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8,544 Posts
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Welcome to the year's third

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 April 2015
. 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!


1,547 Posts

(1091 words)

“The better the devil you know”
Old Terran saying​

“It has to be a mistake” said Freundel as he read the dataslate for the second time. The runner, a youngster of maybe seventeen years who lacked any of the customary gang markings, rocked uncomfortably on his heels. He shrugged his shoulders. “It is from the top.”
“You read this Jones?”, Freundel raised an eyebrow. The runner grinned.
“Of course not Lieutenant."
Freundel picked up his lasgun and jumped down from his bunk.
“Get me Sergeant Hassler and gather up the platoon.”

Joldusteinn, Hive World.. infested.

For six months the Guard had been spilling their blood over this nightmare of tall hives and sprawling conurbations. For six months they had been locked in bitter fighting with Ork’s who’s numbers never seemed to diminish.
Freundel despised these animals, but his hatred paled to how Sergeant Hassler thought.

“I hate the fuggin’ mongrels,” growled Sergeant Hassler “turning up here with not even a by your leave, and then kicking our butts. Always on the back foot, always retreating, and now top brass have come up with this wonderful plan that will suddenly turn the tide.”
The grizzled NCO spat contemptuously.

Freundel smiled. He knew he should calm the old veteran down and curb his anger before he dug a hole that was too deep. However, he felt the same and rather the Sergeant get it than him.
“It gets better Sergeant. You and me are going to lead this mission, but we will not be alone. Brass have sent us… specialists.”
“That is our turf Boss, that is white skull territory. We should take it back… on our own.”

Freundel helped him to his feet. Others might frown on such familiarity between an officer and an ordinary rank, but both of them had been through the grinder and stood side by side in the grimmest fighting, so Freundel cared little for what others might think.

“It’s not that simple I am afraid’ he nodded to the silent figure sitting in the corner. ‘Have you anything to add Commissar Bitencourt?.”

Bitencourt stood up, his leather jacket and boots creaking as he did so. He gazed for a second at the Sergeants angry face and watched his expression turn slowly to realisation and then worry. He had got used to their ways, but he would not tolerate it for much longer. If they faltered but an inch in battle, he would have their heads.

“The 27th Vlagow Stormtroopers will assist your entry to the Hive. Once inside, you are on your own,’ he paused and then looked at Freundel. ‘The Lower Hive is your territory and you know it well. That is why you are going in.”

“Cannon Fodder.” Hassler whispered. He turned to Freundel. He knew he should keep quiet, but history dictated that he at least say something. “Boss, I will say it if you don’t.”
“Sergeant Hassler…”

“No. The high-Almighty Stormtroopers come from the Upper Hive. They are the clean breathers, the privileged and elite. Us White skulls are just low-life…”

“Scum?” Bitencourt interrupted, his anger rising. “Scum, or hard done-by Gangers. The 216th Vlagow are Imperial Guard first and foremost and ‘Gangers’ last. You know the area and they don’t. They can get you in, but the Lower Hive is an alien environment to them. You put your differences aside’ he paused for effect and then looked deep into Hassler’s soul. ‘That is an order.”

* * *​

Uitae sordes”, hissed a tall Stormtrooper, resplendent in white carapace armour, and a red-plumed helmet. Hassler spat.
“I swear he is mocking me the tw…”

It was pitch black, though in the far distance there was the faint glimmer of a new dawn. Freundel did not know if Ork’s actually slept, but he prayed to the Emperor that if they did, it would be a deep sleep.

He turned to his compatriot, a fair-haired junior officer, who bore a neat dueling scar on his left cheek.
“The way in is through that exhaust vent to the right of that statue of…”
“Our beloved Lord Commander Huemac.” The Stormtrooper interrupted. Freundel winked at Hassler.
“Is that who it is? I thought it was some ancient grazing beast judging by its size.”
There was a hiss of metal against metal and then Commissar Bitencourt was between them, his power sword drawn.
“I am just dying to administer the Emperor’s Peace. Both of you… all of you get on, or on my honour, it will get bloody.”

At a nod, all twenty Stormtroopers activated their jump packs, and with an agitated growl from the jets, lifted their cargo of twenty White skulls into the chilled dawn air.

Five seconds later they had cleared the forward trenches and were over no-man's land, climbing higher and higher as full power finally kicked in.

The Ork front line began to stir as individuals and then squads began to try and locate the noise. Before the first heavy weapons were brought to bear, the unlikely squad of low and high-born Vlagow’s, were already approaching the Hive towers.

“Ten seconds.” Freundel’s earpiece rasped over the scream of the jump packs.
“The Emperor Protects.”

The exhaust vent was only three meters high and the same length wide, but the Stormtroopers managed to land two abreast in perfect synchronicity.
Freundel was almost impressed.

The White skulls unhitched and spread out, securing the landing zone with practised ease.
Freundel voxed their position and called the Stormtrooper officer over.

“You hold here. We will blow the generator and be back before you know it”. He took hold of the Stormtroopers vambrace adding. “When it blows, we will only have a few minutes to get out, before everything turns nasty. It will be tight.”
The tall officer grinned.
Simul ire ibimus… Lieutenant. We will be here.”

The White Skulls knew their trade and exactly where to strike. It was afterall their territory. The Orks paid them no heed.
The job was done quickly and without incident.
When they returned to the entrance, the Stormtroopers had gone.

“They called us low life filth.” Said Hassler.
“And I knew they would run.” Added Freundel.
The whole hive began to rumble and shake as charge after charge went off below them. Hassler grinned.
“Can’t wait to see their faces.”
“When the central Spire comes crashing down,” said Freundel. He pointed to the tiny glinting specks of the stormtroopers in the distance. “Just about where they are heading if I got my calculations right.
They both laughed.
“It’s a lovely bloody war.”

623 Posts
Games of Shadow

Word Count: 851 Words

Shas’la Kuo’no Or’es Shi darted through the decrepit streets of Adrianople as swiftly as his hooves could carry him. The metallic highway exploded around his feet from where a heavy machine gun exploded into it. He kept his pace. The more he weaved through the maze of rubble and abandoned fortifications, the more inaccurate the entrenchment weapon became as it tried to track his position. In the end, he settled behind a tall barricade of thin steel resilient enough to deflect the ammunition being hurled in his direction.

He paused for a moment. The pulse rifle he cradled close to his chest he dropped onto the pavement. He needed a moment to breathe. The noisy rattling of the machine gun tapered off after a minute of concentrated fire. Silence reigned for a quick moment. Or’es used the time bought to think of his lost comrades. They had all perished. At the hands of an invisible foe, no less. He had tried to stand with them. Tried to find an enemy to neutralize. But there was nothing but shadows.

Now he needed a savior.

Or’es leaned his head in every possible direction to glean his surroundings. He was in the center of a crossroads where eight lanes joined. A swathe of buildings populated the flanks of each road, kept at bay by a large steel wall. That had not kept the debris from spilling over after many of them had suffered from loss of structural integrity. There were open lanes for vehicles to come and go, but the rest of the highway was locked down by layer upon layer of fortifications.

Or’es licked his cracked lips. “Where are you, you Gue’la?”

He searched the nearby manufactorum directly in front of the barricade for movement, but discovered nothing even with the aid of an enhanced vision device. The human was there somewhere. Either Or’es would outmaneuver the threat or he would be here until the threat eliminated him.

There was a distinct thump scant feet away from his position. Months of intense training had taught Or’es not to leap at the first sign of danger. Instead he picked up his pulse rifle, gently threw his back against the barricade, and made himself ready to spring out and catch his foe by surprise.

Three… Two… One…

“For the Greater Good, Gue’la!” Or’es shouted at the top of his lungs. He rounded the corner as quickly as he could manage. He physically shrank from the gigantic figure standing in the waning sun, painted in varying degrees of shadow.

Perhaps the figure could not hear him? That was impossible. Or’es was bellowing like a mad Ork.

Or’es realized his peril and did what seemed natural for him to do in such a situation. He did nothing. He was paralyzed, not exactly by fear, but astonishment. What was this creature?

The figure turned his gaze away from the sun, planted one sure foot forward after the next until he had rounded the first barricade. He approached slowly, but his movement was not born of caution, but of confidence.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The shadows peeled away from him like layers off a serpent’s skin. The right half of his armor was a gory red tint that reflected the sun’s rays with a polished sheen. The rest stayed in the shadows even as it came to light. It was a darkness that the sun could not destroy. The golden Aquila of the Imperium was emblazoned across the chest plate. Decorations of what appeared to be feathered wings flanking a massive bloody teardrop was emblazoned upon his left shoulder pad. Or’es could see nothing of the creature’s face, but an empty mask with emerald visor slits.

The creature’s voice thundered like a wrathful storm. “Quid est quod tibi placuerit , hostem dignam?” (How is it that you wish to die, worthy foe?)

Or’es straightened himself, but could not find the words to say anything.

The creature drew a long metallic blade with a deadly serrated edge. He raised it high overhead and admired the craftsmanship. As if noticing Or’es for the first time, the mutated Gue’la leveled the blade at his foe.

The swipe was quick. Faster than anything Or’es had ever seen before. Had Or’es not naturally stumbled and fell over himself, he would have been split into pieces. The creature came closer. Thump. Thump. Thump. The blade flipped in the Gue’la’s hands as he made to thrust downward into Or’es exposed gut.

There was a visceral, wet explosion that came from within. Or’es’ expression was fixated in horror as the sounds laced through the innards as if a string being worked back and forth. The creature paused, head cocked to the side in puzzlement. A great well of blood erupted from his mouth and came through his mouth grill. Or’es scrambled away from the massive Gue’la as it fell onto its knees before keeling over.

It was dead.

Or’es rushed to his feet, searched this way and that, but found nothing but shadows playing in the dark.

Mocking laughter echoed across the highway. Then nothing.

4,470 Posts
The One

(In the darkness of space in the Eye of Terror, the Emperor’s Shield’s Chapter pulls its ships back from a brutal losing campaign against Black Legion forces.

Caldorn… the last Captain of the Emperor’s Shields watched as the last of the fleet was turned into a big ball of light through the escape pod. Debris clashed down on the surviving escape pods until only one remained. Captain Caldron and two remaining sergeants were shot into the darkest space of the eye.)

“Captain.” Captain Caldron had awaken from his deep sleep to the husky voice of Sergeant Dalkso.

“What is it Sergeant?” The defeated captain asked as he grasped the pain in his skull.

“We are approaching a planet Captain. We have enough oxygen for a few more hours, we must make planet fall.”

“Proceed Sergeant Dalkso. Sergeant Lyontis, make ready the engines towards the planet and be combat ready. We have no clue what awaits us.”

Sand crashed into the three armored figures whom had made a path through the sandstorm from their escape pod. Their yellow dented armor blended into the barren wasteland. The landscape seemed to be completely desert except for several big rocks and mountains randomly distributed throughout their journey. Though they could hardly see what lay behind them, they felt a sense of confidence and assurance that could not really be described.

All of a sudden the Captain stumbled on a large cobblestone step that had been covered in sand. The three Astartes had stumbled on a stone tomb covered in sand. Almost completely invisible through the sand except for a black space two meters in width and the imprints left on the cobblestone by their footsteps.

They entered the dark entrance…

“Search the tomb… weapons at the ready,” the captain said as he removed his helm. The two sergeants followed example while separating and patrolling separate ends of the tomb. Captain Caldron took the straight path down the corridor into a bigger chamber filled with many trophies, weapons, and skeletons hanging from the walls. Some of races and allies he had seen before throughout his long time in the chapter… some he didn’t. He came across a small bright glow coming towards the right corner of the large room and approached it with his plasma pistol.

There sat a hooded figure on what appeared to be a throne like structure covered in rags.

“Captain… I have been expecting… you,” the hooded figure said in a sly, mysterious voice.

Captain Caldron came close, with his pistol aimed at the figures head. “Who are you?

“I am the One who lost it all…”

An energized plasma pistol charged as the Captain responded to the hooded figures quaint tone. “Speak sense creature!!!”

The vibrations of the pistol grew uncontrollable until the captain’s left arms ignited in a small explosion with plasma burning half his body. The captain screamed in agony as he was slowly melting on the stone floor.

The hooded figure suddenly stood up and walked towards the melting armored figure, flaying and screaming in agony. His arms reached out through the darkness of his robe, glowing with humanlike hands. As he touched the melted corpse writhing in pain, the pain suddenly escaped the captain, and he stopped screaming.

The captain remained still from shock, and an unknowing ability about what to do. He lay on the floor, fully healed, until he reached out with his bear hand to gain a footing and face the hooded figure.

Confused and uneasy, the captain spoke to the creature again who had sat back on his throne.

“Who are you?” The captain asked in a naïve, unconfident tone. The captain spoke faster in what sounded like a nervous tone. “Are you a worshiper of the 4 deities? A sorcerous traitor?!! Stay away from me you freak!!!”

“Four? No… I am not. I am not a worshiper, or a traitor. But… I am the One.”

The creature starred into the fire and spoke back in his slow raspy voice.

“Before there was four, there was one. I had existed in the warp and the universe as perfection amongst the beings of the material universe. However, I…. did not wish to be an object of worship. Thus, I created 4 representations from myself to show the galaxy the path of enlightenment. They were Bravery, Perfection, Generosity, and Knowledge. They were perfect beings, that showed the universe my light… my vision.

However… one thing remained amongst the universe’s followers… their loyalty to me… This made the Four jealous and pushed the four to become more powerful and ambitious. They had changed their own names, Glory, Pleasure, Corruption, Distortion.

The 4 had become strong… celebrated… worshipped… by many beings of the universe, knowingly and unknowingly. They had become terrible… Concepts, meanings, and identities had become warped. I changed their names because they had become more warped than I could have imagined… Murder… Perversion… Disgust…Treachery.

The universe had become warped. I made it larger and kept the warped universe from spreading as best as I could. War had engulfed the universe. I made the choice of sending some of followers away from the warped parts of the universe and keeping some to fight the Four Alliance.

With neither side winning, a truce was set up on a planet at the center of the universe. I had waited for my four sons to come to a truce with me and to save them from being lost. It was this stone temple, made by our followers to the One and the Great Four, where I awaited them.

"My sons! Come out of the darkness to make peace."

All was quite until four voices said… “We are no longer your sons… We are…”

I was suddenly struck by an Axe… “KHORNE!!!” Then I was sliced through the torso… “Slaaneshh” Then hacked by a sythe…. “NURGLE” Lastly, I felt warp magic twist… “Tzteentch…”

I had been torn into pieces, by what had once been my beautiful sons and had now become monsters that were devouring what was left of me.

With my last remaining power I had pushed the warped part of the universe with my remaining strength into another existence, and separate from my loyalist children. The four had rushed and abandoned me to escape into uninfected universe only to be locked out forever. Their anger and screaming had twisted and mutated the rest of what used to be a galaxy into what you see… the warp. And I had been lost forever.

But now… is time to set things right… and I need a champion…”

Word Count 1098
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