40k Writefaggotry:Testing skills of Veeky Forums

(So you don't want good fluff? Ok Age of Girlyman here we go)

A few weeks ago in a LCB thread I decided to post a 40K/Quake crossover, but nobody bumped when I stopped to sleep. I made some edits but now is 5400 words and still unfinished the first chapter. Can I post it here?

sure

OK, then.

.......

>Once upon a time, there was a Queen who was loved by her people. Her kingdom was large and vast, and was the closest thing, no, it was heaven on earth. Songs were made on her honor; the lyrics used her message of unity and love; and her soldiers, who loved her like their own mother, they were the bringers of that message to the other kingdoms. It was said that every time she went to war, it was to free the people of the tyrants who dominated them and once the war was over, her new subjects were grateful for her protection and they too joined her army to help her liberate the rest.

>But then, a man arose from one of the invaded kingdoms. Before then, he was only a grunt for the fools who would never accept the Queen’s grace, but then her soldiers came and they put the tyrants to the sword. The grunt escaped to a corner and saw his former allies turning to the light of the queen, but in his ignorance he saw his comrades betraying their wishes and ideals. His mind could not understand why they would follow her wish for a better world and thus he fell to grief. Sadly, his sorrow soon would turn in wrath, a wrath that would destroy the kingdom.

>He began his foul quest by killing his former compatriots, ignoring their pleas of mercy as he put them at the axe, then he went to the soldiers who freed his home from the old tyrants. They tried to make him see reason, but he did not care, his only wish was their destruction. He murdered one of the Sons of the Queen for being the direct leader of the liberation of the Grunt’s home realm, but at his deathbed, the son showed him the full extent of the utopia the kingdom was building. Unfortunately, to the murderer what he saw it was complete anathema to what he was.

>The Queen searched for peace, the Grunt desired war; she wanted to create kinship, he was seeking for loneliness; she wished to create a new place to her subjects, he instead wished to destroy everything she built; she brought happiness to her realm, when he brought wrath to the survivors of his rampages; she was the mother of her people, the one who brought new life to them and let them rejoice for it; he was the one who brought death to those who crossed his way and those who did not, and let them inert in the silence of their abrupt ends.

>As he went closer to the refuge of the Queen, her soldiers became desperate, and who could blame them? He murdered their brothers and sisters, he destroyed their homes and he corrupted the gifts of the Queen to his own gains. Their only hope was that she was using her own abilities to weaken the resolve of the Grunt, but it was not enough. At the end, the soldiers arrived too late and saw their Monarch being destroyed from the insides by their enemy. Then to rub his insult, he declared himself as the new King of the realm, reclaiming what was left of the powers of his victim to himself.

>The Sons of the Queen would not accept such sacrilege at her legacy goes unpunished, but they were unable to unite in a great force by their disagreements on who would lead the survivors. Their bickering proved fatal and the Usurper took them out one by one, making sure that everything of them was destroyed. Their forces, their ideals and their own homes, all of it, were gone to never rise again. The Usurper was not satisfied he saw other realms who wanted to take the torch left by the Queen. So he left, to make sure that the ideals that destroyed his old life would never bloom again.

-From heretical writings of the Cult of the Young Goats, purged on 873. M40

"Hello?"

>Do they want another battle?

"Hellooooo."

>Of course they do. 'Above good and evil' my ass.

"Mister, wake up!"

>You are dead. Damn you Blazkowicz.

"This is not a place to be sleeping"

>Wait....there is a child here? You pieces o-

"I am sorry mister. Ripper, wake him up."

>-spit on your temples an- hey! Get off!"

It did the trick; the small animal called ripper went quickly to its owner, who grabbed it between her arms to protect it from the waking adult who was touching his licked cheeck. He looked like a guardsman from the propaganda films with the main difference that his brown with yellow helmet protected everything but the face, his yellow chest armor with two brown pauldrons had cuts everywhere, his red pants also had the wear of time and the boots looked burned.

"Mister...are you okay?" She asked with an odd worry he have not heard for a long time.

The (apparent) soldier looked at her with a mix of warning and confusion. She was wearing a white wool cap, a black coat, black pants and brown boots; all of it getting dirtier by the minute. Her face was of a inhuman white, yet there was something human on it. He looked at the...thing she was hugging; it was a maggot-like being with white skin in its front and purple in the scales on its back, its eyes were a bit too big for the size of this animal but the teeth proved it was not a good idea piss it off.

"I am sorry; I just wanted to know if you were fine."

He composed himself and decided to try to diplomacy for once.

"Where the hell I am?"

"Deva Secundus, the main Hive city to be precise." Something was not right.

"It is the name of the planet?"

"Yes...?"

"It run by itself or it belongs to someone else?"

"You never heard of the Imperium of Man?"

"...I am not from here." He said. "Do you ever hear of a planet named Earth?"

"No, never mister."

"At last what year it is?"

"Mommy and Daddy never agree on that. Mom's have more millennia."

"We split up. Bad men found us again. I am waiting for them."

"Here? This does not look a place where I would hide my daughter..." He spaced, ancient memories coming ba-

"Mister?!"

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"I can lead you where I live."

"And your parents?"

"They are strong. Not even the Space Marine can stop them."

"Space Marines..." Well, those are words he is familiar with. Semper Fidelis and all that... "Can you lead me there? Just until I can focus myself."

"Sure." So they went to the hideout. Lofn was cheerful that she found another possible friend, but Ranger was not relaxed.

>These Gods have no spoke yet. Why they would put me in a different place? This kid...she have something calm around her...I don't like it. No one sane or smart would let something like me inside their home...home...where is ho-

"We are here!" Lofn broke Ranger's line of thought. "Sorry if it's not much, I am not supposed to bring other people here."

"Then why did you bring me here?" He asked.

"Because it not nice leaving others alone."

"..." She seemed naive at least. "That thinking can lead you to trouble." Then they went inside, protected of this hellish mockery of urbanism.

..................

"HEAR ME, YOU WHO CLAIM BE THE MOST FAITHFUL OF THE EMPEROR'S WILL!" A priest with red robes and a red party mask was rallying the flock of men and women behind him.

"HE ON TERRA TRUSTED US TO KEEP HIS WORLDS SAFE FROM THE FOULS OF THE GALAXY AND WE FAILED!" The flock was devastated.

"Look around you. This once beautiful city became the den of mutants, heretics and even witches! I raised these concerns to our Governor and HE IGNORED THEM!" Multiple booing was heard in the public.

"I asked the Arbiters, the PDF and even the once great Eccleasiarchy, but I was just laughed out too of their rich homes, build by the sweat and blood of our antecessors, enjoying its pleasures while we are here; naked, bad-feed, suffering every day for our lives and the lives of our families!" The mob was getting angrier by the second; they too knew the pain of not being heard by those who claimed have the power of the God-Emperor.

"I fell into despair, lost from the part of light for many days, until discovered THIS!" The priest putted out of his robes a large book; it said 'The Ludmillan Dictates' in pure High Gothic, the divine tongue from Terra itself. "This holy text has shown me that WE are the reason the Imperium it running such harsh times, it is our own sinfulness that it may doom mankind itself, BUT..." He paused, the faithful were attentive. "...WE can fix it; WE can purify this once great city, WE can earn our REDEMPTION!" The zeal present will be recorded in the annals of history according to the priest, but first...

"Now before me there is this refuge of heresy and evil, we shall cull a path of purity in this cesspool and once we are done here, we shall burn the fifth of our planet leadership! Now...WHO IS WITH ME?" Great shouts full of faith lighted the incoming night, the night where the main hive will be cleansed of sin. The priest smiled; soon all of Deva Secundus would know the Truth of Redemption.

..........

"Inquisitor!"

"What it is agent?

"We picked up something grave!"

"Did you find the fugitives?"

"Negative, but there is a mob of cultists."

"GIVE ME THAT" "..." " Redemptionists? These maniacs will burn most of the hive."

"Shall we stop them"

"No. In fact, those madmen will force our targets to the open and when everyone else is distracted with the rejects from Necromunda, we shall dispense Justice once for all for the sins of Kronus!"

"But what happens if the Governor or the Or-"

"I will deal with them personally, besides we both know what will happen if our Lord hear of this."

"Of course sir."

"Good. Now get ready! Let's hope the enemy has thrown out a nasty surprise for us.
"My Lord?"

"What is it?"

"Shouldn't you have say 'Let's hope the enemy hasn't thrown out a nasty surprise for us'?"

"Just let finish this goose chase, shall we?"

............

Ranger was sitting in the worn out couch in the emontioless gray living and managed to understand a few things. One, that this 'Hive City' covered like a quarter of all Deva Secundus; two, it seemed Lofn was the source of the strange calm aura he felt right now, which became stronger when he got closer to her, he was suspecting that the maggot-like animal would be something a lot worse without it; and three, the local television sucks.

He could not understand any word of what they were saying, which made the work of getting the antenna in the right place almost fruitless; if he had to guess, they were speaking in a messed up version of latin mixed with alien tongues from all the galaxy. This would not be so bad if the few channels that still worked weren’t full of propaganda.

The two headed eagle was a constant in the images and depending of the channel was either farmers cultivating the land, workers assembling machines in factories or hordes of soldiers fighting against hordes of green skinned brutes and/or cultists of all kinds; every single one had a golden warrior either overseeing the works or joining the battle, especially if the enemy were the cultists. All of it was adorned with organ music, orchestras and lots of skulls.

"Blazkowicz would hate living here." Ranger concluded as he was keep looking for something decent in the screen, until he hears the girl getting closer.

"Mister, don't you like the TV? She asked.

"There is only trash here." He sighed in defeat.

"Well...Ripper is feeling hungry, so I wanted to ask if you were hungry as well."

"I am not hungry." A roar came from his gut. "Fine, I am hungry."

"Okay. Wait here when I get something done."

"Do you know how to cook?"

"Why not? Dad likes it." And she went to the kitchen. Ranger hoped it would taste better than ancients delicacies like 'Shambler's guts', 'Sarnathian Death Knights' or 'Sorg legs'.

.......

For a child, the cooked grox did not taste so bad. Lofn was happy with her own food, the ripper was eager in devouring ever the bones and Ranger tasted the meat for any trace of eldritch magic in it. So far there was none.

Ranger looked at the walls of the kitchen, they were adorned with mostly drawings that was either Lofn with her ripper, Lofn playing with others animals like ripper or Lofn with two adults who had their hands together.

"Those two adults are your parents?"

"Yes!" She went to grab one of the drawings at put in the table. "She is my mother, Taldeer," She pointed to a tall looking woman with a black and white. "And this is my dad, Liivi." She pointed to slightly smaller man with black clothes.

"What kind of name is 'Liivi'?"

"What kind of name is 'Ranger'?

"...Touché."

Then feeling in a better mood thanks to the food (and perhaps being too much time inside the aura), Ranger went back to the living and against all common sense, he tried again to find something decent on the screen.

"C'mon, you can't show the same thing all day lon-ha! Football" Indeed, this time there was sports instead of propaganda.

"It is Rugby." Lofn corrected him.

"Close enough." And so he began to watch. He still could not understand what they were saying, but at least he understood what they were doing. He watched as the attackers were close enough to gain the last points to obtain victory.

And then the signal was shut down.

"MOTHERFU-"

"Hey! Watch your language!"

If it wasn't for Lofn's 'hippie' aura, Ranger would probably trash the television with kicks and punch without discrimination. Instead he gave some upset slaps to its sides.

"Unless you are a techpriest, I don't think hitting the poor thing will work, mister."

"Techwhat?" Ranger paused and realized the foolishness of his reactions. "It was the first normal thing I saw since I woke up in thi-" Then the screen went white, only to a red hood appear in the screen. Hundred voices shouted a chant.

"The hell it is speaking?"

"It's a hymn to the God-Emperor."

"So more propa-" Lofn hushed as the screen resumed.

"Habitants of Deva Secunds, tonight all of you shall hear the truth. The truth is that our leaders has failed us faithful and failed the Emperor himself!"

"That does not sound like typical propaganda." Ranger commented as Lofn was traducing what the voice was saying.

"They had the duty to keep the purity of the holy human form in both mind and body, but instead we have to deal with fifth" The TV bangen to list a series of images in coordination with the speech. "Gangers! Mutants! Heretics! Witches! And even Xenos!" Images of criminals, freaks, cultists, madmen and someone who looked the kid's mother were shown in it.

"We have seen how deep the corruption plagues this planet and we said ENOUGH! Tonight we, the Cult of Redemption, shall start our crusade to free Deva Secundus of this heresy! Anyone who wants to join our just cause shal bel welcome as brothers and sisters, but those who tries to resist the Truth of Redemption will be punished for heresy like the rest of the scum tonight! Good night and let the Emperor open your eyes!" And then the screen died. Nothing was heard except for a increasing dread in the air.

"That last photo....that was my mother's people...." Lofn muttered, while the ripper got close to her. Ranger went quickly to the kitchen and watched the draw of Lofn's parents.

The mother had pointy ears.

"Weapons." He said.

"What?"

"There are any weapons in this house?"

"What are you saying?!"

"I am going to kill those bastards cultists."

"What!?"

"Where. Are. The. Weapons?" Lofn noticed a darkness growing in Ranger's face and she pointed to a door next the kitchen.

"There is mostly trash there." Then Ranger grabbed a fire axe, passing his gloved fingers to test its sharpness.

"I assume they will have guns." He thought in low voice. "Until then, it's enough"

"Are you just leaving?!" She asked indignant at the soldier. "Just to kill them like a sadist monster?!" Then Ranger stopped, and Lofn could feel his darkness withdrawing.

"If you don't want the monsters to hunt you," He said in a low voice. "You must hunt them first." He grabbed a worn out photo from his armor. "Even if you become one of them in the process." He looked at it and he closed his eyes as he returned it to his armor.

"Do not open this door unless it's your parents or me. Am I clear?" She nodded, grabbing her ripper tighter in her arms. The animal was also looking worried at him.

"Be safe." She plead, he nodded and stepped outside, back to the hive.

...........

"Inquisitor. The redemptionists began to move to the middle hive."

"That was the last section where we found the fugitives."

"I hate to question your judgment, but are you still willing to let these citizens suffer to catch our targets?"

"Compared to the lives saved if we take down a rogue assassin, a xeno witch and that...thing, it's bloody pitiful."

"I apologi-"

"You should know already I saved you because you know the concept of sacrifice for the glory of the Imperium, something most of your once comrades failed to understand."

"..."

"Keep looking at these traitors. I shall order the police to clean up once everything is said and done. I don't any surprises to happen this night."

"Understood my lord. His will be done."

...........

As Ranger walked in the streets, it became more obvious that the rest of the habitants were either hiding inside or preparing red robes to join these maniacs in a faint hope for protection.

He did not care for the latter for now, he needed to find those already converted and seek for hints for their leader. If things ended right, offing the head would stop the rabble for now.

He saw light from a weak flame, then chants, and then weapons being armed.

He went inside a trash container at looked the mob of fanatics arriving. They had red robes everywhere, some of them were wearing party mask, also of color red. The leader of the mob was using a torch in one hand and a machine gun in the other one. The rest were using either knifes, pistols or the occasional pitchfork. Ranger counted them between fifteen and twenty lunatics.

One of them was behind the mob and once they turned to their right corner, he returned to a wall began to take a piss on it.

"So much for redemption." Said Ranger as he left the container and went closer to the idiot, axe in hand. The 'fanatic' was just zipping up his pants when he felt something behind him.

"Huh?" Thankfully for him the axe was quick and painless. Ranger was glad that idiot did not scream, but he regretted not killing in a more painful way when he checked the pistol only half clip. Eight bullets weren't enough to off this particular mob.

"Hopefully the machine gun has more." He said as he walked forwards the mob. It looked like they stopped because the one with the pitchfork was asking something to their leader and by looking at the latter's face, it was something stupid.

Everyone was looking at the heated dispute, so Ranger took aim at the leader's head.

>Steady....steady....now!

The leader's head splattered in all his followers. Ranger hoped this would make them run like rats, where then he would grab the machine gun and off these madmen one by one.

Instead they turned at him and fired with all they got.

For being mere bullets, they packed a lot of strength and it would not for too long until they destroyed the corner Ranger was using for cover. He needed a distraction.

His left hand began to form a ball of purple energy until it was the size of the palm and shoot electricity out of it. The Dire Orb, his war trophy against the Elder Gods.

He noticed the mob running out of ammo and they were reloading, so he looked two hostiles too far of the rest, hiding in the next corner. Ranger shoots the orb the pair; get off the cover and spends the last seven bullets in the rest. Those who still lived opened fire at him, but before any bullet touched him, Ranger disappeared in a blue energy mist, only to reappear between the two lone cultists, burning them to death with the energy around him.

"WITCH!" They screamed in horror and hate, and somehow Ranger understood every single letter.

>No matter, they are going to die anyways.

Ranger grabbed the pistol and took aim to the other bastards, unloading the bullets until there was none and the mob only had five of them still living. He felt cocky and jumped at them axe in hand when they run out ammo again. He struck in the first bastard when before he could exit the empty clip, then he cut the arms of his ally in his right; from behind the cultist with the pitchfork stroke, but the armor made it useless, so Ranger went to the foot, grabbed the pitchfork, shove it in the stomach and throw the poor man to his companions.

They got up quickly, having finished putting a new clip in their pistols when Ranger had just recovered the axe; they fired at him with all the zeal and fury they had, hitting the armor and knocking him down. They looked surprised at their victory, they reloaded and went closer to the witch's corpse, only to Ranger grab their necks, each one with one hand; he made them head-butt each other, grabbed their pistols and unleash the whole package on them.

"..." Ranger took a breath after no feeling any life outside left. He went to the machine gun and searched for its former owner's body if it had enough magazines. It had enough to take down a few other mobs. He took a breath before following the closest chants.

>One herd down. Dozens left.

.......

"Inquisitor!"

"Did you find them?!"

"Something worse."

"If this is a joke I swear-" "..." "...!" "Did he teleport with a Doombolt?!"

"My lord..."

"This is grave news. Still, our duty remains."

"But-"

"FIND THE TRAITOR AND THE WITCH! If we are lucky, the redemptionists will take this frakking psyker with them."

"But if he survives?"

"..."

"My lord?"

"Then Deva Secundus may be forced to face a worse threat that the evil we are hunting."

........

The once priest; now Redeemer was busy dispensing atonement to the unfortunate souls he captured now.

"YOU KILLED MY SONS YOU BASTARD!" A man tied to a pyre shouted in anguish before his impending judgment.

"It is your fault to not lead them to the right path as all fathers should do. Only you are guilty to not stop their ganger ways. I shall pray the Emperor that he forgives all of you for your sins in life."

"HE WOULD NOT APRROVE THIS!"

"WRONG! HE DOES NOT APROVE HOW WE LEAD OUR WORLD STRAY, HOW WE CONSUMED OURSELVES IN SIN!" The Redeemer shouted in defiance. "Now...the only way to mend it, to earn our redemption, it’s to burn it all and START ANEW!" He threw the torch to the pyre, burning the poor souls trapped in it and began to pray that the flames cleansed them of their heresy.

"Lord Redeemer! Lord Redeemer!" A man who saw the Truth ran to his master, panicked and wounded.

"What in Holy Terra happened?!"

"My lord, we were attacked by a witch!"

"WHAT?!"

"I swear for Sanguinus it's true!" Upon hearing this, the leader commanded a medic to help this poor faithful. "He looked like a soldier from the PDF...no, the Imperial Guard. He attacked us with stub weapons, an axe and his foul sorcery!"

"..." The leader thought for a moment, then he directed to another cultist preparing another pyre. "You! Gather all the faithful left! Tell them the Archenemy is here and we shall destroy him right here, right now!" The man went quickly as the Redeemer began to shout to the heavens.

"I CHALLENGE YOU, FIFHTY SORCERER! I AND MY FLOCK ARE NOT SCARED OF YOU! TONIGHT WE SHALL PROVE HOW BLESSED OUR CRUSADE IS! AND WE SHALL SLAY YOU, CLEANSING YOU IN THE FLAMES OF REDEMPTION!"

Ranger was already near them, above a ceiling, wanting for the rest of the scum to get together, to then destroy them together.

“Twenty years and I am finally out. I’m not letting you ruin it now.”

……….

It has been more of ten millennia since the gods where lost for the folly of their own children, too blind in their own glory and hubris until it was too late. Yet, despite no longer receiving an answer, those children who still lived would seek comfort praying them; perhaps they were lying themselves to cling hope until something more tangible could appears.

Lofn prayed for the third time for the safety of her parents, she knew they are strong, but sometimes that was not enough. In fact, it was Dad who saved Mom of a certain death caused by her own hubris. She hoped that somehow Isha, Cegorach or even Khaine was doing something to save them.

She was also worried about this human stranger she found; mother forbade her to gaze into the minds to other people, but curiosity won over her and what she (lightly) saw filled her with dread. His mind was nothing but a convoluted mass of unfocused thoughts, memories without sense and a deep hatred in constant battle for supremacy. Only when he made up his decision to hunt down the redemptionists his mind went clear as the ocean. She suspected he may be one of those souls who were not strong enough to resist the voices of the Warp and if her assumption was correct…

She hopes her parents arrive before he or the cultists does. Ripper was sharing these worries and could not sleep well, so she hugs it warmly and it snuggles in her neck.

“Don’t worry, Mom and Dad will be back. They always do.”

……….

“….and as our Lord made it clear when He walked among us, that our body is the mirror of our soul; and those whose body is impure, it shows the rotting evil of their existence and I SHALL GRANT THEM THE CURE!” The Redeemer gave his sermon, finishing it with burning another group of unlucky mutants who were not killed by the mob who found them. “This Hive has suffered the mutant, the heretic and even the xenos to live, their festering allowed by the scum of the Upper Hive because of ‘cheap factory workers’, ignoring us who would gladly accept those positions for the glory of the Imperium!”

“Xenos? Here?!”

“INDEED! An affront of to all human life lies hidden, sapping the wills of the faithful into simple apathy! Now we mus-” The rant was interrupted by an explosion with scores of dying screams.

“He’s here!” One of the cultists shouted; everyone already knew who they meant.

“EVERYONE GATHER IN YOUR PLACES! WE WILL TEACH THIS PSYKER THE MIGHT OF OUR CAUSE!” The Redeemer shout orders to his men while he was standing in the center of a lifeless square, where each corner laid a great statue of armored warriors who saved Deva Secundus in the past and even their fearsome bare gaze could put fear on the Emperor’s enemies.

The hordes of faithful and roadblocks that covered every entry up to four blocks were for if that was not enough.

At the fifth square, Ranger was crouching in the recently blown up car. Some nutjob failed the basics of rocket launching, getting him and his fellow madmen killed. Shame, Ranger wanted that weapon; instead he had to conform himself with a machine gun with a few magazines, a pistol with some clips and the fire axe that was beginning to dent its edge; he was not sure if that would be enough to eliminate those assholes.

And he was only considering those in front of him.

At least those guns do pack a punch.

“In that case I will steal what they leave behind” It scared him in the past how his mind would get crystal clear in a life-or-death situation, but now it was only way he could think clearly at all. Two decades trapped in the realms of the Gods turned him from a dutiful soldier head to a monster that needed to fight in order to have a sense of mind.

That did not change the fact these cultists needed to die; it did no matter which God they followed, their sanity would be destroyed either the powers from beyond or their own zeal; and these men were really zealous, if the torched blocks behind were anything to show.

They were shouting threats, taunts, orders or prayers; Ranger instead pulled a photo from his armor; it was crumped, losing its color and it showed a soldier hugging his wife and his daughter.

“Hang in there. It will be over soon.” Ranger said to them; he hid the photo in a secret place of his boot, safe of any harm. He heard a molotov being thrown above him, followed for what it seemed shouts of disapproval; Ranger grabbed his machinegun, gave a monstrous snarl from the deepest hole of his body and charged at the next block, shooting two idiots who were out of cover.

Bumping for story unfolding.

The twentysomething redemptionists at the fourth block let their fury drive them to get closer, firing badly at the humanoid monster that was killing his fellows despite its face showing nothing but hatred. They put out their knives, but the heretic kept shooting with the machinegun until he run out of bullets, switching to a pistol to keep firing.

“Look at him! A true believer would never reject a chance of glorious me-” The taunt was shot down by a bullet in the head, scaring stiff at the few cultists left to then finish them off with the pistol.

“One block less.” Ranger muttered as he reloaded both guns. He observed the hostiles in the third block screaming curses at him and setting up a mounted gun above a pile of trashed cars in the center of the streets. He snarled again and charged at them, firing at the ones mounting the great weapon.

“Be cleansed, monster!” The leader shouted and behind the pile dozens of cocktail bombs was thrown at Ranger, who barely backed away before the flames hit it; only to receive fire from the mounting gun that would quartered him if he had not shoot the Dire Orb behind him and teleported him behind some burning tires

Mad laughter came from the redemptionists as they gave supporting fire; Ranger had to stick in the floor until he could regain enough energy for the orb, having the bullets skim his boots. He noticed a silhouette among the fire, a bird looking at him, mockingly.

Without thinking twice Ranger shoots the orb to the bird, but passed through it. Ranger teleported to destroy it from the inside, but instead it was one of the humans who got telefragged. A demonic laugh was the last thing was heard from it.

>What I will poost next is writen right now.

OP here:
Friend could you keep this up once I fall sleep, I will write the start to my promised tale of hereteks, orks and feudal worlders tomorrow in the morning.

I'm sick, but I'll try to stay awake a little longer then.

Better get some rest user

Yeah, go rest, we can always make another thread in the morning, but you only got one life.

Please post your fancition elsewhere

(Could I kindly ask to not mind this? After all this is one of the things that made old Veeky Forums good)

Please post your anime garbage elsewhere.

I thank you all for bumping in my stead.

More pressing matters were present; the redemptionists charged at him, so Ranger shoot at them until the last one went behind and tried to choke him. Ranger aimed his back to the nearest wall and charged to it, hitting the madman over and over again until his grip fell, then Ranger hit him with the butt of his machinegun one, two, three, four, five…

“No, no, no, you SHOOT with it!” He reminded himself and finished the poor soul properly. He went to the mounted gun to see if it still had ammo left.

It had a lot still. It made a nice bandolier.

Grinning at the sight, Ranger dismounted the gun, put the bandolier above his shoulder and began to run to the second block.

The cultists there were starting to getting worried, watching that monster tearing apart their fellows. Yet their Firebrand reminded them that this is the reason the Truth of Redemption was needed, to stop these monster to taint the might of the Imperium. And so, with mere words he drove those men to charge the enemy, trusting fully in the Emperor’s Light would grant them strength to purge the filth from Deva Secundus.

Ranger’s gun turned them into human strainer, making the third block easier at the cost of all the ammo of the mounted gun. He enjoys looking at the cultists left losing their will to live.

“This monster is unstoppable!”

“Why our bullets can’t hit him?!”

“The Emperor has abban-” One shot shut the heresy down for good.

“Men of little faith.” The Redeemer arrived, his gun still hot. “It is normal that we find a stepping stone that refuses to move apart.” Then he pulled out from his robes some larges bottle filled with a strange liquid. “This sacred elixir not only will clear you from doubts, but also it will make you immune to the foulest pain. So goes first?”

>Need to stop now. Reviews are welcome.

I'm not a good critic at all, but I can say that this is an enjoyable read, which is a rare thing to find here those days. You made some errors while writing here and there, but it doesn't matter. Good job so far !

While i disagree i will not mind it because it was asked nicely.

Where do you think you are?

Oh then sorry, I probably misinterpret that idea, next time I will use different response, thank for civil reaction, it is nice thing to see around here.

And last bump from me. See ya later, writefags.

I hope you get better user :)

i have the same problem as this guy,but i think i will take this user advice and try to write something later tonight

Once upon a time there was this big fat fag called the God Emperor of Mankind. They called him that because he loved dicks so much. One day he got bored and decided to use nonsense, I mean science, to make an incestuous harem of hot boytoys. He did so, but got wasted on Fuzzy Navel wine coolers and crashed his space Cadillac on his way between the pervert science lab and the uncle emperor's touchy funtime sex dungeon. His infant harem was scattered to the four winds of space (space is very windy) and ended up on a bunch of planets instead of just crashing into a star or something.

There, his "Children" did lots of stuff like leading rebellions and fucking wolves and being cunts until he managed to track them all down, probably following his cock like a divining rod. He got the gang back together and went on a hell of a bender, shooting aliens and minorities until one of the Boipussy posse got butthurt about something retarded or maybe corrupted by aliens or something.

A bunch of the harem joined with that guy and fought Daddy and the kids he liked more because they hadn't let themselves go and got all chaos filled and shit. And One of them, who was named after a bird god because he also shat down his legs on regular intervals, stabbed Mr. Thinly veiled jesus and then got shanked in prison or died of aids. Not really sure.

Now The emperor just sits on his toilet all day, screaming into space so loud that magical space bats can echolocate with it. Also everyone has really high tech shit but no idea how it works and there's a group of tech worshipers on mars who converted their assholes to usb ports. And there's a dragon there too, probably.

...

Nice dudes you got there m8. Care if I post mine?

Please do.
Dudes are always nice to read about.

The Redemptus Founding is a result of the part of the Primaris Space Marine project left unused during the Ultima Founding. They are hidden from the eyes of those they protect, a host of righteous kinslayers sworn to purge the universe from the sins of their fathers.

According to Warmaster Guilliman's orders, thousands of battle-brothers descended from the renegade Primarchs should have remained in stasis vaults of the Adeptus Mechanicus, but by personal initiative of the project's overseer Archmagos Cawl, and with permission from Fabricator General of Mars himself, they were set free from centuries of sleep and formed into fascimiles of their respective Legions as they were before they fell to Chaos.

Each of these newly founded Legions retained all its former traditions, structure and heraldry, and Legion Masters were put in charge, like it was during the Great Crusade, when these revered lords of the Space Marines held command before the Legions' reunion with their fathers. Of course, some adjustments were made - namely, Librarians and Chaplains were introduced into those that did not have them at the Horus Heresy's outbreak, along with newer, post-Heresy types of squads. To maintain secrecy, these Legions' fleets kept Adeptus Mechanicus heraldry and nominal allegiance.

The Fourth Legion, Iron Warriors, were the first by number and third in order to be restored, following the Thousand Sons and Sons of Horus (who switched back to their old name and heraldry of Luna Wolves). Five full Grand Battallions of Primaris Astartes clad in ark steel power armour with black-and-yellow chevrons and rearmed with cutting-edge weaponry straight out of Martian forges recieved the capital ship Stronghold of Steel and three battle barges - Iron Redemption, Forgewrath and Exterminator - as their new fleet.

Welp, might as well bump this thread with my own guys!

After the war in heaven, the Zivotot dynasty were some of the first necrons to ever awaken. Their tomb world was barren
of life, much like most other tomb worlds were once the great sleep had begun. Golemiot mislitel, overlord of the tomb world
as well as his crypteks soon realised that most of their people had been destroyed during their sleeps. Little remained of
their once great empire and they needed more troops to act on the final prime directive of the silent king: To take over
the galaxy once again and find the perfect hosts for the necrons to be alive again.

The first order of Golemiot was to use their technology to find a c'tan shard which would be massively useful in their
endeavours. It did not take long (merely a couple hundred years) to find a c'tan shard. It was retrieved with ease by
sending their only monolith to the planet were the forces of Golemiot could then easily overpower the shard and put it
inside a newer tessaract labyrinth.
Once inspected However, It appeared that the c'tan shard had gone transcendantal after already having fused with other
shards.
The shard was named carska'sila, the boundless one. His name came due to the nature of the c'tan which seemingly manifested
an infinite amount of energy.

Upon this discovery, Golemiot ordered the destruction of the Necrodermis of The boundless one as well as the syncing of
his presence with that of the biggest weapons they had on hand. This caused an immense wave of energy which was succesfully
used to great effect to some of the most powerful weapons the dynasty had.

They still needed troops however. In a fit of silent dreaming, The overlord saw visions of The boundless one giving him
ancient secrets and ideas to improve the flesh of weaker species and use them to pad his army. The overlord listened.
They began growing the atmosphere of their tomb world using their impeccable technology. In no time at all the planet once
empty of all life was now beaming with plants and animals. Warriors began chopping trees, digging the ground and gather
other resources in order to create incredibly lowly weapons compared to Necron standarts.

Then, they sent voidships around the galaxies to find the most endless and useful resource there was: Humanoids.
They brought them back on the Tomb world and implanted them into the Ecology of the planet. Then began their plans to turn
them to the Overlord. Some of the people began hearing whispers of the Boundless one in their sleep, they were the first.

The overlord ordered the creation of green bubbling pits of chitin, metal and elements long forgotten. They were dunked
into this pool of biological and mechanical liquid. Days later from the pool came what the Necrons once called Pariahs.
Men of iron who had been mentally broken by the Boundless one and physiclly remodeled by the techno-pools. They were
painted red so that every other Necron knew they were not their brethren and thus began "The crusade of evolution" spearheaded
by the Overlord of all living things, golemiot mislitel and Carska'sila, the Boundless one.

After the Fall of Cadia and a massive Chaos incursion that followed, the corrupted Space Marines started overrunning Imperial worlds and erecting their blasphemous bastions all over the Dark Imperium. Some of those were strongholds of the Black Legion, a collection of the foulest traitors from across all the Chaos Legions. Others were Plague Keeps of Death Guard, rotten and decaying down to their basements. The most indomitable and mighty of all, however, were those built by inhabitants of Medrengard, and it was from there that Perturabo's hosts of Chaos Marines and mocking parodies of Imperial Guard regiments struck at the Emperor's domain, commanded by the infinitely foul and sacrelegal monstrosities whom once proud and wise Warsmiths have become. It is at the latter that theit re-emerged loyal brothers cast their gaze in righteous fury, eager to cleanse their Legion's name once and for all.

At the same time that Plague Marines of Death Guard invaded Konor, the Fourth's armada, supported by Thagmatae of the Machine Cult, appeared in orbit of the former arsenal world of Sigma-2-35, containing large quantities of Chem and Rad weaponry, sealed away in its storages since the Heresy, now taken by warriors sworn to Honsou and turned into a Chaotic Fortress. Making good use of many astropathic links being severed in the cataclysm and the Inquisition, as well as other, "official" Chapters, being unable to so much as discover their existence, the five Warsmiths commenced the assault.

Waddya think guys? Should I post some minis?

Bump for the Bump God.

Of course.
I'm enjoying it.

posts for the post throne.

Morning call of the OP

I guess I can try something. Don't expect much, I'm phone posting.

The harsh clacking of his metal feet on the stone floor reverberated through the cave. He was the last of his ranger squad, fitting seeing as the Alpha lives on. What was left of his group of Skitarii stayed behind to cave in the heretic strong-hold within the cave system, leaving him to retreat to the nearest frendly forces.
The Alpha kept his arc pistol pointed forwards as he ran, the glow from the generator lighting his way. Eventually the alpha found the exit to the cave, the light nearly blinding him. Swiftly he found cover in the forest surrounding the mouth, pressing his back to a old tree. The Alpha peaked out of his cover, seeing nothing of note he moved forwards. This continued until he heard voices. The high gothic was unmistakable, friendly though not mechanicus.
The Alpha slowly made himself visible while stepping into the clearing. almost immediately a score of bolters were turned to him. Battle sisters, warriors of the ecclesiarchy, shouted warning to him to identify himself.

More later.

(OP here: Good luck with that, and time for me to start as well)

Sun was now rising from the horizont as the tinkerer worked away in his little hut. Many names have been given to this one - horror of metal and flesh, the life taker, the master of undead hordes, the lich, but most of them were not truth, as one name that best described him probably was the one given to him by the Adeptus Mechanics, to whom he used to belong - Heretek.

While not interested in chaos and it's great game, he did find pleasure in creation of new and reinvention of the old technologies...But for now all he did was trying to survive in this backwaters feudal world, after he got thrown down in a ship fight.

All he had now were his augmentations, few bits of technology he managed to save and his base, which looked more like a blacksmith's workshop then a proper lab.

But this didn't bother our heretek, as for now life was quite peaceful, with only interruption being the occasional local savage, coming to "Slay the lich", but like they say "You never have enough servitors"

But today was a bit different, for better of for worse (To be continued later)

Posted him here some threads ago.

...

...

(Was gonna upload a picture for a story, but both my scanner and my phone refuse to cooperate)

I like these threads, there was a series of them going on a few months ago, mostly about love and krieg spinoffs. I wonder if those authors are still around

Don't sink bros.

Well I started this one, and I was one of the writers in those (Reason I got into Veeky Forums actually)

So yeah and now I am on about heretek and his find if you all don't mind.

P.S. Art no related to the current story but might give someone ideas

so...anyone like my necrons? I could post what my c'tan looks like since the other minis arent very different than vanilla necrons.

>•••••••••••••••••••••••
The youth winces as the sharp point of the stick pierces his back, but he knows better than to flinch as the old woman brings it down again, biting into his neck over and over as flecks of blood well forth, beading and flowing. As they gather to form a stream, the work is obscured and needs to be wiped clean.

In this moment of respite, he speaks.
>"How will they see it?"
The old woman dips the stick back into the thick black ink beside her, pushes his head to the angle she requires, and continues.
>"They just do. They watch from the heavens."

The boy is held to silence again as the tap-tap-tap of the needle begins anew. The blood on his face feels sticky and he wants to rub it clean, but has been told it is important to leave the proof until he returns to camp.

"Proof". The proof of fourteen dead makes a coat of blood across his face and shoulders, cuts and bruises packed with peat to ward off sickness. His mother tried to set his nose, but it still hurts to breathe and feels numb on his face. The needle rests again.

>"Is that why it goes on top?"
He can hear a sigh of frustration as she wipes the blood free of his nape.
>"Yes. Be still."
They didn't like all the questions he asked. Maybe that was why they wanted to send him away If he had not been out exploring, they would never have known about the camp. All this death was his fault.
But, it could have been he and his friends, lying strangely in the mud.

They said he did good. They said he had helped protect the clan. He could have gotten the markings of manhood.
But instead...

>"What if they don't find me? What if they don't like me?"
She pulls him back into her lap.
>"Heroes don't return. If they take you, you shall either pass their test or die."
She laughs as he stiffens, holding his face in her hands.
>"Relax. You will not fail."
His mother begins on the scalp, his flinching now noticeable.
>"You're going to be a warden of the storm"

I started writing a Sisters of Battle story following a small Commandery trying to keep shit together on a recently reconquered planet. It's mostly character driven and not especially actiony until the end, where things will inevitably fall apart and they'll have to save the day. I figure there's an ancient evil but I'm not sure what yet.

Upload it here, either as posts or leave us a link friend, while I will try to get my machinces together and write some stuff of my own.

I would read some sister fiction (especially if they are not fucked by genestealers or killed by grey knights in it...)

This is pretty much a response to how shittily they're treated in everything and trying to show their importance beyond being the Worfs of the Imperium.

Once I have a few chapters polished up, I'll definitely get something posted.

Is High Proctor Kraellen still alive? If so, know that I'm still waiting for you to finish the enginseer-krieg story

Say guys should I continue this? Or better write about something else?

Well, I wrote this rather monolithic bit of writefaggotry when I was trying to fluff out my planned Necron Dynasty. As far as I know, nobody's managed to wade through the whole thing yet.

pastebin.com/0SSGQtR3

If anybody's got feedback that'd be greatly appreciated. Now to check out some of the things other anons have posted.

This is a 40k story yeah?

>pastebin.com/0SSGQtR3
>This page has been removed!

B-but I wanted to read it...

Well heck, I set that to expire in a week, and it was still there when I was going to post it... it must have JUST expired. Go figure. Lemme just... paste up a new one real quick...

Here we go, a fresh paste, and slightly updated to boot.
pastebin.com/4ZyPyk44

... it was meant to be

> A member of the Adeptus Mechanicus also among our congregation quite nearly had a nervous breakdown viewing them- perhaps his optics perceived something about the strange dimensions that my eyes could not?

“Now… KILLLLLLLLL” The Redeemer shouted and so they charged at Ranger, who was now regretting letting his wrath waste the bullets of the mounted gun. He took aim with his machine gun and realized that it took more bullets to put those madmen down, their sense of pain replaced by an eagerness for murder. He kept steady fire as he backed away of the horde, but it did no matter how many of them died; more zealots would come to replace them.

*click* *click*

“Shit.” The machinegun ran out of magazines just as he blew up part of the head of a stubborn hostile, who having lost half of his brain didn’t stop him as he tried to scratch him to death; but having the rest separated from his neck.

“I hate going in melee.” Ranger muttered as took out his pistol in his right hand and put his axe in the left one as he decided that he had to get in the thick of the mob. “This is the stupidest idea I had since I set foot in this place.”

“I WILL TEAR YOUR SINS APART!” The redemptionists loved seeing the human witch ignore his powers and go the fray like a man; he would have a more worthy death that he deserved. This zealot ecstasy made them ignore even more the lost limbs caused by the hacking and shooting at them. At most, it was their proof they were worthy sons of He on Terra until the end.

Ranger did not share their enthusiasm; the clips burned quicker than he hoped which forced him to use both hands on the axe and focusing in decapitate the loonies still alive. He hacked, cut, teared and dismembered the horde apart and it began to thin at last.

>“They went berserk because these are the last ones left.”

This realization gave Ranger enough strength to slay the dozens of madmen left. Even when they surrounded him and outnumbered him; nor their curses, neither their knives, not even their guns were capable to stop him. They were stubborn until the end; some of them tried to bite him even after the loss of their own limbs, but was not enough to stop the one human who can boast being the slayer of the Goat Mother of the Thousand Young.

As the last choke gave the end of the battle, Ranger touched his left hip and felt his blood coming out of a wound that broke through his armor; he struggled to not fall in the dantesque show of blood, gibs and body parts scattered in the street of the first block; he knew the leader was still wasting air.

The Redeemer was oddly calm, he kept looking the massacre with increasing contempt and when it became obvious his flock would fail to bring the witch down even on melee, he armed himself with a personal treasure from his days in the rotten Eccleasiarchy: the mighty Eviscerator, three meters of holy steel against the sinners of the galaxy.

“You may have destroyed my flock, but your wounds are proof their sacrifices were not in vain.” The Redeemer turned on his chain sword and aimed it at the foul psyker.

“What it is with you maniacs and the ‘Great Communicator’?” Ranger asked with his right hand stopping the bleeding and his left one holding the axe, not caring they could not understand each other beyond their desired to kill the other.

“This battle can end in two ways, and none of them will let your filthy life continue to plague this world!”

The Redeemer prepared to charge.

“Whatever death you have planned against me, it can’t be worse that the tortures the Gods made in my mind, body and soul!” Ranger readied himself to give one last trick.

“FOR THE EMPEROR!” The mad priest ran with all the zeal of his cult, screaming with the strength enough to shatter the concentration of the heretic, who then would not notice his judgment aiming for the head. It seemed working, because Ranger did not move as the might of the Redemption was a few steps to crunch his miserable existence.

“Just die ALREADY!” Ranger summoned the Dire Orb and shoots it between the Redeemer’s legs, teleporting just as the Eviscerator made a dent in his helmet; the zealot spent all his forces in that strike, watching in horror as his holy weapon only tore apart the floor. He failed to realize in time that Ranger was behind him. As the axe opened his throat to the air, his only regret was not acting before it was too late.

……..

“Inquisitor?”

“No traces of the rogue agent and the xeno, right?”

“And the Redemptionists are all dead.”

“…How is the state of the unknown witch?”

“Wounded, my lord. I do not think he may survive until dawn.”

“Hopefully any ganger still living will gets a sniper kill on him. I will send a replacement for you. Dissmissed.”

“Good night, my Lord.”

“Emperor be with you.”

“….”

“….”

“….”

“….”

“….so another madman of the Arenas arrived…”

…….

The emotions from the Warp changed from a twisted fight to a ravenous feeding, followed by eerie calm.

Lofn was not a fool, she knew that his parent killed the bad men every time they found them; she guessed that like those who fell to the whisper of the damned there was no hope to lead them to reason, but it seemed the bloodthirsty outnumbered those who would rather live and let others do the same.

And if waves were not lying, either the Cult of Redemption killed enough poor souls to satisfy their madness or Ranger killed all the cultists just as he promised.

A hard but tired knock went to the door; Lofn feared that it came from one of the surviving zealots.

“Annie, are you in home?” She knew that voice. Lofn opened the door, watching Ranger falling to the floor unconscious. She noticed the wound in his left hip and hurried herself to at least give him a decent human treatment.

Lofn managed to put away the helmet and the chest armor, revealing his bald head and his brawny yet aging body respectively; she put wool with alcohol in the wound, which did not hurt enough to awake him; once she cleaned it up, she put some bandage to stop more blood to came out; once it stopped bleeding, she barely put Ranger above the mattress and put a blanket to cover him. I t did not take much time until he fell sleep.

Lofn looked at the wounded soldier one last time before going to her own bed where Ripper was sleeping; it was obvious her parents would not be happy when they discover she helping another psyker who barely shielded his mind, but there was too much hatred in the galaxy to let someone else die by mere inaction. He closed her eyes, trusting in her parents’ return and that she made the right thing saving the stranger.

>And done.... the first chapter of this yet unnamed writefagging is completed. One last bump for the thread.

>Also more reviews are welcome.

...

Probably the best summation 40k I've ever read.

why isn't this animated

Well, you're not far wrong.

Posting art for now, will write something once I come back later : )

Don't die on me bois

Haiku :

She stood laughing amid the burning alien corn,
In her wake, the smell of bacon.

Tale of Inquisitor and his favorite acolyte

The door of underhive factory blew open, as old, grey haired man was thrown out though them. He stood up and brushed off the dust of his suit of fixed up cerapace. Old man then looked forth at the door and saw the one to put him here - a giant mutant with muscles of freakish size, skin now red from the blood of the guardsman he just finished, with mark of khorne on his chest.
"Inquisition sent and old man to kill me? What a pathetic choice" mutant laughed and then pulled out his weapon - a huge chunk of steal on a pole to imitate an axe.
"Well never underestimate your foe mutant" inquisitor pulled out his hand cannon and fired a shot at mutant's head, only leaving small mark as bullet didn't even leave a mark on the thick skull.
Mutant just roared and charged forth, with inquisitor barely getting out of the way of his swing, as old man took another shot and retreated.
"Stop running" khorne cultists roared and charged forth, this time his hit connected, braking inquisitor's gun into peaces.
This was followed up by kick to old man's guts, he was knocked to the floor.
Cultist then then raised his axe into the air to deliver the killing blow, only for old man to pull out a knife from his boot and burry it in cultist's family jewels. This didn't drop the mutant, but he did pause for a moment, only to feel something wrap around his leg.
Upon looking down he saw a serpantic tail. And before he could look back, he felt sharp, tearing pain of the teeth of a chainsword going into his back.
Cultist tried to turn around, but tail pulled him to floor, where chaisword finally lobed off the head of the red mutant and it's wielder could now come into view.
It was a woman, probably in late twenties, her pale face now covered in scars and fresh wounds, her sides covered by now almost broken flak armor, bleeding a bit. But most notable part was her lower half - where one would usually find legs was a long scaled tail...

"Area is clear" woman turned off the chainsword and leaned forward, offering the handle to the inquisitor.
"Keep the blade for now" old man stood up. "Say, how about we let guardsman deal with the rest, while we go and get a moment of respite?"
"Whatever you order, sir" mutant replied.
"Don't act so around me, you been my right hand for long enough to call me by name" old man laughed.
"Sorry, sir" woman smirked.
"Let's go, I remember there was a nice bar few levels up from here"
And so inquisitor took off with his little helper, recalling few things from the past on the way up

(So should this be continued?)

...

...

...

I wrote a few things years ago, but never even got close to completing them.
One was a story about a feral worlder who gets abducted by Dark Eldar while he was on a raid himself. Eventually he was going to end up as a chaos marine, but that petered out quickly. I was attempting to write in first person present tense for that story, and I just couldn't keep going with it.
I also did one about an Inquisitor being debriefed about a campaign (though it was structured largely as a trial). It read as a transcript, with most of the action coming from the inquisitor's POV. If readers payed attention the campaign was actually an Imperial attack on the world of Avatar the Last Airbender.
I had tons of ideas for it, like Iroh being able to somewhat redirect a plasma bolt (using the lightning technique), earthbenders being really good at ambushing IG tanks, and the inquisition eventually calling in the Grey Knights to deal with the avatar. But again, it just sort of faded away, largely due to the style I chose.
The only one I can remember finishing was one about a Culexus assassin getting assigned to be someone's bodyguard.The idea was that the Emperor's Tarot indicated a certain person was going to be incredibly important later, and also directed this particular assassin to protect him. Since the situation was so abnormal, the assassin had to undergo additional training and surgery so he could pass for a regular guy, and it didn't go to well. He ended up being an ugly, disease ridden mess with a bad smell. The higher ups decided that would actually work for his cover, so they just sent him on the mission like that. It ended with the assassin disguised as a guardsman, reading orders from the Officio (disguised as simple pornography), waiting for Ciaphas Cain's lander to arrive.

And then I lost that computer, works included.

Then there's the porn, but we got kicked off the board for that stuff so I won't go into more detail.

>smooth metallics
>clean hazard lines

Mhmm, dat's dat shit dat make muh dick hard.

That's not a haiku. . .