Need a piece to be torn apart

[Grey Knight]

The AlleyPlanet. Home to dozens of powerful Cosmere organizations, and millions of other, non-magical humans. The metaphysical bonds that separated the three realms were strained here, put into tension by the massive weight of Investiture on the planet.

 

That just made it easier for the Dauntless to carve a hole through the fabric of reality, transitioning from the Spiritual Realm (Warp?) to realspace. On the planet below, it was as if a second sun had flared into existence, then been devoured again by the dark void of the night sky.

 

The Dauntless, now fully out of the glowing miasma, was a blunt-nosed vessel of war, with twin-linked point defense guns, interlocking fields of flak cannons, plasma lances decorating her stern, and a massive railgun set along her top. She was a battleship, the mightiest vessel in the Imperium’s arsenal, and more ancient than even the Astartes on board her.

 

At least, that’s what Drako thought. In reality, she had been a plastic mini until a month ago, when Imperator had  awakened the massive ship and sent her through the strange portal that had brought Drako here. The Reckoners had killed him moments later.

 

Drako had found the Dauntless only days ago, fleeing from the planet Scadrial after a disastrous attempt to assassinate Mace. To his joy and gratitude, Imperator had sent one more gift- an army of space marines from the Salamanders Chapter. He’d found them confused and frightened, and about ready to start obliterating each planet they came across. It had taken a long time to dissuade them, but he'd finally succeeded.

 

A little too well, actually. He'd been unanimously voted into the office of chapter master, the other marines convinced of his wisdom and experience.

 

Drako couldn’t deny that a part of him wanted this- the power, the relics, the glory. The other part sighed, reminded himself that he had barely lived longer than these Astartes, and started to tackle the logistical problems facing his Salamanders.

 

Everything boiled down to them being homeless. Without a base of power, the Salamanders had nowhere to rest, recruit new initiates, or resupply. They would become trapped on the Dauntless, their most powerful weapon becoming their prison.

 

All that would have to wait, unfortunately. First, the Salamanders had a grudge to settle.

-------------------------------

End story.

 

First things first: this is an utterly awful piece of writing thrown together in less than half an hour. I need y'all's help to make it halfway readable. It's intended to be posted into the roleplaying section on the Shard, if that helps.

 

First problem- the description of the battleship. Since this comes from Warhammer 40k, it's big and covered with guns. I'm struggling to convey the massive scale of this beast in my writing. Any suggestions are welcome. A picture of the battleship is attached below.

 

Second problem- Drako's transition to leadership. It's rushed, sloppy, and doesn't make sense. Suggestions are welcome there, too.

 

Third problem- a general lack of detail. This piece feels... empty. It fails to immerse the reader, to really bring the scene of a moon-sized spaceship ripping its way through reality, letting raw and unbound Investiture spill out of the Spiritual Realm. I've attached below a picture of what I think the scene should bring to mind.

 

Spoiler

 

[Nathrangking he/him]

In reference to one at least forget the glamour of the picture. Reconstruct it in your mind. Envision  each piece and then the whole. This will make it easier to build a description. Only you know the way that you want to describe it.