Death of the Raven - Wargaming Forum and Wargamer Forums
Original Works All user written fiction from any Games Workshop setting should be posted here. Please use the drop-downs to denote which setting your story belongs.

 
LinkBack Thread Tools Display Modes
post #1 of 3 (permalink) Old 01-25-12, 09:25 AM Thread Starter
Junior Member
 
ExchangedHades's Avatar
ExchangedHades's Flag is: Scotland
 
Join Date: Dec 2011
Location: Sunny Scotland..... who am I kidding?
Posts: 29
Reputation: 1
Default Death of the Raven

This is a story based off a game I played not long back where we attempted to do the Massacre, game didn't go well, but you know, some characters are worth remembering lol.
_______________________________________________
Istavaan V
Raven Guard Legion
Captain Adrian Lor
Eighth Company

The Sons of Horus kept order as they pulled back from the frontline, allowing the World Eaters to charge forth into melee with the Raven Guard vanguard units. The power armour looked like it had been repainted from the blue and white to a deep crimson, and done so with blood. Lor could well believe it, he had seen the World Eaters charge forward without fear a number of times, leaving their dead where they fell, and so focussed on killing that some did not seem to feel the wounds inflicted upon them. Lor had watched Angron cleave a bloody swathe from the assault, leaving dozens of Iron Hands, Salamanders, and Raven Guard lying in congealing pools of their blood. Lor unleashed a hail of rounds from his bolt pistol into the faces of a squad of World Eaters leaping over the trenches between them and the Raven Guard, the bolters of the Raven Guard firing in controlled bursts between the squads, while the World Eaters charged without firing, as though so caught up in the bloodlust they forgot they had weapons.


“For the Emperor and Deliverance!” roared Lor, leaping forward with his power sword crackling with energy.


The cry was taken up by his remaining squad members, and the Raven Guard leapt to meet the foe. Black armoured giants leapt over the ruined sandbag emplacements to meet the blood caked butchers charging forward with cries to some “blood god”. Chain weapons revved, boltguns barked, plasma weapon hissed, and Astartes fell. Lor punctured the helm of a World Eater with a single round through the right lens, the body not even having time to fall before another World Eater barged it aside, and Lor cleaved the same warrior in two with a two handed strike from his blade. The Raven Guard clashed with the World Eaters, and the sounds of battle echoed all around them, the sounds of weapons clashing, and ceramite scraping, and of Astartes dying. Some fell without a sound, their throats slashed, or the heads removed, others fell kicking and screaming as they fought with every ounce of their strength. Lor ducked under the sweep of a chainaxe, and kicked out against the warrior, giving himself the space he needed to bring his blade up against the warrior. The chainaxe descended again, and met the energised power sword, the teeth tearing apart against the energy field, and Lor pushed against the warrior with all his strength to dislodge him. Spinning on the balls of his feet, he slashed the blade across the calves of his opponent, and swung his weapon back to remove the troublesome chainaxe, along with the hand holding it. The World Eater roared curses and praises to some “corn” creature, and Lor silenced him with a single bolt round through the vox grille.


“The Iron Hands are advancing!” shouted someone from a different Raven Guard squad nearby.


“Focus on your own battle, push the rebels back and advance in support!” snapped Lor, cleaving a World Eater in two, the same World Eater who had cut down a member of his squad from behind.


“Yes brother captain,” said the Raven Guard, firing from the hip with his boltgun.


Despite his words, Lor was surprised the Iron Hands had pushed through so quickly, if they were facing the same amount of resistance as the Raven Guard, then their losses must be terrible. Looking past the melee which was dying down as the last dozen of World Eaters were being put down, Lor saw a handful of Death Guard squads leaving heavy weapons towards the Raven Guard, heavy bolters and lascannons from the looks of the bulky weapons.


“Heavy weapons to the fore, assault teams strike now!” shouted Lor, marking the Death Guard squads with his visor.


“Descent of the Raven!” roared sergeant Julian, his voice accompanied with the howl of jetpacks as the two assault teams assigned to his command leapt from behind the Eighth tactical squads, firing the bolt pistols as they descended upon the Death Guard.


Sporadic fire rained upwards from the heavy weapon squads, slaying maybe two brothers before the Raven Guard landed upon them, chain swords slashing against the hampered devastators. His attention back upon the last couple of World Eaters in the midst of his squads, Lor was pleased to see they were effectively dead; at least forty World Eaters lay in different areas of the field, with the bodies of eighteen Raven Guard lying amongst them, Lor assigned a squad to separate their dead from the rebels, and await the Apothecaries to remove the gene-seed, leaving himself with eighty-two Astartes not including the Assault squads. Charging up in support, his warriors laying down suppressive fields of fire upon the handful of Death Guard trying to bring their weapons up to bear, the Raven Guard descended upon them. The assault squads had effectively removed the heavy weapon threat, having slain half the Death Guard before the tactical squads arrived, unleashing concentrated bursts of fire into those separate from the melee, and Lor’s charged ended them altogether. Seven assault marines had fallen in total, four would not rise again, and the other three were too badly injured to serve a strategic purpose. Lor watched the Sons of Horus and Death Guard falling back from his Company, the World Eaters were too caught up in their bloodlust that they were surrounded and gunned down without any severe losses. The rebels were in full retreat from the Raven Guard, and the Stormbirds of the other four Legions were descending even as the Iron Hands pushed forward.


“Hawk Lord to Raven King, eastern trench line secured, advancing in support of Iron Hands,” said Lor, sending the message through a secure channel direct to Corax.


“Negative, the reinforcements are arriving, pull back to the landing zone, and prepare for the relief force, our brothers require their share of glory this day,” were Corax’s words.


“But lord! The Iron Hands are alone out there! The Salamanders are already pulling back from the line, and we cannot leave them alone out there!” snapped Lor, forgetting it was effectively his father he was talking to.


“I know that Adrian! But we cannot advance without a resupply at least! We’ve lost many warriors today, let our brothers tend to their wounds and armour, now fall back to the dropsite,” answered Corax, his tone brokering no argument.


“Eighth shall fall back,” said Lor, looking at the state of his warriors.


Each warrior bore many scars of the battles they fought to get here, some warriors had discarded the ruins of their shoulder guards, others had removed their helmets, two warriors had discarded the chest plates of their armour, and had taking the chest plates of fallen brothers to replace them. He turned back from his warriors, and watched the Iron Hands battling alone in the sea of rebels, and a sight he never thought he could see before, Ferrus Manus duelling with Fulgrim, battling as hard as any of their sons, the sight brought a tear to his eye, but then his attention was caught by the sudden launch of a single flare from the bastion of the rebels. In response, thousands of boltguns roared from the dropsite, and the vox erupted with screams and curses. The Iron Warriors, the Word Bearers, the Night Lords, and the Alpha Legion fired not at the rebels, for the distance was too great, they fired at the Salamanders and the Raven Guard, whose warriors were already battle-worn. Hundreds fell, and as Lor watched in horror at the atrocity happening behind him, he turned back to the rebel forces who had moments ago, been in retreat, turn back and advance with withering salvos of firepower, and the Eighth hunkered down and returned fire with what ammunition they could. Lor screamed his disbelief at the traitors behind him, spitting curses upon the Legions who were supposed to reinforce them, he could hear the chatter of his brothers ordering the deaths of their once allies, but as the seconds drowned away, Lor could hear less and less voices he knew.


“Death or Glory,” he whispered, almost to himself, walking down from the trench line he stood upon towards the World Eaters charging up towards him.


His company echoed his words, and rose from the trenches, firing their boltguns with precision even as the rounds of the enemy struck them. The Eighth roared and chanted songs that had once been sung to them by their fathers and the hundred and fifteen Raven Guard marched towards certain death, weapons blazing as they died. The Sons of Horus and the Death Guard ceased firing as the World Eaters closed, and the true butchery began. Lor twisted aside from an overhead strike, sliding the energised blade through the warrior with ease, pulling the blade free before carving it through the waist of the next warrior who appeared before him. Julian landed in front of him, his power fist pulping the head of a World Eater who knocked a Raven Guard aside with ease. He spun on the spot, and caved the chest of another World Eater with a brutal back handed swing. Lor saluted the warrior as he helped the fallen Raven Guard to his feet, and his eyes widened in anger as a plasma bolt slammed into Julian’s chest, knocking the warrior off his feet. Turning in the direction of the shot, he could see a lone World Eater surrounded by seven black armoured corpses, each one hacked to death by the monstrous chainaxe held in its right hand, the plasma pistol clasped in its left hissing as it vented excess heat. Lor recognised the warrior, having fought with him multiple times in the past, and he had dared to hope that he had remained true to his oaths, and died with the other loyalists on Istavaan III. Khárn of the World Eaters stood above his fallen brothers, and the warrior screamed his praises to the same corn creature, and leapt forward towards Lor, his plasma pistol firing again.


Lor twisted, avoiding the shot by a couple of centimetres, his armour hissing as a sliver of plasma stuck to it. Lor cared not, and leapt forward to meet Khárn, this time not in a practice cage, this time he was here to fight to the death. His anger rose to the fore as he watched Khárn carve messily through two more Raven Guard as he charged, the bodies falling with their boltguns firing as the fingers completed the last messages they had received before the head vanished. Khárn fired another burst of plasma past Lor, and out of the corner of his eye, Lor saw a Death Guard wielding a mighty scythe fall, his face a cauterized crater. Keeping his eyes on Khárn, Lor fired his bolt pistol at the two World Eaters following their captain, slaying one with a lucky shot that had struck a weakened piece of the chestplate. The second stumbled, but regained its footing, but then it faced another Raven Guard who bore it to the ground, a combat blade penetrating the lens of its helmet.


After what had in reality been a few seconds, but felt like agonisingly longer, the two captains met one another in combat, the great chainaxe screaming as it met the blade of Lor, the raven winged hilt sparking as the teeth of the axe carved through the energy field. Khárn brought his pistol around, and Lor used his left hand to knock it back, his hand gripping the wrist of Khárn, who screamed incoherently, before planting his foot against Lor’s chest, and pushing with all his might. Refusing to let the World Eater have a chance to swing the axe again, Lor pushed back, the mud beneath the two warriors becoming slippery as they fought each other’s strength. Lor could hear less gunshots now, and a quick check with his tactical display told him everything, the Eighth had been whittled down to a mere twenty-one active fighters, each one chanting the songs of Deliverance, each one fighting with all his might. Twisting himself aside from the axe, Lor smashed his elbow into Khárn’s helmeted face, before twisting the wrist powerfully, causing the nerveless fingers to drop the dangerous weapon. Surprising Lor, Khárn wretched his injured hand away, relocating the bones with a casual flick of his wrist. He swung his axe again, missing Lor’s face by a finger’s width. Bringing his own blade up, Lor blocked the following strike, the teeth of the over-powered chain axe carving into the blade itself, screaming hungrily as it removed segments of the hilt as well. Khárn let go of his axe, letting it buck and bounce, using both his hands to pummel Lor’s chest and head, and Lor relented, releasing his own weapon and letting them both fall to the ground. He slammed his knee into Khárn’s groin, then gripped him by the gorget of his armour, and lifted him into the air, bringing him down heavily onto his head, the thick mud softening the landing that would’ve broken the World Eater’s neck had it gained sufficient momentum.


Leaping atop the prone World Eater, Lor pummelled Khárn’s helmet, shattering the left lens, and caving in the vox grille. He kept at it, the World Eater’s arms pinned under the Raven Guard’s legs, unable to block the strikes but also unable to strike back. Lor let out all his anger against Khárn, his gauntlets shattered with the effort, Khárn’s own helmet now a ruin, and Lor worked at removing it, throwing the wreckage aside to see the blood spattered snarling features of his once good friend.


“I would’ve died for you Khárn!” he shouted, echoing it with a powerful strike against the World Eater’s jaw.


“I would’ve fought back to back with you against anyone!” another strike.


“I would’ve faced the horrors of the galaxy with you!” another strike, with the cracking of bone.


“But you betrayed me when you betrayed the Emperor! And for those heresies, I shall kill you!”


Lor gripped the plasma pistol that had once been Khárn’s, and placed the barrel against the right temple of the World Eater, sadness in his eyes as the weapon hummed with power. His finger teased around the trigger, the humming becoming louder, and then blood splattered the ground before him, as well as Khárn. His hand loosened around the plasma pistol, and he struggled to his feet slowly, his muscles tired of the effort Khárn had put him through. Turning around, he could see dozens of World Eaters surrounding him, with Sons of Horus and Death Guard mixed between them, a single figure stood before them, a massively armoured warrior, and the colours of his terminator armour belonging to some black legion. The giant top knot on his head being the only recognisable asset to Lor, Abaddon of the First Company of the Sons of Horus, held a smoking twin-linked bolter in his hand, and Lor removed his helmet, and placed his hand against his chest, pulling it back to see the dark crimson spread over his fingers. He fell to his knees, and Abaddon strode over, the figures of several similar armoured warriors barging through the knot of rebels. Lor looked up into the eyes of his killer, and he felt nothing but sympathy for the warrior, all he could see for this man was war, war for ten thousand years, even Astartes weren’t bred to fight that long. Lor spat blood to the ground, his eyes fixated on the barrel of the bolter as it rose to level with his face. He would die for the Emperor, and he would die like a Raven Guard. Surging up suddenly, Lor grabbed the barrel and pointed it away from him as it fired, the single bolt striking a terminator in the face, finding some weakness, and penetrating, felling the warrior heavily. Lor smashed his fist into the unprotected head of Abaddon again and again, before his power fist gripped him and threw him to the ground. Without a word, Abaddon turned and strode away with his other terminators, and the crowd of rebels descended upon him once more.


More than a kilometre away, Corax watched the fall of Lor with sadness in his eyes, he turned back to the pitiful number of Raven Guard hurrying through the small passes that lead away from the Depression. He looked back across the Depression, and could see no sign of the Salamanders, or his brother Vulkan. He felt sadness at the loss of Ferrus Manus, but even that was undone by the loss of so many of his sons. He looked back to where Lor had fought with the Eighth, and was shocked to see the rebels hefting an unarmoured body above them, a body that fought with a feeble amount of effort. With his eyesight, Corax could see it was Lor they lifted away, and his anger came to the fore again. With a few clipped commands to his few surviving commanders, Corax leapt away on plumes of fire, leaving the shattered Legion to leave without him for now.


Khárn watched as the Emperor’s Children taunted his once friend, moving in close to laugh in his face and spit upon him, and backing away with mock fear etched on their faces. He spat a wad of something bloody onto the pile of scavenged armour, the wad landing neatly on the shoulder guard of a fallen Emperor’s Child. The pile of dead loyalists had grown tremendously, and their armour was piled in separate areas, the weapons were cast around and claimed as trophies. Khárn watched as another Emperor’s Child wandered close, and showed true shock when the Raven Guard pounced upon him, his hands clasped together around the neck, before wrenching it heavily to one side, breaking the neck of the foolish Astartes. The Astartes fell heavily to the ground, and Lor pulled at the chain around his neck, before the Emperor’s Children descended upon him. Barking an order to several World Eaters nearby, Khárn dived upon the Emperor’s Children, pummelling and carving them apart as he forced them off his one-time friend. His brethren then appeared, forcing the Emperor’s Children away, chain-weapons revving as the formed a circle around their captain and the Raven Guard.


“Why save me now Khárn?” muttered Lor, his hands gripped around the hilt of a combat blade that had been thrust into his chest.


“I ain’t saving you,” answered Khárn, facing Lor once more, both their faces scarred beyond what they had once been.


“Good, cause I’d hate to owe you anything now,” spat Lor, coughing up blood.


“You are worthy of remembrance Adrian, and for that, you should not be toyed with like this, I’m repaying you for not killing me earlier,” said Khárn, a sense of honour passing between himself and Lor.


Without warning, the ground erupted with dust and the cries of his World Eaters rung in his ears, he caught a glimpse of a sword, and swung his axe to deflect it, the force still launched him backwards. The dust settled somewhat, and Khárn saw what had landed clearly, Corvus Corax, Lord of the Raven Guard, Saviour of Deliverance, and the bodies of all the World Eaters who had followed Khárn lay where they had fallen, without ever sighting their foe. With a single swing, Corax cut Lor’s chain, and with his jetpack, leapt off into the air, with alarms and sporadic bolt-fire chasing him, the Raven Guard primarch left with his prize. Several Night Lords jetpack squads leapt after him, their pistols barking.


Lor coughed again, his vision blurring as Corax gripped him to his chest. His gene-father had sheathed his sword, and was leaping backwards now, firing a scavenged bolter into the Night Lords pursuing him, downing one with every shot. Lor gripped a fragmentation grenade from his gene-father’s equipment belt, and primed with a single fluid motion, holding it slightly longer than he should, he let it go randomly, and was pleased to see three Night Lords engulfed with the resulting explosion. Two fell away to their deaths, their jet packs ruined, the third managed to stay air-borne with a screaming jet pack that whined before every leap. Reduced to half their number, the Night Lords let their quarry escape.


“Why’d you come back for me?” struggled Lor, every word a battle just as hard as the dropsite massacre.


“I never leave a son behind who I know is alive, I witnessed them dragging you away, and refused to let you be left for their wicked designs,” answered Corax, leaping from one high peak to another.


“You should’ve stayed with the rest, made sure they got away,” whispered Lor, pulling the combat blade away from his body.


“Aye I should’ve, but you know, you hardly listened to me, I hardly listen to you,” said Corax with a smile, knowing full well Lor would not survive that injury for much longer.


“Well I was right, just like Camdu Prime,” laughed Lor, his hand clasped across his wounded chest.


Camdu Prime had been a hard fight by anyone’s standards. The xenos there had managed to overcome the drop zone without word reaching the Astartes, so upon returning to resupply, they found their own weapons used against them, and it had been Lor’s order to leave behind several squads of terminators, but Corax had denied him this, for he felt the terminators would be of more use at the front.


“Shut up Adrian, before I sit you atop this peak and leave you for the crows,” said Corax, unable to help but smile.


“Just because you know I’m right,” whispered Lor, his head lolling forward, his breathing ceasing.


Corax knew his son had died there and then, just as the first of the Raven Guard rearguard came into view. He could see two white armoured warriors with them, and could not help but disagree with fate at letting a warrior hold on so long and then let go just as help crested the hills. Few Apothecaries had managed to survive the massacre behind them, the rebels having targeted them more than others, but those few that did remain had the gene-seed of many of their brethren, but not all. Many Raven Guard would never fight again now, neither in legacy or person. Lor, thankfully, would not be one of these, and as Corax landed just before the Apothecaries, he could hear the cries of the handful of Eighth who had broken through the rebel lines and regrouped with the remainder of the Legion.


“I will stop at nothing to avenge this massacre my sons, and for the fallen, I shall reap a bloody tally through my brother’s own sons. The Sons of Horus shall fear the Raven Guard, for when we strike from the shadows, we shall leave nothing but flames and death behind us,” he said, and earned a small cheer from the handful of survivors.

AHAHAHAHAHAHA DEAD MARINES EVERYWHERE! -Dreadnought craves its way through wall- OHHHHHHHHHHHH A BIGGER DEAD MARINE!
Jonas to me during our battle of the Midnight Fangs against the smurfs..... Uh, Ultramarines.
ExchangedHades is offline  
Sponsored Links
Advertisement
 
post #2 of 3 (permalink) Old 01-28-12, 03:23 AM
Boondock Shogun
 
Shogun_Nate's Avatar
Shogun_Nate's Flag is: USA
 
Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Tigertown, Texas
Posts: 2,023
Reputation: 1
Default

Nice story bud! Sometimes games give birth to the best stories as you've got something to base it off of! Will you be basing more stories off of this (or future games) or is this just a 'one-off' story?

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate

"If you can't stun them with your tactical brilliance, baffle them with your superior grasp of BS."

"I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed man."

Quote:
Originally Posted by TheAllFather View Post
Well, seeing as how you capitalize your characters, use proper grammar and punctuation, I'd say you qualify.
Shogun_Nate is offline  
post #3 of 3 (permalink) Old 01-30-12, 10:16 AM Thread Starter
Junior Member
 
ExchangedHades's Avatar
ExchangedHades's Flag is: Scotland
 
Join Date: Dec 2011
Location: Sunny Scotland..... who am I kidding?
Posts: 29
Reputation: 1
Default

I'm not sure yet, I may try to get another Dropsite Massacre game going, and see if I can get a Death Guard version, or possibly Angron... but that would be a short one....

"I see red..... everything dead =D" <_< Angron version finsihed.

AHAHAHAHAHAHA DEAD MARINES EVERYWHERE! -Dreadnought craves its way through wall- OHHHHHHHHHHHH A BIGGER DEAD MARINE!
Jonas to me during our battle of the Midnight Fangs against the smurfs..... Uh, Ultramarines.
ExchangedHades is offline  
Reply

  Lower Navigation
Go Back   Wargaming Forum and Wargamer Forums > Fiction, Art and Roleplay Game Discussion > Original Works

Quick Reply
Message:
Options

Register Now



In order to be able to post messages on the Wargaming Forum and Wargamer Forums forums, you must first register.
Please enter your desired user name, your email address and other required details in the form below.

User Name:
Password
Please enter a password for your user account. Note that passwords are case-sensitive.

Password:


Confirm Password:
Email Address
Please enter a valid email address for yourself.

Email Address:
OR

Log-in










Thread Tools
Show Printable Version Show Printable Version
Email this Page Email this Page
Display Modes
Linear Mode Linear Mode



Posting Rules  
You may post new threads
You may post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off
Trackbacks are On
Pingbacks are On
Refbacks are On

 
For the best viewing experience please update your browser to Google Chrome