This is your place to post any fluff ideas or short stories you may have written about your chosen army. I will be posting something I wrote when I had Night Lords soon.
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"I am become death, the destroyer of worlds..."
J. Robert Oppenheimer
It is dark and we cannot see. The sky is thick with a rolling gloom, ever present since the earthquakes one week past. We stay in the bunker since the discovery of the last patrol to venture past the manufactorum. Our hopes that they had died swiftly were in vain as the autopsies showed the gunshots were inflicted only after their skin was flayed. Two nights ago, there are no days now, there was an explosion to the south of the complex. Our investigation finding our precious few transports destroyed in some heinous act of sabotage. Our hasty retreat to the bunker was greeted only by cruel, mocking laughter ringing out in the black.
Radioing for assistance was our first thought as our set is currently serviceable. We have since given up our cries for help; the only reply received being the death screams of our fallen comrades, looped in an endless, unbearable cacophony.
It is dark and we cannot see. It has been six hours since the terrible sky-born sound commenced, a hellish shrieking that swoops over the complex through the oppressive fog. Keller, the stalwart sergeant of C squad led his men to the parapet on my order. We have not the strength of mind left to retrieve their remains, though what could be left of them now is beyond my reckoning.
We cannot sleep, we dare not sleep. I pace the corridors since the heaters died an hour ago. I found the self will to chance a look out the view port. Thick grey ash blows through the streets and obscures my gaze. Something waits in shadow.
We are in the cellar now and few in number since they gained entry to the complex. Through the flames and madness I glimpsed flashes of brass and hideous wings silhouetted on the wall by the inferno. My comrades ran to the cellar and I followed, sealing the doors behind us. When we thought of a reprieve in our ordeal the air vents groaned and spewed forth sticky crimson. The lifeblood of our casualties poured down the ventilation shafts.
The lights are out, the smell is unbearable and the darkness surrounds us. Our tormentors approach now, our barricades fall one by one. Silence, only our breathing. The doors slide open, ever so slowly. They have come for me….
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"I am become death, the destroyer of worlds..."
J. Robert Oppenheimer
Hmmm...I basically know NOTHING about Chaos...but it's soooo easy to wrtie fiction about Chaos!! It's a remake of the book Storm of Iron by Graham Mcneil...and a bit of a copy of forrix's...but its fun to read :D
Storm of Iron
The personal diary of Lieutenant Vargas
108th Infantry Division of the Imperial Guard.
We have been trapped here for almost 4 days now. Our rescues seemed to be lost in the warp. We have requested help 3 days ago now. But it seems that our cry for help have gone unnoticed.
The world seems dark outside. The airfield east of the citadel is still burning. It has been for four days now¡¦ since it all began. Large amounts of smoke floated high above the ground.
The Guardsman at the main bastion looked through his binoculars again. He could see lots of movement. The ones that have been spared form the slaughter were now employed into the army of Chaos. They were digging trenches as far as the eye could see. Those who were not doing their jobs properly were cut down where they stood. Left there to rot. The smell of the dead reached even to the Citadel¡¯s main walls.
It¡¯s now day five. Still no aid has come. We have not heard from anyone since. We grow sick from the tainted smell, the endless nights. There is no way to tell from day and night. The smoke has covered the sky. No light is seen except the steady glow of the enemy¡¯s camps. We can see the trenches are very close. There is an eerie fog brewing. We can only see the glow of the worker¡¯s lamps through the mist. They inch ever closer to our main bastions.
It is day six. We can hear them digging. We can see their lamps. We can see their shadows. We hear the screams. We have not heard from our aid still. We grow weak. We feel lost. Death is upon us. And we await it with arms wide open. Many have committed suicide. The rest are sure to follow. It matters not how strong you are physically. Not anymore. It matters in the mind. The weak minded have been driven to insanity. Eventually claiming their own and other¡¯s lives. Yet, they draw closer. So close, we hear their footsteps, their breaths. Death is knocking at the door¡¦
Day seven¡¦the last we hear of our main bastions. We heard the screams, the cries for help. We cannot help. We cannot get out. We are trapped. The soldiers stationed at the citadel grow jealous of the dead at the main bastions. Many more have claimed their own lives. We wonder if help will arrive. Everyone is sick. We must do something. We must endure. We must stay strong.
Day eight is upon us. We have done nothing for over a week now. Many more have taken their own lives. It seems that we are losing a battle in which there are no enemies, but our selves. The Commanders gather their men. They talk about attacking the trenches. Taking back the bastions. The men await the order. It is time.
We have lost track of time. It seems we have been trapped here inside this concrete prison of ours for more than a month. We now realise that we are alone¡¦no help is to arrive. The smoke seems to thicken. Breathing is harder. But the mist seems to reside. It seems like it¡¯s been over a week since we have seen the ¡®Redemption Force¡¯ off to reclaim our main bastions. We have not heard of them ever since. We have gathered a retrieval team to retrieve the dead. The fog thins out by the minute. We grow impatient to see what the world now looks like. Although we will regret to see.
The fog has cleared and we are horrified at the scene that lies before us. Bodies lie as far as the eye can see. Rotting carcasses. Everywhere. It seems many have not even left the main gates before they were brutally killed. Hunted. Like animals. The most horrific site is the main bastion. Limbless torsos of our fallen brothers held upright in awkward shapes. Bodiless heads stood up by their own rifles and bayonets. The terrified looks they have in their eyes. The horror. The smell. The site. We are all too weak to remove the bodies of our fallen. Yet we are amazed at how long we have endured. If we were to ever get out of this damned place alive, then we will surely earn ourselves a place in the hall of heroes. If¡¦if we make it out of here alive¡¦
We hear their footsteps. Their laughs. Their taunts. It seems that they are right next to us. Paranoia has grown amongst us. The survivors keep their backs to the walls. Sometimes we hear them kill one of our men. It seems they are messing with our minds. Turning our minds against us. Not long ago, I saw one of them, walking past the door. Their eyes glow red with hate. They stalk us like ghosts. They walk amongst us. We are too weak, to sick. To afraid to do anything. We simply whimper and cry as they walk amongst us. Their heavy boots thud across our hallways. Their red eyes flow across the dark rooms. Followers of the chaos are in the same room as us. Yet we do nothing. Nothing. The men have not enough strength to even commit suicide.. so they wait for the men of chaos to do it for us.
They toy with us. Give us armed grenades. Crush our hands, feet, arms, legs and heads. Rip our limbs off¡¦just to hear us scream. Commander Xavier had his limbs ripped from his body. He now hangs nailed to the walls of our once great citadel. There is a grimace look on his face. It seems that he was torn apart while he was still drawing breath. A similar fate awaits the rest of us.
Our cafeterias have been turned into butcher chambers. Toilets into body chambers. The floors are greased with blood. The smell alone is killing us. It is my turn next. In a few short minutes, they¡¯ll tear my arms away, replace my legs with steel poles. Embed sharp spikes into my limbless torso. And just before all the life has been drained away¡¦just before I draw my last breath¡¦they¡¯ll cut me open and show me my insides¡¦just¡¦just to hear my screams of pain and terror¡¦
It is my turn now¡¦my time is up. I¡¯m afraid as well as relieved. I will not have to spend another moment in this forsaken place¡¦emperor, guide my soul¡¦for today, I die.
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THey hate me because I'm a Liberal Thinker! Someone who thinks outside the Square...Is that so bad?...I got banned from B&C for that...Cheap bastards!
