Author Topic: Grymn Fluff - Torsten and the end of the war  (Read 2000 times)

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Grymn Fluff - Torsten and the end of the war
« on: October 09, 2014, 12:48:01 PM »

Torsten looked to his left and right with a satisfied smile.  On both sides of him, in tight little groups were Grymn squads as far as he could see through the trees along the forest edge.  They all wore camouflaged paint and had leaf litter spread over their kit to disguise them even further.  Torsten looked out of the trees and into the distance.  Across the green fields were the specks of far-off enemy troops and vehicles.  They were getting nearer but were still far enough away for Torsten to breathe the air and calm his thoughts, ready for the battle ahead.
This day had been a long time coming.  Time and time again, the Sleiti had sent their minions to try and destroy the Grymn.  Time and time again, the Grymn had fought bravely and triumphed.  Today was going to be different.  Today the Sleiti had arrived in great numbers to do their own dirty work.
Torsten’s thoughts were distracted for a moment as a pair of short range, ground attack, fighters raced over his head towards the enemy.  He watched them streak towards the Sleiti lines at breakneck speed before unleashing a stream of rockets into the ranks of enemy troops.  It seemed impossible but none of the rockets hit their mark as they seemed to be deflected by some unseen force that sent them twisting out of control in all directions.  While Torsten watched the scene, a blinding, blue tinged search-light cut through the sky; vapourising the lead fighter and cutting the wing off the second one.  He watched as the stricken aircraft instantly went into a flat spin and impacted the ground in spectacular fashion.  Torsten thought how brave the pilots had been and made a mental note that he would personally mark their names on the wall of fallen; if he made it back himself.
It had taken a long time for the enemy to close but now Torsten could see them clearly.  The sleek biological walking machines held the flanks while the bulk of the troops were the lithe figures of the Sleiti nobles; the Fathers.  They strode purposefully forward with the arrogance of a prince out hunting game.  Behind the foot-troops were unusually shaped hover vehicles with bizarrely shaped weapons mounted on them.  Torsten looked at the enemy and opened a communications channel to his army leaders. 
“Ready the troops and prepare to engage on my command” said Torsten.
There was no reply but Torsten could hear the sounds of weapons being made ready.  He turned to the Grymn stood to his left and smiled a fatherly smile.  The young Grymn was nervous but still stood proudly next to Torsten.  In one hand, he held a pulse pistol and in the other he held a bugle.  His eyes were shining and he appeared to be waiting keenly for the order to come.
“Sound the order, Jergen” said Torsten.
Jergen raised the bugle to his lips and sounded the attack.  Almost as soon as the first note could be heard, ripples of gunfire blazed from the tree-line.  No sooner had the first shots been fired, the Grymn assault walkers burst from the trees and into the flanks of the Sleiti, engaging with their opposite numbers.  Huge plumes of earth began to erupt in the ranks of Sleiti troops as the artillery found their mark and bodies began to spin, broken into the air.
The Sleiti continued to close.
To his right, Torsten heard the roar of jump packs as Tiger squadron screamed over head.  They dropped like eagles on to the Sleiti bio-tanks and began to assault them with pistols and power weapons; tearing at the skins of the tanks like frenzied animals ripping into stricken prey.  In support, grav bikes from Raven squadron weaved around the vehicles; strafing any areas that weren’t covered by brightly clad Grymn.  Through it all he noticed Thor, Torge’s bodyguard OGrymn, lift the front of a bio-tank and roll it over onto its side before un-sheathing his power hammer from his back and smashing it into the soft, underside of the vehicle.  In moments there was a mix of bile, blood and gore spilling from the wounds caused by the furious onslaught.
Without warning, the battlefield seemed to sigh.  It was almost like someone taking a deep breath before exhaling.  Torsten instinctively ducked and shouted for everyone to take cover but it was too late.  The shockwave rippled from the centre of the Sleiti army and spread out, like the strands of a spider-web.  Every Grymn that it touched was sent flying outward, away from the battle in an uncontrolled and often painful spiral.  Every Sleiti that was touched remained completely unaffected.
The onslaught that followed was unlike anything that Torsten had ever seen.  The lead Sleiti opened fire for the first time with devastating effect, their weapons spewing forth a continuous beam of pallid blue light.  Everything it hit was thrown backwards with such concussive force that armour could be heard to crack under the pressure.  Grymn were dying in their droves.  Torsten watched in horror as Sigurd was torn in half by one of the beams, her entrails spilling out like the tendrils of a jellyfish.   She was not alone as Gunnar met a similar fate and young Tearl was decapitated in a spray of arterial blood.  Torge’s command unit was next to be hit but they were too quick and jumped clear, only losing two of their number to the horrific weapons.  All around the battlefield the blue lights were doing their evil work.  Grymn were being tossed about like rag dolls with few Sleiti falling in return.  Torsten was furious.  He could feel the rage building in him like an unstoppable tide.  It would not be long before the berserk rage would take him and he would get his revenge.  He looked to Jergen and said “sound the reserves”.
Jergen blew his bugle and did as was ordered.  A terse stream of notes blared across the battle field.  On both flanks, Grymn tanks emerged and began to fire their rail-guns and heavy pulse-guns into the Sleiti forces.  Some tanks were destroyed by return fire but others continued with their slaughter.  In moments some of the lithe walkers that the Sleiti had positioned to protect their flanks, moved to engage the Grymn tanks.  Torsten knew that his time had come.
“Jergen...sound the Krakken call” he said.
The bugle sounded a single piercing note that seemed to go on for ever and strike deep into the very heart of every Grymn on the field.  All the Grymn in combat seemed to be invigorated by the sound as they redoubled their efforts and strove to succeed where they had been failing a moment ago.
Torsten tilted his head back and let loose a war-cry that was echoed from various places behind him in the trees.  His eyes were glazed and the veins on his forehead were pulsing with uncontained fury as he began his headlong charge toward the enemy; his glowing power axe gripped in an unbreakable grip.  His white powered-armour shone brightly as its servo enhanced systems drove Torsten forward as fast as a speeding scout-bike.  Following in his wake were at least fifty other power-armoured troops and they were storming towards the enemy with equal rage and speed.  Each of them wore white armour and carried a power axe and a variety of heavy carbine weapons.  Within moments the white surge met the lines of enemy troops and sheer carnage occurred.  Sleiti began to get thrown in all directions as the glowing blades with all the servo-assisted might of the powered-armour reaped through them.  Limbs were hewn and entrails spilled as Torsten and his fellow Krakken tore into the Sleiti with such fury that none could stand before them.  Even when Broff was struck and his carbine carrying arm was torn off at the elbow, his fury enabled him to continue fighting.  He bowled into his aggressor and disembowelled him with a single upward stroke of his axe.
The Sleiti were in disarray as the furious onslaught of the Krakken continued to decimate their ranks.  Although the odd one or two had fallen, the white clad warriors were causing so much damage that something needed to be done; and quickly too.  The Sleiti began to fall back.  At first in an orderly manner but then in a panic as the Krakken kept pace with them and continued their work.  After a short distance the battlefield sighed for a second time as the strange Sleiti weapon fired again, throwing all the Grymn outward from the source and not affecting any Sleiti in the process.  Once the effect had finished and the Grymn soldiers started to find their feet again, a small group of Sleiti stepped forward with their arms held out to the side.  They had blank expressions but seemed to be glowing with an unnatural light.  Suddenly there was a high pitched sound that echoed through the minds of all the Grymn.  Almost as one, they held their hand to their ears and dropped to their knees as intense pain filled every fibre of their bodies.  Blood began to seep through fingers as eardrums burst.  Red tears began to drip from bleeding eyes as the pain increased to an unbearable level.  It seemed that nothing could be done to prevent the searing torture that was being inflicted on them.  The Grymn were falling and there was nothing they could do but lie down.
Almost as quickly as the pain arrived, it finished.  Torsten felt as though he had woken from a dream as his berserk rage had left him.  He tried to get to his feet but every fibre of his body ached and he felt a wave of nausea rush through him.
“Stay your hand master Gryyymn, it is not your time for the fight” echoed a whispering voice through his mind.
Torsten looked around but saw nothing except a sudden look of terror cross the faces of the leading Sleiti.  Almost serenely, one of them dropped to the floor.  After a short moment, the others followed suit.  All around the battlefield was quiet as Grymn started climbing to their feet and regaining their composure.  As they rose, they noticed that there were allies amongst them and they were striding purposefully towards the enemy.  They were twice the height of Grymn and were wearing a mix of light armour plates and long robes.  They either carried a staff or a rifle but very little else.   Their modesty was covered by a tabard but apart from that, not a lot more. 
Soon the newcomers engaged the Sleiti.  It seemed a strange sort of fight as there were only the sounds of enemy weapons and not the new Grymn allies.  Everything that was thrown at them was deflected by an unseen force and when they returned fire with rifle or staff, Sleiti just seemed to die for no obvious reason as the allies weapons emitted no signs of being fired.
The Grymn reacted to what was going on and began a charge toward the enemy lines.  With a roar they bounded towards the Sleiti as they sensed that they could achieve a victory.  After a few hundred yards they came to an abrupt halt as they hit an invisible wall and were consumed by waves of nausea.  A whispered voice filled their heads...
“It is not your time to fight young Gryyymn” it said.
All they could do was watch as their new allies committed genocide in front of the Grymn.  Every last Sleiti was found and killed.  Every animated weapon, destroyed.  Not a sound came from the allied weaponry and everything that was killed just seemed to fall down dead with no injury or suffering.  They just fell down dead.  It was warfare the like of which had never been seen by the Grymn before.  There was no marshal pride or dignity involved.  There was no glory or bravery.  It was just a silent cull that left only a single Sleiti alive and his name was Ieuan.
As the assembled Grymn and their allies gathered around the table, the Sleiti named Ieuan looked at each of them with an emotionless stare.
“The war with the Gryyymn ends now and will not resume for all future” said the whispered voice in the minds of all those present “you will return to your species and pass on this dictate”.
Ieuan nodded and was allowed to leave the assembly, board his ship and leave.  He did so with no emotion and no sound.  He didn’t even give a backwards glance as the door closed and his ship shimmered into the sky.
Torsten turned to his ally and said “Zoota, is it finally over after all these years?”
“Yes Tooorsten Gryyymn, it is over” replied Zuuh’tah.
The Grymn war with the Sleiti had ended and they could now settle on their world in the knowledge that they would have to flee no more. 
The only thing they had to do now was to find out more about their new allies...
The light at the end of the tunnel is just someone with a torch, locking the gate.

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