‘Duel in the Shadows’

The Warboss stopped, lowering the rusted barrel of his oil stained shoota as he sniffed the air. Lightening briefly illuminated the scene of destruction that surrounded him, the peel of thunder echoing around the labyrinth of a shattered city as he slowly turned in search of what he sought.

Vamtice gunned his jump pack, hurtling out of the shadows and slamming into the immense bulk of the Ork and taking him clean off his feet. They smashed through the wall of the derelict Sanctum, Deathskull and Raven Guard as one, raining curses and debris into the midnight air around them as they flew.

The ruin trembled under the impact, halting the duo’s flight against the buttress of a stone archway. The blades of the lightning claw, long and sharp, protruded from the greenskins chest. With ease they punched through the patchwork armour and grizzly trophies hanging around the Ork’s neck, plunging deep into the muscular flesh and hardened bone underneath.

The Captain looked up, breathing hard at the exertion of keeping the Ork pinned to the stone. Thick, viscous drool slowly issued between his adversary’s tusk-like teeth, glistening in the moonlight that streamed through the shattered roof above them. Flecks of blood slowly turning to smears, the saliva oozed down onto the Vamtice’s breastplate, marring the polished sliver Aquila below.

The claw crackled with energy, globules of its victim’s blood fizzing as it trickled down the blades. The Captain sensed the greenskin’s body relaxed in defeat, the crude bloated gun slipping from its hand and disappearing into the rubble crevasses’ that surrounded them. In the darkness, the distant thunder of battle raged as rain began to fall, its first droplets streaking the soot from both combatants’ faces.

A cough, or perhaps a laugh, broke the muffled silence. Vamtice met his enemy’s gaze. Slowly, through blood stained teeth, the Warboss’s grimace turn to a vile grin. The soft clink of metal on stone made the captain look down, just in time to see the small steel pin bouncing off the shattered rubble. In its hand, the greenskin held a rough cylinder of metal plates and spikes, unmistakably a looted imperial grenade.

Vamtice tried to jerk free, but with its last strength the Ork raised his huge arms and embraced the Captain for death, the laugh now unmistakable on its dying breath.

The world turned white.

 

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