This is an accounting of deeds for unsung heroes - a brotherhood of castoffs and miscreants. It begins with the past...
Epilogue: Part 1 - Son of Antaeus
Even among brothers, I am reviled.
Until my strength is needed, I am a sufferance and little more. Between undertakings I am left to my own devices, which suits my humors. I have taken great solace in meditation and verse. I will admit that I sometimes yearn for the brotherhood I once knew; among those of my own ilk where my stature saw me as one of many rather than an anomaly and a source of mistrust and superstition.
The squad vox clicked in Gigas’ ears.
He smiled behind his face-plate; this was what he was made for, and glory did it feel good. Gigas broke from cover at a dead run and charged like a bull grox straight for the bulkhead door. The melta bombs detonated a half second before impact, weakening the structural integrity of the portal at critical junctures. Gigas’ massive body knocked the armored panel clear of the frame, sending it to clatter a dozen meters and make a mess of those unfortunate enough to be sheltering behind it. His brothers followed close on his heels, taking advantage of the mobile cover his over-bulked frame afforded.
One cultist leveled a heavy mining laser at Gigas, hitting him square in the chest at point blank range. Where another brother would have been felled, if not mortally wounded, Gigas grunted and took one step backwards. He cocked his head to the side, flexing his empty gauntlets.
“A good attempt,” he rumbled and gathered the hybrid-thing in his massive arms.
Gigas squeezed, feeling the cracking and crunch of his victim’s skeleton collapsing, then hurled the corpse at the next of its heinous kind. The hybrid ducked and recovered, swinging trefoil limbs in deadly arcs of chitin. Gigas felt the impacts, grunting as his foe’s claws sheared through ceramite on his chest and thighs. He reached for it, seeking to draw it into his crushing embrace, but the thing was hellishly fast. Gigas sighed and, almost resignedly, reached for his hammer.
Watch Sergeant Indrii curled his lip, using one boot to dislodge the monstrosity weighting down the blade of his nimcha.
“Report,” he demanded of his brothers.
Three vox-clicks signaled the all-clear. Indrii frowned. “Gigas-”
A massive body flew at his head, forcing the sergeant to duck. He recognized the shattered remains of an Aberrant as it sailed overhead.
“Clear,” the giant boomed, sounding pleased with himself. He appeared relaxed, resting the haft of his absurdly large weapon on one massive shoulder. Indrii suppressed the urge to spit.
“That was intentional…” Brother Owain hissed over a private channel. Indrii silenced him with a gesture. He looked at Gigas and pointed with his sword. “Perimeter, go.”
No thanks are necessary, which is well as none are given. I content myself with my role, knowing that I perform it very well. Service is its own reward. And until the day when I am reunited with my kin – whether in this life or the next – I will hold my ground.
That is what I was made for.
Edited by Dumah, 23 March 2020 - 09:04 PM.