"In the ruthless universe of the far future there is only war."
That is something that Kanan Scott knew very well. After two hundred years or more, as he never counted, he thought that his death would give him the opportunity for eternal rest in the...
Before their expectant eyes, a big smile appeared on Murrey's face. He had felt the fear after so long, and the peculiar, but beautiful sight of the massacre that the Astartes of the Storm Hawks were orchestrating just twenty meters from where he stood was simply... Beautiful.
The emotion of adrenaline ran through his entire body, his fist tightened on his bolter and a supernatural desire urged him to charge against the enemies he had right in front of him. Even so, Murrey had already managed to repress those very primitive impulses that invaded his body.
He knew that he couldn't die, he knew that the entire central battlefield depended on his leadership, and keeping his head attached to his shoulders was his top priority. That's why those eight-foot tall giants in white armor crossed the entire battlefield like a shadow, only to land a fatal blow against the ork head.
Still, Murrey did not feel sad about not being able to fight such an exciting battle. Quite the opposite. He enjoyed seeing how the thousands of greenskins did their best to overcome the clutches of the Astartes, but not even one of them fell before the overwhelming numbers. But Murrey had other plans in mind. The ork in command pointed towards the carnage, and with a strange gesture that seemed to imitate a pistol, he lowered his thumb... and a Storm Falcon space marine fell down, with a huge wound running through his back and staw armor. .
While lighter Corvus-style armor was specialized for infiltration and stealth, it was still a powerful barrier against any enemy attack. So seeing one of their own fall dead on the ground, even though there were no orks near him, simply left everyone, including the orks themselves around him, stunned. And the worst of all, this was simply the first.
One by one, the Astartes of the Storm Falcons fell to an invisible enemy. Anyone might think that Murrey was using his Whaaag power at will for such a task, but nothing could be further from the truth, since the ork was still unaware of this ability. Still.
Still, that didn't explain why every time Murray lowered his thumb, one of the pale-armored Astartes fell dead with huge gashes that ran through his entire body. The captain of the small group, that space marine with the distinctive red helmet, watched without explanation as his men fell before a mysterious force. There weren't many left, and surely he himself would be the next to fall. Was there anything capable of surpassing the stealth of the descendants of the crow? Impossible... Or at least that's what I wanted to believe. But then he saw it.
It was an instant. A thousandth of a second. Something impossible for even an average Astarte to see. The captain watched in surprise as the air around him deformed, creating small turbulences that his genetically enhanced eyes were able to appreciate. Without thinking for a second, he launched himself at the shadow, waving his deadly electrified claws over the apparent nothingness, but then... he saw it. And they weren't just one.
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Both the Astartes and the orks themselves were astonished to see how a select group of forty orks or less emerged from the shadows, as if they passed through the ranks of greenskins without being detected. Orks who carried specialized combat equipment and weapons more refined than the rest. But without a doubt, the most striking thing was their peculiar purple pattern that they had painted on their skin and clothing.
