"Баннер" "Обложка" Ссылка
Update. Отрывок из Wrath of Iron и пара слов от его автора. "Отрывок"He went down hard, nearly blacking out as his helmet cracked against the floor. A hot trickle of blood ran down his temple as he pushed himself back up. For a moment, clouds of dust and bolter fire obscured what had happened, and he looked stupidly out through a cracked visor across the scene of desolation.
He saw two more monsters emerge from the swirling dust, firing their huge weapons steadily as they advanced. They picked off his men with silent efficiency. Some of the defending troops broke then, racing across the half-ruined chamber to get to the doors at the rear, but they didn’t get very far. Arela saw most of them torn clean in half as projectiles pumped clean through them before exploding like grenades.
He dragged himself to his feet again, his head light and his stomach churning. It had all happened so quickly. Dimly, he could hear the thunder of battle across the plains outside. Huge, grinding noises made the earth shake beneath him, and he could only guess at what kind of war engines had been landed.
One of the monsters turned from the slaughter to look in his direction. For a second, Arela stared right into its deathmask face. Two red eye-lenses stared back at him, glowing like twin embers in the smoke. The creature’s vox-grille – a downturned, contemptuous snarl of metal – glinted in the light of explosions going off.
Arela ran straight towards the monster. With nowhere to go and no chance of survival, he opted for one final act of defiance. As he ran, he fired his pistol and drew a rapier from the scabbard at his belt.
For all its bulk, the monster was fast – breathtakingly fast. Before Arela had taken another stride he found himself lifted up from the ground, clenched at the neck by a massive black gauntlet. He gasped for breath and his legs kicked out uselessly. His captor squeezed, and Arela dropped his blade. His vision blurred, and it was all he could do to look his killer in the eye.
‘I fight... for the Emperor,’ he gasped, blurting it out as if that fact could alter anything.
A metallic growl issued from the monster’s vox-grille.
‘You do not,’ it said, squeezing his neck and breaking his spine. ‘We do.’
