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· is going to DISNEY LAND
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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
Shadows of Venality
The planet was alive. He was convinced of it. Corporal Lucius Bronks was on sentry duty, and though it was a barren wasteland with no signs of life, The Colonel had been firm in his decision. This world gave him the creeps, though, no question about it. it seemed alive, plain and simple. The air was crisp and tasty, as if he had just stepped into a barn, as he had at home. The Temperature was comfortable, just like in a hab unit. The ground was soft, just right for sowing. He didn’t know why, but he felt like settling down here, abandoning all of his duty. Feth it, there it was again. The planet had a natural magnetism, Satis Superque, the Colonel had called it.
The heretics they had purged were strange, Screaming in ecstasy as they were covered in burning promethium. They had strange, ghastly art and a wailing music that was painful to listen to. . Upon interrogation, the leader of this cult said that he had found a spacecraft that had crashed with a wounded giant clad in cracked, destroyed armor. The Giant had books, the weeping portrait, and recording of that horrendous screeching music. “our lord Lycaon Taught us the ways of the dark prince,” he said in a butchered low gothic “how our every exce-” he was silenced by a bolt round to the head from Commisarr Danik. He ordered the village, music, and art burned, along with all of its inhabitants. “leave none alive” as they burned the village, a warrior clad with the skin of one of the guardsmen, fresh from the flaying table. The cultist proclaimed that their lord Lycaon had arrived, and that he would unleash hell upon the interlopers. He pulled a monstrous weapon off of his back, a chainsword as thick as a tree trunk, and half as tall! Sweeping it from left to right, he cut down all before him, even stopping to ponder on the blood spatter on the ground. I myself shot him with my grenade launcher, catching him in the leg with a krak round. His legs were ruined messes, one a stump, one held on by a single stand of gristle. He began to shout hateful curses at us, raging and promising death and a violation to our corpses beyond mortal comprehension. Until-that is, the Commisar got a clean headshot with his bolt pistol, leaving the freak without a top half of his head. The rest of the cultists were armed with naught but farm implements, and most didn’t get the chance to realize they were hopelessly outmatched.

Shaking his thoughts out of his head, he saw his relief coming with a Lho stick. “hey buddy, you got a spare?”“Yea, man, be careful not to let Danik see it, though”
It seemed to have been cut open and disemboweled, replacing the Bacco with other narcotic substances. Such practice was not unusual, but it was punishable by flogging, and such openness bordered on stupidity.
“on second thought” said Lucius, “I don’t really care for one”
“suit yourself”

A week later, when the purging was complete, there was a veritable blare of music coming from the rec hall. He walked in to see several guardsmen with monstrous instruments that emitted a sound punishing to the ears, violent and uncomfortable loud. The smell was both pleasant and repellant, as though mixing fruit and mint with rotten eggs and vinegar. Drinking was rampant, and a low cloud of smoke was not quite touching the ceiling. The audience, including most of the officers, was held rapt. He tried to talk to his squad leader, but the sergeant seemed to be ignoring him. He shook the man’s shoulder, and got a look of surprise through glazed, milky white eyes. “Lucy, when did you get here?” Lucius said nothing and stared open-eyed. The Sergeant had always given stern lectures to the younger troops about the use of unsanctioned substances, and didn’t even approve of alcohol or lho sticks, much less partake himself. Finally regaining his wits he said “we are supposed to be on patrol, but you weren’t in the barracks”. “Oh, is it 1200 already?” said the Sergeant, seeming confused. “its 1400”, Lucius said. “Oh, feth, we had better get moving, haven’t we” He was all business now, and he seemed to be cleared up by the time they had left the hall and met up with the rest of the squad, who were already mustered and fully set. The Sergeant was always proper, never without his chainaxe and flak vest. They got into their APC, and their driver said “you boys are out for the long haul, commander Taurus said that some filth was spotted by the aerial recon teams, and you are to hunt them down.” Lucius nodded, relayed that to the Sergeant, and slept.
When he woke, he saw that everyone else had fallen asleep, bar the driver, and the gunner. They were talking amongst themselves until the gunner stiffened up, and slumped over in the cupola. A moment later a shot rang out, and instantly everyone was awake. The pilot shouted “SNIPER”, and rammed it into high gear. Suddenly, he heard a “whump”, and the driver, screaming obscenities, was torn to shreds by the krak missile that came through the cab. The two nearest to the cab were killed, bent metal shearing into their sides. “BAIL OUT”, someone shouted, and they did. As they came out, they became aware of the three score cultists around them. They immediately charged them, with no heed towards their own safety. The fighting was quick and brutal, random shots going off, and bayonets becoming stuck in the corpses. Lucius ducked a blow, coming from a boy of less than 17 years old. He brought up arm, elbowing him in the jaw and stabbing him under the chin. He removed it and threw the youth off of him. Before he could recover, he was slashed in the face with a sickle. In a rage, he smashed the man with the butt of his gun, catching him off balance and knocking the cultist down. He kept bringing his launcher down until the bubbling laughter stopped and he heard a sickening “crack”. The mans face resembled a bowl of red pudding with jagged edges on the bowl. As he was hunched over, the leader threw his full weight on his back. Bucking, he threw the man over his head easily, the man got onto his knees, only to be stabbed twice by the already bloodied bayonet. The cultist had mutilated himself, and now Lucius was doing it to him in equal measure, eventually, the man was barely standing, and to deliver the coup de grace, he headbutted him, knocking him down, and finishing the job. As he struggled to stand up straight, he could see that they were victorious, but only just. Almost everyone was dead, with the exception of the Sergeant and two other troopers. One wounded man was just standing up when he spun around, and another shot rang out. They began looking around, scanning the trees from behind the ruined Chimera when Lucius fired an incindiery round at a bit of movement in the trees, and was rewarded with a long, drawn out scream.


· Semi-Famous 40k Intellect
4,568 Posts
Moved From 40k Fluff.

as far as i can tell mate, i'm sure this isn't a fluff discussion nor is it homebrew. sounds more like an original short story to me. Be sure to post original works like this in the correct section next time.

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