Credits & Info
- 4.60 / 5.00
Share this submission?
You are free to copy, distribute and transmit this work under the following conditions:
- You must give credit to the artist.
- You may not use this work for commercial purposes unless you make specific arrangements with the artist.
- Share Alike:
- If you alter, transform, or build upon this image, you may distribute the resulting creation only under a license identical to this one.
Space Marines occupy the ridge of a plateau on an alien planet. The Dark Angels lead the charge of a full scale invasion for the Imperium of Man. The oldest chapter of ancient soldiers twisted into fanatical killing machines, devoted to their God Emperor, they are the tip of the spear into this unknown world. Told to hold the line at one of numerous landing positions, the Commander has been informed he is the smallest squad of the armies occupied in this region. A prime target as the first strike from the enemy, but no matter...Six hardened Space Marines were plenty to stop indigenous alien recon.
"Tau..." the Commander muttered. "Where's the sport?"
A space marine manning the Heavy Bolter shifted. No movement over the terrain before him. "I hear these heretics recruit other aliens to join their cause, Commander. It could provide us with a glorious challenge, diversifying our kill score"
The Commander peered over the distance. They had the high ground, and his ancient eyes were assisted by advanced, sensitive prototypes. If there were any doubt they were in danger, this kind of banter would be strictly prohibited. Weighing his mighty hammer on the ground, he spoke. "It's more likely a practice of pathetic desperation, and the Kroot you speak of are a primitive lot. We'll burn them each off this accursed rock. Trophies for the Emperor, all, those cunning creatures..."
"No better than the Eldar, really." another squad mate muttered into his helmet communications.
"It may shock you to learn the extent these aliens resist death in futility." the Commander spat. "Not unlike our Dreadnaughts, some heavy assault attachments of the Tau use armored mech suits. A walking platform of lasguns and missiles...only these scrap insects can FLY up to-"
Suddenly, their acute hearing picks up something in the distance. A sound bouncing off the rocks. They all heard it. Two thumps...another. With a pause, the hardened veterans of war readied themselves, but without a direction to focus on maintained the perimeter they had gained upon the plateau. They would hold this zone at ALL COSTS for the glory of the Emperor.
A colossal scream! That of jet engines and fire, echoing through the landscape, but close! And in an instant, a hulking figure shot upwards from beneath the very cliff they stood upon. The Space Marine's guns readied at the target skyward, into the sun at its back. Missiles screeched and flailed from the target and pounded the ground with mighty punches. Stun rounds! The Commander, blinded. Squad, incapacitated.
The order was given to destroy, and the disheveled Space Marines lifted themselves to open fire. But from thin air, lasers blasted them from all sides.
"Damned cowards are cloaked! No better than the Eldar indeed!" One Marine belted.
"Shoot the source!" The Heavy Bolter began mowing down a patch of blue pulse fire. But the cacophony of noise indicated more were coming. By jetpack, by landing, their numbers grew on the plateau as the electric barks of laser fire smothered each Marine. A heavy thud, and before them stood the only visible target; a tall Tau crisis suit blasting marines in the head at close range with an over sized Ion Cannon.
"Sir!" A Space Marine yelled, "Rifle is broken, this armor is too thick for my knife!"
The stunned Commander reeled. "Take it apart with whatever you got!"
Devoted, the Space Marine, harassed with laser fire, fumbled through a toolkit for a screwdriver, hoping to take it apart plate by plate. The crisis suit merely crushed the fool underfoot.
The Commander still stunned, struggling to reset his optical instruments, is too late and the assault ended too quickly. With every slap of heated light, his Space Marines were rapidly being cooked alive in their suits. Though designed to resist the brutality of the sun, their life systems overloaded and failed. Some collapsed in a heap. Others died standing, propped against the rocks. As the sounds died off, his vision recovered, and there before the Dark Angels commander stood the leader of his enemy.
"Join us." spoke the Crisis Suit.