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post #1 of 1 (permalink) Old 03-21-10, 10:36 PM Thread Starter
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Default Valley of Blood

Alright, this is what I have of a story i'm writing, Valley of Blood. It's an IG story focusing on a budding Commissar.

A Warhammer 40,000 Novel
Valley of Blood

Commissar Alexi Phaeron rushed forwards, chainsword in hand. He pressed his thumb down on the activation rune as he jumped slightly to the left, avoiding a small burst of ruby red lasfire.
"Pro Imperator!" He yelled as he slashed the whirring blade at his foe. The traitor vainly raised his lasgun to defelct, but it was simply cut in half along with him. two more traitors ran towaords him, wielding large axes. Phaeron grinned as he saw them,
"Death to traitors!" he roared as he unholstered his bolt pistol, took aim and fired. Blowing one traitor's hand off, his axe falling with the tide of blood. The other traitor faltered at this, and that was all he needed, he quickly sprinted up and went for a slash at the man's knees. He jumped back parrying with the axe as the second traitor stood cradling his ruined arm. Phaeron swung his chainsword at the traitor's head, and he tried to block only succeding in locking the weapons together. Commissar Phaeron grinned wolfishly, pressing his pistol into the traitor's stomache.
"Please, I-" was all the heretic managed before Phaeron fired, silencing him and his blasphamies forever. He turned to face the the other traitor, sobbing in pain on the ground. Phaeron sighed in disgust.
Cowards. He thought, all of them merely misguided fools. He pressed the pistol into the man's forehead and pulled the trigger.

Commisar Phaeron walked through the huge camp remembering that day long ago, when he first faced the enemies of the Imperium.
That had been decades ago.
Now he was watching his regiment fall apart piece by piece, one unit, one Guardsmen at a time. He sighed and pulled off his black high-peaked Commissariat cap, brushing a gloved hand through his greying hair. Memories can wait, duty cannot.
He walked into the command tent, the air was tense. General Karrimen was mortaly injured, and no one knew what they would do with out his ingenius traps and ploys; they had been all that had been keeping the 23rd Lafayette alive this winter.
"Welcome back Commissar, have you heard the news?" Said a young officer sitting in a chair around the large briefing room table. A platoon commander by the looks of it. he thought.
"Yes, yes I have." He said quickly, taking a seat opposite the man. A Platoon Commander? At a high rank briefing? We're sinking lower than ever before! He thought angrily, why won't they send us those reinforcements? Before he could continue this train of thought, the General's aide stepped out of Karrimen's quarters followed by a medica. Their faces were grim. Oh no he thought, he's dead? Oh Throne! how will we keep the Traitors at bay?
Then the aide spoke in a dark voice. "Gentlemen, General Karrimen is dead. His last orders were to hold this line until we, or the enemy are dead. And that, gentlemen, is what we shall do."
"But how? We have less than eight hundred men here!" The Platoon Commander chimed in. "The enemy forces have millions of men under their command!"
"Captain Karrovich, Numbers mean noth-" The man beside the officer started to say before an explosian flared up next to the tent, sending shrapnel flying into the man's brain. He collapsed onto the table as the other officers stood up, drawing their side arms. Phaeron sprang up and headed outside as more explosians killed men and officers, destroyed equipment and caused havoc among the Guardsmen.
"Holy Terra...They out flanked us!" Phaeron said, amazed as an entire Armoured coloumn, with the mark of Chaos etched onto every hull drove into the camp. Firing shells while blasting profane blasphamies into the air. He sprinted into a nearby bunker as explosians blasted the earth around him tens of metres into the air.
Inside the bunker a gaggle of conscripted men huddled together, Phaeron walked over to the group, glaring at them.
"Get up." He said angrliy "Now!". He picked up the nearest one by the hair, and threw him towards the entrance "Get up cowards! The enemies of the Emperor are at our doorstep! Is this how the Imperium faces it's foes? By huddling in a corner?"
"But, sir? how do we fi-" A soldier began before Phaeron shot him in the head.
"The Imperium does not sit in a corner and cry! It faces it's enemies with a sword in it's hand! And a prayer to the Emperor on it's lips!" Commisar Phaeron shouted over the cascading shells of the Arch-enemy. "Men, tonight we either die gloryously fighting in the name of the Emperor, or we fight and live, to fight another day!". At this last statement, the fear stricken soldiers grabbed thier lasguns and cheered. "For the Emperor!" Phaeron yelled as he ran out the bunker entrance, with 12 Guardsmen behind him.
Phaeron rushed towards the nearest enemy tank, a Leman Russ with marks of the Ruinous Powers hastily scrawled on it. Dodging the small puffs in the ground that were all around him; scrambled on top and turned. Three of the men lay on the ground, torn up by heavy stubber fire. Staining the perfect marble white snow a deathly pink. Phaeron turned towards the hatch on the turret as it opened and a man in a gas mask came up, saw Phaeron and scrambled for his side arm. But Phaeron was faster; and the man's chest exploded outwards as the bolt detonated in his chest cavity. One less traitor he thought, as he moved up towards the turret. Another man came up to the cupola as well, He looked young, and would have been a handsome man if it wasn't for the scar running down the left side of his face; leaving only an empty eye socket instead of a beutifal emerald eye. The man turned to him and grinned; pulling out a frag grenade.
"See you in hell!" he shouted into the tank as he pulled the pin and dropped the grenade into the tank. They both dropped off the tank and sprinted away, Phaeron turned and saw a puff of smoke coming from the tank's cupola.
"Good work man." Phaeron said to the man "Let's move, there are more of those to destroy!"
"I don't think we have to do that" The man said, pointing to a baneblade and 6 Leman Russ Battle Tanks coming out of the camp's 'stables' as the men called it "They can handle that.".
"What's your name trooper?"
"Trooper First Class Anastas Aran" He said, grinning and brushing a gloved hand through his short black hair "And who the hell are you?".
"Commissar Alexi Phaeron" He said sternly "And you will adress me as Commissar". He's not from Lafayette Phaeron thought, he must be a replacment from the local area! He looked Trooper Aran top to bottom, pausing when he saw the man's bayanet tied to his wrist.
"What is tha-" was all he could say before a flaming Leman Russ Executioner drove into the Baneblade's side,erupting a massive explosian as the plasma reactor broke down. As the Baneblade burned, three crewman jumped out of a hatch on the oppisite side. One was the tank commander, the group of men began running towards Phaeron and Anastas.
Anastas looked at Phaeron "Let's go!" He said with a grin, as he rushed frowards across the frozen earth towards the tank crew.
He's insane. Phaeron thought, then dashed after him.

Alexi Phaeron walked up the seventy seven steps to the great door. He was nervous, but he did not show it. He stayed as strait and tall as possible, his long blonde hair was combed back, his large black trenchcoat was perfeclty straitend and his boots were polished to a shine. He stopped before the doors, took his black Aquila topped Commissariat issue cap and put it on his head, breathed a prayer to the Emperor to calm his nerves and pushed open the mighty doors, sealing his fate. His destiny now belonged to the Immortal Emperor of Mankind. The room was large and lit only by torches, the senior Commissars stood to attension before him. The stood in two lines holding thier sabers infront of them selves, standing perfectly like the statues of Commissars on the outsides of the Schola Progenium. As he walked down the line the Commissars all raised thier blades to form a 'roof' of blades down the lane. As he passed, each senior Commissar nodded slightly to him. This day has finally come, I am ready! He thought. As he reached the end of the passage of blades, another Commissar approached him from the darkness holding a long narrow box in his hands, he turned to face Phaeron and opened the box. Inside was a long, sleek saber with a golden handguard. He pulled out the saber, handed the box to an ajundent and layed the saber across his palms and held it towards Phaeron...

The snow fell lightly over the camp, freezing the corpses solid to the ground. Commissar Alexi Phaeron looked at the carnage of the battle, remembering the day he became a Commissar. The day he took up the sword and swore to fight for the Imperium and the Emperor, when he became who he was today. The blade had been purely ceremonial, and would not have lasted a single heavy blow. He looked down at his Chainsword in it's scabard, it gave him reasurance that it was there. He turned to face the men who had followed him into battle, forty-three men. The only ones who had survived with him during the 3 day siege of the camp, since then they were pushed into the forest on the south side of the destroyed camp, sixty seven kilometres behind the new front lines formed after the enemie's massed armoured attack. He knew that they would not last another charge of cultists. They needed to fall back to the spaceport city of Haerton and wait for reinforcements. Phaeron was certain they could do it, it's only 67 kilometres away!
"Gentlemen" Phaeron said, gaining their attension immeditaly "The enemy has pushed us back, destroyed our base and almost annilated us. Currently, there is but 67 kilometres between us and our goal, our only hope. Those 67 kilometres are filled with hundreds of enemy soldiers, tanks and artillary. We have no support, low ammunition and few supplies. We are only fourty three men, but that only means nothing! We may be outnumbered seventy to one, but that means nothing! You are Guardsmen, Imperial Guardsmen! And I expect nothing but the best from you. If you fail, I will pass judgement as I see fit. I am your commander, and you have the honour of serving under me now! We will make our way through the enemy lines, sabatoging their warmachines and assassinating their commanders as the oppourtunity arrives. Pack up, and take everything you can carry...It's going to be a cold night.."
The hours past by uneventfully at first, until the men bagan reporting movement in the woods surronding them. Phaeron had at first simply told the men it was their imaginations, but that had changed when he saw one himself. It was humanoid, but shorter than a man. They seemed to haunt the group as they moved through the woods. Phaeron thought back to training, but could not idtentify what they were.
"Alexi, you need to see this." Anastas said in a low voice to Phaeron. He never calls me Commissar Phaeron thought, following him to an area of the woods.
"By the Emperor..." Phaeron said said to himself. Infront of him was a grisly scene, four Guardsmen torn to pieces littered the ground. They were already partly decayed, despite the fact they were covered in a layer of ice. Phaeron looked into the eyes of one of the dead men, the soldier's face was half remaining, the other half completely decayed. He stared in awe as the body slowly stood up. He stared in horror as it lurched towards him. He stared in terror when he saw the evil glow in it's empty eye socket.
Commissar Alexi Phaeron drew his chainsword in hatred of the archenemy. Commissar Alexi Phaeron hacked the monstrosity into pieces in rightous fury. Commissar Alexi Phaeron rushed forwards as the other bodies stood up. Commissar Alexi Phaeron destroyed the horrors of Chaos in the name of the Emperor.

C&C are welcome!

IRON WITHIN! IRON WITHOUT!
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