Hey folks, here’s my part of the “Story Challenge” David wrote about yesterday.
”Heads up maggots, I heard something.” Sergeant Lorgath’s voice crackled over the vox, followed by the affirmative clicks of his squad.
Pompous ass, Saul thought, hefting his flamer and staring out into the humid night. He was bareheaded, unlike his fellow Red Corsairs, his shaven head and pale, grim face accentuated by the eight pointed star of Chaos tattooed over one eye. He spat in the direction of the sergeant, who in turn narrowed his eyes at the insubordination.
Lorgath was the only Corsair apart from Saul who shunned a helmet. Instead he flaunted the small buds on his forehead that would some day grow into a pair of horns – a mark of favor from the Ruinous Powers. And the reason Saul loathed Lorgath so.
What had the sergeant done that Saul hadn’t? Wasn’t it Saul who had put an entire barracks of sleeping Cadians to the torch? And wasn’t it he who had blasted scores of Ultramarines into oblivion, melting their faces to black sludge with his precious weapon?
His thought were interrupted by a shadow flickering in his periphereal vision, and he spun to face it, flamer at the ready. The jungle in front of him was seemingly empty, event to his superior senses. He was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of what lovely targets they must be presenting; their red armor standing in sharp contrast to the green backdrop of the trees.
As in affirmation to that thought there was a grunt to Saul’s right and brother Krymos slumped to the ground, bolter falling from nerveless fingers and a jagged splinter protruding from one of his helmet’s eye lenses. It took Saul a split second to realise what had happened.
”Xenos attacking!” he roared, igniting his flamer. Next to him his brothers opened fire at the slender shadows flickering between the trees, the staccato of their bolters punctuated by the deeper booms of brother Vaar’s heavy bolter and the monstrous snarls of sergeant Lorgath. Bloody poser, Saul thought bitterly.
Saul registered two pale shapes hurtling toward him, knives flashing. To his surprise he saw two scantily clad women charging him with feral snarls on their faces. He blocked one knife with his forearm and punched one of the witches in the face, splintering teeth and sending her sprawling straight into the line of sight of brother Vaar. An instant later all that remained of her was a red mist falling to the ground with a splash.
The other Eldar kept on slashing at Saul in a flurry of strokes, leaving bright silver scars on his red armor. Saul’s hand snaked out, lightning fast, cathing her wrist and throwing her to the ground. Her snarl of pain, disturbingly like a moan of pleasure, ended when Saul put a foot to her chest and pinned her down.
He stared down at the writhing shape beneath his foot, at her beautiful eyes with their dilated pupils, at her face and body and at her tongue flicking out of her mouth, licking her lips. She was moments from death, and enjoying it.
All xenos are filthy and insane. They must be destroyed, Saul thought, and pulled the trigger of his flamer. Her moans of pleasure turned into shrieks of pain. Saul took a deep breath as the beautiful woman beneath him was charred and starting to crumble, revelling in the mouth watering smell of roasting meat and promethium.
He pretended that it was Lorgath who was burning at his feet, and smiled. They must be destroyed, as must the rest of my enemies …