Gamer’s Tail 01: ‘I want that gun!’ – Ted

July 22, 2016

Sergeant Simiel watched his the blocky silhouette of terminator armor that formed his captain travel over the broken landscape.  Blood angels were a bit different that most chapters, each member took to the arts and mastered human culture as much as they mastered the blade, Simiel was no different, as some of his brothers were experts in painting, ceramics, song or poetry he was a purveyor of literature and today, more than most, he was taken by one ancient tome in particular: Don Quixote, and the reason for this was none other than this beloved leader, Captain Ambriel Dioscuri, aspiring lord to all schemes bat-shit crazy.  Just as Don Quixote pulls off his heroic feats with near catastrophic consequences so does the Captain.  Simiel has long been trying to figure out if it was the captain that has been winning these marginal victories or his team, but perhaps it is his ability to surround himself with those that can pull him form the abyss that proves his worth?  Maybe “worth” is playing too loosely with the term.  Either way the servitors in the armory are going to put in over-time to clean up the scrapes and holes in the Captain’s armor when they get back.  But somehow, having survived a near fatal encounter with a firing squad of heretics the day before, the Captain seems to move with such lithe and optimism that where ever lay over the next hill will bring their team crusaders the “glory they need (in the Captain’s words)” to return to Victus.
The interplay of light on the silhouettes belonging to the Captain and terminator squad Brachsal came to an abrupt end when the Captain came to a halt and swung his thunder hammer and storm bolter out to each side of him.  So quickly did he change cadence did brother Adriel half double over the Captain’s thunder hammer.  The rest of the detachment, squad Kyriotetes, the ancient Dumah as well as his own squad, Jegudiel, came to a rapid close on the Captain.
“Brothers, today, today above any other you will be honored with the glory and testament.  Today, more than most your chain blades will drip with the blood of the wicked, they shall be caked with the entrails of the emperor’s enemy, for today your Captain, honor guard to Sanguinius’ wrathful passion, has lead you to your call.” The Captain lofted his thunder hammer in a melodramatic arc resting it outstretched leading our eye down the hill into a valley of war-torn debris, a discordant layer of plasteel and adamantium ribs once belonging to a small agricultural junction town.  Amongst the refuse of man stood erect a large rusty mass of sacred relief paintings, rivets, steel work and spines on top of which was fixed a might beast of ordinance that was all too familiar to the sergeant.  Simiel held up his plasma pistol, gazing over its curves and ridges, a weapon he carried for over a century, a weapon that he was intimately in tune with.  Down in the valley atop a shrine to the emperor stood a plasma pistol that only the mightiest of titans could carry the way he carried his.  He had heard of the Plasma Obliterator but had never imagined he would ever see one.  The end of his mouth twitched into a smile, the thrill of firing a colossal version of his plasma pistol was hard to resist.
The ancient marine, Dumah bellowed from within his tome “Captain, approximately a dozen life forms mass at the base of the blessed ordinance.  Yellow and hunched over carrying weapons of unholy design, possible xenos or the tainted patrol this sacred artifact.”
“Liberation is the natural course of our calling. Ready your bolters and your blades as we lay quickly the emperor’s justice!” The Captain circled his thunder hammer over head, rallying the spirits of his men.
Simiel knew where this was going and it did not look good.  He could only see his Captain charging an imaginary dragon on his horse, Rocinante, only to be entangled in a ailing windmill.
“Captain, if you would permit me to speak…” Simiel’s words left his mouth only to be swept under the crackle of the terminators teleporting into battle.
“Brother Simiel, you need not express your concerns as I read them all to clearly.  Let us walk the path of our true calling: bailing our Captain out of trouble.” Sergeant Zephon turned back to his squad “For the glory of Cretacia and the life of our noble Captain!”
The men all picked up the pace and charged down the hill, through the tangled mess of history to meet their destiny.

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