Here to start the new year off for the story with a tale from the traitors end. Next week will be form the loyalist. I will be doing at least a chapter or two a week but anyhoots enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN WARHAMMER!
The dying warrior reached for him. An emerald gauntlet extended towards him.
The fire of his eyes burning bright through his visor lenses. He thumbed the trigger of his bolt gun, a shot rang out, the round piercing the warriors chest and bursting his heart.
Smoke seeped from his weapons barrel, a fist sized hole in the Salamander's chest. The fire of his eyes died out, his extended arm falling to the ground with a thud.
Around him his brothers were doing the same. Warriors garbed in armor of bone pale right and sickly green scouring the battlefield executing the wounded warriors of the loyalist legions. The sons of the XIV legion were thorough.
They would ensure that there were no survivors on this battlefield. They had been merciless in their initial attack. Gunning down the loyalist as they came back to lick their wounds from the initial assault against their comrades.
They had been ruthless, releasing the life eater virus on salamanders 14th company during the assault. None would survive their first.
He heard death cries not too far from him. He watched as a Raven Guard legionairy was gunned down as he tried to crawl away from his executioners.
He looked towards his brothers in arms. His Death Seeker Squad each wore the centurion like Mark III power armor.
They had been formed after the initial onslaught to ensure that no loyalist remained alive on the planet.
They, like many others, were experts in slaying fellow Astartes. They had gotten a taste of Astartes Blood on Issavan III when they killed their brothers too stubborn to listen to follow their Primarch.
Too stuck in their devotion to the Emperor. There they were bloodied and it was there that they honed their true skills.
He stepped forward, kicking aside a battered black helm. The weight as he felt his foot connect with the helmet let him know the wearer's head was still inside.
Probably decapitated during the World Eater's assault. As mindless as they were in their frenzy, he had to respect them.
They made sure none were left alive in their wake. They did leave a mess though.
Scattered limbs and carcasses adorned the battlefield. They had to be careful around them.
Many times the World Eater's would lose themselves in their frenzy and attack friend and foe alike. It was for that reason they kept their distance.
Allowing them to be the vanguard till their intervention was deemed necessary.
"Sector clear." Voxed Brother Solun.
He motioned to himself and Ussax to move forward. He nodded, continuing his trek forward.
Resistance had been minimal so far.
The loyalist had been effectively routed. Legions and squads separated they generally stumbled upon lone legionaries or squads of broken warriors.
They offered little to no challenge.
They each died all the same.
As they trudged forward, Solun raised his fist motioning for them to stop. "Heard something.." he stated.
As if to confirm this a shot rang out, taking with it Brother Ilyaster's head.
His body fell as the attackers made their presence further known. A team consisting of two Raven Guard, a salamander and an Iron Hands legionairy.
His squad returned fire, moving forward. One of the Raven Guard was down, his armor cracked open by their combined bolt fire.
The two groups had closed the distance between them now.
Brother Ussax charged the Salamander, brandishing his chain sword. The warrior raised both hands, and released a wave of flame from his gauntlets.
Ussax was bathed in pure promethium. However, the thing that made the Death Guard so deadly and set them apart from their cousin legions was not the way they fought or their skill.
It was their death defying relentlessness. They would not stop until the deed was done no matter how fatal the wound.
Brother Ussax continued forward even as his body burned. Others would have accepted death right then and there.
Falling to their knees as they flesh burned away but not the scions of Mortarion. Ussax in his last moments trapped the Salamander in a deathly embrace.
As he burned so too did his killer. The two burned together, the salamander muttering howling in rage and desperation as he fought to get Ussax off him and extinguish the flames.
In the corner of his eyes he saw Solun engaged in combat with the Iron Hand. The warrior wielded a Thunder Hammer and swung it at Solun. Each time Solun dodged the blow, slicing at the cabling which ran through the warriors. With each slice of his knife, a new wound made.
The slower he got. Eventually with his last swing, Solun ended the charade, closing the distance and planting his bolt pistol under the warriors chin and firing away.
The Iron Hand's cranium exploded in a mess of bone and brain matter. All that was left was the Raven Guard.
The lone Raven fired upon him as he closed. Bolt round pinged off his armor, chipping ceramite. A lucky shot connected though, clipping his thigh and lodging itself deep within.
This did not stop him however as he barreled shoulder first into the warrior. The two fell onto the ground and tousled for dominance.
He came out on top, literally straddling the warriors chest and pinning him down. He unsheathed his knife and plunged it down into his throat and dragged it.
The Raven Guard choked on his blood, dying gurgles being his last actions on this plain. He stepped off, removing the knife from the dead warrior.
He flicked a majority of the blood off the blade then wiped the remainder off on his vambrace.
He looked at his leg, where the Bolt round had hit. He would need medical attention in the long run but it wouldn't halt him from his duties any time soon.
He hoped it healed or clotted at the least.
Many of his other wounds hadn't.
Since Issavan III each wound he took on took longer to recover than the last. Many of them had even got infected and began to fester.
Pus and crude scarring filling the wounds.
His case was not the sole one in the legion. Many of his other brothers were reporting the same thing.
Wounds got worse as time went on, becoming infected and full of disease.
Many warriors even attested to maggots and other foul insects trying to inhabit the injuries.
When he could he would report to the Apothecary to get treatment for his leg.
This did not bode well with him.
Well that's that. Hoped you guys liked it..and I wonder if ya know which chaos god that is with his stinky paws on them. Easy answer but I'll see you guys next week with the next chapter!