Dawn of War: Destiny War

Chapter 6

(The fate of four armies will be determine on Ragnar. Humans, Eldar, Dark Eldar, & Orks will fight for control over the riches. The orks love a great fight; the dark eldar enjoy causing pain. They are the force of the damn and savage. The imperial guard fight for survival; the eldar seek to save their own kin. They are the forces of hope. Who will stand in the end? Yes, continue to enjoy the reading and drop a few remarks, comments, and anything else you like or dislike about the story. Enjoy! )

Chapter 6: Section 6 – 1

The soil is spoiled and landscape is scorching. Time is always counting down; there is too much carnage everywhere. In one sector of the planet, the blood runs quick. The bodies cover various areas. Gun fire is blasting all around and bullets fly through the heads of many. The land here has many of them gathering together. The more they have, the louder they get. They scream a single word in union and stomp the ground with every step. The purpose is simple; they have no confusion. There is no pause in their destruction. Only thing that matters is slaughtering everything that is in front of them. The rage of the green skin horde is uncontrollable. None can withstand it save only the brave and insane. The rampage is massive. Yet, in the face of such madness, many stand proud. They wait patiently for the moment. Many stand together and whisper a prayer. Though the ground shakes, they stand shoulder to shoulder. Some have lived long enough to see the end coming. Many have died sooner before feeling the warmth of another. Not many are ready to face the ferocity coming. The breathing is quick for several; the eyes are looking around. Every weapon is pointing to the front. All battle tanks are ready to fire. The dust from the ground blows in their face. As the horde comes closer, the first line squeeze the trigger as one person yells out an order. The order is to do one thing: "FIRE!"

Elsewhere, they remember the song of prophecy. The words of promise to save their craft world come to them. It sings in the ear of every one. None can see how far words will carry them. They only follow and believe in the actions of the leaders. The words sing of what the future will be; however, one is ready to defy what is to happen. The sense in the prophecy leaves doubt and misunderstanding.

"The future of the damn remains unclear. A person of your enemy will create the change. You will discover an ally and experience a wondrous power. The path will save your craft world from the Great Evil."

Every step has brought them to this point. Each battle reveals what is to happen. Yet, the only logic that keeps coming to mind is manipulation and deception. Manipulate those that are willing to fight for a cause; deceive the pawns with believing in a cause greater than their own hubris. As the green tide approaches a single warrior, she howls in the face of certain death only to have reinforcements appear from the surroundings. They howl with an aspiring yet fearful shriek. The footsteps are silent; the weapons are sharp and lethal. All use speed and graceful displays of attacks to lop off a head, an arm, or a leg. The commander takes to the field and swings the blade. Every stab, cut, slash, and counter brings a single enemy down. Nothing will stand in the path of a warrior of several lifetimes.

There is a land full of misery. It is surrounded by blood and tortured screams. The souls of the departed end up in small vials for pleasurable drinking. The screaming rejuvenates the depraved. Torture tactics become a regular source for sweet promises to come. The groups of various cults lash out and haul back the less fortunate. Be it the weak bleeding out, hurt, or crying for the end, none can expect a quick death. They move out in packs and hunt for fresh victims. Many will be sacrificed for the greater end. A lot more will be captured for entertainment. Such is the fate of those that come to this dark, disturbing area. At the center, a sword takes in all that it hears. The wars cause screaming; the death brings pleasure. A song of misery relaxes it. The only words that are now being spoken only demand one simple need.