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post #1 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-14-15, 01:19 AM Thread Starter
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Default Traitor's Reborn

So a project myself and Brushie have been working on. Please let us know what you think and as always, constructive critism is welcome.

We both may be posting parts of the story, or it may be me posting both of ours, but she will be doing half the writing. So, in no means am I writing the whole thing. (she's writing the good parts! hah)

Enjoy!



PART ONE
Written by Brushie

“Get your damned feet off the control panel.”

A pair of pale grey eyes in the darkness, harshly illuminated by the acrid green glow of various ship monitoring displays and cogitator screens, narrow in mild annoyance. A pair of figures sit diligently at the centre of a small, cramped control room, filled with various complex machinery and trailing wires that have worn with age and frequent use.

Odile is statuesque and undeniably noble in appearance, her chiselled features hard and set under a mane of long, immaculately kept silver hair. A multitude of dark, blasphemous tattoos snake their way under her armour and up to her jawline, before sharply stopping; leaving her moon-pale countenance clear and perfect.

The rather battered, ebony armour she is adorned in marks Odile as one of the blessed Sisters of Battle, although it seems not so anymore. There are scuffed areas where purity seals have obviously been roughly torn away, religious marks and emblems viciously scraped off and filed down until nothing remained.

“Pshh.” Comes the inevitably huffy reply, the offending boots begrudgingly heaved up and off the steadily bleeping screens. Nell takes a long drag of the gently smouldering lho-stick that hangs on her lips and exhales with a bored sigh, rolling her eyes behind chunky, soot smeared goggles.

Sporting various outlandish, spiked piercings and with a messy mop of tied back, wildly flame coloured dreadlocks Nell is every bit the typical hive ganger in appearance. Her features are a world apart from Odile's haughty neatness; she has a particularly rough, mischievous look about her- a Vaxanide rogue through and through.

“Found anywhere yet?” Nell murmurs, obviously not expecting a positive answer.

Odile does not look up from the screens, occasionally reading any fragments of text that sporadically flash into life here and there.

“No.” She eventually responds, apparently a woman of few words.

The hiver immediately groans in frustration, leaning her head back as she brings a hand to her face. They had been searching for days now, scanning carefully for distress calls from worlds under siege or suffering from chaos incursion; they needed supplies, and soon- being alone, stealing them during already ongoing raids was the easiest way to stay alive and undetected whilst on the run.

Nell promptly whinges despairingly. “Why is everyone being so boring? It's never been this quie-”

Her whining is suddenly cut short as a series of initially garbled, panicked speech makes the nearby vox transmitter crackle into life. An open distress call- a desperate plea for aid from an ailing planet. Chaos marines.

It was time to move.


BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR HIS SKULL THRONE!
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post #2 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-14-15, 01:21 AM Thread Starter
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Written by Captain_Loken

Khrokos opened his eyes and looked around, noticing he was still in his throne room. He had taken his helmet off and set it on top of the skull that made the hand rest. He rarely wore it these days. He decided it was too cumbersome. Instead, he wore a twisted face mask. It shielded his face, but still kept the weight off his head. This also gave him the ability to use his enhanced optic systems placed in both eyes. He could sense the body heat in his enemies and allies alike. This helped him when he was deep behind the lines of his enemies.

Khrokos was a huge creature. Bigger than the average Astartes. He used this size to his advantage by using a massive chain fist. The talons that help the blade had been sharpened to needle-like apparatuses. He was very fond of getting close to his enemy, smelling and tasting his enemy’s blood. He lifted this fist off of his helmet and rose to his feet. The slave who had been polishing his boots was surprised and impaled by the massive spikes protruding from his leg plate. Khrokos simply shook the weak creature off of him and put his massive boot on the slave’s midsection as he took a step forward, crushing it’s ribs and organs within.

He always kept a chain on the top of the barrel and also on the bottom of the hand grip which were both attached right behind Khrokos’ elbow, on the bottom edge of his pauldron.

Khrokos was like a walking, spiked, tank. His every move thundered throughout the room. No one would dare touch him, nor even get close to him. The spikes covering nearly every edge of his power armor and even his pack on his back.

“Ready you weapons, sergeant. We head out within the hour. Where is our Astropath?” He asked as he looked around the throne room.

“I will get him, my lord.” Replied the smaller sergeant-at-arms, and hustled out of the room with haste.

The Chaos space marine standing to Khrokos’ right wore a long robe over his black and gold ceremite power armor. A black crozius surrounded by spikes over a hollowed center on top of a massive plasteel staff was held in the right hand of the marine. This showed his status and power within the company. Khrokos used him much as his personal psyker and telepath. The sorcerer imbued Khrokos’ weaponry with specific demons to give him power from within the warp. Khrokos’ bolter was proudly showing the demonic possession with the skull of the imbued demon placed over the barrel. The barrel shoved through the backside of the skull and through the gaping jaw, the huge razor sharp teeth biting down on the edge of the barrel.

“I am becoming impatient, Aba’khar. We need that astropath to find us the next blasphemous world. We are running out of slaves quickly.” He said as he looked down to the crushed, pulpous slave he had murdered only moments earlier. “Their weak bodies do not tend to last very long.”


BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR HIS SKULL THRONE!

Last edited by Captain_Loken; 08-15-15 at 05:24 AM.
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post #3 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-14-15, 05:50 PM
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A solid and interesting beginning from both of you, I think this will be an interesting tale to follow. So, in Bushie's part, the ex-sororatis and the ganger are searching for distress calls to steal supplies from? Or are they secretly helping those with the distress calls? That was the only thing I confused by.

That aside, though, I liked it. Will be following .

“Evil is relative…You can’t hang a sign on it. You can’t touch it or taste it or cut it with a sword. Evil depends on where you are standing, pointing your indicting finger.”
-Glen Cook, The Black Company


Tales of Heroism and Bravery, in the 41st Millennium and the Old World. Perhaps some Realm Gate Wars in the future .

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https://www.heresy-online.net/forums/...d.php?t=121879
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post #4 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-14-15, 06:49 PM
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Originally Posted by Myen'Tal View Post
A solid and interesting beginning from both of you, I think this will be an interesting tale to follow. So, in Bushie's part, the ex-sororatis and the ganger are searching for distress calls to steal supplies from? Or are they secretly helping those with the distress calls? That was the only thing I confused by.

That aside, though, I liked it. Will be following .
Ah, butts. Didn't make myself clear enough. Yeah they're indeed looking to steal supplies
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post #5 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-15-15, 05:11 AM
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Wow. Present tense third person. That's a tough one to pull off, and I'm looking forward to seeing more. It'll be a cool counterpoint to Chaos's part.

As for Chaos's part, Khrokos's description is too scattered. You might want to have the three paragraphs of Khrokos's description all together in two paragraphs that then lead into the sorcerer's description.

That aside, I like what y'all have so far and look forward to the next installment.

The Book of Grudges will know their name.

The Worlds of J.D. Barbera
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post #6 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-18-15, 04:26 AM Thread Starter
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(sorry it took so long for an update guys, been busy!)

ENJOY!
-----------------------

Khrokos was excited to get back into battle. He yearned for it and lusted for it. His brothers on the ship looked to him for sustenance and he would give them what they wanted. As he looked around and brought his thoughts back to his current surroundings, his Astropath walked into the throne room. His pale face twisted by the warps powers. He hardly wore as helmet or a face mask to cover his face. He took pride in his features and wore them proudly.

“You called, my Lord?” He said, a hint of arrogance in his voice.

With a snarl he glanced at the Astropath. Unhappy with the whelp’s attitude, he replied, “Yes. We are in need of supplies. I need you to call out and find an ailing planet and get us there. Do you understand?”

With a nod and a bow his mouth opened again, “Yes, Lord.” Having received his orders, the Astropath turned and walked towards the exit.

Khrokos had heard the reports given by his Astropath. He was anxious to get boots on ground and unleash the demons in his weapons. They hungered for the blood and flesh of the Imperium. “Soon, you will both feed.” He was looking at the grand chain axe in his hand and nodded to himself. He decided that his chain fist was to be used on the worthy foe. The human prey, they sought was no where near worthy enough. Realizing his sorcerer was still next to him, he grinned “gather your acolytes and prepare for transport onto the Imperial world. We shall take what we need by this time tomorrow.”

The sorcerer Aba’khar nodded in respect and replied, “It shall be done, my lord.”

Aba’khar then turned away, his cloak of dark human leather swayed around him quickly. Khrokos had given Aba’khar free reign of the entire flock of slaves to use as his acolytes, and he had trained them well. Most of the slaves who had become his apprentices died within the first few days, their soul fires were far too weak to bear the strong power of the warp energies. As the slave numbers dwindled, Aba’khar was also in desperate need of more fresh meat.

The siren of planetary approach sounded loudly and Khrokos rose to his feet quickly. “Are the transports ready to touch ground?” He asked one of the servitors monitoring the embarkation deck.

The mechanical voice responded as if it was the computer itself, “Yes, my lord. They are awaiting your orders to launch.”

“Very good,” was all Khrokos had to say as he began his trek to the embarkation deck. It was only a couple hundred meters from the command station, and he knew it would only take him a moment.
As he approached the enormous blast doors of plasteel and adamantite, they quickly opened up from the center and Khrokos entered the dock and saw his sorcerer awaiting his arrival and quickly walked to him and mounted the transport. As he sat at the front of the craft, the sorcerer entered and sat to his right. The transport could only fit thirty warriors in, but sending four transports with that many in each was easily enough to take care of what needed to be done.

“Today is the day, brothers and son’s of Abaddon. We finally touch ground and feed upon the flesh of the corpse Emperor’s slaves. We will ground them to meat within our palms, and take our prize. Gather anyone deemed able to work as a slave, and any ammunition that can be salvaged. The gods are watching us, this day, brothers. Let’s not disappoint them!”

With a roar from the warriors within the transport and over the vox linked between each of the vessels, and a thumping of the engines kicking to life, the transports shot through the ether and were quickly in the orbit of the planet.

The enemy was caught unaware of their arrival until it was too late. Transports landed amongst the streets of a major city and a horde of onlookers stood in awe as the assault gates opened. Massive figures ran down the ramps and as quickly as they appeared, bolter rounds rained down upon the onlookers. Cries of anguish and horror appeared amongst the throngs as they ran for their lives nearest the closest cover or hiding spot.

Massive chainswords crashed upon random people as they tried to escape. The slaughter was beautiful, Khrokos had thought. Almost as if in response to his thought, the Planetary Defense Force was rushing towards them. Dressed in dark blue garb with the standard white body armor over it. They dug in and began firing upon the massive warriors with their lasguns.

“Brothers, flank their positions and feast on the weakling’s souls,” barked Khrokos to the squad that was around him.


BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR HIS SKULL THRONE!

Last edited by Captain_Loken; 08-18-15 at 04:30 AM.
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post #7 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-18-15, 05:14 PM
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Wheee! My turn!

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

Their current ship, the Acanthis Tacet, was by no means an asset to be proud of; it was a comparatively tiny, ageing, hastily stolen waste transport ship- possessing only just-passable gellar fields despite having no warp ability of its own, designed instead to latch onto other larger, actually warp-capable vessels to travel between systems on the quiet.
In truth, it was a vastly outdated heap of junk; but it was their home, the Acanthis Tacet was all the divergent pair had to keep fleeing from the wrath of the restricting Imperial life they had so willingly escaped.

Odile stands gracefully, beckoning a lurking servitor over to take her place in front of the score of monitoring screens. “M-02A; you know what to do. Keep the core system within acceptable parameters.”
“I live to serve.” Comes the droning, monotonous reply as the individual clunkily seats himself, immediately plugging in various wires and tapping away swiftly at the data input station.

The woman then turns to Nell, who looks up from her seat, arms comfortably folded. “I suggest you make preparations to land.” She makes to leave, turning for the doorway before calling back over her shoulder.
“I will be in the cockpit. Hurry up.”
The hiver waits, still seated, until the ex-sororitas has left before rolling her eyes, silently making a childishly comical parody of Odile speaking. Nell eventually rises up out of her squeaking chair with a grunt, pausing to stretch and noisily crack her knuckles before also wandering for the door.

Humming to herself, Nell shuffles along the rusting, narrow corridors of the ship, scooting carefully past piles of boxes, disappointingly empty supply crates and general piles of unidentifiable junk, occasionally ducking under loops of wires and pipes she did not know the function of. She reasoned she probably should know, but that was the servitors job- as far as she was concerned she didn't have to care.
Kicking open the door to her characteristically messy quarters she strolls in, grabbing the only tool of her trade; her old, beloved laspistol. Unlike Odile, she felt she needed nothing else; she relied heavily on her unpredictable abilities as a psyker to get by, and it was just that what she was famed for back on Vaxanide. “Sparks” they used to call her, on account of both her scorching temper and her unnerving affinity with fire.

These were the same talents that one day drew the attention of the inquisition, and eventually lead to her previous life as an inquisitorial acolyte. A life she had long since left behind; a despised life she now eternally ran from.

The ambience in the far too warm, cramped cockpit was palpably tense as the juddering ship worryingly rattled its way through the upper atmosphere and slowly, gently, made its way down to the planet's surface.
Nell eventually sidles in and leans forward across the control panel, temporarily lifting her goggles to peer out of the misted window; the tiny flashes of las fire and pillars of oily smoke suggest they had arrived after the assault had already begun. Good. The crackling vox transmitter embedded in the worn, grimy control panel occasionally emits snippets of barking, distressed calls for aid amongst loud, irritating bursts of fizzy static. Odile promptly turns it off.

“Are you ready? It seems this won't be easy.” Grey eyes briefly flicker from the ship's monitoring system to her companion. With a clipped sigh, the hiver nods in assent, taking a seat.

Not a moment later the rumbling sounds of detonation erupt from outside the ship; far too close for comfort. It seemed the pair had woefully underestimated the planet's anti-aircraft capabilities, and if there was a ship that couldn't handle direct bombardment, the Acanthis Tacet was it.
Whilst Nell promptly spouts various obscenities and grips the handrest like a frightened cat, Odile barks orders into the shipwide comms; alerting servitors to man their stations and make any necessary repairs.
The ship veers wildly amongst blossoming puffs of flame and shrapnel, the cockpit a squealing mess of shrill bleeping screens and the fussing of the vessels old, stuttering machine spirit. “Warning. S-Sh-Shields at eigh-eighty p-p-percent. Fou-fourty p-percent. Warning. S-secondary th-th-thrus-sters damaged. Please r-r-repair immediately.”

The ship jerks suddenly as they suffer a direct hit; Nell is thrown forwards out of her seat with a surprised yell, although Odile somehow manages to retain her position. “Wwwww-warning. Sss-s-shields a-at cr-cr-critical level. P-p-prepare for imminent co-collision.”

“Damn it all..” Odile spits. Their stomachs lurch as the ship rapidly descends, barely able to keep itself in the air. The ex-sororitas leaps from her seat, snatching up her equipment- a pair of bolt pistols, a combat-ready belt and a battered jump-pack. She snaps at Nell, just managing to haul herself to her feet. “Get up, we're bailing.”

The hiver looks incredulous as she eyes the single jump pack, but follows Odile regardless out of the cockpit and towards the loading bay. The sororitas harshly thumps the controls for the reinforced loading bay hatch to open; a rush of air immediately slams into them both, the noise deafening.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Nell shouts over the wind. “We can't just jump!”
“You'd rather go down with the ship then would you?” Odile snarls back, checking her gear is secured properly.
“Of course n-” is all Nell can say before she is promptly barrelled off the edge of the platform and into screaming, terrifying freefall- Odile holds her tightly, hurtling towards the ground at speeds Nell didn't want to think about.

The ship veers off above them, more and more explosions smashing against the ship until it finally succumbs to the onslaught; it thunders down, scudding frantically against the earth and eventually crashing forcefully into a district in the distance.

Meanwhile, the planet's surface approaches faster and faster, Nell's squealing becoming more and more panicked; Odile skilfully whips them both around, sending the thrusters on her jump-pack into roaring life just before they hit the cobblestones; the fierce gouts of flame slow their descent, just enough. Both Odile and Nell hit the ground, sent tumbling and rolling like toys until they both come to a skidding halt in the dust.

It takes a few long moments before either of them move. Odile is up first, picking herself up with a thin groan of discomfort.
Her jump-pack had taken extensive damage- one of the thrusters was badly dented and she thought she could smell fuel leaking from.. Somewhere.. With a huff, she decides to unclip and discard it, wandering over to the prone Nell, poking the face-down figure with a steel-capped toe.

“F*ck off.”
Odile allows herself a small smile in relief; they'd both survived.
She offers to help her friend up- Nell winces as she's brought back onto her feet. “Corpsy's dusty nutsack, don't pull that kind of crap again... Or at least warn me first, yeah?”

Odile murmurs and shrugs noncomittally as she finally takes in their surroundings. The area seemed fairly quiet, they had apparently landed in a residential district a little way from the main fighting; the echoing snaps of bolter fire and the fearful revving of chain blades audible in the distance.

Nell unclips her laspistol, checking it over- luckily it hadn't suffered any damage apart from the odd scrape and insignificant dent here and there.“We should move. Now we need supplies and a new stupid ship.”

The pair take a minute to stretch and check themselves over before heading in the direction of the ongoing battle, and the supply warehouses; hoping that under the cover of bloodshed they could steal away what they so sorely needed.
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post #8 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-18-15, 08:18 PM
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Pretty action packed and interesting chain of events. I like the characters so far, though I feel Khrokos is your typical Chaos Lord. But the story is only beginning, so I think it's too early to really say for certain, but I would try to give him some unique traits, quirks, or flaws that make serving the ruinous powers, all the more ruinous :D. Overall, though I like where the story is headed from both perspectives.

Keep up the good work you two.

“Evil is relative…You can’t hang a sign on it. You can’t touch it or taste it or cut it with a sword. Evil depends on where you are standing, pointing your indicting finger.”
-Glen Cook, The Black Company


Tales of Heroism and Bravery, in the 41st Millennium and the Old World. Perhaps some Realm Gate Wars in the future .

Gods' Hall (Completed)
https://www.heresy-online.net/forums/...d.php?t=161618

The New Word (Completed)
https://www.heresy-online.net/forums/...d.php?t=121879
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post #9 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-18-15, 09:09 PM Thread Starter
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Originally Posted by Myen'Tal View Post
Pretty action packed and interesting chain of events. I like the characters so far, though I feel Khrokos is your typical Chaos Lord. But the story is only beginning, so I think it's too early to really say for certain, but I would try to give him some unique traits, quirks, or flaws that make serving the ruinous powers, all the more ruinous :D. Overall, though I like where the story is headed from both perspectives.

Keep up the good work you two.

Thanks for the advice! I have a plan for him to be pretty unique.


BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR HIS SKULL THRONE!
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post #10 of 10 (permalink) Old 08-23-15, 05:00 AM
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I really like the two thieves and look forward to the past filling in and giving them so history. Odile sounds like my kind of gal. Terse and closed, but every once in awhile a crack in the armor lets the light shine out for just that split second. Her moments grin at them both surviving was delivered just right.

Khrokos is saddled with the slow start, and I feel for him. I'm looking forward to your plan to come into focus.

On an aside though - he's not a florist gone bad is he? I see his name and all I hear is crocus, and visions of flowers fill my mind.

Keep up the good work!

The Book of Grudges will know their name.

The Worlds of J.D. Barbera
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