So, been a while, huh? Anyway, just something that popped into my mind. Enjoy.
Hell lives in a constant state of perpetual fear. For he at any moment may strike and leave an area devoid of life. For thousands of years it has been this way, for he shall never die. Countless imps fall under his boots and innumerable demons fall before his waves of hate. For heis the Doom Slayer, the one with the incorruptible soul, the one who Hell itself hath wronged.
Hell is a place that shall ever be a place of death and destruction. It is not uncommon to see demons curled, awaiting the crushing boots or the burning ammunition upon the plains. Holidays are unimportant to dark lords, and their underlings shall never have a "day off." But, Hell's scribes have a deal with him. For they shall count the days and years and eons and shall send an envoy of scribes to inform him of the date.
Yes, Hell has no holiday. But it does have a break. The scribes of Hell count the time and inform himof the date. The day that Hell knows as the Hours of Rest. When the Doom Slayer shall leave Hell and return hours later invigorated and energized. It is the one period of which demons shall remain safe from death. But it lasts all too short.
Another day in Hell for a Baron of Hell consists of standing around, grabbing the occasional Imp or Unwilling to chow down, and ordering his underlings about. When the sound of gunfire echoes from the rooms before him, he steels himself for a fight, and for death. No demon should ever go into a fight expecting victory if it is against him. The Hell Knights before him fall, a rocket sealing their fate. He too falls, and gazes into his helmet, before seeing the moving teeth of the Great Communicator. He hears it increase in speed, and braces himself for the pain, before-
"Augh!" Yells a demon as the Baron and Doom Slayer both turn to gaze at them. The Baron sees the scribes and relaxes, knowing that he may still live but a few hours longer. The scribes bow to him and the lead scribe, denoted by the quills poked into its scalp, present a scroll of parchment to him. The Doom Slayer takes the scroll and unfurls it. Finding the information acceptable, he returns it to the lead scribe by thrusting it through its skull, as has always occurred.
The Doom Slayer leaves them, stomping on the now broken skull of a Hell Knight as he leaves. The Baron slowly stands, thankful for the date. Should it be a day sooner, or the scribes arrive just moments later, he would join his Hell Knights in death. A rare moment of peace occurs, and he watches the Doom Slayer leave, to the portal to the outer realms. Where he goes on this day none shall know but him and those he meets.
The Doom Slayer leaves the portal, arriving on a planet where the jungle is Hell in the materium. The trees reach toward the sky and the ground becomes alive, sinking and bubbling like a bog. The Doom Slayer reaches for his pistol and charges a shot. He releases it into the air, and begins to wait. The one he's expecting could not come soon enough.
Colonel Straken looks out amongst his Catachan II Jungle Fighters with pride. They are in the middle of a knife measuring competition. He looks back into his tent and sees private Marbo sleeping. 'The man has earned it, saving a primarch from a horned toad.' Earlier that day, Corvus Corax and Vulkan, the primarchs, had visited them briefly and Sly Marbo saved Corvus Corax from a Catachan Horned Barking Toad. His thoughts are interrupted by a shot in the air, and looking over he smirked before rousing Marbo.
"Wake up, son. Your father's here." Spoke the colonel. Marbo was already up, grabing his weapons and heading toward the shot. "Ah, Father's Day. Good to see they have a good relationship." The colonel turned back to the jungle fighters. "Is that what you maggots call a knife? My ARM is a knife!"
The Doom Slayer had waited for about a minute before he saw his son launch himself towards him. He landed gracefully and for a moment, neither moved. The Doom Slayer slowing removed his helmet and looked at his son with pride. Sly Marbo rushed towards his father and embraced him. It was only right that the silent Unchained Predator would birth the stealthy Hero of the 41st Millennium.
So, whaddya think? Had the idea a few days ago and decided to write this to get back into the swing. I have another idea in the works coming up of similar subject matter.