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post #1 of 4 (permalink) Old 05-18-11, 06:54 AM Thread Starter
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Default Truth and Lies

Hi everyone,
this is a short story I made for 40k. This is my first attempt at this sort of thing so constructive criticism is welcomed . I might make additional parts to it too.
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Truth and Lies
Part 1
by Epidemius

Trooper Baelin ducked as a stubber round punched through the air, taking cover behind a cluster of rusted barrels and rocks. He raised his lasgun and fired a hail of las rounds at the open field before him. He didn’t have time to see if they made their marks before the stubber re-opened fire, spraying the area with a torrent of bullets. A few hit the unfortunate torso of a charging guardsman. Blood streamed across the ground as the guardsman died.
Baelin was breathing hard, almost too scared to move. He was reassured to see a group of approaching reinforcements, only to see them cut down by suppressive fire.
“Emperor help us, what kind of hell are they putting us through!” he said to himself.
“It is a pretty bloody firefight isn’t it?”
Baelin turned to see the face of a man.
“Thank the Emperor! Reinfor-” he stopped as he noticed the eight pointed star on his cheek, as well as the rifle butt coming straight for his face.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Baelin watched as a man stood in front of a group of soldiers, his battle brothers, the rank of commissar shown clearly about his form.
‘Soldiers of the Imperium… today we march upon the newly established hive of Helias. The once proud city of the Emperor has fallen to the dark clutches of Chaos. There is no hope for it now; even the innocents of the hive have strayed from the light. Our only solution to this now is utter annihilation, every trace of the city must be destroyed…’

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

‘Are you ready?’ said a soldier beside him, a look of fear and excitement on his face.
‘I guess so.’ Said Baelin, the view of the Helias on the horizon.

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

An explosion. Baelin clutched his arm, the dead remains of a guardsman at his feet. He fired into the cloud of dust around him as dark shapes moved about. Screams were thick in the air as the majority of his platoon was cut down in their tracks.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Baelin woke with a start, sweat heavy on his forehead. It was nightfall and all the signs of battle were absent. Including his fellow soldiers.
“Where is everyone?” he asked himself.
Then it suddenly occurred to him, “I’ve been left…”
Baelin trudged through the battlefield, not sure of where he was or where he was going. He was lost. No lights, it was pure darkness.
“Where is the moon?” he asked the sky. The planet had one moon, always visible, but not tonight. Why?
Baelin began to panic, it seemed as if the darkness was closing in around him. He couldn’t find his way, no matter how hard he tried.
What was that? He said in his mind. Followed… I’m being followed. Figures, shapes… everywhere, in the shadows. Coming… closer!’
He ran blindly through the night, his rampant paranoia taking control over his mind. At last, he came to a trench. He jumped down and lied against the wall. He panted heavily as his eyes darted around, trying to catch sight of what was there.
At last, he felt safe. He let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.
He stopped as the sound of labored breathing could be heard.
“Who… Who’s there?” he asked the darkness.
No answer.
Baelin reached around the gravel of the trench. Wrapping his fingers around something heavy, he carefully walked forward. Then he saw it. A man sat before him, eyes closed as he breathed heavily.
“Hello… loyalist scum.” He said.
Whack.
The sound rang through the trench as Baelin smacked the traitor with the object, sending him sprawling to the ground like a ragdoll.
Another man was behind him. Baelin swung madly at the darkness, hitting the figure on the head.
Baelin tied them up and set them on opposite sides of the trench. Backing up, he huddled against a wall.
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Baelin’s eyes snapped open as he heard whispering from the trench.
“Free me… free me and I will give you all that you desire…”
“Don’t listen to him! He’s nothing but a deceiver!”
Baelin’s lowered head looked at the gun in his hands. The smooth, cold steel reflected in the moonlight.
“Power, Baelin, power is what you desire, isn’t it?”
Baelin looked up, fear and pain in his eyes.
A wounded man sat to his left, blood coming profusely from his shoulder as he leaned against the wall of the trench.
“They left you, they have no use of you. Join me…”
Baelin looked slowly towards him. He could make out the dark outline of the figure and turned sharply away.
“No Baelin, don’t. The Emperor is still with us!”
He turned to his right. Making out the shape of a fellow guardsman, his features illuminated by the moon. The moon?
“Left to die…” said Baelin, turning his gaze towards the blank night sky. Where is the light coming from?
“No Baelin. Don’t listen…”
Baelin turned, facing the two others, his gaze shifted on the ground between them. He raised his gun. Hands trembling as he made his choice.
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A flash of light, as a las round went off in the trench. Baelin sunk down, arms and head lowered. Blood pooled in the trench… and Baelin fell, warmth leaving his body as the last breath of life escaped his lips. He died alone, not a soul in sight.
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The hot sun shown bright overhead as a group of guardsmen surveyed an open area.
“Sir! Over here!” said trooper Felix, eyes wide with fear as he stood over a trench.
“What’ve you found trooper?” inquired Sergeant Baltus.
“It’s… It’s him, sir.” He said as Baltus approached. He gazed over the trench.
There lay a guardsman, sprawled across the ground in a small pool of his own blood, a hole punched clean through his head.
“Baelin, you son of a *****, wandered off in the middle of the night and got yourself killed.” Said Baltus as he addressed the corpse. “Who do you think did it?”
Medical trooper Vare inspected the body. “It looks like it was suicide, sir.”
“Why would Baelin kill himself? The battle is still days away from starting.” Said Felix.
“I don’t know trooper… Baelin was never quite right…”

"In the embrace of great Nurgle, I am no longer afraid, for with His pestilential favour I have become that which I once most feared: Death."
-Kulvain Hestarius of the Death Guard

Last edited by Epidemius; 05-20-11 at 03:38 AM.
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post #2 of 4 (permalink) Old 05-18-11, 11:20 AM
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Not a bad start Epidemius.

If you want some constructive critique...

Quote:
The sound rang through the trench as Baelin smacked the traitor with the object, sending him sprawling to the ground like a ragdoll.
Another man was behind him. Baelin swung madly at the darkness, hitting the figure on the head.
Baelin tied them up and set them on opposite sides of the trench. Backing up, he huddled against a wall.
When writing a scene like this, there is no need to continuously start a new line. The new line method is only really necessary in dialogue. In action sequences like this, you can make larger paragraphs. As you write more, you`ll get a feel for what size paragraph feels right in these circumstances.

Of course there are many methods, as you can see in this very section of the forum. What matters is finding a style that you feel comfortable with. Read some other examples to get a feel of what appeals to you, and work off that.

Good luck, and I look forward to seeing more from you.


Nonsense is our Salvation

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post #3 of 4 (permalink) Old 05-19-11, 05:36 AM Thread Starter
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Serpion5 View Post
Not a bad start Epidemius.

If you want some constructive critique...



When writing a scene like this, there is no need to continuously start a new line. The new line method is only really necessary in dialogue. In action sequences like this, you can make larger paragraphs. As you write more, you`ll get a feel for what size paragraph feels right in these circumstances.

Of course there are many methods, as you can see in this very section of the forum. What matters is finding a style that you feel comfortable with. Read some other examples to get a feel of what appeals to you, and work off that.

Good luck, and I look forward to seeing more from you.
thanks for the advice Serpion .

"In the embrace of great Nurgle, I am no longer afraid, for with His pestilential favour I have become that which I once most feared: Death."
-Kulvain Hestarius of the Death Guard
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post #4 of 4 (permalink) Old 05-20-11, 06:18 AM Thread Starter
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heres part two guys. I hope you enjoy it and any feedback/constructive criticism is welcome .

TRUTH AND LIES
Part 2

A light flickered overhead as the sound of footsteps filled the interrogation room. “Tell me… what did you see?” said a dark-haired man in full uniform, pacing slowly back and forth across the room.
“I don’t know what I saw… Th-They told us... told us th-that, He’s come.” Said a guardsman in the center of the room, head bowed and tied to a chair as the single light overhead illuminated his form.
“Damn it soldier, I need answers! Not this damn rambling!” said the man as he hit the restricted soldier across the face. “Who is ‘They’?”
The soldier said nothing.
“ANSWER ME!” said the man, anger clear in his expression.
“...It happened a few days ago…”
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Trooper Caspin leaned back against a wall, gazing upwards as he watched the drop ships return to the hazy sky above. “There they go.” He said, waving.
“Some of us probably won’t see them again.” Said a young soldier beside him, a touch of sadness in his voice.
“Don’t be so pessimistic. Keep on your toes and you’ll be fine.” Said Caspin cheerfully, readying his lasgun. He stared down the sights and aimed at the side of a building, tapping the trigger to kill an imaginary enemy.
“I guess your right.” Replied the trooper.
“What’s your name?” asked Caspin.
“Call me Ben.” He replied as the two men shook hands.

“Alright men! Pay attention!” shouted a grizzled sergeant, his face was scarred from innumerable battles. “I’d like you to meet Palicis, our newest member of platoon-”
The rest of Sergeant Baiyler’s introduction was lost to Caspin; he quickly had lost interest and resumed fiddling with his gun.
“Sergeant Baiyler’s a good fighter, but when it comes to public speaking he sure is dry.” He whispered aside to the other guardsman.
“What was that Caspin?” asked Baiyler, his hard gaze directed straight towards him.
“Nothing sir.” Replied Caspin.
“Well since you can’t seem to pay attention, then maybe you and your friend there should show Palicis here around?”
“Yes, sir.” Said the two unlucky guardsmen.
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“Then what happened?” said the man, his cold stare directed at his captive.
“We showed him around, taught him our strategies and skills…”
“And?” said the man, growing impatient.
“Then the battle came… we were hit hard, nowhere to run…”
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An explosion ripped threw a line of cover. Blowing sand, debris, and guardsmen alike high into the air.
“Take out that missile launcher emplacement!” Yelled Baiyler. He ducked and rolled across the ground as las shots flew in his direction. The small platoon was pinned in the cover of the city, an unrelenting horde of renegades unloaded shot after shot at them in a vast torrent of projectiles.
Trooper Caspin fired into the traitor’s ranks, but for every hole in their offence he made, it simply seemed to refill itself. It was almost hopeless. Charred and maimed bodies were strewn all around as he, Palicis, and Ben all fought for their lives behind a shattered wall section. Caspin wiped the sweat from his brow, he couldn’t tell if it came from the heat, or the state of the situation at hand.
“They just keep coming!” shouted one of the guardsmen in despair as he fired into the swarm.
A missile flew through the air and smashed into a building, causing the already unstable structure to topple over in a massive cloud of dust and debris. The screams of dying guardsmen could be heard all around as they were picked off in the confusion.
“Caspin!” shouted sergeant Baiyler as he fired at into the dust-cloud. “Get back to base and warn them! This attack is big enough to take the entire HQ out if we’re unprepared!”
“We have to get out of here!” yelled Caspin to Ben and Palicis over the noise of battle. “Let’s go!”
Ben sat against the wall, a look of fear on his face. Caspin grabbed him and hoisted him to his feet.
“Follow me! I know a way to get around them! I was on a scouting team before this!” shouted Palicis. The men crawled across the sand as bullets whizzed overhead, some narrowly missing their skulls. They got up to take a breath when the reached the relative safety of a building.
“That was close.” Said Caspin, trying to catch his breath.
“Yeah, too close.” Added Ben.
“This way.” Said Palicis, gesturing towards the lower city.

About twenty minutes later, the men found themselves wandering in the bad side of town. Palicis lead the way as Caspin and Ben followed close behind.
“Hey Palicis?” inquired Ben. “Which way did you say we were going?”
No response.
“Palicis?”
Palicis turned and gave a friendly smile, “We’re going to base.”
“Alright, but I don’t remember HQ being this way.” Questioned Ben further.
“Come to think of it, he’s right. I don’t remember it being this way either.” Added Caspin.
“It’s a shortcut.” Replied Palicis. “I used it all the time on my old patrols.”
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“Where did he take you?”
The captive man sat still, silently and motionlessly refusing to speak.
“Come now, Caspin. You’re a good soldier. You can tell me anything. And if you don’t…” The interrogator lifted a knife into the air so that Caspin could see it. “I’ll make you talk.” As he finished he slammed the knife into the armrest inches from Caspin’s tied down hand.
Caspin’s head lifted, eyes closed. “He took us further…”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After further walking, Caspin and Ben began to have further doubts.
“I really don’t think we’re heading the right way, Palicis. You said this was a shortcut; it would’ve been faster to go the other way. We need to get to base as quickly as we can, they need to be warned.”
Palicis stopped.
“Palicis.”
No answer.
“Palicis!”
“Shut up.” Palicis said slowly, a new tone in his voice.
“What the hell did you just say to me?” Said Caspin, approaching Palicis.
Palicis turned quick as lightning, pressing a knife to Caspin’s neck.
“What do you think you’re doing?! ”he shouted, being careful of the knife at his throat.
Ben quickly raised his lasgun and pointed it at Palicis, “Drop the weapon!” he ordered.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to be giving orders.” Said Palicis, turning his head slightly to Ben, careful not to keep his attention from Caspin.
Ben looked around as cloaked figures detached from the shadows of the buildings. All of them raised autoguns and pointed them at Ben and Caspin.
Palicis grabbed his cheek and ripped the skin off his face in a quick clean motion. There wasn’t any blood; a layer of fresh skin lay underneath. His face was fiendish and pale, he had a chaos star on his cheek and tattooed, blue triangles coming downwards and from the sides of his eyes. Palicis grinned.
“You… You son of a bitch!” yelled Caspin angrily, causing the knife to prick his neck. “You’re one of them!”
“Yes, Caspin. I’ve always been one of them.” Palicis turned. “Brothers!” He shouted, motioning to the cultist surrounding him as he threw off his helmet. “The time has come!”
“Deo noster nascet!” yelled the cultists as the two terrified guardsmen were stripped of their guns and lead away in fetters.
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“Where did they take you?” asked the interrogator.
“They took us deeper into the lower city…”
“Where?”
“We were lead into a factory…”
“What was the name?”
“I… I can’t remember… that damned chanting, it won’t leave my head… Deo noster nascet, deo noster nascet…” Caspin trailed off into mumbling as the chant took away his focus.
“Focus, Caspin!” the interrogator commanded. “What was there?!”
“We were taken into a dark cavern… it winded deeper and deeper into the ground. I don’t think I’ve ever been that far below the surface.” Said Caspin, eyes closed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caspin and Ben were lead through an endless darkness, waiting fearfully for whatever torment their captors planned for them. They didn’t dare ask.
At last they stopped before a tall arched door. It stood there in grotesque splendor, it was inlaid with the flayed bodies of unrecognizable people and although they seemed long dead, blood ran freely from their skinless bodies. Their eyeless expressions were twisted visages of horror and pain.
The mouths all opened in perfect synchronization.
“…What is the password, fleshling…”
This was almost too much for poor Ben, he tried to flee but was instantly tackled by two nearby guards. Caspin closed his eyes as to not see the horror that lay before him, a cold chill ran down his spine.
A cultist stepped up to the door. “The password is ‘Flesh and Blood’.”
Silence was the only response the door gave. Suddenly, in quick jerky motions, one of the bodies partially detached itself from the wall and faced the cultist.
“…Incorrect!” It said angrily. The body put its arms to the wall as bracing and spewed a stream of boiling blood from its distended mouth. The cultist covered his face in his cloak and, quick as a startled cat, lunged backwards, narrowly escaping his death.
“The gatekeeper must have changed the password again.” Said the cultist in anger and frustration to his teammates.
“Try again, use the override code.” Ordered Palicis.
The cultist warily re-approached the door. “Deo noster nascet.”
The body snapped back into place and the door opened quickly.
“Make haste, fleshlings…” The gatekeeper said as a farewell.
The group soon found themselves walking down a torch-lit hallway, completely made of stone. All around the bodies of flayed victims were held on the walls. Their heads were bowed and their arms nailed above them.
These bastards sure have a thing for dead bodies… thought Caspin nervously to himself. He looked to Ben, the poor man had his eyes closed and was shaking all over.
The bodies’ heads rose as they stepped into the hall, a mouth the only feature upon their faces. They began to sing. As they sung, Caspin too closed his eyes in fear.

Our master seethes,
Our master waits,
Our master breathes,
Our master hates.


The song drained their spirits, filling the two guardsmen with maddening dread. They recited the song ad infinitum. It only stopped when they stepped outside of the hall.
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The interrogator had the slightest look of fear on his face as Caspin finished talking. It quickly faded. “You’re insane.” He said.
Calmly, and without even opening his eyes, he continued his story.
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“We have arrived!” shouted Palicis in insane excitement as they entered a large room.
“Why are we here?” demanded Caspin.
“Take them to the altar.” Said Palicis to his fellows as he walked away.
“Where are you taking us you bastard!” shouted Caspin after him as cultists dragged them away. “Answer me!”
“Caspin.” interjected Ben.
Caspin turned to face him.
“There’s nothing we can do.” He continued, sadness in his eyes.
Caspin stopped yelling, his spirit broken. “… The emperor has abandoned us…”
The two were taken to a large platform, two stone slabs were laid beside each other and a podium rose above them all. A massive chained creature sat behind the podium. Clad in robes and bandages, it directed its mouthless head on the approaching mortals, focusing its one eye on Caspin and Ben.
Ben and Caspin’s fetters were removed and they were laid on the slabs. the cultists slowly backed away and began a silent prayer. The monstrosity put out a pair of long spindly arms and clutched the podium. Another pair followed and was raised to head-level, its palms opened to reveal mouths.
Ben and Caspin closed their eyes as the horror began its incantation.

Ben and Caspin waited in terror. They were too afraid to even move.
Finally, Caspin accepted defeat. He felt like crying, he was going to die at the hands of these monsters and there wasn’t anything he could do to save Ben or himself. He put his hands to his sides and awaited his fate.
Suddenly, Caspin noticed a bulge on his belt. He reached stealthily for the object, it was a grenade.
I forgot all about you! He thought with excitement and hope. He looked to his boot. They also forgot about my combat knife, he thought to himself as his saw the glint of the hilt.
Ben.” Whispered Caspin. “Ben. Over here.
Ben turned his gaze to Caspin. He was surprised to see a grenade in his hand.
On the count of three okay?” Caspin held the grenade close as he raised his hand in a countdown. The cultists were too busy to notice what was about to happen.
As quickly as he could, Caspin threw the grenade at the creature, it stopped its incantation as the object exploded and the monster screeched in pain and confusion.
“Run!” yelled Caspin, drawing a combat blade as he and Ben pushed through the distracted cultists and made for the exit.
We’re going to make it! He thought in hope. Caspin turned his head and looked back, the light of hope was quickly blown out. The cultists were closing on them. Fast.
“Run ahead Ben! I’ll hold them off!” he thrust with his blade as a cultist came running up to him, the knife buried itself in his chest and he fell to the floor, dead. Caspin slashed and stabbed at the assailants as they slowly overpowered him.
“RUN!” he yelled at Ben, who refused to move. “RUN! DAMNIT, RUN!”
Regretfully, Ben ran. He ran and never looked back.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That doesn’t explain how you escaped. We found you out wandering the streets, how could you have possibly escaped?”
“I suppose fate favored me… I killed them.”
“Impossible.”
“I killed them.” Repeated Caspin.
There was a moment of silence.
“Wait just a minute. During your entire story, everyone you have mentioned was by last name, except for Ben… What was his real name?”
“… His real name…” said Caspin slowly. “His real name… was Baelin…”
The interrogator looked surprised as he remembered the corpse found days ago, his tags had said his name was Baelin, but the rest was scratched out, including first name and platoon number.
“What did they tell you?” he questioned further.
Caspin chuckled.
“Answer me.” He said with gritted teeth.
“…Your blood is his wine,
Your flesh his bread,
Run now fools,
You’ll soon be dead…”
“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!” the interrogator yelled.
Caspin laughed.
“It means… Deo noster nascet!”
Caspin’s eyes snapped open, he gazed upwards at the interrogator with eyes the color of flowing blood.
The interrogator stood with horror. He quickly reached for a vox link on a nearby table.
He didn’t have time. Caspin snapped out of his constraints with supernatural power, his jaw distended and he bit hard into the interrogators throat. Blood streamed and spattered to the floor. There was only the look of horror left on his face as he ripped the flesh off in a spray of blood. The interrogator dropped and blood pooled around him.
Caspin crouched and put his mouth close to his ear. “Our lord is born.”
The interrogator didn’t hear, he had already died.
Caspin walked into the hallway and laughed to himself.

“Your master is now here
Your master no longer waits,
Your master is coming near,
Your master always hates…”

"In the embrace of great Nurgle, I am no longer afraid, for with His pestilential favour I have become that which I once most feared: Death."
-Kulvain Hestarius of the Death Guard

Last edited by Epidemius; 05-20-11 at 06:27 AM.
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