# Word Bearers Short Story



## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Here's a small excerpt from a longer story i'm working on, feel free to criticize and comment. Note: This story has the Word Bearers as an antagonist, it is labeled 'Word Bearers Short Story" because originally I thought I was only going to post this part however I have changed my mind and plan to post more of the story as I go.

The sun slowly rose over the northern mountain ranges of Reghaard V casting a dim orange-tinged light over the urban metropolis of Cyran Hive, which served as the capital of the planet. As did the sun the citizens of Cyran Hive rose at dawn and began their daily routines, be it living as a manufactorum worker or as a lowlife gangster trying to carve their name into the history of the capital. 

The dawn's early light blinded Dion 'Lucky' Hrad as he opened his eyes, his head pounding from drinking too much liquor. He was of a slight build, with black hair and light skin. He bent over the side of his bed and carefully picked up Emperor's Justice from on the floor beside his bedding. It was his most prized possession, a master-crafted plasma pistol he had stolen from a dead Arbites judge. Dion smiled as he remembered the old gak trying to arrest him, when Mod jumped him with his namesake- a modified lasgun- and blew his head off with an overcharged power cell. Dion managed to take it before Mod got his hands on it. His flashback was abruptly interrupted as Shady yelled up to him "Lucky, you might want to come see this!" He quickly leapt out of the bed, making sure not to wake Vara -or was it Ana, he couldn't remember- and ran out of the door. He saw Vara holding her autopistol so he knew who was inside. 

"What is it Shady?"

"Look up there" Shady said pointing toward the Governor's Palace.

A bright light was steadily growing above the city. "So, what's you're point?"

With a grim look Shady said, "The sun rises behind us."

"Then what the gak is tha-" That was all that left Dion's mouth before the ground around him was torn asunder by the orbital bombardment. 
* * *

Dark Apostle Xerrus grinned as the long range lances on the Hellfire fired upon the unsuspecting followers of the Corpse-Emperor. He stood resplendent in his ancient power armor, daemonic faces masterfully carved onto his breastplate where a winged skull once was, nearly ten thousand years ago. His helmet bore four large curling horns, with symbols of the Dark Gods carved into each one, and with an eight-pointed star resting upon his brow. His armor was the dark red of his Legion, with the burning skull emblazoned on his pauldron. In his right hand he bore his Crozius Arcanum, the symbol of his office and in his left he carried a bolt pistol "Why do you scream?" he said in a mocking tone, "You should be rejoicing, the Marines are here. The true Marines." He turned to the daemon bound to the weapons systems. It bared enormous fangs at him and began to emit a wail that would have driven a lesser man insane: or one who wasn't already. "Be quiet you pitiful waste of the Gods' energies." The wail continued. Calmly Xerrus lifted his Crozius and faster than the eye could follow stabbed it into the creature's eye. "That will teach you to obey your superiors." With its remaining three eyes it glared evilly at the receding figure of the Apostle. "Transmit to all ships." The transmission daemon began to click in response to his words. "All Word Bearers are to descend upon the capital in 1 hour." Laughing, he added "Don't forget to load your boltguns, some must have survived." With a final flourish of his human hide cloak he boldly strode to the teleporter on the command deck saying "Prepare all units for deployment. Let us show the Imperial fools who are the real powers in this galaxy." 

A sudden feeling like being torn apart agonizingly crept throughout Xerrus' body as he was transported through the warp onto the decimated world. It felt as though a thousand needles pierced him while being peeled apart. His nervous system cried out in pain and Xerrus reveled in it, the energy of the ruinous powers permeating the space around him for infinite distances. It was pain but it was a good pain, his survival showing his gods' favor. Daemonic voices babbled incoherently in his head threatening to shatter his will, but he was stronger than they and with contemptuous ease ejected the intruders from his mind. Then, as quickly as it began the teleportation ritual was complete and the Apostle was standing in front of the ruined Imperial Palace. He began to slowly walk toward it relishing the thought of finishing off the survivors, their warm lifeblood being spilled across the floor. He could almost hear their screams as they died. Xerrus nimbly leapt over a ruined column lying in the street before him, the remains of an Imperial Aquila strewn across the ground. How symbolic, he thought, where we go the Imperium falls. With one last loathing look he began to resume his march upon the Palace, listening as his fellow Marines landed in the city around him.


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## Lopspoon (Jun 23, 2009)

Great short story, I'd love to read more, no critisisms sorry, it's just perfect!


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

You know how to write a story and I like it... But I might suggest dividing your story into paragraphs to make it easier for readers...


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Thank you for your input, and I will follow up on your advice


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Okay, just wrote next portion of the story, (almost an eighth of the way done!) Note: this portion is very dialog heavy, also read first post again if you are confused as to why this has IG.

One. He carefully peered into his scope, aligning the crosshairs over the target with pinpoint accuracy as he pulled the trigger. Two. With but a slight movement he found another target and fired directly at its head. Three. With expert skill he began to focus in on another figure. He let out his breath slowly and-

"Hey gak for brains!"

With an exasperated sigh Ellothar Worlic turned away from the sniping range aboard the Emperor's Wrath and glared at his friend from across the corridor.

"Commisar Hard-Ass has ordered us all to the meeting hall"

Worlic stared at Izarius "What for? Is he finally going to rebuke you for the constant insults?"

"Hah, you wish. He didn't give any details just told us all to get over there in 30 minutes"

Worlic continued to stare "When did he tell you this?"

Izarius laughed as he responded "An hour ago."

Worlic began to break into a run, his thin legs carrying him across the deck with all haste. Izarius may be strange but he was right about one thing; Commisar Brogun didn't accept any excuses and gave no pity. With how harsh the Commisar was, not following an order was almost a guarantee to a penal colony. Frankly, he preferred being with the Pridian 5th; with his slight figure and flowing hair he wouldn't last long in a penal colony. :wink: It never ceased to amaze him that Izarius was still around for all the fun he made of Brogun and his insubordination. He willed his legs to go faster as he sped down the long metal corridors of the vast starship. Praising the Emperor he entered the meeting hall near the regiment's quarters and tried to remain unnoticed as he passed through the doorway. Izarius boisterously entered behind him. The Commisar stood in the far corner of the hall, his steely, cold eyes passing over the assembled Guardsmen. Colonel Aram Krofman continued with his oration, speaking in a respectful tone that was the reason most of the regiment liked him.

"We received a message via astropath from the planet Reghaard V. It has caused much concern with the general as the planet is vital to supplying the surrounding systems."

A pale, skeletal figure came forth, his pallid, waxy skin sagging around his arms. He stood in the center of the room and began to repeat the message.

+This is Governor Marus of Reghaard V requesting immediate assistance from nearby military personnel. The planet has been invaded; we have a possible moral threat. I repeat, we have a possible moral…. What was that? + 
An agonized wail sounded that instilled fear in the men, followed by harsh laughter.
+This, is our world now+

Silence filled the room as the Guardsmen of the Pridian 5th dwelled on the message, unable to shake a feeling of unease when they thought of that last statement. Much to Worlics dismay, Izarius spoke up.

"As I wasn't born yesterday, I'm going to assume that the higher-ups want us to go and do the dirty work." 

Colonel Krofman dryly stated "Your powers of observation astound me. However did you figure that out?"

"Because the General's a ball-less gak."

The Commisar bristled at that, seemingly eager to punish Izarius, but remained silent. 

"Yeah well that 'ball-less gak' has ordered us to check it out, we'll be entering the warp in one hour, go prepare yourselves.


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## Crimson_fists (Oct 19, 2008)

The first bit was pretty good, though as waltzmelancholy_07 already stated, a bit blocky and hard to concentrate. 

The second was entertaining as well as being quite humorous. The first paragraph is written really well, and instantly grabs a readers attention. The paragraphing is also better. All in all, good work BloodAngelsFan! PM me if you post some more, as i'd like to read more. + rep mate! :drinks:


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

I liked it... And I have to agree with Crimson fist about the humor... Nicely done:victory:...


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Edited first portion


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Here's the next portion of the story.

As Worlic strode to his chambers, he began to admire the artistry that surrounded him. Rushing through the chambers and corridors he had not had the time to examine the statues of saints that lined the hallways, or the massive mural of the Emperor by the sniping range. He calmly retrieved his Mars pattern long-las that he had dropped in his haste. A feeling of serenity settled over Worlic as he returned to the regiment's barracks and strapped into the metal couch located at the back of his room. One by one the members of his squad filed in behind him. There was Izarius, followed by Konrad, Flowe, Kith, Rofar and the new guy Crill.

Izarius stood around six feet tall, with a strong build and tightly cropped brown hair. 'Lefty' as Konrad was known, was in direct contrast, he was five feet tall with a mane of golden hair that hung below his shoulders which he carefully brushed out of his eyes with his bionic right hand. He had lost his real hand when they were defending an Imperial settlement, an Ork launched itself through the window of the building they were holed out in and began to swing around a jagged piece of metal with reckless abandon. Konrad had draped himself over its neck and was trying to choke it when it swung its 'choppa' and severed his hand, not to mention its own collarbone. He still found grim amusement when he thought of the Ork accidentally killing itself. 

Flowe for the most part was average, he stood around five and a half feet in height, had brown hair. The only thing that made him different was his face; it was horribly scarred after a promethium tank exploded and seared away the skin above his shoulders. He had been attended to and had skin grafted onto his face, yet he was still disfigured. His eyes bulged out of their sockets and if one tried they could see the wet glistening muscles that moved them, writhing around with a sickening squelching noise. As well his jaw did not properly close and was partially open at all times. Worlic involuntarily shuddered as Flowe looked at him.

Kith and Rofar were twins, exactly alike in all physical aspects; However where Kith was quiet and withdrawn Rofar was loud and outgoing. Trying to be comical Izarius made them wear name tags everywhere they went. They had joined the regiment only a year ago but everyone respected them. Together they had killed little over ten Eldar with no assistance while stranded behind enemy lines.

Lastly was Crill, the new guy. No one really knew anything about him, he had been enlisted into the Guard less than a month ago, and this was going to be his first battle. Something about him reminded Worlic of himself, yet he couldn't quite say what.

+This is Colonel Krofman; we are to be entering the warp in 1 minute+

With a disturbed feeling in the pit of his stomach Worlic braced himself as the warp drives activated and they were propelled through the Immaterium. The ship began to groan as the Geller Field repelled the insanity of the warp. After what seemed an eternity the ship re-entered real space. Worlic heard Izarius laughing.

"What's so funny?"

With a beaming grin and a chuckle Izarius replied "The new guy shit himself."


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

At long last I have resumed writing this story! As before feel free to criticize/comment etcetera. 

An eerie mist had settled over the shattered remains of Cyran Hive. The ruins of mankind's creations lay strewn across the ground. Corpses lined the streets decaying and filling the city with their stench. Everywhere sigils were written on sundered walls in the blood of the innocent, sigils that seemed to writhe across the surfaces. Dark Apostle Xerrus walked toward the Imperial Temple, his new, gruesome trophies hanging from his belt by blood encrusted hair. The city was now a beautiful thing. A place devoted to the Ruinous Powers. Xerrus imagined the world being slowly corrupted, the followers of the Copse-Emperor finally seeing the truth; that their god was dead. He imagined legions of daemons outside the capital with him as their leader. He would lead a campaign and strike a blow to the Imperium from which it would never recover! He would become Warmaster and complete that which even Horus could not by claiming Terra for Chaos! Xerrus snapped out of his mental reverie as he heard a slight noise down an alley to his right. He bared his teeth in a predatory grin. With skill developed over centuries he silently crept through debris that cluttered the ground, focusing on finding his newest prey. 

Through the gloom he could see the form of a woman, with a lean body and flowing blonde hair. One arm dangled uselessly at her side, the other was tightly clenching a laspistol, aiming it in front of her. It was a useless thing, the power cell was empty. A pity, thought Xerrus as he raised his Bolt Pistol, that the woman had no use of her arm; he had wanted his victim to put up a meager resistance. 

"Dion? Shady? Is anyone there?"

As the woman obliviously stood there, Xerrus decided that a quick death was too merciful; after all she did have a weapon aimed at him. Xerrus lowered his aim and fired two quick shots at her legs. The mass-reactive rounds tore through the flesh and bone, blood pooled around the ragged stumps. He reveled in her terror as he stepped from the shadows of the alleyway with his Crozius in hand. Her screams echoed through the necropolis, cries of pain and fear. With surgical precision Xerrus severed her arms at the shoulders. Blood began to pulse out of the exposed arteries, meandering around the muscle tissue that hung loosely in the air. Her screams grew ever louder. Dropping his Crozius, Xerrus placed one hand firmly on what remained of her shoulders, and grasped the top of her head with the other. His hands began to slowly pull apart. The further his hands were apart the louder her screams. With a final tearing sound her head came clear of her neck. He dangled the head from his belt, the mouth left open in a perpetual scream with small traces of blood leaking from the corners. Leaving the alleyway, Dark Apostle Xerrus walked toward the Imperial Temple, his new, gruesome trophies hanging from his belt by blood encrusted hair.

* * *

With a tremendous report Xerrus entered the Imperial Temple, where his commanders stood attentively. The Temple was gargantuan, the vaulted ceilings soaring hundreds of feet over their heads. Frescoes depicting the "glory" of the Imperium were displayed at regular intervals on the northern and southern walls. In one it showed the Blood Angels Primarch, Sanguinius, standing triumphant over the bodies of 'heretics'. Xerrus disdainfully shot the image of the Primarch through the chest. 

"Brothers, our enemies move against us. Several regiments of Imperial Guard have arrived to reclaim their 'precious' capital, along with two companies of Astartes. Vheel, I am ordering you to take half of our forces and cross the plains west of the city where the Marines are establishing a base camp. Fight off any forces sent towards us."

The sorcerer nodded his head in acknowledgement, the gems inlaid into his helmet reflecting the dim light in mesmerizing patterns. 

"Vitios, set up the stolen artillery along the mountains near the eastern wall.. Wait for my signal to begin bombarding the enemy positions. Mitus, I want you to lead an assault on the flank of the Imperial Guard's camp, position yourself, along with five squads, a kilometer from the enemy position until the artillery falls silent, then charge in. Interitus will remain behind to defend the Palace."

"And what will you be doing, Xerrus?" asked Vitios in a deep, resonant voice.

"I will be overseeing the ritual."


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Next part of the story. This part is VERY dialogue heavy, so much so it makes the second part seem to have no dialogue in comparison.


The Valkyrie soared overhead, the sound of its engines filling the air with a monotone wail. It was closely followed by four more, the powerful gunships flying barely twenty meters above their heads. Worlic had always wondered what it would be like to pilot one. He had always imagined that unleashing that much firepower on the enemy would somehow make life in the Guard slightly better than the hell it was. He looked over at the prone form of Izarius next to him.

"I was jus thinking"

In reply Izarius mumbled "I can't hear you. Sleeping"

"I was just thinking about how they always told you how much of an honor being in the Guard was. How the priests always told you about glorious battles against the enemies of mankind. About traveling the stars. I dreamt of joining the Guard when I was little, I hoped that someday I could fight for the Emperor, kill xenos in His name."

Izarius began to burst out laughing

"And on the day I first boarded that starship I realized that there's nothing worse than life in the Imperial fething Guard." 

"Well, you're stuck with the Guard now, and you're never leaving. Like they say, only in death-"

"Only in death does duty end, I know. I can't help but think how depleted His armies would be if the priests told the people how awful life in the Guard really was."

"You know that doesn't matter, every Imperial planet has to form regiments as part of its tithes. There would just be a lot more penal regiments, and probably more commissars."

As if mentioning the word summoned him Commissar Brogun marched toward them, his stern face twisted in anger. His storm coat lay draped over his shoulders with his various medals attached on the left half of his chest. His bolt pistol sat loosely in a holster tied around his torso, easily within reach to deal with the enemy… or a Guardsman. As he approached Brogun began to open his mouth to speak.
Before the Commissar could say anything Izarius cut in.

"Hey, how's the girl?"

"What girl?"

"You just came from the General's quarters, and I was under the impression that if something had no balls it was a girl."

Brogun's face reddened in anger as he yelled "You insolent wretch, you will show respect to your commanding officer! I will put you on charges; I will send you to die with the scum in the penal regiments! I will shoot you where you stand!"

"Go on Tracy, smite me down with the Emperor's wrath." replied Izarius, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Brogun began to smile. Worlic couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what would make Brogun smile. He knew that whatever it was wouldn't end well for him or Izarius. 

"What I was trying to inform you of is that I have been placed in control of the late Major Roklin's company."

Worlic's heart sank. "But that's our-"

"Yes, that's your company, and I've been assigned to personally lead your squad."

Izarius began to mumble "Why you cheeky son of a-"

That was all Izarius could say before the Commissar backhanded him across the cheek, laying him low and causing blood to pour out of his mouth. Just when Worlic was going to ask if his friend was okay laughter began to bubble forth. Izarius got back to his feet with a grin plastered on his face. Worlic began to think he had gone mad.

"Now I can make fun of that grox-loving gak all the time!"

"You certainly know how to make the best of a terrible situation."

"Whatever, let's head back to the barracks. I'll try and make up that sleep you so rudely awakened me from"

Worlic and Izarius began to head toward their bunks in the company barracks that had been established, Izarius lighting a lho stick and beginning to inhale the fumes. The sun cast its bright gaze on the camp, heating the ground and illuminating the quickly created buildings. The rumble of treads could be heard as the other Pridian regiments began to advance forward toward the Pridian 5th's position. The day seemed to usher in a new stage of progress in reclaiming Reghaard V. That's when all hell broke loose. 

* * *

Artillery could be heard firing miles away, a deep boom echoing through the warm air. The first artillery shells destroyed the Pridian 23rd's Leman Russ tanks as well as slaughtering several score of infantry. The landing pad where the Pridian 35th was still disembarking their transports was demolished and half of the regiments was slain in the initial minutes of the bombardment. The Pridian 5th remained relatively unscathed, having advanced much further ahead to do reconnaissance, yet numerous stray shells had landed sewing chaos and destruction throughout the ranks. Vox reports said that the Adeptus Astartes had engaged a large host of enemy troops to the west and the second company was being driven back. Orders were being relayed into the earpieces of the infantrymen of the 5th.

+Colonel Krofman to A, B, D and E companies, form up into squads and advance onward to the Capital. With any luck we'll get away from the bombardment. C and F companies locate and disable the guns at all costs. We can't win this without armour or support. +

Commissar Brogun's voice rang out in their earpieces. 
+C Company, group up and head north for two kilometers, then head east into the mountain range. If these beasts follow any form of logic then the natural shelves along the mountains would be the most likely spot to find those guns. +

Within the hour the veteran regiment had begun to scale the cliffs, the sound of the artillery growing gradually louder as they approached the mountain known as "Eagle's Peak". They located the artillery behind a small ridge on the southern face. The Pridian were a regiment that had fought hordes of cultists and fanatics, the savage Orks and even assisted in defeating the Eldar alongside the Crimson Fists. But even the bravest men in the regiment couldn't help but be afraid at the first glimpse of their enemy. Chaos Marines.

* * *

+Brogun to Krofman, please respond. +

+What is it Commissar? +

+It's the Word Bearers sir. +

+What? Please repeat that statement. +

+The Word Bearers are manning the artillery, and if my assumptions are correct then this is only a small detachment from the main force. +

+ …Shit… + 

+ Sir? +

+I'll try to requisition an airstrike on the enemy position, state the coordinates. +

+ 42,006: 56,896 + 

+Coordinates received, air support is inbound. Just keep your heads down and pray to the Emperor that the Marauders kill them all. +

The sound of someone crying drowned out the conversations of the Pridians. Commissar Brogun quickly hurried over to its source. Finn was a new recruit, taken aboard the same day as Crill, and he had a wide reputation as the most mentally unstable person in the regiment. He would often be found talking to himself, or having sudden fits of rage. The sight of the traitors had simply sent him over the edge. He sat curled up in a ball, mumbling.

"We're going to die, we're going to die, we are all going to die" 

He repeated it over and over again between his racking sobs. Worlic couldn't help but feel strange at the sight of a soldier crying like a child. It began to get to him and a sense of doom clouded his mind. Worlic quickly fought down the defeatist thoughts as the Commissar walked toward him. 

"Sniper, give me your sidearm."

"Sir is that really necessary?"

Worlic was amazed at how Brogun managed to yell and manage his volume at the same time. 
"Now, Emperor damn you!"

Worlic hurriedly handed the pistol to Brogun. Brogun determinedly marched toward Finn. His gaze settled angrily on the recruit as he swapped the spent power cell Worlic had left in his sidearm.

"Be quiet."

The sobbing continued.

"I order you to be quiet."

As the sobbing continued Brogun raised the laspistol and aimed it between Finn's eyes. He squeezed the trigger and a smoking hole appeared where the bridge of Finn's nose had once been.

"Anyone else want to say something about our current predicament? No? Good."


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Darkness shrouded Dark Apostle Xerrus like a cloak as he entered the ritual designs etched on the ground in the blood of the Governor, whose innards were spread across the stone slab that sat in the center of the cold plasteel floor. Nine candles, placed on each of the vertices of a nonagon, shed a dim light on the walls that changed colors maddeningly. Nine hooded acolytes stood at equal intervals chanting blasphemous prayers to the Ruinous Powers. As the chanting continued the blood on the floor began to glow with a bluish tinge. All that was required now was the body of an innocent.

"Bring forth the child"

Two Word Bearers entered through the door behind Xerrus, dragging with them a child of no more than seven years of age. She stood at around Xerrus' waist, with lank brown hair hanging loosely off of her shoulders. A small canvas bag covered her face. Xerrus unsheathed the barbed dagger held at his waist in anticipation. The two Traitor Marines lifted the child onto the stone slab and bound her arms and legs with iron manacles. As they removed the bag the girl began to scream. 

With near surgical precision the Dark Apostle set about carving the necessary scars into the child's flesh. Blood began to pool atop the stone as he cut an eight-pointed star into her forehead. It bubbled forth and clung to his ceramite gauntlets, it poured into the child's eyes and began to flood her mouth as she continued to scream. A strangled, gargling noise began to emit from her throat as she drowned in her own vital fluid. Xerrus brought forth a cruel looking instrument and inserted it into her mouth where it began to drain the blood. The subject could not die before the ritual was complete. He then set about carving eyes into her forearms and the sacred symbol of his gods into her abdomen. In total the scars added up to nine. Her screams subsided into muffled sobs as shock set in. As he finished mutilating the child's body with heretical emblems he took a step backwards and raised his combat knife. He positioned it above her breast before, in one fluid motion, he plunged it through her furiously beating heart.

"Tzeentch, oh lord and master, Architect of Fate and Creator of Lies, I your mortal servant beseech your assistance. Give me the cunning to defeat the followers of the Corpse-Emperor, give me the might to smite my foes, give me the weapon that will decimate the Imperium. Give me the daemon known as Ba'kolir." 

A tear in reality began to form above the still warm corpse. The insane eddies of the Empyrean twisting inside the rift. The psychic backlash shattered the minds of the acolytes and they began to gibber and scream randomly. Two blazing eyes shone through the portal. The Imperial Guard would soon taste defeat.


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## ArmoredGhost (Aug 18, 2008)

Good stuff, real dark.


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Brother Sammael continued to tamper with his vox caster as he received static-filled messages from the incoming Marauders. Fragments of ETAs filtered through, small pieces of the estimated safe distance and half spoken prayers leaving residual echoes. Sammael looked at Brogun with a look of dismay etched on his face. 

"What should we do sir? We have know idea if we need to fall back, how far we'd need to fall back, when those things are going to hit. We're waiting blindly while several aircraft are coming to dump 18 tons of explosives possibly right on top of us."

"Just keep checking the vox every five minutes, hopefully the atmospherics will clear up and we'll be able to get the specifics. I must go and lead the troops in prayer."

"Yes sir"

As Brogun wandered toward the other end of the ridge the sound of engines could be heard in the distance. The heavy bombers flew steadily closer to their current position, the detailing on the vehicles slowly coming into focus. Aquilas could be seen on the side of the hull, the symbol of the Pridian 54th written in clear white paint along the mainframe. When the first of the planes was within a hundred meters of the ridge C and E companies hid upon a missile streaked forth from the enemy position. With unerring accuracy it caved in the nose of the plane and detonated inside the cockpit, incinerating the pilot's chest cavity and sending jagged pieces of shrapnel deep within his skull. Burning gasoline caught on the copilot's fatigues and started to agonizingly eat at her soft tissues as flames covered her entire body. The other two Marauders soared past it as its engines faltered, and it began to descend.

Sammael cast his gaze on the artillery positions. He saw one of the Chaos Marines frantically trying to reload a missile launcher. The sound of the engines passed over his head and he stared in wonder as large metal orbs fell amidst the enemy in droves. The first to hit were the standard bombs that were carried as the external payload, explosions tore through the traitors, their ancient power armor being shredded like paper. They were followed by the heavy bombs carried in the internal payload which landed around the Basilisk artillery tanks and created an eruption of dirt and debris. When the clouds of earthy residue cleared all that remained of the tanks were ruined husks. Sammael turned to speak to Brogun.

"They did it sir! They… destroyed….."

Sammael faltered as he saw the third Marauder falling directly on his position. He hurriedly gathered his vox caster and began to run away along with the rest of the 5th. His feet propelled him faster than they ever had in his entire life yet they still could not outrun the 94,000 pound behemoth that crashed behind him. Metal screeched as the armor plating on the fallen bomber began to shred off of the framework, sending millions of sparks into the air. The plane began to slow; Sammael began to think he was in the clear. That’s when the munitions were set alight by the friction. The heat radiating from the wreck began to eat away at his skin, which then melted and ran like wax. He cried out in pain as his eyes shriveled and fell out of his eye sockets. His melting flesh dripped off of him like the runoffs of a poorly made candle. The pain finally went away as the heat ate his nervous system. He began to fall. By the time he hit the ground he was nothing more than a charred skeleton.


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Is there any way to change the title of a thread?


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## Myen'Tal (Sep 4, 2009)

You should be able to change the title of your thread by editing the name of your beginning post.

I'm liking it, definately some good work here. Can't really think of much else to say, lol, so yeah, looking forward to more.:biggrin:


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

And how, pray tell, would I do that?


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## Myen'Tal (Sep 4, 2009)

Whoops, scratch that, I was thinking of 40k online , sorry, now we're in the same boat, lol :biggrin:.


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Here's the next part of the story. I learned an important lesson writing this, it's hard to write a good piece about Khorne Berserkers. 

He awoke to a world of flame and suffering. Smoke blocked out the sun, while ash covered the ground. For a moment he thought he was in hell, that the Emperor had deemed him unworthy and sent him to the pits of fire that awaited mutants and heretics. Worlic saw Izarius stagger to his feet. Not hell, then he had somehow survived the crash. He ignored the pain in his legs as he crawled to an outcropping of rocks and lifted himself up. Izarius limped as he walked toward his friend, a deep cut visible through a tear in his pant leg. 

"You don't see that everyday."

Worlic had nothing to say. He was shocked at how optimistic Izarius was. He had just seen half of the people he knew die and he didn't seem phased at all. All Worlic could do was sit there with his mouth open. 

"Stop that, a bug could fly in there"

"We just survived an apocalyptic catastrophe, and you're worried about a fly going down my throat."

"Yeah, it could be really uncomfortable."

Worlic just shook his head. "How many do you think made it?"

'At least half. The blast was relatively small considering the amount of explosives in there."

"What about the Commissar?"

"I hope he was caught in the flames."

As if the Emperor himself wanted to dash Izarius' hopes Brogun's voice could be heard over the vox network.	+ Get over to the burnt out Basilisks, everyone+

"So much for that dream" sighed Izarius. 

"You could always try and fulfill your other dream and become a sergeant."

"Yeah, I'll be sergeant right after I'm the new commissar." 

"I'm telling you, you could be promoted by the end of this campaign. You have the charisma, the optimism, the creativity. Maybe not the intelligence, but…."

"Oh, very funny."

As they walked to the former enemy position they could see others getting themselves off of the ground, yet for every living soldier there was a smoldering corpse. Worlic bent over and 
picked up the tags on the nearest body. A note of melancholy entered his voice as he spoke

"Izarius?"

'What?"

"Could you hold these for now?"

Izarius walked over and grabbed the dog tags from Worlic. The first thing he noticed was 
the writing. Hernan Konrad, 5th Pridian Infantry. Born: 845.M41

* * *

Izarius' estimate was correct, around two thirds of the Pridian 5th was clustered around the artillery's remains. Worlic saw Kith, Rofar, and Flowe and began to search for Konrad before he remembered the tags he had retrieved. It was a horrible loss that no one in the Imperium would remember. He remembered growing up with Konrad in Pridia Ultima, wandering through the streets without a care in the world. He remembered the countless days they had spent in each others company. If he had access to an astropath he would try and send word to Konrad's sister, if she were still alive. The Dark Eldar attacked Pridia constantly, so it would be no surprise if she were dead. All he could pray was that she was killed in the initial assault, for nothing is worse than what they do to their prisoners. That was another part of his childhood he remembered well; when a Dark Eldar raiding party had taken his parents as slaves and tortured them for their own amusement. Konrad's mother had taken him into their home, which only strengthened the bonds they shared. They had been brothers in every way besides blood. 

Izarius caught the look of despair on his friends face and cast him a reassuring glance, to no effect. He could not comprehend the sadness Worlic felt. He had been an only child, orphaned at a very young age and taken in by one of the gangs in Pridia Secundus. He had been raised to accept losses and move on. The closest thing he had to a sibling was a fellow gang member named Frag, who died when Izarius was only thirteen. His adoptive father had been taken away by the Arbites, which had started Izarius' rebellious behavior and caused him to go against authority figures. Then they went after him, tracking him throughout the city for illegally trading opiatix inhalers. He decided to join the Guard to get off-world and away from the vengeful judges. Izarius shook his head to clear his thoughts, now was no time to dwell on the past. 

Brogun ordered for silence, and the soldiers of C and E companies stood to attention. Raising his voice even further so that everyone could hear him he bellowed 

"We have been given the honor of flanking the enemy and assaulting the Palace. Proceed with utmost caution so we do not draw the enemy upon us. The rest of the regiment will follow as soon as is possible, and the other four regiments are advancing now that the artillery has been silenced. We go now to fight in His name, and we shall do Him proud. May the Emperor guide your aim."

* * *

Mitus watched impatiently as the Guardsmen drew nearer. He was anxious to tear through the enemy ranks, yet even his altered legs could not carry them fast enough to cover a kilometer in 2 minutes. Vitios had ceased firing the artillery and now it was his time to do battle. He and his fellow Berserkers had stayed in this position for hours and their bloodlust had nearly gotten the better of them. With a roar they entered the enemy perimeter and set about reaping their harvest. Mitus began to yell encouragements to his battle-brothers, the hidden amplifier in his skull shaped helm increasing the volume of his voice and giving it a harsh undertone.

"Blood for the Blood God"

In reply they shouted "Skulls for the Skull Throne"

His chainaxe whirred as he set about cleaving the pitiful humans in twain. A priest ran at Mitus with an Eviscerator held above his head, cumbersome robes slowing his charge. The word Stone could be clearly seen etched in gold stitching along his breast. Mitus parried a brutal overhand blow and kicked out with his leg. His ceramite-clad foot contacted with the priests midsection, which caused the Ecclesiarchal servant to curl up in pain. Taking advantage of the situation Mitus swung downward, while setting his chainaxe to maximum velocity. The weapon began to whine as it tore through the vertebrae in the priest's neck, the friction heating up the surrounding tissue and filling the air with a rancid stench. The berserker reveled in the sight of the blood that flew through the air, small pieces of flesh and shards of bone following suit with every rotation of the blades. Suddenly the axe tore free as the vertebrae was cut, and the severed head of the priest rolled onto the ground. With a howl of triumph Mitus ran further into the enemy ranks, swinging left and right and ending the lives of scores of Guardsmen.

Lasfire impacted against his armor yet was of no effect, the occasional shot that did penetrate his armor not hindering him in the slightest. Mitus was like an angel of death, having perfected murder to an art form with millennia of practice. Each death was a masterpiece, a beautiful thing that he took enjoyment from. Each soul sent screaming to Khorne was like a personal gift, which would be responded to in kind. Surely there was no greater joy or purpose in 
life than to take the lives of others.


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

No comments?


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## Deneris (Jul 23, 2008)

BloodAngelsfan said:


> No comments?


More? ....


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Finally motivated myself to resume writing! I thought I might bring back some IG humor, with less of the dying and grimdark for at least one chapter.

Dusk was setting over the rubble-filled streets as C and E companies silently crept through the area toward their objective, the camouflage patterns on their flak armour and assorted equipment making them nearly invisible to the human eye. However tensions ran high, as everyone knew that the eyes of a Marine were far greater than those of a normal man. They proceeded with the utmost caution, taking care to make as little noise as possible and trying to prevent any reflection from their lasguns. Worlic viewed it all through his scope as he covered the northern advance to flank the Palace, the optic enhancements present inside giving everything a red tinge. Displays appeared, targeting mechanisms settled over potential targets as though the machine spirit itself was trying to help him. According to those damn cogboys it was. Worlic spit as he thought of the techpriests, always meddling with his precious rifle and going on about 'easing the spirits pain'. He currently was leading a small band of marksmen, hiding on the upper floor of a ruined bell tower where they could cover the entire group. Although he was supposed to concern himself with providing aid to the entire regiment his aim constantly shifted toward his own squad.

Commisar Brogun was leading the group through a ruined hab-block, taking the customary position of Izarius who followed closely behind. Somehow Izarius had managed to acquire a flamer and the large tanks were visibly throwing him off balance. Crill was notably placed in the middle, where he was least likely to be attacked… or impair the squad. Worlic wondered to himself whether Izarius was a clever tactician or a cruel bastard. He leaned more toward the cruel bastard side of the argument, thinking back to the innumerable jokes and pranks at his expense. He pointedly remembered an incident with corn starch, water, the Commisar's coat and large quantities of liquor. Behind Crill was Flowe, walking with the deadly grace of an experienced fighter. Following him were Kith and Rofar, which was where he could not differentiate even when within the same room, let alone from his current position. It took a severe test of will not to think of who was missing from the procession; it would do him no avail to show weakness in front of the junior snipers.

Izarius' voice sounded over the static in his earpiece +Hey you dumb gak, we clear? +

+Yeah, you stupid grox-loving… yeah. That's what's disturbing me though…+

+Why's that? +

+We've advanced several kilometers into enemy-held territory through a dense urban environment, and not had any contact. +

+Maybe the Emperor's actually listened to me for once? +

+Sure, and I'm going to become the next Ecclesiarch. +

+As you say your holiness. +

+It's times like this I hate you. I'm just saying I have a bad feeling about this. +

+You know what? I'll worry about being dismembered in an ambush and you can focus on covering me, okay? +

+Try not to trip you idiot. +

Surprisingly Crill's voice came forth +Lover's quarrels? +

Izarius, further cementing his role as a cruel bastard, said +Oh my Emperor it speaks! Even more surprising it sounds like a man! I'm glad I didn't follow my normal procedures to chase after a woman. +

Worlic chuckled to himself as Crill stumbled trying to cross a pile of fallen detritus in his path. Just as he began signaling the snipers to advance to the next vantage point a round could be seen tearing through the air above Commissar Brogun's head and impacting on the wall behind him. With a precision and haste acquired through years of experience, or in the case of Crill a few hours in the Commissar's company, they took cover behind a shattered fragment that had been the façade of a mansion. Several more rounds landed astray of their targets in quick succession, all originating from a small domicile some hundred meters from their current position in the general direction of the Palace. 

+Focus your fire on the third housing block from the right of the street parallel to the one squad C5 is following.
Pick your targets. Wait for it…+ He noticed a flash of movement + Second storey, back window. +

Five shots fired at the spot he indicated, each of the gun barrels never moving until they were confident the target was down. After five minutes of no firing they deemed it safe. 

+You're clear Izarius. Proceed with caution. +

+There was that contact you were asking for, happy now? + 

+Shut up and get back to marching, we'll be heading to the next vantage point then we'll rendezvous with you and the Commissar before we enter the square in front of the Palace. +

+ If it keeps my ass from getting shot do whatever you want. +

* * * 

C&C encouraged.


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## qotsa4life (Dec 31, 2009)

This story is awesome man. I can't wait to hear the rest!


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## Blackheart_101 (Dec 14, 2009)

Apsolutley great, read all of it, and am loving it. Keep up the great work.+rep


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Thanks for the support. I promise I'll have more up by next Friday at the latest. Busy starting a novel manuscript for a contest, so haven't had much time for this.


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## Yog-Sothoth (Jan 8, 2010)

Brilliant story, if only I could write like that 

Looking forward to more!


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## two lls (Nov 25, 2009)

Great writing Bloodangelsfan, keep it up? when you posting more!?


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## forkmaster (Jan 2, 2010)

Ive read through part 1-3 roughly, I must say I truly envy your way to describe the characters in a dark humour. Good work.


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Thanks for the comments guys, sorry I haven't been updating. Just had a lot of school work, and I have to keep working on my novel manuscript for English. I suppose I probably should have picked a short story but I'm committed. I would post it here but I prefer to keep things here Warhammer related. 

If you want I can PM you the first five (single spaced) or so pages that make up the first chapter/ exposition. It would be longer but I have to try and keep it within 50 DOUBLE-SPACED pages!!!!! And it has to have five chapters! I might post after i bring the first third or so it to it's intended length of 50 normal pages (8.5x11 single-spaced size 12 font) but for now that's a no.


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## BloodAngelsfan (Jan 22, 2009)

Ok guys, after posting that last bit I was motivated to resume work so at long last here is the next part of the story!!! This is the first part of the story from Izarius' point of view, as I figured it would be interesting to get inside the head of everyone's favorite insubordinate. 


Under the watchful eyes of his friend, and to the annoyance of the Commissar, Izarius daringly lead his brothers-in-arms through the deadly urban jungle of Cyran Hive… or so he wanted the others to believe. He was just really trying to get to a safe place where he might avoid any more enemy fire. No matter who you are it only takes one lucky shot to bring you down, so why take chances? If there was one thing he retained from his time on Pridia it was 'let the other guy take the shots', never do anything someone else couldn't do better, or when you had to do it have a diversion. It said something of his friendship with Worlic that he hadn't been used as a virtual human shield yet. Silently he berated himself for the yet at the end of that thought, but he knew he would do what he had to to survive.

Unwittingly he guided them to the position where their assailant had been. Izarius gazed at the hab-unit. It was no different then any other, made of dull plascrete with an imperial Aquila carved in a relief above the door, the setting sun, now near the end of its descent, casting the symbol of mankind into sharp contrast. As the shadows played across their image, the eyes seemingly peered into his soul, seeing the cowardice and misdeeds he hid. He faltered under that stony gaze, as though the Emperor himself were watching him, and lowered his eyes. 

"I'm no coward," he stated, more to convince himself than his god on distant Terra, "and I am surely no heretic. No man is beyond redemption. My acts on Pridia live and die with me."

The Commissar glared at him, and Izarius wondered if he had heard. More likely he was just again expressing how much he hated Izarius. Izarius smiled at him and gave a friendly wave, much to the anger of Brogun. He'd always hated Izarius, even when he was first recruited, but he never called Izarius out on his actions. He'd stolen Brogun's coat and done some… interesting things to it, given it to Worlic and sprayed him with amasec, then slipped an anonymous note to the Commissar that an intoxicated soldier had been rummaging through his possessions. Of course as soon as Brogun saw Worlic was the' intoxicated solider' he knew Izarius was behind it, since he knew Worlic had never once broken protocol or had a drink while on duty. Even with that large of an infraction he hadn't had a greater punishment than to wash the Chimera APC's. Although it was slightly offsetting, since Worlic and the rest of the regiment had been allowed nearly a whole day of free time besides morning, midmorning, noon, afternoon, and evening prayer. 

He thought back to when he first met Brogun and the rest of them, for some reason. He was nearing 50 years of age, thirty away from retirement if he was lucky. He had enough credits from gambling after campaigns to buy some life-prolonging treatments. Some officers were nearing their second centuries or more, so he had a shot. In terms of men who had a life expectancy of 20 hours after beginning a campaign he was ancient, probably getting nostalgic. 
With an internal laugh he thought he'd get senile by the time he was as old as the commissar. He ruefully shook his head, clearing the doubt that had clouded his thoughts, and entered the building. 

The interior, as mind-numbingly dull and dismal as the exterior, was coated in blood; not all of it dried. Particles of bone, small pieces of brain matter, neural matter and Emperor knows what else was splattered against on wall, opposite a small oaken table stained red by sacrifice. Izarius hadn't even noticed the rest of the squad advance until he heard Crill start gagging. He smirked, realizing the cause of Crill's disgust, thinking of the first time he'd seen one of those things.

Izarius just started laughing "Sure is an ugly little grox-lover ain't he?"

Crill just responded by proceeding to nearly give back his mornings rations. The Marine, what was left of him, lay upon the ground. His hands seemed to be covered in blue-tinged scales, and above those lay a thin translucent membrane that appeared to cover at least his entire arms. The remaining portion of his head seemed to have liquefied before being shot by repeated lasbolts. No recognizable features could be seen on his face, just something that looked like a used candle. His legs, all four of them, seemed to be large claws, covered in a glistening chitin that was carved with symbols that hurt the eye to look at. The pats of armor blown away from his torso revealed not bare skin, but rather bare muscle. Izarius imagined that either he went around skinless or the armor was bonded to him. Either way, it all added together to make something he could best describe as the ugliest damn thing in the whole damn sector.

Izarius quickly activated his vox +Hello brain-dead eagle this is high and mighty, come in brain-dead eagle+

Worlic incredulously responded +Since when the hell was my codename 'brain-dead eagle'? For that matter, since when did we have codenames!?+

+Since I decided that would be an interesting way to insult your intelligence. We are in position, over+ Crill's gagging could be heard in the background.

+What's the matter with Crill?+ 

+He just got his first glimpse of the enemy.+

+Poor son of a grox…+ 

* * *


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