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7/21/2025, 12:53:25 PM
It is easy enough to follow the orks. They are, even at the worst of times, unstealthy creatures, and they leave litterings and signs of their passage wherever they go. Usually in the form of dead gretchins, but sometime you find a piece of excrement, or scuffle marks in the dirt where they’ve fought each other to relieve boredom when there’s nothing else to fight. The foul xenos, for all their ferocity, are simple creatures, singleminded, yet deadly. But from what you have seen, there are only feral orks on this world, and they lack even what little sophistication their cousins whom you have fought on countless worlds possess. These seem to be little more than mindless beasts, roaming in search of a new fight, being a menace to the Empire and their squat allies and whatever else inhabits this world. You will be glad to put an end to their wretched existence.
It is some time later when you come to the impact site. It has been trampled almost beyond recognition, but the land bears the distinctive mark of an impact crater, and a little beyond, there is the body of one of your brothers. His distinctive white armour stands out stark against the dark landscape. An apothecary. You rush over, but the orks have been here, and he is already dead.
He bears no wounds, and there are no ork corpses here, meaning that he died on impact. But his body has been desecrated, parts of his armour pulled off and his narthecium smashed to bits. His helmet is also missing. You recognise him. It is Brother Maurer. He had fought beside you in many battles of late, saving the lives of several of your brothers, and extracting their precious gene-seed when he could not. You remember how fiercely he fought during the fall of your Fortress-Monastery, one of the last to embark upon the evacuation hawks. A true warrior of the Knights Celestial.
You dig your second grave of the night, the work weighing heavy on your soul. But you will not tire, not while these foul orks still live. Pouring the last patch of dirt on the mound, you take his pauldron, bearing the silver lion of the Knights Celestial, and lay it gently on top of the grave. You set off at once, on the trail of the orks, intending to slay them all.
It is some time later when you come to the impact site. It has been trampled almost beyond recognition, but the land bears the distinctive mark of an impact crater, and a little beyond, there is the body of one of your brothers. His distinctive white armour stands out stark against the dark landscape. An apothecary. You rush over, but the orks have been here, and he is already dead.
He bears no wounds, and there are no ork corpses here, meaning that he died on impact. But his body has been desecrated, parts of his armour pulled off and his narthecium smashed to bits. His helmet is also missing. You recognise him. It is Brother Maurer. He had fought beside you in many battles of late, saving the lives of several of your brothers, and extracting their precious gene-seed when he could not. You remember how fiercely he fought during the fall of your Fortress-Monastery, one of the last to embark upon the evacuation hawks. A true warrior of the Knights Celestial.
You dig your second grave of the night, the work weighing heavy on your soul. But you will not tire, not while these foul orks still live. Pouring the last patch of dirt on the mound, you take his pauldron, bearing the silver lion of the Knights Celestial, and lay it gently on top of the grave. You set off at once, on the trail of the orks, intending to slay them all.
7/21/2025, 11:55:54 AM
>>96144738
The setting has medicine so far exceeding ours that they can revive a dead person shot with a huge bolter or Tyranid bioweapons.
The setting has medicine so far exceeding ours that they can revive a dead person shot with a huge bolter or Tyranid bioweapons.
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