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Discussion Starter · #1 ·

The Touch of a Devil

It was a cold night.

The cloaked figure slipped unnoticed through the dirty habs of the lower hive. He moved with an eerily smooth gait, as if not touching the ground at all. He was following the scent of his quarry, a man, in his late twenties. The figure had been watching him all night. When he had entered the PDF officers club and then left for home five hours after. Under his hood he wore strange mask made of dull silver, resembling a leering demonic face, twisted is a snarl of rage. He moved past an open window, light flooded into the cold streets from within. Raised voices assaulted the figures ears followed by the smash of glass on rockcrete. The figure watched in amusement through the portal as the man beat his wife for disobedience.

The figure tilted his head upwards, the moon glinting off his silver mask. He took in a great draught of air. He quarry was getting away. The figure burst into action, sprinting through the remaining streets, under glow globes and family clothes drying on line between buildings, his cloak billowing behind him. Moving with such speed despite the abnormally large bulk of his frame. Ahead of him a cross street loomed. Reaching the end of alley he watched from the shadows as a man opened the door to a hab. Looking back over his shoulder and seeming to look straight at the silent figure. Under his mask, the figure smiled. The hunter knew the man could not see him, the ancient technologies of his cabal assured that. After long seconds the man turned back into his home and closed the door behind him. Even at such a distance, the figure could hear multiple locks being done. A moment passed before the figure raised his hand and touched the ear of his demonic mask.

“He’s in. We move in five mortal minuets.” He spoke. An acknowledgement quickly sounded in his ear. Under his mask the figure smiled, and on the outside, the mask smiled along with him.

Wafting through the house was a sweet aroma, as sweet as it could get after a tour of duty. The smell of fresh meat stewing in a pot compared to the odourless ration packets they got back at the PDF barracks. Carne Dail sat at his workbench, fiddling with the finer pieces of his father’s old T20 autogun. It was, to all purposes, an antique but Carne was vigilant in its up keeping. It was all his father had left him.
“Da?” called a voice from across the room.
Carne looked up from his work to see the smiling face of (FILL IN BLANK WITH NAME).
His daughter of seven years. She was sitting at a small wooden bench on the other side of the small room, fiddling with small beads and string.
“Yes darling? What is it?” he said.
“I made another one Da” She said, holding up a necklace of multi coloured beads in her hands. Carne could read “Mummy” etched into the centre beads in black text.
“Another one already?” Replied Carne, holding up his wrist showing a bracelet much like the necklace saying “Da”, “So that’s two today?”
“Yes Da” said (BLANK)
“Well I guess you better go give it to mum then.” Said Carne.
(BLANK) smiled and ran off to the main room of the hab.
Carne returned to his work. Removing the firing mechanism and cleaning the parts before putting it back together again. He picked up and empty clip and slotted it into its horizontal position on the left side of the stock, racked the slide and test fired at the wall. His efforts were rewarded with a dull click. Before he’d started work on it, the trigger wouldn’t even depress.

There was a loud nock on the door.

“Honey can you get that please?” called (BLANK) from the habs small kitchen area.
“Sorry Hun, my hands are covered in grease, couldn’t open the door without using my mouth.” Replied Carne. He herd (BLANK) laugh.
“Do I have to do everything around here?”
Carne Laughed to himself as he started cleaning his hands with a rag.

The Nock came again, louder.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. No need to be noisy.” He herd (BLANK) say.
Carne herd the distinct sound of the doors 4 different locks be undone. You never could be too careful in the lower hives. After that came the creak of the doors hinges, Carne hadn’t gotten around to greasing them yet.
Carne got up from his workbench and walked into the hallway to see what the commotion outside was about.
“Can I help you?” said (BLANK). The last thing she saw was the silvery glint of the gun barrel. She barely even managed a scream before the shotgun slug entered through the base of her chin, exiting the top of her skull in a spray of blood and gore.
“No!” he yelled defiantly. Rushing forwards he kicked the door back into place hard. Knocking whoever was closest to ground outside. Quickly he redid the locks. He could do nothing but stare down at the body of the person who meant the most to him. An ever expanding pool of her life fluid was flowing onto the floor around her.
Without sparing a thought for his wife’s body, he ran for the main room.
Behind him the door flew from its hinges with enormous force, the sound of the explosion made his ears ring. The heavy metal door hurtled through the air and crashed into the rockcrete wall behind him.

He found (BLANK) crying and holding her hands on her ears behind the kitchen wall.
“It’s all right, Da’s here now.” He said.
He scooped her up in his arms and ran for his workbench, he herd rushing footsteps and deep, challenging bellows from behind him. On his bench was his father’s old T20. With his spare hand he grabbed it and threw himself behind his desk.

Fumbling on the ground he found what he sought, the handle to the basement hatch. Lifting it upwards revealed a set of well used stairs. Automatic lights flickered into life at the hatches opening. He beckoned (BLANK) onwards, she obeyed and ran down the stairs. Carne quickly followed her, closing the hatch tight behind him. He could hear muffled voices from above.
(BLANK) had retreated to the far corner of the basement. Carne hadn’t been down here for months, but how he remembered it. The cold grey rockcrete walls stained by water damage, the small backup generator in the corner opposite from (BLANK) that he could never get to work properly, and the large crate of PDF supplies he’d hoarded over the years of duty. So this is it then, he thought, this is where I’m going to die. Well there were worse places he told himself. (BLANK) was still crying. Why shouldn’t she be, she had herd the gunshot that had killed her mother, the explosion that had ripped their door from its hinges, and for all she knew, they were going to die. Well they were Carne told himself, whoever they are, they are going to find us. The house is too small for them not to find the basement hatch.

“Where’s mum Da? Is she all right?” asked (BLANK)
“Mum’s dead, there are bad men upstairs, but I need you to stay strong. I’m going to get rid of the bad men and everything is going to be ok.” He said.
She started to cry again. Carne took her in his arms and rocked her back and forwards, patting her on the head. Better to let her live in hope. Carne’s eyes wandered over to his father’s T20. He knew he had a clip or two left in the crate across the room. May as well go out fighting he thought. He carefully sat (BLANK) back in the corner and walked over to the PDF supply crate. He had to move boxes of ration packs and blankets to find the spare clip. Rummaging through the boxes contents he found his rank patches. PDF Sergeant, 10th Regiment. They were still stained with blood. His blood. He’d earned the rank years ago on the battlefields of Arna Hive. The Orks had invaded and the Silon PDF had been called in to back up the beleaguered Arna PDF forces. Carne had led his small squad into fighting many times against the orks. It seemed so long ago now. He calmly slotted the clip into place and racked the slide. Something in the crate glinted in the artificial light. A small grey metal egg, about the size of his palm looked back at him. A Frag grenade. Perfect! Carne thought as he slid the deadly weapon into his pocket. He also found his old flak jacket. It felt heavy to wear after all those months since duty. From upstairs, Carne could hear angry voices being raised. They were looking for them, and it wouldn’t be long before they found them.

Carne knew he wouldn’t be getting out of the hab alive, little alone be able to get (BLANK) out with him as well. (BLANK) was still sitting in the corner, covering her face with her arms, using the old childhood trick that if you couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t see you either. Innocence, the sweet innocence of a child. Almost laughable. Carne thought to say some reassuring words to her but could think of none. What could he say?
“Sorry but you’re going to die tonight.”
Carne couldn’t believe how this had happened. One minute he had been getting ready to sit down at the dinner table. Now he was getting ready to die. He was afraid, not for himself, he had lived a good life so far, done many things he would never forget. No, he was afraid for (BLANK), she would never get to do the things he himself had done. She would never grow up and go to their local school with friends, would never marry.

The voices above were getting louder, closer. Carne walked towards the stairs back up to his study. Back up to his death. “You’re coming back soon right Da?” asked (BLANK). Carne looked back at the daughter he was looking behind. Her bright blonde hair hanging behind her in a tight pony tail. Tears were running down her face.
“I don’t know (BLANK) but I need you to be strong while I’m gone. Don’t make a sound and they won’t find you. I’ll make sure of it.” He said. He pointed towards the supply crate.
“There is a whole lot of food and water in there for you. Do not come out of the basement for a while ok, and be careful when you do.”
She stood up and ran towards Carne. He bent down on one knee and embraced his daughter for the last time.
“Remember, your mother and I always loved you, never forget that.” He said trying to contain tears himself.
“I know Da. I love you to.” She said, sobbing.
Carne broke away from the embrace even though it broke his heart. He turned and ascended the stairs.


Carne lifted the hatch carefully so as to not make a sound. He was still under his desk, a plus at least he thought. From under the desk he could see feet. Feet Clad in dull silver boots, spiked with small shards of jagged metal and stained with mud. At least six men were in the room with him. From what he could tell, they were defiling the Imperial Shrine on the other side of the room. At first Carne had thought that these were just under hive gangers looking to make some easy money. But why would they want to wreck the shine? Finding no answer he slid the Frag grenade from his pocket, pulled the pin and slid it under the desk towards the feet. Carne quickly ducked back into the basement stair way and slammed the hatch shut after him. Above, he heard muffled shouts of alarm followed by a resounding explosion. He burst from the stairway through the hatch and threw the desk away. The entirety of the room was covered in blood. Crumpled body parts littered the floor. Carne was sure he saw an ear hanging from the wall. He heard heavy footfalls from outside the room.
“So there are more of you Emperor forsaken bastards eh? Well come on them!” he bellowed. “Come and get me!” His words were greeted by screams of elation. The first figure burst through the doorway and in a split second Carne was disgusted and in disbelief. The figure was clad in old and rusted plate armour, spiked the degree that he looked like an angry bull grox with its horns up. Tied to his waist were a number of Xeno and human scalps. He carried a rusted and poorly maintained las carbine. But most terrifying of all was the mask he wore. Dull silver in colour resembling a snarling monster from a child’s nightmares. Carne couldn’t believe it, they were soldiers of the Archenemy, and they had come for him. Training and instinct kicked in. He raised his father’s T20 a shot the first traitor in the neck in one fluid motion. The warrior dropped his rusty weapon and clutched the ruin his neck had become, trying in vain to halt the blood flow. He wallowed in a pit on the ground gurgling blood. Carne’s moment of respite was quickly ended as five more Archenemy soldiers rushed in, trampling the body of their comrade. Clearly honour was not amongst their warrior’s creed. Training told Carne to conserve ammunition, to make every shot count, but Carne couldn’t care less about his bullets. He depressed the trigger and swept the barrel from side to side in a wide arc, spraying the room with hot tracer fire. The warriors jerked wildly as if in a seizure as the high velocity bullets tore through their lightly protected bodies. Blood sprayed in a fine mist through the air. Their ruined bodies hit the ground with a metal clang. The thing that scared Carne the most was that where their masks had once portrayed the faces of monsters, now showed nothing, just a flat surface of silver.

His clip had run dry in the frenzy of bullets. Removing and throwing the empty clip aside, Carne barely herd the figure enter the room. He was huge. Unnaturally tall and far too broad. The black cloak he wore billowed around his large frame. He too wore one of the strange masks, but his terrified Carne. It was more sinister and rage full then any of his brethren that littered the flood.
He was clapping.

“I must admit that over the time that I have been watching you, you have become quite the warrior. Though I would have thought that it would have taken you less than eighteen years.”
His voice, even stifled through the use of his mask, sounded oddly familiar.
“Who the frakk are you? Why have you done this you frakking bastard?” shouted Carne.
“I think you know perfectly who I am. Little Brother.” Said the figure.
“No...... It can’t be you. I know my brother, and I know for a fact that he is no Archenemy frakking bastard! Now tell me who the frakk you are and why you did this!” replied Carne angrily.
“Need more proof then? Ok I can oblige to that.” Said the figure, reaching up to his mask. There was a hiss of decompression as the mask slid away from his face. When it was lifted away, Carne almost fell over in shock.
Pale white flesh was revealed. A bald head stitched with horrendous scars. A nose that looked as if it had been trampled on by a raging grox and a smile of serrated teeth. Even though it had been years since he had last seen him and even through the disfiguring scars he recognised the face imediatley.
“Rabalias?” he said. “No..... But why?”
“Why what Carne, be specific.” Said Rabalias, smirking.
“Why are you with these, these scum?” replied Carne still in disbelief.
“Because my eyes were opened.” Roared Rabalias, throwing his arms up high.
“My eyes were opened to the great and terrible power of the Great Lord Tzeentch. He showed me the folly of the corpse god and his erstwhile followers!” said Rabalias, smirking still. Carne could not believe what had happened in the scale of less than an hour. His darling wife (BLANK) had been killed, his life ruined and he had learnt that his brother had turned to chaos.
“Then why do this then? Why would your frakking great lord tell you to do this then? Why?” he asked again.
“This? Oh this was just a bit of fun. I grew bored of waiting for Lord Tzeentch’s plans to come to fruition.” Laughed Rabalias.
“You frakking bastard!” Roared Carne, throwing himself at his older brother. Quicker then he could blink. Rabalias’ hand shot up from within his cloak and enveloped his. Rabalias’ hand was garbed in a cold, detailed metal. Strange marking were etched into its surface, but they hurt Carne’s eyes if he looked at them to long.
“Oh throne, you’re not one of them are you?” he breathed.
“If by ‘them’ you mean a Chaos Marne, then yes.” He said, and with his spare hand he threw the cloak from his body revealing an entire suit of arcane chaotic power armour, as black as the night sky and trimmed with a dark sky blue.
Carne started to mutter a prayer of deliverance to the Emperor.
“Your corpse god isn’t going to help you out of this one.” Said Rabalias as he lifted Carne easily into the air. In one quick and brutal motion he brought Carne’s back down hard onto his heavily armoured knee.

Carne was sure he heard a crack and knew his spine was broken when he couldn’t feel any pain. Rabalias lifted his limp body in front of his face.
“Oh and don’t think that I’m going to let you die just yet. It’s far too entertaining to watch you suffer as I did.” He said. Rabalias lifted a large medical syringe from a pouch at his waist. It was filled with a dark red substance. He thrust the needle point into the muscle of Carne’s neck and he let out a sigh of pain. Even crippled as he was he could feel the pain.
“Now this is an interesting concoction I made myself. It will keep you alive for days, but you won’t be able to utter a sound until it wears off. But then again, when it does, you’ll die slowly and painfully.” He cackled.

Carne tried to make the words do defy what his older brother had said but the words died in his throat as he saw more what then who was entering the room. Clad in much the same armour as Rabalias was a huge creature, twisted and warped. Pale orange flesh covered its colossal frame. In place of its right arm was an elongated symbiotic, a sword seeming to be made out of living tissue and bone. Instead of fingers were huge talons. Its head was distended sideways with two writhing tentacles protruding from either side, each ended in a glassy eye. Where its original eyes and nose would have been was an enormous mouth, covering its entire face. Serrated teeth burst from its jaw line. On its back, breaking from its armour were eight large spines, each ending in huge spikes.

“Now little brother, where is that lovely daughter of yours? My pet is awfully hungry after this long journey and needs a little snack.” Laughed Rabalias, and his ‘pet’ tried to repeat it but when the sound came out it was distorted and wrong. Carne wasn’t about to let them touch (BLANK).
“I.. I don’t have a daughter.” He muttered. The mutant laughed again.
“Come now Carne, I’ve been watching you for eighteen years, I know you have a daughter now where is she?” said Rabalias.

Carne refused to say anything. Rabalias sighed.
“Fine then, I’ll have my pet find her then.” He said. Rabalias snapped his fingers and the creature at his side burst into action, smelling the air. It got the scent; it cocked its head and looked over to Carne’s desk. It edged closer to the desk, still sniffing the air.
“Why? Why kill my daughter? Why do this? Tell me!” shouted Carne defiantly.
“Because I’m trying to show you brother. That when the chips are down, these.... civilised people of your so called Imperium, they’ll eat each other. I know it will because I’ve seen it happen. On a planet years from here, my warriors cut off all supply lines, all food and water cargos. On the brink of starvation, with a little push in the right direction, they reverted to cannibalism.” Said Rabalias. The mutant reached the desk and threw its head back and howled. It lifted the desk with ease and threw it across the room, it shattered into pieces as it hit the hard wall, revealing the hatch.

“Ah, there we go. You always did hide all the good treats from me little brother.” Said Rabalias. Even paralysed as he was, Carne felt his failure hit him like a ground car. He had failed (BLANK), there would be no way she was going to get out of the basement alive now.
“Now you can watch he die.” Said Rabalias. He looked over to the mutant. “Fetch the girl and bring her back up here.” Carne spat at the mutant, hitting one of its eye stalks. The malformed creature reared up and snapped the air just in front of his face, spraying spittle over him.

“Now now little brother, no need to make my pet angry.” Laughed Rabalias. The mutant descended the stairs into the dim of the basement. Once out of sight Carne heard (BLANK) scream. The sound cut into him like a cold shard of ice. He could hear (BLANK’S) screams of terror but could do nothing to save her. From the darkness, the creature emerged, carrying (BLANK) by the scruff of the neck. Tears poured down her face, mirroring her father’s.
“I’m sorry (BLANK), I tried, I’m so sorry.” Said Carne staring at the floor, he couldn’t bring himself to look his daughter in the eyes.
“It’s all right Da, I know you did.” She stuttered in between sobs.
The mutant was foaming from the mouth, the sweet release of the kill so close.
Rabalias lifted Carne higher into the air to look at him face to face.
“Now you will watch as your daughter dies. Now you will know the torment I suffered because of what you did to me.” Snarled Rabalias.
“Please.” Begged Carne. “Don’t punish the girl, punish me.”
“Oh, I’m about to.” Said Rabalias as he turned towards the mutant. “Do it.”

Carne could only watch as the monster began to tear the one person who meant the most in his life apart. Limb from limb. Piece by Piece. (BLANK’S) screams were short lived as it only took her moments to die, a small mercy. Her life blood jetted outwards and stained the walls. Rabalias turned him around and looked him in the eyes.
“Suffer...... as I did little brother.” He said, dropping Carne’s limp form into the expanding pool of his daughters blood. Leaving the room Rabalias snapped his fingers and the mutant looked up from its work, blood covered its face-mouth, and followed its master out into the night.

It was a cold night.......... stained with the blood of the innocent.

85 Posts
Under his hood he wore (a) strange mask made of dull silver, resembling a leering demonic face, twisted is a snarl of rage.

(T)he quarry was getting away.

“He’s in. We move in five mortal minuets.” - mortal minutes doesn't read right I'd maybe change it to Terran or human minutes?

Carne looked up from his work to see the smiling face of (FILL IN BLANK WITH NAME). - love it haha

Carne returned to his work. Removing the firing mechanism and cleaning the parts before putting it back together again. He picked up and empty clip and slotted it into its horizontal position on the left side of the stock, racked the slide and test fired at the wall. His efforts were rewarded with a dull click. Before he’d started work on it, the trigger wouldn’t even depress. - I really like this, cements his character as a warrior and makes him interesting as well as he likes to tinker, this deepens his character and gives us a nice insight.

There was a loud (k)nock on the door. He he(a)rd (BLANK) laugh.

The (k)nock came again, louder.

Can I help you?” said (BLANK). The last thing she saw was the silvery glint of the gun barrel. She barely even managed a scream before the shotgun slug entered through the base of her chin, exiting the top of her skull in a spray of blood and gore. - ooh nice and shocking.

“Remember, your mother and I always loved you, never forget that.” He said trying to contain tears himself.
“I know Da. I love you to.” She said, sobbing.
Carne broke away from the embrace even though it broke his heart. He turned and ascended the stairs. - Freaking awesome man.

He raised his father’s T20 a(nd) shot the first traitor in the neck in one fluid motion.

Their ruined bodies hit the ground with a metal clang. The thing that scared Carne the most was that where their masks had once portrayed the faces of monsters, now showed nothing, just a flat surface of silver - this is interesting.

rage full (rage filled) then any of his brethren that littered the floo(r).

“If by ‘them’ you mean a Chaos Mar(i)ne, then yes.” He said, and with his spare hand he threw the cloak from his body revealing an entire suit of arcane chaotic power armour, as black as the night sky and trimmed with a dark sky blue.

I really liked this, though its a shame that Carne's family had to die I loved how they did haha

You need to just make sure you read over your work to catch out all the little imperfections like spelling and grammar.

Great stuff keep it up.

627 Posts
Discussion Starter · #8 ·
Chapter One

Ok guys here is chapter one complete and ready for reading. I would greatly appreciate it if you could select you favourite bits and say why and least fav bits and tell how I could improve those bits. Thanks.
I'll probably have to do a few posts cause its pretty big.

Chapter One

“Move! Move! Move!” shouted Dariel Cain as he burst from the cover of the fallen tree. Around him the foliage erupted into movement as five other figures sprang from their hiding places and followed him. All of them, including Dariel were wearing Jungle pattern camouflage, dark greens and brown fatigues furthered by war paint of the same colours. They had been hunted, and the hunters had found them.

Shots burst from the foliage, one exploded against Dariel’s heavily reinforced chest piece. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his followers get hit in the thigh. Thick red fluid flowed from the point of impact.

“Watch those rounds Uriah, I do not want to have to carry you.” He yelled over the noise of weapon retorts. Uriah Jacobs checked himself over mid run. His hand ran through the red fluid and he looked up.
“Ah shit, didn’t even feel it sir.” He called back.
“Always mister invincible this kid eh Dariel?” shouted Gaius Salomi off to his left.
“Frakk, I bet he could take an earth shaker shell and would be still standing.” Laughed Dariel.
“Kiss my ass you guys.” Roared Uriah, overtaking them all. Everyone laughed and gained the ground they had lost easily. Uriah looked sideways, seeing everyone besides him.
“Ah frakk it.” He said easing off his speed. Everyone laughed again. Far above a siren played.

The lights brightened, reverting from the darkness of the jungle. The shots chasing their heels ceased and a number of gun bearing servitors emerged from the thick jungle. The group turned back and walked towards them. Dariel walked over to the largest of the hunters, a behemoth of flesh and augmetics, sweat running from his face.

Running down the nose that had been broken to many times, his simple features and glistening on his close cropped brown hair, giving the impression that he’d just been to the showers.
“Well met Major Cain, your warriors are formidable runners. I wonder how good they are in a real fight.” Said the giant. Dariel brushed of the casual insult with a laugh.
“As did yours Scarl, but if you would like a real fight, then I’m sure me and my boys would happily oblige.” He said. Scarl was one of the Legio Extremis Skitarii, a huge creation of the Mechanicus, flesh forged in steel.

Over half his body was augmetic; he wore great spiked plate armour, covered in feathers and other trophies of war. His appearance was designed more to scare than for aesthetics. In place of arms were bulky weapon limbs, though much smaller than he was accustomed to. They fired small cartridges filled with paint, the same as all the other servitors. Much different from the usual lascannon or autocannon he would attach when going to war.

“Confirmed hits?” asked Dariel.
“Give me a moment Major. Processing data now.” Replied Scarl. His one remaining organic eye rolled back into his head showing only white.
“Data processed. Two confirmed hits on Uriah Jacobs, one confirmed hit on Garvel Hak, Gaius Salomi, Mithras Barak and Phrenz Klightus. No confirmed hits on Dariel Cain.” Said Scarl. His eye rolled back down to its normal arrangement. Garvel was high-fiving everyone.

“That’s two bottles of Amasec you owe me Uriah. Drinks are on me tonight guys.” He laughed to the applause of everyone other then Uriah. Garvel was his squad’s heavy weapons expert. He could disassemble and re-assemble a heavy stubber in 15.8 seconds flat. A burly man in his late thirties, Garvel was a, exceptional soldier. He and his heavy weaponry had saved Dariel’s ass on many occasions. He had a scar running down his left cheek and his right shoulder was entirely augmetic, a gift from an angry Kroot hound of the T’au. He liked to wear his jet black hair short.

“Fine, fine I’ll get them for you later.” Uriah said.
“You got any idea what this siren is for. Something happen with the fleet?” asked Dariel
“As far as I can tell, we are about to emerge from warp transition. Other then that I don’t know.” Said Scarl.
“All ready? That was quick. How long have we been here training?” replied Dariel.
“Roughly eighty seven hours Major, so I suggest that your men go get some well deserved rest.” Said Scarl placing his hand on Dariel’s shoulder.
“Any clue as to where we are heading? I haven’t been told anything.”
“No, when I try to download the data to my memory buffers it says that the data is restricted.”
“Restricted data, sounds like something is going down.” Said Gaius.
“I get that feeling to friend.” Said Dariel. “And it doesn’t feel good.”


She stood on the brink, between rationality and insanity. Before her, through the five metre thick observation glass and behind the rigorous protection of the ships geller field was the warp. A swirling mass of raw emotion, no semblance, always in motion, always changing. To an un educated mind, it would look like a swirling mass of colour, but to one psychically gifted like herself, it was something much more.

It was the raw primordial force of the universe, always a malformed reflection of the reality she lived in. As a psyker, she had the ability to shape the powers of the warp to her will, to use them, but never control them. Some critics believed that the warp controlled psykers themselves, and that that was what made them so dangerous to the Imperium. Other, more fanatical people, believed psykers to be humanities salvation, that they would usher in a new age of enlightenment and knowledge for the Imperium.

Though she didn’t care much what they thought of psykers, she would continue to serve the Throne regardless. She turned from her silent vigil and walked away from the window, issuing a voice command to have the shutters close again. The gargantuan steel shutters closed slowly, causing a loud clang to reverberate around the state room. Without the strange light of the warp, the room descended into near darkness again except for the small glow lamp on her desk.

Its light revealed many ruffled pieces of paper, with seemingly to semblance. She walked over and sat behind the large wooden desk in a cold steel chair, the chill running all up her back.

She tried to give the papers order but found she couldn’t, there were simply too many documents to sort through. Behind her, lounging about on a dark leather sofa, she finally noticed a man. He looked up from the book he was reading and looked at her.
“Hmmm. Must you always have your head in the papers Novia? Come sit, have a drink, read a book, I don’t know maybe go and have some fun.” He said.

“As always Haxtes I must tell you that this is my job and yours as well. I’m trying to learn about the situation we’re getting ourselves into, and the people that we’re dragging down with us. We are Inquisitors, after all, that is what we do is it not?” asked Novia.
“Yes that is what we do but we are entitled to have some fun.” Said Haxtes.
“How can we have fun when the Orks are running rampart throughout the entire Palaran sector? How can we have fun when thousands are dying by the day? Duty only ends in death Haxtes, and only then.” Retorted Novia as she shook her head.

Her stark red hair swaying about her shoulders. A deep contrast to her pale skin. Freckles spotted her small button nose and a small scar from a vocab enhancement ran down the right side of her neck. Haxtes sighed.
“Yet again you make a very un compelling argument Novia. The people of the Palaran sector should be rising up and fighting the Ork threat to their homelands, but instead they cower and wait to be put to the slaughter like cattle. Those kinds of people hardly deserve to be saved at all. And when we get there, we are only there for the mission, not to evacuate the populace. Is that clear?” grumbled Haxtes. Novia gave in.
“As you wish lord.”


Novia had waited until Haxtes had left. He had gone to look for more drinks after he had drank all the alcohol in the room. She had waited until then to call for the servitor. It entered through the room’s main door on a wheeled locomotion. It wore a simple red robe of the local Mechanicum forge, covering its gross augmetics and implants from public view.

It moved over to stand in front of Novia who was sitting on the leather sofa Haxtes had been on only moments ago. A series of clicks and whirs sounded as it lowered itself to the floor.
“How may servitor designation 1101 be of help my lady?” it said in a heavily computerized voice.
“Access record logs of all members of the 1st Legio Infantry Special Operations squad.”
“As you wish my lady. One moment please.” It said. There was a clicking noise coming from under its hood followed quickly by a chime.

“Records found on members of 1st Legio Infantry Special Operations squad. Information is ready to be exloaded at your discretion my lady.” It said, pulling out a data slate from under its robes, its fingers connecting like cables to the input ports.
The data slate flashed into life lighting up the darkened room. It presented six names to Novia. She tapped the first name, changing the screen to a series of flowing columns of data undecipherable to Novia’s eyes.
“Translate if you’d please servitor.” She said

“Of course my lady. Squad leader: Major Dariel Cain, Legio Infantry. Has been in active service for 15 years. Taken part of one hundred and seventy nine covert operations. Leaded one hundred and five of the actions. The major also bears the Winged Skull, the unique Supreme Scarlet Wing and a triple skull medal.” Said the servitor. Impressive thought Novia.
“Any service before the Legio Infantry? PDF duty maybe?” she asked.
“Yes my lady. It says he was an under hive pit fighter of the brutal sort. He was found by a member of the local PDF Commissariat and taken to join the PDF. ” Answered the servitor.
“A Pit fighter? Well I guess that could come in handy.” she said.
“Yes my lady.” Said the servitor.
“Tell me about the others.”
“Yes my lady.”


The ship burst from the warp, tearing itself from the spectral dimension. The rift it had opened spilled multicoloured light into the void. The ship was of gargantuan proportions. A huge stylised skull dominated its prow, the maws of massive lance batteries protruding from its empty eye sockets. The hull was painted in bright silvers and gold’s, the livery of The Legion. It had been hand crafted on Terra many millennia ago, before the Great War that almost snuffed mankind from existence.

Gothic towers burst from its surface, like bony fingers reaching for the distant stars. Weapon systems the size of cargo freights lined its hull, ready to annihilate its foes. The Mortifer Umbra was a ship of war, the mobile fortress monastery of The Legion, a Space Marine chapter that could stake its claim with other greats like the Ultramarines or the Space Wolves. The ship contained its own Mechanicus forge along with a Titan Legion and an entire battle force of Imperial Guard, the Legio Heavy Infantry. Though the majority of the ship was held by the chapter itself.

Trailing behind it was a fleet of much smaller cruisers of many different styles. Dauntless cruisers, Endeavour and Victory battle ships, and even an ancient Apocalypse class vessel. Countless other escorts followed closely behind them.

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Discussion Starter · #9 ·
Chapter One - Part 2

A mighty battle fleet indeed thought Regis Intios as he peered through the glass shielding of the chambers dome walls. He was aboard the Mortifer Umbra in a secluded area where precious few humans were allowed to step. The Chamber of Solitude was a very ancient and revered place aboard the ship among the Space Marine community.

It was even said that The Legion’s Primarch, Jericho himself designed it. Huge golden marble columns lined the chamber’s ringed wall, curving towards the centre of the ceiling and flattening out to make space for a beautifully painted fresco, depicting the angelic forms of Jericho and his most loved brother, Jaghatai, fighting the forces of chaos on the surface of holy Terra during the Horus Heresy.

Incense braziers swung from the hands of stone angels creating a sweet aroma. The only light in the space was that from the stars above.

He was not alone. Two bulky figures emerged from the shadows and into the starlight. They were both armoured in similar wears. Both were clad in large suits of power armour. The first wore a bright red cape that billowed behind his silver and gold armoured form. His shoulder pads resembling large golden skulls. A hefty power sword, easily the length of Regis, sat in a scabbard on his left hip.

Whilst strapped to the other was an ornately carved infernus pistol. Tied to his waist by a golden chain was a large book, words were written on its cover but Regis couldn’t read them. Long scrolls of parchment were looped and tied around his wrist guards. Every single plate of his armour was in its own way, a piece of art. Patterns of wreaths and skulls were etched into the plates. He wore no helmet that most of his kind did, revealing a very stark and rough set of features and a flowing mane of jet black hair.

His companion on the other hand, was so dissimilar to him that he looked like another race altogether. He was of a different sect of The Legion. His armour was entirely a darkened gold colour. The knee pads, shoulder guards and elbows were home to leering black skulls. His large form was covered by a black robe. On the lower half of his back, two exotic short blades were held in even stranger cases.

Strapped to his right thigh was brilliantly crafted plasma pistol. His face was shadowed by a hood, bright blue illumination shone where his eyes should be. Regis knew what he was. He was one of the very few Librarians that The Legion could call its own. He was sure of this from the skull topped staff the man carried, a librarian’s badge of office. Regis had always been wary of psykers, because he knew the harm they could bring upon the people around them.

“Enjoying the view General Regis?” said the caped warrior, coming to a halt in front of Regis. The Librarian waited a respectful distance from the pair. The warrior towered over Regis, at least a head a shoulder taller. Even with Regis’ ornately and painstakingly forged body armour, the usual grey of the Legion Guardsmen, and the countless medals and honours affixed to his chest guard, Regis appeared as a child would next to the mighty warrior.

Regis ran a hand through his thin white hair. He was thinning with age he noticed. He wore a scar down the length of his left ear. Where his right eye should have been, was a large augmetic replacement. The bright green glow of its cover lit up his wrinkled face. He was an old man, of seventy three years, but he had refused to retire. Duty ends in death his father had always told him.
“Yes Captain Eisen, I have heard many stories of this chambers beauty, I see that I have not been misled. I’m deeply honoured that your chapter master granted my requests to see it. I very much needed the opportunity to clear my head before the coming conflict.” Said Regis.

“Remember General, he is your master as well. Your regiment has ancient ties with The Legion, much like the Legio Extremis. You are a part of The Legion, just as the Legion is part of the Imperium.” Said Eisen.
“Yes I forget that sometimes, sorry. Now was there something you wished to tell me?” asked Regis.
“Not myself General, but my friend does.” Said Eisen, gesturing to the Librarian standing a few paces behind them. “He said that it was very important.” Regis turned around to acknowledge the Librarian.
“Very well, what is it.” He said. The Librarian bowed his head and the glowing blue under his hood intensified a hundredfold, searing the darkness back to the edges of the room. Regis felt the temperature suddenly drop marginally. The light under his hood faded but the illumination remained.

The Librarian looked up and staggered towards Regis, grasping him by the shoulders. Regis tried to break free from the hold but it was no use, the Librarian’s strength far beyond his own. Regis found himself staring into the pits of the Librarians glowing blue eyes.
“Soon, in the coming days, an event is going to happen. Something that has not happened for many millennia. There will be a choice. One man must make this choice. The wrong decision will doom billions.” He croaked. Regis tore his eye away from the lustrous light flowing from the Librarian.
“LOOK AT ME!” The Librarian shouted otherworldly. “You must listen to me!”
Regis looked back at the Librarian. “Tell me, who is the man that must make this choice?” he asked.

“That, regrettably I do not know human. Now listen to me. This event will take place in the Palaran sector, on which planet I do not know, but never the less the Imperium must stop it. For is not, billions will die.” The light faded from his eyes until none was left. The strange illumination keeping the shadows at bay failed suddenly and the darkness crept back over the chamber. The Librarian released Regis and began to fall.

Before he hit the hard ground Eisen was under him and halted his descent. Even the Captain looked worried and surprised by what the Librarian had said.
“What was that about?” said Regis, barely managing to make the words.
“I don’t know, but any warning should not be taken lightly General.” Replied Eisen.
“I know I certainly will not Captain Eisen.” Said Regis, regain his composure.
“Well I must be off; I have to brief the men that the Inquisitors will be making planet fall with. I will certainly be telling them of this meeting though. Perhaps the Inquisitors can make some sense of it.”
“Yes, perhaps they can general.” Said Eisen.
Regis made his way hurriedly from the Chamber of Solitude, vowing never again to enter the walls, to never again relive the things he saw in the Librarians eyes.


The war room was buzzing with movement. Crewmen and servitors rushed about, carrying data slates and info wafers for their commanders. Activity had really begun when info feeds from the Planets below began to flood the ship. The war room was situated within the Legio Guard section of the Mortifer Umbra, however small it was.

A full half of the ship was dominated by The Legion itself, whilst the majority of remaining space was handed over the Mechanicum. Forges and bristling hive complexes as well as the huge silos of the Legio Extremis which held their mighty engines of war, the Titans. What space was held by the Legio Infantry was mainly taken up by Hives to house the Regiment itself, some seven hundred thousand strong. Though the full force of the regiment was never in the ship at one time. The bulk of the regiment was spread thin in small fighting companies ten thousand strong in various crusades across the Imperium. The situation in the Palaran sector was bad.

The Orks had completely overrun five of the seven planets. Small bands of local PDF were fighting back, but offering little resistance for the horde of orks sweeping across their lands.

Dariel had learnt this days ago and was not surprised to see the orks had almost gained complete control; it was only a matter time. He walked into the war room with the others of his squad trailing behind him. He headed for the only clearing in the commotion. General Regis stood labouring over a large chart table. He looked up when Dariel approached.
“Ah Dariel, thank you for coming, there is something urgent that we need to discuss.” Said Regis. Dariel noticed that he sounded worried.
“What’s wrong Regis, what happened?” asked Dariel.
“Nothing, not yet at least. I have been given a warning and I think we need to act on it and fast.” Answered Regis.
“Who gave you a warning and what is it? Why are my team here as well?”

“One of The Legion’s few Librarians ‘spoke’ to me; he said that something terrible would occur soon, here in the Palaran sector. I have not taken this lightly, but I cannot reveal this information freely amongst the ships occupants. Panic would surely take them.”
“Wait, hold on a minute. What is going to happen? When?”
“That is the downside; the Librarian could not tell me that, he himself did not know. All he knows is that it is going to happen in this sector.”
“So you want us to go looking for signs of anything that could hint towards what is going to happen?” asked Dariel.

“Yes and no Major, yes I need you to search but then no because your squad is needed for something else as well. On board now, there are two Inquisitors of the Ordo Hereticus. They are going to be making planet fall on Palara Maximus within the next 24 hours.”
“Why the hell would the Inquisition be interested in an ork infested planet?”
“That Dariel is something I can explain. For weeks now you will have been aware or the ork invasion in the sector I’m sure, but what you may not be aware of is that the ork seemingly random attacks across the sector have all been strategic in nature.”

“Strategy from Orks? You have to be joking General.” Laughed Mithras Barak off to Dariel’s right. Mithras was the squad’s sharpshooter and stealth expert. He could hit a Tyranid gaunt right between the eyes at a hundred paces. He was the second youngest of the group, only Uriah was younger. His short blond hair was wet from the shower he had had moments before heading for the war room with Dariel and the others. He wore simple grey fatigues and had a lap pistol holstered at his waist. Regis’ face remained as stern as rockcrete.

“Do I look like I’m joking Mithras?” he asked. The smile quickly faded from Mithras’ face.
“No sir, you don’t. Sorry sir.” He said.
“Please continue General.” Said Dariel.
“Thank you Dariel. As I was saying, over the past few weeks the Orks have managed to take out the entire communications network, as well as the power network on all planets.”
“So what do the Inquisitors have to do with all of this?” asked Dariel.
“They believe that something is behind these orchestrated attacks. They seem to think that the forces of the Archenemy are guiding the Orks.” Answered Regis. Dariel heard Uriah gasp. Dariel stood there resolute, arms folded across his chest.

“And where does my squad and I fit in to all of this mess?” said Dariel.
“As I said, the Inquisitors will be making planet fall within the next day. You and your squad will act as an escort. You will have control of all military actions but the Inquisitors will lead in all other fields. Though whilst you are on the planet’s surface I want you to be looking out for any signs of something ghastly that may be about to happen.”
Dariel sighed, placing a hand over his face.
“Yes general. Any more surprises I should know about?” he said.
“Ah yes there is actually. When you reach the surface the ship will be breaking orbit and heading for Palara Primus. We have to assist the local PDF who are struggling to hold back the orks. Without aid, they will most definitely break and be slaughtered. So you will be on your own until such a time as we can return.” Said Regis.

“What about The Legion itself? Where do they fit into all of this? Surely they would be better suited for the mission.” Said Dariel.
“When I asked all they told me is that almost their entire chapter is being ferried of the ship and sent to a distant crusade. Something about the Necrons I think, so they have their hands full.” Answered Regis.
“Is that all general?” asked Dariel.
“No, there is someone else who needs to speak with you.” Said Regis. A doorway behind the chart table slid opened and another figure emerged. He wore a suit of tight fitting carapace armour covered by a grey trench coat. A scar ran over his right eye, it had been left a milky orb from whatever had caused it.

From his rank badges on his right shoulder, Dariel noticed he was a Lieutenant Colonel. On his left shoulder was the symbol of the Legio Armoured Company, a Baneblade super heavy blasting away at an unseen target.
Regis turned to regard the newcomer.

“Ah, Atellus. Impeccable timing as always. He is here and ready to hear what you have to say.” He said.
Lieutenant Colonel Atellus Wollsey saluted smartly and looked straight at Dariel.
“Major Dariel Cain, I come not on my own business but that of the local Mechanicum community. As you know the orks down of the planets below are ravaging the PDF forces stationed there. They are getting help with their labours from a very rare pattern of Baneblade. An Exterminator to be exact. They looted it from an Imperial Guard Regiment on a forge world sectors away.” He spoke.
“And what does this have to do with me?” said Dariel.
“The local Mechanicum know of your journey to the surface of Palara Maximus. We are certain that the Baneblade is there, and we want you to get it back.”
Despite himself, Dariel laughed.

“No disrespect or anything sir but how the frakk do you expect my team to get you back a Baneblade?”
“Well not exactly get it back but to secure it. If you can find the vehicle and get it to a safe location, then the Mechanicum will send down a Lander to retrieve it.” Said Atellus.
“And if we can’t?” asked Dariel.
“Then the Mechanicum won’t be very happy, but they will understand. We simply ask you to try, after all, Baneblades are very hard to manufacture and losing one to the green skins would be a blow to the Mechanicum. But I have already taken up enough of your time. I must be going, thank you Major.” Said Atellus before walking out the door he came in.

“Alright then Dariel, I think that is all. Now keep what I have told you in mind, and none of you are to speak of what was said here to anyone else. Is that clear?” asked Regis, directing his gaze to the men standing behind Dariel. None spoke a word, they simply saluted.
“Good. Oh and before you go Dariel. No need to be telling the Inquisitors about this just yet. I haven’t met them myself so I don’t know if we can trust them. Work that out for yourself.”
“Yes sir.” Replied Dariel.
“Ok off with you then. Stay alive, the paper work for dead commandos is hell.” Laughed Regis. Everyone joined in the laughter with him, everyone except Dariel.


Dariel trudged along the steel gantry above the hard working menials and serf whilst making final checks on his gear. When fully bedecked for a mission, Dariel was a fearsome sight indeed. A large suit of Heavy Carapace armoured covered his muscled frame, all visible armour plates were coloured in varying greens and browns the match the planets scenery.
On both shoulder guards were golden winged skulls, a medal awarded for exceptional leadership.

On each thigh a large bolt pistol was holstered. Over his right shoulder was a large serrated combat knife, much like those used by the Catachan Devils. And over his left was a high powered Las carbine in a decorated leather casing. Strung across his chest were strings of both Frag and Krakk grenades. Multiple pouches and pockets held spare power cells along with other equipment designed with stealth in mind. He jumped up and down to make sure nothing rattled and made unwanted sound.

He checked the sharpness of his knife on his thumb, barely a touch left a trail of blood. He cleaned in and slotted it back into place. Behind him, his team were making similar checks of their own weaponry and kit Ahead of him a doorway opened up into the launch bay. On the cold steel decks there was only one craft, his. He headed for the nearest stairway down to admire his pride and joy up close.

To the untrained eye it looked like a normal Valkyrie gunship with a modified cockpit, it was widened to allow for more than two occupants. But to someone who knew it, it was like having a flying tank. Under its wings were Hell strike missile boxes, large proton torpedoes and incendiary grenade launchers. The underside of its prow was dominated by two immense assault cannons, capable of spewing out fifteen thousand rounds a minute.
Dariel looked back over his shoulder as he neared the Valkyrie.

“Go get your gear stowed. Uriah, make the pre flight checks.” He said. As his team hurried to follow his orders Dariel walked over to the Valkyrie’s outer hull and placed a hand on its trade mark symbol. A normal guardsman standing over the corpse of a traitorous Space Marine with a smoking bolt pistol in hand. The crafts name was etched into the hull under the icon. Star Killer.

The loading ramp was down and bulk lifter servitors were hefting large crates and containers into the space inside. They hurriedly went about their jobs before backing off swiftly to allow a team of crewmen to drive a large jeep onboard. On its back a heavy stubber was mounted along with swivel attached hell guns to its side. It would be the team’s only ground transport apart from foot.

Behind him, Dariel heard heavy, armoured footsteps. He turned to notice the Inquisitors making their way towards him. The first to catch his eye was a male. It was hard not to notice him from his bright red great coat, golden silk was inlaid in the fabric to create strange patterns and symbols of a manner Dariel could not fathom.

Two antique looking long barrelled pistols were holstered at his hips, partnered with a ceremonial sabre. Under his coat was a suit of finely made, interlocking plates of dark silver armour, making him look more robotic then man. The Inquisitor was bald with strange tattoos covering his shaven scalp. Dariel could tell by the way the man walked that at least one of his legs was augmetic.

His partner on the other hand was female. She wore a tight fitting black body glove that highlighted the subtle curves of her body. A silver pendant in the shape of the Inquisitorial ‘I’ hung between her breasts. Around her neck was the pelt of an unknown animal from some distant world. A small but no doubt powerful pistol sat at her hip. Various other weapons, knives, explosives and other deadly apparatus were expertly hidden over her body glove.
Long red hair flowed over her shoulders, a stark contrast to her pale skin. Freckles spotted her cheeks and button nose.

All in all she was a beautiful woman thought Dariel. He was brought from his thoughts as the Inquisitors approached him. The man moved close and held out a hand. Dariel took the offered hand and shook hard. Make a good first impression his father had always said.
“Major Cain, good to meet you. I have been reading up on your records and I must say that they were impressive.” Said the Inquisitor.
“I thank you......” he began.
“Ah, Inquisitor Haxtes Ravion, and this is Inquisitor Novia Taura.” He said, gesturing to the female standing beside him. She gave a polite courtesy and smiled.

Haxtes looked over Dariel’s shoulder and at Star Killer. A look of dismay played across his face.
“And what is this behind you Major?” he asked.
“This, Inquisitor, is our transportation for the duration of the mission.” Said Dariel.
“But it’s a Valkyrie.” Said Haxtes, sounding a little underwhelmed.

“Yes, but it’s my Valkyrie so it would do you well to treat it with some respect. It’s served me well for the past few years, and hopefully will for the next few days.” Said Dariel.
“Hmm. Yes.” Said Haxtes regarding Star Killer again. “Well where is the rest of your squad? I would like to inspect them before departure.”
“Ok then.” Said Dariel, turning back to face Star Killer. “Get back out here you lot! We have some guests.” He shouted. The team hurried out of Star Killer and down the loading ramp to make a line behind Dariel. Haxtes walked over to the first.
“Name?” he said casually.

“Gaius Salomi sir, I’m the team’s medic.” Stated Gaius. Gaius had been a friend of Dariel’s for most of his life. They had served together in the Silon PDF, the planet of their birth. Gaius had been attached to the 19th Officio Medicae and had managed to patch Dariel up on many different occasions. They were both of the same age, thirty eight. Gaius’ hair was very much similar to Dariel’s, he was a very normal looking man all told.
Haxtes moved on to the next in line.
“Name?” he said again.

“Garvel Hak sir. Team’s Heavy Weapons operator.” Came the answer. Dariel hadn’t know Garvel for nearly as long as he had Gaius but they still had a strong friendship. Dariel had never known Garvel had even existed until he was moved to his squad to replace losses. Garvel had served on the rosters of the Arna PDF, a planet not far from Silon. Haxtes appeared little the way impressed by what he had seen so far.
Dariel had an immediate dislike for the man already. The Inquisitor moved further down the line.
“Name?” he repeated.

“Uriah Jacobs sir, but you can just call me jakes, everyone else does. I’m the demolitions man sir.” Came the next reply. Uriah was the youngest serving guardsman Dariel had ever seen. He was the newest addition to the team. He had joined only a few months ago. Dariel had heard stories about him from Garvel; he said that he had never served with such a stout young man. Uriah certainly lived up to his reputation. He could make a powerful explosive from almost anything a regular guardsman would disregard as broken or unsalvageable. The only downside to his cheery personality was he never could learn to shut up. His face was free from the scars that many of his older companions wore with pride. His bright blue eyes lit up his tanned face. Even at such a young age the boy’s hair was a brilliant white.
“I think I will keep it as Uriah.” Said Haxtes, sounding a little too bothered. He moved down the line again.
“Name?” he said yet again.

“Phrenz Klightus sir.” Said the next man in line.
“And what do you do?” asked Haxtes.
“I’m the Engineer sir.” Said Phrenz. He was a man of few words. He came from the same planet as Garvel and Uriah, Arna. He was a great engineer. He would be able to fix almost any problem with anything mechanical. He wore his dull grey hair at shoulder length. His left eye had been modified by the Mechanicus, it allowed him to see thermal images of the working parts of a machine. Though Dariel had also found it useful for night operations.
Haxtes moved down to the last person in the line.

“Mithras Barak sir. Sharpshooter.” He said without Haxtes having to ask. Even though Dariel had not known Mithras for long, he had already made great friends with him. Mithras had saved most people in the squad with a well placed shot from afar. He wore his blonde hair short, his grey eyes a heavy contrast.
“Ok then, well if we are all done packing up the craft then all of you should get aboard now.” Haxtes said impatiently.
The whole squad looked over at Dariel. He just nodded and they ran back up the loading ramp to make ready for takeoff.

Haxtes made to walk after them, with his partner Novia in toe. Dariel stopped him by placing his palm against the inquisitor’s chest.
‘What is it now Major?” Haxtes said angrily.
“The coat.” Said Dariel.
“What about it?”
“Take it off, now.”
“But why?” said Haxtes. Dariel sighed.
“Because, this is a mission of stealth , and even as dumb as orks are I’m sure that they will be able to spot a bright red idiot sleuthing through the undergrowth.” Explained Dariel.
Dariel was sure he heard Novia manage a small laugh. Haxtes growled and took of the coat, throwing it at the nearest deck hand.
“Take that to my quarters and if it is damaged in any way when I get back then I will shot you myself.” He shouted.

The deck hand barely managed a word before running off to perform his new orders.
Dariel heard Haxtes mutter curses under his breath as he walked past him into the Valkyrie. Dariel nodded to Novia as she walked past him. He walked up the ramp and hit the raise button for the ramp. It slid up loudly and made a metallic clang as it crashed against the cold steel. The crew bay was bathed in a dark red light.

Whether the Archenemy were involved with the orks on the surface or not. Dariel’s team would bring one hell of a bomb down on their head regardless. Looking over at Haxtes’ angry face he just hoped that it wouldn’t detonate early.

Making Vidya Games
2,030 Posts
Im going to tell you the same thing that I tell others: Don't be surprised if people do not comment on this for a long time, that doesn't mean that people are not reading this. Keep it up though, its interesting. Mad-Lib-esque too.
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