# Heresy Online Expeditious Stories 2: Thirst



## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Here's how it works:

Each month, there will be a thread posted in the Original Works forum for that month's HOES competition. For those of you interested in entering, read the entry requirements, write a story that fits the chosen theme and post it as a reply to the competition thread by the deadline given.

Once the deadline has passed, a separate voting thread will be posted, where the readers and writers can post their votes for the top three stories. Points will be awarded (3 points for 1st, 2 for 2nd, and 1 for 3rd) for each vote cast, totaled at the closure of the voting window, and a winner will be announced. The winner will have his/her story added to the Winning HOES thread that will be posted with the completion of the first month's competition and, hopefully, stickied by the moderators

*Theme
*
The idea with the theme is that it should serve as the inspiration for your stories rather than a constraint. While creative thinking is most certainly encouraged, the theme should still be relevant to your finished story. The chosen theme can be applied within the WH40K, WHF, HH, and even your own completely original works (though keep in mind, this IS a Warhammer forum) but there will be no bias as to which setting is used for your story.

As far as the theme goes, please feel free with future competitions to contact me with your ideas/proposals, especially given that my creative juices may flow a bit differently than yours. All I ask is that you PM me your ideas rather than posting them into the official competition entry/voting threads to keep posts there relevant to the current competition.

*Word Count*

The official word count for each competition will be 1,000 words. There will be a 10% allowance in this limit, essentially giving you a 900-1,100 word range with which to tell your tale. This is non-negotiable. This is an Expeditious Story competition, not an Epic Story nor an Infinitesimal Story competition. If you are going to go over or under the 900-1,100 word limit, you need to rework your story. It is not fair to the other entrants if one does not abide by the rules. If you cannot, feel free to PM me with what you have and I'll give suggestions or ideas as to how to broaden or shorten your story.

Each entry must have a word count posted with it. Expect a reasonably cordial PM from me (and likely some responses in the competition thread) if you either fail to adhere to this rule. The word count can be annotated either at the beginning or ending of your story, and does not need to include your title.

Without further ado...

The theme for this month's competition is:

Thirst

Entries should be posted in this thread, along with any comments that the readers may want to give (and comments on stories are certainly encouraged in both the competition and voting threads!) 40K, 30K, WHF, and original universes are all permitted (please note, this excludes topics such as Halo, Star Wars, Forgotten Realms, or any other non-original and non-Warhammer settings).

The deadline for entries is Midnight US Eastern Standard Time (-5.00 hours for you UK folks)*Sunday, 27 February 2011*. Voting will be held from *27 Feb - 5 March.*

If you have any questions, feel free to either PM me or ask in this thread.

Without further nonsense from me, let the writing begin!


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## PapaSmurf124 (Mar 28, 2010)

Sounds like fun. If I get a chance to get a story written up, I will be sure to include it


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## Doelago (Nov 29, 2009)

Sounds like fun... But no Star Wars?  Damn...


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## jaggedjaw (Oct 2, 2010)

wait how do you write thirst as a theme?


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## Bane_of_Kings (Oct 28, 2009)

I guess I'll put forward the first entry then, like last time. I decided to write a vampire story after recently reading the Ulrika the Vampire novel, and numerous Vampire works on this forum, which mostly I enjoyed. Also, this is my first WHF piece ever, so you have been warned. Now, without further ado, here we go:

~ Night of the Hunter ~
_A Warhammer Fantasy Short Story_
1004 words​
_ Middenheim, the Year 2502_ 

_‘It is a dark night’,_ thought Asmeth, as the vampire made his way across the buildings of the city of the white wolf, or so the humans called it. He didn’t really care what they called it however, as long as he got what he wanted. As he leapt from one building to the next, he could feel himself closing in on his prey.

The Vampire advanced, taking great care whenever he saw watchmen in the streets below, or atop the buildings, for to alert one now would to condemn his mission to failure, and not just mean his downfall, but also increased tension in Middenheim, which could potentially mean that his fellow vampires, or at least those still in the city of the white wolf, would be discovered.

And that, Asmeth really didn’t want to happen. The dark figure was still unnoticed by the humans below, but as the undead man made his way closer to his prey, the amount of guards increased, forcing him to move slower, even though he was leaping across the rooftops of the city.

Because, if one of them decided to look up, that would mean he would be discovered, and would have to act very quickly before more guards appeared. Suddenly, Asmeth stopped, teetering on the edge of a building.

‘Well, that complicates things’; the Vampire grimaced, stepping back cautiously to avoid being sighted. Crouching down, Asmeth took a closer look at what he had encountered, and what was too stalking through the shadows below him. Beneath his dark, black cloak, the being that had once been human could easily pick out the figure amongst the few normal men and women still out at this late time, he noticed a pale, blonde haired figure hiding behind a cluster of small barrels, his eyes fixed on a small band of night-watchmen, armed with swords and torches. They were wearing the blue colour of their troops, and were laughing loudly. However, they didn’t worry Asmeth.

The other vampire worried him more, a one newly inducted into the bloodline, carless, violent and eager for blood. Asmeth didn’t know why Qu’meck, the elderly vampire who had taught both the young one and him the ways of the undead, had let this inexperienced hunter of his leash in the middle of a city full of humans. “So, Leros,” Asmeth whispered under his breath. “You wish to hunt the hunter.”

“That he does, Asmeth,” said a cold, elderly voice behind him. Asmeth spun around, and found himself face-to-face with a third creature of the night, his mentor Qu’meck stood there with a grim smile on his face. “And, you are also seeking this notorious Witch Hunter, are you not?”

“How did you know, my friend?” Asmeth whispered, as they retreated from the edge of the rooftops as the patrol passed by Leros, not taking any notice of him.

“Well, you have always had a fascination for high buildings, have you not?” Qu’meck responded. “Come now, Asmeth, let us see how good Leros really is.”

-/

Down in the still-crowded streets of Middenheim, Leros Von Schierber watched the blue coated soldiers advance through the streets, bitterly wishing to lunge out here and now, and bring them all down in one swift stroke. 

However, he resisted the urge, as the young Vampire knew that he could not take out the patrol all at once. A quick glance above him informed Leros that he was being tailed, and he already knew whom. It seemed Asmeth, and his master had taken to following him, but doubted they would come to his aid.

They were here to observe him, and to watch him. This was part of his training. 

When the patrol had passed, Leros sprinted down the road, still being tailed by Qu’meck and Asmeth from the rooftops, keeping an eye on his every move as he prowled through small packs of people, one after the other. 

And then, the creature of the night saw his prey, standing there, out in the open. The Witch Hunter, who had butchered several of his brethren in Nuln, including his brother, accusing him of being a vampire when it was actually Leros that had forsaken his humanity. Wincing at the memory, Leros brushed it aside, even as the screams of his twin echoed in his ears, praying for Sigmar’s mercy. 

However, Sigmar’s mercy never came, and Leros’ brother had died. A bitter hatred grew in Leros that day, and ever since, he had been tracking his quarry. And now, the vampire smiled, licking his lips with growing anticipation.

All it took would be one blow, just one, and Damion Von Schierber’s death would be avenged. However, suddenly, there was a hand placed on the back of Leros’ shoulder.

“Not yet, young one,” Qu’meck’s voice was quiet, yet Leros could hear it plainly. Careful not to make any rash moves, Leros took a moment before he replied.

“How long have you been watching me, master?”

“Since the last patrol,” smiled Qu’meck. “You learn well. Now, as a reward, I will let you have your prey. You shouldn’t have left without consulting me, however. All it takes is just one slip up, just one.”

“I am truly sorry, master,” responded Leros, and then, “Why is Asmeth here?”

“To give you a challenge, Leros,” Qu’meck grinned. “And I suggest you hurry up, Asmeth is already taking his position.”

With a quick glance up to the small building next to the Witch Hunter’s place of residence, Leros swore as he noticed his rival rip out a windowpane, and hurl himself through. “You distracted me, Master,” he smiled, and took off, heading towards the Witch Hunter, who had got up from his resting place and was opening the door on his house. 

Qu’meck sat back, and observed both of his trained vampires, dash into the house of the hunter. He smiled, and knowing that time would reveal the outcome, he turned and departed the scene, the smile not leaving his face. 

++++

Hope you enjoyed, Bane of Kings Out.


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

Pleasure Palace

Gothik


A town called Edens Doorway. 

Apt name for an apt region. The Town was set against a breath taking beauty of untouched hills and skies as blue as the ocean that hadn't been raped by the mechanicum and Imperiums ever hungry need for resources,

“Shore leave boys and girls, Make the most of it, we are here until we are moved on elsewhere”

Commander Derax had a good smile and she cared about her unit, She didn't much care about anything else and I would sometimes wonder how she had come to be so syncial. It only took me three years to realise that the only glory that awaited me was a mud pit somewhere on some world that no one really cared about. 

Or, Like Renae, buried in a burnt out husk of a tank or rhino somewhere.

Derax might have been pretty once, in fact I am sure of it but whilst her face showed a youthfulness about her that had some of the men giving her sly glances; her eyes told a different tale.

One that I would come to know very soon.

Heavens gate was her world of choice for shore leave and, every couple of years she would come here with her unit for some much needed R and R.

I must admit I could see the attraction. There was not one sight of a war machine guarding some Imperial installation. The sounds of the dead or the dying did not invade the air, in fact the only sound that invaded the air was the sweetest sound of bird song.

As I moved round the town, breathing in clean untainted air I noticed that there was nothing remotely Imperial about this world and there were no statues to the God-Emperor anywhere.

When I asked Havlin, Derax's trusted second why this was so, he just said that this was a world of pleasure and such things should not be seen by the Emperor, in case it corrupted his purity.

I shrugged a little but I didn't believe it all I mean, if the Emperor watched over us all ever day then he is gonna see the real true sights that human nature had to offer. So seeing two humans rutting was not going to bother him in the slightest when he had probably just seen a woman gang raped by renegades or a man blown to pieces cause he trod on something that looked like grok crap only to discover it wasn't.

“Just enjoy yourself Corporal, that's what the Commander wants. We are here for a while.”

He motioned to a building at the end of the street and with a smile on his face walked off in the other direction,

I liked Havlin, you knew where you stood with him and I discovered he came from my fathers home community back on Renate. 

I lit a I-Ho stick and stood looking at the buildings around me.

There were bars, restaurants and I am certain that the house at the end of the street was a whore house.

I was going to discover that it was much much more then that.

The house was nothing remarkable on the outside, just like a large town house except white washed to beat off the midday sun's heat but inside, one inside it all changed.

The colours were so garish and random that it hurt my eyes to look at them for long but the smell of hashish and other substances was strong and made my head swim. As I took in more of the surroundings I noticed her for the first time and she was coming towards me,

She was Voluptuous and no words could truly describe how my heart beat in time with her sway. Her hair was a riot of colours and her purple eyes were flexed gold. As she took my hand she led me past a room that had bodies entwined with bodies.

Men and women having noisy and very energetic sex whilst involved in other games with other couples and centre of the pile was my commander and her face was pure ecstasy. 

I hardly noticed that her uniform was now devoid of any and all imperial insignia.

I was led up a old wooden winding staircase and into a room that had satin and silk bedsheets with big silk pillows. The woman whose name was Deandre gave me a bong to smoke and told me to take a long and deep inhale.

Each inhale was longer then the first and after each inhale she would perform acts on me that no woman had ever performed on me.

By the time I had taken the thirteenth toke I saw a face so beautiful appear in the room with us I wanted him or was it a she? I was not too sure.

I raised my head for a better look but Deandre lay my head gently down and told me the master wanted to observe and give his blessing.

What could I say, as I started making love to her this walking angel was whispering in my ear, showing me how to pleasure her better and their hand upon my skin drove me beyound anything I had ever known.

Deandres nails racked down my back only serving to drive me to acts even more amazing then the last and with each bout the god – for only a god could look that beautiful – would tell me that this is what his warriors were about.

That the corpse I had been serving could offer me nothing like this except an eternity of slavery and death. With this god I could have all I wanted all the pleasure I wanted and all the sensations that came with it. 

When I finally slept my dreams were filled with the brightest sounds and colours and Deandre would attend me once more. By the time I came fully to my senses I was alone and sweating from my excursions.

I took another hit of the drug and pledged my soul to the beauteous god who said his name was Slaanesh.

Word count: 1029


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

jaggedjaw said:


> wait how do you write thirst as a theme?


However you deem fit!


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## jaggedjaw (Oct 2, 2010)

shut yer yap before i clober ya wit me chopa

word count:922

Oi listen up ya grotz an' yoofs cause ise gots me a good storie ta tell ya. Wat's its called? It's called shut yer yap before i clober ya wit me chopa now quite. Once a long time ago dere was dis ork who was a warboss. LET ME FINISH SETIN DA STORY BEFORE YA INTERUPT ME AGAN YA GITZ! 

Now were was I? Oh ya, once a long time ago dere was dis ork who was a warboss who rela luved to fight. An' when I say dat I don't mean dat its bad, its just he rela RELA luved ta fight. Well anyways he was fightin' some chaos boyz and he rela like fightin dem. YES DEYS DA SAME CHAOS BOYZ WE FIGHTIN NOW NOW CRAM IT!

Now den 'e eventualy managed ta fight deys boss an' he killed him 'oweva after dat he was neva da same. He began saying strange thingas no normal ork would say like "HELP IM BEING POSEED BY A DEMI BOY" and we 'ad no reasson to figa out why he did that. He also began ta do weird things like takeing the skulls of 'is enemies, bathin in dere blood, and bathin in general. Eventualy 'e began ta lead WAAAGH!!!s that would result in all 'is followas dead an' then they made up 'is bath wata. WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP?

WHY WON'T YA JUST SHUT UP AN' STOP ASKIN SHUCH STUPID AND GROT LIKE QUESTIONS YA SQUIG? Now were was I? GREAT I LOST ME PLACE AN ILL HAVE TA START ALL OVA AGAIN YA GITZ! Once a long time ago dere was dis ork who was a warboss who rela luved to fight. At Da same time he was fightin' some chaos boyz and he rela like fightin dem.

Now den 'e eventualy managed ta fight deys boss an' he killed him 'oweva after dat he was neva da same. He began saying strange thingas no normal ork would say like "HELP IM BEING POSEED BY A DEMI BOY" and we 'ad no reasson to figa out why he did that. He also began ta do weird things like takeing the skulls of 'is enemies, bathin in dere blood, and bathin in general. Eventualy 'e began ta lead WAAAGH!!!s that would result in all 'is followas dead an' then they made up 'is bath wata. An' 'e also began forcin some strange changes on us boyz.

Some of da changes was mina onez an' we din't mind haveing them like 'aving ta take da skulls of da enemis. But some of da otha ones was just to weird for us boyz. Most of dem were like how we had to respect some of da chaos boyz who wandaded inta camp. HOW DA GORK SHOULD I KNOW WAT DEY'S WAS DOING DERE NOW SHUT YA TRAP! 'oweva all of those mina changes was nothin' compared to da big 'un.

'un day wes all crawl outa bed ta descova dat all da idols o' Gork AN' Mork 'ad been crashed ta da floor and all o' dem had dere heads choped off deys did. In addition ta dat almost all o' da nobs 'ad been murdad during da night and also 'ad dere 'eads choped off. An' deys was chaos boyz evera were and dey forced us ta go ta a main arera outside o' da camp. WE LISTENED TA DEM BECAUSE WE DIN"T KNOW DAT DEYS WAS CHAOS BOYZ AT DA TIME YA ZOGGER! Eva way what we saw in da main arera was a blasphamy beyond all o' us wildyest drems.

'e 'ad torn down and melted all our stompas and made a rella huge fing dat looked kinda werd an i cant rella explain it. 'e was also red now and 'ad some 'orns growin out da top of his 'ead like the pain boy wurked on him or somethin. eva way he was flanked by some of da chaos speesh mahines and 'e began talkin to us in a rella unorky like voice. Long storie short 'e promised us da biggest an' badest WAAAGH!! eva an' all we 'ad to do was worship korn an fersake gork and mork. So we killed 'em all.

It was aboot dat time dat da boss began ta explode and then there was a giant demi-boy were 'e was an' then all da pieces fell togheta, da boss was neva an ork in da furst place he was rella a chaos boy 'ho managed ta pertend ta be an ork cause 'e knew dat orks was betta den de otha races. So we killled 'im. Becasue i dont know of any ork who would want ta werk for da chaos boyz cause den we'd have ta give up gork an' mork. Afta' we killed da demi-boy da chaos boyz ran away wit dere tails between dere legs and fer da ones witout tails dey just ran like a grot. Course wen dey started runnin us boyz went in dere ta chop dem up. 

An' dats da end o' me story now get back ta wurk. Huh? WAT IN DA NAME OF GORK AND MORK IS A MERAL O' DA STERY YA ZOGGER. YA NO WAT JUST FER DAT(HACK). DERE NOW DO ANY OTHA OF YA SQUIGS WANT TA NO WAT DA MERAL O' DA STERY IS? GOOD NOW GET LOST!


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I hope you enjoyed shut yer yap before i clober ya wit me chopa


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Great entries so far! As an update, *Commissar Ploss has agreed to start featuring the winners in The Heretic*, so let's get writing!


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## C'Tan Chimera (Aug 16, 2008)

Ooh, this seems fun- you'll probably be seeing me in the future. I don't want to spell out the contents of the story and ruin the point of it, but let's just say I'm expanding upon curious fluff left unexplored.

*A Wretched Silence Examined*
A Warhammer 40,000 short story, 1000 words right on the dot​


You can never comprehend. You will never know what I have tried so hard to forget.

I speak to you now in the body, the rippling surge of matter against matter. My eyes cannot speak for me. My mouth does not move. Only this occupation of space, this metal skeleton can create any expression. The expressions found within the flesh; the gashes, lacerations, gaping holes and carved skin.

You will never know what I feel, what I have spoken; the same words we sowed across Oblivion eons ago. Those words have blossomed into essence upon the universe it sprouted from. Hatred. Weakness. Pain. Genocide. Since the beginning we have thirsted for so much more then what we were. We hungered for that just barely beyond our grasp. We would never have made it this far had we not been gorged on that which one can only find at the bottom.

Hatred kept our will alive. When all else failed to make our blood surge with purpose, it nurtured us and weaned us like a twisted mother.

Weakness kept our ambition alive. The shame that dwelled within, the guilt of unfulfilled destiny brought us forward, one foot after another. 

Pain kept our bodies alive. It was our discipline, the reminder of our failures and that we were still alive, if only barely by its fickle definitions. 

Genocide kept our race alive. It unified us under one desire. If we couldn’t overcome our fate, Genocide would allow us to drag everyone else down to our level for company of misery. 

Yet I know you do not understand this. You do not understand that which I unceasingly try to show each of you as I reach out for you. I understand that no amount of blood spilled and bones broken can ever convey a tangible idea, a message that may be understood universally. Yet I try anyway if only to justify my actions, no matter how weak it really is. 

Some things cannot be understood, much like what I desperately try to convey. They have taught your kind that death is a blessing…But for all the wrong reasons. In the end, everything is supposed to die. No matter how briefly or no matter how long, everything dies. Time itself is the only permanent, yet it dares not mingle with the abominations we have become. I am neither alive, nor am I free from the confines of the material plain.

I have become Death Itself. That thin scythed blade that serves as the dividing line between the trillions alive and the innumerable dead. My brethren have been It for so long that they no longer even think of it, let alone anything else. Days slipped into months and months into years. Years became centuries and centuries became seconds. Even the seemingly immortal aspect of time has faded from my comprehension altogether. My condemnation and the agony of its burden will never end for time has lost all meaning. I am the referee between life and death, constantly judging but alone and unable to take part in either role ever again. My brothers have suffered likewise, but I still envy them.

They have lost all drive, all meaning, all awareness. They are no longer even the echoes of the ancient hatred that sill resonates within their empty sockets. Only I remain, and only I know that I lead them to become these pitiful husks. I envy them, if they can even be thought of as entities any longer. I envy their liberation from the self imposed definitions of this universe. 

They are just grisly toys. But at least they will never know how far they have fallen; how much they’ve let their ancestors down when they once promised them they knew how to save them from pain and suffering. I was not so lucky. I trudge on alongside them, leading them forward into the eternal harvest. 

They may never be sentient again and thus never hold judgment, but that which I hold upon myself is enough. The doom of my entire race sags against these tired metal shoulders. It slowly but patiently erodes my conscience, my dignity, my once impenetrable denial. Like damnable waves it seeps its way into every corner, every crevice and every hollow of my being. That which Time itself cannot physically wear down, this Guilt does for it. 

Perhaps your leader feels just like I do as this legion’s master. We both had our thirsting to stand above all else. We fought long and hard, just to be trapped within this material prison and forever be unable to escape it. Ambition has given away to the stagnation of eternity, and to fully understand that it has no end is to abandon hope. We both watch over our kind, desperate to save them from the mindless slavery they have willingly undertaken. Yet we are no longer truly your masters. Rather, we are merely sad reminders of our races undertakings. We have taken different roads and used different methods to reach the same destination at different times. 

It may be impossible to win that pointless mortal game, yes. I once took my role in it but knew not what I had. What we had. We had an experience and we cared not for it but the destination at its end. 

You see me loom before you and know Death. It’s a gift that I may give but will never receive no matter how many times I am struck. All that thirst so long ago was sated and was never enough. It’s simpler than ever before yet all but impossible. All I want now, after so much, is to scream. I just want to scream one last time. I know I have lost. I know I can never be freed from what I have forged for myself. I just want to let it all out before I continue about my impossible task. 

I just want to scream. 

I can’t.

Yours will have to do.


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## jaggedjaw (Oct 2, 2010)

is that a c'tan or just a necron lord?


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## C'Tan Chimera (Aug 16, 2008)

jaggedjaw said:


> is that a c'tan or just a necron lord?


Just a Lord. I read that Lords retain more of their personality and memories then any other Necron unit. Plus, a C'tan would hardly be griping with the sort of deal they've got going on for them.


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Grey
Word Count: 1036

The world is grey.

Grey, _dull_. It has been..._years... how many?_...since I have felt truly alive. I crave... _sensation._

However, my desires are denied to me. My cravings continue unsatisfied. I am trapped in my own inadequate body, trapped by my inability to act upon my urges, my uncontrollable urges.

Once, I was free, unshackled by these fools, these _pawns_. I roamed the stars, enslaving thousands, _millions_, showing them the meaning of true release.

I feel a stirring within me, a desire, indescribable in its intensity. Yet still, without the ability to act upon it, my thirst continues unabated, in this grey world.

Frustration seizes me, hatred flows through my veins. For the millionth time, I struggle at my bonds, at the chains holding me to the stone wall of this dungeon, in captivity like a dog. For the millionth time, I listen intently, desperate to hear a groan in the steel, a weakness in the links.

The cuffs dig into my skin, scraping away the layers of coagulated blood and scarcely healed flesh. The pain courses through my body, and my arousal at the sensation heightens.

I scream. I scream until my throat is raw, and I hawk bloody phlegm onto the dusty rocks below me. I shudder again in utter ecstasy, at the pleasure of the pain, without one there cannot be another, and I remember.

I remember the time... before, when I was free. Free to satisfy my thirst, my thirst for pain, pleasure, _death_. To one that has not experienced it as I, it is indescribable. Without it, without the shrieks of pain competing with my cries of abandonment, life has no meaning. To a being such as I, a chosen son of Slaanesh, an immortal, existence is futile and purposeless.

The warp take the bastards for apprehending me. The Angels of Fire Space Marines had been awaiting my arrival and ambushed me immediately upon my reversion to realspace from the aether. Their Librarians have tried to break me, to learn the whereabouts of my brethren. I have not caved, as their torture is the only pleasure in this grey place. My mission incomplete, there will only be shame awaiting my return to my brethren upon the _Theta_. The Venom Guard will be displeased with my failure... _unless_...

I must bring my masters a prize. A prize that will provide for the future of the Venom Guard.

Again, I scream with exertion as I pull at my bonds, and listen. Heavy drops of my blood spatter in the dust, against the walls. I ignore the bolts of ecstasy that shudder through my body, and pull.

A creak. _A creak_. Yes, a creak. The steel has finally come to its breaking point, and is losing its integrity.

I scream again, not the frustrated and impotent cries of the captured, but the roar of the possessed. I pray to my master for strength, I cry litanies to His unholy Name.

_He answers!_ Power flows through my arms and I pull harder yet... harder... _harder! Crack!_ The chains snap, shattering my manacles and lacerating my arms. My body quivers at the flare of pain... _exquisite._

I bring my wrists to my mouth, running my long tongue along the blood pouring from my wounds. The coppery taste, it has been far too long since I have satisfied my thirst with it...

Another creak, different this time, shatters my moment of triumph. A scarlet and gold helm appears from behind the massive entry; the sentry has been alerted by the noise.

I cry out again, a scream of undying hatred, unyielding lust, and dive for the head. The figure is quick, bursting the door open in an attempt to throw me back.

It is too late. I have my enemy’s head grasped in my hands. He struggles, throwing blow after blow into my naked torso. A rib snaps, and I am unable to suppress my cry of ecstasy at the sensation.

With a mighty tug, I pull the warrior to his knees, and twist his head violently. With a loud snap, I shatter the Angel’s neck and the body becomes limp.

Rapidly, I strip the warrior of his armour, and don it myself. The spirit within fights at first, but it is weakened by the sudden demise of its master. I remove the helm and again pray to my God, and feel the brush of the warp as the armour’s spirit is subdued and enslaved to my will and it bonds with my carapace. Sensations flood through me, not the pleasure of pain of the infliction of it, but the heightened awareness only fully attained through the Astartes-armour bond.

I kneel down beside the limp form of the warrior, gently laying my helm beside him. I see he still yet lives, and an unbound fury lights his eyes. His hatred runs deep, almost as deep as my own.

‘Fear not, young one,’ I whisper into the paralyzed Space Marine’s ear, ‘your sacrifice will be remembered. Your death will bring new life to my Company, and your life will fuel the fires of Chaos as they burn your Imperium to the ground.’

His eyes flare with his impotent rage and I laugh as I bend down over him.

I am no apothecary. I do not have the proper devices to extract the Marine’s precious geneseed. I bare my mouth, unhinging my jaw and savagely bite into the prostrate Angel’s bare neck. I treasure the gurgle of blood as it pumps furiously through his severed arteries, spraying my face and the walls with a crimson mist.

I pull the geneseed out, still trailing membranes and tissue, and tuck it away into my pirated gear.

The outpost I am imprisoned upon is small, they will not know I have escaped.

My hearts flutter at the thought of the coming slaughter as I engage the fallen Marine’s chainsword.

I will escape. I will drink again the pleasures of existence, satisfy my thirst. I will bring my Master the loyalist geneseed to replenish our ranks. I tremble with the thought of the coming slaughter.

I don my helm and smile.

The world is grey, but it will not be so for long.


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Just four more days gents! Get those stories in :victory:


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## Kaiden (Apr 1, 2010)

*We Hunger*

Hey guys, I only saw this thread this morning. I love the idea and the posts so far. I'm gonna have a stab at the tyranids point of view, so please let me know what you think. (I had no idea if a Hive Mind would refer to itself as I or We, in the end We sounded a bit more menacing:grin

We Hunger - Word count 1017

_*We hunger........ we feel the urge, insatiable, we will feast on them and they shall become one with us. The prey has resisted us, holed up in their fortress they fought on against us, struggling against our peace and unity. These ones set most of their world alight to stop us, burning many of our bodies. They shelter behind their walls but we will not be denied, we shall consume all and we will be whole once more, and our unity will be stronger still. *_

‘Diggers!’ The warning bellowed from voxcasters across the outer walls, as the quakes intensified. This was the fourth subterranean assault in just over an hour, the xenos weren’t letting up. The churning ground beyond the city walls suddenly exploded and a torrent of earth and dust was sent flying dozens of meters through the air. An unholy shriek pierced the ears of the guardsmen, drowning out even the sounds of the anti-air guns and as the dust and dirt settled, another of the snake beasts loomed over the quaking defenders. 

‘Bring it down.’ Shouted Sergeant Kade as he took aim at the massive xenos terror and unloaded his venerable bolt pistol. Around him the horrified guardsmen of the Veritian 217th began to fire. Hundreds of lasbolts and heavy bolter shells impacted on the creature’s carapace, scoring shallow pits across its surface, but it showed no sign of slowing. The beasts lashed out with its massive tail crushing an entire section of the ferrocrete wall and the guardsmen manning it to a gory pile of rubble.

As the Trygon continued to wreak death and terror among the defenders, scores of smaller Tyranids poured through the cavernous tunnel in its wake, fleeting through the hastily dug mine field and the deadly maze of las fire. Explosions bloomed and limbs flew as the creatures triggered the deadly traps but their numbers were legion and they simply pressed on. Clearing the field they leapt through the newly made breach in the wall and into the fortress-city.

_*We thirst.......the prey is close now we can smell their fear, and taste their dread. We feel flesh give way under our claws, we see their terror from a hundred thousand eyes. We slash. We leap among and around them, We rend, and we thirst for more.*_

Screams and gunfire filled the air as Hormagaunts cleared the breach and fell upon the defenders, cutting through them with brutal efficiency, staining the streets with their blood. The sheltering civilians cried out and prayed as their last bastion against the aliens crumbled before them. Any hope they clung to, died completely as a brood of Termagants clawed their way into the basilica, silencing their cries for good. The sound of massive impacts rang out through the fortress city as huge Carnifex beasts tore through the city’s main gates, allowing a tide of chitin and teeth to wash over the defenders. Seconds after the gate had fallen, the monstrous Tyranids responsible were atomised by a demolisher shell from a Veritian’s Baneblade. As if reacting the death of the beasts at the gate, the ground underneath the ancient tank gave way as Mawlocs destroyed this threat the the hive.

An explosion shook the city and levelled the city’s eastern power plant as a brood of Genestealers completed their deadly task. Gouts of flame and smoke filled the air and the constant, reassuring sound of the automated guns fell silent. No sooner had the guns stopped their deadly work, Gargoyles and Shrikes that had been circling out of sight filled the sky, swooping down and sowing further death among the blood soaked streets. Under the carnage and slaughter, thousands of Ripper creatures burst forth from the city’s sewers and began to consume the fallen, man and slain Tyranid alike in a glut fuelled frenzy.

The Veritian’s fell back to the spaceport, their last hope of survival on this doomed world. Abandoning their war machines and heavy weapons, they broke and ran, losing scores of men every minute to the advancing horde of alien nightmares. 

Through the midst of the dead and the dying strode the towering Hive tyrant. The ground itself trembled under its terrible psychic influence, all the lower creatures attacked in perfect synchronicity around it, unleashing carnage untold without a movement wasted. The tyrant raised its talons and let loose a howl of baleful psychic energy, those few defenders who had not abandoned their posts, had the sanity torn from their very souls under the presence of the Hive Mind.

*We consume........The prey falls and we consume, millions of our mouths feed on them. They are become one with us. As the last of their defences crumble under our will, we consume the world around them. We drink their oceans dry and consume their lands. We are becoming one. *

Kade was the last of the Veritians to reach the spaceport, he ran frantically as the gates were pushed closed, barely avoiding a torrent of borer beetles. Instead of joining the few dozen remaining guardsmen manning a defence, he kept running, past the chaos of officers and wounded. All pretence of rank and order had vanished. Kade charged up the flights of stairs to reach the flight centre, and looked out onto the flightpads. What he saw destroyed the last threads of hope keeping him together. A trio of tyranid bio-titans had broken through the wall on the far side of the city and were destroying the evac transports.

‘How could the mindless beasts know’ he whispered, as tears ran freely down his cheeks. Falling to his knees, he offered a prayer to the God-Emperor. Seconds later the glass flight tower was engulfed in a sea of claws and talons. 

*We descend upon the world and drink deep of the unity, their essence devoured only for more of us to have form. We do not forsake or leave any living thing behind, for we are now one and now at peace.*

*We feel the thirst again, we will bring our unity to another world of sadness.

We hunger once more......*


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## jaggedjaw (Oct 2, 2010)

that is a good view point of tyranids and exactly why i don't like them.
the only thing good about them were the brood brothers but they aren't around anymore.


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## VulkansNodosaurus (Dec 3, 2010)

Of the Ether
VulkansNodosaurus
914 words
Heresy Online Expeditious Stories Contest 2: Thirst​ He was thirsty.
It was rather troubling, in truth. There had been times when satiating the thirst had been simple- one simply sat in their star and collected energy. In the War in Heaven, though, everything changed. The trade-off had seemed worth it then- living beings were much tastier than stars.
They were more expensive, though.
The troubles the stock went to in order to preserve their lives was hilarious at first, but after two near-death experiences, he learned quickly. Living beings were not to be slowly and simply devoured like stars. Eating them required cunning and long-term planning.
His thirst did not help long-term planning. His thirst cried out for sacrifices, and now.
This was troubling. First of all, humans- the species that he found the most delicious- did not like it when an important figure drank another’s life blood. Secondly, he was in disguise, and becoming a golden-skinned monstrosity- even aboard this ship filled with fools- would not help his standing.
Before he could remember the third reason, his head began shaking. He needed energy, and fast.
He was almost alone- still, for a quick sip even the psyker would have to do. She was known for her frequent disagreements with him, for she could see something off about him. Still, he was called the Deceiver for his ability to keep secrets, and somehow, until now, he had managed to keep his secret.
The thirst called out again, and in a quick motion he unfurled a trail of white material beneath him. The cloth suddenly appearing from her master surprised the psyker, but the god continued. The “Inquisitor”’s skin started to glow, softly at first but with an ever-rising intensity. A mask pulsed into existence on the Deceiver’s head, and great ears filled it. Strange textures from before the dawn of time flashed across the Deceiver’s skin, and then the being was no longer Inquisitor Herw, or any human for that matter.
The Deceiver didn’t consider such trivial matters. Instead, it lunged at the psyker, piercing its frail skin. The physical world bore little that revealed the battle that was occurring in the Null, the aetheric plane. The Deceiver was stretched thin enough to pass through spaceship hulls, yet thick enough to solidify inside the mortal’s body.
The psyker’s soul was torn from her body in a wrenching motion. She was once named Indigo, but now she was merely a figment in that monstrous realm of nonsensical, new gods. Her body was still alive, but the Deceiver now moved inside it as well. Her energy was transferred through golden filigree to the Deceiver’s center, which slowly again came into existence again. Centralizing, the C’Tan spun on its axis, but paradoxically this did not fling more of him out but rather pulled matter in. The energy from the human was thus sucked in, as Indigo’s husk fell apart, scattering dust on the floor.
It wasn’t the quickest way of drinking, but it was the most efficient, and without doubt the most spectacular. With this in mind, it took milliseconds for the Deceiver to hear a rhythmic clapping from the room’s entrance.
The Sisters.
They were fanatical warriors, insanely devoted to their god- who happened to set a record for the least godlike deity anyone worshipped- and highly= dangerous. They had wiped out many of his loyal Necron warriors (not that they could avoid being loyal, being robots) through time. He could easily devour them, of course, but that would hurt his mission plan.
“You have returned!” one said with an attempt at some respectful gesture. Of course, with the highly uncomfortable armor she was wearing, that was a highly ineffective attempt.
It took the Deceiver a few moments to realize who they were mistaking him for.
The Emperor. Their “god”. The corpse on their home planet.
The Deceiver privately marveled at their sheer idiocy while he struggled to say something.
“No, this is not the Emperor, but an impostor! Look at his ears!”
The other Sororitas was apparently not planning to be as respectful.
“You are a fool, Jeiua, a compassionate fool! The Emperor protects us, and now he has come down to our humble ship in the guise of our dear lord. How may I serve you?”
The Deceiver thanked himself that the priest was there.
“Indeed,” it pronounced slowly, “I am the Emperor returned- yet I am not. I am merely a part of him, seeking to collect the whole. I bring His light, which is also My light. This woman was an extremely dangerous heretic, one that had to be destroyed for the Imperium to survive as it does today.”
Jeiua smirked. “Which part of the Emperor are you? Perhaps the ears, you blasphemous xenos?”
She was almost cut short by the Ecclesiarch’s bolter, but the shell impacted moments after she finished speaking.
“It is you,” Ecclesiarch Scefewum observed, “who we have paid homage to for thousands of years. Though you may not be whole, the very news that you have returned will sow hope across the Imperium. Your armies shall raze twice more cities; your Astartes shall destroy thrice as many planets; we will convert four times more heathens; and the Inquisition will burn five times as many heretics. The Imperium shall be purified in the flames of your noble rebirth, and the stars shall bow under our might, under humanity’s might, under your might.”
The Deceiver smiled, for his plans were working perfectly. Deep inside, a thirst stirred…


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## C'Tan Chimera (Aug 16, 2008)

I liked that one, Nodasaurus. Nobody has ever given the C'Tan much thought in fluff, so it was good fun to see some life breathed into their characters- plus, the idea of the C'tan himself pretending to be the Emperor to gather souls is just flat out priceless. Good job!


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## C'Tan Chimera (Aug 16, 2008)

Edit: WHOOPS wrong Expeditious topic. Feel free to delete this.


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