Join Date: May 2009
Location: South Carolina, USA
The wet taste of the beast’s grey matter on my pallet is sickening, I have to fight down the instinctive urge to spit the foul pulp onto the holo table before me.
Slowly, I chew and let my body do the wonders it was designed for.
I can feel the speed, hot and fierce, as the trukk bellow me bucks and swerves in the pack. My driver snarls and makes a side swipe at the bike beside us, forcing it to careen away in a cloud of dust and curses. I howl the joy it brings to the winds of this world.
Hummies. Good fight with much in the way of plunder awaits. Boss always picks good runs.
I hear him barking orders from his place at the lead of the pack, and feel the envy of his massive trukk as my driver breaks away from the group.
Go. Hunt. Find something worth our name to bring back.
Boss always picks the good runs.
I can see the hummie city down by the wet stuff, I growl my desire to be moving and not sitting here… watching.
The skyline lights up and I snarl.
My boys whoop and shout as the hummie city is no more. Flame and fire from the sky.
I glance up and see the massive hulk overhead.
I feel my lips draw back in a grin as I reach over to slap my driver on the back of his head.
Time to move.
His deep green skin is a mess of tattoos and markings, bared to all so they can see his power.
I growl under my breath; he has done well but I could do better…
He catches me looking his way and laughs from the back of his trukk, the huge talkie array towering behind him.
Eh, he’s Boss, for now, until I get stronger.
Something else rises from the depths of the xeno’s memories.
It uncoils, serpentine and distinctly other, from the bestial emotions that colour the orkish thoughts.
A serpent wreathed in cerulean flames burns brightly in my mind.
I open my eyes. I had not realized that I had closed them.
I can feel the growl of displeasure at this slip from between my bared teeth. My breath is tight and hot, my body reacting to the urge to do violence by triggering the combat stims in my armour’s reserves.
I hear a loud crack and glance down to see the edge of the stone table shattered under my grip.
Slowly, with far more difficulty than I care to admit, I uncurl each of my fingers from where they have indented into the fractured stone.
I lift my helm from the surface of the table and lock it back into place with more force than necessary. My vision washing red and runes tracking across the room looking for targets.
My heartrate flickers at the edge of my vision, my secondary heart joining the thunder of my primary as it approaches battle height.
I can feel my lips pull back and another wet growl curl inside my helm.
Suddenly, I step away from the table, my eyes locked on the bisected skull of the xeno brute leaking blood across the surface.
This rage is animal, feral.
The phantom sensation of human bones breaking under my black clad gauntlets makes me salivate.
I shake my head and speak the words of a litany of Hatred of the Alien with a wet growl to my voice.
I cannot face the humans like this or it will not be xenos that dig their graves.
It is not adversity itself that makes one great, it is our actions when faced with hardship that define us. Never forget your purpose. Never forget the oaths you have made and why you made them.