Fuck, I realized that I am capitalizing every He and His a little while ago and kept correcting that but I knew that I will fuck up sooner or later. 
Well, IT'S NOT LIKE GHAZKULL CAN'T BE EMPEROR. I MEAN YES, GHAZKULL CAN'T BE BUT THIS GHAZKULL MIGHT BECAUSE HE'S ACTUALLY HUMAN. I MEAN... UH.
MWAHAHA. ahem. You can post it for all i care, it was just some random writefaggotry i came up with on the spot.
- The Young Neophyte was afraid. He was cowering behind the broken corpse of his paladin. The things he had seen today...the horrors. His mind grasped for prayers like a drunk Ork for his choppa, his mouth formed empty words but the frequent terror-induced stutters and gibbers prevented even the simplest litanies.
What should have been a simple support mission had turned into wholesale slaughter as the demons tore in from the beyond. No one had ever told him of these terrors. Nothing had prepared him for the reality of fighting Heretics. Around him the Neophytes were torn apart as the Bloodletters gorged themselves. Paladin Renard was somehow still alive, propped up against a nearby boulder, he was emptying his bolt pistol into a not at all impeded Bloodletter gleefully feasting on the paladins legs.
When a shadow fell over him he knew it was over. Soon his soul would be devoured and his existence end. He would not sit with his fellow brothers at the side of the emperor...he would instead be tortured until the end of tim-
"Get up."
That was no demonic voice. Fearfully the Neophyte looked up and stared into the eyes of a man much smaller than him. Gaunt, tired and haunted. The face of someone who had seen too much...his eyes...his eyes were-
He held his hand in front of the Neophyte who stared dumbly at it for a moment before grasping it and rising. He was now towering above him. Standing, the Young Neophyte could see that the man was wearing the garb of a guardsman...88th. He somewhere hea-
"Get your gun, mount a bayonet and follow me."
He stared with shock at the man. a Simple Guardsman...against Demons of Khorne? While he was still contemplating this, the man charged the Demons with his bayonet mounted on a hellgun, silently, his mouth turned upwards in a rictus grin. The fool was gonna...
---------
The Bloodletter realized that what he had swallowed was certainly not a pineapple, when the krak grenade tore him apart in a shower of blood and organs.
The second bloodletter realized that this was gonna be a terrible day when a little man glided through the remains of his kin constantly firing his hellgun into his gut before sinking 45 centimeters of Kriegan Steel in its gut.
The Third one was prepared when the little human had finished disembowling his remaining kin. He readied his sword and bellowed a challenge. It was odd that one of the tiny men was a greater challenge than the knights of this so called emperor, but he would take his pleasure wherever he got it.
"Little manling, I am Kh'tar, slayer of a thousand enemies, i challenge you!"
He roared at the little manling, he had killed two of his brethren, such a combatant deserved some respect.
The little man with the Aquila imprinted on his face looked blankly at the bloodletter. His head tilted as if this was something he hadn't seen before.
"We are Regiment"
---------------------------------------
The Neophyte watched, shaken, his mouth involuntarily uttering praise to the emperor as the single Kriegan Korpsman fought the Bloodletter. The man moved with a skill and speed that was frankly impossible for an unaugmented human.
Even so, fighting a Bloodletter head on in close-quarters was dangerous even for a space-marine and more so for this Korpsman. the Bloodletter moved with inhuman speed and grace and soon the Korpsman was bleeding from a dozen wounds.
Suddenly the Korpsman was impaled on the sword...it was over.
Except he started laughing. It was hollow. Hoarse. Empty. The man was grinning at the Demon of Khorne as if he had won.
"In Death - release." were his last words before he dropped the krak grenade between the two.
-----
He awoke amidst the ruins of a battle...his battle. the Demon corpses had long dissolved, the Black Templars had brought theirs home. Only he was left amid dried blood and gore.
Slowly he rose.
With an imperceptible slump he marched into the direction of the nearest settlement.
The Emperor was not satisfied with his atonement yet.
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Topic: WH40K discussion thread: from Tyran's heart I stab at thee. (Read 965242 times)