic bat, but it was fast, strong. Elbows were sharper than spears.
Would've gotten me, too, but thankfully there was a bigger fish around the corner that didn't see me.
Living in the depths wasn't easy. Couldn't leave, could never get the authorization. What little food I could hunt and kill was sometimes taken from me by bigger players. A particular Orgryn, called himself Bone, was usually the culprit, but not always.
I killed my first man at age nine. Wasn't self-defense, either. He had taken the carcass of some rat that I had just finished cooking and ate it in front of me, brandishing a laspistol in my face, daring me to do something about it. Well, I found him later that night, broke into the little crate he called home, took his pistol and put a hole in his head.
There was no shock, no push. I remember that I had closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger, and my heart stopped because I thought the weapon was broken. No, it worked...there was just no recoil. The hum of the laser, the vibration of the weapon...just didn't register.
Lasgun's are a marvel. Truly.
That thing stayed by my side for five years, helping me kill small game skittering around the leaking pipes and rivers of molten plasteel. You know scorpions taste like shrimp? Not bad. But what I wouldn't have given for some corpse-starch.
I know. I know. Disgusting. Tasted like its name.
But the few times I got a hold of some were the days that I actually felt like I had eaten my fill. No better spice than hunger, it's been said.
The laspistol eventually broke. I wasn't sure what happened at the time, but looking back on it, I think the charge port for the cell burnt out and needed replacing. A true shame. Didn't have to worry about it for long, though, because a couple of days after my mishap, the Adeptus Arbites had come down to the lower levels to collect people for the tithe, to send men to die for the Imperium.
Took me three whole days to climb my way up far enough to find the recruiters. At fourteen, they told me I was too young, but I didn't care and they conveniently found that my date of birth was a couple years further back than was previously recorded.
Thank the Emperor for that. I was taken aboard the ships, enrolled into the Astra Militarum and given training. Yeah, it was hard. The instructors beat us with rods when we messed up, they shouted constantly. But we got three servings of corpse starch a day, which was better than the inconsistent rats and insects I had used to eat.
One of the Instructors hit me in the face with a rod when I failed to properly load my lasgun. Took an eye. It was replaced with a red, telescopic optic. Goes to show me that there's never a reprieve, only new problems.
But in spite of all that, I found a home in the Astra Militarum. Only a guardsmen, only ever a guardsmen. I turned down multiple promotions so I would stay a guardsman. Why? Well, it's pretty simple. It's not my squad, not my Sergeant or Lieutenant, nor is the Commissar particularly pleasant.
He's not, he's an idiot.
No. It's very simple.
The lower on the totem pole I am, the less I know. The less I know...well. Ignorance is a blessing.
Except I'm not ignorant, am I?
I knew this place.
This era.
Before I died.
I know the horrors that lay beyond the eyes of man.
Thankfully, they have become naught but distant memories. I don't even remember their names, only that there were four of them. Four gods derived from the worst excesses of everything alive.
But I want nothing to do with them. I have no care for the Imperium, no interest in triumph or desire for romance and I sure don't have any ambition to lead.
The only thing I wish to do is worship the Emperor and do my part. Because off the edges of the Astronomicon lie monsters. Monsters that will string out my veins over the continent, rip out my heart and consume my soul.
Anything more would signal the sharks that a minnow was swimming among them.
So...I know nothing. There is nothing but the Emperor and those who stand against him for whatever madness they concoct.
There is nothing in the dark.
My name Nathaniel Lionhardt.
And I do my duty.
---
Author's Note: Well, here is a project that I don't think I ever expected to actually post here, especially after I tossed the first ten chapters or so. Eh...don't get excited. I've only got this one finished and I'm working on the second right now. Uh...I hope this grabs you. I have worked pretty hard on this project.
As far as the timeline goes, the character here is a contemporary of Ciaphas Cain. I'm not willing to delve into the newer lore because I kind of like the way the setting was before they began progressing the story.
Please let me know what you think in the comments below.
Thank you very much for reading.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Last edited:
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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bannerlord181
Making the rounds.
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A bit much to believe an instructor would hit a recruits eye and then, most importantly, replace the eye with a cybernetic eye. Them eyes don't grow on trees and they arnt for recruits either…a guardsmen recruit just isn't valued bruh especially a hive recruit
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
- Joined
- May 1, 2019
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- 663
- Likes received
- 9,661
Is it? That's good to know! Here I thought they DID grow on trees, just not the good ones.
Chapter 2: A day in the life.
New
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
- Joined
- May 1, 2019
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- 663
- Likes received
- 9,661
Disclaimer: Warhammer 40k is the property of Games Workshop. Please support the official release.
---
"Lionhardt?"
You're not the sarge, leave me alone.
"Lionhardt."
I'm trying to sleep.
"Lionhardt!"
Pried one eye open to look the offending Guardsman in the eye. "What, Brutus?"
"You think they're almost done down there?" Guardsman Gregor Brutus, everyone. Bald head, thick mustache, fingers drumming on whatever surface the hands were laying on. His green eyes darted from side to side, and my eye told me he had an elevated heart rate.
"No," I told him. "I'm trying to greet death well rested."
"Oh, that's all fine and dandy for you!" Brutus rejoined, slapping me on the knee. "The rest of us just ain't ready for the Emperor's peace."
Grunting, I sat up in my chair and picked up my helmet from it's space between my feet. "And thinking about it's just making it worse."
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Brutus asked, happy to engage in his pre-battle ritual of bickering with someone. "Sign up for servitor-ship?"
Usually, it's Guardsman Zacharias or our good old Sergeant Webb that indulges this distinguished gentleman but a quick glance to my left showed they were both out cold like I wanted to be, even as the Valkyrie carrying us like a pregnant mother jostled in the turbulent air. "Well, if it lets me take a nap…"
Brutus scoffed. "Bastard."
"Sleeping is fatherless behavior, now?" I asked, arching the eyebrow over my ocular while my lips made a crescent moon, pointed down.
"No, being a karking asshole is fatherless behavior," Brutus replied, scratching his mustache with his finger. "And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, grox." I snapped my fingers in disappointment. "Here I thought I was doing a good job hiding it."
"You were, you sneaky git," Brutus said, pointing a finger in my face. "But I caught ya. Nothing gets past me."
I chuckled and groaned, and soon he matched me, holding his lasrifle up, the stock resting on his armrest.
"But seriously, though," Brutus said. "I hope they're about done down there and all we're needed to do is secure a landing zone or two."
"That's the dream," I replied. "But I usually expect the worst. You know, so I'm only ever pleasantly surprised."
Brutus's fingers were still drumming, both on his knee and on the grip of his weapon. "This isn't a few rebels, though, Nate. We're walking headfirst into a Tyranid swarm."
"Yup."
"And they swallow entire worlds whole."
"Yup."
"That's like Exterminatus by xenos."
"Now there's a pleasant thought," I said, bringing my own rifle up to my optic and doing a quick scan. Everything seemed to be in working order. Yes, I did my blessings before we dropped out of warp, and yes, I did make sure the Machine Spirit was suitably pleased before I got aboard. Emperor be praised.
"You know there's an inquisitor out there who'd do it if he thought he could get away with it," Brutus said.
I nodded. "Yup."
"And we're going to fight it."
"For the Emperor."
"Well, of course," Brutus said. "For the Emperor. We're the tip of his spear and the first line of defense against the xenos, the mutant and worst of all…"
We spoke in unison. "The heretic."
Brutus spat. "Damned traitors. Warp take them all."
"And they'd be happy to go," I pointed out.
He laughed, soft and hollow. "That they would." He sighed, the tilt of his head as he looked to the floor showed me the dark circles beneath his eyes. Like bruises, in the crimson light of the transport. "We should just round them up and throw them screaming into the Eye of Terror."
"If only," I said, frowning and realizing that I was not going to be getting any sleep. My bionic eye started to glitch out, the reticle warping into some unholy abomination that blocked half my sight. A tap to the temple rebooted it, and half my vision was gone for the moment. "You think we'll see an angel down there?"
"Throne, I hope not." He shook his head, a shiver rippling through his hole body. "They only come when the situation is on this side of hopeless."
"True," I conceded, blinking in surprise as my eye turned back on, giving me back my depth perception. "But...an Angel of the Emperor. Can you imagine seeing one in person?"
Reluctantly, he nodded. "It would be quite amazing, I guess." Quietly, to himself, he muttered. "A good thing to see before the end."
I blinked. "What's got you so worked up?"
Brutus slowly turned to look me in the eyes, and behind his own? I saw a dead man walking. "I had a dream. When we were traveling through the warp."
Warp terrors. Common. Obviously. But he knew that and I knew that, so I just leaned forward and balanced my chin on my relaxed fist. "Alright."
Alarms blared, cutting him right off and immediately, the rest of our platoon was shaken from their naps, their own quiet conversations and last minute gear checks.
"We're coming in now," the pilot called over the vox. "I'm landing near the trenches, get ready for a warm welcome."
"Ladies!" Sergeant Web shouted, walking down the aisle even as the Valkyrie started to shake further. "Make sure your lasguns are turned on, your trousers are clean and your sights are calibrated! Because it! Is! Party time!"
At the end, he turned to the rest of us and held his fist high. "For the Emperor!"
As one, we chorused back to him. "FOR THE EMPEROR!"
A pair of servo skulls floated past us to flank the sergeant. The Valkyrie violently shook as it finally hit the ground and we stood up at ready. The loading ramp dropped. We sprinted right out.
Valkyries, with their frowning wings and conjoined tails were landing around us, carrying the rest of our platoon. The sky was filled with tornadoes of flying xenos whipping with the wind in intricate dance.
"Squad four, on me!" Sergeant Webb bellowed over the din of distant explosions thundering like the wrath of a Primarch. "Take cover in the south trenches and start laying down fire! Now! On the double!"
We turned, following the Sergeant as he sprinted for the trench line facing the enemy. Above us, a Valkyrie was impaled by a massive fine and went down in fire and smoke, crashing into the landing pad.
"Throne!" Christoff, another one of the guardsmen here, shouted as I hopped into the trench and stood on a crate to get a look over. "Was that the Lieutenant?"
"Hope not, we need him!" I answered as I took aim.
With lasguns, you could afford to take your time. In fact, you practically needed too. The Emperor's Flashlight has no spread, perfect recoil and easily blew limbs apart. But we weren't dealing with humans and the Tyranid's were especially tough, so you had to hit them in the head. Specifically, the eyes.
Take the gaunt, the lowest foot soldier of this blight on the galaxy. Segmented armor over the top of it's egg-shaped head and back. Four arms, each either ending in a spike
Normally, that would be impossible, but with my augmetic eye and the fact that lasgun's don't deal with projectile travel time, bullet drop or, you know, the wind? Became perfectly manageable. One shot, two shot, three. Three gaunt's down.
"Gaunt down!" Brutus called after frantically firing for the same amount of time.
The key is to not panic.
Ahead of us, though, were masses of bugs. Oceans of these bugs churned and roiled in the valley ahead of us, broken up by the firm hammer of the Emperor's artillery as our main force had set up a wall of guns far to the west, and we could watch as the bugs were treated to a rave as they got too close to the wall of guns built courtesy of the Imperial Guard.
Fire, hit, down. Fire, hit, down. Fire, miss, miss, hit, down.
"Steady men!"
I couldn't tell the difference between flying swarms and the clouds.
Sarge's yelling cut through my reverie. "Carnifex! Everyone focus fire!"
Aw, throne!
A carnifex is a massive, bipedal tank. Bigger than a tank, actually. This one, black segmented armor over the top of it's thighs in addition to the head and back. Armed with a massive cannon that fired something which splattered the ground behind us and filled our ears with the hiss of burning acid. Joy.
And it was charging.
"The Emperor protects!" called Zacharias.
Took aim, again, to hit it in the eyes. It was easier since this thing was so large, but it was moving and getting closer. Fire, hit. Fire, hit. Fire, hit. Come on, lasgun! Gouge your way into its brain! On the double, you can do it!
Hit! Hit! Hit! Hit!
GO DOWN ALREADY!
HIT and...it collapsed, violently shaking the ground as it created a bridge over our trench with its corpse. It's body was littered with black pockmarks where we had shot it, including the spiny arm that dug itself into the floor next to me like a support beam.
"Praise the Emperor!" Brutus celebrated.
Of course that the carnifex had ultimately did its job as we realized a mob of gaunt's jumped into our damn trench.
Brought my lasgun up and hit it in the head, spraying it's blackened gray-matter all over it's friend right behind it, which was wrestling with Sergeant Webb who was desperately trying to keep it's spines at bay with his rifle.
...what I wouldn't give for a shotgun…
Bring the gun up, shoot it in the hip since that's the only part of it from my angle that didn't put the sergeant behind my target. It buckled from the pain, letting out a cry, and that was all the Sergeant needed to bring the stock of his weapon to it's face, breaking teeth and sending it to the ground, where he stood and blinded it with the Emperor's light.
I turned around. Two gaunt's were fighting Hadriel, who just got impaled on one of the gaunt's spines, and Letena who was killed by a bite to the throat like she was common prey. Aim my rifle, avenge them in the name of the Emperor. Hadriel's killer, the Letena's.
Brutus's scratchy voice battered its way through the air. "These karking thing's don't stop!"
"Resume your position!" were our orders. "Keep firing, don't let them get to our position again!"
Got back up and saw that we very nearly had another wave for us. Over a dozen gaunts were nearly upon us, but through fire, whether calm and disciplined and nervous and erratic, we were able to stop them right as they got too us.
In spite of me, my hands were shaking. I grabbed the arm of the this xeno filth and pulled the corpse into the trench so I could see again and took aim. My breath was heavy, I could feel the pulsing of the veins in my head against my helmet.
Overhead, six of the Navy's Marauder's soared, cutting through the sky like knives, their lasgun's crimson blades spelling death to the enemies in front of us. It only took a few moments more before the endless swarms before us were destroyed as the Emperor finally got sick and tired of these things and dropped the smallest taste of Exterminatus on them. The mushroom cloud reached high in the sky, and was followed by the snaps and cracks of additional ordinance dropped. The swarm was destroyed and hopefully, there were no friendly casualties for the main fighting force to the west.
We kept shooting, of course. The gaunt's kept charging, even as other of these xenos creatures fled the scene. Shoot. Fire. Down. Shoot, fire, down…
The clouds of xenos were no longer flying in elegant cyclones, engaged now by Imperial Thunderbolts and Lightning interceptors.
But...eventually, the gaunt's were all destroyed.
"Praise the Emperor!" The Sergeant called. "Don't anyone go anywhere! Our orders are to hold this position and hold this position we shall!"
The smell of acid, blood and death hung in the air. I could hear the wind shift, now, everything easily quiet as I was finally alone with my thoughts, even though the vision in my augmetic was getting fuzzy again. A couple taps to the temple sorted it out without needing a reboot.
To my right, I heard the hum of a servo skull approaching the sergeant. Out blared the voice of Lieutenant Daniel Duke. "Squad two, leave two men to watch that position. I want the rest of your men to gather the dead and check the crash for anyone in squad three that survived."
"Alright. Brutus! Zacharias! You two remain here and hold the position. Nathaniel, gather up Hadriel and Letena and lay them up respectful-like. The rest of you, with me. We're checking the crash."
I shouldered my rifle and got to work.
The xeno had nearly torn Letena's head clean off with that bite. I'm just glad the gaunt had let go before I shot it, because otherwise they would've been a nightmare to celebrate. I picked her up in a bridal carry, making sure to brace her head with my shoulder and avoid jostling it so it didn't come off all the way.
Within the bounds of our landing zone, I laid her down at attention. Now that I got a better look at where we landed, we had touched down in a small Militarum base that...seems like it had been abandoned for a while.
So we had been here before. Suppose that's too be expected.
In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future, there is only war.
I went down and got to work on Hadriel. His condition was much more challenging, as the gaunt was still attached to him by way it it's impaled limb, even as it tried to shoot its rifle over my comrade's shoulder. Grabbing Hadriel by the shoulders, I placed my book on the xeno's chest and pretended that I was saving him by kicking this xenos into the sun.
Then, I also picked him up, and laid him beside Letena.
They looked so peaceful, laying there. I don't want to think about what's happening to them in the...no. There is nothing but the Emperor's light.
I didn't know Hadriel and Letena well. I don't talk much in general and they were fairly new, transferred to our squad after Fortessa and Jack said something the Commissar took the wrong way. What happened to them, was…
It was one of the times that I wished the Imperium's brutality wasn't a necessity for survival.
With my duty done, I strolled up to the Sergeant, who was coordinating the rest of our squad. "Sergeant, my task is complete."
"Very good," Sergeant Webb replied. "Take up with Zacharias and Brutus!"
"Yes, Sergeant."
So I did, taking back my spot, watching as Lightnings and Thunderbolts flew in formation around flocks of Marauders in the sky while keeping our sight lines clear.
To the left, I heard Brutus, heavily breathing. A quick glance revealed stiff movements, eyes wide yet far away. Further still, I saw Zacharias lighting up an Iho-stick when he thought no-one was watching, then went back to training his rifle down range.
Poor guys. You know what the only good thing about...about coming to the forty first millennium?
I came knowing that death wasn't the worst thing that could happen to you.
---
Author's Note: Second chapter. Nothing too crazy, I don't think. Just showcasing Nate's life in the Astra Militarum. Hope you all enjoyed!
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
"Lionhardt?"
You're not the sarge, leave me alone.
"Lionhardt."
I'm trying to sleep.
"Lionhardt!"
Pried one eye open to look the offending Guardsman in the eye. "What, Brutus?"
"You think they're almost done down there?" Guardsman Gregor Brutus, everyone. Bald head, thick mustache, fingers drumming on whatever surface the hands were laying on. His green eyes darted from side to side, and my eye told me he had an elevated heart rate.
"No," I told him. "I'm trying to greet death well rested."
"Oh, that's all fine and dandy for you!" Brutus rejoined, slapping me on the knee. "The rest of us just ain't ready for the Emperor's peace."
Grunting, I sat up in my chair and picked up my helmet from it's space between my feet. "And thinking about it's just making it worse."
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Brutus asked, happy to engage in his pre-battle ritual of bickering with someone. "Sign up for servitor-ship?"
Usually, it's Guardsman Zacharias or our good old Sergeant Webb that indulges this distinguished gentleman but a quick glance to my left showed they were both out cold like I wanted to be, even as the Valkyrie carrying us like a pregnant mother jostled in the turbulent air. "Well, if it lets me take a nap…"
Brutus scoffed. "Bastard."
"Sleeping is fatherless behavior, now?" I asked, arching the eyebrow over my ocular while my lips made a crescent moon, pointed down.
"No, being a karking asshole is fatherless behavior," Brutus replied, scratching his mustache with his finger. "And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, grox." I snapped my fingers in disappointment. "Here I thought I was doing a good job hiding it."
"You were, you sneaky git," Brutus said, pointing a finger in my face. "But I caught ya. Nothing gets past me."
I chuckled and groaned, and soon he matched me, holding his lasrifle up, the stock resting on his armrest.
"But seriously, though," Brutus said. "I hope they're about done down there and all we're needed to do is secure a landing zone or two."
"That's the dream," I replied. "But I usually expect the worst. You know, so I'm only ever pleasantly surprised."
Brutus's fingers were still drumming, both on his knee and on the grip of his weapon. "This isn't a few rebels, though, Nate. We're walking headfirst into a Tyranid swarm."
"Yup."
"And they swallow entire worlds whole."
"Yup."
"That's like Exterminatus by xenos."
"Now there's a pleasant thought," I said, bringing my own rifle up to my optic and doing a quick scan. Everything seemed to be in working order. Yes, I did my blessings before we dropped out of warp, and yes, I did make sure the Machine Spirit was suitably pleased before I got aboard. Emperor be praised.
"You know there's an inquisitor out there who'd do it if he thought he could get away with it," Brutus said.
I nodded. "Yup."
"And we're going to fight it."
"For the Emperor."
"Well, of course," Brutus said. "For the Emperor. We're the tip of his spear and the first line of defense against the xenos, the mutant and worst of all…"
We spoke in unison. "The heretic."
Brutus spat. "Damned traitors. Warp take them all."
"And they'd be happy to go," I pointed out.
He laughed, soft and hollow. "That they would." He sighed, the tilt of his head as he looked to the floor showed me the dark circles beneath his eyes. Like bruises, in the crimson light of the transport. "We should just round them up and throw them screaming into the Eye of Terror."
"If only," I said, frowning and realizing that I was not going to be getting any sleep. My bionic eye started to glitch out, the reticle warping into some unholy abomination that blocked half my sight. A tap to the temple rebooted it, and half my vision was gone for the moment. "You think we'll see an angel down there?"
"Throne, I hope not." He shook his head, a shiver rippling through his hole body. "They only come when the situation is on this side of hopeless."
"True," I conceded, blinking in surprise as my eye turned back on, giving me back my depth perception. "But...an Angel of the Emperor. Can you imagine seeing one in person?"
Reluctantly, he nodded. "It would be quite amazing, I guess." Quietly, to himself, he muttered. "A good thing to see before the end."
I blinked. "What's got you so worked up?"
Brutus slowly turned to look me in the eyes, and behind his own? I saw a dead man walking. "I had a dream. When we were traveling through the warp."
Warp terrors. Common. Obviously. But he knew that and I knew that, so I just leaned forward and balanced my chin on my relaxed fist. "Alright."
Alarms blared, cutting him right off and immediately, the rest of our platoon was shaken from their naps, their own quiet conversations and last minute gear checks.
"We're coming in now," the pilot called over the vox. "I'm landing near the trenches, get ready for a warm welcome."
"Ladies!" Sergeant Web shouted, walking down the aisle even as the Valkyrie started to shake further. "Make sure your lasguns are turned on, your trousers are clean and your sights are calibrated! Because it! Is! Party time!"
At the end, he turned to the rest of us and held his fist high. "For the Emperor!"
As one, we chorused back to him. "FOR THE EMPEROR!"
A pair of servo skulls floated past us to flank the sergeant. The Valkyrie violently shook as it finally hit the ground and we stood up at ready. The loading ramp dropped. We sprinted right out.
Valkyries, with their frowning wings and conjoined tails were landing around us, carrying the rest of our platoon. The sky was filled with tornadoes of flying xenos whipping with the wind in intricate dance.
"Squad four, on me!" Sergeant Webb bellowed over the din of distant explosions thundering like the wrath of a Primarch. "Take cover in the south trenches and start laying down fire! Now! On the double!"
We turned, following the Sergeant as he sprinted for the trench line facing the enemy. Above us, a Valkyrie was impaled by a massive fine and went down in fire and smoke, crashing into the landing pad.
"Throne!" Christoff, another one of the guardsmen here, shouted as I hopped into the trench and stood on a crate to get a look over. "Was that the Lieutenant?"
"Hope not, we need him!" I answered as I took aim.
With lasguns, you could afford to take your time. In fact, you practically needed too. The Emperor's Flashlight has no spread, perfect recoil and easily blew limbs apart. But we weren't dealing with humans and the Tyranid's were especially tough, so you had to hit them in the head. Specifically, the eyes.
Take the gaunt, the lowest foot soldier of this blight on the galaxy. Segmented armor over the top of it's egg-shaped head and back. Four arms, each either ending in a spike
Normally, that would be impossible, but with my augmetic eye and the fact that lasgun's don't deal with projectile travel time, bullet drop or, you know, the wind? Became perfectly manageable. One shot, two shot, three. Three gaunt's down.
"Gaunt down!" Brutus called after frantically firing for the same amount of time.
The key is to not panic.
Ahead of us, though, were masses of bugs. Oceans of these bugs churned and roiled in the valley ahead of us, broken up by the firm hammer of the Emperor's artillery as our main force had set up a wall of guns far to the west, and we could watch as the bugs were treated to a rave as they got too close to the wall of guns built courtesy of the Imperial Guard.
Fire, hit, down. Fire, hit, down. Fire, miss, miss, hit, down.
"Steady men!"
I couldn't tell the difference between flying swarms and the clouds.
Sarge's yelling cut through my reverie. "Carnifex! Everyone focus fire!"
Aw, throne!
A carnifex is a massive, bipedal tank. Bigger than a tank, actually. This one, black segmented armor over the top of it's thighs in addition to the head and back. Armed with a massive cannon that fired something which splattered the ground behind us and filled our ears with the hiss of burning acid. Joy.
And it was charging.
"The Emperor protects!" called Zacharias.
Took aim, again, to hit it in the eyes. It was easier since this thing was so large, but it was moving and getting closer. Fire, hit. Fire, hit. Fire, hit. Come on, lasgun! Gouge your way into its brain! On the double, you can do it!
Hit! Hit! Hit! Hit!
GO DOWN ALREADY!
HIT and...it collapsed, violently shaking the ground as it created a bridge over our trench with its corpse. It's body was littered with black pockmarks where we had shot it, including the spiny arm that dug itself into the floor next to me like a support beam.
"Praise the Emperor!" Brutus celebrated.
Of course that the carnifex had ultimately did its job as we realized a mob of gaunt's jumped into our damn trench.
Brought my lasgun up and hit it in the head, spraying it's blackened gray-matter all over it's friend right behind it, which was wrestling with Sergeant Webb who was desperately trying to keep it's spines at bay with his rifle.
...what I wouldn't give for a shotgun…
Bring the gun up, shoot it in the hip since that's the only part of it from my angle that didn't put the sergeant behind my target. It buckled from the pain, letting out a cry, and that was all the Sergeant needed to bring the stock of his weapon to it's face, breaking teeth and sending it to the ground, where he stood and blinded it with the Emperor's light.
I turned around. Two gaunt's were fighting Hadriel, who just got impaled on one of the gaunt's spines, and Letena who was killed by a bite to the throat like she was common prey. Aim my rifle, avenge them in the name of the Emperor. Hadriel's killer, the Letena's.
Brutus's scratchy voice battered its way through the air. "These karking thing's don't stop!"
"Resume your position!" were our orders. "Keep firing, don't let them get to our position again!"
Got back up and saw that we very nearly had another wave for us. Over a dozen gaunts were nearly upon us, but through fire, whether calm and disciplined and nervous and erratic, we were able to stop them right as they got too us.
In spite of me, my hands were shaking. I grabbed the arm of the this xeno filth and pulled the corpse into the trench so I could see again and took aim. My breath was heavy, I could feel the pulsing of the veins in my head against my helmet.
Overhead, six of the Navy's Marauder's soared, cutting through the sky like knives, their lasgun's crimson blades spelling death to the enemies in front of us. It only took a few moments more before the endless swarms before us were destroyed as the Emperor finally got sick and tired of these things and dropped the smallest taste of Exterminatus on them. The mushroom cloud reached high in the sky, and was followed by the snaps and cracks of additional ordinance dropped. The swarm was destroyed and hopefully, there were no friendly casualties for the main fighting force to the west.
We kept shooting, of course. The gaunt's kept charging, even as other of these xenos creatures fled the scene. Shoot. Fire. Down. Shoot, fire, down…
The clouds of xenos were no longer flying in elegant cyclones, engaged now by Imperial Thunderbolts and Lightning interceptors.
But...eventually, the gaunt's were all destroyed.
"Praise the Emperor!" The Sergeant called. "Don't anyone go anywhere! Our orders are to hold this position and hold this position we shall!"
The smell of acid, blood and death hung in the air. I could hear the wind shift, now, everything easily quiet as I was finally alone with my thoughts, even though the vision in my augmetic was getting fuzzy again. A couple taps to the temple sorted it out without needing a reboot.
To my right, I heard the hum of a servo skull approaching the sergeant. Out blared the voice of Lieutenant Daniel Duke. "Squad two, leave two men to watch that position. I want the rest of your men to gather the dead and check the crash for anyone in squad three that survived."
"Alright. Brutus! Zacharias! You two remain here and hold the position. Nathaniel, gather up Hadriel and Letena and lay them up respectful-like. The rest of you, with me. We're checking the crash."
I shouldered my rifle and got to work.
The xeno had nearly torn Letena's head clean off with that bite. I'm just glad the gaunt had let go before I shot it, because otherwise they would've been a nightmare to celebrate. I picked her up in a bridal carry, making sure to brace her head with my shoulder and avoid jostling it so it didn't come off all the way.
Within the bounds of our landing zone, I laid her down at attention. Now that I got a better look at where we landed, we had touched down in a small Militarum base that...seems like it had been abandoned for a while.
So we had been here before. Suppose that's too be expected.
In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future, there is only war.
I went down and got to work on Hadriel. His condition was much more challenging, as the gaunt was still attached to him by way it it's impaled limb, even as it tried to shoot its rifle over my comrade's shoulder. Grabbing Hadriel by the shoulders, I placed my book on the xeno's chest and pretended that I was saving him by kicking this xenos into the sun.
Then, I also picked him up, and laid him beside Letena.
They looked so peaceful, laying there. I don't want to think about what's happening to them in the...no. There is nothing but the Emperor's light.
I didn't know Hadriel and Letena well. I don't talk much in general and they were fairly new, transferred to our squad after Fortessa and Jack said something the Commissar took the wrong way. What happened to them, was…
It was one of the times that I wished the Imperium's brutality wasn't a necessity for survival.
With my duty done, I strolled up to the Sergeant, who was coordinating the rest of our squad. "Sergeant, my task is complete."
"Very good," Sergeant Webb replied. "Take up with Zacharias and Brutus!"
"Yes, Sergeant."
So I did, taking back my spot, watching as Lightnings and Thunderbolts flew in formation around flocks of Marauders in the sky while keeping our sight lines clear.
To the left, I heard Brutus, heavily breathing. A quick glance revealed stiff movements, eyes wide yet far away. Further still, I saw Zacharias lighting up an Iho-stick when he thought no-one was watching, then went back to training his rifle down range.
Poor guys. You know what the only good thing about...about coming to the forty first millennium?
I came knowing that death wasn't the worst thing that could happen to you.
---
Author's Note: Second chapter. Nothing too crazy, I don't think. Just showcasing Nate's life in the Astra Militarum. Hope you all enjoyed!
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
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haralo99
Know what you're doing yet?
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You Know, I normally don't read 40K self Inserts , and that's mostly cause I don't trust self inserts. But reading about someone who does actually know the dangers, and he's okay with this dying because it's not the worst thing that can happen to you, is good. Now watching thus story
Edit: I hope he doesn't fall to Chaos =p.
Edit: I hope he doesn't fall to Chaos =p.
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TheHerowithaThousandFaces
Know what you're doing yet?
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Love this type of stories. You are doing a great job.
Gamer20791
Not too sore, are you?
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I think you might be in the wrong place judging by the title, but we can always hope. If it's done well then I'm all for a fall but most just turn into mustache twirling retards.