The streak of light stormed straight across Sergeant Drykov's field of vision and exploded a hundred or so meters to the left of him. His respirator gave of short bursts of steam. A heavy coat adorned his body, it did little to warm his heart. Drykov strained to see where the shot came from, all he could see was the vast icy planes of Stavanger. That, and the silence was all that welcomed him. He knew the shot wasn't aimed at him, his thick winter coat gave him near invisibility.
Drykov was the only survivor of Green Platoon, Stavagen X Imperial Guard. The rest were caught and either killed or taken prisoner by the foul heretics of Chaos. Now, the shot puzzled him, was it two chaos bands firing at each other?, was there reinforcements? or was it a new enemy?, these thoughts were all that Drykov could think about.
Getting down low, Drykov pressed his Thermal Optic camera to his eyes. He scanned the scenery once again. Movement. Five figures stalked across the high peak, known as the Iron Mountain. The Iron Mountain was really a de-activated Planet Defense Laser. They figures were too far away to identify, Drykov cursed. One of the hunched figures seemed to be carrying a large object. Drykov had to find out what.
Drykov darted over to a patch of rocks, he flung himself onto the black surface as he tried to conceal himself from the Eldar's view. Picking up his thermal optics, Drykov could now get a better look at the strange figures. "Eldar, what are they doing here?" Drykov said to himself, he looked at the object that was slung over the back of one of the Eldar warriors.
What Drykov saw made him forget of the many wounds on his body, made him forget of sleep and food, the only thing that Drykov thought of was rage.
Picking up his lasgun, he ran towards the Eldar. They had seen him and were readying their weapons. "Not this time, spawns of evil." Roared Drykov, charging the last meters. The Sergeant bought up his knee into the first Eldar, he heard a satisfying crack. Flinging the wounded creature down, Drykov leapt onto the second fighter. Long arms gripped around the Imperial Sergeant as he was flung to the ground, the Eldar warrior began to choke the struggling Guardsmen. "I think not, Icon of sin." Rasped Drykov as he brought up an armoured gauntlet, striking the Eldar in the face.
"Warrior of the Imperium, cease this act of vengeance. Let me explain." Spoke on of the Eldar creatures. Dyrkov got to his feet, "I need no explanations from you and your foul brethren." was all that Drykov said. The Sergeant walked over to the hunched object that the Eldar carried with them. It was a dead Imperial Guardsmen, Drykov recognised it as Agabekov, the commander of Green Platoon, Stavagen X Imperial Guard. "Explain this, foul worms of evil."
"This human was reported to have leaked information to the chaos. We came under fire from the warband soon after we left the scene of the ambush, we also took heavy losses. We also have this map of where the Chaos are located." Spoke the Eldar leader. Drykovs face melted into rage, "F*cking Bastards, how dare you tarnish one of the Emperors finest." roared the Sergeant, leaping towards the Eldar leader. Two of the Eldar warriors grabbed Drykov, if they was a second slower, the sergeant would have cracked the leader around the face.
"PROVE IT!" spat Drykov, driven wild by the urge to set upon the Eldar warriors. The Eldar leader knelt down and removed the dead commanders coat. The sign of Khorne was scratched on his flesh. Drykovs eyes widened in amazement, "Damn the heretics, damn Agabekov." Screamed Drykov as he drew his Bolt-pistol and fired a volley of shots into the dead Guardsmen. "We must avenge the fallen men, let us go to the snakes den and rid it of all evil." Drykov shouted.
The band of warriors set out for the hidden base, it was well placed. Hidden in a deep valley of rocks it was nigh on impossible to penetrate, that was until Drykov got there. A howl of pain alerted Drykov. "H..Help me, I...I...I need a medic, they got me, they killed them, its just me and three others, the...they are...over there." A wounded guardsmen and his companions, this was most fortunate Drykov thought to himself.
"We must press onwards if we are to reach the location by night-fall." spoke the Eldar commander. "A good commander never leaves his men to die. You travel on your own, we will accompany you." replied Drykov. The Eldar troops gathered their weapons and left, trudging in the thick snow.
Drykov bent down onto one knee, pulled a bandage from his pack and tied it around the injured guardsmen. "Name and Rank soldier." Asked the Sergeant to the wounded fighter.
"Vladimir Kasaks, Sniper, Stavagen X, Sir." Stammered the trooper.
"A Sniper, got your weapon?."
Vladimir nodded, painfully he got to his feet and walked over to a small rocky patch, he called into a narrow crevice, moments later three Imperial Guardsmen walked out, a little better for ware than Vladimir. "Are you soldiers ready to avenge the fallen, are you ready to join the hall of the Emperors heroes, are you ready to have your glory?" The small band cheered and readied their weapons.
"Name and ranks, soldiers." Asked Drykov, again.
"Stavros Pakz, Guardsmen, Stavagen X, Sir."
"Kasov Navaraks, Guardsmen, Stavagen X, Sir."
"Garth Tranks, Elite Corps, Stavagen X, Sir."
Drykov looked upon the faces of the men before him. Veterans, over a decade of fighting with the foul forces of chaos had honed their skills. Each losing freinds and family to evil, they would happily march through the warp and back, if they thought it would outrage the chaos gods. They began to march in the same direction of the Eldar.
It was pitch black when they finally got to the base, they located the Eldar. "We shall launch the attack now, they won't know what hit them." Spoke the Eldar leader, drawing his chainsword as he did. "I agree, we commence the attack, how many are there?" asked Drykov.
"Around two-hundred, each fanatical and mad. We had better watch ourselves."
"Vladimir, get up that tree and cover us." Ordered Drykov. Vladimir got his weapon, donned his Sniper veil and climbed up the tree.
The four guardsmen set off, they had to pick their way through a small wood before they got to the main base, the Eldar had gone a different route, the two squads would meet up later on, in the base itself.
A rustle of leaves to the left of the squad brought their skilled reflexes into play. As quiet as night, Drykov raised his Lasgun and peered through the infra-red sight, as did the other soldiers.
A Cultist with a heavy looking weapon. It picked its way through the dense bush with ease. A strange, discordant chatter emerged from the side of the cultist. Daemons! Eight, nine... ten in total. Outnumbering by them, yet unseen, Drykov and his men had the element of surprise. Drykov counted down from five on his fingers. Three, two... one.
Drykov and his men leapt out from the bushes, "Glory to the Emperor!" Roared the Sergeant as he fired volley after volley of shots into the dark kabal. A shot from his Bolt-pistol tore the head clean away from the Cultist with the heavy weapon. Forwarding the gallant charge, Drykov held his combat knife as he ran towards one of the cruel daemons. It turned and grinned at him, fear played no part in Drykov's actions. Flying through the air Drykov smashed down with all his force on the strange creature. It giggled and screamed, the blade was firmly lodged in its vile body, Drykov stumbled back, astounded. "What Devilry is this?" Ordered the sergeant. A solid boot thumped into the side of the insane creature's face, laughing and chattering as it fell, the creature was disgraceful as it giggled and writhed on the floor. It was Stavros, "Sir, the only absolution these creatures deserve is a painful death." Stavros pulled the pin from his Krak grenade. "Laugh this one off." he shouted as he rammed the grenade right down the daemons throat. Moments later the foul beings head had disapeared in a crimson shower of gore.
One of the cultists was preaching from a dark book of sorcery, as if to summon the foul gods themselves. "Oh no you don't, the help of all four Chaos gods is nothing compared to the wrath of the Emperor, I suggest you read from a different book." Spat the sergeant, running towards the culti, using fury as fuel.
Drykov broke into a charge, he leapt in the air when he was five meters away from the heretic. Smashing both feet down on the cultists stomach, Drykov drew his Bolt-pistol, pressed it to the vile monks head. "May the Emperor smite you down with all his fanatical rage."
With half of the cultists face reduced to a bloody ruin, Drykov carried on the assault. He headed for one of the daemons, "Its time to meet you vile god, give him this message from the Emperors forces." Drykov challenged.
Seconds later a blue bolt struck the sergeant in the chest. Strange alien arms grabbed around Drkovs throat, he could not see the other guardsmen. Fear and pain began to wash over him like a black tide. Cursing and challenging them all, Drykov fumbled for his weapon.
With three sets of arms locked tightly around Drykov, it looked like the end had came for the bitter sergeant. A figure walked up to him, in his left hand he carried a wickedly curved dagger, a sacrifice.
"Any last requests, dog of the Emperor?" said the cultist in an amused manner.
"May the Emperor strike you down, evil heretics." was the only response.
A low, mocking laughter rang out around the forest as the robed figure raised the dagger high above his head. Drykov muttered the Emperors prayer, as he closed his eyes tightly.
A small supressed hiss of air, followed by a thud. Drykov opened his eyes, the dagger bearing cultist leader stumbled backwards, his eyes rolled to the sky, a puzzled expression on his face.
Drykov heard a distant shout, "Right between the eyes."
Drykov recoginised the voice as Vladimir's, the Sniper. The cultist leader was now dead, a single bullet entry in his head. "May the Emperor bless you, Vladimir." Shouted Drykov.
The scrub in front of Drykov erupted into life, all though he couldn't see it, he knew help was at hand. Kicking one of the daemons of him, Drykov shouted. "This pit of evil shall be cleansed. Glory to the Emperor....and to the Eldar."
Above the din of the screaming cultists Drykov heard the humming of the Eldar catapults, the shriek of the Lasgun, the low bass of the Widow Maker, but another sound. Tank Tracks. Reinforcements had arrived. A distant order signified the Imperial Barrage.
Mighty shots thudded into the shrine of evil, as the very earth began to shake under the fury of the Imperial challenge. Moments later, a cloud of dust was the only reminder of the base.
"The pit of evil has been cleansed, however, the roots of hereshey still live on. We shall march north to Ganamede. Follow me."
Will Drykov and his allies cleanse the city of
Ganamede?, my dear freind, only time will tell.