Winning Vote
[ ] Plan Age of Reconstruction
-[ ] Remorse. (Earn Trait: Penitent to my Failures)
-[ ] To the East, to the las-fire and cries of mortals.
Luther
The hordes of the Tyranids were pressing towards him.
Luther felt tears run down his filth-covered checks as he fired his auto gun as quickly and accurately as he could. He was ignoring the pain in his shoulder, ignoring the fact that he had soiled himself. Ignoring that, his teachers and his upper-class mates all had died two minutes ago. Ignoring that, he was just a fourteen-year-old boy, an orphan, and a cadet of the Schola Progenium.
He shouldn't be here, but at this moment, Luther and the rest of his class were the only ones left between the cathedral of the Blessed Ferrus Manus and all the civilians in it.
They were the last line, and they soon would die.
"Persephone!"
The cry cut over the chittering of the swarm, and for a short moment, Luther saw Drill-Abbot Dickings rise out of the heavy bolter position he had manned until the end. The Drill-Abbot had only one leg left; he held a belt of grenades in his hands. For a short moment, their eyes met, and Dickings sent Luther one last, wide grin until the granats exploded. A ball of flames and shrapnel grew from the position of the Drill-Abbot and consumed a large part of the swarm. Cutting a hole into it allowed the Cadets to kill the last swarming Hormagants quickly.
"Aim and shoot! Preserve ammunition! Each shoot to kill a Xenos!"
Chaiphas, the last of the Commissar Cadets, shouted as he passed behind the line of the firiering Cadets. Not older than Luther, he didn't look better than himself. The battle had cost Chaiphas an arm, and he looked pale, but his shots of encouragement were still loud enough to cut through the fighting noise.
At least Chaiphas hadn't shit himself, Luther thought grimly as the Commissar Cadet put three magazines down next to Luther. Somehow, he couldn't help but chuckle at that. What a pitiful way to day, his pants shit and pissed - not the end he had always imagined he would get. It was a last stand, but he hadn't expected to feel like this. There was no heroism, no great deeds, only death and the knowledge that when they inevitably failed, the civilians would all be killed.
"Just hold," Chaiphas shouted over the noise of the weapons and screeching of the Xenos again. "Soon, the Space Marines will be here. The Abbot promised they would be coming, so they will!"
The Abbot is dead, Luther thought darkly as he reloaded his auto-gun.
And he always said the thing that would kill him wasn't borne yet
. Didn't think about grenades, did you, Dickings?
Retaking aim, Luther fired his auto-gun. His shoot hit a Hormagant, not killing it but wounding it. Four more shots were needed before the disgusting creatures finally fell. It was quickly trampled by another Xenos, uncaring for the death of its comrade.
This wasn't a new scene.
Luther had seen it often play out. Nevertheless, it took away from the small pile of hope he still carried around with him. If these things were so uncaring for their kin, how could one defeat them in the first place?
All his classmates and himself were doomed to die here.
The Space Marines wouldn't come.
There were no heroes left.
The Cathedral of the Blessed Farrus Manus was doomed to be stormed.
The civilians in it were marked for slaughter.
Persephone was on its last leg.
The end was nigh.
Somehow, Luther felt numb to all of this as he continued to shoot his weapon. He was only going through the motions of what was expected of him. Nothing more, nothing less. Until it was time for him to die, a detached part of his mind noted the distance the Xenos were now. Going by this, he had three more minutes than his time was up.
The fourteen-year-old boy snorted.
"Can't shit my pants anymore," he mumbled as he fired another burst.
That thought gave him some peace.
Horus
As you approach the sound of las-guns, get replaced by the sound of auto-guns fired in semi-automatic, frantic fire. As you jolted through ruins of houses and debris that littered the street, you noticed that most of the Xenos you saw were of some worker type. They ignored you when approached or scattered into the shadows. It seemed that the hive mind that controlled had sent its warriors elsewhere. And it wasn't hard for you to find the reason for it as you pressed your back against a wall next to a burned-out window. Glancing outside, you saw a large temple of some sort.
The temple was covered in statues of space marines, humans, and imperial symbols. But over the large entrance, a single head with closed eyes looked down at anyone entering.
It was a crude imitation but meant to be your brother, Ferrus Manus.
You started at the crude stone head of your beloved brother with his closed eyes.
It looked peaceful.
And it reminded you of the crimes you had committed and the fact that you had your brother killed. You felt disgusted and at the same time, distraught, it was so removed from what you remember having felt. It made you feel weak and dirty. Where would be a time when it wouldn't be like this?
Somehow, you doubted it.
You were forcing your thoughts back to the here and now, your eyes narrow as you look at the temple defense. The massive body of the temple dedicated to your brother served as the backbone of the defense. It had thick walls and small windows that could be ideal to be used to fire outside, and yet no fire emerged from these. The few defenders left had taken shelter behind sandbanks before the massive gates leading into the temple.
Considering they were all juveniles, they did a good job. They often hit their targets and kept strict fire discipline. And yet you wonder where the adults are.
Are they hiding behind them in the temple?
A thought but one you couldn't push away. How often had you watched your sons slaughter defenders like these children as the older priests preyed in temples?
You growl in disgust. The future the Four had shown you had come true. But how much of it was yours to blame, and how much blame could be placed on your father? A terrible realization formed in your mind that there was a good chance that humanity had turned back to brainless religious beliefs because of the Rebellion you had led.
Clearly, the juveniles wouldn't hold out much longer without support and strong leadership. All of which you could quickly provide. But it wouldn't end the attack. That would only happen if you find the creature coordinating these Xenos. But doing so would risk the youngsters being overrun as they were a distraction.
Because the moment you took to the fight, the Xenos would register your existence and react accordingly. You now had the advantage that they hadn't registered you as a threat. The moment the Xenos realized that a being like a Primarch had come to bolster the defense, it would change the whole battle.
[ ] Save the juveniles!
[ ] Seek out the controlling Xenos!
