There it is again, that rush, the feeling of lives extinguished, the exhilaration of your life on a knife's edge, That's the feeling I live for.
The hulkish figure of Hal Varks slouched over his las carbine, slowly chipping at the pressed imperial aquila with a yellowed thumb nail, the only sign of his train of thought. His weathered helm sat loosely upon his head, casting a shadow over his terse expression, shading two furious blue eyes. He held one foot up on the bench of his troop carrier, little more than a supply truck confiscated for the war effort.
Hal tore his eyes away from the offending shape of the aquila, noting the tip of the left wing was jaggedly scraped off. The ex prison dweller held a passionate dislike for the majority of the Imperium after seeing just what and who controlled it. It wasn't the will of the almighty Emperor, it wasn't the greatness of man,. No, it was only the false priest who sully His name, the corrupted, petty, selfish ecclesiarchal ministers and those who blindly followed their radical ideals, their righteous judgments, their utter madness.
Snorting in disgust, Hal put away his bitterness for the Imperium for another time, instead taking in the twilight sky, and the almost palpable fear and excitement of his fellow troopers. He watched the fading light of the sun as it sunk below the horizon, he watched distant and foreign lights dance in the darkened skies, occasional bursts of brilliant flame and the imposing figure of the alien space hulk, lurking in the night. His deep set eyes locked on to each figure in the rumbling cradle of the PDF carrier, he saw men who had withering hides and weary expressions showing their natural age, he saw men who lacked any formidable muscle or grit showing that they were not truly warriors, and some were merely boys, not even past the age of fifteen and yet they were forced into oversized shoes of a solider, clutching their las carbines and shacking from the thought of such a dreaded opponent.
The sight elected a sigh of disappointment, Hal really wasn't sure if any of them had the mettle to stick out a war, to be able to stand against such a numerable and brutish menace. Orks... the thought of such beast implanted a feeling of fear in his muscled breast, but the thought of such a savage enemy gave him a small burst of exhilaration. Not many things could make him feel threatened, especially after asserting his strength in the penal wards he had been wrongly subjugated to.
Hal gave a small grin, something that did not hold any mirth, only a twisted feeling of expectancy. "I guess I have two things to thank these Orks for now." He muttered under the din of the two guttering engines of the troop transports.
Shaking his head, wolfish grin still holding, Hal couldn't help but start to feel nigh ecstatic of the invaders' coming. He could finally feel the flow of fear in his veins again, he could finally be faced with a threat beyond the faceless mask of guard servitors, or the skittering eyes of the criminally accused. He tightened his grip on the cheaply made rifle in his hands, relishing the feeling of hard pressed metal digging into his thick hide. He finally had something to fear, something to fight a real battle with, something to claim a life worth claiming. His grin grew wider and wider, revealing his sharpened teeth, filed down to a point with a prison shiv years ago. His eyes, shadowed by his brow and helm, gleamed with a fire of anticipation barely contained by his prior professional life.
Just as Hal was about to lose himself in the thought of battle, his hauler came to a sudden halt, and into a rocking crash. At the spot Hal was occupying at that moment, bodies of flailing citizen soldiers crashed into him as they lurched forward, momentum carrying them straight into Hal. Hal himself was sent crashing into the wall that divided the cabin from the bed of the hauler, and he soon felt the weight of a mass of confused men slamming into him, stealing his breath from his lungs.
Feeling the inky blackness of unconsciousness try to grasp at him, Hal engaged his arms in pushing the troopers off of him, taking in several large breaths of air to fight back the encroaching blackout. Giving a growl of annoyance, Hal stood up into a hunched stance, his rifle gripped tightly in his massive paws. The sound of whooping jeers and gravely laughter met his ears along the sound of gurgling engines and the distant pops of automatic gunfire.
Hal's eyes widened in understanding, this was it, this was what he was waiting for, what he owed his freedom to, the Orks!
He wanted nothing more than to let loose a primal roar of challenge, to draw his combat knife and charge headlong into the shadowy figures of the distant invaders, but his old instincts and lessons of his mother told him to fight the urge, the urge that was straining every fiber of his being just to stay in his current pose. He saw what men who had finally seized their orientation begin to pile out of the truck and dash for the looming shape of their designated outpost. His old self was yelling at him to join his comrades, to flee to a more advantageous position to fight the aliens, but his own bestial urge telling him to attack right away, to fling himself into the melee.
Cursing, Hal steeled himself and leaped onto the rusty soil of his world, and began to book it towards his given objective. He motivated himself with thoughts of his family's past honors, of his Guardsman heritage, of his mother's fiery will.
He heard the chug of a heavy stubber behind him, and the explosion of grenades following behind, and chuckled. "Krassus," He whispered with a knowing tone in between puffs of breath. He had always held an admiration for the big man, they hadn't talked too much during their one month of training, but Hal recognized the danger in the man. He could feel the complete lack of concern for himself, and sense of apathy for most everything in that man, he held wounds beyond repair in his heart, and that made him a man with little to lose. Hal held respect for him, for even he didn't posses such lack of concern for himself like Dom, sure he would go out and fight in hand to hand, even with these hulking beast, but he still held a strong sense of self preservation.
Halting his sprint with a turning slide, Hal brought his las carbine up to his eyes, which were hidden completely now in his helmet's shadow.Picking out the zooming figure of a shanty contraption, Hal took aim and let loose a string of shots, sending blazing spears of red through the night. Without confirmation of a hit, the grinning man turned on his heel and sprinted a few more meters, stopped, and shot another three beams of laser fire into the dismounted mob of startlingly fast beast, careful not to hit his own comrades.
He could see them now, their massive bodies strapped with all manner of jagged, rusty baubles and spikes, armed with massive blades and booming hand canons. Their green skin was smeared with soot and blood, making their beady red eyes practically glow in the dim twilight. Pausing only for a moment, Hal saw the heavy set figure of Dom sprinting past many of the other fleeing troopers and gave a grunt of satisfaction. He wasn't too keen on having the only man in his squad deserving of his respect die right off the bat, firing one last shot from his las carbine, Hal saw it fit to flee towards the oddly silent outpost.
Hal had no trouble keeping up his speed, and he soon found himself past the steel doors of the outpost and sliding into the courtyard, and just like the walls, it was empty. Not giving any time to ponder it, Hal saw the figure of one of his squadmates beginning to close the doors, yet only a few of the other troopers had entered its protective perimeter. Recognizing the figure who had initiated closing the doors, Hal frowned in contempt, it was Jakon Laveer, a stuck up aristocrat playing soldier and pretending to be the unofficial commander of their squad. well. that was Hal's opinion at least.
Growling in the face of his cowardice, the ex prisoner was going to reach out to Laveer and stop him, but one look out of the outpost doors told him it wasn't needed. The rest of the troopers either were about to get in, or already lay broken under the greenskin's stampede, if not already inside the rockrete walls.
Shaking his head free of sentimental thought, Hal sprinted up the staircase of the outer walls and slammed himself down onto the ramparts. Bringing his rifle up to aim, Hal shot four consecutive shots into the charging xenos, the thin beams either stabbing into the thick hides of the orks, or thudding the ground, seemingly equally as useful in putting down the enemy.
Pushing himself to the ground, Hal ducked under the rampart to see many of his fellow troopers had joined hi up the wall, sadly, so had that coward Laveer. Hal glared at his still form for a few moments, not seeing him aim over the barrier and shoot once. Slamming another charge into his carbine, Hal risked another volley at the aliens, bearing his sharpened teeth at their massive tusks.
"Oh shit!" Hal hissed out before attempting to jump away from the incoming stream of blazing fire, but he had failed to protect his left shoulder from the spewing flames. Loosing his balance, he fell a good amount into the dusty floor, feeling the air expunge itself from his lungs, and the blazing heat of the flame currently burning at his shoulder.
Pushing himself, the blond man began to rub his shoulder into the ground to smother the flames, but in doing so he had pressed the fire closer into his skin, burning him harshly. Biting back a scream, trooper Varks heard the distinct cry of "Bomb!" Out of instinct, Hal covered his face and braced for the shockwave for a brief amount of time, but nothing came, then he saw the doors blast open with a plume of fire billowing in.
"Doors open boyz, 'ave at 'em!" Roared through the night air, and Hal felt a sense of dread and eagerness as the massive forms of the greenskins burst through. He was still on the ground, but he wasn't at the immediate attention of the mob as they charged the few others on the ground with him.
Pushing himself up against the wall, he began to fire thoughtlessly into the crowd of savages, only seeming to do little than piss them off with his las carbine. Just then, two things happened that rocked the orks from their charge. The first was multiple rifles began to spew las rounds from the central building across the courtyard, peppering the invaders further.
Secondly, and most shocking, was the hulking, although not as massive as the ork leader, smashed into said leader with a battle worn shoulder of black and white ceramite. They both were sent reeling into the primary building and began to hammer at each other, their blows growing fiercer and fiercer. Hal couldn't believe his eyes, what stood before him, facing off with the enemy chieftain was the living embodiment of the Emperor's fury, the grandchild of His holy progeny, the mighty Adeptus Astartes, A Space Marine.
Halting for a few more seconds, Hal tore his eyes from the duel of monstrous power, if he was going to live to fight another day, he was going to have to do some damage here. Slamming yet another las charge into his carbine, Hal began to fire into one specific ork who seemed to have found an interest in him and began to lumber towards him.
"Die you greenskin scum!" Hal roared out in his gravely voice, firing wildly.
Last edited by Khornate Renegade; 03-31-16 at 02:51 AM.