The Terminator (Chaos & Imperial Guard story)
Lähetetty: Ma 23.08.2004 14:25
Tässä on tarina jonka kirjoitin huvikseni:
The Terminator
Red-orange sand, hills and craters made up the whole landscape on
this desolate, lonely planet.
It was a mineral rich world, and many new iron mines had been set up
in the area. There, an Imperial liutenant ripped a vox transmitter from the hand
of his second-in-command. A prolonged skirmish had taken place, and the entire
imperial force was exhausted. The liutenant shouted into the vox system:
"It's over men, the battle is over. We were victorious this day!"
The men, despite of their weariness, still raised their weapons into the air
and cried out loud: "Praise the Emperor!"
It was like the landscape of hell. Two imperial tanks lay in ruins, one
blown up by a well placed missile launcher shot, one with a meltabomb blast hole on
it's side. Chaos space marines lay battered on the ground.
Some still growled quietly and twitched. The sound of the battle cannons had deafened the liutenant,
his ears were ringing and he could only hear the muffled soft voice of the squad medic as he said:
"Hey kid, that's not even a flesh wound. Quit complaining and make yourself useful while I fix
Jarco's leg."
Little pebbles fell off a pile of junk that had once been a defiler.
A chaos terminator, mighty beast of steel and fire, reared back on his feet.
Debris and dust fell of his armor as he stood up from underneath the wrecked
chaos war machine. He just stared at the imperials, stupified. His other arm was
missing, but the other sported a power fist strong enough to crack open a hive
tyrant's skull. Steam blew out of the vents of his armor and his joints made
cracking sounds. Liutenant Marcus cried: "There's still one left! Look out!"
He was too late. The chaos terminator towered over a helpless guardsman who was
desperately trying to reach his gun, unable to look away from the armored horror.
What happened next, nobody could have foreseen. The chaos terminator just
stared at the guardsman, trembling. The marine spoke: "Run, you fool, run!" And the imperial
soldier fled, dropping his helmet and weapon as he ran. Liutenant Marcus ordered
the last remaining Leman Russ -tank to open fire. A battle cannon shot hit the
traitor marine straight and clean, knocking him over. The ground cracked where he
fell. Marcus was curious. He ordered all troops to cease fire, and walked up to the
now unconscious terminator.
Marcus' head was full of contradictory thoughts. His comissar was dead. The
empire had abandoned him and his men on this hellhole for way too long. Deep inside,
he thought that nobody would ever save him and his men from the cursed desert.
He looked at the marine who was helplessly lying on the ground at his mercy. He did
the unthinkable: He shouted an order to the squad medic: "Stretcher! I need a stretcher!"
It took 10 men to lift up the fusion of man and steel.
"This guy weighs a ton, and i'm not exaggerating!" Said private Tacus, the heavy weapons
expert, as he pulled the terminator who was now lying on a steel platform with a pull-chain
attached to it. Rhytmically, marcus gave the orders to pull. Sweat flowed down their uniforms
as they pulled the giant through the burning hot desert. "What the devil does the Liutenant
want with this guy anyway, has the heresy clouded his mind?" Tacus complained. Marcus heard what
Tacus had said, but decided to let it slip. This was not a good time to start pulling rank.
After a painstakingly long process, the terminator was finally in the main mining facility.
It was an underground complex, now abandoned thanks to the chaos invasion. In the heart of the
facility, in the coal chamber, the Liutenant and his crew restrained the metal man with so many
straps, cables and chains that even a dreadnought couldn't break free.
Next night, three people had gathered into the coal chamber. Marcus, Tacus and a robed figure.
"I don't know about this chaos crap, i think we should just kill the damn critter while we can!"
Said Tacus. Marcus couldn't agree. He was fascinated, some would say obsessed with the marine.
Tacus followed up quickly with an another comment: "And a psyker here too! They are mutants, the emperor
has forbidden their free movement for a reason!" The hooded figure remained silent at the remark.
Marcus stared at the terminator, speaking with a quiet voice to himself: "The emperor's finest."
Tacus' expression shifted. He was no more angry, now a sudden fear had crept in. He backed off towards
the door, and slammed it shut after leaving. A slender hand emerged from the psyker's heavy robes and glided
along the surface of the armor. "Poor thing. What have they done to you?"
During the next days, Tacus grew more and more outraged at the behavior of his commanding officer.
In the dinner table, when Marcus was away, he ranted about the Liutenant being possessed by the powers of
Chaos. He was interrupted when he saw that the psyker had returned to the dining room, and was sitting at a
table separate from the others. "Too good to eat with the rest of us grunts eh, freakboy?" Tacus said. The psyker
stopped eating and tried to walk away. Tacus grabbed the hooded figure's shoulder. "Come on, lets see what you look
like. Tentacles, horns, blisters and scales i bet!" And he forcefully took off the hood. Revealed was a beautiful
woman. Raven black hair, bright blue eyes and a sleek, elegant face. Surprised, Tacus let her shoulder go
for a moment. She took her chance and ran. The soldiers had a new talk of the day, the mystery psychic.
An isolated facility with over 20 desperate men was not a nice place for a woman to be in.
Her name was Discordia. Not a combat operative by any standard, she was specialised in telepathy,
the art of mind-reading. She had tried to access the mind of the warrior, but the armor had interfered
with her art. Only terrible whispers would emerge when she'd touch the armor. Whispers that would twist and
corrupt her very soul. She wanted the armor to be removed. Removing the armor of a chaos terminator however,
wasn't going to be an easy task. Even if heavily sedated on drugs to be completely motionless like this one was,
the armor itself was so hard that it is considered impregnable in the Imperial Legend.
Drills, buzzsaws, pneumatic presses were gathered into the coal chamber. Marcus wanted the armor opened
so Discordia could take a peek in the man's head. Sparks flew as the soldiers drilled, sawed and clipped their way through
the armor. The tools just lost their edge on the armor, became dull in mere seconds. As nothing else would do, Marcus powered
up his sword and started to cut the armor with it. Aroused by the pulse of energy, the terminator woke up despite the
heavy drugging. He violently tried to rip his way out of the restraints, and the commander fell back from the chaos marine's fury.
"Increase the dosage!" he ordered. Soon the marine was fast asleep again, and Marcus cut open the armor's chest part. Terrible green
fumes emerged, nauseous gas that made everybody cough. Wires leaking green liquid hung out from the cut-open breastplate.
They cut open the rest of his armor, the squad medic having to patch all the spots where his flesh had fused with the metal.
Troopers washed him with water hoses and stepped back.
The revealed man was an impressive sight. Countless scars and wounds old and new, bulging muscles everywhere.
The creature had no genitalia. His left arm had apparently been ripped off in the battle, but the tissue had rapidly regenerated.
He had fangs like a vampire, eyes so thin they should be called vision slits instead. His ears had been ripped off a long time ago it
seemed. He was completely bald and devoid of body hair. He had trouble breathing normal air after being in his armor so long.
Discordia grasped his head with both her hands and slowly pressed her forehead against his. She was about to enter a world tainted by a
thousand years of evil to find the seed of goodness that made this man spare the trooper.
End of part 1.
The Terminator
Red-orange sand, hills and craters made up the whole landscape on
this desolate, lonely planet.
It was a mineral rich world, and many new iron mines had been set up
in the area. There, an Imperial liutenant ripped a vox transmitter from the hand
of his second-in-command. A prolonged skirmish had taken place, and the entire
imperial force was exhausted. The liutenant shouted into the vox system:
"It's over men, the battle is over. We were victorious this day!"
The men, despite of their weariness, still raised their weapons into the air
and cried out loud: "Praise the Emperor!"
It was like the landscape of hell. Two imperial tanks lay in ruins, one
blown up by a well placed missile launcher shot, one with a meltabomb blast hole on
it's side. Chaos space marines lay battered on the ground.
Some still growled quietly and twitched. The sound of the battle cannons had deafened the liutenant,
his ears were ringing and he could only hear the muffled soft voice of the squad medic as he said:
"Hey kid, that's not even a flesh wound. Quit complaining and make yourself useful while I fix
Jarco's leg."
Little pebbles fell off a pile of junk that had once been a defiler.
A chaos terminator, mighty beast of steel and fire, reared back on his feet.
Debris and dust fell of his armor as he stood up from underneath the wrecked
chaos war machine. He just stared at the imperials, stupified. His other arm was
missing, but the other sported a power fist strong enough to crack open a hive
tyrant's skull. Steam blew out of the vents of his armor and his joints made
cracking sounds. Liutenant Marcus cried: "There's still one left! Look out!"
He was too late. The chaos terminator towered over a helpless guardsman who was
desperately trying to reach his gun, unable to look away from the armored horror.
What happened next, nobody could have foreseen. The chaos terminator just
stared at the guardsman, trembling. The marine spoke: "Run, you fool, run!" And the imperial
soldier fled, dropping his helmet and weapon as he ran. Liutenant Marcus ordered
the last remaining Leman Russ -tank to open fire. A battle cannon shot hit the
traitor marine straight and clean, knocking him over. The ground cracked where he
fell. Marcus was curious. He ordered all troops to cease fire, and walked up to the
now unconscious terminator.
Marcus' head was full of contradictory thoughts. His comissar was dead. The
empire had abandoned him and his men on this hellhole for way too long. Deep inside,
he thought that nobody would ever save him and his men from the cursed desert.
He looked at the marine who was helplessly lying on the ground at his mercy. He did
the unthinkable: He shouted an order to the squad medic: "Stretcher! I need a stretcher!"
It took 10 men to lift up the fusion of man and steel.
"This guy weighs a ton, and i'm not exaggerating!" Said private Tacus, the heavy weapons
expert, as he pulled the terminator who was now lying on a steel platform with a pull-chain
attached to it. Rhytmically, marcus gave the orders to pull. Sweat flowed down their uniforms
as they pulled the giant through the burning hot desert. "What the devil does the Liutenant
want with this guy anyway, has the heresy clouded his mind?" Tacus complained. Marcus heard what
Tacus had said, but decided to let it slip. This was not a good time to start pulling rank.
After a painstakingly long process, the terminator was finally in the main mining facility.
It was an underground complex, now abandoned thanks to the chaos invasion. In the heart of the
facility, in the coal chamber, the Liutenant and his crew restrained the metal man with so many
straps, cables and chains that even a dreadnought couldn't break free.
Next night, three people had gathered into the coal chamber. Marcus, Tacus and a robed figure.
"I don't know about this chaos crap, i think we should just kill the damn critter while we can!"
Said Tacus. Marcus couldn't agree. He was fascinated, some would say obsessed with the marine.
Tacus followed up quickly with an another comment: "And a psyker here too! They are mutants, the emperor
has forbidden their free movement for a reason!" The hooded figure remained silent at the remark.
Marcus stared at the terminator, speaking with a quiet voice to himself: "The emperor's finest."
Tacus' expression shifted. He was no more angry, now a sudden fear had crept in. He backed off towards
the door, and slammed it shut after leaving. A slender hand emerged from the psyker's heavy robes and glided
along the surface of the armor. "Poor thing. What have they done to you?"
During the next days, Tacus grew more and more outraged at the behavior of his commanding officer.
In the dinner table, when Marcus was away, he ranted about the Liutenant being possessed by the powers of
Chaos. He was interrupted when he saw that the psyker had returned to the dining room, and was sitting at a
table separate from the others. "Too good to eat with the rest of us grunts eh, freakboy?" Tacus said. The psyker
stopped eating and tried to walk away. Tacus grabbed the hooded figure's shoulder. "Come on, lets see what you look
like. Tentacles, horns, blisters and scales i bet!" And he forcefully took off the hood. Revealed was a beautiful
woman. Raven black hair, bright blue eyes and a sleek, elegant face. Surprised, Tacus let her shoulder go
for a moment. She took her chance and ran. The soldiers had a new talk of the day, the mystery psychic.
An isolated facility with over 20 desperate men was not a nice place for a woman to be in.
Her name was Discordia. Not a combat operative by any standard, she was specialised in telepathy,
the art of mind-reading. She had tried to access the mind of the warrior, but the armor had interfered
with her art. Only terrible whispers would emerge when she'd touch the armor. Whispers that would twist and
corrupt her very soul. She wanted the armor to be removed. Removing the armor of a chaos terminator however,
wasn't going to be an easy task. Even if heavily sedated on drugs to be completely motionless like this one was,
the armor itself was so hard that it is considered impregnable in the Imperial Legend.
Drills, buzzsaws, pneumatic presses were gathered into the coal chamber. Marcus wanted the armor opened
so Discordia could take a peek in the man's head. Sparks flew as the soldiers drilled, sawed and clipped their way through
the armor. The tools just lost their edge on the armor, became dull in mere seconds. As nothing else would do, Marcus powered
up his sword and started to cut the armor with it. Aroused by the pulse of energy, the terminator woke up despite the
heavy drugging. He violently tried to rip his way out of the restraints, and the commander fell back from the chaos marine's fury.
"Increase the dosage!" he ordered. Soon the marine was fast asleep again, and Marcus cut open the armor's chest part. Terrible green
fumes emerged, nauseous gas that made everybody cough. Wires leaking green liquid hung out from the cut-open breastplate.
They cut open the rest of his armor, the squad medic having to patch all the spots where his flesh had fused with the metal.
Troopers washed him with water hoses and stepped back.
The revealed man was an impressive sight. Countless scars and wounds old and new, bulging muscles everywhere.
The creature had no genitalia. His left arm had apparently been ripped off in the battle, but the tissue had rapidly regenerated.
He had fangs like a vampire, eyes so thin they should be called vision slits instead. His ears had been ripped off a long time ago it
seemed. He was completely bald and devoid of body hair. He had trouble breathing normal air after being in his armor so long.
Discordia grasped his head with both her hands and slowly pressed her forehead against his. She was about to enter a world tainted by a
thousand years of evil to find the seed of goodness that made this man spare the trooper.
End of part 1.
Ihan vilpittömästi sanon et ainakin tän perusteella olet aika taitava kirjottaja tällä saralla ja varmaan muutenkin