Tuesday, 28 January 2014

Lore: Mekidius Sirak and the Avenged (Part Three)

Part one: Fear and vengeance

Part two: Fight for power

Part three: the rebel's failure

Mekidius made it as far as the storm eagle's assault ramp before being struck by a frag missile, fired by the delayed Night Lords reinforcements. They refused to follow their new self-proclaimed leader, and attacked Mekidius and his rebels.

The frag round struck his power pack, the shockwave and flying debris throwing him down and slamming him into the assault ramp of his craft. The blast destroyed his power pack, sending chunks of armour flying. Several shards of power pack sliced the skin of his head. He coughed blood and struggled to turn around, without the power pack his armour became heavy and cumbersome. Blood dripped down his skull, his Astartes biology coagulating his life-blood rapidly, staining his head a dark red. He turned around to see his brothers betraying him.

Most of his followers had made it to the assault craft for extraction. Four members of his squad had been cut down by enemy fire; a fifth was crushed under the treads of a Rhino apc. Now only the Predator tank 'The Harlot's Beast' and the dreadnought Nightmare remained, holding off the enemy until they too were embarked in the Thunderhawk.

A massive mutated beast came lumbering over the brow of the courtyard, an obliterator from the Cult of Sorrow. Large fleshy arms split open, revealing plasma cannons, aimed directly at Mekidius. Two bolts of blue plasma streaked through the air: this was it, he thought. Two twin-suns exploded, filling the courtyard with blinding light. Mekidius opened his eyes, expecting to see the faces of his fickle gods. But no.

The looming shadow of Nightmare filled the assault bay. The silent machine had taken the shots. Molten metal dripped from the armoured sarcophagus, burning away the crafted hellish icons and scorching the blue armour to a flaky black. And yet Nightmare still lived, great plumes of blue tinged smoke erupting from his exhaust stacks as the warrior's adamantium tomb melted away. He braced and fired back, a green plasma bolt striking the enemy obliterator and liquefying the flesh-machine instantly.

The metal doors of the Storm eagle closed, and the craft took off, enemy fire bouncing off its armour. Mekidius dragged himself to a viewing port. He could see the Thunderhawk below. The crew of The Harlot's Beast had secured the tank and boarded the craft. Nightmare was backing up into the craft, shots sparking on its battered armour before going out of sight as the Storm Eagle banked to avoid anti-air fire. Mekidius hoped his silent friend would make it off-world.

No comments:

Post a Comment