Warhammer 40k Forum and Wargaming Forums banner
1 - 3 of 3 Posts

·
Registered
Joined
·
905 Posts
Discussion Starter · #1 ·
ya, sorry for the long wait, i ve been quite busy and hadnt got around to finishing my next installment, but here it is. Sorry for the length.

Septimus was amazed at how far he had come, from a mere scout to a respected specialist. He was now in the Tank Hunting Corps, made up of the chapters bravest tank hunters. His brothers were armed with rocket launchers, multi meltas, lascannons and one was brave enough to hold the deadly plasma cannon. He was the only one with a meltagun, he had been honoured with the privilege of using the armoury to a certain extent, when he came out again, all he had taken were melta bombs and extra doses of pyrum-petrol to load into his weapon. He remembered his actions as a scout with a burning pride, he remembered how his feats of bravery gave him the chance to don power armour, younger than all his other brother scouts. How he had protected and avenged his mentor Battle Brother Dalone and he remembered above all the rest the revered ceremony in which he was granted his black carapace and that suit of shining artificer forged power armour. His eyes had lit up with joy and pride as he donned his blue protector. How honoured he was to have made it all this way. Before every battle, he would say his prayers with more devotion than the others, he had assumed leadership after the death of their sergeant several times and despite his lack of experience the other warriors of the emperor looked up to him. He was the youngest space marine to ever be in the Tank Hunting Corps. An honour he bore proudly.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sergeant’s strict voice, “Prepare yourselves brothers, we move out in an hour, run a systems check and move out.” After a salute they hurriedly checked their weapons, firing test shots and checking ammo containers. Septimus shot a quick burst at a chunk of metal nearby, watching as the sub-molecular chemicals ate away at it, reducing it to a small pool of bubbling slag. A grim smile lit his face as he put himself in his enemy’s shoes, it was not pretty. He ran to the rendezvous point, where the sergeant was testing his powerfist, he punched the ground, leaving a giant pothole in the ground. The sergeant looked up, “Ah yes. You are the new one are you not? You must be a brave one, holding a meltagun. Going close to tanks isn’t pretty, good luck on your first battle with the Corps brother.”
“Yessir.”
Soon after, the rest of the squad came, one by one. They eyed him and his weapon strangely, for good or bad Septimus couldn’t tell. The sergeant called everyone in and began the briefing, “Brothers, we are facing the heretic scum. An armoured regiment of traitor Guardsmen, they will regret their choice. The 4th intercepted their forces and require anti-tank assistance, they are lying in wait 30 miles from our position, our razorback will pick us up and we will attack from the rear. Once we engage, the guerilla company will assist us.”
The razorback was right on time, they embarked and it zoomed off into the distance like a graceful and keen eagle finding its prey. It took no more than 5 minutes for them to arrive. The regiment was moving slowly and the razorback launched itself into their midst, using a hill as a ramp to lift it in the air. As they made contact with the ground frag grenades were launched outside, smoke launchers were set off and the squad disembarked. You could hear the roar of jetpacks as the assault marines jumped into place. The devastators firing away at the tanks while the Corps started taking out the major enemy armour. Amid the confusion in the melee and the blazing guardsmen afire due to the flamers, Septimus planted a melta bomb on a corrupted leman russ after melting its guns and treads. “Fire in the hole!” He yelled before impact. A heretical commissar charged at Septimus with sword raised. Septimus side
stepped the foolish attack, stuck a krak grenade into the poor heretic’s belt and pushed him away not even looking as the chaos worshipping scum blew into millions of pieces. A platoon of the traitors stormed forward, taking solid positions to fire their weapons from. Most of the lasguns could not penetrate his armour, they singed his armour and burned his flesh but he had been through worse and the tough space marine sucked it up. A Hellhound was zooming straight at him, the Guardsmen who was driving had put the pedal to the metal and his foot had had become attached. It was careening out of control. Septimus jumped in the air and swinging on the barrel of its weapon, he jumped onto the back and planted a melta bomb, he jumped off too late and the melta bomb exploded, sending him flying far, far away, his hand and half his face had got caught in the explosion, his remaining eye was clouded with blood and his flesh was burned, even his great adamant helmet couldn’t stop his face from being incinerated.
Septimus staggered upright after a long stay on the ground, he tried to stop the pain from driving him mad, and he hardwired the meltagun to the stub where his hand used to be. He grunted satisfaction and ran as best as he could back into the fray. A sentinel walker was wreaking havoc with its heavy flamer. Septimus punched a guardsmen sergeant in the head with his heavily armoured gauntlet. The skull was crushed and Septimus picked up his weapon, the boltpistol’s explosive shells easily penetrated the sentinel’s bulletproof glass and buried themselves in the pilot’s chest and head. Then his leg was cut at the knee and he blacked out. His last thought was of a traitor holding a chainsword.
 

·
Jac "Baneblade" O'Bite
Joined
·
8,082 Posts
Nide stuff Initate. I'm begining to see the links between this guy and the Captain. Really did like the jumping onto the back of the Hellhound. Very nice touch.
 

·
Registered
Joined
·
905 Posts
Discussion Starter · #3 ·
When Septimus woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he could see with both eyes. He lifted his hand, the one that had exploded. There was a mechanical one replacing it. His leg had also been replaced by bionics. Septimus closed his eye and sent a prayer of gratitude to the Emperor for sparing his life. An apothecary stepped in, “Ah yes, you are awake. Your sergeant has died, you have been chosen to take his place. “
“I-I… I am honoured brother.”
“You should be, from what I have heard, you are a great warrior, truly worthy of the Emperor. “


just to make sure no one thought he died :)
 
1 - 3 of 3 Posts
Top