Some Writefaggotry

>>50045456
The footsteps retreated, and in short order his voice echoed back to me, pleading.
“It’s been eight years,” he cried, “We didn’t know what else to do! They told us-“
His voice was cut off by the sharp crack of a bolter. Though I didn’t see, I think some small part of me knew, and that was enough to make me break my silence, to sob my despair.
Another set of footsteps approached, heavier, pacing around the bed before stopping dead in front of me. They were metal, prosthetics, which extended up as far as his knees.
He knelt, dipping his head below the frame of the bed to look me over with a merciless expression. He was bald, his angular face marked with scars and his eyes devoid of pupils.

“Drag her out.” He ordered curtly.
Another who I hadn’t noticed knelt and grabbed me savagely, yanking me from my hiding place. I squeezed my eyes shut, my grip tightening around my pendant as a tube of hot metal pressed against my forehead.
“Wait,” I heard the bald man say, and the gun was removed from my forehead, “What is she holding?”
I opened my eyes to see him studying me with curiosity.

>>50045488
I looked down at the pendant, my hand shaking as I slowly uncurled my fingers from around it.
He took the bloodied two-headed bird from my grasp and held it up.
“Do you know what this is?” He asked me.
“The two-headed eagle.” I told him, my voice strangely devoid of emotion despite my state.
“How did this come to your possession?”
“It was Mama’s,” I replied honestly, his expression softened, and I continued speaking, “She gave it to me, she said that what the horned men tell us is a lie, but the two-headed eagle is the truth. I wasn’t supposed to wear it, but-“

“It’s okay,” he cut in with a gentle tone, “It’s called an Aquila, and you have proven your faith to it. Your mother was a wise woman.”
“Can I see her?” I asked, “Can I see my parents?”
I detected a hint of regret in his eyes when he spoke his next words, “They are resting now, but a Priest is going to take them to the Aquila very soon. You’ll see them again, eventually.”
He stood and spoke to the second man, clad in black and red with a helmet resembling a skull. He thought of death and little more.
“Mach, take her to my ship, have her faith tested, and if she passes the trials, bring her to my office.”

I do not remember much else of that night. The things I saw on the way to the shuttle and the pain of the purity trials make the whole experience blurred, like trying to peer through misted glass.
I was born into a world controlled by Chaos, yet by a random act of faith, a memory of a time before, I had been granted a chance to live a more noble life, a life in service to the Emperor's most holy inquisition.

Your writing seems technically fine, but your story is hard to judge from just what you've got here.
Maybe post some more and more people will have feedback.

>>50046471
Sure, the story takes a bit of a jump from the prologue, and the first chapter is kind of a bit of a self-contained story to set up the characters a little, with the main plot only really being set up at the end.
Hopefully, though, its okay...

***

By the Terran Antique Calendar I came to the Agri-World Prosper at the height of autumn, though planetside summer was still in season.
A majority of the planet’s major continent was a network of Market Cities and small townships that could barely be seen from the shuttle’s windows. Nevertheless, what I saw was a world covered in lush green and red, which had often been described to me as the ‘Orchard world’.
To think that there were no Hive Cities at all made my skin itch.

Our transport had deposited us under cover of night to a hill overlooking the neat rows of trees filling Pontiff’s Valley, and from there we walked, ascending the ancient pathways towards a building set into the hillside at the valley’s head.
A major chemical plant, the building’s purpose was to pump a cocktail of ingredients into the air that would cause the valley’s bounty to grow large and ripe regardless of the season.
And ample evidence had been handed to me of a cult embedded within the ranks of the workers.
Now we were crouching in the courtyard doorway, looking upon a mass of robed figures writhing in ritual unison around the central chimney stack while a corrupted magos stood over a vat, anointing it with the blessings of gods whose names I would rather forget.

(cont.)

>>50046562
Watching my back, clad in matt-black armour but having foregone her usual trenchcoat, Arbiter Leah Sianan checked her shotgun for what must have been the twelfth time during our approach.
“Fingers itching?” I asked.
“No guards,” she said, “Doesn’t do much to set me at ease.”
She glanced up with a faint smile, her neck-length blond curtains framing her angular face. She’d had many rejuvenat treatments over the years, yet none could erase the faint network of scars lining her left cheek.

I had known Leah longer than I had held a rosette, and I knew that beneath the armour hunched a woman of raw muscle who was intimidated by nothing short of an Astartes.
It was difficult to keep her unease from becoming contagious.
Behind her sat Macharius Tannhauser. Largely silent, brutally efficient, and practically immune to punishment, it was hard to fathom what he was thinking beneath the bug eyes of his Tempestus helmet.

I bought my auspex to bear, studying the readings with scrutiny. As far as I could see, no readings abounded save for the cluster near the compound’s central chimney stack.
A sickly-sweet smell that I soon identified as scorched flesh stung the air, and the stark stone corridors were daubed in sigils and runes, the shapes of which were so unnatural as to make my pulse quicken involuntarily.
“We got a plan?” Leah asked after a moment’s silence.
“Kill them.” Macharius wheezed flatly. I would have berated them, but at this stage the chant was so loud as to block out whatever we said at a whisper.

(cont.)

>>50046577
I took note of the stairwell off to the right.
Memory served me well that day, extensive study on the chemical plant’s layout had pointed out that the stacks were too unwieldy to stand alone, and so secondary support struts had been implemented in the upper levels to keep them from toppling.
“Bunker down here,” I ordered, taking off at a run towards the stairs, “Wait for my signal, and be prepared to retreat!”
The stairs rattled with the thud of metal beating against metal as I climbed, and I could only pray to the Emperor that the blasphemous chanting was enough to block it out.

I had lost my legs below the knees years ago, in what I consider to be one of the most gruelling missions of my early career. A story for another time, though. What I had now instead were the most extensive prosthetics the Mechanicus could provide, their capacity far beyond those of a normal human. And so my sprint carried me up several flights of stairs in short notice.
As I ran, I unclipped a string of melta bombs from my belt. I had anticipated having to resort to this, though my hope had been to arrive before the ritual and simply blow the stacks directly.
I veered off from the stairwell, darting out into an exposed corridor.
It was exactly as Leah had said: No guards whatsoever. I put the implications from my mind and slipped out onto the strut anchoring the colossal chimney to this floor.

Though I have many fears, some accumulated over a lifetime of hunting the galaxy’s most forsaken and miserable creatures, heights was never one of them. Yet I couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation as I stepped out onto the strut, walking along its ancient, rust-stained surface and setting one of the bombs into a large crevice between the strut and the chimney stack. The heat this close was immense, and even clad in Ignatus pattern power armour, sweat began to bead on my forehead.

(cont.)

>>50046609
My time was set once the bomb was primed, three minutes I’d granted myself. I had little faith it would be enough time for us to get out, but there was no telling what the Magos’ ritual concoction might do. Taint the harvest, warp the valley…maybe something worse.
I put those thoughts from my mind, judging the leap to the next strut a couple of floors below. It was a fair distance, but I had confidence my legs could take the impact. I jumped, and by some twist of misfortune found myself hanging onto the strut by my fingers.
Hauling myself up, I reached for the next charge only to find the entire belt missing.
“Inquisitor.” A cold, artificial voice called up from below.

I cast my gaze down and beheld the grinning, metal mandibles of the Magos pointing upwards towards me.
“Magos Klyte,” I said, “Several charges spring to mind right now, shall I add stealing my melta charges to the list?”
“Admirable,” he replied, “Humour in the face of death, but it won’t save you.”
I crouched, tilting my head under the pretence of interest while extracting something from the lining of my sleeve.

“I’m curious to note, Magos, your sermon seems eerily devoid of any form of protection.”
Despite my brave words, I was all too conscious of the countless side-arms the congregation now had pointed in my direction.
“Protection is an unnecessary distraction when one has eyes everywhere.”
Klyte lifted his arms, I could almost feel the smugness dripping from his voice despite its monotone. Not two seconds passed before my melta charge dropped past me, diffused, followed shortly by a grinning servo-skull daubed in obscene signs.

(cont.)

>>50046639
I sighed, shrugging nonchalantly. The blood was pulsing in my ears now, but I was hardly without contingency.
The device hidden in my palm, the one which, previously, had been concealed in my sleeve, became active with the press of a button. I placed it carefully between my feet and stood, smiling down at the Magos.
“I would say you’ve won, Klyte, but you really did bumble your way through this.”
“Yet here we are.” He said.
“Here we are…”

I levelled my plasma pistol and squeezed off two shots. The first caught the servo-skull and sent it spinning into the chimney stack, the second blasted the melta charges apart, causing a chain detonation which reduced a large swathe of the gathering to molten slag.
I took off at a run as gunfire pursued me, rebounding off the stonework as I made for the staircase.
Through the din, I could just make out the whine of a plasma gun and the repetitious crack of a combat shotgun.

Footsteps pounded up the stairwell below me, but I didn’t dare return fire for fear of hitting one of my own. Instead I kept going, keeping one hand firmly on the rail while lifting the other, tapping my vox mic thrice, clumsily, with my thumb whilst simultaneously doing my best not to blow my own head off with my plasma pistol.
Two more flights and I hit the roof, throwing myself against the wall as I holstered my plasma pistol.
Cover up here was far too scarce for it. Instead I reached for the wire-bound scabbard at my hip, drawing the wickedly-curved Eldar blade residing therein.
That, too, has its story, but all you need to know for now is that it was alarmingly potent.

(cont.)

>>50046663
A trio of lifting servitors burst out onto the rooftop, the Magos’ voice echoing through their vox units.
“To run blindly does you no credit, Inquisitor. More virtuous machinations await us, things that would make your Emperor-swaddled mind snap!”
I leapt into them from behind, aiming a spinning kick out that connected solidly with pallid flesh, snapping bone, metal and wiring alike as the servitor’s head clattered away. A low sword strike followed, severing the creature’s torso from its legs.

Another lunged at me from behind, but I spun as I reversed my swing, cutting its pincer-arm before separating its head from its shoulders.
To you, it may seem I am altering facts to suit my own image, however I should point out that these were servitors meant to tend a chemical plant on an agri-world. They were not built for combat.
I was confident in this fact, so much so that I scarcely even felt it when the third servitor’s piercing rod lanced through my shoulder.
I stumbled away, shock numbing me as I reached for my plasma pistol. Before I could so much as work the safety, Leah had darted past me, her shock maul punching a dent in the servitor’s chest the size of its head.

The creature buckled and fell over, but I barely noticed as pain began to seep from my wound.
“Perhaps don’t go for the roof next time, Inquisitor.” Leah said dryly as voices and sporadic gunfire echoed up towards us.
I hadn’t even noticed Tannhauser until he tugged my sleeve and pointed towards the flicker of distant engine flare. The air-strike I had called in had arrived, my ace in the hole.
One of the Valkyries broke formation and veered towards us, banking on its axis as the rear hatch opened.

(cont.)

>>50046682
Leah wasted no time in hustling me onto the Valkyrie while Macharius slung his plasma gun in favour of a hellrifle, unleashing a barrage into the emerging cultists.
For a moment I thought he wouldn’t come, but at the last second he turned and leapt through the hatch as the rest of the Valkyrie formation lit the night sky with fire.
I could actually feel the immense heat wash over my face as we cleared the blast radius, the chemical plant crumbling under the vicious salvo, taking the heretical Magos and his cult with it.

“Emperor’s saggy sack, that looked hairy,” a voice echoed over the vox, “Must’ve been the entire worker force down there just now.”
“Focus on the sky, Tobias.” I replied, hauling myself into a seat and stripping away my shoulder guard to inspect the wound.
“Taking her up, m’lord.” Tobias said. He had been my pilot now for a good few years, young and rather free with his mouth, but he seemed to have a natural knack for mastering almost any aircraft, and that made him invaluable.

“By the way,” Tobias piped up, “The cat wants attention.”
“She can wait.” I said as Leah reached up to retrieve a medkit from the overhead lockers.
“She won’t be happy. Want me to bring some yarn?”
“She’d flush you out of the airlock if she heard you saying that, Toby.”
I forced a chuckle, sitting upright as Leah began swabbing my wound. I knew Tobias’ commentary wouldn’t abate, it was going to be a long flight.

(cont.)

>>50046703
The command deck was in neat order, as per usual. Banks of monitors attended by naval officers and servitors, with alcoves containing the malnourished forms of astropaths. A low murmur accompanied the hum of the ship, and overseeing all from her throne, tail draped over her lap, sat the woman Tobias so brazenly referred to as ‘the Cat’.
She stood, straightened out her tunic and clasped her hands together behind her back. Although she seemed human enough at first glance, there were giveaways. The tail, for one. The constantly-swivelling feline ears for another, and the tufts of fur that decorated the backs of her hands and her forearms.
Piercing amber eyes turned to observe me for a brief moment before she tossed he braided hazel hair over her shoulder and called, “Inquisitor on deck!”

I waved the deck personnel back to business after a brief chorus of salutes was thrown my way, stepping over to the Felinid.
“Captain MacBarain.”
“Inquisitor Bronn,” she replied warmly, “You’ve seen better days.”
“The servitor is worse off, trust me,” I clasped my hands, leaning against the railing before the throne as she came to join me, unplugging bunched wires from the sockets set into her neck as she went, “What do we have?”
“Nothing good,” she said, producing a datapad and handing it over to me, “Crestworld, backwater forest planet, notable for nothing in particular save maybe furniture, but a few days ago somebody made a hole in it.”

(cont.)

>>50046744
“So I see.”
I studied the datapad’s contents in a little more detail. The crater had once been the site of an old farmstead, occupied only by a young woman who had moved there from offworld some years ago, and had lived in silence since. Locals, superstitious by nature, had avoided the place, fearing her a sorceress, and claimed to have seen strange lights in the windows at night.
With the nearest Arbites office being several islands over, any attempt for local authorities to make sense of what happened had failed miserably.

“Interrogator Medara hopped a merchant vessel ahead to get set up, said she’d meet you down there.”
“Lysa’s gone alone?” I asked, struggling to keep the concern from my voice. The Captain nodded, and in that instant my mind was set.
“Charter a course,” I ordered, “Maybe we’ll get lucky and this won’t get blown into something bigger.”
I sighed, consigning myself to a week-long warp-jump of repressed worry.

>>50045456
Moar?

>>50048884
There isn't any more right now. I'm in the midst of writing chapter 2 but it may not be ready for a day or two yet.
Is it fair to say you enjoyed it?

>>50051133
yes

>>50051439
Thanks!
Any criticisms at all?

>>50052161
Different anon here, but I noticed a continuity error. You state at first that the Inquisitor is in power armor, but then you have them pull a plasma pistol out of their sleeve.

I mean, maybe you could have some sort of compartment in the arm guard, but as written now I don't think it works that way...

>>50052636
Ah, yes, I should have elaborated on this.
The character wears robes over his armour. I knew I'd forgotten to mention something, thanks for reminding me!

What he pulled from his sleeve was actually the remote to call in the airstrike, his plasma pistol was in his hand to start with, unless I've made another dreadful mistake.
Thanks for the feedback though!

>>50045456
Bump