Warhammer 40k Soldier Novels & Stories

He held out a small parcel and a ceramic flask with a golden cap. “Here,” the man said. His voice, muffled by the mask that was covering the lower half of his face. He was dressed like the men from earlier, although he didn’t have a turban wrapped around his head. “All I have at the moment is some bread and a little bit of leftover wine. If you wait a little, you can have some meat. How do you feel about desert rat?” Jade almost puked. Who the hell eats rodents?

I shifted my gaze to the prince and he looked so mad. "Your Highness, Her Majesty wanted to see you at the back." One of the soldiers reported without lifting his head up. "Do you know what's happening here, number 4?" The Prince coldly asked. Each one of the soldiers have numbers embedded on the right chest of their armors. The numbers probably signifies their names. Who would have thought their names would be numbers? But how about this one soldier here? I shifted my gaze on the soldier who, until now, has his sword pointed on me. His attention was on the prince so there's a chance that he might forget the sword and might even move it accidentally and hit me.

The soldiers outside were pale with fear, their faces reflecting hopelessness. The beast's terrifying energy surged, filling the air with an oppressive presence. Overwhelmed, the soldiers turned to Tyler for guidance. "General, what should we do?" one soldier asked, panic rising in his voice. Tyler's voice was resolute, filled with killing intent. "Hold the line! Form up and strengthen the formation! We must endure!" The Ancient Ram Beast's attacks slammed into the soldiers' defensive formation, sending shockwaves through the air. Each strike's energy seemed capable of shattering everything in its path.

he said with a heavy sigh. “Then you have blackguards to contend with before reaching the necromancers,” he added in, pointing to a line of soldiers that were watching the battle intently, every one of them had matte black armour, a sword on their hip and a medium-sized shield with a white rams skull emblem in the middle of it, they were occasionally throwing up a shield to block an arrow or fireball directed to their charge, “They are the elite of the fae, magic using soldiers, skilled in combat with either.”

He looked down into the vault, his visor glowing with a harsh, hunting red. "Target acquired," the soldier’s voice boomed, amplified by his suit’s speakers. "The Architect is locked in the center. Secure the asset. Eliminate the support." Nikos turned his gaze to the intruder, his face devoid of fear, his mind already drifting into the infinite, buzzing expanse of the Ledger. "Aris, move!" As Aris dove toward the shadows of the bulkhead, the soldier rappelled into the room, his boots hitting the iron floor with a final, echoing thud. The air in the vault began to hum with a high-pitched whine—the sound of the core reaching critical mass.

Jackson kicked his door open and rolled out just as bullets started pinging against the armored plating. Shadows emerged from the fire. These weren't normal soldiers. One of Arthur's men walked through the flames. His clothes were burning, but he didn't seem to feel it. His eyes glowed with a faint, sick green light. He walked up to a car blocking his way and flipped it over with his bare hands. "They are enhanced," Jackson cursed. He aimed and fired. Bang! The shotgun blast hit the soldier in the chest. He stumbled back, fell... and then stood up again, shaking off the impact like a fly bite.

Getting out of the Artemia Kingdom and finishing their intended task without losing a soldiers is the ideal outcome that Samel desires, but the participation of the death soldiers will surely tear apart his ideal if he did not stop them. Death soldiers are pitiful werewolves that were forced to become emotionless puppets that could be controlled by the cause of their sufferings. They do not fear death and injuries, and they merely rush on without caring about anything else than to complete the order of their master. Such soldiers are ticking time bombs that would one way or another change the flow of the battlefield. Killing them is the best solution that Samel could think, because his soldi

“Yes, sir.” “Bloody Picts, they ravaged and burnt it beyond our ability to recover.” Hands flipped the horizontal soldier over. “Yes, he’s breathing, sir. First one we’ve found in the territory.” The hoof beats stopped nearby, but the eyes of the soldier didn’t open. “By the gods, look at him, covered in blood and filth, his shield broken and no sword.” Many hands shook him. “Come on, soldier.” A voice commanded, “State your name and rank, soldier.”

His lips pecked my cheeks softly, and before I could digest all what had been said, his figure disappeared out of my sight. ~RIKAS~ I dragged my sword on the grounds, causing a disturbing sound as the metal graze into the solid. I could have used magic to disappear with Sofia if i had wanted to run away. They were a fully equipped Martian soldiers with horses and shields, backed by a large herd of the sly Erisian soldiers. “Surrender your weapons!” Said, the soldier at the forefront. I mentally noted that he could probably be their commander, or even one of the generals since his uniform stood out in color. Though it was still different from the one Rotip wore.

no one could give him a plausible reply as they were all lost in their very own thought. one of the soldiers with a spear faced head straight with one of the creatures, we could tell it was a dark creature with a bull horn and a rocky skin, it eyes were bloody red and the fangs dripping some gluey fluid and its long finger-like claws very long and sharp, the soldier who was a werewolf decided to take his speed ability as an opportunity but was caught off guard by it, as he was the first soldier to die by those creatures hand. Marek and Kingu could no longer watch the manslaughter of the soldiers, they unsheathed their swords, ready to join in the fight with the rest of the stand-by soldiers.