wingwong113
New member
At popular request, I started getting back into writing again thanks to the positive feedback I received from my fluff previously posted. Figured I\'d expand the story a little bit, give insight into the combat style, before going back and fleshing out the actual reason they adopted that particular style.
Part one of two
Brotherhood of the Red Rain - Last Stand of the 111th Faulkrin
The rain came down in sheets from a sky as black as sin, clouded by the weather, and the oily plumes of smoke constantly churning from behind the Chaos trench lines. The Guardsmen of the 111th Faulkrin huddled behind their crenellated tank traps; behind small T-barriers, and rubble piled up to make a final defensive line. Despite all their fighting, all their work to save their home, the hive at their backs, they had been pushed back, time and time again. And now they were here, essentially back to back, with considerable gaps in their lines.
Lightning struck overhead, thunder pealing across the night sky, drowning out the keening cries of the cultists that wound their way across the killing ground ahead of them. Almost. Arc-whips cracked all along the enemy line, sounding like a cut, live electrical wire, jumping and spitting sparks, driving those cultists into a frenzy. They were so close that the Guardsmen could almost feel their frantic spittle lashing at them as they flailed bayonets, knives, clubs and pistol butts in their grasp, clawing to get towards the Imperial line. The few remaining commissars stalked the line, hollow threats bellowed from behind their men of death should they retreat, though it meant death if they fought, sure as sure.
The cultists were closer now, vague outlines on the body-strewn street, against the backdrop of the ruined outer hive. Men cried, men prayed for salvation from the God-Emperor; men asked for strength, and begged an honourable death. Thunder rolled overhead, making the Guardsmen huddle a little closer to their cover, though the sound seemed to drag on, growing louder each passing second. It grew to a roar, almost unbearable, forcing some to cover their ears as they looked to the sky in ponderance of this new horror that befell them. Red streaked the sky; a single prick of crimson against the midnight backdrop. It came with such speed that it could barely be tracked overhead, until with a thunderous clap of sound, it crashed into the rubble just ahead of the Guard line.
The shockwave knocked over the few standing lamps used to illuminate the line, and what few Guardsmen that held illuminators shined them at the small crater, gasping as they saw the black encasement of a drop-pod, nestled into the rain-softened ground. The cultist line stopped, their masters unsure of what lay ahead in the cold, black night. Air hissed as the hatches released, but no light escaped from within as they thudded down into the mud. Once the popping from the rapidly cooling metal ceased, a small, computerized female voice could be heard.
\"Stasis governing protocol : offline. Main Reactor : online. Sensors : online. Weapons : online. Heatsinks : online. All systems nominal. ------- Emperor be with you.\"
Sheer confusion went across both lines at the speed of light, now doubly-unsure of what it was that lay between them and their foe. Floodlights flicked on, facing the startled, chittering cultists as a voice boomed from within, \"Rrun, herretics, death walks amongst you this night.\" A deafening clap of energy and displaced air rolled through the ranks of the enemy, a small diffuse glow of blue fading from the edges of the towering, armoured figures standing in front of the Guardsmen\'s barriers. \"To war, brrotherrs!\" the voice boomed again as a steady whine grew louder before blinding flashes of light and tracer fire ripped from the drop-pod, the armoured figures charging with weapons brandished and flashing.
The Guardsmen were still confused as the Brotherhood of the Red Rain cut into the ranks of the cultists, but the commissars behind them immediately recognized it, brandishing their own pistols and chainswords, shouts of \"Forward!\" echoing up and down the line. \"In the name of the Emperor, over the wall!\" one screamed, directly behind the drop-pod, but the men needed no goading; they were leaping forward to new fighting positions, laying lasfire down into the enemy ranks as their resolve and morale was bolstered at the sight of the superhuman soldiers. Bolterfire roared from the Marines at the front of the line, Reverent-Master MkVellar\'s assault cannon sending rounds six or seven bodies\' deep before the blended metal ammunition came to a stop, decimating the cultist ranks. Despite such withering fire, the horde surged forward.
\"10th Company,\" MkVellar addressed internally, \"The whip-masterrs.\"
All along the ruins of the hive structures around them, silent eyes watched through magnification scopes, their trap laid. They watched from on high as Chaos Marines rushed forward, battering and cutting down the cultists before them as they ran to meet the Brotherhood. Master-Scout Klainth did his best to hide his wry smile as he clicked his thumb in rapid succession three times. Satchel charges and flechette mines that had been scattered went off in a thunderous staccato of explosive force, felling most of the inbound Chaos Marines and effectively dividing the forces that were on the charge. Whispered voices buzzed into his ear from various positions of two fashions; \"On site,\" or \"Target acquired\". Taking up his own long-las, he sighted in the furthest whipper and murmured, \"Weapons free,\" hearing a brief roar as a dozen such rifles expended a high powered energy round almost as one. Heads and torsos pulped under the vicious barrage of energy, the whips falling silent, the waves of cultists no longer having the will to surge forward to their deaths. Instead, they surged away from the onslaught of the Space Marines, being chased by tracer fire, while the Guardsmen mopped up the area. It all seemed too easy.
MkVellar stomped over to the Guard position to address them, \"Such a brrave last stand makes you worrthy in the eyes of the Emperorr. Rrrest not, though, forr therre is worrrk to--\" his words were cut off as the ammunition hopper of his assault cannon suddenly exploded, staggering the Chapter Master to the side. \"DEFILER!!\" cried a dozen Guardsmen at once, running for cover as autocannon fire lashed out across their lines, tearing men in half by the sheer size of the round. The Marines immediately rushed to their Chapter Master, mindful enough to keep themselves in cover. Inside the armoured tomb, MkVellar reeled from the impact, though quickly steeled himself, turning back to face the enemy. Another crab-like defile had crested the rubble, followed by two Chaos dreadnaughts, roaring with barely contained rage.
\"Rready yourrselves, brrothers. We earrrn ourr place at the rrright hand of the Emperorr this day.\"
. . . To be continued.
Part one of two
Brotherhood of the Red Rain - Last Stand of the 111th Faulkrin
The rain came down in sheets from a sky as black as sin, clouded by the weather, and the oily plumes of smoke constantly churning from behind the Chaos trench lines. The Guardsmen of the 111th Faulkrin huddled behind their crenellated tank traps; behind small T-barriers, and rubble piled up to make a final defensive line. Despite all their fighting, all their work to save their home, the hive at their backs, they had been pushed back, time and time again. And now they were here, essentially back to back, with considerable gaps in their lines.
Lightning struck overhead, thunder pealing across the night sky, drowning out the keening cries of the cultists that wound their way across the killing ground ahead of them. Almost. Arc-whips cracked all along the enemy line, sounding like a cut, live electrical wire, jumping and spitting sparks, driving those cultists into a frenzy. They were so close that the Guardsmen could almost feel their frantic spittle lashing at them as they flailed bayonets, knives, clubs and pistol butts in their grasp, clawing to get towards the Imperial line. The few remaining commissars stalked the line, hollow threats bellowed from behind their men of death should they retreat, though it meant death if they fought, sure as sure.
The cultists were closer now, vague outlines on the body-strewn street, against the backdrop of the ruined outer hive. Men cried, men prayed for salvation from the God-Emperor; men asked for strength, and begged an honourable death. Thunder rolled overhead, making the Guardsmen huddle a little closer to their cover, though the sound seemed to drag on, growing louder each passing second. It grew to a roar, almost unbearable, forcing some to cover their ears as they looked to the sky in ponderance of this new horror that befell them. Red streaked the sky; a single prick of crimson against the midnight backdrop. It came with such speed that it could barely be tracked overhead, until with a thunderous clap of sound, it crashed into the rubble just ahead of the Guard line.
The shockwave knocked over the few standing lamps used to illuminate the line, and what few Guardsmen that held illuminators shined them at the small crater, gasping as they saw the black encasement of a drop-pod, nestled into the rain-softened ground. The cultist line stopped, their masters unsure of what lay ahead in the cold, black night. Air hissed as the hatches released, but no light escaped from within as they thudded down into the mud. Once the popping from the rapidly cooling metal ceased, a small, computerized female voice could be heard.
\"Stasis governing protocol : offline. Main Reactor : online. Sensors : online. Weapons : online. Heatsinks : online. All systems nominal. ------- Emperor be with you.\"
Sheer confusion went across both lines at the speed of light, now doubly-unsure of what it was that lay between them and their foe. Floodlights flicked on, facing the startled, chittering cultists as a voice boomed from within, \"Rrun, herretics, death walks amongst you this night.\" A deafening clap of energy and displaced air rolled through the ranks of the enemy, a small diffuse glow of blue fading from the edges of the towering, armoured figures standing in front of the Guardsmen\'s barriers. \"To war, brrotherrs!\" the voice boomed again as a steady whine grew louder before blinding flashes of light and tracer fire ripped from the drop-pod, the armoured figures charging with weapons brandished and flashing.
The Guardsmen were still confused as the Brotherhood of the Red Rain cut into the ranks of the cultists, but the commissars behind them immediately recognized it, brandishing their own pistols and chainswords, shouts of \"Forward!\" echoing up and down the line. \"In the name of the Emperor, over the wall!\" one screamed, directly behind the drop-pod, but the men needed no goading; they were leaping forward to new fighting positions, laying lasfire down into the enemy ranks as their resolve and morale was bolstered at the sight of the superhuman soldiers. Bolterfire roared from the Marines at the front of the line, Reverent-Master MkVellar\'s assault cannon sending rounds six or seven bodies\' deep before the blended metal ammunition came to a stop, decimating the cultist ranks. Despite such withering fire, the horde surged forward.
\"10th Company,\" MkVellar addressed internally, \"The whip-masterrs.\"
All along the ruins of the hive structures around them, silent eyes watched through magnification scopes, their trap laid. They watched from on high as Chaos Marines rushed forward, battering and cutting down the cultists before them as they ran to meet the Brotherhood. Master-Scout Klainth did his best to hide his wry smile as he clicked his thumb in rapid succession three times. Satchel charges and flechette mines that had been scattered went off in a thunderous staccato of explosive force, felling most of the inbound Chaos Marines and effectively dividing the forces that were on the charge. Whispered voices buzzed into his ear from various positions of two fashions; \"On site,\" or \"Target acquired\". Taking up his own long-las, he sighted in the furthest whipper and murmured, \"Weapons free,\" hearing a brief roar as a dozen such rifles expended a high powered energy round almost as one. Heads and torsos pulped under the vicious barrage of energy, the whips falling silent, the waves of cultists no longer having the will to surge forward to their deaths. Instead, they surged away from the onslaught of the Space Marines, being chased by tracer fire, while the Guardsmen mopped up the area. It all seemed too easy.
MkVellar stomped over to the Guard position to address them, \"Such a brrave last stand makes you worrthy in the eyes of the Emperorr. Rrrest not, though, forr therre is worrrk to--\" his words were cut off as the ammunition hopper of his assault cannon suddenly exploded, staggering the Chapter Master to the side. \"DEFILER!!\" cried a dozen Guardsmen at once, running for cover as autocannon fire lashed out across their lines, tearing men in half by the sheer size of the round. The Marines immediately rushed to their Chapter Master, mindful enough to keep themselves in cover. Inside the armoured tomb, MkVellar reeled from the impact, though quickly steeled himself, turning back to face the enemy. Another crab-like defile had crested the rubble, followed by two Chaos dreadnaughts, roaring with barely contained rage.
\"Rready yourrselves, brrothers. We earrrn ourr place at the rrright hand of the Emperorr this day.\"
. . . To be continued.
