Thunder Dragons
In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war…
Across the vast, black expanse of space, a conflict of galactic magnitude has been waged for countless centuries. The Imperium of Man, the greatest bastion of the human race, once dominated the stars, cutting a massive empire almost unchallenged under the leadership of their god and ruler – The Emperor of Man.
But the glory days of the Imperium did not last. Horus, Primarch of the Lunar Wolves, and Warmaster of the Space Marine Legions, was seduced by the Ruinous Powers, the Gods of Chaos, and turned against the Emperor, the man whom he had once revered as a father. For his betrayal, Horus was struck down by the Emperor, but had landed a crippling blow against Him as well. With His life force failing Him, the God-Emperor was interred upon the Golden Throne, an arcane machine of His making, where He expends the full might of His psychic powers to serve and protect His people in whatever way He could.
Now, without His leadership, the Imperium that the Emperor had forged was locked in a stasis of superstition, fear, and war – Aliens of many shape and form assail their domains from multiple directions, each intent on the survival of their race or the dominance of the cosmos, while deep within the pits of the Immaterium, the realm of Chaos, the Ruinous Powers scheme of ways to shatter the foundation of order and civilization, and plunge the whole of the universe into total havoc.
Their enemies are many, and only by the courage of their soldiers and faith in the Emperor do they stand any hope of ensuring the survival of their people from the virulent horrors plaguing the galaxy…
I am an Astartes… I am a Space Marine. For countless eons I have fought the enemies of Man, I fight not for victory, I fight not for the bureaucratic goals of the Administratum… I fight for the Emperor, for Humanity, for the Imperium. I am Siegfried, Chapter Master of the Thunder Dragons, a Chapter of His Divine Majesty's Space Marines - the Angels of Death who cut down all who oppose the Imperium: The alien, the mutant, the heretic. But I have secrets, secrets known only to a select few of my brothers-in-arms, secrets that live only in my mind and of those I trust, secrets that would shatter the fabric of current events should those who would not fathom their meanings learn of it. They are secrets I can assure you will never be told.
I stand alone on a charred wasteland, a battlefield of ash-black earth and shifting, molten streams; I feel my body once more, before I was struck the crippling blow that condemned me into my sarcophagus. I look down and beheld my sword, jabbed into the body of one of the savage alien Orks, reaching out, the familiar, almost comfortable feel of the hilt pulsed through my mind, I felt a sense of longing, a fond memory of days when I fought clad in my Power Armor and my own flesh; with a tug I ripped the sword free of the corpse, and I looked upon the blade, despite having been stuck into the body of the alien and probably dipped in its filthy innards, it emerged in pristine condition, gleaming silently and icily. Not much sooner, a huge, hulking shape emerged from the corner of my eye, and when I turned my head, I saw a large humanoid shape looming towards me, almost ten or more feet above in height with gangly arms, each ending in a knobby hand that held crude metal scraps fashioned like blades. My eyes narrowed into that of the familiar stare of heated rivalry, the huge form bellowed at the top of his lungs the all-too familiar cry of "WAAAGH!" and rushed forward, his makeshift weapons poised to strike; I responded in kind, rushing at him with my gleaming sword, an intense battle was upon me…
"Chapter Master, we are ready to make the jump through the warp." The familiar voice of Zagart, one of the Techmarines of my Chapter, woke me from my dream. All I could see from my casket was darkness, but his voice rang clear to my ears, "Ah, Zagart, so soon?"
"We have nothing left to fight here in this sub-sector, besides, the Great Greenskin Hunt is about to begin in Ascalon." The Great Greenskin Hunt, a ritual event on our Chapter's recruiting world, where aspiring Thunder Dragons would strike out at the planet's population of Orks, and those who slew the most Orks were hailed as heroes of their respective fief. From these brave souls they are selected to undergo the rigorous physical training, psychosurgery, genetic implantations and other such procedures, after which these exceptional men become Space Marines.
"Will we be able to return in time for the event?" I queried.
"I'm afraid not, but hopefully, we might still be able to see the candidates to join our ranks." That was some comfort, I figured, but seeing the event in action was a much more satisfying endeavor I would not miss for anything save an incursion by Necrons or Chaos. After seeing to the life-support on my casket Zagart exited the room to perform the ritual maintenance on our vehicles in the hangar of our Battle Barge, the Black Lindwurm, and I returned to my dreams, of rushing to glorious, bloody battle with my foes. But as satisfying as the prospect of combat appealed to me, I could not shake the ominous presentiment tugging at my heart, this same dream had been occurring for many nights now, surely it must imply something…
Ascalon…
The planet Ascalon was once a medieval Feudal World, governed by a confederacy of loosely affiliated states, or fiefs, vying for power. The Thunder Dragons had long ago come to the planet to recruit from its ranks of hardened warriors, who waged an uphill war against an invading Ork Waaagh! that came to invade it. After the conflict, the Orks remained, but their numbers were at least manageable now, and after their victory, the fiefs cast aside their old petty disputes and embraced their new destiny with the Thunder Dragons; in commemoration, the Great Greenskin Hunt was organized to provide the Chapter with a fresh stock of troops to recruit from, at the same time, the Thunder Dragons introduced some of the more advanced technologies of the Imperium to Ascalon, converting it into a Knight World.
This particular Hunt would see the destiny of one particular individual among the assembly of warriors participating in the Hunt – an upstart youth by the name of Caleb. The young man had lived on the stories of his great-grandfather joining the Thunder Dragons, and of a tragic death at the hands of a Dark Eldar ambush, the cowardly aliens had assaulted him and his battle brothers as they were making their way to protect an Imperial Shrine from desecration, although he had managed to protect his battle-brothers from the thick of the fighting, he was struck a fatal blow by the Sybarite leading the ambush. Needless to say he did not live to serve the Astartes any further than that, but thankfully, his geneseed was preserved, and his legacy would live on to help create new generations of Thunder Dragons. His great-grandson hoped to continue his ancestor's legacy in service to the Emperor, but first, he needed to prove himself worthy of fighting His enemies.
He found himself lost in a cold quagmire, separated from his comrades; this was the territory of the Feral Orks of his province. He steeled himself and strained his hearing for any potential signal that would give away the presence of the greenskins, and sure enough, a faint rustling noise, possibly from several paces out of view, could be heard. The young warrior had heard enough feet to almost accurately know what was up ahead; he allowed the sound to turn up louder, discerning it, he guessed that gretchin were coming towards him, a mob of them, from the sound of things.
Over the hedges, muck, and spindly trees were a small band of the tiny (by Ork standards) gretchin, less inclined to wage war, gretchin live as the under-appreciated cannon fodder of Ork "society" living out their lives as meat shields, slaves, and if the situation is particularly dire, a food source. For all the bullying they get, however, gretchin are, usually, content with their lot in life, being the runt of the litter helps to keep them off the battlefield and their natural sneakiness helps in this regard; if push comes to shove, however, they are nearly as suicidal as their savage, bulky counterparts - rushing headlong into a wall of bolter or las fire with little regard for their well-being.
Caleb pulled out his chainsword and readied his shield, he was hoping to bloody his weapon on something a little better than a bunch of soft-bodied gretchin, but he supposed a little warm-up wouldn't be too bad in the meantime. The tiny creatures must have heard the whirring of his weapon however, as they quickened their pace towards the source of the disturbance, shrieking their war cry with weapons raised. Once the gretchin cut through the last hedge obscuring the view of their target, they found themselves befuddled by what they found – nobody. As the mob attempted to find out what had happened to the enemy they were anticipating mere moments earlier, one of the gretchin looked at the muck of the quagmire, and saw bubbling in it, curious, he waded into the muck and was about to stab the bubbling to inspect it.
That was the end of him, however, when Caleb jumped from the pool and, with a single stroke, lopped the head of the gretchin off his shoulders. With this sudden surprise attack, the gretchin were momentarily left dumbstruck, something that cost them dearly as their opponent grabbed one by the arm and, with a mighty swing, threw the creature into another one of its comrades. By this point the tiny monsters had recovered and rushed at him with their crude weapons, screeching maniacally as they rushed at him. Four of them, he noted, and quickly formulated a plan of attack in his mind, with everything in order, he ran towards the nearest one and thrust the edge of his shield against the gretchin's throat, cutting a bleeding gash that would slowly kill it. When another gretchin came in for the attack, he quickly smashed the tiny greenskin with the front of his shield, and then, after downing him, stomped his face into mush.
The two gretchin previously incapacitated by being crashed into each other woke up, and joined their two compatriots to help them out, not that it would help them in any way. Caleb closed ranks with the nearest opponent, and whisked him with his hand, not a moment later, another greenskin lashed out to strike, but ended up carving through his fellow's skull, he was met with the teeth of a chainsword much later. Only two gretchin were left, and seeing no other means of winning, turned tail and ran. Caleb pulled out his trusty lasgun and popped one of the cowardly aliens in the head, his noggin exploding into a steaming pile of bloody brain tissue, as for the other one, he trained his lasgun for the leg, and fired. Instantly, the gretchin caught his burning leg, shouting curses in his near-incomprehensible ork-tongue. Caleb casually walked towards the screaming creature, clutched him by the throat, and whirred his chainsword as he demanded to know where the Orks' camp was.
"Where are the rest of you greenskins hiding in?" he demanded, the gretchin wrestled in his grip.
"I'm never gonna tell no stupid humie!" he responded.
"Fine by me." Caleb brought the spinning chainsword and cleaved his enemy's body in half. Feeling satisfied, in spite of his relatively small victory, he continued plodding his way through the quagmire, hoping to find the rest of his hunting party.
Halfway around the planet, smack-dab in the center of its largest ocean, was the cold, frozen landmass of Draco Peaks, a continent of high mountains and tall mesas, instead of a shoreline, it was surrounded by multiple steep mountains, making entering it near impossible from the surface. High above an isolated plateau on the continent stood Dragon's Nest, the headquarters of the Thunder Dragons, a fortress where only the worthiest of Ascalon's champions may be allowed to enter. Deep within its hallowed halls, the Thunder Dragons worked tirelessly to whatever end was necessary to advance the Emperor's will. The Chapter's chief apothecary, known only as the Wise Man, was busy examining progenoids, checking to ensure no geneseed was flawed by any defect, or at least, none that are potentially debilitating to the health of the Chapter as a whole. No one remembers The Wise Man's original name, only that he had once allowed Chaos Space Marines to steal the progenoid of his battle brothers in the past, an oversight he spent many, many, many years trying to correct. After pursuing the Chaos Forces alone throughout the galaxy, he eventually cornered them on a Space Hulk, and recovered the lost progenoids, which, as expected, were corrupted by the Chaos taint, and purged them to ensure they could not be used for whatever nefarious purposes were in store for them. After much brooding about his failure, the Wise Man resolved to ensure that such a thing would never happen again, and embarked on yet another journey to find a means of rendering geneseed immune to the taint, and after several years of searching, he had finally discovered it. He had found an element which, after merging it into his Chapter's geneseed, immunized future Thunder Dragons from the taint of Chaos. Many scholars and even his fellow Space Marines have wondered what he had done to achieve this feat, but it is something he wouldn't let on, after all, some secrets are best left hidden, and given the nature of the Imperium's current leadership, no one is better off knowing.
While the Wise Man was busy in his laboratories, slaving away in his studies of healing and eugenics, the vehicle bays of the Dragon's Nest were cared for by a cadre of Techmarines, their servitors, and an agent of the Adeptus Mechanicus, a female Enginseer by the name of Leda. Leda is a close friend of Zagart, it was she who he was apprenticed to during his time as an acolyte of the Techpriests of Mars, and she would later accompany him as he began his duties as one of the Thunder Dragons' Techmarines. Although an Enginseer, she had not completely surrendered her humanity over to the worship of the machine spirit, preferring to cling to her mortal coil if only because she felt more obligation to the flesh-and-blood Emperor than the Mechanicus's Omnissiah. Her most important duty, however, is to assist Brother Zagart in protecting and maintaining the Wyrm Vault, a massive repository supposedly holding all the relics and secrets of the Thunder Dragons. No one but the members of the Chapter's first company, Leda, the Chapter's chief Librarian, Elias, and Zagart are allowed inside, and even then, only those whom Siegfried trusts more than any other are allowed to behold whatever is hidden within. Those within the Inquisition are wary of the Thunder Dragons, who are only loyal towards the Imperium in what they perceived as the most threadbare sense, at one point the Thunder Dragons had even waged war against another Imperium-loyal group, a regiment of Death Korps Imperial Guard, during one of their many crusades; despite being laid off for proving (with a degree of incredulity regarding their claim) that the general of the regiment had intended to rebel against the Imperium, the Thunder Dragons continue to be observed carefully by the Inquisition; their secrets, and the nature of whatever is hidden within the Wyrm Vault, continues to come under scrutiny.
On the ramparts overlooking the cold, high tops of Draco Heights, Brother-Captain Crassus of the 3rd Company was making his patrol rounds, although it was inconceivable that Dragon's Nest would come under attack from the ground, a vigilant eye won half the times an aloof one did. As he marched along undeterred by the cold, sharp winds slicing his face, he caught sight of his fellow Astartes, a Scout, perched on the corner of the rampart, holding a sniper rifle aiming for no particular target, standing just as vigilant as he was. "What are you doing here, Brother?" Crassus inquired.
"Nothing, Crassus, just thinking about what kinds of new recruits we'll be gaining from this year's Great Greenskin Hunt." He responded without so much as turning his head to face his superior.
"What do you expect from this year's recruits?" Crassus inquired,
"Not much, just the caliber that I've come to expect out of our brethren. I only hope we won't ever have to deal with Imperium fanatics, I for one believe they are too proud of their faith to fight efficiently."
Crassus stifled a short snicker, "Be careful where you preach your beliefs, brother, especially to those who love the Emperor more than what would realistically be necessary. We are Thunder Dragons, we fight for the Emperor, not for His name or image, just heed my words when you find yourself in a gaggle of screaming fanatics who wouldn't know the difference, and don't count on them being the most efficient warriors this side of the galaxy."
"Yes Brother-Captain" Crassus returned to his duties patrolling the ramparts. At this point he wondered where in the galaxy was Chapter Master Siegfried, he knew he wouldn't want to miss this chance to see the Great Greenskin Hunt. To him, seeing the faces of new, promising recruits was more gratifying than digging his massive hammerfists down the skulls of humanity's enemies. Even if the mission was particularly dire, there was no way in the Warp he would miss it for the world, and his absence was rather depressing, to say the least, it was bad for the Chapter's morale to be without their Chapter Master at their central headquarters. More to the point, Siegfried always had a joke or two on hand when he was in a somber mood, and he definitely needed some fresh humor pumped into his system right now.
Caleb continued to trudge through the murky quagmire of the Ork lands, undeterred by the prospect of a messy death at the hands of a greenskin. It was starting to darken, the sun began to set and the skyline turned into a contrasting panorama of blues, purples and oranges, but as the planet slowly invited the night sky over the inhabitants' heads, he caught sight of a glow of fiery red behind a thick of hedges, most likely the Orks' war camp. He holstered his lasgun and brought out his chainsword, but he did not activate it yet, so as not to alert any of the greenskins, and proceeded cautiously towards the light. Hiding behind a tall hedge of vegetation, he dug through the wall of leaves and saw the Ork war camp, or at least, the makings of one: Only three of the greenskins in the camp were Orks, a Runtherd holding a whip and hazing the Gretchin into action, a Mad Dok hiding in his tent, no doubt boiling up some concoction for Da Boyz in the camp, and a huge one, probably a Nob, sitting by the camp fire, roasting something that smelled of smoked Grox. "Oi! Dok, when's we evah gonna get sum humie meat for once? I'mma tired of dis 'ere grox chops we'z been havin' for a 'ole week straight!"
The Dok rushed out of his tent, a faint of irritation on his face, "See 'ere, we'z kan't use da humiez just yet! Tink of all da fun experimentz I've got in store, an' we needz sum target praktice for da Boyz, so no choppin' da humiez yet, got it!" The Nob ended up agreeing begrudgingly, he had developed a taste for human meat, but he deferred to his Dok for victory in his clan. It wasn't easy being an Ork on Ascalon, especially when every human on the planet is out for greenskin blood, of course that hardly worries an Ork, who would be delighted by the prospect of mad humans throwing themselves into the thick of fighting. Caleb was wondering what he would do aside from the obvious, he could always rush in with his chainsword revved up to meet the challenge, but he was no Space Marine just yet, and wasting his life just to kill three Orks when the chance to kill a thousand more in the future lay before him would be a foolhardy mistake.
Caleb examined the immediate vicinity around him, trying to find some means of gaining an advantage over the few greenskins in the camp. Eventually, his eyes landed on a makeshift holding pen, where his fellow warriors had been tied up, cuts and bruises visible over their faces and clothing, they had received a thorough beating from the Orks, but were still visibly alive, no doubt for whatever "experiments" the Ork Dok had in store for them. Caleb knew his only chance of slaying these beasts lay with his imprisoned comrades, so he looked for a way to reach them. As luck would have it, the holding pen was just behind a large wall of hedge, Caleb carefully snuck past the Orks after they had gone to sleep. He quietly covered the mouth of one of his brethren so as not to cause a scream to wake to whole mob up, soon everyone awoke and huddled near him, and they drew up a plan of attack. With everyone knowing what their roles would be, Caleb and a few of his comrades returned through the hedge and set themselves up around the perimeter of the camp.
The Ork Nob was snoring loudly inside his big tent, filthy, stinking slobs of drool pouring from his maw, "Boss, Boss! We'z under attack!" One of the grotz rushed into his tent, and was promptly greeted by a massive fist ramming to his chin.
"Shut yer yappin', ya stupid grot!" Frustrated, the Nob was about to hit his associate again when he heard a loud explosion just outside his camp. He forgot about his obnoxious aide and rushed outside to see what the Gork was going on. Everywhere he looked, the Gretchin were busy trying to put out the fires that blazed near their stash of weapons, and from across the perimeter of their camp, las fire from their former captives blazed all around them, killing the grotz even as the Runtherd was trying to maintain order with the crack of his wicked whip. The Dok rushed out of his hut shouting about the commotion.
"What in da Gork is happenin' 'round 'ere!" a random hit from one of the hunters' lasgun struck him on the chest, although it did not slay him, he was pushed reeling from the strike back into his tent.
As the Nob tried to collect himself over the situation, one of the more brazen hunters rushed at him with a chainsword, with a huff the nob pulled his choppa from out of his belt and met with the warrior coming towards him. With the ease of experience the Nob contemptuously swiped his assailant's weapon out of his arm and cleaved a massive gash from his shoulder all the way through to his abdomen. "Dok! Dok, Get over 'ere right now!" upon hearing this, the Dok scrambled out into the battlefield and wobbled towards the Nob, "Get me da fightin' juice! We'z got a big fight on our hands!" the Dok eagerly produced a vial of some kind of drink held inside of it. Without thinking, the Nob popped the cap off and drank the whole of the contents in a single swig. After a few moments, the concoction did its work and the Ork suddenly found himself thrown into a controlled rage, rushing towards the attackers with all the fury he could muster. The fightin' juice that the Dok had given him seemed to do its work, as he easily failed to register the wounds cropping up on his body, he closed the distance almost with the speed of Speed Freek Orks, and quickly did away with a pair of the hunters who tried to engage him with their chainswords, on the other side of the camp, the Runtherd had managed to get the Gretchin back into discipline, and several of the tiny greenskins had scrounged whatever arms they could to retaliate.
The hunters began to pull back slightly now that the Gretchin could get back into the fighting, and the Nob led the charge, howling the Ork war cry while still fueled by the Dok's concoction. The hunting party split into two teams, one chose to bravely stand their ground and confront the greenskins head-on, while the other pulled back to apprise Caleb of the developing situation. Six of the human warriors were left behind, four of them pulled out their chainswords while the other two stayed behind some cover with their lasguns, popping a couple of incoming Grots to lighten the load on their comrades.
The Nob was among the four already, the closest one tried to lunge towards the Nob, but the greenskin threw his chainsword away much like the earlier one and dug his choppa into the warrior's chest, two of the others tried to flank him when the Nob killed their fellow, but the Nob whirled around wildly, making it hard for the two men to move in close without getting handed a fatal strike. The pair of lasgun-wielders continued to lay down some support fire, but eventually the Gretchin caught up with them, one of them tried to pull out his melee weapon, but was overwhelmed and stabbed to death, the other had better luck, managing to cleave a pair of Gretchin before suffering the same. One of the chainsword wielders moved in when he thought he found a clear shot, but the Nob grabbed him and held him in his arm, keeping him off the ground struggling in his large grip. The other warrior tried to get his friend out of his grip but the Nob managed to keep his distance, the sixth warrior was suddenly borne down by the Runtherd, and he ended up dueling with a new opponent while his two brethren were trying to keep the Nob tied up.
The Runtherd released his whip on the hunter he was keeping tied up, and choked him to death on the length of his leather weapon. The Nob threw the hunter in his hand against the other, piling them both on the ground, and with a snort, he stomped on both their bodies, the greenskin's immense weight reducing them to bloody mush instantly.
After the battle, the Nob took a moment to examine the damage the human attackers had inflicted on his camp: The stash of weapons he and his Boyz had accumulated were smoldering in a thick fireball, and most of the Gretchin perished as well, despite being relatively few in number, they were clearly a formidable force.
The Runtherd approached the Nob, "Boss, wot do we do now?" By way of a reply, the Nob turned around, stomping his foot angrily, "Wot do ya fink, ya git! When da Boyz get back from der raids, we'z gonna go get ourselves some payback!"
Elsewhere…
Caleb and his team of warriors arrived at a cartload of explosives they had brought along with them, thankfully, the greenskins hadn't found out about their stash of weapons, and right now it would prove useful, at least, for Caleb's current intentions. "What do we do now, Caleb?" one of the men asked, "That Nob will no doubt be right on our heels the moment sunlight breaks across the horizon."
"Don't worry, I've got a plan, right now, we need to return closer to our fief or otherwise we don't stand a chance." No one quite understood what Caleb had meant, but followed his instructions to help him haul the cart back to their fief, he hadn't let them down before, in spite of their losses, and they weren't about to doubt his sound tactical judgment, not at this crucial juncture. After a mile or two back towards familiar roads, Caleb and his team of hunters arrived at a long, spanning stone bridge separating the Feral Ork territories from their fief, and they stopped roughly at the middle of it, beginning work on setting their volatile cargo. "We don't have much time to set the explosives in place, everyone, move with speed," then he pointed to a pair of his fellows "You two, watch the entrance of the bridge, keep a sharp eye out for any sign of the Orks."
The warriors harnessed themselves to some rope and began wiring the bombs into the bridge's supports, in spite of the stress of their task, they knew their only hope of getting out alive was using Caleb's trap. "Are we not ready yet?" Caleb demanded, his brethren informed him that they still had one support left to wire the explosives into. Caleb knew they did not have anymore time to set up, the Orks would be upon them once they were finished and it would be certain only a few, or none at all, would survive. He motioned for a couple of his fellows to him, "You! Come with me!"
The Nob had assembled his warband after a bit of difficulty, when his Boyz discovered that their cache of guns and stuff was blown sky-high, there was much commotion about who would take what little was left. Some of the Boyz ended up getting killed in the process, but at least the Nob still had enough to take on Caleb's hunting band. They were advancing through a small canyon on their way to the bridge where the Nob knew they would be returning through, he huffed angrily under his breath, feeling irate at the thought a mere Humie had caused havoc on his camp, still, he had to give whoever was leading them credit, it takes lots of cunning to achieve what the humans had done.
"Boss, Boss!" One of his boyz shouted at him, the Nob spun 'round and slapped him upside the head, "What are you blabberin' on about!" The Boy shook his head to steady himself, "You 'ear that? Der's sum kinda noise abuv us!"
The other Boyz started mumbling to themselves about what their comrade was talking about, it took a loud command from the Nob to get them to shut up so he could listen in clearer. A whirring sound could be heard, it seemed to come from up above them, "Wat da Gork iz dat noise…?" He looked up too late, when suddenly, the left canyon wall seemed to give way and tumble over their heads, burying the lot of the Orks beneath the rocks hidden under the gravel. Overhead, Caleb looked on satisfactorily, then motioned his comrades to return to the bridge. The Nob slowly reached out and plucked himself off the dirt, heaving a loud breath as he got back to his feet. He glared menacingly towards Caleb, who remained behind to see if his trick had worked, the human smiled mischievously and turned away, and the Nob found himself bellowing into the sky, as though asking either Gork or Mork to help his plight.
At the bridge, Caleb's fellow huntsmen had finished placing the charges, "Caleb, we are ready to go, just say the word." Before anyone could make sense of what to do next, the Nob and what few remained of his Boyz had finally arrived.
"They are here! We'll never make it!" Caleb nodded his head gravely, and pulled out his sword and shield, "It goes without saying that only a few ordinary huntsmen like us would survive the Great Greenskin Hunt, men, it has been an honor to have fought beside you, but this is where the journey ends…" Before he could continue, his fellow huntsmen strode to his side, their own weapons raised.
"We cannot permit the greenskins to sully our lands with their presence, we shall fight beside you, Caleb." Caleb nodded, "My thanks, comrades."
The small mob of Orkz rushed head-on with Caleb's band. Caleb was about to intercept one of the Boyz, but the Nob shoved him aside, wanting to personally deal with Caleb in personal combat. Caleb swung his chainsword to meet with the Nob's choppa, and what a flashy clash it was, the teeth of his weapon met with the crude but powerful edge of the choppa, sparks flew and both combatants were thrown off their feet for a few moments. Elsewhere the huntsmen and Orks were busy in their own brawl. One gruff Ork brought his choppa high into the air and swung down hard on the huntsman's shield, shattering it on impact and breaking the huntsman's arm, the Ork loomed over preparing a killing blow, but the huntsman lunged his chainsword upwards, digging the teeth of his weapon into the Ork's abdomen, the blood and guts pouring all over his face, the Ork winced as the life fell from his body, but he managed to drive his choppa down over the huntsman's face, killing him when his skull was crushed into mush. Another huntsman was exchanging parrying blows with his opponent, locked in some kind of a stalemate. The Ork prepared to deliver a horizontal sweep with his choppa, but the huntsman ducked under the sweep, and started carving through the Ork's side with his chainsword, spilling his alien blood all over the ground, the human warrior had little time to celebrate his victory, however, when another Ork cut a gash across his back, the warrior winced and swung his sword in defense, managing to cut the Ork's wrist holding the weapon in place, he fell back on his rump with a thud, breathing heavily to suppress the pain, the Ork raised his fist and was about to pound the warrior into the ground, but he managed to summon the strength to bring his chainsword and stabbed the Ork in the chest.
The chaos of the melee was escalating well out of hand now, Caleb and the Nob were still fighting with one another, having cut and bruised each other, blood pouring from their wounds and gashes cut into their bodies, "Yous fink yer pretty kunnin' fer a humie, ain't cha!" The Nob swung his choppa to try and break through Caleb's defenses.
"I'll take that as a compliment, Ork!" Caleb held on tight to his shield as the impact of the choppa fell upon him, and he was thrown aside on the hard stone pavement of the bridge.
Caleb rolled over on the ground, feeling the wind blown out of his body, he struggled to clear his eyes as the blow had rendered them blurred. He could make out the vague shape of the Nob lurching over him, "You'z pretty gud, zoggin' half of me Boyz and almost doing me in, but dis is where I stomp you to paste!" The Nob raised his foot, time seemed to freeze for Caleb as he looked around him, despite the courage of his fellow warriors, they were but men, not the Imperium's Angels of Death, and they fell hopelessly in battle against the green tide falling all over them. Knowing that he would soon join the Emperor, he held his breath and braced himself, then pulled the detonator and released from the deepest parts of his lungs his last yell, "For the Emperor!"
He didn't know what happened next, save for a bright flash, a ringing noise in his ears, and the motion of being hurtled through the air and being cast into a body of water, and the whole world going black. After that, he seemed to be trapped within an abyss of eternal darkness, wondering if he was now in some kind of afterlife where the faithful of humanity joined their Emperor in death. "Get the water out of his lungs…" Caleb perked when he heard that voice, he strained his eyes open, and beheld two of the surviving warriors helping him recover consciousness, he coughed out a spurt of water as he struggled to his knees and he realized, by some miracle, he had lived through the ordeal.
Caleb limped wearily towards a nearby rock, he pulled out his leather skin flask and took a swig of his beer. He surveyed the area around him, quite a few Ork corpses were littered around the shore, some had charred patches on their flesh, perhaps from the explosion that claimed them. Caleb's comrades looked equally worse for wear, but they were a pretty hardy lot, they needed to be, since they were about to become Space Marines, and a steadfast will to live was a mandatory prerequisite. "Hey, look at this, mate, I think it's that Nob that fought with Caleb." One of the hunters approached a particularly large Ork, Caleb could recognize the large shape as the Nob he was fighting against just earlier, he sat on the rock and he started stretching his body to get rid of the remaining feeling of pain.
"Looks like we're gonna bring back for ourselves a nice big Nob head, eh?" Just as he was getting ready to lop the Nob's head off, it suddenly bolted up with a vengeance, "What in the Warp!"
The Nob picked the man up with his large hands, pure bloody vengeance etched on his gnarly features, "I'll stomp da whole zoggin' lot of you humies to paste!" He would not hold up on his end of the bargain, however, when Caleb suddenly jumped in and with a single, mighty blow cleaved the Nob's head clean off his shoulders. The huge, green head flew through the air for a brief period before landing on the lap of another of Caleb's brethren, having fallen on his behind due to the sudden surprise attack from the Nob.
Caleb strolled past his beleaguered brethren and plucked the Nob head from the ground, he smiled proudly as he watched the seemingly incredulous face of the dead Ork, "You'll make a fine trophy, good Nob, and a perfect badge of honor to prove my worthiness to the eyes of the Thunder Dragons."
"Mother! Mother!" A young boy tugged at his mother's bed sheets, urging her awake, she lifted herself from the bed, obviously still tired, "What… what is it, Castor?" The little boy could hardly contain his excitement, running to collect his mother's clothes, "Father and his hunting party have returned!" Those news suddenly made her ears perk, and she quickly grabbed the bundle and rushed to her wardrobe screen to throw on her casual wear, fixed her bright red hair into a ponytail, and accompanied her son out of her bedchamber.
Outside, Caleb and his men were greeted to the sound of rapturous cheers and waving crowds of peasants and noblemen alike. Caleb was leading the small party, the head of the dead Nob skewered upon a makeshift stake he was carrying on his shoulder. The cheering crowd gave way when his wife, Cora, stepped out from the mass and faced Caleb herself, "I… I was worried sick about you…" Caleb reached a hand out and caressed Cora's face gently, "You know I can take care of myself, Cora, you did not marry me just because of my family's name, after all." Husband and wife embraced each other in loving familiarity, and each one savored a short kiss from one another as well, the crowd cheered on their hero and his lady.
Trumpets suddenly sounded and the crowd gave way once more, revealing in garish purple robes the Duke, the ruler of Caleb's fief, he graciously carried himself through the crowd, before stopping a few feet away from Caleb, "Master Caleb, congratulations, I knew you had what it took to bring back the best prize on this year's Great Greenskin Hunt, my sincerest congratulations on your success." Caleb raised a brow, as ever, the Duke was a sniveling sycophant eager to capitalize on his own subjects' success, but now was not the time to care about his words, "Thank you, Good Duke…" then he turned to address the crowd,
"Brothers and sisters, my brethren and I had been through so much, many lives were lost to the barbaric Orks, but their sacrifices will not be in vain, let us offer our dead a heartfelt farewell as they join our great Emperor in the afterlife, and let us look forward, to a new and exciting future, for after this day, a new generation of heroes have been born! Glory to the Emperor, and prosperity for Humanity!" the crowd cheered in raucous jubilation, and food, merrymaking, and dance filled the breadth of the duke's castle's banquet hall that night, everyone was in celebration, and no one was exempt to the revelry of free-flowing amasec, juicy, thick-cut meats, and the service of over half a dozen delightful courtesans and dancers.
Except, perhaps, for Caleb, he was in his bedchamber with his wife, looking at the pale white twin moons of Ascalon, looking a bit grim, "What is wrong, Caleb? You look rather distraught." Cora left bed in a state of undress.
"Is this what I really want, Cora? To be a Thunder Dragon… a Space Marine?" Cora gently sauntered over to Caleb's spot, leaning against his strong, well-built back, "And are you not happy, with the way things turned out for you?"
Caleb shook his head, "But, I cannot simply leave you and Castor here, my grandfather had once told my father that while it is a noble cause to fight for the Emperor, I must also fight for my own people, for my family, for you and my son. The thought of having to leave your side for the greater good of man… is not easy to fathom."
Cora turned about Caleb until she was in front of him, "Then promise me this, Caleb, promise that no matter where the mission takes you, wherever the Emperor may take you, promise that you will never forget about me and Castor, I cannot bear to think of you dying, no matter how noble the reasons may have been, your death will have been a life wasted, and no amount of consolation would bring you back to me. I love you, Caleb, please keep that close to your heart when you begin your journey." Cora leaned in to kiss her husband; the last time they would ever be together for a long time, Cora hoped deep in her heart that that long time would not be 'forever.' "Do not fear my love, I will return one day, I will not perish to an undeserved death, as my grandfather had."
Cora raised her head and stared into his eyes, "I pray to the Emperor to shield you always, wherever duty takes you…"
The next day, several people throughout the fief stirred awake with the light of morning dawn. Some were unable to leave their beds due to their hangover from indulging in far too many pints of amasec. Only a few of the people of Caleb's fief arrived to see him and his fellow warriors off. The skies were clear, the sun entering into view from beyond the mountains, but there was more to the morning dawn that day for Caleb and his compatriots. A black speck was hovering against the light, making its presence known to those who paid attention to its arrival. The speck slowly began to form a more definite shape as it approached, like a giant bird with a large beak and unmoving wings. As the shape finally came within clearer view, Caleb recognized it as the flying transporter of the Thunder Dragons, a Thunderhawk airship. The Thunderhawk lowered closer to the ground, parking on a wide flat pavement with a loud shrieking of its engines, its metallic legs deployed and the flying machine silenced as the transport compartment lowered its ramp. A tall shape encased in ceramite armor strode out, gold accoutrements and pieces of parchment bearing holy text adorning his suit. His facial features were almost daemonic, obsidian-black skin and red eyes, akin to those of blood-eyed Orks, were his most prominent physical aspects.
The ceramite-armoured giant cordially greeted the young men who stood before him, and then he raised a curious brow and remarked with a vague hint of disappointment, "These are the finest this fief have to offer?"
The Duke coughed, more to point out the Space Marine's apparent rudeness, but Caleb summoned up the courage to speak up, "Not many men survive the Great Greenskin Hunt to qualify for the Thunder Dragons, and fewer still can hope to pass the intense training needed to become one."
The Marine gave off a hearty laugh, "Brave lad, not afraid to speak your mind on any occasion. What's your name?" Caleb replied non-chalantly, "I am called Caleb, and you are…?"
The Space Marine cleared his throat to address him, "I am Brother-Captain Crassus, of the Thunder Dragons' 3rd Company, I have been chosen to accompany you men to Dragon's Nest, your new home as Space Marines. I have but one question for you, once you become Space Marines, there will be no turning back, you shall become superior warriors, demigods of war, the Swords of the Emperor, but that does not mean I can take you from your families and your homes. Those of you who wish not to depart from the world of your birth may remain here, where I know you can do the most good in other ways, and those that wish to come with us, we shall of course welcome you with open arms."
For some time, Caleb and his brethren looked hesitant, he turned back and watched his wife and son, Cora and Castor, smiling with a mix of gladness and regret, pride and worry, but he knew what he had to do, and his family understood that, he would not turn back now, not after all that has happened, "I am ready, Captain Crassus, I shall make the Thunder Dragons, and the Emperor, proud." His fellows also responded in the affirmative after a while, and Crassus once more addressed them.
"Very good… come, it is time you meet with the rest of your new brothers, for I have more fiefs to travel to today." Caleb entered the cold metal compartment of the Thunderhawk, he looked back one more time at his wife and son, before they disappeared behind the closing ramp of the vehicle.
Here I was, once more, on the world I had claimed as both my home and that of my Chapter, I could hear the howling winds of the cold, snow-swept mountains of Draco Peaks, as Zagart escorted my casket out of our Thunderhawk back into our Fortress-Monastery's Inner Sanctum, where I would rest for the next generation until the next great battle required my services. I was informed that Captain Crassus of the 3rd Company had returned with his batch of new recruits, three brave men who faced a (relatively) small warband of Orks, almost all of their hunting band was slaughtered, but these brave few souls lived, and they were prepared to engage in their new life as Space Marines. As we walked through the warmer halls of Dragon's Nest, Zagart greeted Leda graciously as she passed by with her Servitor, the two exchanged friendly conversation with each other, speaking with their unusual machine-language that only those of the Mechanicus cult would know. After a few more feet of traversing the halls of our citadel, we arrived at our destination, a wide open atrium with an arcane machine of a sort built on the far end from the door, Zagart carted my casket into the machine and started wiring it in, to keep my life from passing on from the Materium, I heaved a relieved sigh as I relaxed soundly into my sleep once more.
As I returned into dreams, I could not help but ponder the meaning of this one I have had for a long time. Always, I found myself and my old foe, the Ork Warlord Blagot Gutsrippa, he was the one that landed the near-fatal blow that trapped me in my Dreadnought sarcophagus, the Ork that claimed so many Thunder Dragons in his never-ending Waaagh! throughout the galaxy. Truly, he is one of the most cunning opponents I have had the dubious honor of confronting long ago, in the past, Blagot was once a Nob from Ascalon, legends grew about him being one of the craftiest Ork on the planet, always out of reach from even the most promising of the Greenskin Hunters that tried to claim his head for their own. He escaped, unexpectedly, and no one from our sub-sector had heard from him for many generations after that, up until his unexpected invasion of a neighboring star system. In the years since his disappearance, Blagot had been building up his power from Orks of numerous worlds, merging them into his Waaagh! from aboard a huge Space Hulk he had claimed as his flagship – the Iron of Damnation. It was during one of our previous encounters that, admittedly in my hubris, I was duped into action when the Ork provoked me to face him personally, en route aboard a Thunderhawk, we were shot down by a lucky hit from one of his Tank Bustaz and I had to lead a single squad of Space Marines against a wave of the Ork marauders Gutsrippa sent out to kill us. In spite of the bravery of my men, we were inevitably overwhelmed by the sheer number of Orks sent to destroy us, I was struck down by a Nob who attacked me with his Powerklaw, and the only ones still able to fight were reduced to two, all hope seemed lost until the Apothecary, the Wise Man, arrived with three full squads of reinforcements, and successfully turned the tide to force the Orks into retreat. The rest, as it is said, was history – I learned my lesson after that battle, and Blagot gave up the fight after having incurred one-too-many losses. I wonder… do these dreams mean I'd once more fight him again in the future? If so, the chance to return the favor he had "graciously" given to me would not be that far away…
Outside the sub-sector Ascalon, an Imperial merchant vessel had been raided by a huge Space Hulk and its retinue of crude-looking ships. The captain of the vessel was whisked away into an odd contraption resembling a chair, and a bulky figure loomed over as he strapped the device over the human captain, "Okay, humie, letz see where you was goin'."
The Ork pulled a lever and the device whirred alive, the human captain gaped in pain as his mind was being prodded by the strange machine, the information was quickly scanned by the Mekboy and he rushed through the massive interior of the Hulk to the bridge, where a huge Ork, twice the size of the already large Nobz, was busy bellowing orders to his subordinates, "Boss, Boss! I've found 'em, I found where dose humiez you've alwayz wanted to stomp are at!" He got delivered a backhand to the face from his boss, "Shut yer yappin' and start puttin' in da direkshuns already, I's been waitin' too long fer dis!"
Gutsrippa, bane of the Thunder Dragons, activated the crude PA system on his Space Hulk, and addressed the whole crew of his fleet, "Listen up, Boyz! We'z gonna be in for one big fight, as sum of youz know, we'z gonna be fightin' sum 'ard humies, dese gits 'ave been tryin' to zog me fer Gork knows 'ow long? So now, we'z gonna go and give 'em a little bit o' payback! But don't worry, I've said youz all gonna get da chance for one big fight, and youz gonna get it! We'z da Orks, we'z made fer fightin' and we'z made fer winnin'! So get yer choppas and shootas and ovver killy fings! Dis 'ere is a right and proppa..."
"WAAAGH!"
A/N: All righty, now before I tell you to go press the review button, I want you guys to tell me honestly, is this stuff any good? The writing style I mean. Because this is my first, serious foray into novel-style writing and I want to start out with a good impression, now if there's even a slight imperfection to it… well, I just want to know if I'm any good or if my writing is just plain garbage.