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post #21 of 48 (permalink) Old 11-30-15, 01:50 PM
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Very cool! A fun entry into atmo.

I don't have any constructive feedback, other than I really like your dialog construction.

After reading a couple times, I wanted something solid to give you. I've said it before - I think you're dialog is a strength of yours. I know you're stretched for time, but here's a blog I follow, it's a gaming/writing blog (a wee left of my political view, but they have good, good stuff) and I am always looking for more foundation instruction. Perhaps you are too. This piece of yours today made me think of this article on dialog, and how well you follow good dialog rules.

This link goes to a three part article on aspects of dialog. The second helped me the most.

The Book of Grudges will know their name.

The Worlds of J.D. Barbera
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post #22 of 48 (permalink) Old 11-30-15, 06:32 PM Thread Starter
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Thank you for the input, Treesnifer, I already gave one of the articles a read. Useful information to know for the future , it'll probably take some practice to actually follow up on some of that stuff properly though. Still, it's good to know .

“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

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https://www.heresy-online.net/forums/...d.php?t=121879
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post #23 of 48 (permalink) Old 12-01-15, 12:15 AM Thread Starter
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J’karra descended through the skies in the midst of a rainstorm, eagerly hurtled toward the verdant earth that rushed to meet her. As she fell through crystalline skies, through harmless rain clouds, the breathe was stolen from her lungs. A great canopy of a temperate forest stretched across the horizon for miles on end, heaved upwards in some places by great mountains and rolling hills. The tongues of vast rivers snaked through the mystic wilderness, reflecting the rays of the midday sun off of their placid waters. The sight was such a striking contrast to the arid plains that she had known all of her life on the Sept World of Tau.

Aloh Fio was truly a great beauty to behold.

“Right… Time to execute.” J’karra muttered. Despite the protective enclosure that her battlesuit provided, she could hear the wind howl all around her. She felt the untamed gust weather against her nano-crystalline hide. “All squad members, initiate thruster sequence! We do not want to be in free fall when we break through the forest canopy.”

Ve’sa confirmed. “Copy, J’karra.”

Doran said. “Affirmative, shas’ui.”

Elan replied. “Understood, shas’ui.”

The jump pack integrated into J’karra’s XV25 Stealth Suit blazed into life, sapphire flames roared from her back and brought her to a jarring slowdown in her descent. Data rapidly scrolled across her visor as her battle suit’s internal systems adjusted its calculations for the safest landing. She curled the battle suit’s arms around her faceplate as she hammered legs first into the thick forest canopy. Such was her momentum that thick branches shattered like so many flimsy twigs, each with enough force to hit J’karra with a dizzying impact. She shut her eyes against the rough landing but for a moment and when she snapped them open again, her hooves lightly touched upon Aloh Fio’s rain-soaked ground.

J’karra spared herself a moment to take in her surroundings as the flames of her jet pack fizzled into nothing. The local forest that she had landed in had taken on a sinister and primeval appearance throughout its centuries of growth. Lush grass that gazed her waist sprang up from every crevice beneath twisted trees, dominated here and there by groves of wild flowers and patches of moss. In the blink of an eye, she counted half a dozen birds whisking themselves through the canopy. Further into the depths of this alien world, strange beasts roared and growled.

J’karra whispered into her channel. “Stealth Team Cold Inception, report.”

Doran’s voice was the first to reappear over the comms. “Shas’ui? I have landed with Elan some Tor’lek from your position. The stealth drone is with us. We’ll follow your signal and come to you.”

“Shas’ui, I’m here.” A female’s voice broke the tranquil silence mere feet away. Another crimson and ebony stealth suit stomped through the brush into the clearing to join J’karra. “Ve’sa, reporting.”

“Very good,” J’karra managed to sound impressed. “Everyone has made the jump—“

The shas’ui was interrupted by a loud thundering sound that made the earth quake beneath her feet. A flock of birds scattered to the winds. J’karra looked up into the endless rain and through the canopy. The Orca gunship Team Cold Inception had deployed from was a small dot in the sky, but one rapidly growing as it neared the landing zone. Then, in a brilliant flash, she noticed what had caused the earlier explosion that had rocked the gunship and nearly killed everyone inside. Several fiery-golden lances of atomizing energy rent through the skies in an attempt to track the gunship.

J’karra said. Beneath her faceplate, she snarled at the energy lances that seared the sky. “Orbital cannon, they must have detected our presence when we were entering atmosphere. We were fortunate the gue’la only managed to graze us. Wherever that defensive emplacement is located should be our first objective.”

Ve’sa shrugged her stealth suit’s pauldrons. “And here I thought we would be hunting for the gue’la base for hours, at least.”

J’karra waved her hand in the direction of Elan and Doran as they rushed into the clearing. “The gue’la know little about tactics that require concealment. I knew it would not be long before we had our target.” She turned to the hovering hexagonal field that could only be seen due to her suit’s internal monitoring systems. “Drone, resume stealth field. Cold Inception, we have a perimeter to secure and a base to locate. I want to be the first stealth team on the objective. Let’s move out!”

The rain intensified as Cold Inception followed the resounding trail of the Orbital Cannon. Verdant grasses wilted as the land turned into fields of murk, festered with dense groves of flowers and cropping of great and ancient trees. J’karra found that she did not mind the muddy paths through the woodlands. In fact, she was mesmerized by her alien environment. She figured that she may as well enjoy the sights before any combats broke out and the inevitable bloodshed began to flow.

That train of thought did not last.

Elan suddenly fell on one knee at the head of the stealth team and raised a fist into the air. He said in a whisper thin voice. “J’karra, I have spotted movement. Forty Tor’leks to the left, in the clearing.”

J’karra wheeled around the other members of her team and knelt beside Elan. Her gaze followed the coordinates, forty Tor’leks to the left into a large clearing that at seemed odds in such a sprawling forest as this one. The resounding discharge of the orbital cannon shook the earth once again and this time J’karra could feel it rattle her teeth. It was then that she noticed a shadow flicker through the underbrush with reckless disregard. A gue’la male dressed in combat fatigues was on patrol by himself, marked from knuckles to shoulders in strange tattoos that made her eyes ache. Cradled in his grip was a standard las-gun and his face was hidden beneath a rebreather helmet. His flakk armor was too pristine, it had not been scarred or dirtied by combat.

“Hmph.” J’karra huffed. “Ve’sa, wheel around on the contact’s left flank. Doran, take the right. Do not engage. I want to know if he is alone.”

Ve’sa shifted her gaze to her superior. “And if he is not, shas’ui?”

J’karra said. “Wait for my order. I have seen this type of gue’la before. Their military invest heavily warp science. I know what they can do firsthand. We should approach with caution.”

“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

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post #24 of 48 (permalink) Old 12-05-15, 08:55 PM Thread Starter
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J’karra continued to watch the lone gue’la wonder aimlessly through the forest as Ve’sa and Doran vanished on her flanks. Through the thick foliage, the human was the only presence that J’karra could detect herself. Yet the Shas’ui could not help but feel that there was something off-putting by the isolated warrior. She continued to observe with keen eyes through the her helm lenses as feedback came back from her other shas’la.

Ve’sa relayed through the comms. “I detect three other targets, shas’ui.”

Doran added. “Other targets confirmed, J’karra.”

J’karra grunted in satisfaction. “Any nearby structures that you can locate? We must be closing in on the facilities housing the orbital cannon.”

Ve’sa answered. “Affirmative. There is a minor bunker complex located a few dozen tor’lek’s from our position. It appears to have undergone concealment measures.”

Elan sighed. “A small outpost, then. Nothing of consequence.”

“I am not so certain.” J’karra replied. “These factors could indicate a subterranean facility. This could be what we are searching for. Even if the orbital cannon is not located near this particular bunker, they could still be connected in some way.”

Elan snickered over the comm. link. “Interesting theory. Only one way to find out, shas’ui.”

J’karra replied with another affirming grunt. “Ve’sa, Doran, proceed to engage located targets.”

Ve’sa and Doran intoned in unison. “Order confirmed, shas’ui. Engaging.”

Through the continuous patter of rainfall, abrupt staccato burst from invisible burst cannons stitched a path through the forest. The only remains of the cyan discharges were the tell-tale signs of hissing rain where water had touched super-heated energy and evaporated. Click-click-click. Click-click-click. The gue’la that J’karra had observed had no time to scream before he was shredded by the double-tap of Ve’sa’s weapon. The energy rounds tore through his fatigues like so much wet parchment. They exited through the other side of his body in burst of crimson mist. J’karra listened intently as she watched the carcass vanish into nearby shrubs. Click-click-click. Click-click-click.

Ve’sa was first to confirm her report. “All targets eliminated, Shas’ui.”

“Excellent work.” J’karra emerged into the clearing, Elan followed close behind her.

Ve’sa and Doran had spoken truthfully about the bunker complex. It was a small structure, no larger than one story and no wider than several dozen tor’leks. It had been created with the crude material the gue’la called ferrocrete and had undergone haphazard concealment modifications. The gue’la of Aloh Fio must have been primarily concerned with concealing the bunker from a distance and no closer. Her gaze assessed the strong metallic slab doors that barred them entry, however, and she contemplated on how best to remove it.

“Shas’la,” J’karra made her way toward the gate of the bunker. “Fall back into cover and assume combat positions.”

“J’karra,” Elan said. There was a note of concern in his voice. “Perhaps it is best to wait until the rest of the infiltration cadre and the Breacher Teams are on the ground?”

“Good point,” J’karra acknowledged. She halted just before the bunker complex and tapped her foot with impatience. “Do you see any points of observation on this structure? Strange, I do not have the nagging feeling that I am being watched.”

Ve’sa began to stomp off around the corner of the complex. “I’ll take a look around.”

The fire warrior had taken three steps forward before an ominous red light blinked into being atop of the bunker. J’karra only had time enough to blink and register the automated turret’s existence before the weapon spooled into life and unloaded a dozen shell casings in the blink of an eye. A frantic scream tore from Ve’sa’s throat for one fleeting millisecond before her body became a pincushion for a crude gue’la heavy stubber. Her stealth field evaporated in a wave of frazzled electricity and revealed her shattered battle suit, covered in blue gore and lying still upon the earth where it had strayed too close to the bunker.

“Back, Cold Inception! Back!” J’karra bellowed into the channel as the turret swiveled round to calculate her coordinates. She activated her jet pack, kicked the thruster in reverse, and glided backwards across the clearing back into the tree line. The fusion blaster in her hand kicked heavily, discharged a solid lance of sapphire toward the turret. She cursed herself as the blast narrowly missed its mark.

Elan and Dorn similarly utilized their jet packs and soared across the skies on trails of comet-fire.

“Damn, Ve’sa walked right into its sensors.” J’karra skidded back into dense foliage as her feet once again touched the rain-soaked earth. She deactivated her jump pack before she slammed back-first into a primeval tree.

Doran thundered. “Shas’ui, on your left flank! Another turret! Hidden in the underbrush!”

J’karra wheeled around to her right and squeezed the trigger of her fusion blaster on reflex. The area of dense shrubs that Doran had located detonated with a deafening crack and fiery explosion. The rain intensified and choked the flames. She heard similar explosions rock the earth around her, certainly Elan’s and Doran’s handy work as they eliminated targets before they could fire. Then suddenly another earth rattling boom shook the shas’ui to her very core. Another emerald lance of volatile energies shot upwards toward the sky.

“Don’t look now,” Elan quipped. “I think their bunker is opening!”

Siren wails mingled with the sound of tortured metal as the slab doors slid open. Beyond the gate, J’karra felt her pulse spike at the crude, alien obscenities being hurled into the air by at least two dozen soldiers. As the doors finally parted enough, more tattooed and ritually scarred gue’la poured from the crevice and into the clearing. Some protected themselves with the familiar flak armor that the Imperial Guard issued to its regiments. Others wore stranger, sleeker armor or charged out with nothing but their barrel chests to protect them against the xenos threat. J’karra’s calculating stare swept through them with one glance and counted several weapons of note: autocannons, stubbers, las-guns, and even hell-guns as the motley crew charged out with an air of caution.

Doran laughed. “I do not think they can see us. What are your orders, shas’ui?”

J’karra planted one foot firmly ahead of her body and unleashed another round of fusion blaster. Human heads craned in the direction of the noise and the brilliant flash of light. They promptly scattered the moment the first amongst them had his upper body obliterated by the blast. The second and third victims that remained behind him had half of their torso atomized and arm destroyed respectively.

J’karra gritted her teeth. “Engage.”

“Cold Inception to Unseen Moon, we are engaged by hostile forces. My drone is uploading our coordinates. Please, provide reinforcements. Up-linking predicted route to objective. Over.”

“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 #25 of 48 (permalink) Old 12-07-15, 12:07 PM
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So far so good! I'm looking forward to the confrontation with Mirathir, and if she'll take the Tau too lightly. ;)

The Book of Grudges will know their name.

The Worlds of J.D. Barbera
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post #26 of 48 (permalink) Old 12-08-15, 02:01 AM Thread Starter
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Chapter Four

Lord Tyrioc of the Thousand Sons flickered unstably, his holographic reflection depicting him somewhere far away from his display. He was silent for long moments, bent at the knees before an altar of the Great Changer. There was without a doubt, that when he did speak, the quiver in his voice was from silent rage.

Tyrioc’s voice echoed as a soft peal of thunder through his hallow chamber. “Of all the planes of existence that you have travelled, the dream-like worlds that you have seen, you dare unveil your alien nature in my presence? The gall of the eldar must truly know no bounds if you appear before me, unbroken and unbent, with your arms cast wide open in greeting and face smiling with welcome. You should be dead, Mirathir, which would be a small mercy if you had the bravery to visit me personally.”

“Lord Tyrioc.” Mirathir feigned a courteous smile in spite of the open threat. She bowed merely to appease the Thousand Son’s bruised ego. She felt no fear at his cutting words. “It is so good to finally know that you are in good health.”

“Hah!” A sound of quaking vibration emitted from the hologram as Tyrioc found his feet. The Adeptus Astartes was garbed in his sacrificial robes of luminous white, sapphire, and golden bands that decorated his sleeves and leggings and turned a solid almost limestone white at the midriff. He turned on his heel, revealing large eyes the color of the ocean through a mess of short, cascading blonde hair. A genuine smirk played on the edge of his lips. “Your catastrophic defeat has done little to lessen that sharp sense of humor of yours, Mirathir. I had always liked that about you.”

Mirathir quirked a brow, but her expression remained stoic. “Are you not in good health, my lord?”

“This physical vessel is whole,” Tyrioc glided over to a pristine opal table with a gilded trim. He picked up a glass of wine that frothed with a misty chill. “Yet my soul is ravished by the thought of revenge – upon you and the imperials of the world of Tyrannus. Vengeance that I have been wrongly denied. You promised the Thousand Sons a victory to last an eternity, Mirathir! What became of it? Instead, we found humiliation from a renewed, desperate foe and imminent defeat.”

“Apologies, my lord,” Mirathir replied slowly. Her ire was rising. “For saying what must be said. Yet you among all people should have known the risk of your strategy. You blatantly ignored the chance of failure that damned our war effort from the very beginning. And the Thousand Sons were not the only ones to suffer from humiliation and defeat. An alliance is an existence of two factions working in cooperation with one another. Ours failed. Both the Forlorn’s Beginning and your own Astartes share the blame, casualties, and dishonor. Is that not enough for you to call a truce and hear my words?”

The glass in Tyrioc’s fist turned into shards with a simple contraction of the fingers. “You desire to renew your war upon Tyrannus? I shall spare you some paltry advice: your eternal mission has failed Mirathir. In time, the Imperials shall scourge you and your precious little religion as they have with everything that has threatened them before… with the flames of purity and retribution.”

Mirathir’s smirk was an icy glare. “Should that come to pass, then inevitably they shall burn you too. The invasion of Tyrannus is more famed for the Thousand Sons’ part than any lowly cult.”

Tyrioc waved a hand dismissively. “How does your little oath go again, Raven Prophet?

“I am power.

“With your power, I am your servant.

“I am ethereal.

“With your blessings, I am no longer mortal.

“I am favored.

With your attention, I shall bring thy armies forth.

“I am blessed by the Gods.

“With your endless sacrifice, we pay tribute.

“I am immortal.

“With your benevolent wisdom, we make our endless war.

“I am demonic.

“With your words, we honor the Gods.

“Through your Gods, does the galaxy burn.”

Mirathir blinked, surprised. “I did not think Astartes would lower themselves to learning simple cult prayers, but I am pleased that you remember.”

“The meaning behind that is,” Tyrioc said darkly. “That whatever is spewed forth from the Eye of Terror can never truly die. For all of your prayers, Raven Prophet, you have never set foot there. And as such, I cannot name you amongst Those-Who-Walk-Eternity. Perhaps, you should begin concerning yourself about your own wellbeing. Because I believe, that you are not as immortal as you think you are.”

Mirathir became outraged. But only a venomous whisper emitted from her throat. “So you shall not come to my aid, after all.”

“No.” Tyrioc shrugged his mighty shoulders. “Go ahead, explain your predicament. I will consult the Changer of Ways and should you have a merit of worth in his eternal scheme, only then will I come to your aid.”

An invisible snake coiled around Mirathir’s heart and finally relaxed its grip. Mentally, the Raven Prophet was smiling. She had the Thousand Son where she desired him.

“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 #27 of 48 (permalink) Old 12-08-15, 10:47 PM Thread Starter
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Just wanted to comment again to thank you, Treesnifer, for your continued support . And also thanks to those that are still reading.

Also, I decided to begin reading Bleak Eternity from beginning to current place in search of any glaring mistakes. And of course, I come across one of Mirathir's dialogue lines. "We must go to war. Assemble my army. We depart for Teyl-Jhen."

... When did I decide that was happening?

Sent from my Nexus 6 using Tapatalk

“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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“Is it done?” Aenaria leaned against a broad bulkhead, her raven wings pinned against her blood-slathered plate. “Have you summoned your ally?”


“All things are revealed in time.” Mirathir stepped down from the raised dais as the holographic projection shuddered into dormancy. “Should Nyst play her cards correctly, I believe we should here from our Thousand Son very soon.”


“Thousandth Son.” Aenaria rolled the words on her tongue. “Choose your enemies and friends wisely, Raven Prophet. This Tyrioc looks imposing and well-versed in the art of war. Are you certain that you can trust him?”


“I trusted him once.” Mirathir gestured with a sweep of her arms across the vast chamber of wires and cogitators. “And a world trembled and burned before our combined minds. But you are correct, Tyrioc can only be trusted to a certain degree. Our struggle no longer involves the fate of the Imperium, but our very strongholds. He may very well decide to take everything for himself, should greed and madness push him toward the precipice.”


Mirathir indicated that they begin walking toward the chamber exit. “If such an imposing figure did choose to make himself my foe, would you remain loyal? Or would you serve whoever was stronger?”


Idle thrall-servitors powered into life at their approach. They were horrid creations of the Dark Mechanicum, machines of pallid flesh and machine-infused sinew. Yet in spite of the intricate labyrinth of cabling that bulged from beneath their burgundy robes, there was a haunting majesty about the half-human machines. The dark prayers they whispered into the ether as they pushed back the murals that led into the wilderness beyond was something Mirathir had found strangely comforting.


“Eternal Abyss!” Aenaria exclaimed. The blinding rays of the desert sun penetrated deep into the chamber the moment the mural-doors could even be creaked open. The Guardian recoiled from the brilliant radiance, but the thralls did not stop until the gateway had been completely thrown back.


Mirathir could only smile as she heard the angel gasp in wonderment.


The Aeretica Wastes glittered on the horizon, expanding across the east and west. A labyrinth of canyons and plateaus arose from the dunes to surround the Fortress of Aurellan’s flanks. Stretched out beneath them was a writhing sea of urban sprawl, bristling with fortifications, and bustling crowds. Mirathir gazed out beyond the fortress’ high walls and into the open desert that engulfed everything beyond the canyons.


Countless thousands had been vanquished in those sands. And yet not a shred of evidence of their passing remained. Nothing but the lingering futility of the lesser races.


“Welcome to Tarmathon IV, Aenaria.”


Aenaria beat her wings constantly, creating a breeze that cooled them both. “I must confess, to my shame. This is the first time I have set foot upon a mortal world. Can’t say I understand what all of the fuss is about.”


“You will learn, soon.” Mirathir crooned. “Your forces. How many have you arrived with?”


“Several thousand.” Aenaria pondered the question. “Enough to aid you in whatever task.”


Mirathir nodded. “You only just arrived. How long until your troops are ready to fight?”


Aenaria blinked, she obviously did not understand the question. “Give the order, Raven Prophet, and my host will be ready to conquer the Crystal Labyrinth if need be.”


“I will not reveal my hand just yet.” Mirathir said. “Though I do not like the idea of you and your horde remaining idle in my fortress either. Keep them under control. I shall have an opportunity to use your talents soon.”


Aenaria slammed a fist against her chest. “Your bidding, eternal.”


Mirathir sighed. “Please, Aenaria, I am not your master. Raven Prophet shall be appropriate between us.”


A distorted, mechanical voice thundered from behind them. “Mistress Mirathir?” Mirathir and Aenaria turned to reveal a Tech-Priest of the Dark Mechanicum looming over them. The creature was mostly machine, snaking forward on metallic tendrils and pointing at her with a bony finger. “Please excuse my interruption, but there are matters that require you attention. Immediately.”


Mirathir arched a brow. “What has happened, Dominus Tachyon?”


The Tech-Priest’s inner-workings rumbled. “An improbable event. One of our mechanicum outposts have relayed reports of an attack on their facilities. They also report heavy casualties.”


Mirathir sneered. “The Tau Empire?”


Tachyon inclined his head. “This unit has not been able to confirm such findings. Yet all evidence would suggest that such an outcome is likely. With your permission, this unit would begin the process of dispatching reinforcements to the designated location.”


Mirathir nodded. “Of course, Tachyon. Do what you must to eliminate the threat. Any clue as to what they might be after?”


“The facility in question happens to also be housing one of the planet’s precious orbital cannons.”


Mirathir paled. “Send the remaining facilities on alert status. Dispatch reinforcements to every cannon, I do not want a single one falling into the hands of the enemy!”


Aenaria unfurled her wings in anticipation. “Perhaps I could be of service, Raven Prophet?”


“Perhaps,” Mirathir said. “Tachyon, summon my Sorcerers. It appears the Tau have come early.”

“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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The doors that led into the Halls of the Unknown buckled backward with a peel of thunder. A dozen scrawny and pathetic looking thralls scurried into the room, bowed and apologized hysterically before the former ruler of the Forlorn City. Bazariah observed them in silence, watched them moved with all the elegance of a nurgling as their forms constantly shifted and writhed beneath their robes.

One of the braver thralls dared approach her throne. Bazariah could not see much of him, except the horns that curved out from under his hood, much like her own. She decided that she favored this specimen over the others.

Bazariah intoned in her choir-of-many-voices. “You may speak.”

The Thrall collapsed onto his hands and knees at the mere sound of her voice, but did not grovel. He whispered. “The Demoness and her envoy from the Forlorn City have arrived. They await an audience, your imminence.”

“Please,” Bazariah favored him with a smirk. “Have them brought before me. It would not do to have our guests begging for meagre scraps as if they were slaves.”

The Thrall picked himself up and obeyed. “Your bidding, eternal.”

The Thrall wisely vanished from sight and moments later, a once familiar sight greeted Bazariah at the doors of her chamber.

“Ah, there is my little traitoress.” Bazariah clucked her tongue. “Arrived to finish what you started, Nyst?”

Bazariah reclined further into her throne carved from the bleached bones of a mammoth creature. She perched herself upon the waxed lilac tongue that rolled over a set of heavily filed teeth and spilled messily over the smooth onyx floors. She was dressed in a simple Colchis that barely covered her knees and left one of her breasts neatly exposed, but hidden behind a column of raven hair.

The previous Demoness whipped her silken hair off her shoulders and made her bangs fly from the curved horns that jutted from her forehead. She flashed her perfect pearl fangs at Nyst in a mischievous grin. Her ebon eyes glared daggers, but Nyst detected a subtle curiosity in those eyes… and something akin to welcome relief. Bazariah casually removed a fragile hand from one of the throne’s tusks and gestured with her bony fingers that Nyst seat herself.

Bazariah watched Nyst study her surroundings with the intensity of a true Lord of Change. She cast her pupil-less eyes across the smooth onyx floors and furniture forged from solid crystal. Braziers hung in the recesses of great bulkheads blazed with a dozen fires, each a different hue than the first. The iconography of Tzeentch was emblazoned proudly from every facet. There were no dark rituals that would permanently scar the mind. No dark sacrifices that would bring the attention of the Changer of Ways. There was only the chamber and a magnificent view of the Crystal Labyrinth beyond her glassine windowpane.

“You invited me, Bazariah.” Nyst replied skeptically. “It would be rude to embarrass you in the realm of your guest.”

“You are being rude even as we speak.” Bazariah knitted her eyebrow in quiet frustration. “You are still standing.”

“Forgive my manners.” Nyst’s cheeks flushed, but that was not enough to stop her from kicking one of the chairs before she sat down. “I never visited the Crystal Labyrinth before. I would rather not be seated on a shapeshifting monstrosity, but if you must have everyone seated.”

“Please,” Bazariah purred. “Don’t be ridiculous. I often wondered after your swift betrayal, were you always so paranoid? I once thought the fool they called Nyst a single-minded creature, hell-bent on manipulation and games well beneath her. I understand now that I only saw the creature that you wanted me to see. And look what anarchy you have wrought, my dear traitoress.

“Our Realm is under invasion by the relentless Blood Tide. And without aid from those beyond your power, who are in position to aid you, you are defenseless against their onslaught.”

Nyst could not conceal her erratic giggle. “Now who is being dramatic, Bazariah? You of all daemons should know what I possess at my disposal. For every mortal felled at the Gates of Sorrow, for every angel shattered from the skies of heaven, countless red-skinned horrors soak the battlefield with their own blood.”

“Is that enough?” Bazariah shrugged. “You underestimate the power of the Dark Gods. Even I would have… quivered slightly if I were in your shoes.”

Now it was Nyst’s turn to shrug. “But you would have no aid from Tzeentch in the matter, considering that you cannot be in two places at once. So your position would be far… bleaker.”

Bazariah made a devilish grin. “So you have considered my pact. You have betrayed my confidence and my trust, and in normal circumstances, I would be inclined to steal your soul and rend it for an eternity or two until we were even.”

Nyst leaned forward in her chair. “But you desire to rule without risking everything? In the event that you withheld reinforcements from the Forlorn City and allowed it to fall into Khorne’s hands, you know there may be nothing left to salvage. Bazariah, Bazariah, ever do you wound me. No soul was permanently harmed by my little insurrection, you know that all too well.”

Bazariah grimaced. “I understand all too well what you meant to achieve, Nyst. Against my better judgement, I have offered an alliance in hopes that ruler-ship can be shared. Because two minds are almost always better than one. Do not give me a reason to doubt you, ever again.”

“Or?” Nyst said coyly.

“The Changer of Ways is impressed with my ruler-ship and my religion, a religion that you squandered and allowed to wither into the ether. Tazaryn and I have discussed many strategies that could restore my rule… many strategies that do not involve you. Remember the game you are playing, traitoress, and that those who fumble often only play it once.”


“So is this how you intend to challenge me?” Nyst replied. “Becoming the Changer’s whore? You disappoint me, Bazariah.”

Bazariah flashed her perfect fangs in a smug grin. “You have brought my four swords along with you. It is good to see them again and in capable hands. Though I will expect at least half of them back if we are to come to an agreement. And what of my prophets? To what aims have you been using them? And where is my tome of spells?”

Nyst yawned. “You should ask Mirathir. The menial tasks of religion are her responsibility.”

“Mirathir?” Bazariah arched a brow. “She resides in the Forlorn City? I owe her a debt of gratitude. Perhaps, if you find our prophets useless—“

“Absolutely not!” Nyst scoffed. “Mirathir remains by my side, no matter our dealings.”

“Aw,” Bazariah clucked her tongue. “Still infatuated with her? You cannot cling to her forever. Something is bound to happen to your favorite puppet, Nyst. It is the way of daemons. Why, while we sit here and talk her very soul could be locked away in some dark artifact for all eternity.”

“You were always one to worry about what could happen.” Nyst made a gruesome smile. “And that makes me wonder: perhaps you’re too paranoid for your own good? All of those centuries spent sending me into the mortal plane proved to be for nothing. After all, I felled you in the end.”

“Enough catching up, and more action.” Bazariah said. “Is there business to conduct between us?”

“Discuss your strategy and we shall see.”

“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

Last edited by Myen'Tal; 04-03-16 at 07:37 PM.
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NOTE: I changed the previous scene, I didn't think it was that good so I replaced it. So instead of Nyst landing in the Crystal Labyrinth and starting a fight, instead we have a polite conversation between Bazariah, the former Demoness of the Forlorn City and Nyst.

“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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