Author's Note: This is my first delve into the Warhammer 40k universe, but I believe I am sufficiently informed to be able to attempt it. This is my first story in a long while, so my writing may have atrophied somewhat, but enough excuses. Reviews, critique, thoughts, and suggestions are all GREATLY appreciated
Disclaimer: The only thing I glean from creating this story is the peace from soothing my muse. All subjects mentioned within are owned by their respective companies. I don't make a dime on this.
Warnings: Mild Cursing. Violence. Blood. Occult sacrifice. Mild suggestive themes. (Tame, don't worry, but Slaanesh and Chaos go hand-in-hand.)
Sidenote: Any quasi-religious situations and leanings mentioned within the story are used in an entirely fictional context. I don't currently or ever wish to commence in any of these Chaos-based acts. This is all for entertainment
The sound of the explosion leaked even leaked through the thick armor of the Thunderhawk. The unceasing, unyielding white light emitted from the fixtures above his head dimmed, followed by a red gleam erupting from previously unremarkable dimples in the hull. Warning sirens blared the steady whine of the engines giving way to the sound of screeching metal. As the earsplitting sound yielded, the craft began its spiral, smoke billowing into the passenger compartment from everywhere. Another explosion resounded through the craft, as the ammo belts were tasted by the billowing flame.
Craning his neck, looking grimly through the front viewport with the clinical mind only an Astartes could muster, Battle Brother Telemus felt a sardonic chuckle slip through his usually stoic lips.
'Perhaps I should have chosen the drop pod.'