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Old 27 Aug 2008, 21:07   #1 (permalink)
Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: Ontario, Canada
Posts: 9,807
Default Entry E - Untitled

Battle Rages.

General Militant Antauis Daine smiled grimly as another traitor was consumed in an encompassing orb of green plasma. The monstrous creature gave a gurgling shriek that was cut short as its vocal cords shriveled and burned away before the smoldering remains of its waist and legs toppled over. Even its mutated ceramite armor pulsing with daemonic power was unable to stop the molten fury of the Emperors wrath. These ancient reminders of mankind’s worst hour ten millennia ago still lived through unholy and dark vows to the Chaos Gods. Cruel parades of the Adeptus Astartes these armored behemoths could shrug off fire that would kill a mortal man thrice over. Antauis relished the chance to deliver the Emperors divine judgment to these unholy beasts. The small once quiet colony had the horrible misfortune to attract the attention of these things. When the Pavonian 707th regiment landed on the planet they found nothing out of the ordinary. Then they made their way to the only city on the planet. It seemed deserted. Their footsteps echoing strangely down the empty streets. When they reached the town square they found, crucified on the eight pointed star of chaos atop a mound of corpses, the governor of the town and an imperial priest, his rosarius jammed through his eye. He could only guess at the agonies’ they and the other towns folk had endured before the release of death. He silently vowed that they would all be avenged. A bolt shell flew past his ear and with a sound like a bursting fruit the guardsmen next to him met a gory end. That was when the foul forces of Chaos revealed themselves. The regiment had been scattered throughout the city, small groups of men fighting for their lives. Antauis snapped back to the present and charged As he closed to melee he activated the disruption field on his power fist, its blazing cornea of light belying its devastating efficiency. It passed through steel, ceramite, and Warp corrupted flesh with equal ease.

As he slammed his powerfist into the first traitor sending him to a messy end the rest turned to face him. One was clad in garish pink power armor, a fur collar was around its exposed neck An obscene whip fused to its right hand. its face in endless rapture, yet its eyes were black and dead. "Join us mortal". hearing this creatures voice was like having what little remained of his body rubbed with silk and cut by many small blades at the same time, Antauis suppressed a shudder. " The pleasures I can show you! the eternal joy, the ecstasy and the marvelous pain!" Many mental images assailed Antauis, Feasting, Drinking , And Obscene depravity like he had never even imagined. And worst of all, Her… Suddenly the Flesh-whip darted towards Antauis and smashed through his groin plate. It didn’t find what it expected, Instead of the soft yielding flesh it was accustomed to it hit wires and circuitry. It began to smoke as a large amount of electricity ran through it , a horrendous screech coming from the marines lips.

"You will pay for defiling her memory!" he roared before shooting him in the groin and ripping his head off. The other marines came on in a tide, about to overwhelm even one of Antauis’s skill. Then a voice cried out “Stop!” It sounded as though the creature was gargling Phlegm with lungs full of Ichor. The marines stopped and slowly marched backwards till they formed a perfect ring of ceramite and vile flesh. The owner of the disgusting voice came forth, He realized they each wanted to kill him in a one on one combat, for some form of martial honor, if they had any left. This massive, bloated, marine was truly horrific, its distended belly was ruptured and a multitude of filth was pouring out, he doubted if it noticed. It carried a giant filthy scythe. As soon the creature came near a massive cloud of jet black flies emerged from its putrid flesh and swarmed around it, making it extremely difficult to see it and nearly drowning out all noise. A strange wet gurgling emerged from its bile green helmet. He realized it was some form of laughter. This foul creature was laughing at him! “And just what do you find so entertaining?” The creature’s head snapped around and stared him right in the eye,
“ I laugh because you are attempting to forestall the inevitable human, those metal bits won't work forever you know!” It suddenly burst into a horrendous coughing fit, a terrible goo oozing from its helmet, dissolving the flies in its path and hissing when it hit the earth. “Forgive me, I’m not all that well!” Another bout of the wet gurgling. Then suddenly it lunged at him, its corpulence belaying its speed. Antauis was forced to hit the ground to avoid a sweep of its scythe, a marine was bisected by the blow, screaming in agony, “Oh dear, sorry about that chap” More gurgling. Antauis couldn't stand this thing! But that scythe was more that it appeared so he had to stay on the defensive for now. As he darted around the scythe he fired shot after shot into its horrendous gut, to no effect as its living cloud of flies robbed the burning orbs of much of their strength before they made contact.. The blinding plasma was unable to cut through his plague ridden body and the stench of burning fat and diseased flesh filled the air. He hit the ground rolling and the scythe lodged into the dirt where his head had been moments before. He rolled directly at the creature through the cloud of retched insects and delivered an tremendous uppercut into its gut. His Powerfist vaporized the flies in his path and his fist squarely connected. Instead of cutting a path to its spine it simply singed the already burned skin of its stomach and BOUNCED off of it! Antauis couldn’t believe his eye! He leapt back as fast as he could but the creature was just as fast. The scythe blade flashed a fraction of an inch from his skull and as he saw the blade well for the first time he nearly voided his stomach. The scythe blade was made of putrid flesh, covered in oozing sores and giving off a horrible miasma of taint. Antauis’s mind raced for a way to defeat this thing. He couldn’t shoot it, he couldn’t smash it, so that left slicing. But the best tool for that was in the enemies very hands. As the horrible entity rushed towards him once more he charged towards it, so to deny it the room it needed to properly use its scythe. He heard a horrific retching above him and knew what would come next. He grabbed its right wrist with his Powerfist and pulled with all his might, and with a final yank he pulled its hand and scythe free as he spun away from the creature once again. In an instant a flood of molten filth poured from its helmet, nearly engulfing Antauis. With the scythe in hand he quickly severed both of its arms before cutting the abomination in half.

It fell to the ground with two disgusting plops. a few miniature daemons crawled from its ruined belly and vainly tried to reattach their masters organs. “ Was that really necessary?” The creature sounded genuinely insulted. Antauis quickly put his plasma pistol to its helmet. “Burn” He fired. Suddenly the ring of ceramite around him parted for a second before reforming, A great blue armored marine strode forth with a cats grace. Its helmet flowed like mercury and was never the same design when you looked at it. It carried a great ever shifting staff. Where the past champion embodied Physical corruption this one seemed to represent Spiritual corruption. It was just as disgusting to look at, only in a different manner, its armor was dabbed in heretical runes that seemed to shift and flow across its armor, and its staff, that horrific staff! The dimensions of it were just wrong as though it seemed to be a blaspheme against the very laws of reality. Then the Damned thing spoke. It sounded almost hollow, like a voice echoing through a shell or from the bottom of some infernal pit and the voice constantly changed tone and pitch in a very disturbing manner. “The Changer of Ways sees all mortal, and so do his worshipers. Today I have seen your death” With that it spun its staff, making it look even more horrible, and a bolt of purest black shot towards him. His refractor field managed to veer it of course, barely. A huge steaming gap was laid into the bionics of his left arm. The poor marine it hit dead on faired far worse, It suffered a million years of evolution in a few seconds. He heard horrifying sounds behind him until a sharp crack signaled its spine had snapped. Then the thing charged towards him, no two blows alike. It took all his skill to keep that staff away from his flesh. As the staff met fist the fields crossed with nauseating effects. He rushed forward in a glorious charge. He battered away the staff and leapt straight up, smashing its helmet with a vicious over handed blow, nearly sending the entirety of it into the things chest cavity. Instead of collapsing as even a marine should have it merely laughed, a cold mirthless sound which now echoed strangely. Then Antauis realized, it didn’t have a body! How can he kill this thing, without destroying it entirely? That was just it, he couldn’t, the entire suit would need to be obliterated to vanquish this beast. But how could he do that without overloading one of his weapons and hoping the blast would effect enough of the creature to make it ineffective? The answer came to him as the thing stepped into the open gut of the dead Nurglite. With a hissing noise the ceramite began to dissolve and the Nurglings clawed and bit at the intruder. The sorcerer hastily removed its leg from the ooze but the damage had been done, he knew how to kill it. After ducking a massive backhanded blow he shot it repeatedly in its already weakened leg, and with a snap it toppled into the ruptured belly of the felled Nurglite. It screamed for a second as the horrible viruses broke down its very being. It kept thrashing for a few seconds in a soup of liquid ceramite then it suddenly stopped.
Then all was silent. Seeing no more champions approach him he turned on the rest. These Traitors fell left and right to his holy fury. And though he suffered from dozens of minor wounds he still kept on, a red veil covering his vision, he could feel his bloodlust rising and in this state nothing could touch him. With a flourish he crushed the last traitors head and slumped to the ground in exhaustion. Then he noticed a figure approaching him from down the alley where the rest of his squad had been. Now there was only a crimson mass with the occasional scrap of black fabric. A butcher of men neared him. He stood twelve feet tall, dwarfing even the mighty Antauis. His armor’s original color was impossible to distinguish beneath the layers of congealing blood. Skulls and other grisly trophies of its past victories adorned its cruel spiked power armor. Its helmet was a mass of warped iron in the vague shape of a human skull with horns jutting from its forehead. In one hand it clutched a massive chainaxe that seemed to be carved from human bones. Many of the teeth were coated in gore but it wasn’t yet clogged. In its left hand it had a massive bolt pistol, its butt similarly coated. Vaguely noticeable underneath the blood was the symbol of a planet between two massive fanged jaws. “World Eater!” Antauis spat towards the behemoth. From underneath its helmet came the deafening roar of “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” The Khornite charged blindly and Antauis raised his hand to defend himself. The chainaxe struck his Powerfist with a resounding clang and Antauis was nearly forced to his knees. He had never expected such strength! This would be far more difficult than he had anticipated. He fought this monstrosity for what seemed liked hours, his arm burned from exertion and nether one was making any ground, but Antauis was tiring, the adrenaline had long since worn off and he could barely swing his fist anymore. One final desperate idea came to him. He ran straight at the thing in desperation holding up his left arm above his head. The chainaxe hit the forearm at an angle and scraped across the battered surface of the bionic limb, heavily damaging it before lodging into the wall next to him. But he had gotten close enough and had left the berzerker defenseless. He smashed his fist through its chest, Then savagely ripped it out of the right side of its torso. The berzerker stumbled backwards and slumped against a wall. Antauis turned and looked for any surviving Pavonians. He saw a few members of a guardsmen squad running towards him waving franticly and yelling. Unable to hear them he began to limp back to his men when he heard the gurgling cry of “SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!” as a shattering blow hammered into his spine. The whirring blades ripped through his carapace armor and shredded the flesh and muscle beneath. Screaming a denial, Antauis spun while falling and aimed Sunfury, the ancient plasma pistol, and fired. A great orb of plasma streaked forth and the traitors head was little more than molten slag. The body twitched as though it would continue killing but it collapsed. When Antauis hit the ground a line of fire stitched its way up his back and he screamed again then blacked out.

“Why aren’t I dead?” the thought slowly formed in Antauis’s mind. “What happened?, where am I, did we win, have I been captured!” As the last thought formed he snapped awake and sat bolt upright. Instead of the iron cell and chains he expected he was in a starched white bed, with his back dressed and bandaged and his Powerfist and plasma pistol on a table next to him. On his right hand a fresh layer of synthskin had been sprayed. His mighty Powerfist, crafted from the severed gauntlet of the Ultramarines veteran sergeant Pasanius who nearly died fighting the unyielding force of the timeless stargod known as the Nightbringer, fused with his skin when worn and needed a new layer of synthskin sprayed on after every use. His left arm had also been repaired. He noticed a small mirror on the table to his right. He needed to cheek for any new “gifts” the enemy might have left him. As he stared into the polished surface of the mirror the same old face stared back at him. Short cropped white hair, Two ice blue eyes, one of which was bionic, a nose with a large nip in it where a necron warscythe had come to damn close for comfort, Pasty white skin from his most recent Juvnat treatment and a rough line across his neck were his throat was slit by a powerknife, he had lived but his vocal cords were heavily damaged, he could never speak in anything other then that rasping growl. And a mouth that had long ago forgotten how to form a smile. “I could almost pass for handsome!” he scoffed. That is if it weren’t for the entire left half of his face being bionic. Though few knew it the bionics included the left half of his brain. This caused what he called “flashes”. He could and would flash from a calculating, cold and ruthless old man to a savage, nearly feral berzerker. Through time he had learned to channel these flashes as they where a potent weapon. Nonetheless they were occasionally unstable. Luckily his bionics had been tended to so there was little chance of that. Whoever did this could have at least given me some damn painkillers! thought Antauis, His back felt like it was aflame! Soon after he faded back into the veil of unconsciousness.
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