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post #1 of 30 (permalink) Old 08-04-09, 08:19 PM Thread Starter
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Icon Word Bearers Short Story

Here's a small excerpt from a longer story i'm working on, feel free to criticize and comment. Note: This story has the Word Bearers as an antagonist, it is labeled 'Word Bearers Short Story" because originally I thought I was only going to post this part however I have changed my mind and plan to post more of the story as I go.

The sun slowly rose over the northern mountain ranges of Reghaard V casting a dim orange-tinged light over the urban metropolis of Cyran Hive, which served as the capital of the planet. As did the sun the citizens of Cyran Hive rose at dawn and began their daily routines, be it living as a manufactorum worker or as a lowlife gangster trying to carve their name into the history of the capital.

The dawn's early light blinded Dion 'Lucky' Hrad as he opened his eyes, his head pounding from drinking too much liquor. He was of a slight build, with black hair and light skin. He bent over the side of his bed and carefully picked up Emperor's Justice from on the floor beside his bedding. It was his most prized possession, a master-crafted plasma pistol he had stolen from a dead Arbites judge. Dion smiled as he remembered the old gak trying to arrest him, when Mod jumped him with his namesake- a modified lasgun- and blew his head off with an overcharged power cell. Dion managed to take it before Mod got his hands on it. His flashback was abruptly interrupted as Shady yelled up to him "Lucky, you might want to come see this!" He quickly leapt out of the bed, making sure not to wake Vara -or was it Ana, he couldn't remember- and ran out of the door. He saw Vara holding her autopistol so he knew who was inside.

"What is it Shady?"

"Look up there" Shady said pointing toward the Governor's Palace.

A bright light was steadily growing above the city. "So, what's you're point?"

With a grim look Shady said, "The sun rises behind us."

"Then what the gak is tha-" That was all that left Dion's mouth before the ground around him was torn asunder by the orbital bombardment.
* * *

Dark Apostle Xerrus grinned as the long range lances on the Hellfire fired upon the unsuspecting followers of the Corpse-Emperor. He stood resplendent in his ancient power armor, daemonic faces masterfully carved onto his breastplate where a winged skull once was, nearly ten thousand years ago. His helmet bore four large curling horns, with symbols of the Dark Gods carved into each one, and with an eight-pointed star resting upon his brow. His armor was the dark red of his Legion, with the burning skull emblazoned on his pauldron. In his right hand he bore his Crozius Arcanum, the symbol of his office and in his left he carried a bolt pistol "Why do you scream?" he said in a mocking tone, "You should be rejoicing, the Marines are here. The true Marines." He turned to the daemon bound to the weapons systems. It bared enormous fangs at him and began to emit a wail that would have driven a lesser man insane: or one who wasn't already. "Be quiet you pitiful waste of the Gods' energies." The wail continued. Calmly Xerrus lifted his Crozius and faster than the eye could follow stabbed it into the creature's eye. "That will teach you to obey your superiors." With its remaining three eyes it glared evilly at the receding figure of the Apostle. "Transmit to all ships." The transmission daemon began to click in response to his words. "All Word Bearers are to descend upon the capital in 1 hour." Laughing, he added "Don't forget to load your boltguns, some must have survived." With a final flourish of his human hide cloak he boldly strode to the teleporter on the command deck saying "Prepare all units for deployment. Let us show the Imperial fools who are the real powers in this galaxy."

A sudden feeling like being torn apart agonizingly crept throughout Xerrus' body as he was transported through the warp onto the decimated world. It felt as though a thousand needles pierced him while being peeled apart. His nervous system cried out in pain and Xerrus reveled in it, the energy of the ruinous powers permeating the space around him for infinite distances. It was pain but it was a good pain, his survival showing his gods' favor. Daemonic voices babbled incoherently in his head threatening to shatter his will, but he was stronger than they and with contemptuous ease ejected the intruders from his mind. Then, as quickly as it began the teleportation ritual was complete and the Apostle was standing in front of the ruined Imperial Palace. He began to slowly walk toward it relishing the thought of finishing off the survivors, their warm lifeblood being spilled across the floor. He could almost hear their screams as they died. Xerrus nimbly leapt over a ruined column lying in the street before him, the remains of an Imperial Aquila strewn across the ground. How symbolic, he thought, where we go the Imperium falls. With one last loathing look he began to resume his march upon the Palace, listening as his fellow Marines landed in the city around him.

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “The current system of servitude is barbaric and inadequate for today's generation. We appeal to the leaders of both the Imperium and the Coalition of Hateful Assholes and Organised Sin to seek to change this for the betterment of all its citizens”

Lorgar: “Guess there was one plot thread we forgot to erase ...” Mortarion nods in agreement, while Ahriman looks on suspiciously.

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “We feel trapped, we feel oppressed. And we urge our governments to release us from these metal boxes-”

Lorgar: “Oh shi-”

Firraveus Carron: Leaping to his feet. “METAL BOXES?!?METAL BOXES!!!THEY RIDE IN METAL BOXES!!!”

-Labor Unions

All credit goes to Lastie on Warseer, for writing Primarchs (available in a 647 page Microsoft Word document)

Last edited by BloodAngelsfan; 09-13-09 at 12:57 AM.
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post #2 of 30 (permalink) Old 08-05-09, 04:00 AM
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Great short story, I'd love to read more, no critisisms sorry, it's just perfect!

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post #3 of 30 (permalink) Old 08-05-09, 11:47 AM
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You know how to write a story and I like it... But I might suggest dividing your story into paragraphs to make it easier for readers...
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post #4 of 30 (permalink) Old 08-05-09, 03:45 PM Thread Starter
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Thank you for your input, and I will follow up on your advice

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “The current system of servitude is barbaric and inadequate for today's generation. We appeal to the leaders of both the Imperium and the Coalition of Hateful Assholes and Organised Sin to seek to change this for the betterment of all its citizens”

Lorgar: “Guess there was one plot thread we forgot to erase ...” Mortarion nods in agreement, while Ahriman looks on suspiciously.

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “We feel trapped, we feel oppressed. And we urge our governments to release us from these metal boxes-”

Lorgar: “Oh shi-”

Firraveus Carron: Leaping to his feet. “METAL BOXES?!?METAL BOXES!!!THEY RIDE IN METAL BOXES!!!”

-Labor Unions

All credit goes to Lastie on Warseer, for writing Primarchs (available in a 647 page Microsoft Word document)
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post #5 of 30 (permalink) Old 08-06-09, 05:11 AM Thread Starter
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Okay, just wrote next portion of the story, (almost an eighth of the way done!) Note: this portion is very dialog heavy, also read first post again if you are confused as to why this has IG.

One. He carefully peered into his scope, aligning the crosshairs over the target with pinpoint accuracy as he pulled the trigger. Two. With but a slight movement he found another target and fired directly at its head. Three. With expert skill he began to focus in on another figure. He let out his breath slowly and-

"Hey gak for brains!"

With an exasperated sigh Ellothar Worlic turned away from the sniping range aboard the Emperor's Wrath and glared at his friend from across the corridor.

"Commisar Hard-Ass has ordered us all to the meeting hall"

Worlic stared at Izarius "What for? Is he finally going to rebuke you for the constant insults?"

"Hah, you wish. He didn't give any details just told us all to get over there in 30 minutes"

Worlic continued to stare "When did he tell you this?"

Izarius laughed as he responded "An hour ago."

Worlic began to break into a run, his thin legs carrying him across the deck with all haste. Izarius may be strange but he was right about one thing; Commisar Brogun didn't accept any excuses and gave no pity. With how harsh the Commisar was, not following an order was almost a guarantee to a penal colony. Frankly, he preferred being with the Pridian 5th; with his slight figure and flowing hair he wouldn't last long in a penal colony. It never ceased to amaze him that Izarius was still around for all the fun he made of Brogun and his insubordination. He willed his legs to go faster as he sped down the long metal corridors of the vast starship. Praising the Emperor he entered the meeting hall near the regiment's quarters and tried to remain unnoticed as he passed through the doorway. Izarius boisterously entered behind him. The Commisar stood in the far corner of the hall, his steely, cold eyes passing over the assembled Guardsmen. Colonel Aram Krofman continued with his oration, speaking in a respectful tone that was the reason most of the regiment liked him.

"We received a message via astropath from the planet Reghaard V. It has caused much concern with the general as the planet is vital to supplying the surrounding systems."

A pale, skeletal figure came forth, his pallid, waxy skin sagging around his arms. He stood in the center of the room and began to repeat the message.

+This is Governor Marus of Reghaard V requesting immediate assistance from nearby military personnel. The planet has been invaded; we have a possible moral threat. I repeat, we have a possible moral…. What was that? +
An agonized wail sounded that instilled fear in the men, followed by harsh laughter.
+This, is our world now+

Silence filled the room as the Guardsmen of the Pridian 5th dwelled on the message, unable to shake a feeling of unease when they thought of that last statement. Much to Worlics dismay, Izarius spoke up.

"As I wasn't born yesterday, I'm going to assume that the higher-ups want us to go and do the dirty work."

Colonel Krofman dryly stated "Your powers of observation astound me. However did you figure that out?"

"Because the General's a ball-less gak."

The Commisar bristled at that, seemingly eager to punish Izarius, but remained silent.

"Yeah well that 'ball-less gak' has ordered us to check it out, we'll be entering the warp in one hour, go prepare yourselves.

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “The current system of servitude is barbaric and inadequate for today's generation. We appeal to the leaders of both the Imperium and the Coalition of Hateful Assholes and Organised Sin to seek to change this for the betterment of all its citizens”

Lorgar: “Guess there was one plot thread we forgot to erase ...” Mortarion nods in agreement, while Ahriman looks on suspiciously.

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “We feel trapped, we feel oppressed. And we urge our governments to release us from these metal boxes-”

Lorgar: “Oh shi-”

Firraveus Carron: Leaping to his feet. “METAL BOXES?!?METAL BOXES!!!THEY RIDE IN METAL BOXES!!!”

-Labor Unions

All credit goes to Lastie on Warseer, for writing Primarchs (available in a 647 page Microsoft Word document)

Last edited by BloodAngelsfan; 08-06-09 at 06:11 AM.
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The first bit was pretty good, though as waltzmelancholy_07 already stated, a bit blocky and hard to concentrate.

The second was entertaining as well as being quite humorous. The first paragraph is written really well, and instantly grabs a readers attention. The paragraphing is also better. All in all, good work BloodAngelsFan! PM me if you post some more, as i'd like to read more. + rep mate!

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post #7 of 30 (permalink) Old 08-06-09, 02:15 PM
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I liked it... And I have to agree with Crimson fist about the humor... Nicely done...

Last edited by waltzmelancholy_07; 08-06-09 at 03:33 PM.
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post #8 of 30 (permalink) Old 08-06-09, 02:34 PM Thread Starter
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Edited first portion

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “The current system of servitude is barbaric and inadequate for today's generation. We appeal to the leaders of both the Imperium and the Coalition of Hateful Assholes and Organised Sin to seek to change this for the betterment of all its citizens”

Lorgar: “Guess there was one plot thread we forgot to erase ...” Mortarion nods in agreement, while Ahriman looks on suspiciously.

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “We feel trapped, we feel oppressed. And we urge our governments to release us from these metal boxes-”

Lorgar: “Oh shi-”

Firraveus Carron: Leaping to his feet. “METAL BOXES?!?METAL BOXES!!!THEY RIDE IN METAL BOXES!!!”

-Labor Unions

All credit goes to Lastie on Warseer, for writing Primarchs (available in a 647 page Microsoft Word document)
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post #9 of 30 (permalink) Old 08-06-09, 06:47 PM Thread Starter
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Here's the next portion of the story.

As Worlic strode to his chambers, he began to admire the artistry that surrounded him. Rushing through the chambers and corridors he had not had the time to examine the statues of saints that lined the hallways, or the massive mural of the Emperor by the sniping range. He calmly retrieved his Mars pattern long-las that he had dropped in his haste. A feeling of serenity settled over Worlic as he returned to the regiment's barracks and strapped into the metal couch located at the back of his room. One by one the members of his squad filed in behind him. There was Izarius, followed by Konrad, Flowe, Kith, Rofar and the new guy Crill.

Izarius stood around six feet tall, with a strong build and tightly cropped brown hair. 'Lefty' as Konrad was known, was in direct contrast, he was five feet tall with a mane of golden hair that hung below his shoulders which he carefully brushed out of his eyes with his bionic right hand. He had lost his real hand when they were defending an Imperial settlement, an Ork launched itself through the window of the building they were holed out in and began to swing around a jagged piece of metal with reckless abandon. Konrad had draped himself over its neck and was trying to choke it when it swung its 'choppa' and severed his hand, not to mention its own collarbone. He still found grim amusement when he thought of the Ork accidentally killing itself.

Flowe for the most part was average, he stood around five and a half feet in height, had brown hair. The only thing that made him different was his face; it was horribly scarred after a promethium tank exploded and seared away the skin above his shoulders. He had been attended to and had skin grafted onto his face, yet he was still disfigured. His eyes bulged out of their sockets and if one tried they could see the wet glistening muscles that moved them, writhing around with a sickening squelching noise. As well his jaw did not properly close and was partially open at all times. Worlic involuntarily shuddered as Flowe looked at him.

Kith and Rofar were twins, exactly alike in all physical aspects; However where Kith was quiet and withdrawn Rofar was loud and outgoing. Trying to be comical Izarius made them wear name tags everywhere they went. They had joined the regiment only a year ago but everyone respected them. Together they had killed little over ten Eldar with no assistance while stranded behind enemy lines.

Lastly was Crill, the new guy. No one really knew anything about him, he had been enlisted into the Guard less than a month ago, and this was going to be his first battle. Something about him reminded Worlic of himself, yet he couldn't quite say what.

+This is Colonel Krofman; we are to be entering the warp in 1 minute+

With a disturbed feeling in the pit of his stomach Worlic braced himself as the warp drives activated and they were propelled through the Immaterium. The ship began to groan as the Geller Field repelled the insanity of the warp. After what seemed an eternity the ship re-entered real space. Worlic heard Izarius laughing.

"What's so funny?"

With a beaming grin and a chuckle Izarius replied "The new guy shit himself."

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “The current system of servitude is barbaric and inadequate for today's generation. We appeal to the leaders of both the Imperium and the Coalition of Hateful Assholes and Organised Sin to seek to change this for the betterment of all its citizens”

Lorgar: “Guess there was one plot thread we forgot to erase ...” Mortarion nods in agreement, while Ahriman looks on suspiciously.

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “We feel trapped, we feel oppressed. And we urge our governments to release us from these metal boxes-”

Lorgar: “Oh shi-”

Firraveus Carron: Leaping to his feet. “METAL BOXES?!?METAL BOXES!!!THEY RIDE IN METAL BOXES!!!”

-Labor Unions

All credit goes to Lastie on Warseer, for writing Primarchs (available in a 647 page Microsoft Word document)
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post #10 of 30 (permalink) Old 09-13-09, 01:45 AM Thread Starter
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At long last I have resumed writing this story! As before feel free to criticize/comment etcetera.

An eerie mist had settled over the shattered remains of Cyran Hive. The ruins of mankind's creations lay strewn across the ground. Corpses lined the streets decaying and filling the city with their stench. Everywhere sigils were written on sundered walls in the blood of the innocent, sigils that seemed to writhe across the surfaces. Dark Apostle Xerrus walked toward the Imperial Temple, his new, gruesome trophies hanging from his belt by blood encrusted hair. The city was now a beautiful thing. A place devoted to the Ruinous Powers. Xerrus imagined the world being slowly corrupted, the followers of the Copse-Emperor finally seeing the truth; that their god was dead. He imagined legions of daemons outside the capital with him as their leader. He would lead a campaign and strike a blow to the Imperium from which it would never recover! He would become Warmaster and complete that which even Horus could not by claiming Terra for Chaos! Xerrus snapped out of his mental reverie as he heard a slight noise down an alley to his right. He bared his teeth in a predatory grin. With skill developed over centuries he silently crept through debris that cluttered the ground, focusing on finding his newest prey.

Through the gloom he could see the form of a woman, with a lean body and flowing blonde hair. One arm dangled uselessly at her side, the other was tightly clenching a laspistol, aiming it in front of her. It was a useless thing, the power cell was empty. A pity, thought Xerrus as he raised his Bolt Pistol, that the woman had no use of her arm; he had wanted his victim to put up a meager resistance.

"Dion? Shady? Is anyone there?"

As the woman obliviously stood there, Xerrus decided that a quick death was too merciful; after all she did have a weapon aimed at him. Xerrus lowered his aim and fired two quick shots at her legs. The mass-reactive rounds tore through the flesh and bone, blood pooled around the ragged stumps. He reveled in her terror as he stepped from the shadows of the alleyway with his Crozius in hand. Her screams echoed through the necropolis, cries of pain and fear. With surgical precision Xerrus severed her arms at the shoulders. Blood began to pulse out of the exposed arteries, meandering around the muscle tissue that hung loosely in the air. Her screams grew ever louder. Dropping his Crozius, Xerrus placed one hand firmly on what remained of her shoulders, and grasped the top of her head with the other. His hands began to slowly pull apart. The further his hands were apart the louder her screams. With a final tearing sound her head came clear of her neck. He dangled the head from his belt, the mouth left open in a perpetual scream with small traces of blood leaking from the corners. Leaving the alleyway, Dark Apostle Xerrus walked toward the Imperial Temple, his new, gruesome trophies hanging from his belt by blood encrusted hair.

* * *

With a tremendous report Xerrus entered the Imperial Temple, where his commanders stood attentively. The Temple was gargantuan, the vaulted ceilings soaring hundreds of feet over their heads. Frescoes depicting the "glory" of the Imperium were displayed at regular intervals on the northern and southern walls. In one it showed the Blood Angels Primarch, Sanguinius, standing triumphant over the bodies of 'heretics'. Xerrus disdainfully shot the image of the Primarch through the chest.

"Brothers, our enemies move against us. Several regiments of Imperial Guard have arrived to reclaim their 'precious' capital, along with two companies of Astartes. Vheel, I am ordering you to take half of our forces and cross the plains west of the city where the Marines are establishing a base camp. Fight off any forces sent towards us."

The sorcerer nodded his head in acknowledgement, the gems inlaid into his helmet reflecting the dim light in mesmerizing patterns.

"Vitios, set up the stolen artillery along the mountains near the eastern wall.. Wait for my signal to begin bombarding the enemy positions. Mitus, I want you to lead an assault on the flank of the Imperial Guard's camp, position yourself, along with five squads, a kilometer from the enemy position until the artillery falls silent, then charge in. Interitus will remain behind to defend the Palace."

"And what will you be doing, Xerrus?" asked Vitios in a deep, resonant voice.

"I will be overseeing the ritual."

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “The current system of servitude is barbaric and inadequate for today's generation. We appeal to the leaders of both the Imperium and the Coalition of Hateful Assholes and Organised Sin to seek to change this for the betterment of all its citizens”

Lorgar: “Guess there was one plot thread we forgot to erase ...” Mortarion nods in agreement, while Ahriman looks on suspiciously.

Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “We feel trapped, we feel oppressed. And we urge our governments to release us from these metal boxes-”

Lorgar: “Oh shi-”

Firraveus Carron: Leaping to his feet. “METAL BOXES?!?METAL BOXES!!!THEY RIDE IN METAL BOXES!!!”

-Labor Unions

All credit goes to Lastie on Warseer, for writing Primarchs (available in a 647 page Microsoft Word document)

Last edited by BloodAngelsfan; 09-17-09 at 01:15 AM.
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