Contest Material

Fear is the enemy of Faith.

Those were the last words Uryn read.

He wasn’t dead; his primer was suddenly jerked from his hand by the unexpected pitching of the Valkyrie he was riding in, and the rapid opening of the side doors. The harsh wind created a vacuum that sucked out the small black rectangle, pages flapping wildly, and dulling the sound of the klaxon alarm signaling them to “Get the frag out!” as his old sergeant would say. Normally, the eight man squad would already be leaping out of the shrieking craft, grav-packs humming in anticipation of their activation altitude, but there was one issue this time.

The black-purple armored warrior steadying itself just outside one door.

The Dark Eldar were one of the reasons the Elysian’s were here, not the main reason, but the sadistic bastards were making themselves into a larger nuisance than expected. The xeno that had latched itself to his squad’s Valkyrie was called a ‘Scourge’, colloquially nicknamed ‘Buzzards’ by the Elysian’s, this thing was a major threat. On its back was a large weapon, capable of rendering the entire squad into chunky paste if it managed to fire it.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

Pushing himself off the small bench, Uryn propelled himself across the cargo hold, bodily impacting the warrior and sending them both into free-fall. Luckily, he’d remembered to seal his helmet several minutes prior, unlike most of his squad, and therefore wasn’t immediately rendered breathless. Though, the crashing fist of the warrior on his back feebly attempted to do just that. The two began a strange clutching combat, both trying to simultaneously extricate themselves whilst ending the other’s life. The Eldar prying at Uryn’s harness, whilst he himself attempted to choke the lean xeno’s throat. After a few seconds of struggle, both agreed to give up, Uryn tucking his legs up and kicking the warrior away.

It took a quarter of a second to realize how stupid that was.

The revelation hitting him like an ex-wife, Uryn fumbled with his weapon, he had to kill that buzzard before he re-ignited his anti-grav and returned to murder his squad. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to use his shotgun, he immediately went for his pistol, unbuckling it and aiming it with both hands at the spiraling form below him. He didn’t know if it was the Emperor himself watching, but the blasted xeno seemed to be having trouble getting his wings to soar. Cranking the power setting up, Uryn squinted with one eye as he aimed for the thrumming jets.
As he squeezed the trigger, he mumbled a prayer under his breath, and felt a wash of relief as the thick blue bolt struck true.

The jet flickered and sputtered, the warrior panicking as it tried to start the pack to no avail, one jet sending the buzzard in a lazy circle.

Chuckling under his breath, Uryn holstered the pistol, straightening himself out for descent, readying for landing. Counting in his head, he made it to three when the jets extended with a clunk, and he flipped himself ramrod straight as the jets fired. He hit the ground with a thump, rolling forward on loamy jungle soil, and reflexively slapped the release on the pack. Before the pack had even hit the ground Uryn was up, shotgun in hand, eyes on the horizon.

No wonder he didn’t expect the warrior to drop on him.

The half-functional pack had still managed to save the xeno, allowing him enough push to hit the ground safely, performing the same tumble Uryn had. The main exception being that the warrior used his shoulder as a kick-off for the roll. Falling to a knee, Uryn shouted in surprise as the warrior released his own pack, pulling a pistol off his belt as he recovered.

“Impudent whelp, those wings carried me through a dozen raids!”

The xeno’s voice was strained through a filter in its helmet, coming through like a static laden vox message.

“Yeah, and this was your last one,” Uryn responded, accompanying the one liner with a blast from the shotgun.

The rounds were armor piercing slugs, which punched through the Scourge’s breastplate with ease, especially given their short distance. The force caused the warrior to spin, flinging away the pistol in the process, and falling onto its stomach. It struggled to right itself for a second, Uryn pumping a second round through the spine of its armor, and it lay silent. Ejecting the spent round, Uryn switched his vox bead on, relaying his safe landing to his squad, and checked his compass for the rendezvous point before jogging off into the jungle.