I took a few moments to read your story. It has a lot to offer and was really pretty good. The presentation of the story reminds me of someone who started on this site with an 8,000 word story with no spacing at all. That someone is me. I had to learn a lot and am still learning.
This is an example of how you may want to space your work so it is easier to read. The huge sections make it very difficult to read and hard to stay focused in.
Also take the time to read through your work and see if it flows well. If it does not flow well to you, it will not flow well to the reader. What is the name of the main charecter? I may have missed it. Okay, these were some ideas that may help.
[quote=Smokes;1034942]The question of right, wrong and faith entered her mind. It wasn't just about that; it was also about the ambiguity that she found herself in.
She had believed in the Imperial Cult and the Ecclesiarchy’s teachings throughout her entire life up to this point. Her years of service to the Emperor’s Holy Orders of the Inquisition and the Calixian Conclave had simply reinforced the zealotry that used to flow through her like a fire.
Her master was just as hard lined as a Monodomninant could be and she had inherited his beliefs. How many people had she killed throughout her career? How many heretics were actually deserving of their punishment?
The Emperor didn’t protect her but he didn’t betray her either. He is, was and has been dead for thousands of years. She couldn’t get that heresy out of her consciousness but who was judging her? Where were her brother and sister Inquisitors? Those of more self-imposed and supposed pure beliefs who would send her to the same fires that she had used to burn hundreds of thousands of heretics?
The horrible reality that the Emperor was a corpse was dawning as she lay helpless in a sunlit room on some unknown world. The last thing she remembered was losing her right arm to Sidaslannet’iiha, the Whisperer of the Quorum, the Shadow over the Manses, Whisperer in the Shadows, a Slaaneshi Daemonette that had corrupted every single soul in the Shadow Manses on Sinophia Magna just before she banished the perverse monstrosity back to the warp.
She now remembered her agents that had served alongside her for countless years. The investigation into that nameless daemonic cult had taken years because they had hunted the heretics across the sector. Her interrogator, Bersmussen, finally caught a lead and discovered the taint of corruption on the fallen jewel of the Periphery sub-sector, Sinophia Magna. He was such a promising agent and brilliant interrogator who reminded her of a younger self.
Dren-Mel, Dregitti, Lemela…they were all dead. Her Sororitas bodyguards protected her and fell while being hunted by the daemon through the dark streets of the Manses.
Bersmussen was the first to fall as they entered the area; he had been lured into the alleyways by the whispering lies and deceit of the daemonette only to be eviscerated and skinned alive. Dren-Mel and Dregitti fought back as Lemela held her own against the waves of cultists that bombarded them but they were finally overpowered by sheer numbers.
She had watched as Lemela was violated and defiled by the horde before being eaten like a piece of meat thrown to the hungry masses. Dren-Mel and Dregitti had bought her precious seconds; she could only guess their fates.
Sarkoz and the other Witch-Finders arrived with flame, the pyre and holy wrath but it too was drowned by the sheer horror and thousands of pleasure ridden corpses. The daemonette appeared in the middle of the four milliseconds before it began its dance of perverse elegance and death.
The multiple kill-teams of the former Scintillan 23rd were brushed aside like play things, their training and heavy firepower was no match for the unholy speed and agility of the daemon.
She had found herself trapped by the daemonette in one of the many temples that were used in their debased rituals. Her bodyguards had performed admirably and proved to be a match for a few seconds against the daemonic foe but their deaths had been excruciating.
She remembered watching in horror as the thing rammed its pincer-like growth through one of the Sister’s abdomens and simultaneously wrapped its whip like tongue around the face of the other. The spiked tongue tore out her eyes and removed the flesh from the struggling Sister’s skin.
It was in that moment she had acted and as the creature was busy dispatching them she landed the killing blow, cutting the head off the creature, only to find her sword trapped in the flesh of the creature after a second strike. With one last horrific display of strength it tore her right arm completely from the socket, disemboweled her with frightening speed and fell into a puddle of gore that covered the remains of her bodyguards. She remembered falling to her knees and crumpling into the wet flesh pile.