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.