# Bound by BLood



## Mindlessness (Dec 22, 2009)

Okay, this has been submitted before, but due to schooling and lack of interest (also loosing the thread) I have returned with an update for this story.

Mind you, this is a rough draft and needs some extensive work, I will be trying to make updates as often as possible.

So please, enjoy my fellows :biggrin:

Chapter 1
Lost

He was fucking lost. An assassin, lost. Just his luck. The rocky desert outcrops stretched from corner to corner, there was not a clearing in sight. It all looked the same to Aren, red jagged rocks with the occasional shrub scattered at random throughout the area. The sky was a dark and foreboding shade of red, mid afternoon by Aren's estimate. Lightning crackled in the distance, the result of chaos corruption.

The planet Galvor lies on the eastern fringes and had once been the site of an earlier chaos uprising. The planets local populace, farmers and crop growers, had become fascinated with the signs and prayers of the blood god, and after succumbing to his demands went on a rampage. Killing each other in an orgy of violence and bloodshed. The planet has tried to be colonised twice beforehand, both attempts have been met with failure. 

He sighed and spoke into the vox, adjusting his seating as he did so, brushing some red dust from his rifle.
“This is Omega 4, target has not been spotted. Can you confirm his location command,” Aren asked, his voice rough and hard.
“Roger, the target is 4 clicks north-west of your current position. Alpha 3 is standing by in cyro status awaiting your order,”. Came the servitors reply.
“Confirmed command, out,”

Aren got to his feet and started moving towards the northern horizon. These bastards had one hell of a surprise waiting for them.

After what seemed like hours, Aren finally came into a clearing. A large mountain was his vantage point as he surveyed the open plain of dirt. The cultists had already beaten him to the site. A large, poorly constructed monument had been made out of rusted metal and wood. The shape was made from three circles or brown, almost orange metal. Combined with three rusted metal prongs sticking out of the gaps the circles made, a very rough version of the chaos god Nurgle's symbol.

He took a prone position on the ground, his camolene cloak covering his armour, blending in to the natural vegitation and enviroment, making him almost invisible. He rested the barrel of his A2 sniper rifle on the foilage and in between two massive bolders. His non-firing hand on the barrel, this assured a steady aim. He pulled back the sleave on his arm and checked his wrist mounted auspex, wind speed was the norm, higher planet gravity and lower humidity, this meaned the air was less dense, meaning higher impact and a further straighter shot.

His custom built Exitus Class sniper was one of a kind, he constructed it himself. Its gas operated system had been replaced by an antiquated bolt action system. Less moving parts provided better accuracy, at the cost of firing speed. In Arens position, this provided a better alternitive.

He sighted one figure walking amongst the rest, covered in a sickly green coloured power armour, at least two feet taller then the mass of chanting cultists he was surrounded by. He struck one unlucky person as he made his way to the middle of the corrupt symbol. Aren adjusted his scope to the distance of the trarget and gravity, a higher gravity would require his to shoot higher. Aren braced, exhaled, and fired.


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## Mindlessness (Dec 22, 2009)

The second installment, please feel free to post critisim I'm sure I can take it 

Chapter 2

The ritual was almost complete. Bial, the most trusted servant of Nurgle could feel himself becoming one with his festering god. He grinned maniacally as he was lifted into the air, the raw power of chaos surging through his body. Pink and purple light ebbed and flowed around him, morphing him into the ultimate gift, demon hood. He marvelled as his armour merged with his green disease riddled skin, his arms grew too many times their own size, as his body expanded rapidly.

And then nothing.

The hand-crafted hellfire round, from an Exitus class 409-A2 sniper rifle, exited Bial's skull in a spray of brain matter, showering the surprised cultists. As well trained and disciplined as he was, Aren let a faint smile touch his lips. He still relished the picture made from a prefect shot. 

From his vantage point, 5 kilometers away, Aren made one small, silent movement. He tapped his vox and whispered, “Go”.

Aren slid back the bolt lever, a used .75 calibre shell sailing out as he did so. A fresh round sliding from the magazine and into the barrel as the lever was slid back into place. He smirked as he scoped out the cultists, panicking and ducking for cover, not knowing where the shot had come from. He sighted one such individual poking his head out from behind a table. He braced and fired. The bolt hit the targets head just below the ear, the explosion leaving a mess of grey and bone fragments. The corpse went limp as its headless form flew back from the sheer recoil, the limp body suddering as the table collapsed on it


As if on cue, fire lit up the sky. A pitch black pod descending leaving a trail of smoke and fire in its wake. The pod crashed with earth shaking force into the middle of the cultists' ritual. The airlock door flew off as the pod's inside decompressed. 

A large howl was heard before a dark figure raced out at near in-human speeds. He lunged at the first cultist, his Neuro Gauntlet ripping out his insides, disembowelling him in one swift slash. The next cultist dived at him and managed to parry the first blow from his Gauntlet, only to receive a bolt to the face from his Executioner Pistol. A third cultist ran at him. He caught the cultist by the throat, lifting him up into mid air, laughing maniacally as he crushed his head between his hands.

And as quickly as it began, the revolt was finished. Borgan, the Eversor Assassin, barely remained in control. His immune system had been boosted, past the level of other Eversor assassins, to fight the ridiculous amount of chemical compounds he injected himself with. The trial antibodies he had been injected with, helped him fight the permanent blood rage, and drug induced psychosis. The downside is they only had a partial effect, rendering him an unstable, but professional killer.

Aren arrived by his brother's side. They we're twins; they shared the same blood, a bond that could not be broken, and it pained Aren to see his brother in this light. As much as he knew it was wrong question the works of the Officio Assassinorum , he did so anyway. The drugs injected inside these men, made them, faster, stronger and more powerful than any human could dream of being, but at the price of loosing one's sanity and becoming a blood hungry psychopath. Good people had been lost this way; Aren didn't want his brother to fall down that same path. 

“How are the trial antibodies going?” Aren asked, trying to hide the sad undertone in his voice.
“I..m...alive,” Borgan managed in a pained tone.

Aren pushed the emergency beacon, and observed as a small shuttle craft stealthily rushed through the atmosphere and landed besides them.

“Lets get off this rock,” Borgan managed before embarking the shuttle.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Good stuff bud. My only critique would be grammar and that's only minor. Some sentences would be better broken up instead of spread across a few commas along with tenses in some cases. Other than that, it's well written, engaging, and I like it. I hope to see more in the near future!

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate


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## Mindlessness (Dec 22, 2009)

Been working on this one for a while, I got a bit lost halfway through, but managed to pull something out of my ass 

Chapter 3
Aren doubled over the sink is his quarters, pain wracking his entire body. He vomited a large chunk of what appeared to be bile into the small metal sink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared into the mirror. His pale face looked almost ghostlike, the only reason he didn't fade into the background was his large blue eyes. They we're a confronting blue, as pale as the sky. His regular look was one of kindness and compassion, but his stare, that, cold, hard stare, felt like he was looking into your very soul.

He sighed, he hated warp travel. The feeling of being in space, artificial gravity taking a hold of him. Not being able to hear the natural white noise of the environment. This was hell for Aren. He stumbled out of his room, walking awkwardly along the steel confines of this mobile hell he called, HalcyonStorm. The space hulk was a Executioner class cruiser. Sacrificing weaponry and shielding for improved speed and manoeuvrability, they could outclass and outmanoeuvre any opposing craft.

The sound, or lack of sound is what he hated the most. His boots, echoing down the long empty halls. His breath coming in ragged gasps. He shuddered, man wasn't meant to live in space. He continued to wander aimlessly through the halls of this hulk. He gently ran his fingers over the cold metal, feeling the ships machine spirit rumbling at his touch. He smiled, the workings of the machine where one his mind didn't fully grasp, he was amazed by the workings of the machine, and how a man made object could have its own spirit. 

His aimless wandering had taken him into the mess hall. The room was mostly empty, aside from the tables and chairs coupled by small pockets of black figures chatting amongst themselves. He walked over to where he could see his brother seated, cleaning his executioner pistol. He took a seat besides his brother, Borgan didn't look up as he did so. 

“You look just peachy,” Borgan mocked, not looking up from his pistol.
“I feel just peachy.” Aren spat in retort.
“Don't blame me on your body's incompetence to handle warp travel” Borgan laughed.

Aren sighed and rested his face on the table, his features turning to mush in his arms. Borgan chuckled to himself again, cocking his pistol and setting it on the table.

“Have you heard about our next assignment?” Borgan announced.
“Not yet” Aren groaned
“Well I won’t ruin the suprise for you” with that, Borgan smiled to himself and walked off to his room.

Aren sat in confusion, and on cue the vox of the ship lit up. A monotone servitor voice barked from the device.

“Unit zero dash 133, report to the briefing room immediately. 

Aren stumbled his way through the narrow confines of the hulk until he reached his destination, the briefing room. As we made his way inside he noticed his brother, already suited up in his full kit. He took a seat next to him and watched the holo-screen in front of him. A cold metallic voice echoed from all around the room as the 3D screen lit up in front of them.

“The Cadian high command has issued a kill team. The Caidan gate is about to besieged by Abbadon’s 13th Black Crusade. We require you four to eradicate his generals and halt his crusade.”

“Us four?” Aren asked, a little startled.

“ As this mission has a 0.7% chance of survival, we are required to use more of our assets to achieve 100% mission success. You two will be accompanied by two Death Cult assassins, they will provide the necessary aid to complete your task.” The projected image faded and two female figures stepped out from the darkness. 

The first was in a red and black body tight suit, armed with an array of swords, daggers and knifes, but the most striking aspect was a giant scythe strapped to her back. Her long raven hair framed her face and made her perfect crimson lips stand out. But something was amiss with her, the very space around her seemed as cold as death. The pupils of her eyes were red, and where the white should have been, was a blackish blue. She walked with such malice and spite, almost as if nothing would get between her and her goal, whatever it may be.

The second was clad in a white body suit with streaks of grey, a blue blindfold covering her eyes. She was armed with a single katana on her back, along with the gear of every Death Cult assassin, many daggers and knifes strapped to her legs. She was different from her partner, she seemed to be at peace with her work. As she moved closer to the pair of assassins it seemed like she was walking on the air itself, this disturbed Aren as he had mistrust of psykers. 

“I am Ignacia and this is Dabria, we do not like strangers.” The red clad figure spat.
“We don’t like this more than you do, but we are going to have to deal with it.” Aren said.
“We shall.” Ignacia said and left the room.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Mindlessness said:


> Been working on this one for a while, I got a bit lost halfway through, but managed to pull something out of my ass


Sometimes when you've run out of straws to grasp, ran into the brick wall of writer's block and finally discovered that many late nights with only caffiene as fuel to keep you going, pulling something out of your ass turns out to be the best option :biggrin:

Another good bit bud! Keep it up!

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate


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## CaliBeR (Aug 30, 2010)

enjoyed reading this, keep it up! 
and keep working on it.


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## Mindlessness (Dec 22, 2009)

#4 man I'm knocking these out faster than usual. Had a lot of trouble on this part, writers block kicked me in the teeth, no more for me today 

Chapter 4

“This is bullshit Borgan, absolute bullshit, we NEVER have company. Remember two years ago hive fleet Tycondarogus, 12 to one and we survived. We killed millions, only the two of us, that was deemed suicide and it was only us two, why the fuck do we need more.” Aren yelled.

“Calm down, there is nothing wrong with company, besides the clash of styles we may be able to pull this off and survive.” Borgan tried to calm Aren.

“I don’t feel right around that Ignacia chick, something is amiss with her, and that other one doesn’t speak, it’s unsettling. “Aren said as he slid a fresh mag into his exodus pistol and cocked it.

“Let’s just do this, we are going up against a black crusade and three of the most powerful chaos lords in the galaxy, we WILL need all the help we can get.” Borgan donned his helmet and walked out of the armoury.

Aren quickly followed behind him disgust formed in his features.

******************************************************************

“We do not work strangers, they will talk about us when we are not looking, they will betray us” Ignacia spat, malice in her voice.

“No, don’t speak to me in that tone, people are not good we cannot trust anyone” Ignacia said again, practically speaking to herself.

“Okay okay! We have to work with them, but it doesn’t mean we won’t like it” She spat again.

Dabria nodded, as if understanding the conversation. She gracefully exited the room and made her way to the staging area.

“We may be forced into this, but we don’t have to like it” Ignacia whispered under her voice as she exited the room as well. 


******************************************************************


Aren and Borgan were in the staging area of the hulk, where the many shuttles and pods were aliened, ready to deliver there deadly payload on a minutes’ notice. Borgan was playing with his dagger, stabbing into the spaces where the palms of his hands were, chuckling to himself as he was moving faster than his eye could see. 

Aren sat with his back aganist the shuttle, building and rebuilding his rifle, loading his mags and checking his kit. He finished building his rifle a fourth time and sighed. As he did Ignacia appeared out of thin air in front of him. She chuckled and motioned towards the shuttles rear hatch. Without a word she silently walked towards the hatch.

Borgan and Aren followed her towards the hatch, Dabria was waiting in the back, already loading her gear, she smiled at them and took her seat in the shuttle. The rest of the team packed their gear and took their seats. Aren with his fear of space travel extending to the point of atmospheric re-entry, tightened his harness to the point of suffocation.


Borgan however, loved the adrenaline rush of basically anything that gave you one, so he loosened his harness ginning like a madman. He slid his knife out of its sheath and started to pick his teeth.

As they waited for the drop, they gave each other a final nod.

And then they fell.

Weightlessness was felt as they plummeted to the earth, the shuttle shaking violently. Borgan screaming with joy, and Aren’s stomach deciding to let go of its contents in mid drop. Ignacia’s face was as cold as ice, not a single touch of emotion was present, and Dabria’s eyes were squeezed shut, she was obviously not enjoying herself.

As the shuttle continued to plummet towards Cadia a raspy voice came over the vox.
“One minute till touchdown, we’re expecting hostile fire on the way down, brace yourselves.”

And with that the shuttle rocked even harder, explosions were heard outside over the sound of the roaring thrusters. A large explosion was heard and the emergency lights lit up accompanied by the sound of an alarm.

Aren was thrown around in his seat, as the shuttle spun like crazy, lights flashing and the deafening alarm ringing. The shuttle slammed into the ground with amazing force, knocking Aren out cold and making Borgan see stars. The roar from outside was deafening, the sound of the shuttle scraping and bouncing on the outside terrain.

And then nothing.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

How do you write your stories? Do you sit down and just go from what you've written or do you plot them out? 

Dealing with writer's block is never fun. I always take a step back and go do something else if I find myself unable to continue on what I'm currently working on. It's good to rest the brain!

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate


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## Mindlessness (Dec 22, 2009)

I have a basic plotline that I want to story to follow currently but I usually just sit down and go from what I've wirtten. 

At the moment I'm not sure if I should continue, I mean it seems to me that this story is just sporaticly jumping all over the shop, and I'm not a massive fan of my own work


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

I agree with Shogun_Nate and the others. All in all a good read, with some grammatical issues but nothing incredibly glaring or off putting.

As far as writing it goes, I'd recommend putting together a solid outline to try and minimize how much you see it as jumping around. That way, you've got the whole plot line figured out, and can tie in anything you want and make it fit in the best way possible.

If you don't like something you've written, take a couple of days as a mental breather, and relook at it. I try to do that, and occasionally I do a complete re-write or decide that it's not so bad after all and only make a few corrections/editions here and there.

Regardless, I hope to see more and keep writing!


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## Mindlessness (Dec 22, 2009)

I could have done a better job on the last part of #4

12:30 in the morning with no caffine didn't help the process at all, might try giving it a quick re-write today or tomorrow.


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## Mindlessness (Dec 22, 2009)

JUst sommething short and sweet, next chapter will be a tad long.

Kaar, the greater champion of Khorne slashed wildly to his left and right, his daemon weapon growling in happiness as he lopped the head off a pathetic guardsmen. He laughed as he disembowelled another man as he ran at him. Abaddon had united three of the four blessed champions of the gods and had launched his attack on the Cadian gate, if they could secure a foothold here, Terra would be exposed.

His red armour lit up as lasfire bounced and pinged off it. His loyal berserkers charged the barricade of the guardsmen as they fled, cowardly dogs Kaar thought as their dying screams filled his ears.

“Tonight, this city burns” He shouted as he advanced with his warriors.


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