So I was reading through the 'Coolest Game' moments thread and started to write my own. I decided to write it through the eyes of my character. About two paragraphs in I realized I was essentially writing fanfic, but I kept going anyway. Hope you enjoy it, I will post more as I write it.

EDIT: Aaaaand I just realized there is a fanfic sub-forum. Ah well. Feel free to post any comments you might have, I can't improve my writing without criticism. Of the constructive variety, that is.

PART 1 - FLIGHT OF THE VALKYRIE

Gaz Venris sat quietly, staring out the side of the Valkyrie AAC as it skimmed over the war-torn landscape. In the distance he could see the flash of artillery shells landing. He watched as they lit up the horizon, augmenting the evening sunlight with their own peculiar blend of colors, and could hear the echoing thunder that followed. If he didn't know what it was like to be on the receiving end of that display, it might have seemed beautiful.

Turbulence knocked the Elysian Sergeant from his reverie. Flicking the lho-stick out of the aircraft, he leaned against the door-mounted heavy bolter and surveyed the cabin. He could see Arbiter Regis, sitting with his eyes closed and obviously pretending he had his feet firmly on the ground; he never had been one for flight. Seated next to him was Lug, an underhive dweller from a neighboring hive planet, who was currently examining a stub automatic that he had just slipped from Regis’ holster. Those two made a strange pair considering their history, but the shared animosity of the past was apparently long behind them; ever since their induction into the Inquisition, they had supported each other and become brothers in service to the Emperor. Across the cabin Gaz could see the distinctive red robes worn by Acolyte Titus of the Adeptus Mechanicus. He had never been one for talk, and even now he was completely oblivious to the fact that he was being shaken about as he pored over the second heavy bolter on the other door, looking for signs of poor maintenance by the Valkyrie crew. He could picture the horrified look that would surely arise should he find any component not properly secured or any moving part not properly lubricated. It made Gaz chuckle, but he knew it would be a mistake to assume he only knew how to maintain weapons. He had personally seen the Tech-Priest walk through a fusillade of enemy fire, his venerated las rifle blazing as he pushed the enemy back. Gaz was a long way from the relative comfort of his unit, but at least he was among people he could trust.

Gaz closed his eyes in hope that he would be able to sleep the rest of the trip. Their flight plan called for a quick trip through territory that was patrolled by the Imperial Navy. The Blood Pact was raiding the planet, and the local PDF was barely holding them back with Imperial Navy support. What they were doing this far from the Sabbat Worlds was a mystery. Though the Blood Pact raiding force formed a significant threat, engaging them was not the reason this Ordo Hereticus cell was here.

Inquisitor Atellus was a man of small stature that had served the Ordo Hereticus for over five decades. His effeminate mannerisms were the subject of some speculation and ridicule, and some considered him a radical, but he had never wavered in his service to the Imperium. He was a brilliant tactician, and Gaz felt secure in the knowledge that Atellus used his acolyte cells in the way a veteran warrior uses his weapons – each to their strength and with deadly precision. Gaz knew that if an acolyte cell failed in their mission, the failure belonged to them alone, and Atellus did not have a record of tolerating failure. His mind returned to the scene of their last mission, and he swallowed hard, trying not to think too hard about the implications of what had happened.

Atellus had requested the cell retrieve an artifact of interest to him, an artifact that might also be of interest to the Blood Pact, which may explain their presence this far from their standard engagement zones. This assignment was quite different from their normal, seemingly something that should fall under the responsibility of the Ordo Malleus, but nobody in the cell objected; they were all eager to repair their reputation and restore trust after the outcome of their last mission. Atellus assured the cell that there should be little risk of direct conflict on this assignment, as the artifact was reported to be located within the now abandoned mansion of a noble family. When Gaz pressed him for details about the artifact, Atellus gave a smirk and said “You will know it when you see it.” Gaz found this less than reassuring, though if he was not being given details it was likely for a good reason.

Gaz was beginning to doze off, the rhythmic movement of the Valkyrie lulling him to sleep as it had so many times before this, when he heard a low buzzing noise come from the cockpit. He immediately jolted awake, recognizing that sound as an auspex contact that did not register as friendly with the Valkyrie’s cogitator. Gaz had a special hatred for that sound – a drop trooper who is shot down in transit is of little use. He quickly reached forward and secured himself to the heavy bolter while simultaneously reading it for action. His actions drew a strange glance from Lug. Gaz was about to say something when a message from the co-pilot came across the vox.

“Fast mover inbound that does not look friendly. Likely a Hellblade, judging from how fast it’s going. I don’t know how it slipped through patrols.” The announcement stirred the cabin to life. Titus stopped inspecting the heavy bolter and strapped himself in. Lug buckled himself in, and then leaned over to explain to Regis what was happening, as he had clearly missed some of the announcement while waking up. As it was explained to him, all the color seemed to drain from his face, and he frantically buckled himself in. Despite the dire situation, Gaz could not help but laugh, which earned him an angry look from Regis. “Don’t worry!” Gaz shouted, “Nothing I can’t handle! I’ll get you back to the ground, one way or another!”

The vox came to life again, and the co-pilot had obvious worry in her voice. “The ground here is too thick with snow to emergency land and there is no way we can outrun this thing. We will give you as many shots as we can. It’s coming up from our starboard side. Emperor protect us all.”

Gaz could feel the Valkyrie pick up speed as the pilot pushed the craft harder, which would make the initial shots at the Valkyrie harder to land considering the high AoA the chaos fighter was coming in on. He scanned the distance, looking for a dark spot, a blur, or a glint of sunlight, anything at all, hoping to get a few shots in before this chaos scum had a chance to send him to the Emperor early. He squinted, looking out at the horizon, and saw it – the flash of cannon fire from a rapidly moving craft, coming straight at him at incredible speed. He squeezed the trigger on the heavy bolter, muttering prayers to the Emperor through gritted teeth over the roar of heavy bolter fire. Little risk of direct conflict my ass...

To Be Continued…

Very well told, details are nice. one thing a little more description of what you and your comrades are dressed in when your setting the scene up or introducing someone for the first time.

I liked it. i wish my group were as well intergrated

Good point on the clothing - I was planning on describing physical details later in the story, but I suppose a cursory description here would have helped. Thanks for reading - I will be writing the second part fairly soon.

PART II - DESCENT

A high pitched ring was all Gaz could hear as he looked out at the starboard wing of the Valkyrie, the bright flames so intense they were causing the integrated photo-visor in his drop helmet to dim. The pilots had done their best, giving him and Titus several chances to fire, but the armor on the Hellblade proved to be too resilient for the heavy bolters to get through. Gaz muttered a curse as he saw the Hellblade streak by, fairly content at this point to play with them as though he were a hunter and them nothing but wounded prey. He looked down at the shattered heavy bolter, amazed he had survived the cannon shot that had crippled the powerful weapon. Truth be told, Gaz thought, his earlier description of them as wounded prey was probably more correct than he wanted to admit.

Gaz spun around in his harness to survey the cabin for the first time since the attack had started. Regis was busy applying a bandage to his arm where shrapnel from cannon shot had done some damage. In a strange role reversal, he looked completely calm even though he was bleeding profusely and Lug now looked absolutely terrified. One look at the side of the cabin explained it – there was a fist sized hole in the side of the craft no more than a few centimeters from Lug’s head, and a matching hole on the opposite side of the craft a meter or so from Titus, who was still buckled in and apparently unscathed, staring intently at Gaz as if waiting for direction. His team was still intact, though a bit worse for wear, and Gaz breathed a sigh of relief.

As he was considering his next move, the Valkyrie suddenly shifted hard and began to climb at a dizzying pace. Over the sound of the engines he could barely hear the copilot’s voice over the vox. “We’re in it bad! The pilot’s seat took a hit and Able is not responding. I’m giving us altitude so you can jump! I’ll steady out in a second so you can get your chutes on!”

Everyone held steady while the Valkyrie ascended. Gaz kept his eyes on the skyline, hoping this maneuver would complete before the Hellblade pilot got bored with them and finished what he started. He didn’t see the craft, but that only made him worried. A few moments later, the Valkyrie started to level out, and Regis and Lug were already unbuckling and reaching for grav chutes as the copilot yelled through the vox. “We are at jump altitude! Now! Get your chutes on now! We don’t have –“

The Valkyrie rocked as quad-autocannon shells ripped through the Valkyrie, shredding the engines and cutting all power to the vox. Flames licked through the open port side of the craft, bathing Titus in flames and temporarily turning Gaz’ photo-visor dark as he shrank back from the heat. The craft immediately lost thrust and began to descend, but the Emperor had seen their plight and the Valkyrie began to fall from the sky in a gliding descent, avoiding a death spiral that surely would have sealed their fate. Gaz slid his visor up into his helmet so he could see and was horrified at what he saw.

Regis and Lug were gone. Where they had been standing was now just seating that had been shredded by cannon fire. The grav chutes they had been reaching for had flown out the back of the craft, save but one. Gaz quickly looked to Titus, and saw that the flames from the craft were no longer reaching in through the port door, as Titus had managed to slam the door shut despite being burned by the flames. Despite this, he was far from safe, as his robes and harness had been set on fire as fuel and flames had sprayed through the door. Gaz then heard a short series of explosions and a pair of rocket motors firing off as the pilots both ejected. Well , he thought, as the highest ranking member currently onboard, it looks like I finally get my own Valkyrie.

Gaz yelled through the vox, hoping Titus would hear him over the roar of the calamity. “Hang on! We’ve still got a chance!” Titus said nothing, instead looking over at the single grav-chute barely holding on by a single piece of webbing. He quickly looked around the cabin, his head stopping wherever he saw damage. He then turned his head and looked at Gaz. Despite being in pain from the flames that still burned him, his eyes held a bit of mirth. Through the vox, Gaz heard him say “I do not think I know enough prayers to fix this. Perhaps you can convince the enemy pilot to parley?” Laughing quietly to himself, Titus hit the quick-release on his harness, and was quickly pulled through the rear of the Valkyrie and out into the evening sky.

Gaz allowed himself a single moment of shock at what he just saw. Two members of his team were likely falling to their deaths now, and Titus had just thrown himself from an aircraft without a chute, committing himself to the mercy of the Emperor… or perhaps the Machine God. It occurred to him that he might not find any of them alive or at all, but he shook off the thought and then returned to the problem at hand – getting his hands on that grav chute.

He quickly pulled a grapnel from his waistline and secured it to the corner of the open starboard door. He then released his harness that was holding him to the plummeting Valkyrie. His grapnel held strong, and Gaz began easing his way towards the last remaining grav chute. As Gaz got close to the chute, he eased up and reached for the webbing strap – just as another series of cannon rounds blasted through the cabin. It caught Gaz by such surprise that he lost his holds and was pulled towards the rear of the craft, airborne and on his way out the craft in the same manner as his other team members just moments before. As he flew towards the waiting empty sky, all he could think about was all the horrible things he would do to that chaos pilot if he ever got hands on him. He grunted hard as his flight was stopped, his grapnel keeping him tethered to the doomed Valkyrie. I guess my new Valkyrie wants me to stay , he thought wryly. Not today .

Bracing his feet against the cabin’s ceiling, Gaz held firm to his grapnel line with his left hand and drew his las pistol with his right. The ride was too unstable for aiming, so he pointed in the direction of the last grav chute’s webbing and started pulling the trigger, reciting battle cants aloud as he hoped for the best.

The Emperor must have heard Gaz’ meager offering and smiled, as he got lucky and a las shot struck something that was holding the chute in place. Gaz tried to grab the chute as it flew out of the craft, but missed the webbing with his left hand, instead being rewarded with smashed knuckles as the bulk of the chute hit his hand hard. He pulled his hand back, screaming obscenities as he holstered his las pistol. Looking up, he saw the chute falling towards the ground. It was an odd perspective, and he would have taken more time to take it all in had he not just processed the fact that he was watching his only means of living through this ordeal fall unimpeded towards the waiting snow.

He flicked the switch that released his grapnel, kicking himself off the roof of the Valkyrie, which propelled him down in a quick free fall towards his chute. Never would have thought I’d have to do this twice , he thought, as both the chute and the ground began rushing up to meet him.

To Be Continued…

In the above session, we had numerous opportunities to take down the Hellblade, but it proved to be to be too much for us. We got a lot of hits, but did not get through the armor, and It tore us up pretty bad.

I will also point out that Gaz did not have to burn a fate point during the making of this part of the story. Apparently I saved my ludicrous luck for after we were already going down.

Your poor cell, but well told. Their souls and story will live on as long as you don't miss the chute and plummet to your demise.

PART III – SOLUS

Gaz lay perfectly still, believing that if he somehow managed to avoid all movement the pain would cease to be. Despite his best efforts, the necessity of breathing inhibited his plan. Grunting in pain, he sat up from his bed of snow and shrugged the grav chute from his shoulders, amazed he had been able to both procure and secure the thing on the way down. He did have the ‘good fortune’ of having practiced the maneuver before, even if it was officially considered a training accident. Looking up, he could see a trail of smoke that fell from the sky, reaching ground several kilometers from his current position. In the distance, he could see an orange glow that would periodically increase in radiance. Gaz assumed this to be secondary explosions coming from the wrecked Valkyrie, possibly the extra fuel tanks lighting off. He scanned the sky for signs of that bastard Hellblade but could find none. “Emperor willing, I will find and murder that pilot” he muttered to himself.

As he stood up and shook off the snow, stretching and taking a few steps around to make sure he was not too hurt, a rare thought of hope entered his mind – it was possible that the fresh snow on the ground, which seemed to be almost a half-metre thick in places, had cushioned the fall of his team members. There was a small chance he might be able to find some of them alive. After all, he thought, it was possible Regis and Lug had been able to secure their grav chutes before being tossed from the Valkyrie. Just because he did not see it happen did not mean it didn’t happen. And Titus was a Techpriest – they had all sorts of tricks and strange implements of the machine cult. Surely he would not have thrown himself from the craft if he did not think he could survive it? The thought of it gave him some warmth as the cold of the evening began to chill him to the bones. It was not going to get any warmer tonight, but perhaps he could have a few happy thoughts.

The snap of a branch brought Gaz to full attention. Gaz crouched low, drew his laspistol, and looked around, surveying the immediate area. He had apparently landed in a very large clearing on a hillside, no more than twenty meters from a line of thick fir trees. Gaz listened carefully, removing his armored jump helmet to give him a better chance of hearing anything out of the ordinary. A few moments later he heard a pair of voices, speaking to each other in hushed tones, coming from the direction of the tree line. He looked but could not see anything, the evening gloom and shaded forest working together to obscure his visitors from his sight.

Gaz performed a quick pat down of himself in order to determine what gear he still carried, as it was beginning to seem more likely he would need to use it. He had his Elysia pattern laspistol, of course, and his engraved mono-knife in his boot. He swore to himself as he realized his primary weapon, an Armageddon pattern autogun specially modified by Titus with goodies such as an integrated silencer, was not with him – it must have fallen off on the way down. He did have the three magazines for it loaded with manstopper rounds for all the good that would do him. He checked his left leg and his compact pump-action shotgun was still there in the leg holster. A few doses of stimm, some rations, a small medical kit, a few extra shotgun shells, a backup charge pack, a frag grenade, and his armor and web gear were all he had. That would have to do.

Gaz sat perfectly still, crouched low, hoping whoever was in the forest was either friendly or could not see him. He drew aim on the tree line and waited. Several excruciating moments passed, a time that seemed like minutes but was probably no more than twenty seconds. Then two human figures emerged from the trees. The light level made it difficult to see them, but they were definitely armed and walking carefully in his direction. Gaz was about to pull the trigger when one of them shouted. “Guardsmen! Looking for survivors! Are you here?”

Gaz breathed a sigh of relief. They were over PDF controlled territory, so it made sense they would see the crash and investigate. He stood up and started walking towards the guardsmen, one of which started to smile at the sight of a survivor. “Thank the Emperor. For a moment there…” His voice trailed off as details became clearer. The local PDF forces wore blue as an identifying color and carried a lasgun. These guardsmen wore the same blue uniform, but it appeared to be stained red over large portions, and both of them carried autoguns with hooked bayonets. Both were bald, neither wore a helmet, and as he approached, tattoos on the face and skull became visible over a leering, bloody smile. Gaz slow walk forward stopped. Blood Pact. ****.

All three of them raised weapons at the same time, Gaz painfully aware that his laspistol was up against two autoguns. He was fast on the draw and fired as he dropped to a low crouch, his first shot hitting the smiling chaos sod on his right arm, who cursed as his aim was spoiled. The whip-crack noise of that laspistol shot was the opening of a cacophony as both of the blood pact members opened fire on fully automatic at a distance of less than ten metres. The ground around him churned with bullet impacts as he tried to aim for a second shot. He felt several impacts on his chest carapace plate, and he was glad he had decided to switch his standard Elysian light flak chest plate for a heavier version after his previous mission. A moment later he wished he had done the same for his arm guards as a round slammed through the light protection on his left arm. He stifled a yell as blood sprayed from the open wound, dotting the snow around him with droplets of crimson.

Gaz knew he would not last long here. He fired again as he retreated, looking for any sort of cover. His shot hit the leg of the second pact soldier, causing him to stumble to his knees and breaking his fire. The shot had burned him, but failed to do serious damage because of his armor. The smiling pact soldier also dropped to a knee and started to take aim, still smiling and seemingly oblivious to the wound Gaz had given him. Just as he was convinced that he had no cover and he was going to face another barrage of bullets in the open, he saw the grav chute laying on the ground.

Gaz dove behind the chute as gunfire erupted again, landing behind it amid the whizzing of bullets. He quickly propped it up, leaning against it as though it were a shield and his only chance at life. It probably was. Bullets repeatedly hammered the chute, some bouncing off harmlessly while others crunched through the exterior, ruining the device. But it served its purpose. Gaz remained unharmed, and as he considered returning fire, he looked down. There was his autogun, intact and loaded. It had been sitting under the chute. He smiled as he grabbed the gun, seated and seated a round into the chamber, chuckling to himself as the rounds plinked against the chute.

The gunfire ceased as the two pact soldiers’ magazines ran dry. Gaz could hear them laughing and taunting as they walked closer. “Hiding until your precious emperor saves you, little man? We won’t shoot, we swear.” They snickered, and then the other spoke up. “You were supposed to have died in the transport, but Tranth will be impressed that you made it out. Maybe we could take you to him? I’m sure you’re dying to meet him.” They laughed again. Gaz could tell they were only a few meters away, and he had not heard them reload.

Gaz stood up, raising his autogun at the one to his right. The smiles evaporated from their faces as they realized what had just happened, and Gaz spoke. “Tranth, you said? I’ll let him know you won’t be making it back.” Gaz squeezed the trigger and held it. A repeated clicking noise was all that could be heard as half a dozen manstopper rounds tore through the surprised soldier, cutting through his armor as if it were not there. He crumpled to the ground as the other soldier roared and charged Gaz, swinging his hooked bayonet at his head. Gaz raised his autogun and deflected the clumsy attack, following it up with a kick to the groin. The pact soldier staggered back, hunched over in pain for just a moment. He roared in rage and looked up, only to find a cold steel barrel inches from his face. Gaz squeezed the trigger three times, and the pact soldier fell to the ground, joining his comrade in a quickly spreading pool of blood.

Gaz slumped to the ground, suddenly keenly aware of the pain in his arm. As he held firm on the wound, a thought entered his mind unbidden – what did he mean when he said I was supposed to have died? Did they know he was coming, or was that him reading too much into this? It was probably nothing, but it stuck in his mind anyway. Either way, it wasn’t important now. He still had to find his friends, and barring that, a job to do. He would do it alone if he had to.

A quick search of the Blood Pact soldiers turned up nothing but cheap autogun ammunition and crude torture implements. He stood up, glad they had not taken him alive, and looked around to get his bearings. He assumed his team, if they were alive, were likely scattered to the East, but their objective was several kilometers to the West. If they had lived and were in any condition to do so they would be headed West to the objective as well. He was also sure any Blood Pact members in the area had probably heard the gunfight, so he needed to get moving. He put his helmet back on and checked his gear one final time before setting out to the West.

Because this is essentially Fanfiction, I'm going to move this into the fan fiction subforum. Hope you enjoy it.

Definitely enjoying it! You've got a good, fluent writing style there.

Thanks. This is my first attempt at writing fiction since grade school, so I'm glad you like it.