The Blood Roosters
The Blood Roosters is a "What if?" Story. What did the Emperor do with the throw away stuff from the creation of the Primarchs? What if, by mistake, he created another Primarch? One who looked at war somewhat backward then his other brothers?
It was high noon and the yards were packed with Astartes, the Blood Roosters Space Marine Legion. Before them the Primarch paced back and forth, head bobbing back and forth, eyes darting this way and that, watching his children as they struggled to stand still in the blazing heat.
The Primarch’s name was Black Cochin. He stood nearly four meters tall; all of his muscled body covered by armor crafted within the secret forges of Mars. Only the most trusted of the Emperor’s servants knew of the existence of the Blood Roosters and only certain members of the Mechanicus could be trusted with that knowledge. For the Blood Roosters were the Legion the Emperor of mankind had never meant to create.
The Emperor struggled to keep the secret of this massive Legion. He had only meant to create the most noble, brave and powerful beings with which to advance the Imperiam, but a lack of oversight on his part resulted upon the creation of Black Cochin.
Where the other Primarchs were relentless examples of ambition and deceit, Black Cochin was the opposite. Sure he could be ambitious, brutal or relentless if the need arose, but here upon Chicindus III the need very rarely came up.
The Blood Roosters could administer war as well as any of their brothers, the fact they had stayed hidden and undefeated for ten thousand years testified to that reality.
By their profound stratagem they have defeated the Tyranid hosts, the Necron menace, the forces of Chaos and the Ork invasions.
Undefeated for ten thousand years, and still the Imperiam refuses to acknowledge them. That was fine though, the Blood Roosters are a secret Legion. Black Cochin understood this. The Legion would hardly be hidden if everyone knew about them.
‘My children, we are not just mere foul, free range chickens without reason or discipline or guts or glory. No! We are Blood Roosters and we shall know no fear!’ Black Cochin roared. The Astartes answered with shouts of their own and flapped their arms as was customary.
Their egg-white armor gleamed in the sunlight and the glare caused many to squint and shake their heads with nervous tension. Even though they were Astartes, they still held within themselves the nature of the foul beast, the heat of the day was a killer.
Many of them scratched their feet upon the clay earth and bobbed their heads back and forth, but still they watched their Father as he stalked back and forth before them. They would forever be amazed at his lack of agitation from the sun. It was as if hydration was not a problem for him.
‘The Orks have invaded Chickinunundus Primary and we are the closest to help them. We shall not fail.’ Black Cochin bellowed as he dipped his head and picked at something that got his attention.
His children lifted their weapons in the air and cheered, for once again they were needed.
The orks were brutal abominations that roared with the spewing of saliva flailing outward, ‘Waaaaaaargh!’ It was unclear as to where they came from, but they were here now. Their breath was bad, like raw fish and feet with fungus. Their teeth looked like tusks that had not been brushed for decades.
Their skin was green like old bologna and covered with scars and scabs, for rarely did they allow their wounds to heal properly because of the itchy nature of them.
They came by the millions and stormed Chickinunundus Primary with all the bloodlust they were born with. They severed flesh from bones as they chomped down upon hapless guardsmen who could not escape. They could take vast amounts of gunfire and still continue on as if they had only received a scratch.
The Blood Roosters landed and deployed upon the battlefields amidst the roar of Bolter fire and the screaming engines from their Thunder-Chickens.
Captain Buff Orpington led the charge into the first ranks of the Orks and slammed his power talons into the sweaty, green chest of an alien monstrosity. The Orks chest exploded as the talons tore away its sternum and lungs as they were retracted.
He cock-a-doodled-dooed his satisfaction as his egg-white armor was covered in hot Ork blood. Buff Orpington was followed by thirty of his brothers who fired Bolters and slashed with chain swords and power-claws with equal delight.
As they advanced they crowed their positions and strutted about with furious ambition. Chief Librarian Houdan stabbed his staff into the ground and screeched his anger and rage and from his emotion and power a mighty hen appeared with fire upon its wings and flames for breath.
The Orks stood amazed as it ran through their ranks scratching and flapping and clucking as it spewed flames of warp fire upon them.
The Orks regained their composure as their numbers swelled and their bloodlust percolated to a frenzied flood. As the Orks grew in strength, the Blood Roosters were forced back. Captain Buff Orpington shook his head as he received word from his Primarch. ‘Now is the time to administer our stratagem.’
With that the Blood Roosters turned their well armored backs and ran. Their Astartes makeup allowed them to move like the wind and they could barely be stopped once they had begun. Their brothers would have thought them cowards, but there was a reason for their retreat.
Throughout their existence the secret forges of Mars have had to make extra pares of armored shoes for the Blood Roosters, because they would ware them out from their tireless war craft.
As they ran the Orks gave chase. By the thousands they advanced but they could not catch the Blood Roosters. The Orks began to tire as their powerful bodies began to cramp and their lungs heaved. As they slumped and rested upon their haunches, the Blood Roosters turned and put their full strength into the attack.
Black Cochin led the attack from the south accompanied by his brood, Black Leghorn, White Leghorn and Barred Plymouth. They created a spearhead that cut through the waves of exhausted Orks until they were before the War Chief of the Orks, “Ogamma-Gar-Oooompf.”
He bellowed his disdain, but Black Cochin Crooned his powerful song and struck with all the force of a red rooster after a grasshopper. The Primarch moved like a bird of prey as he advanced; the Ork War Chief struck out with his powerclaw, but missed the strutting Warrior before him.
Black Cochin Bobbed his head back and forth, black eyes darting this way and that, taking in the battle from every angle. His blood-talon whipped forth like three-pronged lightning and severed the torso of the bellowing Ork master.
Flapping his arms in victorious taunting the Primarch launched forth into the remaining Orks. Blood, bone and heads cascaded into the air, for the power of a Primarch cannot be stopped when his bloodlust is piqued.
Behind him White Leghorn strutted as he carried the standard of the Legion. It was egg-white and bore the image of a red rooster, wings spread in fearful vengeance, talons splayed, black nails scratching the ruined earth below. In one of the talons a chain-sword dripping with the blood of enemies past was held defiant before a blackened universe.
The standard whipped about in the battlefield wind and stood high above the falling masses. Captain Buff Orpington watched from a distant hill as he watched the demise of the Orks and their retreat before an angry storm. The Blood Roosters were victorious yet again.
Captain Buff Orpington stood in the light of an angry sun at high noon upon the face of their home world, Chicindus III. Devoid of his armor, he would receive upon his chest the stamp of his master’s approval.
As his brothers watched the brand was heated until bright red. The branding would forever mark him as a hero and honored soldier of the 1st Company Flapping Wings. He would become high in the pecking order and his name would never be forgotten.
As he meditated upon the words of his Primarch he spoke them aloud. ‘I am the chosen of the Legion. I am marked by his will. I am remembered by the Emperor and I shall know no- Ouch! What the Frack?! What was that? Emperor’s blood, that hurts. You guys got to warn a guy when that happens. I mean… come on! Branding! Holy Crap!’
And the story goes on. The secret Legion and the Emperor’s mistake standing between the enemies of mankind and the Imperiam of man.
A good reputation take a long time to build, but only a moment to destroy. Wow, that's deep!
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Last edited by Adrian; 08-26-11 at 03:05 AM.