Kill Team narrative

Greetings all! A friend of mine is dipping his toe into the turbulent universe of 40K, and wanted to try out Kill Team to get a feel for it. His army of choice is Orks, and I thought this would be a good way to get things rolling with my Death Guard. So to that end, I wrote up a quick opening narrative to set the stage. Here goes:

It was a miserable day. The low-hanging purple-hued clouds were raining down, the acidic rain leaving a slightly bitter tang in the air,akin to ozone. The mud was thick and cloying, sucking at the slow, deliberate footfalls which would have sent a lesser man sprawling. Here and there the mud changed color due to gouts of ichor that had been spilled. Occasionally a hand or a torso could be spotted. The buzzing of the flies was noticeable and threatened to drown out the downpour of the acid rain.

     Craters pock-marked the ground, sulphuric vapor hung heavy across the scene of carnage as though trying to veil the bloodbath that had occurred just moments before. The scene looked almost surreal, like one of the expressionist paintings that were created on Terra centuries ago. A feverish, nightmarish vision of ‘hell’.

“hell…” a voice mused.

     There followed a wet, rasping noise from the vox grille, which was evidently laughter, but sounding more like a sickly gurgle from mucous thick lungs.

“It appears that the greenskins have dug in and think they can deny us what is rightfully ours. They are stubborn, but they will fall as though wheat before the scythe. We must show them the price of their misjudgment”

      Vanis Bubonicus stepped up onto the crest of a rocky outcrop and surveyed the area before him. Across the mired landscape he could see the citadel which contained what they had come for: forbidden xenos technology that had been vaulted by the loyalist Mechanicum. A vanguard of Orks had intercepted their data scans and had also made planetfall in an attempt to take the artifacts for themselves. Brutish they may be, but it belied the cunning beneath, something which Vanis both admired and loathed. To underestimate the greenskins meant death.

     Vanis half turned his head to his second in command, Lothar the Impure, who stood seven paces behind him.

“We press the assault brother, let us take the artifacts and lay waste to our enemies. Determined and methodical, as our gene father taught us”

“As you wish my lord” replied Lothar before turning away to relay the orders to the squad.

     Vanis tilted his head slightly, as though listening to words only he could hear. The unnatural horns protruding from his helm making his visage look like that of a daemon prince. As the squad of Death Guard walked up the incline toward their leader,they saw him gesture with his hand, and with that the droning of flies became louder. Suddenly they were surrounded by obscene flying insects, a cloud of bloated thoraxes and proboscis’, a living, flying death. The nurglings that clung to Vanis’ armor squealed with delight. Another gesture from Vanis’ hand and the cloud of flies surged forward, down from their position toward the Ork lines.

Vanis turned to his squad and spoke. A voice like crushed granite addressed them.

“Onward, my brothers. Today we bring the gifts of Plaguefather Nurgle to this planet, let us make him proud of our victory. Onward my brothers, to the citadel and to our prize. Let none stand in our way. Onward, for Mortarion and for the Plaguefather!”

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