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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Welcome to the year's seventh

For those of you that are unfamiliar with HOES, here's how it works:

Each month, there will be a thread posted in the Original Works forum for that month's HOES competition. For those of you interested in entering, read the entry requirements, write a story that fits the chosen theme and post it as a reply to the competition thread by the deadline given. Each and every member of Heresy Online is more than welcome to compete, whether your entry is your first post or your thousandth. We welcome everyone to join the family of the Fan Fiction Forum.

Once the deadline has passed, a separate voting thread will be posted, where the readers and writers can post their votes for the top three stories. Points will be awarded (3 points for 1st, 2 for 2nd, and 1 for 3rd) for each vote cast, totalled at the closure of the voting window, and a winner will be announced. The winner will have his/her story added to the Winning HOES thread and be awarded the Lexicanum's Crest award for Fiction excellence!


The idea with the theme is that it should serve as the inspiration for your stories rather than a constraint. While creative thinking is most certainly encouraged, the theme should still be relevant to your finished story. The chosen theme can be applied within the WH40K, WHF, HH, and even your own completely original works (though keep in mind, this IS a Warhammer forum) but there will be no bias as to which setting is used for your story.

As far as the theme goes, please feel free with future competitions to contact me with your ideas/proposals, especially given that my creative juices may flow a bit differently than yours. All I ask is that you PM me your ideas rather than posting them into the official competition entry/voting threads to keep posts there relevant to the current competition.

Word Count

The official word count for this competition will be 1,000 words. There will be a 10% allowance in this limit, essentially giving you a 900-1,100 word range with which to tell your tale. This is non-negotiable. This is an Expeditious Story competition, not an Epic Story nor an Infinitesimal Story competition. If you are going to go over or under the 900-1,100 word limit, you need to rework your story. It is not fair to the other entrants if one does not abide by the rules. If you cannot, feel free to PM me with what you have and I'll give suggestions or ideas as to how to broaden or shorten your story.

Each entry must have a word count posted with it. Expect a reasonably cordial PM from me (and likely some responses in the competition thread) if you fail to adhere to this rule. The word count can be annotated either at the beginning or ending of your story, and does not need to include your title.

Without further ado...

The theme for this month's competition is:


Entries should be posted in this thread, along with any comments that the readers may want to give (and comments on stories are certainly encouraged in both the competition and voting threads!) 40K, 30K, WHF, and original universes are all permitted (please note, this excludes topics such as Halo, Star Wars, Forgotten Realms, or any other non-original and non-Warhammer settings). Keep in mind, comments are more than welcome! If you catch grammar or spelling errors, the writers are all more than free to edit their piece up until the close of the competition, and that final work will be the one considered for voting. Sharing your thoughts with the writers as they come up with their works is a great way to help us, as a FanFiction community, grow as a whole.

The deadline for entries is Midnight GMT, 31 July 2014
. Remember, getting your story submitted on 22nd will be just as considered by others as one submitted on 11th! Take as much time as you need to work on your piece! Any entries submitted past the deadline will not be considered in the competition, regardless of whether the voting thread is posted or not.

Additional Incentive
If simply being victorious over your comrades is not enough to possess you to write a story, there will be rep rewards granted to those that participate in the HOES Challenge.

Participation - 1 reputation points, everyone will receive this
3rd place - 2 reputation points
2nd place - 3 reputation points
1st place - 4 reputation points and Lexicanum's Crest

If you have any questions, feel free to ask in this thread.

Without further nonsense from me, let the writing begin!


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2,152 Posts
Of Verdurous Nature

Johnathon pushed forwards, on his feet. Nothing was wrong, really.

The world around him moved on, it pushed on forward alongside him. The leaves fell from the trees around him, dying, floating past on the summer breeze. Skyscrapers rested their sleepy heads on the pillows of clouds in the sky on all sides of the spherical background.

He looked down, seeing his pants. Brown, clean creased, the fold showing in front of his shins above his shoes.

His palm opened again, where gold glittered with alacrity. A pendant rested in his hand. Encased within, was a picture of his mother.

Everything else was in abeyance, during this traipse through the park. His blue eyes stared down into the portrait of his mother, seven years now lost. Helen Schaeffer. Had he spent enough time with her, had they had enough conversations? Did she die happy?

The portrait was encompassed by lines of purple and lavender, her favorite colors. She was in color, too. The lightly applied blush on her cheeks, soft. The blue eyes she had passed on to him. The brown curls of her hair.

She had given him everything he could have asked for, and more. The whole time he was trying to figure out his own life and then, before he could rightfully pay her back, she passed. People told him it was alright, that was she was happy just knowing her son was still alive in the world, living his own life.

He supposed it was normal for people, to think kindly, and warmly, of their mothers. But John swore, his was truly the epitome. She would run up to people, stop them in their tracks when they were looking down at their feet, looking sad, looking hurt. She always found a way to make them rethink their troubles. She presented herself with little fear, though he was sure she had just as many as the next person, inside.

He looked up again, his eyes following the tan stone path weaving its way through the verdant landscape. He was approaching something, some kind of social event. He smiled, eyes thinning, the corners of his lips pulling up, the lines his face catching the contagion, multiplying the expression.

It was a birthday party, for a little girl.

There were balloons, all bright. An enourmous cake laying half intact, and half obliterated, on one of the many picnic tables. Children, dozens he counted, running around.

His knees suddenly felt sore and weak, remembering what it was like to run everywhere when he wishes to move, without even noticing he was running. He wasn’t even thirty years old, but already in the past couple of years he’d picked up on his aging.

Everything the comedians had always joked about, his older relatives, people in movies, teachers. It was coming to embrace him. Tell-tale signs, slowly but surely, harbingers of his own death-to-come all too soon. His back was sore more often than not, his hearing wasnt what it used to be, his eyes…

He found himself stopped, watching the celebration. One of the little girls, wearing a white dress with furls, ran up to him exclaiming that it was her birthday.

At first, he was caught by surprise, not expecting anyone to run him, to speak to him, to involve him in their world. An excited smile lit up the girl’s face.

“It’s my birthday! It’s my birthday!” she exclaimed, laughing afterwards, as if he should come and join in the festivities.

She didn’t turn and run back afterwards, but stayed in front of him just smiling, waiting for him to react, he supposed.

She had light brown hair falling naturally into curls at the ends, and bright blue eyes that demanded interaction.

After a moment he said all he could think of, slipping the pendant back into his pocket.

“Well, happy birthday then! How old are you now?”

“Seven!” she giggled, not needing nearly as long to think of a response as himself.

Not seeming to care that he didn’t have another response yet, she continued for him.

“Why are you sad? It’s my birthday you know? My name’s Helena and I’m seven years old now. What’s your name?”

Johnathon turned his head slightly, looking away. His brows furrowed in perplexity. His heartbeat, maybe, changed slightly for a moment.

“My name is John, John Schaeffer. Nice to meet you, Heleena.”

Her eyes lit up like he had something awe inspiring. She reached up to shake his hand, eager to meet a stranger. Around her wrist was a multitude of bracelets, all various hues of purple. Her cheeks had some rose under them when she smiled.

He went to shake her hand slowly, when a woman called out her name, approaching quickly. He pulled his hand back.

“Helena, come back to the tables sweetheart.” The woman turned the girl around, leading her back the way she came. The woman smiled at Jonathan briefly over her shoulder, but he could see the mistrust in her eyes, if barely for a moment.

He hurried to return to his walking, so as not to look even stranger. His mind raced.

He heard a child yell out the woman’s name behind him.

“Mrs. Schaeffer! Can I have more cake?”

His eyes widened, but he felt like a fool. It was a common enough last name.

A safe distance now, he turned, spotting Heleena easily in her white dress. His fingers, clutched the pendant in his pocket. He pulled it out again, hastily flipping it open. He felt he might accidentally crush the tiny frame, so he loosened his grip, breathing.

Word Count: 936

Entropy Fetishist
4,224 Posts
Nicely open-ended, unxpekted. I could see it panning out in a number of different ways, if you continued it. Not much (read: pretty much anything) binding it to 40k, but then, I suppose, that's not a mandatory part of the competition.

About half done with my entry, since I have, after all, resolved to return to the forum that birthed my involvement on this site. Well, more than half done in terms of word count but less than half done in terms of the story I want to tell, so... idea and execution are going to have to have a knife-fight in the parking lot at dawn if I want to fit this in under 1100 words, and both are going to come away from it limping at the very least.

visit roleplay threads!
2,152 Posts
Nicely open-ended, unxpekted. I could see it panning out in a number of different ways, if you continued it. Not much (read: pretty much anything) binding it to 40k, but then, I suppose, that's not a mandatory part of the competition.

About half done with my entry, since I have, after all, resolved to return to the forum that birthed my involvement on this site. Wel, more than half done in terms of word count but less than half done in terms of the story I want to tell, so... idea and execution are going to have to have a knife-fight in the parking lot at dawn if I want to fit this in under 1100 words, and both are going to come away from it limping at the very least.
haha yeah its not 40k at all, original universe, we'll go with that.

Fitting the idea into the word count is always the hardest part, but I like the way you describe it lol

623 Posts
Tried to do a non-combat story, but it failed :p. I will try again next month.

The Fire of One

Word Count: 1098

Bork’an’Shas’O’Y’Suam bellowed over the wailing klaxons, the image feeds linked to his crisis suit only picking up the flash of spinning lights inside the Manta Hangar Bay. “Shas’la, my most trusted friends out of all of the fire caste! What we accomplish this night will determine the final fate of a colony!”

The Manta Gunship trembled with enough force to throw the fire caste commander from his chair had his harness not been set in place. Over the channels, the screams of the ground infantry overwhelmed everything save the personal communications as the hangar quickly filled with stoked flames. The ship was going down, but to fall from the atmosphere of a world took a long time. Time enough for Y’Suam to gather his surviving warriors, his bond mates and most trusted elite of the Crisis Suit teams, and then finish what had been started.

Y’Suam continued. “My brothers, the alien race of the Necrontyr have called you to battle in a fortnight. They arise from their underground tombs for one purpose and one only: the purge of our Ya’noi! These Necrons – they give a good show of overwhelming firepower and intimidation through their silence. Do not be dissuaded from your purpose, Shas’la, because I assure you, when they meet our guns, they will cry out in silence, and crawl back into the hell that spat them out.

“I have led you through approximately fifty nine aerial deployments.” He earned a few laughs at that. “Half of those were inside enemy territory. Place your faith in me, my warriors of fire and we shall see this through. Jump!”

The pod bay holding Y’Suam’s Crisis Suit popped open, revealing a violet hewed night sky and a planet under siege. The unforeseen moon, a terraformed colony perilously close to making planet fall on her neighbor. Her wilderness were untamed boreal forests and her settlements were writhing with sickly green flames. One such city directly beneath him was overran with a marching phalanx of warriors crafted from living metal, supported by all kinds of monstrosities that killed with abandon.

“Follow my lead, warriors of Sa’cea!” He called again before he drove his XV8 Suit off of the flame wreathed wreck.

The inertia drove him into a momentary limbo as the jet pack thrusters slowed his rapid descent. Y’Suam pulled on his controls so that he stared upward toward the destroyed Manta gunship and the dozens of small lights following him out of it. Massive, whip-like gauss blasts immediately beset them by the dozen. There were no screams, but a handful of small explosions streaked across the stary sky.

The blue hexagonal grid of his suit’s shield generator flashed on and off again as gauss fire grazed against the surface. Y’Suam erected his suit and instantly half a dozen targets blipped onto his image feed. A small red icon flashed again and again in the corner of his screen. He veered the XV8 to the left in a strafe, avoiding fire from a Triach Stalker crawling over the a shattered ruin.

Y’Suam’s connected nervous system and brain link instantly picked up the desired target, the crosshairs of his two fusion guns and missile pod instantly flashed green. “Team Shadow Sword, engage my target!”

Y’Saum slammed feet first into the earth, creating a charred crater on impact, and then launched through the air again through a storm of small arms fire. He checked the life signatures of his teammates, they were following close behind. His missile pod unleashed a salvo on a dense formation of Necron machines that he swept over. Living metal and alien energies blossomed in a sapphire tinted storm of fire, the rest of his team followed, ensuring their devastation.

As Team Shadow Sword flew towards the Triach Stalker, Y’Saum caught images of Shas’la and civilians either fleeing or fighting. In either case, he could not help but flinch as they wore atomized in the blink of an eye. If the Tau were to succeed here, the end results of this battle would be anything but satisfactory. There were thousands of half atomized corpses intermingled with shattered Necron husks. It was shameful that the Tau were forced to bleed this much to repel their enemy.

Y’Suam’s teeth glinted in a knife cut grin, the Stalker rapidly coming into sight, blind sighted. The payload from the fusion blasters instantly vaporized against the quantum shielding, leaving a white hot trail from where the attack connected. As he glided past the Stalker, the fire trails left by the other teams made a mark against the approaching phalanx. Plasma rifles cut through individual infantry by the score. Missiles rained down and plunged their formations into further disorder. Flamethrowers rushed into the thick of their disorganized ranks, wreathing the remainder of the enemy in a torrent of fire.

Nothing stopped the inevitable from coming true. Hordes of scarabs latched onto suit after suit that landed but for a moment. The Necron Elite easily dashed apart those reckless enough to fly into range of their ranks. The remaining Broadsides continued to pound the opposition with their missile salvos wherever Y’Suam’s warriors left their marks. Not even the Triach lasted long under the XV88’s attention, blasted apart by distant rail gun attacks.

In less than an hour, the tide had turned momentarily in the favor of the Tau. But Aun’Kais’ reports of the diminished population left any thought of victory hollow. The inevitable had happened, there was no longer a population worth defending on this planet anymore.
Y’Suam landed his suit a top a catacomb spider, placed his fusion gun onto the head, and obliterated the brain of the machine in one blinding flash of light. As the carcass skidded into the earth, a massive vessel, weapons alight from all directions, fired a blast that landed just behind his suit. His own team’s life signatures abruptly went dead, before the fallout of the blast crumpled his suit like toy. The last thing he ever heard was his own defiant scream.

“Shas’O’Y’Suam. He won a pyrrhic victory against the Necrontyr protecting one of Sa’cea’s second sphere colonies. Eighty percent of the colony’s population were killed in action. An awkward achievement to say the least.”

“Though the Empire is shamed by his lack of preservation for the common civilian. A victory against the Necrontyr isn’t something we can just disregard. End the simulation. Revive him from Cryostasis, now that he is up to speed. We can use a Commander like him. A disgraced general can go far to find redemption.”
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