Passenger 57

Make its regular appearance on ITV2 for like the hundredth time in a row, this action pack/thriller film staring Wesley Snipes is perhaps one of the worst action films i have ever seen.

Besides typical cheesy 80s/90s acting, the plot is fundementally flawed throughout, the basic releasement of the terrorist in the film is shockingly appaling.

Basiclly, the terriorist (highly dangerous, highly sought out by the corrupt governments of the world) is being transferred from one prison to another, but if this man was so dangerous why did the FBI only leave two agents to guard such a lethal person? and once more, why did they had to guard him on a busy airplane full of civillian travellers who could be terrorists themselves (which they were!) to subdue and take over the plane with only the dimwit agents to be killed easily as murdering a fly with a rolled up newspaper!

Star Wars: Dread Awaking

This is my first attempt at making a short story of Star Wars, enjoy!

Star Wars: Dread Awaking

1BBY
Secret outpost of Trulis…

‘Dismiss,’ ordered Commander Velix as he waved off a squad of Stormtroopers in front of him, turning to the right before marching off in clip formation order down the corridor to carry out their reassigned patrol circuits.

Swiftly turning away from the Stormtroopers, Velix headed towards the waiting elevator, his lieutenant following close beside him but mindful of keeping a step back as Velix had firmly sowed the seeds of fear into the men under his command, his punishments for the slightest of errors going beyond simple discipline and order but of cruelty and malice.

Stepping into the lift, Velix stood with his arms folded behind his back, standing firmly in the centre as he waited. Taking the silent command without hesitation, the lieutenant pressed one of the many buttons on the control panel beside the door, watching the two black doors come together before briefly feeling himself pulled towards the ground as the elevator began to ascend.

‘Lieutenant,’ Velix said, calling him by his rank rather his name ‘some of the troops, I feel that they are starting to falter in their duty in guarding this facility,’ Velix spoke, his gaze fixed sternly at the lift doors ‘perhaps I am being too lenient?’

‘I…I…’ stuttered the lieutenant, struggling to find the right words to say ‘spit out lieutenant,’ Velix ordered, forcing the struggling lieutenant’s hand ‘I believe that they are doing an adequate job at…’

‘Adequate job?’ Velix cut off ‘they are waning lieutenant, it is plain to see. Sometimes I think I am the only one round here who knows what’s going on,’ Velix stated ‘examples. We should have to make examples in the near-future if we are to get these soldiers back into shape.’

Not wanting to incur his commander’s wrathful lecturing again, the lieutenant simply stood to attention until the end of the trip. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the lift began to slow in its speed, coming to a complete halt at the top level of the base.

The doors opening, Velix marched on out and into the command centre, immediately presented to him on one side of the room, a long and lengthy window stretched out before Velix.

On a clear day, Velix could see the imposing four towers that ranged out before the base with snow white fields and mountain ranges crisscrossing the distance but today a blizzard had blown in from the nearby coast to the south of the base, creating a wall of whiteness on the panel.

Ignoring the dreary weather raging outside, Velix walked over to the sitting operators of the control tower ‘report,’ Velix ordered to the sitting nearest operator ‘Sir, the weather is scrambling the systems on our radar network, making it near difficult to discern anything approaching the base, but it is still operational,’ replied the controller, his agitated face hidden behind the black egg shape helmet he wore.

‘Very good, carry on with your duties,’ Velix responded, his run of the mill officer tone a close of a sign of him expressing joy in a situation. ‘Let us inspect the barrack next,’ Velix announced to his lieutenant as he turned back to the lift ‘Sir, something has just appeared on the radar,’ called the engineer.

Standing behind the operator, Velix looked down at his console, seeing a small bright green dot on what is a featureless black circular panel, with the base being at the centre of the panel.

‘It was not scheduled,’ Velix said ‘it’s transmitting Imperial codes Sir, should I allow it to land?’ asked the engineer.

‘Permit it to land, but I want two squads Stormtroopers waiting for our unexpected guest.’

#

Watching and waiting from his high advantage point, Velix alongside with his lieutenant watched as the ship come into view beyond the glass window of the command centre.

During the time it had taking for the craft to fly to the base, the blizzard had let up slightly in its assault, allowing the two officers enough clearance to see the craft.

Below them to the left, three landing pads sat adjacent to each other in midair, with long sturdy metal frames holding them in place while a bridge connected them to the base they were in.

‘A Lambda-class T-4a shuttle,’ Velix noted, a common sight throughout the Imperial Navy as he had used them often enough when meeting important dignitaries of the Emperor off world.

High above the platforms, the Lamba shuttle began to fold its lower wings as it started to descend. Drawing nearer, small tiny thrusters spurted from underneath the belly of craft, helping it stabilise itself before landing completely on the ground.

Standing ready on each side of the platform, the Stormtroopers trained their weapons on the cockpit and ramp, unwavering in their aims. With a hiss of escaping steam and air, the ramp started to lower itself, a dark robed figure striding down it toward the waiting troopers.

Trained on the lone figure, troopers waited patiently for the order to open fire. Walking before the new arrival, the officer of the squad brought his weapon down as he began to converse with the person.

After a minute of discussing, the robed figure waved his hand in the air before raising his hands up in surrender. Bringing his hand to his helmet inbuilt comlink, the officer reported to Velix ‘Sir, the man has surrendered. He goes by the name of Fenok and is apparently an informant with information of several rebel base locations.’

Pondering on what to do, Velix considered what he should do. Follow orders and kill this intruder, who has discovered and entered his base, or enquire further in acquiring information on rebel bases, earn himself some elevation in the rank and file of the Imperial Army to some nice cosy post ‘Bring him in.’

#

Riding down the lift again, Velix walked down the corridor with his second in command in tow. Turning a bend, Velix saw the gathered Stormtroopers with their charge in the middle of them at the junction, their guns still trained on him.

Waiting for Velix’s arrival, the officer of the squads stood to attention, his chest out regardless of the being out in the chilly weather ‘Sir, this is the informant,’ the officer presented.

Stepping past the officer, Velix stood before the black robed figure. Inspecting him, Velix noted that protruding out of the back of his head were two long red lekkus that came round the neck and down the front sides of his torso ‘so, you think you have something of value to offer to the Empire?’

Nodding, the robed figured brought his hands up to his head, receiving an immediate reaction from the troopers as they aimed at him. Untying the knot at the back of his head, the person unwrap the cloth round his head, slowly revealing the person beneath it.

With red skin, the informant glared at Velix with hate filled eyes, a long scar cutting vertically from the top down below the eye, possibly caused by a knife of some sorts.

‘What I have to offer is more fulfilling that mere information,’ said the informant. ‘And what else could you possibly offer that I would be interested in?’ Velix asked curiously ‘release,’ stated the man.

Flopping to the ground, the Stormtroopers fell like puppets that have had their strings cut, their limbs spread out before them with their weapons falling far from their grasps. Staring with a wide mouth, Velix looked at the Twi’lek as his face turned in rage.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Velix turned to see his lieutenant running for his life back down the corridor. Hearing a wooshing noise, Velix saw a blur of twirling red light fly through the air, briefly touching his side as it carried on after his lieutenant, slamming into his back before he fell, his torso coming away from his hip and legs.

Thudding next to his feet, Velix looked down with wide eyes as he saw the severed limb of his arm lying on the metal mesh floor, no blood covering it where it lay. Bringing his arm up, Velix saw nothing but a stump, cleanly cut away at the elbow.

Looking up at the Twi’lek, Velix watched as he held a long black staff in his hands, with a light sabre protruding out of only one end of the blade ‘its a lightcane my poor misguided friend,’ the Twi’lek said ‘rarely used by anyone but a devastating weapon in the right, trained hands. But this is merely a symbolic gesture as my power comes from a more subtle, more destructive form.’

Holding the shaft of his weapon in his right hand, the Twi’lek raised his other hand out at Velix. Coughing for air, Velix felt the windpipe in his throat beginning to close, gasping desperately for air. Coming away beneath him, Velix no longer felt the ground under his feet as he was lifted up off the air.

‘The Force, as you simple creatures call it, is a much preferred choice of weapon, especially for executions.’

Trying to speak, Velix felt his head being pushed backwards, feeling the bones of his neck protest as they were bent into a wrong shape. Pushed further, Velix tried to cry out but he could not, his voice constricted by the exuding force on his throat.

Unable to hold on any longer, Velix’s neck snapped like a twig, ending his life as his corpse dangled in the air. Channelling the Force, the Twi’lek tossed the Imperial Commander’s body down the corridor, flipping end over end backwards until it crashed at the wall at the end.

Inspecting the body, a pair of Stormtroopers stood round it before they saw the Twi’lek, raising their E-11 blaster rifles before firing several ruby lasers towards the invader.

Spinning his blade, the Twi’lek deflected the bolts, sending them into the walls of the corridor before sending two back into the chests of the troopers, killing them with their own shoots ‘all shall know of the rise of Darth Dread.’

Death's Claw (Imperial Guard story)

Here's a little story that i've been cooking up, i made this a few months ago but finally, i've decided to show it to the world for all to know. But there is going to be a small part added to it at a later date.

Death's Claw
By Stuart000X

Life in the jungles of Kaybah was rampant with life. The sounds and call of nature in its full, untouched glory sounded in the bush, with roars echoing from the throats of predators on the hunt, the snapping of falling branches and twigs signalling the skirmish of pack animals fighting in the tree tops. Swooping through the air, birds of prey swooped down to the ground as they plucked small mammals from the ground to take back to their younglings nestled in their nests. But all this came to a sudden stop.

Running away in a panic stampede, animals ran as death and destruction were on their heels. Prey, once used to evading and escaping from the jaws of their nemesis now hold a temporarily truce with their hunters as both hunter and hunted ran alongside each other as each seek the shelter and safety the jungle could offer them. Kicking up dust clouds as the harsh sun dried and evaporated any trace of water and liquid.

Still and silent was the jungle in the absence of the wildlife that have fled from it that one might thought it were a twilight dream of some kind they were passing through. But that dream was shortly shattered by the tiny inkling of a creeping quake.

Unnoticeable at first to know of, the quaking began to take a more violent turn, the tall trees and long grass that covered the jungle beginning to shake. Growing more violent still, trees toppled as they’re stiff joints snapped and landed with the sound of hard wood.

Increasing in volume, the creators of the quakes began to make themselves known as the sounds of roaring engines screeched with the sound of grinding metal, with puffs of smoke spluttering from their exhausts, polluting the forest skyline with its oily, grease smell. Grunts of anger could be heard underneath the noise of the engines as hundreds and thousands of footsteps rang out behind the engine noise.

Ploughing through the forest hulks of steel and iron steamrolled through the jungle, knocking down trees as they went, crushing plants and any small animal that hadn’t escaped in time as they were crushed beneath the iron treads of tanks.

Storming through the jungle, ramshackle tanks drove forward as they led the vanguard of an approaching ork army. Mockery depictions of the original creator’s visions, the tanks were of Imperial Construction, Leman Russ’s, Chimeras, Hellhounds, and other unknown variant vehicles painted to the colours of their new owners, red painted crudely over the hulls to invoke the traditional old superstition of making the vehicles go faster.

Following close behind the wall of steel, Orks stay behind the tanks for protection, protests of anger as some of the tanks churned up wet mud and splashed their face with grim and muck.

Then without warning, an explosion erupted, sending one of the Leman Russ’s flying up into the air, landing on its back with flames spewing beneath its ripped and bloodied belly.

With first blood to their ambushed enemies, bullets ripped through the forest as they showered into the orks, green lances shooting out between the golden tracer as they punched holes into the armour column with the whistling and corkscrewing twisting of missiles as they streaked towards the weakened and stunned tanks and foot soldiers of the warband.



‘Maintain your fire! Don’t let up!’ shouted Matan as he fired his lasrifle at the orks, yelling to his entrenched and hidden men onwards, to press home their surprise attack ‘the Emperor smiles down upon us this very moment! Purge these aliens from His realm!’

Charging towards their revealed adversaries, the orks retaliated by opening fire with their remaining tanks, their shots going wide off the mark but some found their target, killing several Catachan Fighters with their deadly payloads. Swarming round their iron mobile fire supports, the orks rushed forward, running at full speed as they bared teeth in anticipation of the ensuing fight. Thousands of ruby lights reached out to touch the orks with gold tracer fire from heavy bolter and autocannon emplacements.

Seeing the orks draw closer, Matan took careful aim as he fired his lasrifle ‘come you bastards,’ whispered Matan as he urged them closer.

‘WAAAGGGHHH… ooh?’ said Okkin as stood on something metallic. Moving his foot out of the way, Okkin saw something jump into the air in front of him before exploding, firing shrapnel out of its confines and into the flesh of Okkin and all other orks near him.

Laughing as he watched, Matan saw the orks trip the booby traps him and his regiment had set up. Explosions erupted as orks stood on shredder and spring mines. Circling round the plumes of explosives, orks ran into the second layer of traps waiting for them.

‘Fire the mortars!’ ordered Matan, hearing the reassuring sounds of something going over his head before the inevitable reaction of explosions in the air, followed by shrapnel and grape shots tearing into the orks bellow the mortar detonations.

Running in front of his mob, Mulkorf tripped on something as he fell to the floor. Lying on the ground, Mulkorf felt something brush behind him. Getting up, Mulkorf turned to find several orks standing up straight without breathing a word. Looking at their chests, Mulkorf saw a long branch stick into their torsos, with sharp spikes sticking out all over the branch with blood flowing down the branch’s spine. Turning round to continue running, Mulkorf fell to the ground as a smoking crater billowed from his forehead as he laid dead.

‘Nice shot Matan,’ said Kapela as he saw him take out an ork with a clear headshot after it survived a Lashing Branch trap. Getting up off the ground, Matan dropped his lasrifle and drew his legendary weapon; the Devil’s Claw. Held high above him for all to see, Matan ran to the top of the ridge he was hiding behind for cover ‘soldiers of Catachan! This is our moment! Our time! To show these green skinned bastards what we are made of. To victory!’ running down the hill he was standing upon, Matan led his Catachan fighters towards the orks as they carefully avoided the traps they had laid.

Rushing into the oncoming horde of orks, Matan level his weapon at the chest of the ork in front of him. Raising its cleaver to swipe at him, Matan parried the ork’s weapon aside and stabbed into his foes chest, stabbing repeatedly until it collapsed with several gashes on its front, blood pouring like a small stream. Other similar acts were being carried out as his Catachan Fighters laid into the orks, hacking and slashing with the Catachan fangs, or shredding their foes with full blasts of their lasrifles as they fired at point blank range.

Chopping his way through the orks, Matan began to feel drips of water fall on his head. Looking up, Matan saw through the small gaps the tall trees allowed him to see dark rain clouds forming above him. With a flash of thunder, rain started to fall in bucket, turning the dry ground into a swampy quagmire in seconds. Returning his attention to the orks, Matan renewed his attacks, the sudden change of weather doing nothing to dampen his spirits.

‘Want me to go and fetch you an umbrella Matan?’ ask Kapela as he laughed out loud as he executed a knelling ork from behind, slashing his fang across its neck before kicking it to the ground ‘nah,’ said Matan ‘knowing you, you probably sit in a tent and sip on Terran tea,’ laughing at the reply of humour, Kapela ran towards where the fighting is at it hardest with Matan running alongside him, towards the destroyed tanks.

#

‘Da humiz are tough boss! They’z kill good’ said a grunt as he stood talking to the leader of the warband as he surveyed the battle from the hatch of his tank ‘sendz more boyz out, I’z willz give dem a good thumpin wen’z I’z arrive,’ laughed Warboss Gekneck as he banged his axe on the hull of his tank, signalling the crew on the inside to move. Lurching forward, the iron behemoth drove forward, knocking the ork grunt off his feet. Scrambling to crawl away, the giant iron trends squished the ork like a bloody grape.

#

The fighting was intense, orks and catachan fighters fought each other like no other combatant could. Several hundred catachan fighters lay dead, mauled or shot to pieces by their greenish enemies but unlike other humans, fear was something with which the sons of Catachan have learned to live with, to be snuffed out by the myriad deaths that haunt its jungle planet, and with those hard lessons hammered into them, they have become a formidable force to be reckoned with, and it’s the battlefield within the jungles of Kaybah that the orks shall learn of this fact.

‘Die you son of a bitch!’ yelled Kapela as he mowed down a group of orks that charged at him as he stood on the burning wreckage of a destroyed Hellhound, the fire persisting to blaze while rain poured from the darken heavens.

‘Their numbers are thinning,’ shouted Matan, as he tried to make his voice heard through the calamity of the battle and thunderstorm ragging above him.

As the catachans and orks fought, the ground started to shake; even the wrecked light and heavy tanks began shuddering under the vibration. The sound of trees snapped above the sound of the thunder and lightning, with the squeak of metal and grinding rocks.

A monstrosity from the Forges of Lucius loomed through the jungle, its menacing visage scarred by the crude workings its own has blasphemed it with. ‘Diz I’z gonna be funz!’ yelled Gekneck as he bashed the pommel of his axe on the hull of the Baneblade, signalling the crew to open fire.

Opening fire with its side sponsors, tracer rounds of green and copper sprayed out before it as lascannons and twined heavy bolters fired, cutting down catachans and orks alike.

Hiding behind an overturned Chimera, Matan watched Kapela jumping off the Hellhound as bullets raked the other side of where he hid behind ‘Kapela! We have to find away to get to its flanks!’ yelled Matan over the roaring fire being ‘Aye! But it has the advantage, its covering all the killing grounds!’ replied Kapela as he pointed at the open areas that the bullets is firing upon, Catachans and orks lying dead, their bodies ripped to pieces by the continuous fire.

With the dim sound of moving machinery and hydraulics, the main turret began to rotate towards its left, aiming at the catachans that are stuck in pitched battle with a mob of orks ‘Fire!’ yelled Gekneck as he bashed his axe on the tanks hull.

Exiting from the Mega Battle Cannon, a shell as large as a man flew from its confines as the mighty kinetic forces being exerted on it, forced it to fly out of the muzzle of the cannon, smoke and steam billowing out after it as it wafted in the rain filled air.

Landing in the midst of the combatants, the shell detonated as its warhead ignited the fuse inside, releasing the power of a god on the small stretch of land, casting the fighters to all around the edges of the jungle with black smoke drifting from their burnt corpses.

‘Holy Emperor!’ yelled Matan as he watched the godlike power the Baneblade exuded, transforming all that is touched by its awesome power into dust, casting lesser destroyed ones across the jungle and landing in ruin piles of flesh and bone.

Looking round the edge of his chimera, Matan saw the tank move forward again, towards the gap between the chimera and hellhound. Backing away from the edge, Matan saw the Baneblade looming over the tank like a predatory shark on the hunt, its giant turret acting as its fin. With power and weight, the Hellhound and Chimera began to move back as they were pushed out of the Baneblade’s path.

Vaulting up along the Chimera’s tracks, Matan rushed up onto the top of its hull and ran towards the Baneblade. Lurching beneath his feet, the Chimera began to lurch towards its side. Hopping off the Chimera, Matan jumped with outstretch hands, grabbing the ledge of the tank as the Chimera turned over to its side and onto its back, the Baneblade lifting upwards as it rolled on top of it, crushing the upturned chassis into flattened steel.

Carried along the side of the Baneblade, Matan struggled to haul himself up over the lip of the tank. Deafening to his ears, the twin-linker heavy bolters blazed with fury as the gunner fired furiously at the battlefield occupants, succeeding in sending hundreds of bullets to the wind than hitting anything of use. Turning closer to him, Matan placed his foot on the guns muzzle, using it to help push him over the tank’s ledge, climbing the turret of the lascannon above the heavy bolters.

Rocking back and forth, Matan struggled to hold his balance on the moving fortress. Surveying the battle, Matan saw the orks overwhelming the Catachan fighter’s positions, confident with their juggernaut of destruction at their backing.

Hearing twisting metal, Matan turned to see the tank’s turret turned towards him. Jumping over the cylinder pole of the turret, Matan lost his footing as he leapt over, tripping over the gun’s mussel. Rolling down the front slope of the tank’s armour, Matan dropped his Devil’s Claw as he scrambled to grab hold on something. Reaching out, Matan grabbed hold of a jutting piece of metal, halting his descent as his legs dangled precariously over the front of the Baneblade.

Conjuring his strength, Matan began to lift his legs back up and over the front of the tank. Finally back on solid ground, Matan frantically looked for his fallen weapon. Seeing a glint of light at the corner of his eye lightning flashed up above, Matan turned to see his sword lying against the hull, it shaking as it rocked with the tank. About to retrieve his weapon, a shadow loomed over Matan. Turning to look at the source of the shadow, Matan saw a huge ork standing in front of him with his axe raised to strike him.

Diving to avoid being struck, the ork’s axe hit the hull of the tank, creating sparks as it scrapped on the metal. Grabbing for his sword as he dived, Matan rolled back onto his feet and faced the ork as it charged at him, bellowing its feral warcry as it went.

Hacking left to right, Matan counter-attacked the ork with his Devil’s Claw, the ork using the shaft of its weapon to fend of his attacks. Sparks flew as Matan’s weapon hit the metal shaft of the ork’s axe. Raising its axe, the ork struck out at Matan, forcing him back towards the rear of the Baneblade.

Hearing machinery whine behind him, Matan looked round to see the turret turning towards him. Not wanting to fall over again, Matan jumped over the turret’s mussel with more practice, landing firmly on his feet. The ork however, didn’t fare as well. Being struck squarely in the chest, the ork fell back and off the front of the tank, the vehicle rising a slightly as its iron treads rolled over the unfortunate victim.

Hurrying over to the open hatch of the Baneblade’s turret, Matan plucked a krak grenade from his belt. Looking into the dark, steaming interior, Matan made to pull the pin when a green clawed hand reached out from the interior of the tank and pulled him into the metal beast.

Star Wars Unleashed review

This is the first decent proper Star Wars game that i have owned in a couple of years now (the last being Battlefront for the PS2 which i haven't played since i got an Xbox 360 two years ago)

With a gripping character (Starkiller) and a storyline that features camoes with well known characters such as Darth Vader, Palpatine and Princess Leia, this game was set to be an exciting journey to complete, acting as Darth Vader's secret apprentice as i carried out tasks he assigned me with, such as destroying surviving Jedi of order 66.

With cool graphics and game play, Star Wars Unleashed was set to having me glued to my hand controller as i sliced my through Rebel and Imperial troops before facing off the boss of the level, normally someone well versed with a lightsabre and the Force.

Truely a game to behold, this is one of my favourite games for one reason, it isn't you typical run of the mill killer game where you simply kill your way through the endless drone of soldiers placed in your way, you have to tactically and carefully destroy AT-ST's, even Star Destroyers while trying to evade the nip picking soldiers who getting in the way of accomplishing your job.

Besides that, the enviroment also serves as a challege also, fighting to avoid being devoured by plants, or swallowed up in lava flows on volcanic or junkyard worlds.

However, at the climax of the plot, there is a twist at the end of the game, leaving you with an ultimatum.

Desperate Ressurection

Used in a small competition that i am particapating in, the story presented here is one of a few stories that i have put into the competition. The theme of the competition is Desperation.

Desperate Ressurection

Chanting in ancient tongue, twelve Spiritseers sat with their legs crossed before them, their eyes closed as they concentrated their full attention on the task at hand.

Standing in front of the assembled Warlocks, Iyanna Arienal, held her witchblade above her head in her left hand, her eyes closed too as she invoked her powers to perform the ritual.

Slowly getting down on one knee, Iyanna placed her hand gently around the oval top of the glowing spirit stone that has taken root ground, its long, hidden tendrils reaching deep into the wraithbone, fusing it with that of the Iyanden’s Infinity Circuit.

Feeling the ground tremble under her feet, Iyanna could sense the battle raging just outside the bio-dome she and her Spiritseers resided in.

Ignoring the calamity outside, Iyanna slowly removed the roots that imbedded the spirit stone to the wraithbone with her mind, manipulating the roots from their holdings without causing damage to the precious Infinity Circuit that housed Iyanden’s dead.

Gripped in her hand, Iyanna felt the weight of the spirit stone in her grasp, sensing the ancient hero that resided within the Waystone.

Turning round and walking towards the Spiritseers, Iyanna lifted the oval stone up before her ‘with the Tears of Isha, we call forth the tally of dead back into service once more, to call upon them in our time of need as we battle the tyrannical horde that have invaded our sanctity. Sekoz, we call upon you.’

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Wreathing and swarming across the devoured, destroyed landscape of Iyanden in their billions, hordes of skittering aliens charged towards the entrenched warriors of Iyanden, being cut down in their hundreds of thousands by the stout defenders of the Craftworld, unwilling to falter or fallback in the face of the unwavering menace of the Tyranids.

Millions of gaunts were shredded beyond recognition by the raining hail of shuriken fire. Gargoyles plummeted to the ground by the followers of the Outcast, utilising their marksmen and skill to pick them off as they flew across the skies above them.

Giant raging monsters cast asunder by the firepower of the mighty skimmers that soared through the air as they obliterated all before their long reaching firepower, but all these feats of strength are but nought for the loses they had lost, with millions of Eldar dead littering across Craftworld sized battleground, their screams heard by the Farseers and Warlocks their Waystones were breached, allowing the thirsting god of Slaanesh to feed upon their souls as their bodies were consumed by the jaws of their killers.

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‘Hold fast brothers and sisters; do not waver in the face of these beasts. While they still ravage your homes, fight on!’ Utas cried, leading her squad of Guardian Defenders slowly down the slope of a destroyed bio-dome towards the encroaching swarm.

‘Fire,’ Utas ordered as she and her Guardians unleashed the fury of their shuriken catapults, lacerating the enemy as hundreds of flying sharp discs carved them into bloody green ribbons.

‘Gargoyles!’ warned one of the Guardians as half the squad turned their attention towards the skies, bringing down several airborne creatures with carefully aimed shots.

Looking to her left, Utas saw a couple of Guardians fall to the ground, screaming in pain as they wrestled with their chests, fleshboreres gnawing their way into the soft meat underneath their yellow Eldar armour.

Jetting out of the newly made holes on their chests, blood squirted from the prone corpse, staining Utas’s face and her yellow armour with their still warm blood.

Fear beginning to grip hold of Utas, she continued to fire into the mass packs of the gaunts in front of her, unwilling to show her fear in the face of death. Alone and surrounded, Utas and the remaining survivors of her squad fought with a ferocity that only the followers of Khaine would approve of.

Shadowing above her, Utas stared up into the open maw of a giant beast, as it reared it reared up before. Raising one of its giant claws to strike Utas, the Guardian leader defiantly fired a salvo of shurikens into the beast, ready to go down fighting.

Bringing its claw down, the beast suddenly recoiled back as a green lance of light struck it in the shoulder.

Turning round to find the source of the attack, Utas saw standing at the peak of the hill she and her squad advanced down from a line of eerily, silent automatons, each a large giant cannon in their arm hands, their featureless glass paned faces regarding the scene before them in silence.

But standing above them all, a giant creature similar to its smaller brethren towered over them as it unleashed its shoulder mounted bright lance, the green beams of light destroying all who was touched by it.

Standing in front of the Wraithguards, a warlock lifted her witchblade above her head as it ignited with purple warp fire ‘warriors of the dead let loose of your anger and hatred, let not these invaders be our undoing!’ said the warlock as she pointed her sword dramatically at the Tyranid brood.

Raising their wraithcannons, the Wraithguards sent a volley towards the swarm surrounding the guardians, briefly tearing an opening into the warp before disappearing, leaving only carnage as limbs and entire creatures are sent to their doom within the warp, they’re only evidence of existence is that of a bloody green pool on the ground.

Charging down the hill, the Wraithlord hefted his long, elegant sword in its right hand, readying itself for the oncoming bout with the wounded but still living Broodlord.

Roaring at the Wraithlord, the Broodlord lumbered forward, stampeding up the slop. Diving out of the way, Utas leapt to avoid being crushed underfoot.

Swining its sword from the right, the Wraithblade clanged from the Carnifex’s left claw before attacking it again. Raising its right claw, the Broodlord brought the claw down, narrowly hitting the Wraithlord as it sidestepped the attack.

Attacking upwards, the Wraithlord chopped the claw at the joint, green blood gushing from the word. Its flank exposed, the Wraithlord plunged the blade deep into the Broodlord’s skull, retracting the blade and sidestepping again as the beast fell.

With their leadership temporarily disrupted, the brood mingled about mindlessly before retreating, the Wraithguards still pursing them.

Staring up with wide eyes, Utas watched as the Wraithlord at her ‘you fought bravely young one,’ said the Wraithlord ‘who… who are you?’ Utas asked.

‘My name is Sekoz, I have been brought back to Iyanden’s service,’ announced the Wraithlord. Trudging off, the Wraithlord continued his pursuit.

Darth Bane: Path of Destruction review

My favourite Star Wars fiction, this tale follows the rise of one of the most infamous Dark Lords of the Sith, Darth Bane: Path of Destruction, the first of three installments, introduces how Darth Bane was before his rise and how he became Dark Lord of the Sith.

Well written and very gripping from the start, this book offers a lot of entertainment value as we witness him overcome his anxities and problems as a normal man on some backwater mining world before joining the ranks of the Sith army.

Highly recommended to have for anyone wanting to get interested in Star Wars or Pre Star Wars fiction, vastly superior to most of its counterparts on the book shelves.

Slaver's Peril

Slaver’s Peril

By Stuart000X

Fire and brimstone are the fragrances of the day. With ash falling from the skies and the stench of death being carried by the westerly winds from the ruined Imperial Town of Bamborough. The Dark Eldar, lead by their Dark Archon, Yurik, head back to the webway with their prized merchandise.

Standing at the helm of his command raider, Yurik, surveying with his hawkish eyes, studies the green landscape that they are speedily skimming across, barely an inch from touching the tall grass that sprouts from the land. Speeding alongside his skimmer, flew the rest of his Kabal as they clung to the sides of their own raider’s as the ravager’s take up the rear of the flotilla.

Turning to address his Incubi Bodyguards, the Incubi stood to attention for his command ‘A fine stock we have claimed.’ Said Yurik, to underline his remark, groans and pleas of mercy can be heard from the prisoners in their cages ‘She-Who-Thirst’s will be most pleased with what we have to sustain her unquenchable thirst. The mon-keigh make excellent offerings, having plagued most of the galaxy with their foul stench, and to be able breed and spread across the stars like a cancer consuming a limb or a body. Yes, they make good offerings.’ finished speaking; Yurik turned his back on his bodyguards to face the front of his raider.

Baring his shark like teeth into a grin, Yurik smiled at the joyous prospect that is soon to befall the cattle that he has rounded up for She-Who-Thirsts.

Finally reaching the edge of the one of the many cliffs that overlook the forested valley that hides the webway, Yurik along with his Kabal saw that they were not alone. Stalking around the base of the webway in their tall stiff manner and their gauss guns held at the ready, Necrons were swarming all around the site. Tiny insect swarms can be seen flying and latching onto the webway like locusts to a field of crop.

Hovering a few meters off the ground, Necron’s that are attached to the waist in hovercrafts floated together in a three V pattern formation, flying in and out of the forest. ‘Blast!’ cursed Yurik ‘Of all the curses to be inflicted with, the Slaves of the C’tan was one I never dreamed of encountering! No doubt the warp energies given off by the webway awoke them.’ With the webway being the only means of escape, the decision was clear cut as a soul stone.

Flying at high speed, the Kabal flew over the lip of the cliff and down into the valley below, but their descent did not go unnoticed. Seeing them for the first time, the Necrons took aim with their gauss guns and began to fire. Streaks of green zipped past the skimmers, the pilots taking evasive action to avoid being struck by the incoming fire.

Twisting, turning, the Dark Eldar continued to fire. Staring down to the ground, Yurik saw with his Elderish eyes the Necrons in their malevolent forms, seeing them collapse to the ground from their mortal wounds but then being revived by some hidden remedy that he could not fathom.

Bracing against the rails as his raider rocked, Yurik steadied himself as he turned in time to see the smoking ruin of another raider, as it tumbled out of the sky faster than a speeding comet, watching as Dark Eldar and mon-keigh alike fell to their deaths, and their raider smashed into the ground taking some Necrons with it. Cursing under his breath, Yurik watched with grimace as he saw his produce evaporate before his very eyes as they turned to ashes along by the Necron guns.

Finally landing, Yurik leapt off his raider with his bodyguards. Seeing the rest of his Kabal following his example, Yurik started to charge towards the nearest cohorts of Necrons. Turning to face the closest threat, the Necrons began to attack them.

Ducking and weaving his way pass the greenish beams being shot at him; Yurik swiftly equipped himself with his Punisher, poising it above his head in readiness for the assault. Finally within reaching distance, Yurik jumped the gap between him and his foes rolling under the closes Necron’s gun as it shot at him, coming up behind it and slicing it in half, watching it die.

Turning in time to see another Necron about to swing its halberd on him, Yurik’s inbuilt Splinter pistol in his helmet fired a blast of shards into its face, blinding it briefly to allow him to chop its head off. Rushing to finish the rest of the Necron’s off, one of Yurik’s body guard’s came rushing over to him urgently ‘my Lord! Monoliths have been sighted; they are approaching from behind that cliff.’

Pointing towards the nearest cliff, Yurik noted with dissatisfaction the green hue radiating from the peak of the acknowledged cliff ‘They’ll be here shortly my liege’ concluded the body guard ‘Back to the raiders!’ yelled Yurik ‘We must make it to the webway.’

Rushing back with all the haste he could muster, Yurik could see his raider up ahead of him, parking next to a ravager that is firing its Dark Lance towards the pursing Necrons. Finally leaping aboard his raider, the pilot took off immediately for the webway.

Looking at the cliff, Yurik could see the Monolith flying high above the cliff’s peak. With a blaze of white light, the webway activated and a vortex appeared as the Kabal flew into it. Turning in time to see the Monolith reach the top, Yurik saw it power its weapons and struck the webway with green lightning. With seconds to spare, the raider flew into the vortex just as the webway blew up.

Standing upon a plinth, Yurik grinned with glee as he watched his cargo being lead away in chains further into the depths of Commorragh, never to see the light of day again.