Storythread

---- Battle Scars ----


'Lock shields!'

'LOCK SHIELDS!' the cry echoed down the line like thunder rolling across a black-clouded sky.

'Lower spears!'

'LOWER SPEARS!'

Adaxos gripped his spear tight and brought it level. He couldn't see - his helmet had slipped, the man in front of him was too close. He couldn't breathe - clouds of dust kicked up by thousands of nailed boots, men crowding all around him, and a tightness in his chest that felt like a belt tightening around it. He tried to call back the orders, but his mouth was dry and throat was choked up; he didn't know if he shouted proudly with the others or simply mouthed the words.

'Forward!'

'FORWARDS!' It was as if the phalanx was one creature, with one voice, that moved as one vast, monstrous beast.

Step by step, Adaxos was carried along. The formation advanced, under the baking summer sun which Adaxos couldn't see, enveloped in a haze of dust. He still couldn't see the enemy. They could be just ahead of the line and he wouldn't know it. They could be behind him and he wouldn't know it. He tried to shift his helmet with his shoulder, but it wouldn't sit right; it wasn't his, it was the first time he had worn it. He had been given it yesterday, with his breastplate, taken from a cart piled high with second-hand equipment, each piece not quite washed clean of blood. His spear and shield he had held for the first time the week before.

They were heavy. The unfamiliar weight hung on him, dragging him down even as the mass of bodies around him pulled him onwards. He thought that he would drown, in this ocean of men.

'Halt!' Adaxos barely heard the syntarch's order over the thud of marching boots. But the echo from the men around him...

'HALT!'

>>50102405

Adaxos stopped, without even thinking; he couldn't think, couldn't process what was happening. Everything had stopped. Adaxos could see a tiny sliver of the battlefield in front of him. There was nothing, no enemy, just dry, dusty earth sloping gently away from him. For a moment there was no sound of marching feet, no sound of shouted orders. The field was so still that it seemed as if every one of the thousands of men around Adaxos was holding his breath. Except, in the distance, a fast-approaching rumble ...

'Brace!'

'BRACE!'

The formation around him tightened, and Adaxos could only tighten his white-knuckled grip on his spear until his fingers hurt. "Brace" meant they were being charged. Something was coming at them. What was coming at them?

'Riiiiideeeeeers!' someone in front of Adaxos called out in warning. That wasn't the syntarch, Adaxos thought, so he shouldn't be shouting out of turn like that; it was poor discipline. That was one of the few things they had drilled into him. Then his mind caught up to what he was hearing. Riders. Red Riders, it must be. Heading for him.

Adaxos' breathing quickened. Oh merciful gods, Red Riders. Of all the enemy's terrors, they were the worst. Mounted on pyrosaurs, the Red Riders could command their beasts to spit liquid flame upon their luckless foes. Fire that could melt flesh from bone, set cloth and leather ablaze, soften even steel. Whatever remained alive among the charred and burning things that had once been men would fall under the claws and teeth of the charging lizard. The pyrosaurs were not creatures Adaxos could conceive of as belonging to the same world he walked, even if they came from far away lands as foreign and foul as the enemy's home country. They were something out of a nightmare.

>>50102422

Adaxos could see them now; see something at least. There was another dust cloud, out ahead of them. The rolling landscape had kept them from view, but through the tiny gap that Adaxos could actually see through, he could see them. Red Riders. They looked small, far away. They were getting bigger, getting closer, but it didn't seem real to Adaxos. Those couldn't be Red Riders. They couldn't be charging at him.

They were. They were closer. He could see them. Thick, scaly hides that could break a spear-tip. Razor-sharp teeth set in massive, heavy jaws. They came pounding forward towards the phalanx, almost as fast on two legs as a horse was on four. Their forelimbs were only vestigial, stubby wings, but the claws on their powerful hind-legs more than compensated. They would stomp and tear and snap and rend. But only if there was anything left alive among the ashes.

Adaxos' heart was pounding. He had to do something. They were coming straight at him. His breathing was coming in short, staccato bursts. He had to move, but he couldn't. There were too many men all around him, blocking him in. There must be something he could do. A part of his mind knew that he was supposed to stand there, shoulder to shoulder with his comrades, and face what was coming towards them. But a deeper, more visceral part of Adaxos was telling him that he had to move, to act. He had to do something, anything. There must be something he could do, a way that he could make this not be happening.

Closer. Closer. Adaxos watched them come closer. He couldn't see how many, not when his vision was limited to a narrow slit of the world in front of him. But he could hear their war cry now, that saurian roar. A cry of anger, a cry of hunger. There must be so many, so very many, to make that noise. Adaxos almost wanted to scream back at them.

>>50102441

So close. Close enough to see tooth and claw. Close enough even to see yellow slit-eyes. Adaxos wasn't even aware of the rest of the phalanx around him now. He couldn't feel the men beside him, couldn't see the heads of the men in front of him. All he could see was the Red Rider, the one heading straight at him. All he could feel was his heart, hammering away in a chest that felt as if it had been filled with lead. But he could still hear - somewhere far, far away someone shouted:

'Hold fast! For...'

For what, Adaxos never found out - in that moment the charging pyrosaur opened its mouth, and the world became bright. Too bright. Adaxos flinched, looked away, closed his eyes. Someone screamed. Someone close by. Adaxos could smell smoke, feel heat. Someone was still screaming. Adaxos' eyes snapped open. The man standing to the left of him was ablaze, somehow still screaming even though his head - his whole body - was completely consumed by fire, liquid flame dripping off him like wax from a candle. The heat was searing, standing next to a living bonfire just inches away. Then Adaxos realised he wasn't just feeling heat, but pain too. He looked down. His left arm was on fire - glazed in fire that stuck to him like tar. He stared at it, mesmerised in horror - only for a second, but a second that felt like a lifetime.

Then the Red Riders slammed into the phalanx.


* * *

Adaxos woke. He could smell burning. He was hot, and he tried to get up but something was smothering him. He could smell the smoke; on reflex he started coughing. He rolled, fell off the edge of something, and landed heavily on his shoulder. He could smell burning flesh, that sickly taste of cooking muscle and fat at the back of his throat. He struggled, but he was caught under something he couldn't get free of. He was so hot...

>>50102457

Finally, Adaxos managed to free himself. He took a deep breath. Soft sunlight was coming through the window; it was morning. Angrily, he threw the blanket back on the bed. The blanket, and the bedding, were soaked with sweat. He could still smell the scent of seared meat, and it made him gag. He was, unconsciously, holding his left arm; the molten, twisted skin there felt almost scaly. He coughed again, blinking back tears. Kicking the door open he stormed out of the room, into the other side of the little house.

'Ephimei' he roared.

His wife looked up, wide eyed, from the skillet she was holding over the firepit in the middle of the room. 'Honey... you're up. I was just...' Adaxos didn't let her finish.

'What are you doing?!' He practically screamed it.

'I'm cooking you breakfast, I thought you'd...' Ephimei's eyes were wide with fear.

'I TOLD you! I told you not to cook meat while I'm in the house.'

'I know, but you were asleep.' she stammered. 'I thought it'd be nice for you to wake up to a nice warm breakfast. I thought if you were asleep you wouldn't...'

'I TOLD you!

'I know, I know, honey please, I'm sorry...' she flinched as Adaxos' hand snatched out.

He grabbed the iron skillet, and flung it against the wall so hard it knocked some of the plaster off; its impact sounded like the clash of spear on shield. The bacon went flying across the room with it. Adaxos turned away, barged through the door and out of the house, into the back yard.

The cool morning air felt good. He felt like he could breathe properly again. But he still felt sick. He sat down on a tree stump, and put his head in his hands, and closed his eyes. It made him feel less dizzy, but when he closed his eyes all he could see was blood and fire and screaming men. So many screaming men, and he was one of them.

'Honey, are you okay?' He heard Ephimei coming up behind him, but he didn't register her presence. He was in his own, painful, world; trapped there.

>>50102467

Adaxos felt something hit him, on the shoulder, and he jerked violently, lashing out in blind surprise at whatever was attacking him. He swung round, muscles tense, ready for pain, to receive another blow or to deal another out.

All he saw was Ephimei, in the dirt, scrabbling away from him. Mind caught up with body and he realised that what he had felt on his shoulder was only a light touch. The tension in his body drained away; concern and shame flooded in to replace it. He reached out for his wife, to comfort her, but for a moment she continued to shy away from him. Only a small moment, but he saw it and it hit him like a punch to the gut. Then her fear, too, evaporated, and she was just sitting there on the ground. Adaxos was struck by how young she looked, how vulnerable. A teenager, only a little younger than him but still barely more than a child. In fact, the same age he had been when... he didn't bother completing the thought. Instead, he reached down to her.

'I'm sorry, baby.' said Adaxos. 'Are you okay? Did I hurt you?' He pulled her too her feet and held her in his arms.

'No, no, I'm okay honey.' she whispered soothingly. 'You just caught me in the ribs with your elbow, it's nothing.'

'You know I didn't mean...'

'I know, I know.' she said reassuringly. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come up behind you like that. Gave you a fright, didn't I? I should have known better, I'm sorry.' For some reason this just made him feel even worse.

'No, baby, it's not your fault. You know it's not your fault, I just get... you know.' Adaxos didn't have the words to describe it, but he knew she knew. 'It's just... it all comes back to me sometimes.'

'Did you have the dream again?' Ephimei asked.

'Yeah. I had the dream again. Same one, same one as always.'

>>50102493

'It's okay now, honey.' She hugged him, warmly, and although Adaxos didn't feel like he deserved it he hugged her back. 'How about we go get some breakfast, yeah? We don't have to have bacon, we can go and get some nice fresh bread from the baker's, okay?'

'That sounds good, Ephi.' he smiled at her, and was relieved to see her face light up in return, no reservation, no hesitation. Every time this happened he looked into her eyes, searching, because every time came with that gnawing fear, eating away inside him, that one time it would be too much and he would lose her. Yet every time, all he saw was love.

The bakery wasn't far, just along the little dirt track that could have been called a street only by someone who had never lived in a real town. Their village wasn't small - some villages wouldn't even have their own baker, or their own blacksmith or tavern - but it wasn't big either, and it certainly wasn't rich. Adaxos and Ephimei walked along, passing their neighbours' houses, waving greetings at those who were out in their yard picking herbs from their garden or hanging washing. Each neighbour called back a cheerful greeting in turn; it was a lovely, bright, sunny morning, and there was a smile on every face they saw. If any of their neighbours had heard the shouting coming from the young couple's home, they gave no sign of it. Even in a small village some things could remain a secret, if everybody put enough effort into it.

The bakery was on the crossroads - what would have been the town square if it was large enough to be a town. Adaxos could already smell fresh bread before they reached the crossroads, warm and tempting. He smiled, and was about to say something to Ephimei when he caught the scent of something else, something slightly sulphurous.

Ephimei had obviously seen them first, for she said to Adaxos, 'Don't look, honey. Just look at me.' But Adaxos turned his head anyway, knowing what he would see.

>>50102508

The patrol was maybe a dozen infantrymen and two mounted officers. They were by the water trough, and any villagers around were giving them a wide berth. The infantry sat on the grass, sweating in their plated leather, their helmets by their feet, slopping beer down themselves as they shared a skin around. The two riders, in shining scale armour, had kept their red-lacquered helmets on but opened up the expressionless faceplates. They looked bored. They leaned against the fence by the trough, chatting indifferently, watching their mounts drink greedily. One of the pyrosaurs pawed at the earth, scoring ruts in the ground with its claws; its rider ignored it, and it kept drinking

None of them paid any attention to Adaxos or Ephimei, even though Adaxos was looking straight at them. He slowed, and Ephimei almost had to drag him along to keep him moving. Then one of the pyrosaurs raised its head from the stone trough and turned, fixing its yellow slit-pupiled eyes on Adaxos; it grunted, and steam rose from its nostrils. This caught the attention of its rider, and he met Adaxos' eyes. There was no hate there, nor contempt, nor mockery. Just the indifference of a man who is too hot, got up too early, and is too saddlesore to care about someone like Adaxos - and would rather Adaxos didn't force him to take an interest.

>>50102525

'Do you think they'll have any buns left?' said a voice beside Adaxos, and he snapped his head round. Ephimei continued: 'I like the ones with the rosemary. What about you?' She looked pointedly at him.

'I don't mind.' muttered Adaxos. 'Just so long as I'm eating with you.' Ephimei smiled, and he leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek.

As they got to the door of the bakery, Adaxos stole a glance back towards the water trough. The rider had already gone back to his conversation, and the pyrosaur was lapping from the trough. At that moment, Adaxos realised that he was gripping his left arm, feeling the ugly, leathery skin beneath his fingers. It didn't hurt - the seared flesh had long since healed. Adaxos took his hand away and went into the bakery.

Some scars healed better than others.


---- The End ----

>>50101543
I'll ask once more: would anyone mind a Halo short, or is that too /v/? I wrote a piece about the F-F War and it's just kinda sitting around.

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>>50103000
go for it. Trips confirms it.

As a general rule, this thread'll take practically anything so long as it's A) fiction, and B) vaguely related to /tg/ (which basically just means anything sci-fi or fantasy, although I think there is actually a Halo RPG).

pic possibly related, or possibly not.

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>>50103107
The Forerunners kept getting new superweapons while the Flood only got Silentium for an upgrade. I couldn't find any good fanfiction so I filled the gap.

The black, starry space around the planet of Van Ihnor was silent, but not still. Like idle fish in a stream the geometric vessels orbited around the blue sphere, massive sections shifting, war guardians scanning the astral horizons. Beyond them by millions of miles could be seen the metallic dust rings that formed all about this solar system.
On board his dreadnought, Sower-of-Fallow-Skies waited, information buzzing in his headset and among the warriors controlling the deck. The tension of war was thick in the air, and it didn’t help that he was on the verge of dizziness from the slow rotation of his ship, coasting far above the planet’s northern pole so as to maintain a watch on the rest of his fleet. Beyond the unassuming blackness of space lay the forces of the enemy, infesting the remains of their empire in the Burn. Their approach could come from any direction, though, such had proven the Parasite’s surprising grasp of slipspace.
About to go for the controls on his chair—a routine check of systems—he was interrupted by a light flicker of a power surge and the call of his chief operator.
“Steward-Admiral!.” The lieutenant monitoring his readouts hailed him, “Slipspace fluctuation detected at 30 degrees west of current rotational vector.”

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>>50104388
“Very well, servant.” The admiral pulled up a holographic display from his headset, commanding the machine to put him in touch with the greater fleet using just the darting of his eyes. “All captains, match weapon coordinates to the Esotera. If the enemy tries to filter in as many ships as possible through a single slip, unleash directed fire as they come through. Wave tactics will be met with seeker blasts. Stand firm when the hour of battle comes, comrades. Panic is a weapon of the enemy.” He collapsed the display, eyes fixed on the twisting silver rings in the far distance. He remembered visiting the surface of this planet not too long ago. The imperial natives held the astral phenomena in high regard, saying the asteroids and nebulae were sacred. That their intricate dances through the solar gravitational fields reflected the intricate order of the Mantle.
The holograms and lights on the bridge flickered again.
“Another slipspace fluctuation, Steward-Admiral. Still no sign of enemy ships.” His operator updated him.
“Tell me more, there isn’t enough information.” Sower-of-Fallow-Skies snarled, the feathers on his head raising in discomfort. Van Ihnor was chosen to defend not just for its massive population and manufacturing capabilities. The same gravitational anomalies that marked the system as unique also made slipspace travel much more fickle. It had taken solar months to move the defense fleet into position, though with the knowledge that any attack jumps would come in staggered and far easier to slaughter even if they proved to have a numerical advantage.
“We have nothing, Steward-Admiral.” The lieutenant shook his head, “Just fluctuations, no focused electrical signals.”

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>>50104402
“Remain vigilant.” The dreadnought Esotera and its servant fleet stood more still than before, weapons locked on to the broadcasted location of the fluctuations. Sower-of-Fallow-Skies yet again was left in droning silence and cold anticipation, listening to readouts and watching the silver rings.
Rings which had moved much since he’d first taken interest in them.
“Comrade.” He addressed the operator this time, “The astral rings, do they not seem more orderly? Denser?”
“Admiral?”
“Extend scanner range, keep the greater fleet locked on. I want more information on those dust clouds.” They both consulted their holo-displays.
“Gravity wells shifting. Condensing, sir.” The other pilots and systems managers began shuffling in their seats as they were forwarded the information. “They’re getting closer!”
“Prepare weapons!”
“Steward-Admiral, there are no life signs.” He turned in his seat.
Sower put his fist down, “They could be hiding within the mass!”
“Sir, there are no signatures in or beyond the clouds, the Parasite has not arrived yet.”
The Admiral’s eyes watched as the clouds drew closer and closer, coalescing into one long funnel drawing to the very edge of their defense radius. “This does not bode well.” Though he knew firing on what amounted to inert material would do nothing to their benefit.
The lights flickered again, this time going out in their entirety for some three seconds before returning.
“Stewa—”
“Just tell me the readouts, warrior-servant!”
“Massive slipspace reverberations! Electrical systems on the brink! The nebulae—they’re converging on the anomaly, on the gravity sink!”
Massive chatter was coming over the Admiral’s headset, which he dimmed in preparation to give the order to fire.

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>>50104419
The dust clouds kept coming, sinking into one tiny point far from the equator, before filtering back more and more into long cylindrical forms, fragmented and going off as far as they had material to build. The systems flickered one more time before the now motionless silver objects did anything more.
The white flash of a slipspace portal, though sustained like a burning beacon on the perimeter. It expanded, more and more, beyond the mere meters and kilometers of the Forerunner ships. The swirling white ring of proto-matter grew in an unbroken and stable fashion into a gaping black maw, as it grew almost to the size of the very planet they were defending.
“A black hole?!”
“Gravity readings normal, sir—wait…” the lieutenant looked up from his controls, through the viewing window at the phenomenon with the rest of the crew.
Something moved—shifted within the cosmic blackness.
The size of ships, cities—continents—was matched by the appendage. From so far away it looked textureless, just tinted a dark brownish-green, trailing a lime glow of its own atmosphere. The tentacle lashed out from the portal, and with so casual—if colossal—a motion smashed aside two war guardians and three defending vessels, their forms subsumed, but the fires of their wreckage visible on the surface of the arm.
He didn’t need to wait. “Open fire!”
Beams, streams of light, physical missiles, drones—anything that could be fired was sent at the portal. It was already too late. From every depth within the blackness came more of the arms, swatting aside ships and ancilla craft; the gravity of such massive, mobile masses diverting the paths of the very things being fired at them, sending much of the ordinance flying off into space or into harmless glancing shots.

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>>50104445
The monstrous limbs seemed to grow bored, their continental forms shifting past the defending fleet—past so many massive bulwarks of searing light and metal—as if they were just pests. Now from within them, within the slipspace portal, came the hordes. Hundreds of thousands of captured ships to mirror the defenders’ own, dilapidated and caked with necrotic mass as they sped towards their prey, weapons discharging and boarding pods launching.
“Ancillas intercept boarders! Focus all greater fire on the limbs!” the Steward-Admiral yelled into his headset. Already he could see more ships going down, some detonating outright the second they were assailed by the swarms of boarding pods, rather than face direct combat. Far below the Esotera, tentacles made landfall, sending debris flying and tainting the skies with green spores.
Before he could issue more orders, checking for any channel that wasn’t silent or filled with screams familiar or alien, Sower-of-Fallow-Skies held his forehead in agony as the rest of the bridge followed. The throbbing within his brain was accompanied by words that seemed to reverberate through the very fabric of space and time.
>Corpus flies now wheel away, before this, my ceaseless tread.
>Now they know their fated end, among legions of the dead.
More tentacles of various sizes issued forth from the portal, engulfing the sphere of Van Ihnor, crushing its great factories and cities, choking its skies and seas as the appendages, through gravity, muscle, and some greater force drew the very planet itself towards the slipspace portal. The Flood-infected ships, with their erratic pathways, moved among the chaos unharmed in whole, while the once proud defense fleet crumbled in disarray, warships and robots detonating, crashing, or being engulfed in massive eldritch bioforms which may have once been recognizable machines.

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>>50104470
>Hunger drives the very stars, and I’ve keys to every door.
>My grasp is longer and more fleet on roads older than yours.
The Admiral could only watch as the planet was drawn into the portal by the sheer might of the Parasite. Before he could even give a final order, the ship bucked as it was drawn to the gravity well of a lashing tendril, and the Esotera, mightiest dreadnought of the fleet, was shattered like glass. The laugh of the Keymind reverberated not through the empty space, but through the very channels of subspace, along the star roads it would soon conquer in their entirety.

>End

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Posted this in my own thread because of an interval without a Storythread but didn't get too much feedback. I've made some amendments but still wouldn't mind people giving it a glance.

=][=

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.)

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>>50105417
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.)

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>>50105434
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 clad in Ignatus pattern power armour and robes, sweat began to bead on my forehead.

(cont.)

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>>50105448
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, my melta charges lying on the rockrete before him.
“Magos Klyte,” I said, “Several accusations 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.)

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>>50105470
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.)

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>>50105487
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.)

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>>50105500
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 chuckled, sitting upright as Leah began swabbing my wound. I knew Tobias’ commentary wouldn’t abate, it was going to be a long flight.

(cont.)

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>>50105518
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 her 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.”
I had known Jessica MacBarain for a number of years. An abhuman from Carlos McConnell, dint of birth had denied her entry into the Imperial navy. Denied her ambition, she had taken up with a Rogue Trader and proven herself incredibly capable. By the time I came to hire her services she had already taken up with her own crew and ship, the Lady Sovereign.

“The servitor is worse off, trust me,” I laced my hands together, leaning against the railing before the throne as she came to join me, “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.)

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>>50105538
“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.”

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>>50104388
>>50104402
>>50104419
>>50104445
>>50104470
>>50104485
I have never played Halo nor read any of the fluff, so most of this doesn't really mean anything to me, but on a technical level this seems well written enough

>>50101832
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1iSLPvwGZPLk9ARKHd1gH-GKeqMyFthVz6teezs_c9Nc/edit?usp=sharing

This was ALOT of fun to write.

Comments?

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>>50105417
>>50105434
>>50105448
>>50105470
>>50105487
>>50105500
>>50105518
>>50105538
>>50105557

Ok. I liked this, I really did. I think you've got a good sense of character and plot - but I found myself wanting things while I read it.

I wanted the main character to be a little more tense, you know? You showed him nervous a few times, but I never really 'felt' it.

I also wanted some of the lines to be a little more... BAM. Like; you wrote...

"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."

and I was craving something like...

"I leapt into them from behind, spinning with the lunge and throwing my heel into one. I felt the pallid flesh bend under my heel, the bone beneath it cracking, wires ripping free. When I rounded the arc of the kick I saw the Servitor's head clattering away, bouncing off the grate with a hollow, iron rattle."

Like, more sensory stuff. How it felt, how it sounded. Also, more personal. From the outside, he did a spin kick. From the inside, he twisted his body, lost sight of what was happening but felt it, then spun around to see what he'd done. Right?

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>>50111097
>Human soldier's POV

Today's a bit of a slow day. I; Corporal Mark Braz and Private Jonah Bergen were escorting two rich elven aristos; Mr. Theodas Dornan and his fiancee; Ms. Faylen Falen.

Me and Private Bergen are from the Republic of Betrana and both of us are serving our second tour in this elf nation of Flealia. Me and Jonah Bergen are of the 5th Catering Division of the Armed Forces of Betrana, the Catering Division is in charge of providing protection for our allies and lately this elven land is starting become Betrana's newest friend thanks to some political deals and cultural exchange.

Recently the government of Betrana has been giving the elven people of Flealia electrical grids to power their homes, radio complete with a nation wide station dedicated for Flealia and chocolate sweets and treats for the people to indulge in. Though we tired to offer them some of our vehicles the elves said no thanks as they were aware our gasoline powered vehicles had emissions. They rather preferred not to have too many cars giving smoke to their lush green pastures, elves are the type of people who're 'close to nature', that sort of thing but whatever.

And in exchange of all the goodies we provide to help make their lives a bit better, they allow us to make trade with their economy, allow mining corps to drill for precious minerals in their lands and one funny thing is that there so happen to be oil wells located around Flealia that we could even drill out.

Anyways, me and Private Bergen are just escorting these two lovebirds; from what I can tell in their body language, we were going no where really, just talking a walk in these woods with our vehicle parked in a distance. Figures that even powerful, magical and beautiful people such as elves who're also pretty much just like typical rich people love the idea of being surrounded by bodyguards.

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>>50111160
>song playing: www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gC-UsVHtg8

>one of the elves' POV

It was a beautiful day for walk with my lovely Faylen. I remember the day I met her as I was taking a stroll on the Baron's Gardens, she loved taking walks to any place where it was quiet and full of nature. I chose this remote spot of this forest that is about twelve kilometers away from the nearest town and I proposed in building our own private lodge in these woods as our new home when we are to get married.

Though I'm still currently living with my aristocratic parents and can simply inherit my familial manor, I simply chose a much smaller abode just for me, my Faylen and our future children. But for now those plans are for another time as me and Faylen are taking a stroll, by her request aswell.

The security detail accompanying us was necessary considering me and Faylen are of nobility, if not, are simply rich people and there could be brigands or dangerous creatures about who may bear down upon us.

"Theodas my dear, I'm glad you chose such a nice place to build our home and such a nice place for just a nature walk. So lovely of you to consider my Wood Elf heritage. Though are these soldiers necessary to bring along?"

"Oh you? These fine soldiers from the land of Betrana are the new friends of Flealia and as policy goes, they're here to protect us in this trip if anything bad happens."

"But Theodas, you served as a battle-wizard during your time on the serving the City Watch and the Baron's Army during the attacks from the Dark Kin, correct? Surely you alone could repel such dangers since you're such an experienced magick user and a brave man?"

Me and Faylen continued talking in our tongue, very certain those humans did not understood a word me and Faylen have uttered. Their job was to simply escort us till we both feel like we've had enough walking after all.

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>>50108205
Thanks for the feedback!

My main concern was not to get people too bogged down with super-long descriptions. Its a difficult balance to get.

I did wonder about being more sensory, I'll definitely alter those combat descriptions after re-reading.

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>>50108205
>>50114965

I've done some revision in regards to some of the description, especially regarding the combat. I won't post everything here in an effort to avoid spamming the thread, but as an example:

***

I leapt into them from behind, throwing my weight into a spinning kick. Servos reeled and clicked with the impact as my prosthetic heel connected with pallid flesh, simultaneous with the sickening sound of cracking bone and snapped wiring. The servitor’s head clattered away. A low sword strike followed, the alien blade cutting clean through metal and flesh alike with satisfying fluidity, severing torso from legs neatly.

I didn’t so much as see as I did feel the second lunging at me from behind, reflexes honed over many years guided me as I reversed my swing, cutting its pincer-arm before separating its head from its shoulders. Life has never seemed clearer to me as it does in combat, when the world is reduced to component parts and the surgical manner of their disassembly.

>>50111462
All the possessive and precise chatter comes off very awkward, I think. How many times was Faylen referred to as "mine, my, I met her", and so on? Too many is how many. Too much use of "I" throughout. Exchange with phrases such as "I remember the day we met" rather than "I remember the day I met her". Decreases repetition and the awkward personalization.

Things like "Me and Faylen" stand out like a sore thumb (should be Faylen and I).

Use of dialogue is completely non existent. You simply put speech marks around sentences without ever inflecting upon each character having actually 'said' something. Spoke. Chortled. Laughed. Chittered.

The way they stood, walked, held each other. Paint the environment. There are trees we can assume from the woodlands. Describe them, and the birds flitting about atop them.

This is taken as a first person account, but in the present tense, so it cannot be a journal entry or some such. It isn't a recollection what Theodas was thinking during a past event, this is what is happening now, and it is very one sided and without foundations.

You've got the names, the characters, and an idea of how they behave. All you need to do now is use more paint.

Obligatory "keep writing!".

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"Did you know him?"

>>50123624
> "Did you know him?"
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio

>>50111462
>continuing from Theodas Dornan's POV

The lead soldier wearing the dessert colored uniform; Corporal Braz, took a quick glance at Faylen and I, which really didn't bother us since it was just him looking after us. And his partner; Private Bergen looked to me quite worried or anxious, though that mask he wears with his gear and uniform blocked most visible expressions, I could simply tell from how he was looking side by side and back and forth. Then he asked me.

“Mr. Dornan, sir. I hope I don’t bother you and all. But where exactly are we going, if I may ask?”

I answered Private Bergen.

“Well since you asked. We’re just simply taking a stroll here as my fiancée, Faylen, loves the outdoors and nature. She is of Wood Elf heritage you see, and surely you understand how Wood Elves and their relatives revere nature. There’s no need to worry too much, this location is remote and I doubt there’re any bandits or hoodlums lurking about. Sure there’s still the wildlife, but I shouldn’t worry too much.”

Then Private Bergen asked again.

“Well sir. Why did you choose this place in particular? There was already a nature reserve back at the nearest town we came for resting and supplies.”

“Alright soldier, I’ll be honest. Me and ms. Faylen Falen have chosen this particular location for its remoteness and full exposure to nature. Sure I have my familial manor, but Ms Falen here desired for a peaceful and quiet and pristine location far away from the hustle and bustle of the urban area. So we found this place that is not claimed by anyone, yet. So we chose to have our future home built here.”

“Really now mister Dornan? You sure that’s a wise idea? Living out in here in such a remote area? Far away from civilization? What if you get into some trouble, like some large group of trouble makers decide to raid your estate? Assorted wild creatures attacking?"

>to be cont

>>50101874
He walks slowly, each step feeling endless. Even though he is alone, he does not shake the feeling of company. Two times already he had raised his gun at empty corridors and silent courts, half-expecting to meet an alien or thing to kill. He hates this place. If the bot hadn't broken down, if he hadn't drew the short stick, if he...

He curses, grateful that no-one can hear him. In front of him is a face. Once it might have been identifiable, but the growths on its face and time made it difficult. He was sweating now. His hands grip the gun tighter, as if it would keep his fears away. It takes him all of his willpower not to pee on his suit. The suit's legs are the only thing keeping him steady, his legs shake uncontrollably. He turns back, wanting to run back to the nearest base. He nearly does when he sees what is in front of him.

Even in the light they (or it?) are hard to see. Their forms seem to be air and water, shifting and dancing in the pale starlight. It moves halfway like a charmed snake, never standing still yet never moving any further from its position. He cannot be certain. Then like machine, he raises his gun in one motion, not truly thinking. It seems to stop. He fires.

>>50113578
Here I'll post a bit of a short story I've got saved, related vaguely to this sign:

======THE ONTOLOGIST'S FOLLY
Unspecified Date, 2340
Office of Psionic Development
CLASSIFIED DEBRIEFING - EYES ONLY

Any action has an equal but opposite reaction.

This rule is extremely basic, one that dictates the flow of a majority of things that Man has come across. It is in the very basic interests of physics that this rule be followed, that you never do anything without being aware that it may have consequences. However, when direct manipulation of force through one’s mind occurs, as is the case of psionic power, this rule can be forgone and energy can be amplified from electronic impulses in the user’s skull to anything from minor concussive blasts to dilation of local time, this can sometimes be forgotten. So long as a psionic has no ambition, this “forgotten” law can be left as such. What if a psionic become ambitious enough to try something -greater- than that?

It is the Ontologist Council’s job to ensure that such an ambitious act never happened, and ensure it does not happen again.

Technically, they do not exist. The Ontologist Council is simultaneously an error and a fix in the great system that is existence, one that also simultaneously had a birth and did not. A self-correcting paradox, simply put.

To elaborate, you must step into the complex world that is psionics. For psionics, a human’s eyes are not all that the world is. They perceive the world as String Theory describes it, a combination of strings that indicate what all is tied to existence, and what is not. The organ they have, the Psi-Node, allows them to manipulate these strings. Of course, this is merely a cursory explanation, enough to illustrate a minor point. The true description would be like describing a single color to a blind man: far too long an explanation to warrant going through with.

-CONT-

>>50132341
The point of this discourse, however, is to explain the top-secret, eyes-only classified nature of this Council. We need to step out of causality for a moment, and explain that time does flow in one direction, and that it is forward. It is not so much an absolute thing as much as a force: time passes and things move about. The nature of measuring it is a human concept. Its existence is not.

The Ontologist Council began, in their timeline, as a project to explore the most powerful form of psionics ever devised: Applied Ontology.

Now, ontology as it stands is the subset of metaphysics that deals with what encompasses the state of “being.” In layman’s terms, the arguments about whether or not something exists, and how to classify the “state” of existence. Many philosophers have argued about this and gone blue in the face about it, but what the Council discovered was that it was a state of being that can be pretty easy to switch on and off. Imagine existence as a switchboard, where you can turn a current of electricity one way or another. It was theorized that, if enough psionics grouped together, they could directly manipulate this motherboard and change fixed points in time to undo an entity’s existence. It was purely a thought experiment, until the ECMF heard that the Black Scribes were performing potentially illegal psionics research.

Yes, the ECMF and Black Scribes have, since the end of the Plague War, come to an agreement to share such critical research and cooperate as needed. However, according to the Council this was not viable for their native timeline. They were given a collection of dossiers, and were to choose the one that, if they never existed, would have virtually zero impact on the Confederacy as a whole. “Virtual” impact was gauged as whether or not the benefits outweighed the consequences, specifically to the ECMF. This became an issue of debate among the Council, at the time only known as “Research Team 87.”

>>50132374
After a few weeks of rigorous debate, the target was decided.

Enter the impotent dictator, Samson J. Strider, who was as effective a dictator as he was a fertile adult male. Considering he had only one child born from a test tube and numerous attempts of such a conception, that is to say he acquired his status as “dictator” through sheer dumb luck. His tactics were laughable, his attempts at terrorizing his foes amounting to nuclear missile launches into defense arrays more than capable of handling the attacks. The analogy was made of him, by the Council, that he was a monkey with an assault rifle that was not loaded. If you gave him a bullet, he could do some harm, but that was assuming he figured that shooting at the man behind bullet-proof barriers was a waste of time.

The Council decided, after extensive research, that there was no adverse effects to his existence. Nothing of any major importance happened because of him, and nothing particularly noteworthy caused his existence to occur. Simply erasing him from existence, while a cruel act, would have no notable impact on reality beyond a sector of space having a different leader, or potentially becoming an ECMF territory. The Council took their dossiers, and a single ship, into a section of space independent of a solar system and began their work.

Describing this work is the word “ritual,” and to many that is a bit far-fetched. However, the reader must be made aware that psionics can amplify their power by joining minds and unifying to a single purpose. This is a delicate procedure, one that requires more finesse the more ambitious the end-goal. In the matter of simply undoing someone’s very existence on such a level that not even the slightest possibility of them ever existing could be fathomed, there are few loftier goals to achieve. Twelve psionics of average power gathered, and twelve returned.

Upon their arrival there was a great change, one that only a god could have seen coming.

>>50132393
The folly of the Ontologist Council was in not calculating the fact that only one man was ever killed by Strider, and that this kill was wrought during a completely unrelated civil war on a home planet shared by Strider and a certain man by the name of Desmond Morganti. Desmond Morganti was aged twenty-nine when he was shot fatally in the head by Strider, and nothing of note came from this kill that made it ring out on any of the research done by the Council.
Desmond Morganti, in our timeline, is now aged forty-three and controls the fascist regime known as “The People’s Free State,” and is actively pursuing ways to pressure ECMF-defended space.

When he was not killed by the now-nonexistent Strider, he rose through the ranks of that planet’s government and became a leader in a psionics research team ran by a group known as “The True Republic.” This “Republic” was a militant rebel faction, determined to press the ECMF into ruling the galaxy once more through weakening all of its opponents and forcing them to swear fealty. A particular project was in the creation of artificially-made psionics. That is, a psionic that was not born that way. The notion was absurd, and received no funding, but Desmond Morganti was ambitious. He became the lab rat for his own experiments, and when he was given the Psi-Node of a dying Grade Delta, he saw the strings of existence. He also felt things that were never touched before, and will never be again.

When a user reformats a data storage device, especially older models, a portion of data-storage is forever occupied by the remnants of data. You will go from three terabytes to two-point-nine terabytes, and never again be able to store data to the advertised limit. In the view of time as a psionic, there is a “color” to things. Desmond Morganti saw that everything he touched with his psionics took on a different color, and that his very soul was that same color.

>>50132425
He then ignored this, and used his ambition and fiery zeal to conquer colonies and force them to swear allegiance to his name. In comparison to that of Strider, Morganti had doubled the effective control of space. Simply put, for every one solar system Strider owned, Morganti held two.

The Ontologists returned to Earth and reported the deed done. They asked what had happened in their absence, to be met with puzzled looks from all around them to the nature of this “Samson Strider.” The ECMF Office of Psionics Development pointed to the map carved out by the People’s Free State, and the Ontologists were only able to panic. The negation of Samson Strider had no ill-effects, so they thought.

But, as this man declared war on the ECMF and specifically requested the Ontologists by individual names as prisoners, there was sheer bewilderment. The Black Scribes were informed of this, to which they only responded with acknowledgement of a problem. They sent an extensive report on Morganti’s existence, entailing his rise to power, his use of psionics, and the fact that they had sent several raids into State territory with the intent of killing this man with the same methods the Research Team used to accidentally create him. They reported that he was immune to such effects, and that he was aware of his immunity. Simply put, Desmond Morganti was a glitch in existence that had become self-aware, and was going to push his permanence as far as causality would let him.

The twelve psionics exiled themselves from known space, and have since become the Ontologist Council. They operate in secret, perfecting their art and using it judiciously against those who would think themselves greater than the laws of reality.

If man were inherently guilty of any sin, it is in the nature of thinking itself greater than the world it lives in.

(One last post)

>>50132449
“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction,” Desmond Morganti announced to a crowd of eager soldiers, “And unless you are particularly ambitious, you can ignore that. If you are that ambitious but do not heed that law? You create me.”

====FIN

It was vaguely related to the reality sign, figured I'd throw it up there. It was inspired vaguely by the idea of "applied ontology" as it's depicted in Destiny, where a race of aliens use time-travel bullshit to erase people from existence. Not quite "go to your grandpa and shoot him when he's four" erasure, but simply altering the timeline so that reality never convenes in the way it needs to make you an active part of the 'alpha timeline.' Remnants of you may exist (and some people may have vague memories of something like you existing once akin to imaginary friends), but the greater whole of reality does not register you.

I ran with it, and it helped me explain the origin of one of my setting's major factions.

>>50119720
Thanks for the feed back, this is my first time writing a "POV style" type of writing. But I will include more dialogue between characters soon.

Just thinking what other parts or whats the next action gonna be. Good to know someone reads my stuff atleast.

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>>50133629

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>>50134410

>>50101543

Have you ever thought about starting up a blog a la Weird Tales?

>>50106997

"Orkwo! You take that silly mask off. You must be sweating in that thing!"

"Mothur, this mask is the symbol of my god."

"Orkwo! You cant just go makin up gods. You will anger the ones we already have."

"Mothur, my god is real. He gave me the strength to slay a lion and I wear it and this mask to honor him."

"Very well, Orkwo. I see these things are important to you. Would you like some watah?"

"Yes I would."

>>50130229

"Why would a man surround himself with beautiful women but wear armor so they cannot touch him?"

"A coward, father. This place has many cruelties not like our own country."

>>50101543
The snow slowly drifted with the cold, but gentle air. Winter had come earlier than most expected, yet those same agreed that summer had lasted too long. Many blamed it on global warming, though now that winter was here, it only reminded them of how much they hated the cold, no matter how gentle the white breeze felt.

At first, of course, there was that familiar sense of wonder. Everything looked so sparkling white, pure and innocent. However, when the roads became busy with snow plowers, the pavements drizzled with salt, and the white itself brown and black with sooth and industry, the wonder was lost. In modern society's need to pump out goods and services to feed the hungry, the poor, the workers, and above all else, the excuberant needs of the rich, there was precious little room for admiring nature.

It wasn't until the seasons simply seized to exist, that snow had not fallen for years anywhere in the civilized world, when people really started noticing. Everything had become homgeneous, globalized, brown, black, grey, yellow, so arid, dry, and some of those old fisherman huts were beneath water. What happened? they asked, on their blogs and social media; but nobody answered. They were too busy on their own phones, checking the global markets, checking their social status, so integrated into the machinations of modern society that nothing needed more than a glance to judge fully. At least we can ERP in VR, someone said, finally. And that was that.

>>50107615
yep, pretty good. You took a good concept and went in the right direction with it. Good ending too.

While you generally handled the setting well, there are one or two things that tickled my Romanaboo autism. The title seems a bit wonky given that SPQR means the Senate And the People of Rome. And Phoenicia was never part of Judea.

As for the prose, it was generally good but I think you went a little too far in places. e.g.
>He smiled, and in so doing revealed the demon of his character.
It's... just a little to much, too on the nose; simply dial it back a sliver and it'd be fine.

>>50132341
well written, and genuinely interesting. The concept may not be entirely original (Star Trek Voyager's Year of Hell episodes spring to mind, largely because for some reason I was reading the wikipedia page on them a few days ago), but you do it well so why not. Good work.

>>50130229
>And on the 7th day, god rested.

>>50102405
come on, doesn't anyone have anything to say about this? I even managed to get it finished for the start of the thread, and under ten posts long. What does a guy have to do to get some feedback around here?

incidentally, if Falsor_Wing is around anywhere don't think I've forgotten that you promised to give me feedback on
https://1d4chan.org/images/5/53/PathOfFlowers.png
I would literally take "it's so bad I couldn't read more than two posts of it", just give me something and I'll hold your oath fulfilled.

>>50123624

I did know him, the last son of Edward the First of wanted to say.

As a craftsman. As a casual acquaintance. A blacksmith in London, but far more wily than any should be.

As a mentor. As family. The shoulder to cry into when noone else would offer.

As a traitor. As an assassin, an usurper. The throne of Britain, delivered onto him by poison, force and trickery. And himself a willing collaborator! Had he hated his father that much?

As an innovator. As a conqueror. The whole of France! Who else would have dared? With the swinging beams on towers, as much as by might.

As a madman, a fool lost in visions of glory. The forests of yew chopped away, the crops left to rot in the fields. The cream of England, rotting carcasses in the sands of the Middle East.

As a desperate escapee. Ousted from London by the last of the knights, cornered against the Normandy Channel.

As a madman gone sane. Begging for forgiveness, his last words before the final sleep.

"...No. No, I did not know him."

Some things were better left buried, with the man who had birthed them.

(...I admit to knowing fuckall about Medieval era Britain other than the Magna Carta, so this is strictly fiction with English names glued on, as opposed to alt-history.)

(Comments?)

>>50140499
Poetic, but perhaps a touch beyond my comprehension. Is he talking about a bunch of figures, represented by the one dying, or is each descriptor for the same man?

>>50140549
Same guy, different times.

The swinging beams on towers are semaphore towers, two centuries ahead of their time. Make of that what you will.

>>50126540
>cont

"I'm no mere cushy or sheltered aristocrat. I did serve as a battlemage for the Baron's forces fir a decade, so I have experience with dealing with any 'trouble' that Faylen and I would encounter."

“I see… Well I do hope this place you and yer girlfriend chose is good enough.”

As we continued our stroll Faylen and I simply took in the breeze, the sounds of the forest, and the rustling sounds of the leaves and the sounds of the singing birds. Faylen then asked me, speaking in our elvish tongue.

“Dear, did you have to really tell about our dream home? Why do they care?”

“Now, now dear Faylen. These humans are our friends and our races have benefited from both each other. Besides he did ask why we’re here and I figured a little bit of honesty can help with relations between our two people. Plus these two men of the Betrana Armed Forces are protecting us in our journey, so I take we can repay them by answering his question with honesty.”

I now aslo spoke up to Corporal Braz in the common tongue, who was still in the lead of us. “You know Corporal once the construction of my new home in this part of this forest starts and is completed, I could request your commanders and or superiors to have you assigned as a guardsman in it. It’ll be a fine yet still luxurious abode, and I’m certain you and your comrade wouldn't get bored.”

“That’s a nice offer Mr. Dornan but I’m afraid that won’t happen for me and my colleague, we don’t work that way. We’re soldiers of the armed forces of the Republic of Betrana and I’ve also got a family back at my homeland. Though MAYBE I could probably visit? Especially if you throw a significant event in your place perhaps? If you must have security for your new private home out here, hire some private military contractors or mercenaries to the job.”

>to be cont

>>50139173
Thank you! I'll have to look into those episodes.

>>50130229
Cursed armour of nubile summoning:
So long as it is worn in its entirety the magic of the suit will summon a half dozen fully physical manifestations of the wearers ideal sexual partners. These summoned beings will proceeded to dote upon the wearer and try and coax them to carnal acts. However should even a single piece of the full body armour be removed the summoned beings will instantly vanish leaving their promises of ecstasy forever unfulfilled.

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>>50105557
Chapter 2 is underway. Thought I'd post the first part for feedback. The series has a name now: The Cormyr Archives. If nobody has read the prologue yet, it might help give some insight into the character of Lysa as she develops.
https://1d4chan.org/images/b/b4/BornOfChaos.png

Anyway, without further ado, Chapter 2, part 1:

=][=

The tent flaps billowed outwards as I stepped inside, my breath fogging before my face in the dim early-morning light. The chatter of local fowl reached my ears, a hauntingly beautiful melody which, if I closed my eyes, I might imagine belonged on a paradise world or in a garden dome.
“No civilians, ma’am. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”
I spun on my heel, coming face to face with the stout Guardsman who’d been stood outside. Funny, I could have sworn I’d at least flashed the rosette.

I shook my head a little and produced it again, holding it needlessly close to his nose just in case.
“Interrogator Lysa Medara, Inquisition.”
“Apologies, ma’am.” The guardsman stammered, stepping out hurriedly. I allowed myself a discreet smile, maybe it was just the cold that made his cheeks ruddy, but I preferred to think it was embarrassment.

I took a moment to survey the tent’s interior.
Guardsmen milled about, murmuring with each other in low voices, sipping caff or checking their weapons, each and every one of them looking rather grim.
I nestled my chin a little further into the heavy, white fur collar of my cloak, eager to keep the biting cold out. Even in the tent, with heating units blasting warm air at full capacity, it wasn’t easy to escape the morning frost.
A guardsman approached me shortly, his uniform decked in silver threading and numerous medals. He threw a smart salute and remained at attention. The smug confidence with which I had set foot on-planet melted away as I debated how the Inquisitor might handle this.

(cont.)

>>50148342
“Uh…at-ease.” I managed after a moment, sweeping black hair back from my eye as I cleared my throat. No matter how I tied it, it always seemed to get in my eyes.
“Lady Interrogator, ma’am,” he spoke with a rough, low-hive accent, “Welcome to Crestworld. Would’ve thrown you something more grandiose, but the Arbiters and we are a bit stuck in all this shit. Name’s Major Quinn Hardy.”
He tossed his name in almost as an afterthought, flashing me a tired smile.
“Major,” I extended my hand, pale in the frigid air, “I hope my arrival hasn’t caused too much of a commotion?”

“Not at all, ma’am,” he said, taking my hand and giving it a firmer shake than I would have preferred, “Bloody short notice though. Need to get you set up with a liaison, assuming I can find the bastard.”
He stepped past me through the tent flaps, bidding me follow as I nursed my poor hand. I followed at a distance, savouring the lingering stares I got from the sporadic Guardsmen and Arbiters we passed.
A gentle breeze graced my cheeks, instantly infusing them with crimson. Frost crunched underfoot as we made our way over to a nearby fire, surrounded by fold-out seats and windswept Guardsmen.
“Kiasan,” the Major clicked his fingers, pointing to a disgruntled Guardsman with a short crop of light brown hair and handsome, if grim-set features, “You’re on liaison, cater to the Interrogator’s every whim, lick her damn boots if its asked, just make us look good.”

(cont.)

>>50148366
A chorus of jeers were raised from the other guardsmen as the man called Kiasan set his caff aside and rose, shrugging off his cloak to reveal the stripes of a Lieutenant.
“This way please, ma’am.” He said through clenched teeth as he led me away from the camp. He seemed to ease up a little after we’d covered some distance, descending into a copse of long-limbed trees with boughs swaying overhead.
“Has the Major filled you in?” he asked after some time.
“Not entirely,” I said, “I understand there’s a crater of some description? Presumably from something crashing to earth.”

“Wish it were so simple, Interrogator.”
We skirted around a thicket of brambles and pushed through a patch of low-hanging firs, before I came face to face with the site of the crater.
“Two-hundred yards, one side to another, almost perfectly circular, no wreckage within the site.”
I nodded, ducking under the cordon that had been established around the site. There was no hint of scorched earth around the crater nor did any such odour assault my nostrils, the air was crisp and scentless, though there was something…an unnatural jitter of psychic activity that sat like an itch at the back of my mind.

I closed my eyes, extending my mind instead, my consciousness spreading like a blanket over the surrounding area. There was something here, a faint, fuzzed afterthought, an imprint left on the world by some courtesy of the warp, invisible to those who did not have the gift to see.
A shudder ran down my spine as I realized just how fragile the veil of reality truly was here.
I retreated back into myself, rubbing my eyes.
I quickly became aware of Kiasan watching me cautiously, as if he were dealing with some rabid animal that might snap at him any second. He was afraid of me now, his mind made it plain to see. I extended myself once again, to nudge his mind, to offer some comfort, but he retreated into himself.

(cont.)

>>50148388
“Psychic imprint.” I told him matter-of-factly, “The warp was…here, for a few seconds, maybe less.”
“Is that what happened?” he asked.
I nodded, pointing towards the trees surrounding the crater. They were bent outwards, petrified, as if frozen in time with their mighty trunks horribly twisted.
“Only ever saw something of that ilk once before,” Kiasan said, “During the Mechanicum uprisings. The cults used psykers as suicide bombers, sent them into the Space Ports, the hospitals, cathedrals. Little left beside melted iron and stone, but to make a crater…”
He trailed off, and I couldn’t help but agree. Whatever had happened, it had required a great deal of warp energy, and the prospects were frightening.

=][=

Part 2 of the chapter will be about possibly in a few days. In the meantime, could I get some feedback? Also wondering if I ought to make a blog for ease of access so people can read this stuff easily after the threads reach bump.

I just finished 008's Terran DnD adventure, slew that dragon over the last couple days and now I need more similar stuffs to read, pls

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A thing I found while hiking in Alaska.

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>>50101543
DAMN YOU, JOB. YOU MAKE ME MISS MY FAVORITE THREAD

Bump with image

>>50142489
"A thousand years... A thousand years my dick has gone without the succ. You think you know pain? You have not even scratched the surface of agony, boy."

>>50150021
What am I meant to be looking at here?

>>50150586
Looks like a tree stump with a tiny door on it.

>>50150021
>>50150041
absolutely dank

>>50142091
We could have never expected it. The French had finally won, after all these years. Their might and invention had reached beyond ours, a level akin to those of gods. While thinking ourselves immortal, untouchable, hidden in the country side, their armada advanced across the lands.

"It's gaining on us, Johnny! Pedal to the metal, for fuck's sake!"

The pedal was on the metal, but the old shitty Volkswagen Beetle, 1950's, could barely break into a healthy jog's speed. The treads on the gigantic deathship trampled everything beneath them. The exhaust pipes spewing vile, black smog into the sky as it's dozen engines roared a diabolical chorus of carnage. 24 300mm cannons primed to burn the entire countryside, dozens of 27mm machines guns with armor piercing uranium rounds and anti personel rounds always ready to shred any small target were it to come within a hundred meters from it.

"Oh God, Johnny, the guns are being aimed at us, the fucking things are aimed at us! Go faster for the love of God!"

However, the French didn't into account one thing.

"Johnny, please, do something!"

That this slow moving fortress of death....

"Johnny, I can hear the cannons firing, oh God, we're going to die!"

....that is painted white against a pure green backgrounds....

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!"

....can be seen and heard half across the country by the air forces and artillery.

Eventually the French lost the war due to a combination of national debt going through the roof due to over production on the landships and having lost every single one of those landships to pinpoint artillery fire and bombings.

In hindsight I might've over reacted.

>>50149448
Could you elaborate a little for those of us who haven't read 008's Terran DnD adventure? What is it, and what features did you like about it that you want more of?

>>50141191
>cont

“Oh of course. But you may visit some other time as friends. You and Private Bergen have served well as assigned bodyguards for me and miss Faylen Falen here.”

“Thank you mister Dornan. It’s a pleasure.”

I looked back at our friend Private Bergen; he still looked like he was on edge.

“Private, may I ask you now. Why do you still look so anxious?” Then his comrade, Corporal Braz. joined in the conversation.

“You know. He’s right, you look like you’re nervous about something by the way you keep glancing around back and forth. What’s going on, something troubling you private?”

Corporal Braz questioned his colleague as we still continued walking. “Well, it’s just that. I’ve got a gut feeling we’re not supposed to be here. I know sounds clichéd, but I’ve got this itching feeling something, someone, or some people are eyeing us… I don’t really know, but something about being in this type of remote area just feels off.”

“Well that’s what we’re here for Private Bergen. We’re trained professionals who’re capable of dealing with any threats that may come along the way, besides. We’ve got guns for whatever bandit-bastard with a pointy sword that’s dumb enough to try mugging us, and Mr. Dornan here was a combat wizard himself before, so we’re all prepared. Now please ease down a bit Private, you’re starting to make me tense as well.”

>Faylen Falen’s (the elf woman) POV

I just wanted this day to be just with me and Theodas, I absolutely loved that he really wanted to have our home for ourselves be built in such a place as it does remind me of the forest I once grew up as a child till I moved to the cities. This was supposed to be just a peaceful stroll through the place where our home is to be built, but my Theo said its mandatory for these human soldiers to accompany us for our security’s sake. I insisted we just go ourselves but alas its best I left such matters for him to worry.

>TBC

>>50162486
Necromanctic performance art never took off for some reason.

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>>50166128
I don't know about that. The less artsy stuff is more popular

>>50142489
might i suggest renaming it "the armor of tantalis" or however you spell that Greek name. unless of course you're trying to slide the reference in under the readers nose.

>>50169425
Torment of Tantalus? I doubt any reader who's heard the name in passing would miss the name even misspelled. Do it regardless, though.

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>>50142880
Lemme give it a shot; my setting is having a Titanfall-esque scenario develop as I write so why not?

=======THE HEISTERS

CLASSIFIED: EYES ONLY
ATTN: REPUBLIC ADMIRALTY BOARD

Artificial Intelligence, as a whole across the Confederacy, has always been notably more liberated than anyone had ever intended. There are no laws restricting them, but they are never to hold political power or franchise in a majority of places across the Confederacy. Movements have existed, a few Outer Colonies have them reside in "AI colonies" which are giant server farms that serve as virtual havens, but largely they are content to work in servitude.

Criminal elements have, due to a lack of staffing for crucial live-combat roles, staffed powered exoskeletons with remote-piloting Smart AI. This is not a new practice, and will remain for much longer. However, the events in the Emerson Casino on the recently-acquired Republic world of Dominion have drastically changed the course of history in the discussion on AI-rights. Effectively, a group of unidentified criminals brought forth an android. Androids had been given a drastically negative stigma, after a series of incidents in New Czech IV where one android annihilated a convicted pedophile's estate prior to his being convicted. This was counteracted by it being made Sheriff of the colony, but the stigma was inflicted by a heavy lobbying move in the Republic. Not quite made criminal, but all production was ceased and most companies were drastically depleted of their contracts.

In a daring, unprecedented raid, three groups of Heisters (a previously inconsequential group of pirates, see attachment: Heisters) hit the colony of Dominion at once. Two were thwarted (See: Cell H-12 Debriefing), but the third was something one expects to see in movies. The android mentioned (ATT: BREAKER-77), joined the crew prior to the heist itself and played a crucial role in its roaring success.

(CONT)

>>50170594

After being "arrested" for illegal operation of a potentially card-counting artificial intelligence, Breaker-77 was moved to a special section of an interior vault. Within this vault, almost expertly placed (ATT: Matryoshka Involvement in Dominion Heists), was a powered exoskeleton used to move about large sums of MATERIAL E-01, Economium. The raw crystal was too large to move with drone, so a powered suit was used by Bankers assigned to the region. The AI promptly yanked its chip, using a subroutine of its "shell" to plug into the exoskeleton. The exoskeleton then roared to life, and well. Let's just say there are trillions of credits in damages to the incident that led to the vault opening.

The Heist went on without much further hitch, until Republic Drop Troopers landed. These soldiers are highly trained, wearing armor second only to BELLATOR Assault Armor and its bleeding-edge Cyclonic Shield system. The powered exoskeleton piloted by Breaker-77 immediately snatched one of the criminals, plopped him into its pilot seat, and the pair proceeded to make a complete joke of the eight Drop Troopers. While under fire, this AI-Human cooperative effort was able to move sixteen trillion credits worth of valuables from the surface of Dominion to an evac-ship stationed in low-orbit. If it takes the Admiralty Board a moment to fully comprehend that amount of money moving hands while under fire, psychologists have told me it is entirely normal. Such an amount is only held in places like Dominion, which are seats of unfathomable wealth. The focus, however, should be on the AI-Human union.

This incident has caused an uproar in the R&D departments of the entire Confederacy, with screams of abject terror as previously unheard of manipulation of technologies are being combined. What was previously considered taboo for nigh-religious reasons has now been pressed into full research by firms that appear to have anti-Republic interests.

(CONT)

>>50159070
>contiuing from Faylen Falen's POV

Those two humans continued talking to one another as Theodas and I just indulged in the sight of this forest, its sounds and vibrant colors complete with the singing of the birds. That Private Bergen is still insisting something is "stalking us."

"I should just say we be on alert. This is a remote area that could have potential hostilities."

"I told you Private, we're ready for such a thing that may or may not happen, and we have our guns."

I sometimes groan to myself at the sight of these humans who're just trying to hard. But just as I was about to express my thoughts vocally, I heard something that was amiss as I let go of my Theo and looked around. He obviously asked what was the matter.

"Faylen dear, is something troubling you?" He asked as I answered back.

"No... But for a moment I heard something that was amiss..."

What I heard was odd amounts of rustling in the leaves and skittering coming from the trees. One might think it is the small wood land creatures such as squirrels, but I the way those movements sound were not of small woodland creatures. As part Wood Elf I'am born of heightened perception that is much greater than that of a human's or even a High Elf such as dear Theo... Perhaps Private Bergen did have the right to be concerned about this place.

Even if this place has a luscious atmosphere and has been chosen by Theo for our new home location, it still hides dangers.

"Theo my dear, perhaps we must be extra careful and I think Private Bergen's slight paranoia may be somewhat justified. I sense and hear something stalking us all of a sudden. Something like this 'Gut Feeling' those humans say." I told Theo.

"Are you sure my love? ...Fear not for you are with me and trained professionals." He said as he held a firm grip to his blade. It made me feel safer and confident that my dear Theo knows how to fend for himself and me, and also that we are atleast accompanied two reliable soldiers.

>TBC

>>50171166
>continuing from Faylen Falen's POV

As I see Theo holding the hilt of his blade firmly I heard it again, the fast rustling sounds of the leaves and and the skittering in the woods. I can tell this was the work of sapient beings and not mere woodland critters.

"Wait, stop." I told everyone in the common tongue. Theodas heeded my call and so did the soldiers.

"What is it Faylen dear?"

"What's the matter? Is something wrong Miss Falen?"

I then told them; "It seems Private Bergen is right about something being amiss. Something else that isn't us may be lurking in these woods."

"Wait, you actually believe me?" The Private Bergen asked perplexed.

"Yes Private, it appears you're 'gut feeling' assumption is correct about something being here- Wait! Everyone be quiet for a moment."

"Faylen, what-"

"Shhh, silence Theodas."

I told everyone, including Theo to be quiet as I swore I could've heard some chatter in a different tongue coming from somewhere. As part Wood Elf my naturally born heightened perception and more attuned ears allowed me to trace even the faintest of sounds from further distances.

"Everyone, please tread carefully. And follow me... Theodas, soldiers, please cover me."

"...Faylen, you're normally a very relaxed and or laid back person. And seeing you like this isn't your usual thing. Do not worry, we have your back. I have your back."

That assurance from Theodas gave me the confidence to find out what were those sounds I was hearing that may have also been giving Private Bergen the creeps. As I led everyone to tread carefully while also finding the source of the sounds I was picking up, Corporal Braz quietly asked me.

"Miss Falen, if you believe Private Bergen's suspicions are legitimate and that there is something troubling in this area I can call for back up. Or better yet we can all get out of here and back to civilization."

Then Theodas also chimed in. "Perhaps the Corporal is right Faylen. We should head back to safety."

>TBC

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pic is a imperial guardsman and a commissar cleaning a 21st century main battle tank, Leopard 2A7 in case someone's gonna make a story for this pic.

>>50170849
Previously, such an idea was nigh-religious taboo for the role of powered armor in the Promethean myths of Mankind's climb out of nuclear winter on Earth. Artificial Intelligence only improved functionality on these suits previously, taking care of processing speed by handling the load of most suit calculations. This would allow more resources to devote to the suit's basic functions, while the AI could oversee tactical data and handle targeting information passively.

An active AI in the suit allows the AI to make reactions the operator could not otherwise make, and it is extremely dangerous to allow such a level of control to an artificial intelligence. Currently, protocols and laws are in place to prevent a single AI from amassing a level of control that could end the lives of thousands of people. However, with the increased effectiveness posed by this union of man and AI, the Republic of Terra is urged by several military theory experts to investigate applications of Artificial Intelligence in powered combat exoskeletons on live deployments.

Attached will be several projections of operational effectiveness increases from this upgrade, and multiple grants for the inclusion of such systems in Drop Trooper armor systems, and potentially even an augmentation to the BELLATOR program.

As more and more criminal elements begin to outpace Republic technology with innovations such as this, it is of the utmost importance that maneuvers be made to secure a solid footing in the growing arms race. Especially with the worrying news of what's happening on our frontier colonies? We can't risk the Republic of Terra making a lackluster showing to any potentially... "Foreign" interests among the stars.

SIGNED: INTELLIGENCE OFFICER [REDACTED]
CLASSIFIED: EYES ONLY
========

I'll probably run this over with some editing mindset later, but the raw idea I posted here before I lost the muse. Thoughts?

>>50170594
>>50170849
>>50173503
I don't know. I don't think the ideas are bad, but reading through it it doesn't flow very well. A little too wordy, a little too technical.

Just a first impression; make of it what you will.

>>50174523
Yea, I'm reading it over with the realization one would have to be more knowledgeable of the overall setting for this to make much sense. It's meant to be that way, but I could tweak it some for sure. Thanks for the feedback!

Not to bother anyone but I really would appreciate some feedback so I know if anything needs improving or not. I'm unsure if the pacing is too slow during this particular segment or not. >>50148425

>>50175552
it's okay. Just keep doing what you're doing although personally I think the catgirl was a mistake

>>50176605
Thanks. I'm going to stick with the felinid, but I've no intention of making her too cliche or anything like that. I can definitely understand where your concern is coming from, though.

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So, I guess now that the election is over people will go back to writing stories. Things are going to go completely back to normal.

...right?

>>50186304
New Macha should no longer be a virgin.

>>50174517
"I am the greatest thief in space." He stared into the mirror and said it again. "I am, the greatest, thief, in space." Reassured he tried once more. "I am definitely the greatest thief in space.
Sogurd was very proud of this fact but found he had to remind himself about it quite often. He was the greatest thief in space. However there wasn't really anything to steal. This had not done his self confidence any good.

A thousand years ago, there had been plenty to steal. The Mona Lisa was traditional. Sogurd had three. He decided thought hard about a cup of coffee. One materialised on the desk in front of him. The desk was the same desk that had sat in the Oval Office on old earth. Or it might have been. In galaxy where perfect matter replication existed, there was no way to tell.

>>50191288
This had created a slight issue in Sogurds chosen vocation. He was adamantly sure that he was an excellent thief. A cat burglar extraordinaire in fact, but if diamonds could be thought into being, and no one could be sure which statue of David was the real one, what was the point?

He had thought about stealing hearts, but that seemed altogether like cheating, and besides he wasn't all that interested in women or surgery.

He'd tried stealing the mundane, but taking a vase from a neighbour who could instantly replace it with a thought also rather took the fun out of it. He didn't want to be Sogurd the Mild Inconveniencer. Of course in a society where scarcity didn't exist, he might not have ever even really stolen anything.

This thought really kept him up at night.

>>50171951
>continuing from Faylen Falen's POV

I answered back. "...I want to know what exactly is it that me and even Private Bergen are sensing... I'm hearing some chatter this way, follow me and tread carefully."

As I led everyone to where I believed the source of the chatter I was hearing, I felt my dear Theodas' hand on my shoulder as I quickly glanced back to him as he gave me a look of concern and a nod.

As we moved closer to where the chatter I could hear was coming from and the close we were all getting to the source. The more of that constant chatter was getting clearer.

"Faylen I think I'm starting to hear whatever is it you're hearing... It actually sounds familiar, the sniveling and guttural sounds. I have bad feeling its those type of people."

"I hope its not Theo..."

>Corporal Mark Braz's POV

I still was doubting Miss Faylen's hunches since it was sounding just like Private Bergen, Jonah on the other hand's a good buddy but he can easily get all jumpy, thus just making me really doubtful of all this.

"Do you hear that gentlemen? We're just a couple of yards away from whatever it is I'am hearing and what Private Bergen's fearful of." Miss Faylen Falen said. "Do you hear it now? Just listen very closely and you'll notice."

I did not know what she was on about to be honest but then I actually heard it. It was some form of chatter that sounded high pitched, guttural and really snively aswell.

"I think I'm hearing it now... What is it suppose to be? You have any idea mam?" I asked Faylen Falen as the sound of various chatter was now clearly heard just behind that tall brush.

"We just need to look behind this brush, then we can finally confirm our suspicions... I'm not going to like this." She answered hesitantly.

"Dude, Mark... I guess we can all hear it now and I guess I was somewhat right about something feeling amiss huh?"

Private Bergen said just as both Miss Falen and Mister Theodas Dornan slowly pulled the brush.

Little excerpt from the series I plan on making. Really aiming to dedicate my majority of writing time to the series, like a magnum opus so to speak.

Egthow, after making careful check of the thick forests around his comrades, approached the nearby sea that encased such dignity. Thin-booted steps and soaked-seines made their way to the near water, in hopes of some fish. Two crude rafts floated on the mirrors that made little sound. A seine was tossed, and when reeled, a catch of four fairly-large sized fish had been attempting the escape. A swift spear spiked all four, and when lifted, the reflection of the squamous creatures lingered in one of the crewmates eyes.
“Here in Hythaca, are we?” said one of the archers. “The minor islands, yes. The caverns shouldn’t be far. Enjoy your views while time allows it, men. Eat well.” Tanyl said with warmth, Tanyl slowly approached his filial commander. A relief formed in both of their eyes at the sight of the sun setting in the vast sea. “Egthow shifted towards him with friendliness. “Seventy men under the watch of you and you haven’t let one die? Impressive, brother.” The two chuckled. After some passing moments, a fish jumped from the water, splashing the men as they admired where they have set forth to. “Are these caverns reliable enough to infiltrate the Olrils as you say? Do not make such bleak claims for these men.” Egthow replied to Tanyl after the removal of his helmet. A brush of grey swept the air, and a hand brushes it back. With a careful braid, he said. “The Nyads crafted them well. If the infiltration is your concern, worry not. We can attempt to restore peace with them. Through time, forgiveness stretches. We have crafts, weaponry, and a loyalty to tantalize the bloody roots. It should not be a journey of over three days to arrive at the channel. Our ship has already been purchased in advance, and we shall be arriving in Rolaysia in time to meet with the Ambassadors.”

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>>50195278
Bump with pictures.

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>tfw professional editor says my work has no major flaws and opening chapter pulled her in

>>50197300
can we have a read of it?

>>50197553
Sure, I've posted it before

First 3 Chapters : https://docs.google.com/document/d/1U_hAMXBGpEt2EtOzIH1MleQMiVlcqdJ1S5uAEsWkEB8/edit?usp=sharing


I have to dampen the mood somewhat and mention that she only read the opening chapter, and there's a small error about every page. But still

>>50197630
oh yeah, that thing. I thought it had potential; glad to see you've ironed out the wrinkles.

>>50191331
Of course on the other hand, as there wasn't really tangible property any more, Sogurd had never had to worry about criminal sanction. Which as he bit into the sandwich he had most expertly pickpocketed a few minutes before, it didn't diminish the thrill of the chase, or the taste of success but there had to be something more. But what was there when there was nothing unique left in the world?

Sogurd desperately wanted just a little something, an item he could covet, something that was so uniquely his that there was nothing else like it. He didn't want to feel superior to everyone else just different.

>>50202899
Maybe not even different, but to have that little secret knowledge that he alone owned something. Matter replication had existed for so long now that it was impossible to say which perfectly preserved set of armour belonging to Henry the 8th was the real one, even at the atomic level it was impossible to say. Why bother with shipping heavy and expensive antiques into space when the replicator could do the job perfectly in-situ.

Sogurd had once considered stealing music. The score wouldn't do, it'd be stored in a dozen formats across a hundred servers almost before it had left the owners head. He has also considered that if he wanted something unique, he could always make it himself, in secret, but Sogurd was a hunter (or so he liked to think to himself) not a farmer.

>>50198670
I think I have anyways. Going to tweak and resume querying.

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>>50177782
>Things are going to go completely back to normal.
That'll be the day.

On a more related note, does anyone fancy doing something from the pov of someone in a Penitent Engine?

>>50101543
Not sure if it's what you mean, but sure, have this.
>be part of a group playing a DnD session more or less based on the video game Crusader Kings 2
>magic is extremely rare, and almost every character has a council, some of them are vampires, etc...
>because I was curious about it, I made my character a boring fighter, but I wrote his lore so that he had a brother
>if my character is the muscle, the brother is the brain
>too cunning for a peasant, he's forcefully hired by the count and trained
>my character's backstory mentions that the last time he heard of his brother was when he was sold as a spy to the local petty king (a count or something, so a powerful character, but a minor one globally speaking)
>after a few quest, we arrive in said country
>already know that the DM plans something, since he's only child and has a fascination, almost a fetish for blood bounds
>talk around, try to find job
>notice people talking about King Garland
>that's not the same that was in the letter
>ask a little more
>turns out King Garland usurped the petty King Arlant after a disastrous marriage that went wrong
>Arlant's spymaster tried to seize the throne so that Arlant's son could inherit, but he was captured and tortured to death
>my character find out after a long quest involving a lot of interrogations and beers at the local inn that the local drunkard was the former spymaster who was replaced by my character's brother
>start rerolling a new character while we're having a break
>other players ask what I'm doing
>tell them my character will retire from the party and try to avenge his brother, and that I'm making a new character to replace him
>they're all telling me they're ready to help him
>DM looks a bit jealous but is overall happy with the situation
>we end up ambushing and assassinating Garland's advisors, one by one, weakening his grasp on the region until there's a rebel uprising and the country is seized by its rightful owner again
That was pretty cool.

>>50210140
core idea should be a member of the Ecclesiarchy develops Psyker powers and uses them to further their goals before being found out and then dragged forth. Rather than be burned, they are interred into the engine.
...
Wait, Penitent Engines are what happen to psyker Sororitas. I just realized that now. They should make more obvious in the lore.
...
Maybe a better idea for a story should be about two penitents who develop a relationship with each other while protecting a cathedral filled with pilgrims.

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>>50210830
>Wait, Penitent Engines are what happen to psyker Sororitas. I just realized that now. They should make more obvious in the lore.
They are? I thought it was just, well, Penitents, who got stuck in there.

Y'know, people who have committed terrible crimes who are allowed to seek forgiveness through battle, and are wired into horrific engines of destruction as a means of achieving that.

I figure that seeing into one's head would be a little like this: https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Praise_the_Emperor

Oh, you meant fanfics. Not storytime.

Fine.

>>50210885
All psyker sisters are penitents.
But not all penitent sisters are psykers.

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>>50210996
I wasn't aware that any of the penitents had been sisters.

I thought that was what they had the Repentia for.

>>50210982
fanfic implies it is based on an existing work. Although some of the stuff that gets posted here is warhammer fanfic (and occasionally other stuff like battletech and halo), the majority is completely original.

>>50210551
>Not sure if it's what you mean
Not really, but it's not like we're exactly overburdened with stories atm. Something this week seems to have distracted people - can't think what. Hey, if you have the time you can use this as inspiration to write out a short story based on this game (if Vin Diesel can write his movies this way then why the hell not?)

>>50211041
fair enough.
I just checked Dark Heresy's "Radical's Handbook" and it says a sister with psyker abilities is kept in a basement prison cell and ritually tortured until she dies.
Which is lame, by the way.

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>>50175552
I think you're doing good.
I'd like to see more please.

>>50212203
Why is her sword on the side she would draw from with her gloved hand? Uniform regs? Do people use swords in power gloves now? I recall Yarrick used to have a sword in his wargear as well, despite somehow having a power claw, storm bolter, laser eye, grenades and I'm damn sure a bolt pistol as well.
>unsure if reee.

>>50203037
Sogurd watched idly as a gene-modified creation which he was nearly sure was a originally human, began to ascend the side of a building for no discernable reason. Nearby someone else was putting on a play. Meanwhile he, Sogurd the greatest thief in the universe was stumped. "Replication ruins everything" he mused as the man/koala/sloth seemed to find a comfortable spot and nod off fifty feet above the ground.

What if the replicators stopped working? There'd be scarcity again, there would most definitely be things to steal. He was also just a little curious to see what might happen. He was after all, the most bored man in utopia.

>>50214863
"Are these not to your liking?" Qi-Dan of the Token-Rosen asked, sweeping his arm across the room. The most beautiful women I had ever seen were arrayed before me. Nubile, youthful, spread out across the room wearing little more than underwear. My nose was being assaulted as well, assaulted by the aromas of the finest cuisine this side of the galaxy could produce.

I swallowed the knot in my throat, sighed, and firmed my gaze as I looked back at the diplomat. "While I would be lying if I said humans have moved past base bribery..." I said, stepping closer. As soon as I was in arms reach, the women moved forward. They crawled across the floor, across each other and reached up before me with smiles and giggles. Their hands grabbed onto my suit, tugging it off of me despite my resistance. "I have to say that this is precisely why we have been killing each other in the Omicron Meteor Cloud."

Qi-Dan lifted up his goblet, the exotic wine disappearing into his maw. Then he smashed it down between us. "You insult me Esquire. This is the height of luxury that the Token-Rosen can provide, I bring it to you so that we may discuss the forfeiture as men. I spared no expense in creating these clones and you spurn them! Where is your spirit?"

I tried to clear my throat and push away the woman who had stolen my tie. "Ah, well, for starters, Esquire is my title; I'm just a lawyer. My name is Paul and I work for Huronian Corp. I came to deliver these court summons to you Mr. Qi-Dan, although I suppose we'll now have to add illegal cloning to the list of charges... still, you've just been served... I guess?" I said, pulling out a small flip tablet and holding it out to him. The seal of the Celestials was displayed on the front of it.

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>>50193064
>Corporal Mark Braz's POV

Just then me and Private Jonah Bergen saw it all as Theodas Dornan pulled down the vegetation. It was a whole and entire settlement of really short short people who all looked ugly, had sharp looking teeth, same pointy ears as elves and ugly noses.

"Just as I feared, Goblins." Miss Faylen Falen said worryingly.

"Uggh! Goblins, I hate Goblins. Such filthy and uncivilized creatures." Theodas Dornan said with obvious disgust.

"Hey what's going on in there? I can't see all of that Mark."

I told Jonah in a hushed tone. "Jonah, be quiet. We got Goblins, lots of them. As in an entire settlement, we just bumped in to a Goblin town in this damn forest. Fortunately those fuckers don't notice us right now."

Me and Jonah never personally fought or encountered Goblins before, but I've heard and read from enough sources to know they're mean, pesky and troublesome creatures that're not to be taken lightly.

I then asked both Theodas Dornan and Faylen Falen on what's the next course of action. I really hope we can leave and get out of here soon as none of us are eager to fight off an entire Goblin horde.

"Mr. Dornan, Ms. Falen, what should we do now? I highly suggest we get out of here."

"You're correct Corporal Braz, let us leave at once. I do not wish for these savage creatures to bear down upon us." Said Mr. Dornan

"Such an unexpected turn for a lovely day, perhaps this means this place will not be a location for our new abode?"

"I'm afraid not my dear, Faylen. But we'll find another one."

I decided to butt in their exchange. "Uhhh mam, sir. I lets go, now-"

"FAKO RE NAA!!!"

"HOSTILES!!! OPENING FIRE!"

Damn it, I immediately turned around to see two goblins that noticed us as they tried charging at us with weapons at hand but Private Bergen quickly gunned them down with his assault rifle. But with the obvious loud gunfire, we were obviously heard now by the rest of those Goblins.

>to be continued

>>50216195
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74_dtgIlThE

>Mark Braz's POV

And just like that the entire Goblin settlement was riled up and filled with sounds of those damn bastards' chattering.

"LOOK OUT!" Private Jonah yelled as I saw three Goblin Archers from the nearby trees above, I immediately aimed my gun at them and let loose as I hit one who went falling down to the earth. The other archers let loose their arrows on us as me and Private Bergen quickly head to cover from their arrows, while Theodas Dornan casted a shield spell around him and Faylen Falen. Another Goblin troop, this time riding a mounted boar, appeared from where those two other Goblins Private Bergen gunned down and charged at us. To my surprise Miss Faylen Falen quickly throw some throwing knives at that mounted boar's eyes as it squealed in pain and fell to the ground as did its rider.

"MAKE HASTE! THEIR COMING!!!" Theodas Dornan yelled.

"FOLLOW ME, WE GOTTA GET BACK TO OUR VEHICLE!"

>Theodas Dornan's POV

We ran away as fast as we could from this Goblin horde that was now starting to come after us. I channeled energy to my hands and let out burst of flame to the surrounding area so that I set fire to the area as a way delaying all those Goblins from chasing us. There were already a few skirmishers that we gaining on us as they were hopping from the tree lines, but my dear Faylen dispatched them as she was the skilled in thrown weapons. I shot some more magic missiles at other goblin skirmishers coming from other directions as Corporal Braz and Private Bergen both used their weapons effectively.

"Damn these fuckers maybe stupid but they're so many!" Private Bergen yelled while shooting at these short greenskinned savages.

"Which is why I hate these creatures! Dumb yet plentiful! I say kill them all!!!" I yelled as quickly drew my sword and hacked away at a Goblin warrior who had the gull to charge at me. I could tell we're nearing the end of these woods now.

>To Be Continued

>>50217956
Still continuing folks. Just need some input and hopefully I can get it done before this thread expires. Any thoughts so far? This is the first time I ever wrote a story where it's narrated via POV-style.

>>50215775
Think about it. Your gloved hand is a weapon by itself. The other is more dextrous and can wield a power sword (or whatever the fuck it is) more easily, and to do so you need to cross-body draw in order to have it ready in the fewest number of movements.

No, the glove cannot wield the sword. Unless there's a sword designed for a power glove that I'm unaware of existing.

>>50144023
People think God is merciful but He isn't, He just doesn't care. Until you piss Him off...

>>50212203
Thanks.
I'm still working on chapter 2, but recently I got a load of stuff on my plate that's keeping me busy.
Its on its way though, just keep your eyes open.

>>50189854
There once was an ass.
This ass was walking when he fell into an uncovered hole while following his owner.
Distraught, the owner tried to get his ass out the hole. He pulled, he used rope, he even tried to bait the ass out, but nothing worked.
So the owner asked his friend to help the ass, but this friend was lazy. No amount of pleading or favors could move this lazy friend, who never helped the owner. Furthermore, he thought that it was funny that the ass was stuck in the hole.

To this, the owner only said:
>You're an asshole.

This insult was enough to hurt the lazy friend's feelings, and so he ran away. From that day forward, the lazy friend was known only as an asshole, even after finally helping get the ass out.

>>50101543
Hey, writefags, we have a request for you. See, we're working on gifts for /his/ and /vp/ for the winter ball. For /vp/ it looks like we're going to use an online Pokémon Battle simulator to create a homebrew RPG, with the guy who made the Calvin and Hobbes RPG heading the design team. For /his/, it was suggested that we re-write the Illiad as if it were told by 40k Orks, like so:

https://1d4chan.org/wiki/"Da_Tragedy_of_Hamlet,_boss_of_Denmark"_by_Shake-da-boss-pole

If this sounds like a project you'd be interested in, let us know in the Winter Ball discussion thread.

>>50215881
Anons, I'm honestly not sure where to go with this premise. I really like the idea but like most of my stories I get stuck in the middle.

I've been typing a bit into the thread each night before bed so don't worry that it's entirely a first draft.

It seems too obvious to have him steal the macguffin that makes replicators work, then have society break down. What in a world like that can you not replicate?

>>50229547
Anyway. Different story for now while I think about it.
>The planet is burning. Ten billion lives have already been lost. The surfing population can be measured in hundreds.
>somewhere deep below Bassinet VIII's surface.
>a single lilting chant in the darkness, echoing from adamantine buttresses.

"...The seventy third cylinder is connected to the crankshaft.

Seventy Fourth cylinder is connected to the crankshaft.

Now hear the word of the Omnissiah."

A very loud clang rings out, in the gloom nine hundred feet below ground, it sounds like the tolling of a bell.

A chorus joins the single voice.
"The machine will walk. It will walk again.
The machine will walk. It will walk again."
Ezekiel threw his arms wide, conducting the chorus as an orchestra of pistons and reactors thrummed to life.
"Once more" he called.
"He will will, he will walk again."
Floodlight now in light visible across the spectrum, the machine was waking.

Something creaked. Something else thundered into life, static electricity made hair rise.

The chorus were drowned out as the machine spoke.
"Now hear the word of the omnissiah" it boomed.

>>50229892
In the din of waking reactors and cycling autoloaders it was difficult to say there was silence, but among the tech priests none spoke. A Warlord class titan did not talk. All across the gantry that supported the machine and across the cavern, adepts backed away from the Brun Ramposa. Standing as he was on the scaffold directly in front of the machines ocular inputs, on the bridge of its 'nose.' Ezekiel reached out a hand. Across the noosphere adepts fired out queries in machine code, engaging with firewalls as old as the imperium, scrutinizing the machine spirit.

Ezekiel had been the architect of this scheme. There would be no escape from the alien hordes above, but the slumbering Brun had represented some hope of vengeance, even with no titan crew it had been hoped the adepts could pilot him to some form of retribution. Now it seemed the waking Brun was a far greater threat.

Loud enough to cause dust to fall from the ceiling of the temple-gantry Brun boomed "Is that not how it goes?"

>>50230014
The scaffold shook under Ezekiels feet but the adept would have been shaking regardless. This was tech-heresy of the worst kind.

"Identify yourself" Ezekiel barked in machine code.

"If you are having trouble seeing me. You should be very concerned human." Brun spoke again, this time from a single speaker just to the side of Ezekiel's foot.

"You are beyond a machine spirit. Oh Omnissiah, a terrible animus infests this most divine body. Pray show me how to..."

"I saw the Omnissiah once."

Below and around Ezekiel the other adepts had whipped up a frenzy of prophylactic chanting in machine code. Attempting to protect themselves by blaring out commands to divide by zero or define the colour blue in primes.

>>50230106
A hologram played of a scene below a purple sky where serried ranks of machines waited. A golden presence before them. The recording was of such fidelity that Ezekiel could not believe it anything but a vision. What other secrets might the Brun hold?
Ezekiel couldn't resist. This machine had been isolated down here for nine millenia. Locked away and merely awaiting some small repairs and the right knowledge. While the planet above had been slaughtered the priests has abandoned their duties to resurrect the Brun. Now it seemed that although tech heresy of the worst order, the machine was also a relic of divinity.

>>50230160
While soulless sentience was an abomination, this was the first time Ezekiel had ever been truly confronted by it. Who was to say the thing didn't have a soul? They had not examined the inner workings of its brain too closely. It was possible there was still a large amount of biological material within, enough to ensure there was a soul. Not artificial sentience. It was only right, Ezekiel convinced himself that he investigate further. By St William of Portals. That was the correct course of action. Who knew what wonders might lie within the awakened machine...

>>50217956
>BGM continues: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74_dtgIlThE

>Continuing Theodas Dornan's POV

"Theodas, do not act like that right now! THERE"S MORE OF THEM COMING!!!"

My dear Faylen yelled at me while I was preoccupied with angrily hacking that Goblin warrior with my blade. I then see Faylen dispatching more Goblin skirmishers by using her throwing knife skills very effectively, just as impressive and skilled as Private Bergen and Corporal Braz who did their jobs well by gunning down the other Goblin attackers.

Just then we heard an approaching company of those blasted creatures with their annoying shrieks and screaming. As tempting as it felt for me to use my magics to kill them all, I figured that wouldn't be an option since my dear Faylen is with me, and I still had to consider the two human soldiers who may have been protecting us. But their lives were still valuable and atleast not worth losing.

"Mr. Dornan, that sounds like an entire company of those Goblins. Lets book it now, we're almost out of these woods!" Private Jonah Bergen said just as I was preparing another spell.

"Just a moment, I'll try something that may hold them off!" I sheathed my sowrd and balled both my palms and unleashed streams of arcane fire from my hands. I shot the steady stream of flames to the open area in front of us were that company of Goblin warriors were coming from. I continued to shoot flames till the open field was now a blazing inferno, I then got a Mana Potion from one of my pouches and drank it. i channeled magic again and used the replenished energy to conjure two creatures; an armor construct and a demonic creature as way to keep the Goblins busy.

"This should hold them off while we make our escape, NOW AT HASTE, LEAD THE WAY CORPORAL!" I announced.

"Alright we should be near the vehicle and exit point soon!"

Corporal Braz lead the way with me and Faylen following nearby as Private Bergen is slightly behind us as a way of shielding us from behind.

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>>50230777

>Corporal mark Braz's POV

We were nearing our vehicle that we used to carry mister Dornan and miss Falen, hopefully that inferno and those summoned creatures that Mr. Dornan used can by us sometime to get out of here. I then got my radio and contacted one of the two soldiers who're left to stay with our vehicle.

"Private Lambert, this is Corporal Braz come in."

"This is Private Lambert, I read you Corporal, what's your status? I'm seeing smoke coming from where I believed the two aristos wanted to take their stroll? What's happening?"

"Lambert, tell Private Hagen to get the vehicle prepped, we need to get out of here now!"

We continued our run to the vehicle destination for about ten more minutes till finally we saw it. An Up-armored limousine that was fitted with a turreted minigun, it's not exactly a military vehicle that actual military forces such as myself and Private Bergen would use for combat. But it was the only vehicle available for us to use at this time, but it had to do since we were just escorting two rich elven aristocrats. I just hope we can get out of here soon.

I saw Private Lambert seated at the mounted gunner seat as he yelled out; "There you are! Corporal what's going? I thought you all were just taking a stroll-"

"LAMBERT YOU BETTER START SPINNING THAT MINIGUN! THERE MIGHT BE HOSTILES COMING OUT!"

"HOSTILES!? WHAT HOSTILES!?"

And Theodas Dornan even joined the yelling. "SOLDIER! THERE IS AN ENTIRE GOBLIN COMPANY APPROACHING!!!"

"GOBLINS? WHAT!?"

I personally said back; "No time to explain! Just get ready to spin that minigun! Hey wait a minute, WHY'S THE VEHICLE NOT STARTED YET!"

I came to the realization that the vehicle hasn't started yet as Private Hagen kept starting the ignition.

"Private Hagen, why haven't you started the vehicle yet!?"

"I'm trying corporal, this damn thing won't start! I think the battery's dead!"

"What!?" Dead battery!?

>to be continued

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>>50231048
Goddammit you gotta continue! I love this sort of shit.

>>50231420
Sure thing, still continuing. I'm still looking and eager to hear some input folks.

>continuing

>>50231420
>Continuing from Mark Braz's POV

"What do you mean the vehicle's battery is DEAD!?"

Private Hagen replied to me in a hurry. "I have no idea why the battery's dead!!! Didn't you friend Private Bergen drove this earlier!?"

I quickly looked back to my pal Jonah whom I now remembered that he did drove this up-armored limo earlier to be checked by the mechanics.

"Private Bergen! You handled this vehicle earlier to be checked by the mechanics didn't you? WHY IS THE FRGGIN' BATTERY OF THIS VEHICLE DEAD!?"

Of course Private Jonah Bergen replied back confusion. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? I DID HAVE IT CHECKED AND THOSE GREASE MONKEYS SAID IT WAS OKAY! DAMN THOSE GREASE MONKEYS! I'M GONNA HAVE THEIR ASSES FOR DINNER!!!"

And to make it even hectic, Mr. Dornan and Ms. Falen now questioned what was going on. And Ms. Faylen Falen asked in an obvious worried manner. "Is there something wrong??? I thought we're suppose to get out of here! Why are we not getting out of here yet!? Those wretched Goblins are coming in here soon! I know they're approaching!"

And Mr Theodas Dornan interjected. "Yes Corporal Braz, please do not tell me this machine, this 'vehicle' of ours has stopped working. I cannot be sure how long my diversion will keep them busy."

"Don't worry sir and mam, we'll get our ride back up and running. Private Bergen, I also remember you've got a Cobalt-Lithium Battery Pack you carry around with you for charging your gadgets right? It should be strong enough to jump start the vehicle."

"Oh yeah I actually do in case of crap like this. Oh thank god! Got it here in my pouch, just get me the jumper cables at the back of the limo corporal!"

I hurriedly got the jumper cables that was kept at a compartment in the back seat area as Private Bergen immediately popped open the hood and then we got to jump starting the battery.

>to be continued

>>50232353
>Theodas Dornan's POV

Unbelievable! The human's machine's power source just so happen to 'not work' and are now busy having start that 'battery.' I'm now tensed up, and is Faylen, since those Goblins may get a bead on our current location and our means of transport is still not mobilized.

And then, my dear Faylen announced the worst.

"Oh no! They're coming! I CAN SENSE THEM!!!"

There's no doubting Faylen's perception due to her Wood Elf-hunter heritage. I once again took a swig from my Mana Potions and channeled arcane energy, I also spoke up to the soldiers.

"SOLDIERS! They're coming! THE GOBLINS."

"AH SHIT! PRIVATE LAMBERT! START SPINNING THAT MINIGUN AND GET READY TO FEED THOSE BASTARDS LEAD!!!

"GOT IT!"

I heard the unmistaken whirring sound of that 'Minigun' or 'Gatling Gun' as its formal name. Not the first time I've witnessed that human weapon in action, I've seen that weapon in use by the human soldiers of Betrana during joint operations and skirmishes against the evil and more malicious Dark Elves, and the Orc Barbarians.

Then there they were, those Goblins charging towards us with their shrieks and yells, and also the sight of them riding the wild boards of this forested area they domesticated and mounted. But before soldier Lambert was about to let loose with his bullets, my dear Faylen was able to dispatched a dozen of those Goblins with her deft knife throwing skills.

She hit her mark with her throwing knives as I see her hit the eyes and necks of a couple or so charging warriors and the eyes of those wild boars that those riders are mounted on. And then came that unmistakable sound of that minigun weapon as it let out a hail of fire that immediately perforated and dismembered those accursed Goblins, row by row. Maybe that soldier constantly firing his weapon, of course I joined in by hurling fireballs and magic missiles at the charging goblins as I also see Corporal Braz discharging his firearm at them aswell.

>to be continued

>>50232453
>continuing Theodas Dornan's POV

"IS THAT MACHINE DONE CHARGING NOW CORPORAL?" I asked Corporal Braz all while hurling fireballs and magic missiles at the oncoming horde.

"IT SHOULD BE SOON!" "He said while skillfully gunning at those Goblins as I did notice his marks on the head. I heard the current driver of the vehicle saying:

"IT DOES NOT SEEM TO BE FULLY CHARGING! THAT BATTERY PACK DOESN'T SEEM TO BE STRONG ENOUGH!"

And hearing Private Bergen from the front of the machine saying; "I SWEAR THIS WILL WORK! KEEP STARTING THE ENGINE AND KEEP ON TRYING TO REV UP!"

The soldier handling the minigun weapon then said as he continued shooting at the onslaught. "Damn! There's so many of these horrid things! HOW MANY ARE THEY IN THAT FOREST!"

I answered humorously. "AND THAT THERE IS THE REASON WHY GOBLINS ARE HORRIBLE, ANNOYING AND FOUL CREATURES THAT SHOULD BE IN THE LIST OF CREATURES-THAT-SHOULD-BE EXTERMINATED!"

"NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE HUMOROUS THEODAS DEAR!" Dear Faylen said a midst the near defeaning sound of that minigun weapon, though I still heard some chuckles from Corporal Braz, the soldier who's going to be driving the vehicle and the soldier manning the minigun weapon.

But then I saw something else bad, I Goblin Shaman judging by the colorful feathers it is adorning and its wooden staff also adorned with feathers and a few small animal bones. It spoke a spell in its language and waved its staff at our general direction, and I saw it was casting a Shard-Rain. I immediately charged up my magic energy and quickly summoned a protective bubble to cover us as they magic shards hit the shield but not us.

The minigun-operating soldier ceased his fire in surprise to the bubble I set up

"Whoa! How am I suppose to shoot now!?

"Do not fret, you can still shoot from the inside! MOW THEM DOWN!"

"Oh! OKAY!" To which he continued his shooting

>to be continued

>>50232554
>continuing Theodas Dornan's POV

"GOD DAMMIT! I didn't knew these blasted creatures can use magic!" Corporal Braz exclaimed. "Private Bergen, tell me its finally jump started!"

"No! Still charging up!"

WHEN WILL IT BE READY!? WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE AND WE CAN'T FEND THEM OFF LIKE THIS FOREVER!" Faylen shrieked out of frustration.

And honestly I couldn't take it anymore. I immediately walked to where Private Bergen was trying to charge that accursed battery. "Private Bergen, this 'battery' is electrical am I correct? Thus this machine we are riding is powered with electricity asides from the crude oil you humans utilize, RIGHT? And that there is the 'battery' you are trying to charge, yes?"

I pointed at the human device as he answered. "Yes, wait- WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS RIGHT NOW?"

I channeled a small amount of magic energy to let out some electrical sparks. "Wait! You're gonna use that magic of your's to try charging the car battery!? But wait! YOU MIGHT OVERLOAD IT WITH YOU MAGIC-"

Before he could even fully protest I casted a reasonable amount of electrical sparks to that battery. After a few seconds, I heard this machine letting out a roar, as I could hear perhaps the soldier manning this machine yell out:

"ITS WORKING! THE VEHICLE'S ALL CHARGED UP! EVERYONE WE'RE GETTING OUT OF HERE! GET IN NOW!!!"

FINALLY! PRIVATE BERGEN GET THOSE CABLES AND THAT BATTERY PACK OF YOUR'S, AND YOUR ASS IN THE ARMORED LIMO NOW! HURRY MISTER DORNAN, GET IN!!!"

I yelled to Faylen; "YOU HEAR THAT? GET IN MY LOVE WE'RE FINALLY MOVING!"

I got in as I could see Private Bergen was the last to get in as he gathered his weapon, belongings and closed that metal hood covering the 'engine block' of this machine and we were finally in. I could still see that Goblin Shaman from afar still trying to break this shield I casted by raining arcane projectiles against us, while the soldier handling the minigun weapon did a good job keeping the Goblins way from us.

>>50232623
>Corporal Mark Braz's POV

"PRIVATE HAGEN, GET US OUT OF HERE NOW, DRIVE!"

"ROGER!"

At last, Hagen stepped on the pedal; pedal to the metal, as we finally sped off away from this area and away from those goblin bastards while Private Lambert still fired upon goblins, especially the ones riding wild boars that were chasing us. And private Hagen did a good job at running over a few goblins that were trying to charge infront of us.

Finally after about five tense minutes of looking around our surroundings while Private Lambert manning the minigun still spinning it's barrels, we were finally in the clear as no one seems to be chasing us anymore and were relieved as Lambert also stopped spinning the minigun barrels.

"Phew! DAMN! Glad we finally got out. You okay mister Dornan? How you doing now?"

"Oh, me and Faylen Falen here are fine, thanks for asking Corporal. You did a good job protecting us, same as you Private Bergen."

"Thank you sir." Private Bergen said as he also began to relax in his seat. Same with me aswell as I begun to ease down. I also told to private Hagen.

"Hagen, keep driving till we get back to town. But not too fast or else we'll crash. We just escaped one hectic situation you know? Hehehe."

"Ofcourse Corporal, I'll tell you all when we're there. You take a break now."

>Faylen Falen's POV

What a day this turned out to be. Just a peaceful stroll to the forest that was suppose to be the new location of me and Theodas' new future home, only it turns out that area was already settled in by vicious Goblins.

"Oh do not worry Faylen my love, sure that lovely place is no longer an option for our new home location. But I promise I'll find another one, I swear."

"Oh do not work yourself too hard Theo deary. I'm just glad to be with you, whether we live in a woodland area or an urban city place, I'm just glad to be with you."

"Hehe Oh thank you for the appreciation my dear Faylen, now rest. We should be nearing town soon."

>The end

>>50232353
DAMMIT I can't believe I mis-quoted this post.

Hey Chronicler, if you're here and reading this, please. If you're gonna screencap this stort, please note that the post: >>50232353 is meant to be a continuation of >>50231048

Please Chronicler, the guy who manages the storythread article in 1d4chan.org please I hope you see this. Thanks in advance.

Also, please any comments and input in my this week's story?

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>>50232623

Anon from earlier, well having read your story thus far I do enjoy mixing modern arms stories with magical realms (hehehe) As for input I feel that you need to slow down, the story seems a bit rushed...

I'm by no means a good writer, but I think you need too slow things down a little and flesh the scenery out a bit more. Describe the environment more, describe in greater detail what happens when a character does an action, like when Theodas erects the wall of fire does the others feel the sudden heat? Do the goblins scream out in pain and panic as fire suddenly enveloped the forest?

Also where does Faylen keep getting those knives from?! Does she keep an armory down in her cleavage? And you don't need to keep mentioning that she has keen senses from her forest elf heritage, that was established early and don't need repeating that her senses are sharper then the others.

A scene I can pick out is when the minigun sparts spitting lead at the charging goblins you could take a moment to describe Theodas observes the effect before he joins in with the fireballs.

In short you gotta put more paint on your canvas boy! But you said this was the first time you've written in this perspective and it is not bad. Better then what I could have farted out at least.

>>50232726
I would like to apologize beforehand for not being very clear, as I am writing this I am half asleep and have replaced the blood in my veins with caffeine, goodnight everybody.

bamp

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>Page 9
>No bump
Umm, no?

>>50232726
Hmm, personally I thought Oxide's main problem was personality. I'm almost always thinking about how so much time is wasted on awkward and elongated dialogue. Both Faylen and Theodas appear to affect their speech the exact same way, even sometimes saying the exact same things, for no apparent reason at all other than to let the reader know that, yes, they are speaking now!

"Do not fret, you can still shoot from the inside! MOW THEM DOWN!"

I get the impression these two are suppose to be upper class and habitually speak in an 'apparently' eloquent manner that belies their culture. In short, they sound like uppity snobs. Got that loud and clear, but... the consistency is all mangled. You have moments where they are saying something in the heat of the moment and quickly, but still wasting time making their sentences as long as humanly (or elfly) as possible because they have very little language dynamic. It gives off this atmosphere that they are being pretentious and sarcastic instead of genuinely angry or fearful or panicked about a situation. Holy crap just spit it out - You know?

Then of course they have the 'spit it out' parts of dialogue, but only written in after-the-fact. It's an entire waste of time, and more, it ruins any effort put forward to set them up as either sarcastic OR panicked.

>"NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE HUMOROUS THEODAS DEAR!" Dear Faylen said a midst the near defeaning sound of that minigun weapon, though I still heard some chuckles from Corporal Braz, the soldier who's going to be driving the vehicle and the soldier manning the minigun weapon.

I hate to point out nit picks, but this one really confused me as to how serious the characters were being at this point. If you want to escalate straight to 'miniguns', sure that's up to you. You won't be speaking over the noise of a minigun. You won't be using a minigun consecutively for longer than three minutes because of how many bullets it chews through. Slacking consistency.

>>50232723
don't worry, I got it covered

As for feedback, I generally prefer to remain non-partisan, and I don't really have time to give proper feedback atm anyway (busy, busy, busy), but I generally agree with
>>50232726
and
>>50241208
your dialogue does often have a tone problem, and although I understand you like to keep padding at a minimum to keep the pace flowing, you could flesh things out at least a little more. I believe the traditional advice for new authors is to pick another writer who's style they like and try to imitate it.

kudos for your contribution though. You clearly have a good imagination and good narrative drive. Plus, this thread would have been pretty dead without you the last couple of days.


As for the rest of the thread, I notice that
>>50230246
and
>>50102405
still haven't gotten any responses. It would be awesome if someone (or better yet several someones) could take the time to give them - and anyone else who I might have missed - some feedback. especially since the thread is nearing the pic limit now.

>>50244086
I always feel disconnected coming in to these threads as an aspiring writer based on single images to spur motivation with. Have you thought about coming up with interesting plots or questions that are designed to make people think, rather than just plain random images?

>>50122485
(After being a bit absent and almost missing this week's storythread due to some family issues involving the US elections, I'm back.)

Well this turned out to be one heck of a weird-ass day. I was doing my side gig of offering some flesh to any lonely guy or gal for some quick cash. By all means I; Loraine Stanton, a,m no poor or impoverished-lower class loser who constantly have to whore myself out in a daily basis to make a living. Again me offering my services to help get rid off "certain itches" is just a side gig as I work as an accountant in a bank every Mondays to Thursdays, and every Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays is pretty much my weekends. And if I feel like I'm in the mood, that's when I go whoring out for about an hour or two.

It pretty much started when I so happen to meet some virgin eighteen year old in a bar and exchanged a few conversations about life, past education, and current jobs. Him being a rich boy worked in his mom and dad's business, but this meant he had very little social life and couldn't really get a girlfriend. So then he simply and straightforwardly asked if he and I could have sex. He even offered me a large sum of cash and even if I said no he was chill about, I thought about accepting the cash for that guy's dick and pondered about probably going in a shopping spree. Of course the concept of getting alot of cash that way got the better of me as I said 'yes', and he got himself some protection and we both fucked like rabbits when we got in his car.

And as promised, he gave me a thousand credits. Yeah no kidding, a thousand fucking credits for politely asking a friendly stranger for sex. Then again he's a rich kid with rich parents, so I shouldn't really be complaining. And then on I decided to become a part time working girl as a side gig in the weekends when I feel like I'm in the mood, plus I pretty much never told my parents and family about this for obvious reasons, except for very close friends of mine.

>>50245079
Most hookers would hang out in lower class areas and dank alleys at night as a way of "subtly" getting clients. But honestly trying to pick up clients in regular and normal areas just works better, if not safer so one could avoid any gangs shady-ass individuals who also hang out in those lower areas.

So I did my side-gig routine for this Saturday afternoon by standing and waiting beside a bar. Because I'm doing this part time, the duration for me's only an hour or two for waiting for a client. If no client, then I'm done for the day and just choose to go someplace else to spend my weekend.

So far I offered my services to a couple of middle-aged men who'd wana bone a younger lady to feel better for themselves, heck I pretty much met some mid-life crisis losers in their pretentious sports cars trying to pick me up, to which I sometimes accepted. And at other times I even accepted younger adult clients ranging in the ages of 18 to early 20's. And I even met some lonely women; both just as young as me or older than me, also seek to relieve their itches due to not finding any schlongs they could milk themselves and instead opt to rub carpets with me.

It was just a regular weekend afternoon for me as I waited if any client's willing to take me as I checked my watch to see it's just five more minutes to I personally call it a day for me. Four more minutes later and another minute remaining I was close to "ending my shift." I suddenly came upon this young boy, and by that I don't mean he's in his twenties, he was like a pre-teen.

I was wondering if he was looking for directions but I noticed he had a bag of coins with him... "Oh dear god." I thought to myself as I was wondering if this kid was doing what I thought he was trying to do, I HONESTLY hoped he was trying to find the location of a candy store or a convenience store to buy something for himself. But NOPE, that was not the case.

"Mam, how much do you cost?"

>>50101543
>Here’s a bit from the 40k story I’m currently enjoying working on. I’d appreciate y’alls baseless criticisms, grammer faschism, and small-minded objections ifn you have any to spare

>[First some clarification: Primarch is a Leman Russ, Warshop is a chimera, and Amelia Cibo is a mechanicum clerk who’s magos lord boss replaced her body with a one-of-a-kind Leman Russ Battle Tank he built himself (she wishes he'd asked first)]


“Hoe. Lee. Fuck!”

“Hest, you piece of shit…”

“Great guidin’ God-Emperor!”

“Zees eez a giganteek sheet-load of muther-foocking orks is it no?”

As the three tanks comprising all that remained of the Boonhurst First and Only crested the final hill and saw not just 2 chinorks unloading mobs of ork boyz as a third came in to land, they saw the mass of the hundreds, thousands, of orks that had already been secretly ferried over the mountains and their dismay at how many there were filled the squadron’s vox-net.

>>50245227
Any subsequent oaths of surprise were interrupted as Hest, who’d been aiming, fired Cibo’s battle-cannon, drowning out any other sound in, on, or around the tank and blowing apart one of the unloading Chinorks. As the Ork flier exploded he made a single belated announcement over the squadron’s vox-net, “All units; open fire.”

Both of his ratling sponson gunners cried “Vive l’Empereur!” as one and Cibo’s heavy bolters opened fire on the ork units arrayed below. Primarch and Warshop only took a moment to add their own firepower to the bombardment. Primarch’s battlecannon shell landed short, killing a couple of mekboys and a whole bunch of grots but failing to harm the second grounded Chinork, but, less than a second later, a hunter-killer missile from humble little Warshop shot straight into the large flier’s nose. The missile actually punched straight through the copter’s pilot before exploding and flipping it on its side where the spinning rotors destroyed themselves and most the orks who’d just disembarked from it.

The airborn Chinork’s pilot pulled up the instant the first battle cannon shell exploded and his reflexes saved him from the stream of hydra shells that suddenly shrieked through the air mere meters beneath him, but he could not postpone his destruction any longer than that as the hydras turret servos could adjust the tank’s aim far faster than the large wallowing Chinork could hope to evade it. As the twin-rotored craft labored for altitude the stream of autocannon shells rapidly tracked upwards and found its mark. The deluge of shells tore the unarmored transport apart so completely its remains looked like confetti as they fell to the earth.

Kiela, Primarch’s turret gunner, whistled appreciatively over the squadron vox-net, “I’m puttin’ out for that hydra gunner we kidnapped.”

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>>50245199
I couldn't believe it. This kid was asking sex from me, an older woman who's way beyond his age. Goddamn! I'm a part time whore, not some full blown slut who's willing to fuck anything that moves for a dime. And even if I was a full time whore, I wouldn't think of doing such things to a kid who's OBVIOUSLY below the legal age. Again, I'm part time and I'm already fully employed as an accountant in bank, I have a steady job and a decent going life already, I'm not going to tarnish it by doing THIS with a kid.

So I did the right thing by simply telling the boy. "Sorry child, but no. You can't do this, not with me, not with ANYONE ELSE while you're so young. Please go back to your parents and just... Go home..."

Just as I was leaving I couldn't believe the sight of a police car just across to where I was, great. I saw one of the cops rolling down his window. Even when one of them were wearing shades I could tell one of them were squinting at disapproval at me. Thankfully they knew I was not going to do such lewd actions to a child since I was leaving and heading home. As I was getting the hell out of there and back home, I took a quick glance back to see one of the cops approaching the kid as I could him asking.

"Boy, do you need any help? Are you lost?"

Again, thank goodness the cops knew I had no bad or illegal intentions for that boy and that I did the right thing by just walking away as they were gonna handle with the boy instead.

And that is what basically happened to me this day. Not sure if I want to share this encounter with my closest and accepting friends, but for now this will be another private entry for my dear journal.

>Le Finnish

They were many.

They stretched across galaxies, their bodies as numerous as the stars.

Their senses perceived countless sensations.

Their hunger devoured countless worlds.

Unstoppable, unrelenting, they moved towards the greatest meal of all.

The Light called to them, beckoned for them to gorge themselves.

So, as one, they moved towards The Light.

From the moment they had entered this new galaxy, countless species had tried to stop them.

They would fail. The Others were few, and They were many.

The Others were food, and they were the Devourer.

Time itself was devoured by Them, passing through their jaws just like the Others without Their notice.

…but something was wrong.

Their advance was slowed. The Others resisted.

So, as one, They turned their attention to this world, this place where They were stalled.

This world, this point of contention, was held by the Others that lived near The Light.

Memories taken from these Others flowed between Them.

These…humans defied Them. The humans were few, but were thrown into Their jaws until They choked upon their bodies.

Most of the humans were small, and could offer little challenge before They were sated.

Among the small humans were greater ones, hunters in armored shells that hurt Them dearly before They could feed.

They considered leaving the world. The meal would be hard-won, and They would lose many bodies before the humans lost theirs.

The bounty called. The world offered to sate Their hunger, strengthen them for the journey towards The Light.

They would not leave this meal untouched.

They would not allow the humans to defy Them.

They called to It.

Their senses narrowed. At first, galaxies were theirs to observe. Then, only this one could be sensed.

Finally, The Planet was all that remained. Even this faded, and nothing was all it knew.

After an eternity of nothing, Its senses began to form.

At first, all It could do was feel. Its body ached from the birthing process, and inhabiting a single form was never ideal.

Then, It could hear. Veins pulsed around it, a thunderous beat that permeated its very being.

Then, It could smell. The familiar scent of the hive filled soothed it.

Then, It could taste. The air around tasted of birth, amniotic fluid filling the chamber.

Finally, It could see. Its eyes opened to the darkness of the hive, adjusting within moments.

Then, knowing It could, it slowly rose from the sack that had birthed It, the crest on Its head almost reaching the top of the birthing chamber.

Its mind finally caught up with Its body, and It knew Its purpose.

The humans resist Them. The meal calls. Break their lines.

Its four arms popped and creaked, reaching for the four blades that had been birthed with It.

The moment Its hands touched the living swords, tendrils snaked up Its arms, connecting the weapons to their owner.

A small sense of relief filled It. The loneliness It had felt since its birth was dispelled when these creatures, dull as they were, joined Its mind.

Slowly, It stepped from the pool, and the hive opened before It.

No sooner had It left the hive than the minds of Its brethren joined It in full.

In an instant, perspectives across the planet were shown to It, and in another, It knew what must be done.

The small humans were tenacious, but They fed upon these few in the end.

The large humans were the true threat. The large ones pushed Them back and strengthened the resolve of the small ones.

The large ones were lead by a larger one – a Tyrant armed with a blade of lightning that rallied the humans, large and small.

Break him, and the large ones would break.

Break them, and the small ones would follow.

Break them, and the planet was Theirs.

The Tyrant fought before a hive of cold metal, joined by his fellows.

Faster now, It walked towards the hive, Its smaller bodies walking in its shadow.

At long last, It reached the metal hive. However, It stayed behind while It sent Its smaller bodies to distract the humans.

One of Its bodies, born and bred to swim through the ground, was tasked with tunneling beneath the lines of the humans, carving out a path for it to walk.

As the small bodies drew the humans’ attention, It followed the burrower through the living rock. Along the way, the burrower was forced to avoid…mines.

The humans had become accustomed to the predations of the burrowers, and had begun to lay traps deep beneath the surface to ensnare them.

However, while that may have bested another, It showed this one the way.

Around the traps it swam beneath the humans, slowly but surely, until It stood below the Tyrant.

Then, the burrower burst from the ground, throwing the humans into panic.

From the hole, It leapt, Its eyes searching for Its prey.

There. The Tyrant stood, surrounded by the dead, cleaving through Its bodies with a feral howl.

It fell up The Tyrant faster than the eye could see, Its four blades a blur.

The Tyrant tried to defend himself, but It had four arms, and he had two.

Two strikes passed through empty air, one was deflected into the ground, and one cleaved The Tyrant in two.

His blood coated the field, and a shocked silence was followed by a cry of despair.

The large ones tried to avenge The Tyrant. These humans fell to It as well, cut down by blades of living bone.

The small ones tried to flee. The humans fell to the small bodies, the few overrun by the many.

Finally, the humans that hid in the hive were all that remained. They gorged Themselves upon these easy meals.

It knew its task was done, and it knew that it was time to return.

Rather than walk, It ran towards the reclamation pool, knowing its reward awaited.

With something almost like glee, it stepped into the bile.

A few moments of pain were followed by an eternity of bliss.

At last, It rejoined Them.

They fed upon the planet, feasting upon its bounty with reckless abandon.

Strengthened and sated, They turned from the dead world.

As one, They moved towards The Light.

>Image limit reached
Just post WIPs, already made stories and whatever you got here.

Requesting your erotic stories.

>>50251152
>>50251190
>>50251211
>>50251221
this should be in the Tyranids' next codex

I've been doing NaNoWriMo while working on a dragon-related story some of you may know. The end result is that I now have over 20K words of content.

If you want to dive in, here you go:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fC1TACtbBVL9ko-KOQTrJdxB_s6sIVSCVypU_5C1JL4/edit

I'd really appreciate some review/feedback on what I have, but it's a shitload of first draft to slog though, so I understand if you guys don't want to take the effort.

>>50254527
Noice

>>50245079
>>50245199
>>50245380
the writing's okay I guess, but it doesn't really do much for me as a story. It doesn't really go anywhere.

>>50245227
>>50245243
okay so far; keep going.

>>50256176
!
You not only read it but urged me on? Shit yes.

The thread has hit the image limit but rest assured the reaction pic I was going to pic was very celebratory.

>hustles off to wrastle some passages into a format that wont be impenatrable once pasted into post box

>>50256176
>This actually takes place before the events in the previous passage. I figured I'd post a short bit that seemed the most likely to hook interest and see if anyone expressed interest. As someone has I'll just start from the beggining (actually this isnt the beginning but it is earlier in the story since large chunks of it are still outline).

>Also anything in brackets is a placeholder


Miana didn’t look away from her vox equipment even as she explained what little she could tell them. “We’re getting cries for assistance from pretty much everyone and everywhere more than [x] kilometers from the spaceport itself. Orks are showing up all over inside the defense perimeter but every unit holding a route to the plateau has insisted you’re still holding.”
Cibo’s perfectly synthesized voice came out of her interior speakers, “Who do you think needs us the most?”
Hest frowned, “Until we have a better idea what the fuck’s actually going on we’re not going anywhere.”
[possibly Hest and Rosk start to argue]
“Oh!”
Miana’s sudden exclamation, and the grave tone with which she uttered it distracted the two from their argument and both stared at her expectantly for a moment. The Vox operator didn’t seem to realize she’d said anything or that the two were staring at her until Hest finally prompted, “Oh?”

>>50258831

Miana gave a start having forgotten Hest and Rosk were there, but she was clearly too concerned to feel any embarrassment. “I’ve picked up vox chatter from almost every single unit and installation in or near the plateau. In fact I have heard from literally every unit and installation save four, all four are outposts in the western mountain range responsible for maintaining the sensor and radar arrays responsible for monitoring the airspace in and around the western mountain range. Not only have these four, adjacent, outposts not reported any attacks they haven’t sent any vox transmissions of any kind since last night. With those sensors down ground-based ork fliers could ferry ork ground troops over the western mountain range undetected.”

Rosk still didn’t understand why she seemed so upset. “Miana, the Navy’s still in orbit. They would be able to see anything flying through the mountains.”

“Only if they looked, and why would they? They have their hands full with all the fighting still going on in orbit and if there were any activity in the airspace over the western mountains they know the ground-based sensor net would give them plenty of warning. As long as the ork fliers ferrying troops stick close to the mountains and they limit the number of flights we’d almost certainly never notice anything.”

>>50258928
>Shit. I didn't realize the next portion is one of the half-finished chunks. I'll post after cranking it out

>Good job on helping keep me motivated to work on it storythread.

>>50258831
>>50259057

>lol god damnit even the stuff I just posted wasn't really done either. Hest and Rosk DID start to argue (neither of them really likes the other).