Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Story time

So I don't know if I am BL calibre (although if CS Goto is, anyone can be), but anyways here is the first part of a story about an Inquisitor/Celestial Lions that I have written. I am thinking of running a Dark Heresy campaign tied into these guys.

Today you meet the 1st Character: Naval Armsman Brax Kilton

The shotgun barked down the passageway, pellets ricocheting of the metal bulkheads, punching through armour and ripping into soft flesh. The arms-man pumped the action and let off another round, the enclosed space amplifying the deafening roar of the gun. Again and again he did this until no one was left standing.
Reloading the weapon he strode down the hallway, stepping over the mutilated bodies and sloshing through the gore, making sure not to slip on the slick, bloodied floor. He approached the hatch they had rushed out of earlier in response to his first victims cry’s for help (or possibly the shotgun blast that had followed) and held the barrel of the weapon up to his face, short-sighting so that he could glance around the corner. Taking a deep breath he looked.
The bullet had nearly hit him, impacting mere centimeters from his face on the door frame, but he had got the count. Five or six. Easily manageable. Especially with a frag grenade.
Grinning, he lobbed the small explosive device through the hatch, the detonation following shortly after, yet preceded by several curses from the men inside. Pulling his shotgun back up into his shoulder, he swung around through the door, firing once into the room as he crossed to the opposite side. It is best to play it safe, he thought. Knowing that every one would definitely have their heads down now, if they even still had heads, he finally entered the room, sweeping the weapon across from one side to the next, advancing with his body at an angle to the gun as to create the smallest profile possible.
As he chambered another round he inspected each of the bodies, driving the heel of his boots into their throats for good measure. One can never be too cautious.
Continuing on he came to the next hatch, which was hanging open on broken hinges. Demo. So they forced their way in. As he approached the door, fire-arm at the ready, a grenade came spiraling towards him and clattered across the floor. Without even thinking, he ran forward and dived through the open portal where the frag had come from, slamming his body against a cargo crate sitting in the next room as auto-fire began pouring down at him while the small explosive erupted behind him.
He rolled out from behind his cover and began to fire from his knee, trusting his carapace armour to protect him well enough in the firefight. Rising to his feet after taking down three of the hostiles he began to run at an angle across the room, firing as he went. Diving once more into cover, he reloaded his weapon and sprang up, squeezing the trigger as he rose, yet the weapon didn’t answer his command and instead he felt a solid slug slam into his shoulder, the heavy round piercing through the ballistic armour plating as the result of his misfortune.
He had no time to attempt to rectify his weapon’s problems, rather he picked up a stubber that one of his fallen foes had been carrying and brought it to bear. Although it lacked the armour penetration that his shotgun had possessed, firing bundles of glass and shrapnel rather than shots of solid lead pellets, it had a far greater ability to rend flesh, and none of his opponents were wearing helmets.
Jumping up and over the crate he began to fire once more, the deadly shrapnel and flechettes of his stubber turning his target’s faces into unrecognizable masses of bloody pulp. Charging across the room, he engaged target after target, the stubber blasting away, eating away at its belt of ammunition. When the chain finally ran dry he sprung into an all out sprint towards his final opponent, the hostile desperately trying to reload a small autopistol, fumbling with a new magazine. By the time it was slammed home though, the arms-man was upon the man, smashing the butt of his gun into his adversary’s face, crushing the combatant’s skull in one mighty blow.
Dropping the stubber in favor of his foe’s loaded autopistol, he moved back across the room with caution, un-jammed his shotgun, and then proceeded onwards. He advanced down the passageway opposite of the one he had entered the room. Every hatch he passed was handled with extreme care, covering the open area and the room beyond the entire time he passed before it. Finally he reached the end of the hall and his objective. The large steel door read “Comm. Room.”
He reached up to his comm-bead and spoke, “I have reached the target, preparing to neutralize.” Unclipping two grenades from his belt and unpinning them, he made ready to take the room. Throwing open the door, he tossed both grenades in while taking stock of the situation. As the two grenades clattered across the floor, he shut the door, allowing the heavy hatch to contain, and even amplify, the explosion that ensued. After some frantic shouting came two distinctive bangs, which were in turn followed by pathetic moaning. He entered the room, shotgun at the ready. The grenades had rendered all combatants helpless, so he proceeded to neutralize them, using his recently acquired autopistol. Two shots apiece, one in the heart, one in the head, and it was all over.
“The Comm. Room has been taken,” he said into his comm-bead. “I repeat the Comm. Room has been neutralized. Station clear.”
“Well Mr. Kilton. Outstanding job.”
The naval arms-man turned around, bleeding, worn, and low on ammo, yet still with he weapon raised, to see who the unknown speaker was.
“I could use a man like you,” the figure said.
Brax Kilton could muster no response, rendered speechless by the stylized =I= emblazoned upon the man’s chest.

SOOO thats that. Want more? Hopefully you do. There will be more in the future, but expect for my next post to be something actually DOWNLOADABLE. I am working on a cool Apoc./Campaign formation, so keep a sharp eye out.