Seeds of Destruction
I was looking through some old documents, on a bit of a deleting spree, when I came across a story I had written one night in 5th grade. It is not of the highest quality by any means, but I thought it might be fun to see how people responded (It was supposed to be the basis for a longer story that I never continued due to my near-nonexistent 5th grade attention span.
The fools. The blasted fools. As sunlight weakly filtered through the stone windows into the bleak, underground chamber, the Council began making their plans.
"We must strike now! Argrist's defenses are lacking because of the war in the south and the city is open to attack. It will be an opportunity to end this before any more of our men must lose their lives." He could not tell who had spoken, as the Council always kept their faces hidden to prevent betrayal.
He chuckled in spite of himself.
"Well I respect your opinion I heartily believe that we must wait. The war will not end soon, and we must build up our stores before we risk a frontal assault on the Capital."
"Then send in Assassins! While we wait and recuperate from the failure at Gelden, the Sovereign has more time to possibly recall the Ari'Shidai and the House Guard! Just think of -"
He interrupted the man's rant, "Brothers, Sisters, I believe that you are all missing a very relevant factor to this all. Yes, the Ari'Shidai or House Guard may return, but that is a small threat. There is a much more dangerous threat to the Sons of the Lokaari and the rebellion; one you may not have thought much about. The Cori'mah."
The initial speaker burst out into raucous laughter, "What? What have we to fear from the 'Terrors of the West'? Hah! We have more to fear from the werfron beetles that live in the forests, or a simple cold than from those pansies! What could they possibly do?"
He cocked his eyebrow in amusement, the man was so naïve. "You highly underestimate them and their prowess on the battlefield, Brother. They halted the armies of Regrad at Cleft Skull Pass, and defeated the army of the Drho'Qirani Empire in the Aaricraal Desert."
"Yes, and Old Hrarn the Sightless flew to the Golden City on a winged horse! Hah! Again I say, what could they possibly do?"
He studied those around him for a moment, basking in his superiority. They were all so idiotic, standing there in their red robes, with their foolish Lokaari Masks and their golden emblems. They stared at him, mistaking his silence as him admitting defeat. Even through the mask he could see the speaker's satisfaction written plainly across his face. A slight beard showed beneath the face of Segreistan, the Lokaari of War, and triumph gleamed in his bronze-colored eyes. Just as the fool was about to speak, He replied.
Even as the word left his mouth he was aware of the blue-clad warriors bursting in through the windows and bringing to bear their signature weapons that they were named for, the Cori'mah, the Death Bringers. In the time it took him to blink, every Council member was dead, blood seemingly seeping from their skin as it leaked out of nearly invisible wounds. It was said that the Cori'mah's blades were so sharp and so finely wielded that the cuts they made could not be seen, and could cut a man in half before he even began to bleed. Governor Moorizan walked forward and slowly lifted the mask off of the Son of the Lokaari who had so mocked the Terrors of the West. The symbol of Segreistan was carved onto its forehead, two spears crossed over a third. He spit on the corpse in contempt for the man's foolishness and began to exit the chamber. As he gazed back at the fallen Council of the Lokaari he thought to himself, those blasted fools.
The world became an explosion of sound. Screams filled the air as swords and spears were driven through bare human flesh. Warm, thick fluid engulfed everything and muffled the sound. Men fell across the encampment as the ambush was repelled by Lord-General Karimak Lorand's army. A cry rang out across the battlefield, and then all became darkness.
Hours later, after the assailants were defeated, the whole frontline of the counteroffensive crowded around the child the cry had come from. It was half-buried beneath the body of its mother, General Noirelle Aran, and was coated in blood. The General's husband, Captain Hongrus Aran, quickly washed the child in water gathered from the camp reservoir. What he saw terrified and disgusted him more than the sight of his dead wife. There, emblazoned on his son's head in the blood of a Sovereign general were two spears, crossed over a third.
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!!!”
All credit goes to Lastie on Warseer, for writing Primarchs (available in a 647 page Microsoft Word document)