This is continuing on from a setting in my other posted short story which can be found here:https://www.heresy-online.net/forums/...711#post450711
Feel free to criticize or leave comments.
The sky was ablaze over the war-torn battlefield of the Cyran Plains on Reghaard V. The screams of the dying creating a morbid symphony that filled the air, while the ground was lit by the flashes of gunfire. The once grassy field was now covered with the bodies of the heroes of the Imperium. With a boom a mortar shell landed within meters of Brother-Captain Rorak of the Harbingers of War chapter and the remains of his once proud 2nd company.
“Captain, we must evacuate the battlefield now before we are trapped by the traitors!” said Brother Isael.
“No! We are the Harbingers of War! We never retreat and we shall defend this spot till we breathe our last. The blood of Dorn flows through our veins and we shall uphold his honor with our lives. Any of you who so dare, may make for the base camp, but you go knowing that you disgrace the Primarch and yourselves.”
His fellow Harbingers began to bristle at the thought of dishonoring the Progenitor.
“We stand upon the threshold of death, but we will die with honor, knowing that we are taking the enemies of Mankind to the grave as well. We shall be remembered by our chapter for ages, for the bravery shown in the face of certain defeat. They try to cow us, make us flee before them; but they shall never succeed. For we are the Emperor’s chosen and we shall know no fear! I ask for men to follow me to the abyss, are you with me!”
In unison the gathered Marines shouted “Yes!”
The traitors began to converge upon their position.
“Onwards Marines, for the glory of the Imperium. For the Emperor!”
Like a tidal wave the Emperor’s chosen crashed amongst the traitors, tearing through them with no regards for their lives. Rorak spearheaded the assault slashing left and right with his power sword, severing limbs and torsos in a frenzy. He gazed upon his next target and quickly lunged upon the Chaos Marine. He deftly parried a blow aimed at his head, knocking aside the Word Bearer’s chainsword. Before his weapon could be brought to bear, Rorak severed the traitors hand while catching the falling weapon in one fluid motion. Blood began to pulse out of the stump, strands of gore hanging down flapping in the slight breeze that blew across the plains. Frozen with shock his foe didn’t even notice as Rorak’s blades flew toward his neck.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a Chaos Marine in the back of the Word Bearers squadrons, with a helm carved into the form of a daemonic face with gems represent its eyes. Minuscule strands of lightning arced around his bared hands, which were covered in ritual scars.
“Die Sorcerer!” screamed Rorak as he bounded swiftly across the ground. With a sneer the traitor raised his hand and an arc of lightning shot forth into the chest of the brave Captain. He grunted in pain as warning signals appeared all across his retina, the systems in his armor close to overloading. He began to slow as the damage took its toll. Again and again the lightning burst forth from the hands of the Word Bearer yet despite wounds that would have killed a normal man one hundred times over, Rorak continued to stalk toward his prey. Eventually the systems in his armor failed, and he forged onward fuelled by nothing but his faith in the Emperor. With one last desperate leap he stabbed his power sword into the breast of the gaping sorcerer.
He began to slump to his knees, the wounds the traitor had inflicted slowly draining away his life. As his eyes started to close he took one last look upon his Marines as they fought and died. Even though they had been defeated he had never felt more triumphant. They were dying, yet they died as befitted the Emperor’s Chosen.