Jump to content

The Rise of the Warmaster


Skirax

Recommended Posts

lol, then i'll change that part later. i did copy and paste it and i changed it in word. you don't seriously think that i am that stupid do you..... ^^. can you print out mine the whole thing on friday/saturday and give it to me at gamesday? please....:) i'll pay for the paper and stuff when we meet each other ^^.

thanks

antique_nova

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Guys, this is your final warning. Although the B&C is here to have fun, it is here to promote constructive discussion about power armour. Off-topic discussion will not be tolerated in any form. The off-topic posts have been removed. If the topic deviates once more from the story and critiques of the story, this thread will be closed and further action may be taken. =][=
Link to comment
Share on other sites

also in the story, no need to bracket the word tempary , just - xxxxx - will do fine and it looks better as well.

plus this line needs improving, it doesn't flow better than glass paper at the moment.

 

Using Xantes as a base, he eventually twisted it to Xerxes, a once influential figure in Terra’s ancient times.

 

thanks

antique_nova

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Thanks for the replies fellas, sorry Sigismund. Although, final warning? When were we warned before?

 

And Antique, I will print of your story, and I will change my story.

 

EDIT: Woops, sorry Sigismud, didn't see that post...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The next records of Suroh's service have long been lost, but tales and rumours indicate that he ended his career abruptly – with the highest order of heresy.

 

The news of Suroh’s moment of madness never reached Uhlos’ ears, Suroh having killed all the Storm Troopers who witnessed the slaughter. When the Acolytes found Suroh lying amongst twenty dead companions, they believed that Chaos Cultists had stormed the bunker after the bomb had hit, their mutated forms too much for the Storm Troopers to handle, physically and mentally. But that matter was for the Departmento Scriptorium to handle, what scared the Inquisition was the sheer size that Xerxes - Suroh’s alternate identity - had grown to in one mere night. His sabre lay bloodied next to him, and his animus-spectrum whining as the acolytes approached.

Back in his quarters, Suroh contemplated the events of the previous battle. He had been battling deamons, and then, as soon as the deamons had left, Uhlos had warp-bombed the planet, hoping to kill any survivors – even those who fought for the Inquisition! Suroh could not believe the ruthlessness of the Inquisition. After that, his memory was blanked.

Suddenly the shadows of the room thickened, and mist drifted from the darkness. A voice rang out through the room, and Suroh recognised it instantly; it was the Star Child.

‘I guess you have many questions as to how you have regained your previous form?’

‘Yes!’ cried Suroh, nought but panic and confusion in his voice. The Star Child's reply was a throaty laugh, one of mocking and pity.

‘You were not killing deamons, so I had to take control of your body. After you dived into the bunker, twenty Storm Troopers trained their rifles on you, and when you almost surrendered, I took my chance and seized your body. Twisting your thoughts, I then sent you into a rage, during which you became invincible. The souls you slaughtered were sent to me in tribute, and in return I granted you the power your rightfully deserved; a full return to your Primarch status and another, bonus trait. Until the time when I decree, you will be able to change your form, allowing you to gain more kills in my name.’

The voice spoke as if it was no big matter, but to Suroh, it was torment. He was about to escape from the clutches of one master, only to have signed his soul over to another. Then, he saw this as a chance; he could break free from the restraints had been bound to for hundreds of years. Embracing his new master, he fell to his knees and prayed in the name of the Star Child.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

appreciate the help skirax, just remember to bring it ;).

 

Comments on the story, the part when he goes into a rage needs to be worked on, because that doesn't flow like silk to the human mind.

 

‘Yes!’ cried Suroh, nought but panic and confusion in his voice. His reply was a throaty laugh, one of mocking and pity.

 

plus this line needs a work on. and you are putting in too many full spots in your paragraphs which is very annoying. because your brain auto-stops.

 

thanks

antique_nova

Link to comment
Share on other sites

yes, i think two stories of his history are enough! one is kinda weird, two is good and three is pushing your luck. GET to the story of him actually narrating it now! :P. ^^ move and work slave * whip lash comes out* work faster! ^^.

Apart from that i think horus can wait until the end of a season? and the next seaon involves him. the audience are more interest in suroh than lame abaddon at the moment ^^.

thanks

antique_nova

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The ship’s hull glowed and was set afire as it entered the atmosphere of Istvaan V, the thick ceramite plating absorbing any radiation and reflecting it back. On the highest point of the command bay, Forge-Master Vulkan Tu'shan stood, his eyes darting from one section of the planet to another. However, as the mist of the clouds receded, a great symbol blazed up from the scorched planet. For the past ten thousand years the fires had never burnt out, and the now the Eye of Horus stared up at them. At the centre stood a great podium, and to the east, not far from it though, was the great fortress, the place where records told of the first inter-legionary battles. Thousands of their brothers had died here and now Tu’shan was sure hundreds more would follow. Suddenly the vox’s erupted in a stream of static and hissing.

‘Subdue that signal, I want all vox ways clear for orders,’ barked Tu’shan.

The fleet operator looked baffled. ‘We can’t my lord,’ replied hesitantly, his eyes darting from Tu’shan to the screen.

Unsure of what to make of the static, Tu’shan ordered a quick scan of the planet, to confirm no life signals, despite Tu’shan’s keen eyesight and judgement. Long before the scanners confirmed there was no life on the planet however; Tu’shan was already issuing orders for the marines to get to their pods and the Terminators to get to the teleporters.

 

The drop was quick and uneventful. Even as the pods hammered into the ground and disgorged enough Astartes to take a whole planet, they met no resistance. Quickly establishing a cordon, the Marines secured a landing ground in which the Terminators landed. Now however, the alert was lost and the Marines were more relaxed, though they didn’t drop their guard for one moment. Tu’shan Landed, flanked by his retinue and accompanied by a loud buzzing, which soon died away. They were close to the fortress now, and the static that had plagued them since their arrival was building. The Marines had all removed their helmets, the sound so unbearably loud that even their specialised hearing couldn’t block it out. Such was the volume that even the removed helmets were emitting a loud static which forced the marines to raise their voices when conversing.

Barking some snap orders, Tu’shan directed some squads to the edge of the fortress, to make a sweep of the exterior to ensure all auto-defence turrets were offline. When a messenger came back, confirming complete weapons shut down, Tu’shan ordered an armoured advance into the fortress. He was taking no chances.

 

The inside was musky and stank of blood and decaying flesh, the very air clinging to the robes of Tu’shan’s retinue with a stale thickness which further proved the fact that the inside of the fortress had not been touched with fresh air for millennia. A positive thing that had come out of the fortress was that the static had dissipated and instead the airways had been filled with the sound of a beautifully ancient song, one that was completely alien and yet familiar to each Salamander in their own. It was similar to those old songs of Nocturne, ones that had stuck with the soldiers all their lives. As they drew closer to the centre of the fortress complex, the song became louder, and each verse was a new and exciting one, each filling each Salamander with many emotions. Finally Tu'shan rounded a corner and came to the central room.

 

The place was alight with beautiful fire, its flames glowing a nice deep red and each flame expelling a section of the beautiful song. But at the centre of the room stood the greatest and most beautiful thing the Salamanders had ever seen.

The figure was one of unaccountable beauty, a bright light radiating from its skin, and a long cloak made from dragon scales draped over his broad shoulders. The figures mouth was open and from it came the fabled Song of Entropy. Its arms were outstretched, as if it were awaiting the retinue’s presence. Upon seeing the assembly before him, the figure closed his mouth and lowered his arms, the song dying away reluctantly. The retinue dropped to their knees, awe and majesty taking over them. Tu’shan, however, stood where he was, he mouth wide open and his weapons limp at his side. The figure smiled.

‘I was wondering when you’d come,’ said Vulkan softly.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

lol no you can't they weren't marines! lol. some good parts like the ending,but..... the marines would of usded hand signals and not risk detection even with the pod landing. and if they needed to find out if the weapons systems were down. they wouldn't of done an armoured advance. you need to think of something like thunderhawks etc.

that's all for now.

thanks

antique_nova

Link to comment
Share on other sites

As Tu'shan and his retinue stood looking at Vulkan, resplendant before them, a loud thudding came from behind the demi-god, and another figure came from the blinding light. Where Vulkan was a tall man, sleek and yet bristling with muscle, this figure was a hulking brute, in armour that only added to the immense shape of this man. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and gravelly, like sandpaper scraping against a brick wall.

'I knew it. I knew yours would come first,' he said at a slightly raised volume. He threw his hands into the air and marched into the space between Vulkan and Tu'shan. Vulkan rolled his eyes, obviously bored already with this giant. 'Didn't I tell you?! My lot are lazy and slack. Well, now that I'm here, there are going to be some changes.'

'Yes, yes, we both knew that you knew my Legion would come first. We've been hearing the same whittle for ten millennia!' retorted Vulkan, breaking the numbing awesomeness that he cast about the room.

'I was just saying-'

'Oh, you always just say!'

'Um...my Lord?' said Tu'shan, or at least he attempted to. What came out was more of a whispered mumble. He cleared his throat, and then tried again. 'My Lord.'

Vulkan looked at the Forge Master, and then smiled at his young brother. He walked around the brute, who looked after Vulkan with an annoyed expression on his ugly face. Vulkan placed his hands on the small Marine’s shoulders. ‘Yes, my brother?’ he asked.

‘With great respect my Lord, how did you come to be here? Records from the Chapter Librarium states that you left for the Eye of Terror, across the other side of the Galaxy?’ he enquired, then he blushed as the brute before him laughed.

‘Do you not find it strange how Ferrus Manus has returned from the unforgiving grasp of death?’ said a voice from the shadows, then two bright eyes shone out from the darkness. The shadows seemed to warp as yet another figure came walking from the darkness. He wore dark armour, which almost warped the light to an extent where he was invisible. Every time Tu’shan tried to focus on him, his eyes refused the figure’s existence. His vision wandered off to the right or blurred and he had to rub his eyes. Even his heightened senses could not accept the possibility of this man. ‘How is that my brother Vulkan and I have come to be here after being spotted entering the Eye of Terror? I shall tell you why – we have been brought back thanks to the psychic will of the Emperor. The End Times approach and the universe shall be thrown into eternal war – we will have a chance to prevent this, but should we fail we will have no other chance to change it. No more chances. Nevermore.’

All the while Corax was speaking; Ferrus Manus was tapping his Living Hands, almost hypnotically.

Then, as a cold silence descended on the room, a trio of Raven Guard plummeted through the roof, and a moment later a group of Iron Hands burst through the wall to the left.

‘I knew it!’ roared Ferrus Manus.

 

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

Far away on the ice cold death world of Fenris, a feast was being held in memory of the Old Wolf and the induction of the most successful Great Wolf ever to grace the Space Wolves ranks – Ragnar Blackmane. The entire of the Fangs store of ale and meat had been drained in the name of this great and yet sad occasion. Songs rang out from the Great Hall, mementos of the Old Wolf’s great deeds and celebrations of Blackmane’s rise to the title of Great Wolf. Despite the Astartes great immune system, the Wolves staggered out of the Hall drunk, their stomachs bulging from the beatings they took during the feast. Some Blood Claws threw punches at each other, punches which erupted into brotherly brawls, and Long Fangs reminisced about the old times when they were mere pups. Wolf Guard gathered together and bowed their heads in the name of the Old Wolf, but the most momentous moment was when the Old Wolf’s company’s stone was removed, and taken to the Hall of Heroes, where it joined countless hundreds of stones, all laid out around Russ’ personal stone. Then the Wolf Lords raised the Blackmane’s stone and placed it at the head of the circle. The Wolf Lords bowed their head in respect, and a silence descended upon them. But before this silence could finish, a Chapter serf came running at full pace into the Great Hall.

Catching his breath, he gasped as what he had seen began to take shape in his words. ‘Outside...a giant wolf...double headed...Morkai...’ he gasped, and the Lords looked quickly from the serf of each other. They rushed outside, and their nightmares became a reality.

 

Beyond the gates of the Fang, the wind howled around the wolves, the Iron Wolf’s breath pulling at their beards and cloaks. The snow was whipped up around them and their hair was specked with spots of white. But these things were ignored as blood flowed hotly through the assembled Lords’ veins at the sight of the twin headed black wolf, howling into the night. Then it tensed its muscles, it’s great legs rippling with tension, then in one, thunderous motion, Morkai leapt into the sky, it’s form defying vision, growing the further away it went from the planet’s surface. The Lords stared up at the monster, their mouths open and their weapons at rest.

‘And at the time of Ending the great wolf Morkai shall rise into the sky...’ said Ragnar Blackmane as he looked up at the vast living shadow. Then the shadow grew, slowly and relentlessly, until the entire of Fenris was plunged into eternal night. ‘And he shall swallow the sun and plunge the world into blackness.’

‘The gates of death!’ cried Erik Morkai, before breaking off and sprinting back into the Fang.

 

The Lords flew down the steps, the great winter of Fenris plunging to even lower temperatures as the pale sun was ousted. The further down the steps they went, the colder it got, until their breath almost froze in the air before them. With every step they felt cold dread clutch their hearts, until it was an unforgiving grasp, and they came to the last step. There, in a great chamber stretching out for miles around them, were the Black Gates of Death, ones that Morkai had stood vigil over for over one hundred centuries. Now those gates were opening, souls escaping in moans and low grumbles as their souls were let loose. All the while the gates were opening, allowing more and more souls to ravage the living world. A low rumbling had filled the chamber, and strong wind, stronger than the one on the surface even, had whipped up. Now that rumbling reached a deafening climax, further added to by the moaning of a thousand dead souls. Now however, the gates had stopped, opened to their full extent, and the souls that had been spilling from the gates had been spent, and now where rising like warm vapours to the surface. But the Wolf Lords cared not for these damned souls, only the great figure striding slowly from the darkness towards them. He was a giant amongst the Astartes, and a god amongst men. The Original Great Wolf, now a mere legend, reborn to walk amongst mortals once more. As one the Lords dropped to their knees, their heads lowered and their weapons dropped to the floor. The figure smiled, and spread his hands wide. His smile faded, and a look of inconsolable sadness. ‘And so I return, the laws of Life and Death lifted. I have returned. For the Final Battle. For the Wolftime. But beware, the laws of death have not been lifted for me specifically. I fear we shall see the Arch-Traitor soon.’

Link to comment
Share on other sites

not bad, but the figure betwene vulkan and the forge master could be detailed more and less confusing. and the way the morkia wolf could be explain better as it was a tid confusing. the serf explaining morkia? they are drones and their minds aren't as independent to do such things. you need another character to do that. more like a vox across the wall or the candles going out. plus at the end. russes' speech could be improved. apart from that very good :P.

thanks

antique_nova

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.