Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2007 22:53:37 GMT -5
The assignment was a bit unorthadox, but then again, that was the least of Captain Orl's concerns now.
Company B was to serve under the Black Templars 5th company to hold the province of Naskaplar. It was an arid, dry badland, filled with the occaional backwater settlement deserted mellenia ago. The 101 Valhallan Rangers had been, along with 50 other regiments and 2 Space Marine chapters, tasked with cleansing Nicar IV of the Tyranid presense there. luckily the invasion had been a minor one, a stem of a splinter fleet. Though 6 months of bombardment had, as Fleet Command called it, "pacified" the bugs, Orl knew that the damn flyboys never say what happened groundside of the planet, even after 6 months of orbital bombardment.
He ordered Platoon A and B down the ridge to take up defensive positions and ordered the basilisks into position atop the ridge itself. The warm, pungent gas they exhumed stung his nostrils, but then again, what didnt on the frontline.
It was midday, the twin suns of Nicar IV blazing the Naskaparian badlands. In the distance he could see the Black Templars executing similar orders, as the sun reflected off thier black, glossy armour. Down below the platoons had dug themselves a nice little entrenchment to die in. The 'nids would be passing through this sector in about one standard hour. Least thats what intelligence had said.
Captain Orl was honoured to serve amongst the Emperor's finest. At Chillers point. they had single-handedly cut a swath through the bugs, killing thier leader (i.e-the biggest bug there was) and forced the others into retreat. But they would be back.
They always came back.
The first wave came approximatly one hour and 2 minutes later. Fire poured out from the nozzles of the flamethrowers as the guardsmen fought bravely against the red tide. Captain Orl screamed into the vox orders to his luitenants. The booming cannons from basilisk and whirlwind alike deafened the Captain as he swung around and saw through the chocking dust the Black templars driving back the filthy aliens. As he swung to the right he saw the rest of company B doing thier bit as Tyranids swarmed across the barren wasteland onto the ridgelines defenses. Many were skewered by the barricade of admantium blades. Others were torn apart by artillery fire. All descended into a droning din of fire, dust, and flying bits of gore.
Captain Orl charged down the ridge, slicing a hormagaunt in two. He checked his laspistol, and fired two quick shots into the heart of another. He saw as the guardsmen, in thier dour brown and tan uniforms fighting bugs all across the line. The edge of it was chocked with bodies on both sides. Lasgun fire permeated from the barricade into the swirling carpet of claws and gnashing teeth. bayonets slicing through carapce. Claws digging through armour. Blood squirted everywhere.
Through it all Orl heard through the vox a voice contending with static caused by the interception:
" Hold position. Reinforcements are en route!" The words were meaningless at the moment. He shot at another tyranid, and lunged forward into the fray. He felt a tiny line of searing hot pain across his left arm. No matter. In one swoop another two of the bugs were dead. The vox continued to chatter but Orl didnt care. From behind him one of the clawing creatures lunged at him. He barely got out of the way in time to face up at a sprawling tyranid warrior. The creature brought its scythe-arms crashing down on the ground he was just on, as Captain Orl raised his power sword to meet the creatures attack. He resisted the brute force of the powerful warrior all he could, but, his aging body failed him, and he was cast down into the bloody dirt. Dust swirled around him. Blood flowed like the trench was one huge open wound into the land itself. Somwhere through the din a man cried out for mercy.
Captain Roswell Orl could not tell what happened next, but he felt a huge weight crush his bones as he lied down helpless. His vision darkened. Through red creeping at his sight, he saw 300 Marines crash throught the heavens on wings of holy fire. O r were they angels? The captain smiled to himself. Yes. They were the Angels Of Death.
This peice of fiction I wrote tells of a battle between my guard and Black Templars against alot of Nids. I just thought it would be an interesting look into what normally would be seen as another ordinary mega-battle
Company B was to serve under the Black Templars 5th company to hold the province of Naskaplar. It was an arid, dry badland, filled with the occaional backwater settlement deserted mellenia ago. The 101 Valhallan Rangers had been, along with 50 other regiments and 2 Space Marine chapters, tasked with cleansing Nicar IV of the Tyranid presense there. luckily the invasion had been a minor one, a stem of a splinter fleet. Though 6 months of bombardment had, as Fleet Command called it, "pacified" the bugs, Orl knew that the damn flyboys never say what happened groundside of the planet, even after 6 months of orbital bombardment.
He ordered Platoon A and B down the ridge to take up defensive positions and ordered the basilisks into position atop the ridge itself. The warm, pungent gas they exhumed stung his nostrils, but then again, what didnt on the frontline.
It was midday, the twin suns of Nicar IV blazing the Naskaparian badlands. In the distance he could see the Black Templars executing similar orders, as the sun reflected off thier black, glossy armour. Down below the platoons had dug themselves a nice little entrenchment to die in. The 'nids would be passing through this sector in about one standard hour. Least thats what intelligence had said.
Captain Orl was honoured to serve amongst the Emperor's finest. At Chillers point. they had single-handedly cut a swath through the bugs, killing thier leader (i.e-the biggest bug there was) and forced the others into retreat. But they would be back.
They always came back.
The first wave came approximatly one hour and 2 minutes later. Fire poured out from the nozzles of the flamethrowers as the guardsmen fought bravely against the red tide. Captain Orl screamed into the vox orders to his luitenants. The booming cannons from basilisk and whirlwind alike deafened the Captain as he swung around and saw through the chocking dust the Black templars driving back the filthy aliens. As he swung to the right he saw the rest of company B doing thier bit as Tyranids swarmed across the barren wasteland onto the ridgelines defenses. Many were skewered by the barricade of admantium blades. Others were torn apart by artillery fire. All descended into a droning din of fire, dust, and flying bits of gore.
Captain Orl charged down the ridge, slicing a hormagaunt in two. He checked his laspistol, and fired two quick shots into the heart of another. He saw as the guardsmen, in thier dour brown and tan uniforms fighting bugs all across the line. The edge of it was chocked with bodies on both sides. Lasgun fire permeated from the barricade into the swirling carpet of claws and gnashing teeth. bayonets slicing through carapce. Claws digging through armour. Blood squirted everywhere.
Through it all Orl heard through the vox a voice contending with static caused by the interception:
" Hold position. Reinforcements are en route!" The words were meaningless at the moment. He shot at another tyranid, and lunged forward into the fray. He felt a tiny line of searing hot pain across his left arm. No matter. In one swoop another two of the bugs were dead. The vox continued to chatter but Orl didnt care. From behind him one of the clawing creatures lunged at him. He barely got out of the way in time to face up at a sprawling tyranid warrior. The creature brought its scythe-arms crashing down on the ground he was just on, as Captain Orl raised his power sword to meet the creatures attack. He resisted the brute force of the powerful warrior all he could, but, his aging body failed him, and he was cast down into the bloody dirt. Dust swirled around him. Blood flowed like the trench was one huge open wound into the land itself. Somwhere through the din a man cried out for mercy.
Captain Roswell Orl could not tell what happened next, but he felt a huge weight crush his bones as he lied down helpless. His vision darkened. Through red creeping at his sight, he saw 300 Marines crash throught the heavens on wings of holy fire. O r were they angels? The captain smiled to himself. Yes. They were the Angels Of Death.
This peice of fiction I wrote tells of a battle between my guard and Black Templars against alot of Nids. I just thought it would be an interesting look into what normally would be seen as another ordinary mega-battle
