Two little rejections

Back during my first round of kidney issues, I entered a Games Workshop submissions contest. The brief was simple, in under 250 words write two engaging and exciting stories. The first was to feature a battle between a space marine and an ork. The other was to be about a space marine briefing his men, or giving an impassioned speech. 

Unfortunately the stories were rejected as not reaching their standards. Since I can’t really sell them on any where else, I thought I’d just dump them here.

Space Marine versus Ork

Guthrust Throatslitta was the heavily scarred veteran of a thousand bitter battles. His choppa crashed into his enemy’s blue power armour, screeching as if eager to taste flesh. The marine twisted, and Guthrust’s heavy blade slid off, carving a chunk from the raised Ultramarines chapter symbol. A lightning-quick punch from the marine followed, stars exploding behind Guthrust’s eyes with the force.

He rocked back, a whole step, something that he had never done before. Rage filled him, an oomie was nothing compared to him, a Death Skulls Nob. The marine immediately followed up and slashed, his power sword humming, moving so fast that it created a sharp-edged crescent in the air. Biting deep, the razor-sharp edge sliced through Guthrust’s meaty bicep. Foul-smelling smoke filled the air and Guthrust roared in pain as the arm dropped to the ground. 

Ignoring the pain, Guthrust stepped, launching a massive headbutt into the marine’s face, his reinforced skull plates smashing into the marine’s face with mind-numbing force. Not even a marine could withstand such a blow and his knees buckled, his guard dropping. Guthrust rammed his choppa into the marine’s stomach, the tip punching through the ancient armour before finally plunging into the intestines behind. With a vicious twist and a tug, he yanked his weapon out, guts spewing from the hole. Laughing, he slashed the blade across the marine’s throat, killing him instantly. 

Picking up his arm, he set off in search of a Painboy.

Scout Sergeant Briefing

Scout Sergeant Gladius forced his eyes to focus on the scouts around him amidst the twisted wreckage of their Rhino. The cultist ambush had been perfectly planned and executed. He knew that it was arrogance that had led the marines to assume the way was safe. Anti-tank missiles, and suicide bombers had proven them wrong.  

“Brothers, the Crusade is at a critical point. The greenskins are on the back foot for the first time since we arrived.” He paused, coughing as thick smoke billowed past, crushed chest struggling to rise. “The objective is simple. Explosives are to be placed on five promethium storage tanks as marked on your slates. You are to get in and out without detection. They are to be set for ten hours from now. The resulting blast will match that of an orbital strike.”

“If successful you will eradicate every cursed xenos within ten kloms, and remove the only source of fuel in this sector. Succeed, and the battle is ours.” He sighed as he felt his organs failing.

“Whilst you are not full members of the Ultramarines, you carry the seed of the finest warrior in history. You carry his memory, his legend and his honour. Fail and you not only fail me, you fail the company, the chapter, our Primarch.” He coughed again, spitting blood-black gore onto the ground. ”

As his breath slowed, vision dimming, he watched the Neophytes stride through the smoke, knowing that they would succeed. 

“Make me proud brothers.”