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Description
This was done because someone wrote a short story for Scornful Tides; I'll probably end up doing another one soon for a different person. it's just a quick snippet of what fighting at the bottom of the sea is like for these guys.

The Air was stale and cold as it wheezed through its ancient tubes into the mask of Guardsmen of the 303'rd. Marine Caspin Thrin felt the air seep into his lungs and the shiver run up and down his spine. The first few breaths after the plunge where always the worst. There where technical explanations. The chill of the water hitting the thermo regular webbing. The pressure hitting the padded and jell filled armor to stop the depths from squeezing you like a squeeze ration. But no matter how it was explained. It felt like the hands of a deamon putting its hands right onto your soul. Squeezing your life out slowly.

Soon the air went from chilled and stale to hot and stale. The silt of the southern end of Tzelgenoth grasped you. Its sucking muck holding you down like the maw of a bobbit worm. Weighted boots creating a trail as the formation marched out. You stay with in that trail. stomping down the silt and kicking aside debris for the person behind you.

Orks where caught in the deep sonar scans. The same way they caught the "Songs" of the deep beasts in mating season. Screaming in the depths. Challenging everything around it. They where getting more rowdy if the Dogfish teams could be believed. More bold in their attacks on transport and work crews.

Caspin checked his lasgun. The powerpack humming with warmth with in its slot of the rifle. Its over pressure barrel heavy in the front. Its urchin blade jutting out. Its end more for chasing off local wildlife and stabbing into the murk than for actually purging the enemies of man.

Time passed at this depth in a crawling strange twilight. Glowing deep sea life lit the way in bright pinks and icy blues. Photosensitive plankton hovered over deep sea rivers absorbing nutrints from the chemical rivers. Yet there was no sky just like the inside of the great hive cities. There was just the black abyss above them. No sun nor light beyond the varying animals and plants of the brine.

Soon the target began to loom. A great heap of scrap and rust between the rocks. A great many shipwrecks pulled together to create something that could pass as a fort if it was built on the surface and not at the bottom of the sea. With high walls and even a trench with spikes planted at its base around its entrance. Orkish faces painted about on hanging sea mines as if they where balloons! A sentry soon spotted the bewildered guardsmen and fired a shot from its weapon. A huge harpoon flew through the water at great speed only to miss its mark and land right into the silt.

Taken out of their stupor. The Drowned men began to separate. Taking cover behind rocks and debris of fallen ork vehicles. A great whaling sound of an air raid siren sang out as the battle started!

Written by an anonymous fan of ST.

Illustrated by me in photoshop

Description
This was done because someone wrote a short story for Scornful Tides; I'll probably end up doing another one soon for a different person. it's just a quick snippet of what fighting at the bottom of the sea is like for these guys.

The Air was stale and cold as it wheezed through its ancient tubes into the mask of Guardsmen of the 303'rd. Marine Caspin Thrin felt the air seep into his lungs and the shiver run up and down his spine. The first few breaths after the plunge where always the worst. There where technical explanations. The chill of the water hitting the thermo regular webbing. The pressure hitting the padded and jell filled armor to stop the depths from squeezing you like a squeeze ration. But no matter how it was explained. It felt like the hands of a deamon putting its hands right onto your soul. Squeezing your life out slowly.

Soon the air went from chilled and stale to hot and stale. The silt of the southern end of Tzelgenoth grasped you. Its sucking muck holding you down like the maw of a bobbit worm. Weighted boots creating a trail as the formation marched out. You stay with in that trail. stomping down the silt and kicking aside debris for the person behind you.

Orks where caught in the deep sonar scans. The same way they caught the "Songs" of the deep beasts in mating season. Screaming in the depths. Challenging everything around it. They where getting more rowdy if the Dogfish teams could be believed. More bold in their attacks on transport and work crews.

Caspin checked his lasgun. The powerpack humming with warmth with in its slot of the rifle. Its over pressure barrel heavy in the front. Its urchin blade jutting out. Its end more for chasing off local wildlife and stabbing into the murk than for actually purging the enemies of man.

Time passed at this depth in a crawling strange twilight. Glowing deep sea life lit the way in bright pinks and icy blues. Photosensitive plankton hovered over deep sea rivers absorbing nutrints from the chemical rivers. Yet there was no sky just like the inside of the great hive cities. There was just the black abyss above them. No sun nor light beyond the varying animals and plants of the brine.

Soon the target began to loom. A great heap of scrap and rust between the rocks. A great many shipwrecks pulled together to create something that could pass as a fort if it was built on the surface and not at the bottom of the sea. With high walls and even a trench with spikes planted at its base around its entrance. Orkish faces painted about on hanging sea mines as if they where balloons! A sentry soon spotted the bewildered guardsmen and fired a shot from its weapon. A huge harpoon flew through the water at great speed only to miss its mark and land right into the silt.

Taken out of their stupor. The Drowned men began to separate. Taking cover behind rocks and debris of fallen ork vehicles. A great whaling sound of an air raid siren sang out as the battle started!

Written by an anonymous fan of ST.

Illustrated by me in photoshop