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I write to you good sirs of heresy online to warn you of an endeavor i will soon endure.-----FAN FICTION!!!!! Dun Dun Dun. As all great things have small beginning's I speak to you now as a novice writer. With a lofty goal to create a story worthy of a cast of characters that can only be described as the Jagharty 75Th War dogs. My Imperial Guard regiment stuck in the middle of the Solstice Wars a Imperial campaign to retake a system of stars in the Segmentum Tempestus. Where due to strange warp activity hundreds of worlds have just been thrust in to one lonely galaxy. While a group of soon venerated guard has to learn to trust the outsiders thrust into their ranks, fight personal demons and sometimes just let go in an uncaring universe. Stay tuned.

For me

#1 I will try to post a chapter or entry to this ever growing story once a week.

#2 I will always strive to create better and better literature.

#3 I will not rage at criticisms and comments.

#4 I will try to answer all questions.

For you

#1 No stupid crap.

#2 Don't just complain about a late entry you can ask whats going on but don't just bitch.

#3 Once i start posting entry's (very soon mind you) please provide criticisms and comments.

#4 don't flood the thread.

Cheers :biggrin:

172 Posts
Discussion Starter · #3 · (Edited)

Bear with me guys this is the beginning of a long journey.


"It is the wolf that kills you but it is the mountain that breaks you."
-Jagharty legend

"The embers of a fire in its dying droves remind you of a wounded jark does it not?"Spoke the hooded man.

"It seems to me that there is something on your mind for you to be brooding this early. Or am i wrong scholar?"Said a second man as he approached the fire.

Scholar turned to face the younger man as he sat across from him. His features were distinct a full beard covered the lower half of his face and masked his large chin. A broad nose and green eyes dominated his face a cap covered his short brown hair. He was tall while well built with broad shoulders he was a perfect example of a young Jagharty man all of which were accustomed to hard winters on the mountainsides.

"You would be correct Dorve i do have something on my mind." Answered scholar.

"Would you care to share?" Said Dorve.

"There are strong winds flowing in through the east and as local legends would agree that strong eastern winds bring bad omens."Said scholar.

"I'm sure your just a little cold that's all. You should think about adding more wood to the fire it seems to be dying."Replied Dorve as he walked away.

Scholar looked down at his fire it flickered with hope. He stared still daring it to return only for a strong wind to blow it out. The man sighed as he stood to retrieve wood from the pile. He looked up into the snow drift spotting a wounded jark stumbling through the deep snow with a wounded leg. Intrigued he searched the mountain for a pack of pursuing wolf's sure to be not far behind. A black shape crests over the snow any thoughts of wolves exits his mind as the true pursuers are much more dangerous.

Dorve pushed his way past early morning productivity. while hunters rise from their beds and prepare their equipment. A fire starts in the blacksmith ending the night officially. The smell of charcoal rising those clinging onto sleep as the day begins in his little village. He strays to a different path until he stands before the little machine shop and is greeted by writhing mechanical tentacles.

"181262-9817812672120-9182736356-35221-182736547=?" Asked the enginseer.

All meaning behind the jumbled machine code was lost with the early morning winds. A look of perplex-ion bleeds across Dorve's face. A strange silence enters the room only to be broken by a click when the engineseer realizes his mistake.

"Apologies i must remember to turn to low Gothic before i do my machine modes and rest. What is it that you want Dorve?"The enginseer asked.

"I've got it from here Revic you should begin morning rites."Said a voice from the back of the machine shop.

The engineseer strode away to begin his strange rituals. Dorve looked around the little shop it was ramshackle to say the least. However it served the community well to have an engineseer in the village. The building seemed small because of the clutter but was quite large. Its roof was raised to 6 feet and the main-room was dominated by worktables and tools. The door to the back opened and a smudged but bright face stepped through. The girl was of medium stature she was young mid twenties her long red hair pulled back and her thin beautiful face was covered in oil and grime.

"Well look who it is the great huntsman the brave strong smart young man who managed to break his rifle. I wonder about you sometimes"the girl said.

"Did you fix my gun Celestene?"Dorve inquired.

Celestene returned to the back to just a second and reemerged holding a fixed hunting rifle. She walked over to where he was standing and handed him the gun.

"Just because its fixed it doesn't mean that i'll repair it a second time. So don't go throwing it off any cliffs."Proclaimed Celestene.

He ran his hand up the stock of the old rifle finding the cold metal of the trigger. He could feel all of them, every kill, every shot and every miss. He remembered the wolf that had broken it. The thing was supposed to be dead. He remembered the snarling face inches from his own. He remembered its blood seeping onto his clothes from where he stabbed it. He remembered it last breath its ragged protest before the light died from its eyes. The memory faded and he rested the stock of the gun up against the wall. He wrapped his arms around Celestene and she returned the gesture. She was worried he could always tell when she was worried her brown eyes became muddled when she had to much on her mind.

"Shes going to do great there's too many of us for any thing to happen."Dorve said to comfort her.

"I know. shes smart strong and a good shot. I'm just worried about her wondering into the unknown every day. Emperor protect her i don't understand but its Elyse's choice."Celestene said.

She lowered her grip, handed Dorve his rifle and kissed him on the cheek.

"Ill see you tonight."Dorve said as he was leaving.

"last time you just got lucky always shoot the wolf twice from now on."Celestene told Dorve as he pushed open the door and walked out.

People flooded the paths as work began. They moved out of the way as if they could understand why he was hurrying. He reached the clearing where his group of hunters waited. The men sat on logs checking their rifles and adjusting their boots. As he approached one of the younger hunters in the party acknowledged him. He was shorter than all the rest. He was small but fast and easily the best shot among-st them.

"Every one ready Lustiv?"Asked Dorve.

"Ya every ones here except Elyse shes getting the rest of her gear from Harper."Replied the younger man.

"I'll go get her everyone be ready when i get back"Dorve said.

A walk to the blacksmith would be short he quickly bypassed people roaming this area of the village. He Moved the curtains aside and stepped in. The dark room was lit up by the fire dancing across the walls. He pushed his way through another door to find Harper giving the last of a hunters equipment. A knife, the most important tool at our disposal. A canteen, life in a bottle and matches, an equally important tool.

"That should be all Elyse if you need anything fixed you would have to......What the hell are you doing in here you old piece of vrak!"Exclaimed Harper as he outstretched a hand.

Harper was a large man at least a head taller than anyone else he knew. The man was imposing if you never met him before. He could remember the times the two of them used to have he thrust his arm out to meet his oldest friend.

"I'm here to pick up Elyse so we can get......."his statement was cut short by a blast to shake the world,which enveloped his

Super Moderator
8,563 Posts
Your major characters are already starting to display distinct personalities which is an excellent base upon which to build a story.

Some of your descriptions are also very good. The memory of the wolf especially:

He ran his hand up the stock of the old rifle finding the cold metal of the trigger. He could feel all of them, every kill, every shot and every miss. He remembered the wolf that had broken it. The thing was supposed to be dead. He remembered the snarling face inches from his own. He remembered its blood seeping onto his clothes from where he stabbed it. He remembered it last breath its ragged protest before the light died from its eyes.

The short sentences featuring snippets of the event without narrating the whole event evoke the jerky nature of a dangerous struggle.

Unless there is a new speaker or you want to avoid confusion over who is speaking, you do not need "...said N" after each speech. Naming the speaker each time they speak weakens the reader's focus on the actual words they are saying; this is most prominent in your initial dialogue.

Your last line, "...his statement was cut short by a blast to shake the world enveloped his", does not quite make sense to me; did the last few words get cut off when you uploaded?

172 Posts
Discussion Starter · #5 ·
I'm sorry what i meant to say was that the blast enveloped his, world.Thanks to the CC. I felt that the naming after each dialogue was weakening but i didn't want to not do it and mess up so i took the safe route.

172 Posts
Discussion Starter · #6 · (Edited)
entry two

Sorry i was late on this one. I was busy, i will post the next entry early. As i am tacking a trip to Cleveland with the family. Now with no further a due.


"We are all the Emperors sons though he is not our father."

Black wings cut through the clear needles that poured from the heavens. The sleek black body pushed ever onward ignoring the graveyard that lay below it. The raven landed on a crumpled form. The creature wiped its head through the storm ignoring the black shape, which now rose to half height.

He stared at the bird with its wings curled up. He cared nothing for the beast they were not a viable source of food.The man had learned the hard way which was plainly clear by the scars running up his right arm. He dared move closer, intrigued by what the bird stood upon. He ran as fast as he could hunched down, the bird scattered startled by him sneaking up on it. He watched it fly up for just a second before turning down to pick at the body. The man searched the body for any recognition, he grasped his hand around dog tags bringing them closer until a loud crack! Broke his search. He hit the dirt sploshing into a puddle the walls of mud sloshed over the body's around him. The water slowly retreated to envelope him! Only to splash back, he stared into the eyes of one dead soul. The same thoughts ran through his mind. Had he been seen? Was that shot meant for him? Were the traitors looking for him? The eyes did not answer him. A ragged cap fell from the body's head. He grasped it in the twinkling night he could make out a imperial Aquila, it seemed so strange for this to be found here in all this death and despair. The body was covered by an even more ragged commissars coat he looked the body over for any weapons, food supplies any thing. But it was something behind the dead commissar that caught his eye it was water flowing downwards. He was on a hill of some sorts he noted. He started to move until the cold realization hit him, the sniper must have shot at him. What else was their to shoot at? The heretic must have thought him dead or dying when he had fallen into cover. If he moved he was dead, if he stayed he would be found eventually. The roving patrols of mad men would find him. This he knew. It was apparent to him that if he tried to get over the lip he might find a foxhole to hide in or a bunker which would be even better. Along with that he might be spotted and shot by snipers, or have clean up squads sent after him. Staying here with the body's of his regiment would drive him crazy and he would be found in either place the conditions of a fox hole would be much more appealing. He decided he was dead anyway. If he stayed or went his survival mattered little to the Imperium now he was just a number he had always been the past few hours of his life. It had been hell from the minute he left that trench. He had been forsaken there was no way the Saradnian 239th was going to make it to enemy lines, we were dead the minute we got that order. He had ran, man had he ran. We had advanced steadily at first. It didn't take long for chaos to ensue. The first bolt round had caught Clark in the neck! He was lucky in a way that he didn't make it far enough to be shredded by the mortar round that exploded just ahead of his body. Then the commissar met his end as the mans body spiraled down gracefully to his death bed. Yes he had ran like hell you could say that. This was his last thought as he slipped over the hill falling into the trench, his eyes cut through gloom only to fall on scenes of tragic confusion. Soldiers picked off trying to crawl over fallen comrades! You could say the river runs reddest in only the deepest hole this you could say. With his back pressed against the trench wall he sank down letting the relief that he had found a slightly safer place to hide flow through him. His trials were not over he was not safe, nor was he content to just hide. If only he could find a weapon he could repay the deaths of his comrades, of his regiment! That thought left him quickly with a weapon his expected survival time would increase exponentially. He wanted ever so desperately to kill heretics but blindly charging the enemy lines would show that he had learned nothing from the friends he had lost. He needed an opportunity.

Dorve checked his gear one last time. Finding the smooth handle of his knife ,the rough edges of his grenades and the trigger guard of his side arm.His seemingly out of place lasgun was strapped in at his side. They wouldn't let him bring his sword, sharp objects were notorious for causing accidents while dropping. even though he had never dropped before he obliged it seemed like common sense.

"don't feel so hot Lucky Boy?"Asked the soldier across from him Zink was his name.

Dorve didn't answer, he was staring intently out of his chimeras view slit watching the world race by

The man sat in the trench, reading his dog tags over and over again contemplating their meaning.

"Darian Saggiaus Corval."Corval read "Why are you still alive when all your friends are dead?"

A glint tore him away from the tags. He found the sunrise a welcome sight but what he saw next was far more interesting. He had caught the modified Valkyries soon enough to watch them deposit their chimera cargo before zipping away. Yes you could say that Clark was lucky.
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