Community Story Project: Story Page

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Owl » 08 March 2016, 03:55

Commander Folt allowed the "hoorahs" to stop before addressing his crew over the shipwide intercom, "Fantastic work everyone, we just saved the Imperium from having to go to all the trouble pushing that piece of trash into the sun. Now how about we try a moving target this time? Helmsman! Bring the engines to half power and accelerate us for thirty seconds." With that Folt laid back in his command thrown, readying for the acceleration that gently pressed him into the feather stuffed cushions of the gaudy, opal inlayed chair.

Just fifteen meters away, Augur Adept Bolynas was standing with his hands braced against the lip of the Holo-Tank that dominated the center of Firebrand's bridge. Bordering on Archeotech, the ancient holo-projector operated through barely understood principals to render a three dimensional image of the surrounding battle-space with striking clarity, albeit only as neon outlines. It was a common joke passed around the bridge that the higher-ups would have yanked it out from under them and installed it in some Lord-Admiral's flagship if anyone had half an idea how the thing worked. As it stood, the Holo-Tank was emitting a low purring sound as it projected the view of GP-7, a grey planetoid surrounded by a glittering ring of derelicts and asteroids. While the Holo-Tank did not replace the need for all other sensor readouts, it was worlds better than having to hunch over the dark screen of a radar post. As Bolynas watched the bright orange outlines of the wreckage that littered this surrounding region of space, he noticed something peculiar. It was at this moment he realized they were being followed, but his warning came moments too late.

"Captain!" Bolynas's fingers were a blur of motion as he triggered the general alarm and highlighted the disturbing sensor contact, "See how all the contacts are drifting to the left of the screen due to our current acceleration? Well this one here isn't; In fact, its catching up to-" Boom! A crackling streak of green lightning struck the Firebrand's void shields, which barely managed to absorb the energy of the attack before failing, leaving the escort naked to the elements. Folt shook the ringing in his ears, and could vaguely hear Commisar Biltmore yelling about an Ork Rock closing in. The Helmsman began making evasive maneuvers as the unmistakable bulk of an asteroid careened through the scrap field between it and the Firebrand.

Ork Roks were little better than asteroids with a few ramshackle weapons and engines slapped onto them, but this one was obviously different: it bristled with weapon emplacements that had been looted from the dead ships that orbited GP-7, and the armor plating that covered it was nothing to sneeze at. Commander Felt bellowed "Turn us about and fire starboard battery at that monster! And man the hull defense guns; we can expect a boarding attempt shortly."

The distances in space battles normally stretched hundreds of thousands of kilometers. The scant tens of kilometers that now separated the Ork Rok and the Imperial ship was knife range by comparison. As UNK13 watched the unholy abomination of technology rocket towards them on dirty plasma fumes, he felt absolute pleasure in watching portions of it begin to shear off when the first Macro-Cannon shell flew through the Rok like a las-beam through butter. But the sheer immensity of the frankenstein vessel allowed it to ignore the damage, and at five kilometers out it began launching boarding craft. Ranging from jurryrigged Lifepods to rockets with a few seats strapped to them, the haph-hazard Ork craft that even came close to an intercept course with the Firebrand had to navigate a web of Point Defense guns. The beams of multi-lasers and the tracer fire of quad barreled heavy bolters wove through the target rich environment, but they could not hope to stop all of them. A total of fourteen shuttles managed to blitz the gauntlet and breach the hull.

"-and Kappa squad is closing on breaches Seven and Six. Reports are intermittent, but it looks like the bastards are following the plasma lines to the engine room. Enginseer Mila is trying to hold this hallway," Tahm slammed his beefy, steroid enlarged finger on the map for emphasis, "but they are not going to hold for long with the Armsmen in Section E-8 being bogged down. The forty of us are heading there to hold the line. Let's move!" The group, composed of Sergeant Tahm's veteran Armsmen, began to run down the dark metal corridors of the Firebrand's corridors like white blood vessels charging to the source of a rampant infection. Experts of their trade, the party skirted the edge of the halls with guns ready as the specialist Kine von Hilman tried to make sense of his Auspex.

After several minutes of unending maintenance hatches and crew corridors, they ran into their first intruder. The Ork looked like it had thrust its gut into an industrial grinder, and the decapitated head was stuffed into the resulting green mess. "Guess Mila got to him first." Tahm spit on the corpse. "Kine, directions?" "Just two more rights and then a left," said Kine, although his voice was muffled from the face plate on his helmet. "Hefny, you take point. It sounds like there's still fighting, so everyone be on your guard."
Last edited by Owl on 24 April 2016, 19:36, edited 15 times in total.

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby SladeTeck » 08 March 2016, 04:12

So this is my story, about my old Guardsman character that now is commanding a Marine Attachment for an Emperor Class Battleship. This story will be different than those you've read before it's more script styled. I hope you enjoy it, it's only an intro, I don't really write anymore so it might suck, hopefully not though.

Inquisitor Klattic has ascertained that Captain Argos, formerly attached to the Inquisitor's personal party is hereby ordered to report to you Captain and assume the position of Commander of your onboard Marine Forces. Should you find this order in error, you may request a formal hearing at the next port of call. Until then you are to follow these orders to the letter. Further orders are to follow.
////++++END VOX++++///

**Captain Pelor turned his command chair away from the techpriest as he closed the communication channel. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, and tried very hard to remain composed despite wanting to scream at the top of his lungs. Still orders were orders and who was he to complain? He stood from the command chair and stretched before walking to the bulkhead door**

Pelor: XO, you have the Bridge, I have some sensitive matters to attend to.

**His XO nodded and took the chair as he opened the bulkhead door and walked into the adjoining corridor. It took him a few minutes to get to the hangar, but nothing out of the ordinary given the massive ship. He opened the bulkhead doors and entered the hangar proper. A quick glance found nothing out of the oridinary, nearby a Thunderhawk was unloading cargo, sitting amongst the cargo containers was a surprisingly well dressed, if not weathered older man wearing combat Fatigues. As he slowly approached the Captain began to note further interesting things, mostly that this man was a combat veteran, he could see several long scars on his face, most of his hair was white as snow. The man stood at attention when he came up to greet the new crewmember.**

???: SIR!

Pelor: At ease soldier. *As Pelor sized the man up he could see that this was likely the man the Inquisitor had sent*

Pelor: I assume you are Argos?

Argos: YES SIR!

Pelor: Now, now, no need to be so formal on my ship. Everyone on this ship is family.

*Argos' stance relaxed and he nodded in agreement*

Argos: Where should I bunk my stuff si-Er...Captain?

Pelor: E deck will suffice there you'll find your Marine attachment as well. Take your time, it will be some months before we reach Port Maw.

*Satisfied, at least for now, at the Commander Pelor began to leave the Hangar, Argos quickly grabbed his duffle bag and followed him out.*

Argos: Sir, if you wouldn't mind, could you show me where E deck is?

*Pelor stopped in his tracks and smiled slightly.*

Pelor: Of course Commander this way.

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Flyingrhinoman » 08 March 2016, 22:54

Within Laser Battery 4:

Jokoff Talabec was a smallish man which normally was no problem as he was a priest, but he had suddenly been converted to the commander of the group of ogryns aboard the Firebrand. The ogryns were difficult to control with out a "Bone Head", but they were fanatically loyal to the emperor and so copied what ever they viewed the holiest person was doing. This meant that the poor small man was suddenly forced to do manual labor when he never so much as lifted a box in his life since joining the Ministorum, and was gravely uncomfortable to the sinewy old man.

The current circumstances made poor Jokoff wish he was back pulling on chains again. The Ork shuttles that had breeched the hull disgorged many more orks than first thought and so much of the crew was now in pitched battles with the increasingly joyful Orks. Now as Orks are the masters of the close ranged melee and so much of the ship was just dedicated to holding them off, except Laser battery 4. To Jokoff's dismay ogrnys are the undisputed chapions of the imperial navy close combate. The massive brutes made even orks think twice before attacking. their enormous strength meant that even un armed blows were deadly and armed with any weapon were out right fatal. Now, weapons more complex then a club are to expensive to give to ogryns as they normally come back broken, so they are armed with devastating Ripper guns. These enormous weapon are ridiculously sturdy and so suffer little from the orgyns preferred method of smashing. On top of that the guns fire enormously large rounds that make even heavy bolter shells look small. Normally the inability of the ogrnys to aim makes them more of a nuisance, but in confined space it makes them more terrifying then terminators.

Jokoff was now leading them down the central corridor leading the counter boarding parties into relinking the entire ship. Since the ogrnys were around him he was more concerned with their aim the the orks hurting him. As they got to a junction, the space around Jokoff exploded with noise.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH" shouted the orks as they sprinted down the left passage at the orgyns. Immediately Jokoff dove on the ground in fear and covered his head, until he heard over his comms one of the security officers yell "Tell the damn preist to stand up because ogryns lying down are as useful as ratlings". Realizing that if he continued to lay there Biltmore would probably execute him for cowardice, Jokoff stood up and started to shoot at the charging orks with his puny laspistol. Less then a second later there was a noise that made the poor priest wet his pants. With a noise that made even the orks sound quite the Ripper Guns opened fire, and the emperor's wrath was visited on the Xenos. Orks exploded as the shells ripped in to them often passing through several orks before becoming non leathal. As the orks reached the Ogrnys the real strength of the ogryns was revealed to Jokoff. He watched as one ogryn picked up a largeish ork with one hand and use him as a second club as he battered his way through the orks, another started to swing his gun as a club and every blow orks were pounded to a goopy mass. Orks hacked and slashed back at the monstrous ogryns, but to little avail, the beasts cared little for the flesh wounds or were just to stupid to notice. Just minutes after the initial lash all the Orks were dead and Jokoff was standing in a puddle of urine still bewildered at what he had witnessed. The corpse of the orks were little more than random pieces and the ogryns seemed no more tired than when the scuffle had begun. Jokoff thanked the emperor that these monstrosities were on the ship as he was sure that even the orks would fall before their wrath. Before moving on Jokoff quickly grabbed the pants of one of the fallen crewman as his own were soiled, and with renewed confidence led his terrifying flock to purge the Aliens once more
For those who challenge the might of the Imperium I laugh at you as you desperately try to damage the armored prow while I watch you scrabble to doge my glorious swarm of torpedoes. Eldar please run away

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Alexi_Menser » 09 March 2016, 05:52

Mortals are fools came the thought unbidden into his mind.

Kano felt a momentary confusion before he realized the source of the thought came from his newly acquainted guest. He smiled, although none around him would see it beneath his grim helmet. He took a moment then sent a thought back.

Indeed I would have to agree with you there Urganon, although I must question if you include me in that comment

The guest chuckled maliciously for a few moments, clearly amused at the reply. It subsided after a few long moments, then a thought entered Kano's mind again.

For now Kano, for now

Then the presence subsided and Kano was left alone to his thoughts. The thoughts were grim from the knowledge that a Daemon, for that was what Urganon was, considered him a fool. Regardless however, Kano knew that as long as he didn't make any poor choices then he may eventually pass the Daemon's standards, and perhaps hope for the chance to leave the mortal realm and join the Gods Realm, the blessed warp for all eternity.

But for now, that was a distant goal. More pressing issue's were in sight.

Your mental control is commendable human, you did well to devote yourself to my lord and in turn offer yourself to me. A fool you may be, but far better than those I have joined with in the past the thought came again, quick and yet succulent to the Chaos Space Marine. A small surge of pride welled inside him but within a moment he crushed it, wary of the effect such emotions may bring.

Good, you know to control yourself even when praised.

The entity prowled within his mind for a moment, then stopped and stared out into the void. Not through conventional eyes did it stare, but through the minds eye, using the powers of Kano as well as it's own to search for something. Kano felt it as well, and aligning with Urganon he cast his mind's eye out towards what he felt were distant flares in the Immaterium.

At the same moment both Space Marine and Daemon found what they were searching for. The presence of a ship filled with life travelling in the warp, and then moments later they had found three more.

Interesting, it seems the lapdogs of the False-Emperor are early. came the Daemon's thought, filled with a mixture of annoyance and a sense of eagerness.

Then we had best make sure they arrive late. he thought back in response.

Kano drew in a fresh breath of air through the respirator and sighed. His eyes flickered open and at once he took in the sight before him. Rows of monitors sat below him, a mixture of servitors and crewmen at each. Several of his fellow Chaos Space Marines moved among the data-banks, monitoring the crewmen. Massive displays were dormant, no image yet shown on their screens and the blast shields still covered real space from view.

'Silence' rasped Kano from upon his command dais. Instantly the bridge went silent, and all eyes, or those who had them were upon him. 'It seems our former comrades have decided to try and stop the plans of The Changer. We think it best that this does not come to pass. Mecara, are your sorcerer's ready to summon the warp storm?'

A robed figure stepped out of the shadows near the dais.

'Indeed, the Changer has granted us with the power we need. You're sorcerer's were well trained by my brothers and I, and we ourselves are more than equipped for the task.' came the reply, echoing throughout the bridge. One or two of the human crew glanced around nervously as the Thousand Son spoke, feeling unnerved by the unnatural echoes.

They flatter your sorcerer's. Besides yourself, your rogue marines have little talent. But I admit, the Chosen of Tzeentch will more than make up for it.

Will they suffice? Kano thought as the Daemon finished it's message.

I shall assist them as needed, bu indeed they shall suffice.

'Very well Mecar, you may start at once.' The robed figure turned about and disappeared through a door, a glimpse of Blue and Yellow shown briefly as the robes started to flutter in a non-existent wind. 'As for the rest of you, battle stations, we shall shortly have company.'

There was a flurry of activity as the crew set about preparing the ship for war. Amidst the chaos two of the marines stepped forward. They both wore the crimson power armour that had sustained them through many a fight while still loyalist's, they now sported mutations, gift's from their master. Just like himself, they were Possessed, yet like himself they retained much of their own mind and functioned just as they had before.

'Is there an issue brothers?' Kano asked in his rasping voice. The two looked at one another and nodded.

'It seems that we will be facing familiar foes today Lord Librarian.' came the voice of the first, Nora.
'Indeed, I detect the will of one Librarian aboard the lead ship. One that you have a very close relationship with' came the second voice, Numa.

Kano's eyes narrowed, although the brothers never saw this. 'It seems they would send the remainder of our Loyalist Brothers to fight us. How ironic. Are you sure it is Koran?'

'Quite' came Nora's swift reply.

'The lead ship will be the Passing of Regret then. I wonder how formidable the old Battle Barge is now? Do you suppose they have enacted full repairs since we took our leave?'

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

Then Numa spoke. ' Regardless, it appears there are five ships in total. Alongside the Passing of Regret there appears to be another two ships from our former chapter, the strike cruisers Taint's Ruin and the Saint Monera, and two firestorm class frigates.'

Five... Ah, I see, another ship has just joined their fleet. Urganon added mentally.

'Do you know the name of the frigates? Surely one of them must be the Dark Countess, but I recollect the Unending Pursuit was damaged beyond repair?'

The brothers conferred again, then both fell silent for a few moments. Kano felt that their mind's eye's were far away from here, then they were back.
'It appears you are correct. The second frigate has only a human crew, and goes by the name Firebrand.'

'I see. Thank you for the information brothers. Go now and prepare your forces, I suspect we will need to fight them up close.'

The brothers both nodded their heads then turned and left the command deck. Kano went back to his inner thoughts. Abaddon had chosen well to offer him a position in his Crusade, and it seems the promise he made to allow Kano and his traitorous brothers the chance to annihilate their loyalist counterparts had been granted.

I look forward to settling our dispute with our former brothers Kano thought with some anticipation.

So do I Mortal, So do I... the Daemon whispered.

The warp storm blazed into existence in the immaterium around them, and the hounds readied for war.
Wit Beyond Measure Is Man's Greatest Treasure

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Owl » 10 March 2016, 02:04

The second half of the 1'st combat piece.

"I've counted thirty or so bodies so far sir. The Orks must have caught them when they were fleeing to the strong points," whispered Kine von Hilman as he gingerly stepped around the gory mess that had once been a member of the engine maintenance crews. They were moving down a large, dimly lit corridor with a massive heat transfer pipe running along its length, and the catwalk that the party was on was littered with the bodies and limbs of the ratings that had been working in the area. Tahm lead his Armsmen on with a confidence forged from battle conditioning and focus drugs, and as they worked their way through the catwalks the body-armor clad, gorilla of a man motioned for his thirty strong company to get in breaching positions along the massive blast doors that lead to the Firebrand's Engine compartments.

Kine spoke up as he sorted through the readings pouring across his Auspex's screen, "Temperature behind these doors is about as hot as you'd expect in an engine room, but nothing that indicates a plasma leak. But I am reading heat signatures, human sized and Orkoid, moving around, and only one is putting out enough EM radiation to be Enginseer Mila. But she is distant, and the energy from the Reactor is making exact range-finding impossible." Tahm nodded his muscular, balding head as he decided on the next course of action. With a few discrete hand signs from his massive hands, the Armsmen on the opposite side of the doors hit the "open" sygil and waited as the meters thick walls of ceramite began to grind open. Immediately, sounds of gunfire and frantic yelling as well as a bright blue light spilled into the corridor. The Armsmen stormed through.
Enginseer Mila looked for all the world like an avenging Tech-Angel of the Omnisiah, with her back up against the great symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus and blood soaked mechadendrites flared menacingly. She had beat a hasty retreat to the inner sanctum of the Reactor chamber once it became obvious she was doomed. Half of her mechadendrites were damaged beyond repair in the earlier confrontation with the green brutes, and though she had killed twenty four of them they had managed to kill most of the ratings at her makeshift chokepoint and destroy her personal defense servitor. Now she was cornered by the last thirteen of the brutes that had desecrated her place of worship, without any hope other than the mathematically backed certainty that she could kill two more of them before they finished her off.

The largest one, covered from head to toe in scars and armor plating, raised his power Klaw in an awkward salute, "HAHAHA! You meta' gits always put up a good fight. I appreciate it, really; it be a change from the humies that get squishy from the smallest tap." He brought his Klaw down on the deck with a loud, resonant BANG. "But now you gonna die." With a savage grunt he charged at Mila, his trunk-like legs carrying him across the distance between them in a bare second. But nothing is too quick for a Techpriest, and in single combat she was a tornado of murder: her mechadendrites flashed through the Ork Nob's guard and burried their mono-drills into his eye sockets, as her ceremonial staff's fusion torch sprayed into fiery life in a wide upswing that cut the ork in half. ONE MORE The next came from her left, and she jerkilly ducked the metal club as it swung over her head. She launched her metal fist in a hydraulically assisted uppercut, but was surprised to meet only air. The ork's head was gone, its green blood spurting out of the half-cauterized stump of its neck like a fountain in the bright blue light of the Reactor.

"Nice shot Jenor," Tahm said over the Vox-bead. The shot had been stupidly risky, but it had probably saved the Enginseer's life. But the Orks were pissed: they spun around with a speed that belied their predatory nature, and came face to face with the grey, armored wall of Tahm's firing line. With a roar from his massive lungs that rung through-out the cavernous chamber, Tahm yelled, "Feth em' up!"

The standard Las-Rifle is capable of sustained fire for roughly a hundred shots, though the exact number varies from pattern to pattern; each shot is capable of punching through an unarmored man with ease, but armor as simple as the slabs of metal strapped onto the orks was capable of stopping several shots before being rendered useless. Even after the armor is weakened, the ruggedly simple physiology of an ork can suffer a lot of damage before finally dying, attributed mainly to an ork's leather like skin and incredible tissue density. That is where the twin-linked, Mezoa Pattern rifle came into play: the bulky weapon's closely packed emitters put out twice the energy of the a normal lasgun, allowing each shot to punch through thick body armor and cut into vital organs. The catch was that the gun could not handle the heat it generated, and could only be safely fired for sixty rapid-fire shots before it became necessary to let the gun rest.

The Orks made a slow advance as they waded through the wall of fire, falling one by one as the eye-searing bolts cored them again and again. Their crude armor was useless under the concentrated barrage. As the three remaining orks, wounded but far from dead, reached within arms length of the firing line, the shotcannons ripped into them; the mono-molecular buck-shot reducing them to a disgusting spray of Xeno ichor and gore across the metal deck. With practiced ease the firing line broke up into double-tap teams and patrol parties that began the slow progress of securing the maze of pipes that made up the Engine section.

Mila, her hand pressed against her side to keep her few remaining organs inside of her, slowly limped on a busted hydraulic leg to the Armsmen,"You have performed your function admirably. Thank-" was all she managed to say, before the Enginseer collapsed to the ground. The Medicae rushed over to her aid, but for all his skills and effort there was little he could do. By the time she arrived at the Ship Surgeon, Enginseer Mila was dead.
Back on the bridge of the Firestorm

"Commisar Biltomore is reporting the boarding parties have been repelled, and sends a special commendation to the Ogryn crew of Macro Cannon Four." Folt was so damnably tempted to let out a sigh of relief, but his self-control wouldn't let a show of weakness slip between his strong facade. He settled on a simple nod, "I expected nothing less from the Armsmen. How are targeting calculations coming along?" The attendant scanned across his data-slate for a few seconds, "Thankfully, the Cogitator Dome wasn't breached, so Couplu's staff have been able to work non-stop. The scanner crews have identified the heat signature of the Rok's reactor core, and even at its current speed and heading it will be within a few light seconds by the time we're ready to fire." The Rok had not stopped to engage the Firestorm, and was currently outbound on a direct course for the Portmouth system's Hive Planet. An Astropathic distress call had been sent out, but Folt wasn't willing to bet the lives of billions of people on the chance the planetary defenses would be able to destroy the Ork craft. The unarmored engines of the Rok provided a clear target at the ships systems, and an opportunity that Folt was not willing to pass up.

A vox message screached over the communication speakers, "By the grace of the Omnissiah, the shell has been loaded. May the rageful machine spirits guide the ammunition to its target, and avenge the fallen priestess." Fallen priestess? His skin began to crawl, but Folt set his worries aside for another day. "All crew, standby for firing." After a moment of thought, he added,"Turn your prayers to destruction of the dreaded xeno, for if the Emperor is listening we need him to aid us in this hour." He flicked the com switch off, and bowed in his own moment of prayer. It was out of his hands now.

The Macro-cannon roared, its vibration nearly knocking over the Voidsmen that knelt beside it in silent worship. The ceramite round slid silently through space, unerringly following an intercept course to the bloated shape of the asteroid. It parted the long, ash ridden plumes of the Ork engines, and by the time it met the dusty, silver surface of the asteroid it glowed a dull red from the heat. Leaving an ever expanding crater on the surface, it smashed through each haphazardly arranged compartment it came across like the fist of an angry god, until it finally reached the core that powered the monolithic spaceship. The now misshapen, glowing chunk of ceramite destroyed the crude magnets that contained the plasma within. The energy released shattered the asteroid's surface, until the vaporized rock inside ruptured out of the deepest crevice, cracking the asteroid into two ember like halves, its contents and crew spilling out into the harsh white light of Portmouth's star.

Commander Folt relaxed in his chair for the first time in hours. He knew that in a few moments he would have to read the plethora of damage reports and crew casualities, which would undoubtedly pore in until the end of the week. For now, he satisfied himself with the thought that he and his crew had served the Imperium well. But as he ordered a course set for Station Vesuvius, he could not help but think of how sick he was of visiting the repair yards.

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Owl » 19 March 2016, 06:43

Excerpt #1 from Memoirs of Saint Bartholamew
Published 172.M41

The road to the Emperor's side is long. Paved intermittently in rock, dirt, ferrocrete, and adamantine, it crawls through dense forests, basks in deserts, wanders aimlessly through hive cities; at times it dives to the darkest depths, only to soar into the sky like a silver ribbon. I have had the pleasure of sharing this path with many people as I walked it, and though they all took their own detours, I have not forgotten the time I spent with them. A few faces stand out: the Tyrant of Thanet, who demonstrated an unconquerable will to survive; Commander Folt, who's kind council strengthened my flagging faith; Captain Omarex of the Imperial Fists, long may the stoic bastard live; Inquisitor Marsalla, who's zeal and humility put mine to shame.

I was traveling to the Portmouth system when I met Marsalla. She and her prodigy, a Commisar Biltmore if I remember correctly, were attending my impromptu service in one of the transport ship's empty cargo holds. While the space was far from a cathedral, I learned long before then that the place of worship is hardly as important as some ministers like to think; in the dank, cold interior of the ship, we had a cozy congregation of no more than fifty soldiers, ratings, officers, and even the odd adept. As we adjourned, I accidentally made eye contact with the Inquisitor, who nodded what I hoped was a sign of approval. It was rather hard to tell, as her hard yellow eyes, narrow eyebrows and thin lips made her a difficult read. I was a brave man then- still like to think I am- but all I managed to respond with was a shaky nod of my own; Inquisitors are a rare sight, and the few interactions I've had with them have made me fearful they will notice some bizarre sign that will have them burn me at the stake as a heretic. I blame my grandma for that, raising me with stories of the Emperor's inquisitors setting whole worlds on fire at the mere suggestion of heresy, which was a terrifying thought for a child who lived on a technologically poor agri-world.

As the room began to empty, the out-rushing crowd suddenly stopped moving, and the room fell silent. The only sound was the heavy, rhythmic sound of footfalls. The crowd parted, and before me stood a Space Marine. His shoulders were as wide as a man's legs were long, and the little of his neck and hands that could be seen under his loose, grey robes bulged with muscles and cord-like veins. He stood no less than eight and a half feet tall; I suddenly felt insignificant, like a mouse beneath a mountain. He opened his gigantic mouth to speak, but his voice revibrated with a deep timber from his trunk-like chest, "I'm sorry pastor, but my squad needs your asistance. Follow me." With that the post-human demi-god pivoted and walked out, leaving no room for me to argue or even question what was going on. Thankfully, because I was beyond terrified at this point, the Space Marines simply wanted a priest to perform the proper rites and rituals to sanctify the scrolls that adorned their armor. I learned that the leader of the small band of post-humans, the one who had pulled me out of my service, was Omarex. He and his fellow Imperial Fists had been forced to commandeer passage on the transport ship due to some earlier event that they refused to talk about- and I was not brave-or stupid- enough to press the topic. Looking back, I realize that it was that day that everything fell into place for the events that transpired afterwards, in the dark years of the Gothic War.

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Owl » 24 April 2016, 17:39

The Ultimate Demise lurked in low orbit of a nameless death world. The ship stood out from the glorious sea of stars like a puckered, bleeding sore: Its hull, marred and twisted like a burn victim's flesh, writhed and crawled with flies and maggots that had no right to exist in the airless void. The ship was a living shrine to Nurgle, its soul and those of its crew eternally bound to the dark god.

On The bridge of the Ultimate Demise sat the the ships captain, the root of the corruption that had consumed the ship: Ignacio Pharrem. The sickly yellow light of the cavernous bridge cast his eyes in shadow, hiding the madness, depravity and warped intelligence that rested within Ignacio's gaunt, skeletal frame. The room was covered in a moving carpet of slime, and upon it a parade of long-legged and bloated insects approached the twisted command throne Ignacio sat on. The servants of the Maggot Lord crawled up his still body, worming and digging their way into his flesh in an unending procession of desecration and filth. All the while, the massive glowing heart of the ship beat behind the command throne, pushing ichor and puss into the man's veins.

A fleshy mass began to grow from the floor. After a moment the tumor grew limbs and antlers, and stood like a parody of a bloated human corpse. A grin split its fat face from ear to disgusting ear, revealing a mouth full of tombstones etched with the names of those the Greater Demon of Nurgle had consumed. "Ignacio, you are truly one with Grandfather Nugle," he said as he rested a warty claw on Ignacios thin shoulder. "I could not be more proud of you."

Ignacio Pharrem could only manage a small, unintelligible mumble in response.

The demon's face took on a look of genuine concern, and he lowered his horrendous face till it was level with Ignacio. "You okay son? You need to speak louder so I can hear you."

Ignacio slowly raised his head, but the shadows that hid his eyes from view remained. "Remember why I do this. Remember our contract," was all the man could say before he was consumed by a coughing fit, spraying blood and maggots across the floor with every spasm.

The demons hand squeezed Ignacio's shoulder reassuringly and with surprising gentleness. "I do. A hundred worlds in exchange for one life." The Demon removed his hand and began to sink back into the floor. "From one father to another, I promise that you will see your beloved daughter again. Now rest; the preparations are almost complete, and you will need your strength for what comes next."

As the Demon's voice and body drifted away, Ignacio slumped back into his throne. He had sacrificed so many lives to reach this point, and he could finally see the end of this long and perilous road. As he drifted off to unconsciousness he whispered, "Soon Maria. Soon I'll hold you in my arms, and everything will be back to how it was."

A special thanks to Candor for giving me ideas and inspiring me to write this piece. I hope you guys like it, and feel free to write reviews or offer ideas for the next installment in the Community Story Discussion Page: viewtopic.php?f=3&t=514&start=70&hilit=Discussion+Page
Last edited by Owl on 24 April 2016, 20:45, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby BrianDavion » 24 April 2016, 20:12

a lot of games have their own forum for fan art, be it stories or artwork, we should ask the devs to create a subforum for this. might encourage more of it

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Owl » 24 April 2016, 20:41

BrianDavion wrote:a lot of games have their own forum for fan art, be it stories or artwork, we should ask the devs to create a subforum for this. might encourage more of it

Thats not a bad idea. I hope they won't mind if ask :?

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