A little writing project I started awhile ago. This time Warhammer 40,000 based. Based around a Chaos Lord by the name of Lord Skavinox, it tells of a tale of… I don’t know. Read for yourself.
Chapter 1
The bolt pistol roared in his grip, the explosive tipped shell penetrating the orks’s skull, sending the brutish creature flying back like a rag doll. An uncountable small second later, and the shell detonated, fragments of hard deformed skull and various other thought organs bursting outwards in an obscene bloom of gore.
Lord Skavinox strode onwards, armoured boots stepping uncaringly on his felled opponent’s corpse, bones crackled under the immense weight of the power armoured giant.
‘Squad Derficus, advance and cull the beasts, squad Tercius provide fire support. Squad Beelzek? Are you ready?’
‘Yes Lord’ snarled a savage voice over the vox communicator.
‘You may proceed’ rumbled back Skavinox.
The rest of his retinue had finished despatching the green skinned creatures, one helmeted warrior blasting an ork into pulpy shreds as it lay wounded on the floor, another kicked a spasming corpse off the end of his chain blade.
‘Lord, more of them approach your position’ came the voice of champion Zurek over the vox communicator.
Skavinox did not answer him, but smiled to himself, the air stank of the black ichor that was in the ork’s blood. He could taste the metallic flects of blood on his tongue. Distantly in the trees another mass of orks were storming forward, pushing and shoving each other in an attempt to get to grips with their foe first. They bellowed crude war cries and fired noisy and crude, yet effective fire arms and pistols.
But only if their atrocious aim was ever on target.
As they closed in, Skavinox and his men stood, calmly, himself gazing at the inhuman tide of green barbarians charging forward through the recoiling mists of the forest. Their leader, a massive ork, even by ork standards, was wielding a large metal claw, which crackled and fizzled with energy. It was bellowing loudly, and pushed another ork out of his way, stomping on it’s skull, before it’s corpse disappeared under a stampede of green flesh.
Undisciplined.
Shots rained down on the six Chaos marines and their rhino transport. They stood unperturbed, the hard slugs impacting and sparking off a psychic shield – thrown up by Skavinox’s personal sorcerer.
The sorcerer stood rooted to the spot, tall and calm, his black power armour with a golden trim, daubed with various symbols and devotionaries to the Chaos Gods. His helmet was elaborate, bearing a pair of horns, made from the bones of children, their tips sheathed in metal. The eye holes shone with incandescent power, his long staff, made from a strange obsidian rock with a clawed, grasping hand as it’s tip. A blood red orb was invisibly suspended above it, shimmering as it’s master focused his mental powers upon the psychic barrier.
Regardless of the ineffectiveness of their gunfire, the orks continued charging, streaming forth from the copses and groves of tall dominating pines. The creatures were almost upon them, the psychic bubble lighting up repeatedly as close range slugga shots impacted.
Suddenly the psychic shield burst with a loud thunderclap of dissipating unearthly energies, throwing the surrounding orks backwards and sending many more off balance. A warrior, wearing black power armour which was covered in skulls of his foes and wielding a blood stained chainaxe, a giant and brutal two handed weapon with rotating bladed chains attached to the axe head, had lunged forward, blood lust taking over his mind. It appeared that as he had struck the psychic shield, it had collapsed, letting the maniac free from his protective asylum.
Skavinox looked on in interest as his personal bodyguard brutally ripped through the orks who were just recovering to their feet from the brutal force of the shield collapse. Nearby Zaristus, let off, what sounded like an angry snarl, the staff’s orb blazing for a split second with it’s master’s hate.
The orks were swamping Dalfarus, howls of pain and warcries wafting back from the press of bodies. Blood and limbs were thrown about, heads fell from shoulders, the chattering of the chainaxe ringing shrilly in the morning air. More orks were coming at them through the treeline, and some of the orks who couldn’t get through the crush of bodies decided to turn their attention upon the remaining five chaos marines.
Black alien eye pupils, crude tribal tattoos, large cleavers and other close combat fighting implements turned to face Skavinox and his men.
‘Don’t bother Zaristus, we’ll do this the proper way’ spoke Skavinox through his helmet vox.
‘Yes of course Lord’ replied Zaristus, placing his staff firmly back on the ground and ceasing his incantation.
Skavinox grasped his helmet at the base of his power armour’s neck seal and removed it. White pearlescent mists vented out into the fresh air. A bald pale head was revealed, dark evil eye pupils squinting in the sunlight, a pair of sharp fangs bared slightly in anticipation.
He wanted to feel the death around him.
The orks cared not for ritual, and charged onwards screaming and shooting. One shot impacted against Skavinox’s chest plate, bouncing off harmlessly, more slugs whistled past him.
The first ork reached Skavinox, it’s muscled arm raised and ready to strike at the currently unarmed gigantic figure in power armour. Faster than any possible human could have accomplished, Skavinox had drawn his titanic double headed axe from it’s back holster. A split second later and one of it’s bladed heads had torn through the ork’s gut, spilling black blood and pinkish organs on to the floor. The ork looked totally surprised, as it’s limp form fell to the floor.
The black metallic axe heads were traced with intricate yellow lines, which glowed as he slaughtered his way through the beasts, growing fatter and glowing brighter with every kill. Around him his retinue were killing in their own various styles, Kovrix barrelling through the orks and smashing them apart with brute strength gifted to him with his suit of terminator armour as well as his already significant natural size and power.
Further to the right, Zaristus was calmly trudging forwards, his tall form easily visible above the waves of orks. He blasted several back with the flick of his left hand and expertly dispatched two more with a swipe of his staff.
Dalfarus was presumably further ahead of Skavinox, mainly because that was where most of the orks were pressing forward and congregating, the occasional limb or geyser of blood arcing over into the air. Occasionally a chainaxe’s roaring could be caught over the still winds.
Farix, a tall and fairly thin soldier, by a space marine’s standard, wore no helmet and was probably the weakest in hand to hand combat out of all his men. He danced forward, swiping and parrying with a rattling chainblade against several orks. Despite his weakness, he was still a valued trooper. An excellent shot and a great assassin. His speed more than made up for his physical weakness, spinning and pivoting, his wild greasy long black hair arcing around his face.
The final warrior in Skavinox’s retinue was a very ordinary looking power armoured space marine. He fought close to Farix, bolter shredding through any ork who came too close, a combat knife held at the ready in another hand. ‘He was not skilled enough in close quarter fighting’ thought Skavinox to himself, while beheading an ork and parrying several blows with his axe’s haft. Far too slow, and he relied on his bolter in such a chaotic melee? He would need some extra combat drilling once the mission was over. But what made Phygrus a useful marine to have around was his intelligence. Sure Zaristus was an excellent counsellor and advisor, but Phygrus could easily outdo the sorcerer in mental processing ability. But what made him even more useful was that he was possessed by a daemon, a strange daemon. One which seemed to have swelled his brain’s capabilities beyond his already phenomenal skill. Things such as targeting solutions, engine capabilities, the ability to formulate strategies and plans in tight situations, picking up and putting together intricate details and more mundane things such as alien languages and mathematics.
Phygrus fought with clear cut strategy, favouring well thought out and organized manoeuvres to defeat his enemy.
Definitely not the way Skavinox did things.
Skavinox swept the legs out from under the ork, jarring it’s aim, pistol jolting uselessly into the air. A swift strike followed, blade head smashing straight through it’s chest. Another creature took a swing at him, large blade arcing around, ready to smash through Skavinox’s skull and slay him in a single blow, ending the enigmatic Chaos Lord’s life of war, glory and death. It would eventually come about one day. But definitely not today.
Skavinox backstepped, the blow passing just in front of his face.
A close one. Too close.
Cursing his own ineptitude, Skavinox, sliced another ork’s arm off, it’s weapon clattering to the ground. He span around in a tight controlled arc on his own centre of gravity, axe held in two hands, hewing through six orks straying too close in a whirlwind of death. Several hard slugs rattled off his armour, fired by orks at close range, ensuring they didn’t miss, and that they wouldn’t have to lose their head to an armoured giant spinning around with an axe. Skavinox expertly pulled out of his spinning motion and kicked a foot straight into the body of the ork closest to him. A quick flicking arm movement later and his boltpistol had been drawn and flicked off safety and was blasting through the brutish creatures.
He loved it when he was close enough that he didn’t even have to aim.
Axe in his right hand, Skavinox knew that it would be too heavy and slow to swing in large arcs, instead he rammed it, using it’s blunt end shaft as an effective polearm, his boltpistol doing most of the other work, blowing apart green flesh and sending orks flying backwards from the force of the powerful pistol. Skavinox blasted a path through the sea of orks, they were absolutely everywhere and the Chaos Lord began to doubt that they could hold them back if more orks arrived to join the fight.
He fired a single shot into the fanged face of one creature, then knocked another one’s feet from underneath with a bludgeoning motion, pistol flaring several shots into the fallen ork’s body. Bone cracked as Skavinox strolled over the corpse, large spent brass shell casings raining down to the forest floor with every shot.
Skavinox saw the tide of green flesh part towards his far right, a glimpse of a figure, larger than himself wearing what was unmistakably terminator armour, barrelling and smashing down orks. Kovrix charged onwards, trampling through several more creatures, and slamming a powerful short punch into one ork who got in his way, his crackling power gauntlet searing and parting the thing’s flesh and bone like paper.
‘Lord’ he greeted Skavinox, joining his master in slaughtering the beasts.
‘We must breakout from here, I have little wish to stay here and be dragged down by the hoards’ sheer weight of numbers’
‘Agreed, although I don’t know if the rhino is still intact, Lord’ he said from his helmet’s voice synthesizer.
‘We’ll just have to see, won’t we?’
Skavinox began striding in a random direction, Kovrix followed, rattling off shell from his bolter upon any ork that stood in their path. Skavinox had almost tired of the poor game the orks offered, occasionally swiping or slashing through orks with his axe while Kovrix reloaded, but otherwise leaving most of the business of killing to his lieutenant.
The rhino, was smoking, cratered with shots several rockets leaving gaping holes in the armoured transport.
‘It matters not, just means more killing’ said Skavinox.
He turned around, and calmly began walking in the opposite direction, axe swinging, yellow runes pulsing with every kill. His face was a total blank as he butchered the beasts, emotionless. Blank. Controlled.
More orks swarmed forward at the pair as they cut a path through the endless horde. Powerfist crushing through bone, axe hewing limbs and heads. One ork, wearing a pair of goggles, his clothes made up of leather straps and crude plate armour, most of it blackened and burnt, came in from their side, a nozzled flamer held ready. Skavinox raised his boltpistol and fired in a single quick reflex. The shell struck the chemical fuel tank of the crude igniting device, causing a massive fireball to erupt, coating the area in light and flaming orks.
His aim was as good as ever. Although not as good as his sniper’s, Farix.
The trees flickered with the burst of light from the fire, their tall proud forms swaying despite the chaos and battle raging on below them. Kovrix was now doing what he did best, barrelling and tackling a path through the orks. Skavinox strided on behind his lieutenant, occasionally taking a shot at any ork who attempted to attack him.
They fought their way through the hoard, outpacing the orks and fleeing, cutting down anything which got in the way, behind them, hundreds of orks made pursuit, led by an ogrish overlord of an ork. Skavinox and Kovrix pounded onwards, armoured boots stamping over the dirt ground. Bullets sped past them, occasionally one would strike them in the back, but the ork’s were far too inaccurate for it to seriously worry them, and they had the far superior armour.
Fleeing was one of the many things Skavinox despised. It was weakness in the face of the enemy. Yet at the current moment it was necessary, staying on would have been total madness. The orks would have worn him and his men down through sheer weight of numbers.
The orks were struggling to keep pace with the heavily augmented space marines, they lumbered and barked in their crude guttural language. The ground began to slope upwards, a scuffed dirt path running parallel with the pair, heading towards the top of the hill, before snaking and disappearing back down. They thumped up the hill, loose gravel and rock tumbling off each footfall.
Skavinox crested the hill, from the top he saw another expanse cluttered with spaced out pine giants, the land gently sloping back down into a flat sheet. The two thundered back down the incline, Skavinox taking a look backwards, some orks were giving up pursuit, perhaps returning to the melee involving the other part of his retinue.
They reached the hill’s base.
‘Lord, squad Derficus is beginning to lose momentum, Tercius has suceeeded in destroying the greenskin mortar batteries await your order’ spoke Kovrix, receiving the reports of each squad because Skavinox was not wearing his helmet and was unable to communicate via vox.
‘Tell Tercius to support Derficus, get some air support ready for our assault on the ork encampment. Also have our cultist forces start an attack on the ork’s main defensive position’
‘Yes lord’ obeyed Kovrix.
They continued along the ground, sprinting at great speed with their augmented bodies and enhanced armour. Several mobs of orks were up ahead, filtering through the trees, most armed with the usual crude assortment of guns and blades. Some orks had spotted the approaching pair, presuming them to be easy game, fleeing from the main battle.
Shots rang out, most missing.
‘Let’s get this done quickly and messily’
Skavinox reached the first of the orks before Kovrix, his power armour offering less weight and bulk but less protection as well. He deflected a slug round with the broad head of his axe, no mean feat when using such a heavy weapon. It’s intricately carved runes began to reignite themselves as he slashed and chopped through more of the creatures. One head flew off a pair of shoulders, a gut was sliced open and a savage blow ripped another ork in half at the waist. The ork mobs were absolutely taken by surprise by the pairs ferocity, orks flying in all directions from Kovrix’s heavy impact charge. Several weapons clunked or chipped Skavinox’s black power armour, he swung about, parrying one blow, countering with a quick reverse of his double handed grip. Another ork slammed into him a he tried to bring his heavy axe up to defend. Skavinox staggered back slightly, stance off balance, he lunged out with a side kick to cover himself, striking the creature in the ribs. It doubled over on to the ground.
Quickly regaining his balance, Skavinox narrowly had a cleaver miss his head, striking his power pack on his back, the weapon embedding itself deep in the armour. Irritated, he landed a back kick into the ork’s gut, winding it, and probably doing some major internal damage.
He had to make up for lost ground and time.
Kovrix was further ahead, a battering ram of savagery, nothing could stand in his path. Skavinox hated to admit it, but at the moment there was little time for his style of finesse intermixed with decisive strikes as well as a fair bit of defensive foot work.
He swung his axe in a figure eight, hewing through several orks, then shoulder barged into another creature, the force of the impact pitching the greenskin to the ground. With strong heavy bladed sweeps while striding forwards, Skavinox managed to clear a path, bodies flying left and right, giant gashes ripped into their bodies.
The runes shone with the intensity of the slaughter.
Skavinox burst out from the pack of orks forcing his way through the maze of flesh. Kovrix was far ahead, thundering on, occasionally glancing back and rattling off shots at pursuers. Half the mob was following Skavinox, shots raining down upon him in torrents, striking and bouncing off his ancient power armour, yet he knew it would only take a lucky shot to his exposed head for the Chaos Lord to fall.
Unhooking a cylincrical fragmentation grenade from his belt, Skavinox flicked the activator stud and glanced backwards, they were charging after him, guns flaring bright yellow, blades waving in the air. He chucked the explosive device over his shoulder, accurately landing it in front of the mobs. A split second later and a loud explosion punctuated the cacophony of howling and pistols. Skavinox turned around to take a quick moment to admire his handiwork. A bloody mist had formed, black smoke hung like an unforgiving powder in the air. Several figures followed by more came rushing through the smoggy clouds, bleeding in several places, but still howling.
Skavinox dashed on. More cowardly fleeing.
He pumped his legs harder, easily speeding up to catch Kovrix’s thundering terminator armoured form.
‘Lord, we have got four Thunderhawks ready to provide airsupport, the cultists are heading towards the encampment as we speak’ reported Kovrix in a deep artificially synthesised voice from his helmet.
‘Excellent. How are the others coping?’
‘No idea, Zaristus is apparently ahead of us and the others are somewhere else, probably scattered’ said Kovrix with little care or worry in his voice about his comrade’s situation.
‘They’ll cope’
The two continued on occasionally coming upon bands of orks, who they either cut a swath through, or out paced, either one they could achieve with relative ease.
The forest began to thin out, pines becoming shorter and less prominent, in the distance, was several scattered bunches of trees and a large bump in the land. Skavinox’s augmented vision clearly picked out a squabble of buildings, hugging the side of the hill, fine details like figures scrambling around, crude vehicles revving around and a sizeable line of defences placed far forward of the camp. Flashes of light and blazes of gunfire flashed between the line and a swarm of grey dots, his cultist forces. Numerous and devoted. Also expendable.
‘Almost there, we’ll slip in after the main assault force has swarmed over the lines and the two sides are busy ravaging each other’ said Skavinox, his tactically experienced mind almost instantly working out the best course of action.
‘As you say Lord’
‘As I say? Sounds like you were thinking of something otherwise’ snorted Skavinox, striding across the long grass fields towards the distant target.
‘No of course not Lord, your plan is perfectly suitable’
‘I hope so’ said Skavinox, his gaze fixed on the battle.
It was unsurprising to Zaristus, that his master was suspicious his personal sorcerer had alterative motives, aside from serving him. Almost all sorcerers like him had an alternative motive, just what it was, was a totally different thing. Nevertheless, Skavinox found him very useful, and showed a degree more respect to him in particular. Whatever plan the warlock held was probably something insanely intricate and complex, and the machinations of a follower of the Architect of Fate, Tzeentch, rarely bothered him. Dabbling fools and enchanters.
The sorcerer sprinted from behind the treeline the pair had just left, his cloak billowing and flowing, the ethereal material mesmerising to the eyes, black essence swirling, in a ceaseless dance. Skavinox turned around, a sixth sense telling him of something approaching.
The elegantly armoured figure, bearing a horned helmet approached him.
‘Lord’
‘Zaristus, I thought you were far ahead of us’ said Skavinox, flashing a leer at Kovrix.
‘I was merely waiting for you’
‘We shall advance on. The target awaits. A battle unfolds’
The two, now becoming three set off, four Thunderhawk gunships, their dark shapes soaring through the skies above, eight pointed devotionary symbols to the Chaos powers starkly emblazoned on the wings. The cockpits were blacked out, white jet stream vented out from their rears.
The lead craft dipped down. The next three followed. Low lying cloud raced by. Their commands were clear, their target was in sight. All they needed was their Lord’s order.
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