Ok, my third sotry, this one just hit me lick a brick. please leave feed back, this is just the start
Marcus Gravadovich sat back on his hover-tractor as it harvested the wheat below him in his field. He stared at the beautiful sky above him, felt the cool breeze as it flowed across his face; the sweet smell filling his nostrils. He heard the hum of the machinery below him as it churned out the wheat into clumped packages and dumping them unceremoniously into the truck driving opposite of him. Yes, today was a good day to be alive and he prayed to the Emperor that it would remain so.
He turned over to the truck hollering to his field hand. “Hey Mike, that good enough for today, cut it and head in.” his field hand waved, and turned the truck off towards the farmstead off in the distance as he shut down the mechanisms that grinded the wheat and put the machine on an autopilot course for the farm stead. He blessed the machinery, in hopes that the holy Omissah would watch over it, and return it safely to its berth in his barn.
He jogged over to his tarrak (a breed of Tallarn horse, only larger) and galloped to where his herd was huddled; work them back toward the barn over the next two hours. Finally, having gotten them into their corral, Marcus walked into his house where he was greeted by his son and daughter, grabbing them both and lifting them into the air. Kissing them both, he moved over to his lovely wife, kissing her and then sampling her fine cooking.
“Delicious as always dear, now give me some more of that loving.” Giving her another kiss, he called in his field hand together they sat down and ate dinner with the family. Afterwards they got the children into bed, giving prayers to the Emperor for their good life, and finally settling into bed.
As he sat there he looked at his wife as she dressed for bed, realizing what a luck man he was. Only 20 years ago he was in a war torn battlefield fighting for survival amid the tower giants that did battle. Now he was a retired warrior, living a simple life at 42; something few men in this wretched galaxy ever find. As his wife entered the bed, he drifted off to sleep with her in his arms………………
A loud noise woke him from his sleep; he looked around for its source and found none. He got up out of the bed and moved to the window, looking out for any possible predators that could be preying on his animals. Nothing seemed weird except that his tarraks were whining abnormally. Strapping on his pistol, he grabbed his hunting rifle and quietly went outside to the corral, inspecting the area carefully as he proceeded. Reach the fence, he jumped over and approached the nearest tarrack.
“Wooaaahh, boy, steady. What wrong?” He calmed the horse down, which caused the other horse to stop whining a little as he soothed the horse with his voice.
Suddenly he heard a large crack above him and he looked up into what he could only describe as a nightmare. The sky was filled with massive flashes and lights that lit it up like it was mid-day. The sky made noises that Marcus recognized as orbital fire from space, and the snap of massive explosions as they tore it asunder. Fear ran through his veins, and before he knew it he was running back to the house at a dead sprint, launching himself up the stairs and into his wife’s room.
“Honey, wake the kids, get them ready fast, and bring some food!” Not waiting to see if she answered he ran back downstairs and woke Mike who was sound asleep. Waiting till he came too, he ordered him to ready the truck, again not waiting for an answer. He ran back to the corral, opening the gate and shooing them off into the field and away from the house. Hopefully he would return for them, but it seemed unlikely. As he did his wife came running out to him, handing him a basket of food and asking what was all the fuss about. Without answering he pointed up to the sky and showed her what was transpiring above.
“It would seem that my past has caught up with me once more Ariel, now get the kids and………” He never got the chance to finish, as a massive object hurtled from space and smashed into the house behind them, throwing them into the fields and covering them with dust and debris. More thunderous noises and the ground shook beneath them as Marcus grabbed his wife and covered her from the deadly fragments as they pelted his aged body. He kept praying to the Emperor for it to stop, for this madness to go away; for it all to be a dream.
As the shaking and noise subsided he rolled off his wife and slowly pushed himself up on his knees. As he did, his mind first registered, and then showed him the massive debris that had crushed his house and barn as well.
“NNOOOOOOO, he roared as he launched himself up with unknown energy and sprinted to the house. As he neared, the heat from the flames singed him as he search around the corners, praying that his children were ok, that the cruel fate hadn’t befallen them. It wasn’t meant to be as he ran around the back of the remaining barn and saw the three corpses burning in front of him. He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face, his heart close to burst, his mind numb from the reality in front of him. He children had perished, as had his best friend, a man that survived countless battles with him only to suffer a cruel fate at the hands of indirect fire from a space battle. He heard no he felt his wife collapse next to him in tears, crying out into the night, cursing the Emperor for allowing such an evil thing to befall such innocent children, not even of 10 years. Yet Marcus couldn’t bring himself to curse, or break down, or mourn that which was obviously lost to him forever. His curse followed him even now, and he could do nothing, but stare at that which had so dearly loved, but no had lost to a cruel twist of fate.
Suddenly behind them, the massive debris popped and hissed opened; the door falling off to the side. Shadows emerged from its interior, all hunched over and bent in nasty forms that barely looked human. They wielded serrated weapons with crude markings that hurt his mind, and growled an unintelligent language that sounded more like the green skins that any human language. Despite all this, Marcus still recognized the signs of Chaos, and their wretched kind; even though his mind denied it.
As the figures emerged, they approached him, cackling with glee at their apparent first kill being so easy. One approached him and in a raspy voice demanded, “What’s your name, that I might mark you and your soul for the glory of the Gods.” Cackling, the man kicked his wife into the ground, and put his pistol over her head, preparing to take her life.
Marcus just snapped, whipping out his pistol in one fluid, practiced movement and taking the man’s head from his shoulder. Before it had even fallen, he grabbed the gun and turned in a circle, firing non-stop into the daemonic men into front of him; screaming obscenities. Rounds pinged back in response and he dove left, the rolled forward and shot another through the head, before turning to kill another shadow that was looming behind him.
Only it wasn’t a man, as Marcus pulled the trigger, the rounds bounced harmlessly off cermite armor and pinged back, ricocheting off Marcus’s shoulder. He looked up into the face of an Astarte’s, or what was only once. The warrior was wearing a massive armor suit, with a fist that cracked with energy and a massive pistol in his left hand. It smiled as it kicked him and sent him flying; laughing at his weakness. As Marcus got up, he saw the giant grab his wife, who looked to him desperately for help.
SNAP, and she crumbled down, dead; her spine snapped clean in half. “Damn you, Marcus roared and launched him at the giant, intent on slaughtering him. He was tossed aside as the giant punched him in mid-air and then crushed his left leg as he fell to the ground. Marcus gasped as pain shot up his body, threatening to tear out his sanity and destroy him then and there. The giant tilted its head, seemingly curious at such a feisty human, but put its bolter to Marcus’s head as it said, “Any last words?” Closing his eyes, Marcus prepared to meet his maker.
Suddenly bolter fire tore into the giant, and a loud humming noise announced the arrival of vehicles from the forest. The giant roared as more round tore into it, some leaving visible wounds in its armor; and it ordered a retreat away from the burning landing craft. Marcus watched as they retreated, then looked over to the grey vehicles, a blurry figure dismounting and rushing to his side. The he passed out