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++Inspirational Friday - 19/06/2015++

Inspirational Friday

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#226
Excessus

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What the heck, how did I miss that there was another entry witha Nemesis-theme? It's not in the post on the first page as far as I can see...

 

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#227
Kierdale

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It was last year :)
Still, that's absolutely no reason not to have it again! New members, etc.
Especially as some are interested in teaming up.

#228
Zhaharek

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I'll take that offer Tetengee, my Chaos Dragons have a healthy hate for Horus, and his Black Legion.

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#229
Carrack

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The Black Maw Warband had destroyed an Imperial Crusade to take back the world of Frederic III, when a daemon, Barghast the Painbringer, catastrophically overloaded a lance array at the site of their beachhead.

Reflections of Pain
Spoiler


The original Nemesis entry,

Nourished by Hate
Spoiler


My entry for this week is Reflections of Pain. Since it is a continuation of last years Nemesis challenge, I included that as well, if anyone wants to read that one. I wanted to take up someone's challenge, but I've had this story stuck in my head. I hope we challenge each other again.

PS. It's 250 words, honest ;)

Edited by Carrack, 03 June 2015 - 09:22 AM.


#230
Zhaharek

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So this a (late) product of collaboration with Teetengee, which I must thank him for. This weeks story focuses on a pair of Chosen, animatedly discussing a recent development in their war with the Word Bearers. Looks like Lord Zhaharek has a new nemesis...


KILL ESCHARON
Arioz and Takero fought like daemons, side by side in red and gold. Word Bearers closed in, 7 on 2. Arioz smiled, he liked these odds. He struck aside the first blade, his blazing mace against whirring teeth, and pre-empted the second with a fatal jab. He regarded the dying Legionary as blood flowed from a warped helm. Struck aside a fist, taking the arm with it, without looking. Undeterred, the Word Bearer closed a fist around Arioz's gorget.
Yanked forward, CLANG, glowing spots in his eyes, and a wet concrete numbness in his head. Arioz bellowed, and spat, scraping his left canines together as he did. For a second, his mouth tasted of ash, then his lips began to burn, before his grille clicked open, and fire engulfed the Word Bearers head. He fell back, and Arioz swatted him aside, contemptuous and swift.

Cold steel, in his left shoulder, out of nowhere. Arioz turned, and caved in a faceplate, snarling wetly as the sword slipped out of his shoulder. His arm would be slower for a while. As if to prove that point, he barely managed to parry the next blow, from a one-armed Word Bearer with a scorched helmet. Arioz pushed against the chain blade, sparks in his face, roaring at Takero, "Since when where Word Bearers competent?"
The other Marine had to holler over the sound of his bolt pistols, as he laid down withering suppressive fire, "I suppose it might relate to- Down!"
Arioz ducked, the scorched Legionaries blade nearly decapitating him. Takero turned a pistol on him, and the Word Bearer did a bloody, jerking dance, before crumpling.

The dual wielder restarted, "I suppose it might relate to their Black Legion allies." He kneecapped a Word Bearer without looking, a meat double-tap. Arioz returned to his feet, taking advantage of the momentary lull in combat. The remaining four had abandoned close quarters, and backed off to form a firing line. Not Veterans of the Long War, evidently just half blooded things, recent additions to the 17th. Arioz suddenly processed what Takero had said, and yelled, "Black Legion?!?"
"Oh calm down, it's just a warband." said the other Dragon, taking a pair of potshots at the firing line. Takero paused. "They've got a flamer."
Arioz laughed, as the two of them were engulfed in promethium. Too often did opponents forget that the "Dragon" part of the Chaos Dragons had significant foundation. They shared a glance, and Arioz charged, Takero's bolts howling past his him.
"How did we make an enemy of this Warband?" Arioz asked, kicking the flamer user in the face, still harmlessly ablaze. The fact that his mace already perpetually whirled with witch-fire added to aesthetic.

Takero answered, over the thunder of his pistols again, "Their leader, Escharon. I bore witness to it, he challenged Lord Zhaharek."
Arioz laughed as he STOMP-STOMP-STOMPED on the flamer's chest. Takero shook his head. He'd seen it.

The dual wielder had been crouched in by something that clanked and whirred when he'd seen it. This world had probably been a forge world. Lord Zhaharek was standing idle, toying with witch-fire in the palm of his hand. Then, the actinic tang of ozone, teleportation.

Escharon arrived, flanked by Terminators in sea green and burnt silver. Takero looked at the Lord, in what could only be Aegis armour. Scarred, and mutilated but nonetheless-

"Wait, Aegis armour?!?" Arioz grunted incredulously, punching a Word Bearer.
"Yes, now don't interrupt." returned Takero, pistol whipping a Legionary as he did.

Zhaharek had turned, imperious and cold, to say, "Nice coffin you're wearing, did you obtain it through brute strength or pick it off a battlefield somewhere?"
The other Astartes had glanced at the Sorcerer, and sent in his Terminators. Takero hadn't heard the rest what they said to Zhaharek, but it ended with the Terminators opening up with their Combi-weapons.

But Zhaharek had already disappeared, and was already trading blows with Escharon, who,
much to Takero's shock, strode through the tirade of witch-fire, to smack Zhaharek back. Just as Takero had seen Zhaharek begin to hold his own, with vicious telekinetic blows, did the ground begin to rumble, and the two combatants split apart. In a few moments, Escharon was gone. And in Zhaharek's distraction, the Seventeenth had gained the upper hand.

Arioz back handed, then jabbed to the stomach, then swung his mace around, BAM, to kill the final thin-blooded Word Bearer. Then, turning to Takero, who was taking a moment to lean on a corpse, "So, I can't imagine that Lord Zhaharek is in a good mood." he said.
The other Dragon shook his head, "Enraged, of course."

As if on queue, their standing orders changed, and update in their vox HUD. It read simply: "KILL ESCHARON."

Arioz laughed. Takero shrugged, an odd motion in power armour, and asked, "What now? It looks like we have a new nemesis."
Arioz hefted his mace. "Can't you read?" He adjusted his grip, and said: "We kill Escharon."

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#231
Teetengee

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“Damnable Miscreant!” Escharon shouted over the screams and machinery of the Beast.
“Sir we are still-
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THIS WILL COST ME! In slaves, in time, in oaths. My forgelords can’t repair damage this extensive and-”
An explosion interrupted him as the Beast was sent several meters sideways and skidded to a halt. An earsplitting roar came from the creature while Escharon and his knights left it to tell the damage. One of the Dragons rushed his position screaming death only to be stopped as the beast opened its tracked claws and tore him in two, still screaming, though the tone had changed slightly.
“Sir, we have to wait here, the right tread is inoperable.”
“...colchashbinyonmorbakhfarnzshtheth….” Escharon chanted, calming the injured creature, while his attendants waited. “Hail Balgo and Ulrick on the vox.”
“Ulrick is nonresponsive, Balgo is here.” said one of the serfs who had just now climbed from the Beast covered in fresh wounds and holding out the speaker of the ancient vox he wore, which Escharon quickly took.
--“Balgo. Orders my lord?--
--“You and Ulrick have command for now, make sure he doesn’t lose too many this time.”--
--“Yes, my liege, I will use the madmen appropriately.”--
Escharon turned to the vox-slave, “Now, hail my scribes, find out who that sorcerer was.”
“Right away my lord.” The remaining serfs furiously began communicating descriptions and battle positions back with the ships above.
“My lord, it appears the offender’s name is Zhaharek, lord of the Chaos Dragons.”
“Very well,” Escharon replied, whilst he and his retinue made short work of the small units that kept bearing down on them near the edge of the battle. “Once we finish what we came here for, send a notice throughout the Tide, any who bring me Zhaharek’s head may ask for one boon. Those who bring him to me alive will be given a weapon from my personal armoury.”

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In us burns a fire for vengeance that will only be quenched when we stand triumphant over the smoldering ruins of Terra. Our laughter on that day will haunt their survivors till the end of time. We will stride forth victorious through the shattered gates of their fortress, holding high aloft the defiled corpse of their rotting god as our prize.
Wulfkry, on 02 Jul 2013 - 3:38 PM, said: So an inquisitor is receiving SM implants using GK geneseed stolen off the fields of armageddon interesting..
Captain Semper, on 29 May 2015 - 4:10 AM, said: There is crazy and there is Teetengee crazy... ph34r.pngnuke.gif

Warsmith Aznable, on 30 Jan 2016 - 01:16 AM, said: 13. Teetengee wrote "Warp Born" and I won't even go into how disturbing the subject matter was.
The Psycho, on 26 Apr 2016 - 10:50 PM, said: That's either really disturbing or really cute, I haven't quite made up my mind yet.

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I'm not dead, and I like 8th better than 7th.


#232
TDF

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The commanders of the 47th Host stood in the Enlightenment’s war room. It had been a very long time since all of them had been gathered in one place, but this was a most uncommon circumstance. The Long War had lasted for over seven-and-a-half millennia and this was only the Warmaster’s ninth Black Crusade.

 

Coryphaus Xal Guram brought up a schematic of the Black Legion warship Hell’s Graveyard on the pict screen. “What do we know of the Black Brothers?” he asked.

 

Garan Amalphus stepped forwards. “They’re zealots. They were utterly devoted to Horus until Abaddon stole their loyalty at the point of a sword. Now they’re his self-appointed enforcers.”

 

“Can we expect them to interfere with our operations?” Kor Mellek asked.

 

“Without a doubt,” replied Amalphus. “I never had the pleasure of meeting Anaxilas when I fought for the XVI, but I know him by reputation. He is completely inflexible when it comes to obeying orders. The Warmaster only demands that the weapons factories of Tuleien IV be silenced. His directive says nothing of Tuleien VI.”

 

“The sixth planet must die,” Kanan Raam interjected. “The song is very clear on that. I care nothing for the fourth. The Black Brothers are fully capable of carrying out their orbital bombardment with or without us.”

 

“By your Word, Dark Apostle,” Amalphus nodded. “But we should be aware that Anaxilas is likely to react angrily to any deviation from Abaddon’s orders.”

 

“We will keep the Black Brothers’ ships at arm’s length then,” said Xal Guram. “I will relay our formation to the fleet. Dismissed.”

 

As the astartes left the room Xal Guram turned to Kanan Raam. “My lord, would it not be best to delay the destruction of Tuleien VI until after the campaign on Tuleien IV is complete and the Black Brothers have translated out of system?”

 

Kanan Raam shook his head. “When I look to the future I hear a confused cacophony. I do not want to leave this action to chance. It is critical that we destroy the sixth planet as soon as we can before we are knocked aside by the tides of war.”

 

Xal Guram saluted. “By your Word, Dark Apostle.”


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#233
Conn Eremon

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The low growl as Anaxilas leaned down to grip the sides of the holo-projector table came as much from his throat as the servos in his thick plate armor. Black motes slowly danced before his eyes, approaching in formation upon a veritable cloud composed of pinpricks of white light. Distantly, but on the same course, a swarm of red dots surged like a tide of blood. Word Bearers, a warband deluding itself into thinking their ancient, bloated Legion still existed in any relevant manner. Alongside Anaxilas and the Black Brothers, they were rapidly approaching the Imperium's first line of defense in the Tuleien System, close enough to see Tuleien VI, the system's first inhabited world, as a small disk, like a pebble held up close for inspection. But it was the Word Bearers that held Anaxilas' attention.

“They are off course.”

This was noticed by his brother Hieromathes as well, captain of the Hell's Graveyard and master of the Black Brothers' ships. “Their current path will take them directly into the center of the defenses surrounding Tuleien VI. It appears they do not intend to follow the plan of performing a rapid termination of the target world, and instead intend to take the system one at a time. Should we follow? We will both be more likely to achieve our goals as a combined force.”

Anaxilas' grip tightened, the metal ridges groaning as he asserted formidable pressure. But instead of answering, Anaxilas turned to look upon one of his men, the former Techmarine Anaecles. “Did the Legion archives have anything on this Host that would explain their behavior?”

Anaecles unfolded his arms from across the chest, shifting his weight forward as attention was placed upon him, his mechanical voice emitting directly from where his voicebox used to be. “The 47th Host is led by Kanan Raam, a former Word Bearer who appears to be a rather fey fool. His mind is filled with a cacophony of noise that would make a son of Fulgrim wince, yet he believes that it is a form of music that enlightens him to his destiny. Far as I can tell, he's chosen this path because the singers in his head tell him to.”

A derisive, barking laugh came from Erasimedes, the champion of the Black Brothers and the Tyrant's confidante, at his brother's words. “How like the bearers of Lorgar's words, to find meaning in something useless and call it proof of faith.”

Hieromathes interrupted Erasimedes before he could continue further, taking a step forward. “I ask again, should we follow?”

Anaxilas straightened himself up and looked at his ship's captain. “The Warmaster's orders were clear. Tuleien IV cannot be allowed to supply the front lines against him, and we are to do so with haste and economy, so that we may rejoin the Black Legion whole and unspent. Send a message to whichever ship this Kanan Raam dwells in that his fleet must avoid the defenses around Six and make for Four alongside us, by order of the Warmaster.”

Hieromathes nodded his head. “I'll relay the message, but he won't like it. Abaddon is not his Warmaster.”

“He can believe all he likes, as long as he obeys. If they do not assault Tuleien IV alongside us, this Host will know that we carry the Warmaster's wrath as we unleash it. If their duplicity loses us our objective, than the knowledge will prove fatal. I will personally see to that.”

“Is that wise, Tyrant? Their ships do outnumber ours.” Erasimedes asked, but it was Hieromathes who answered.

“They do, but if it comes to that I can make the first hit count, and the second hit count even more.”

“Good. Now, bypass Tuleien VI, and pass on my warning.” With that, Anaxilas turned his back from the table and began the trek to his arming chamber, Erasimedes following alongside.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

NECRO-DECRYPTION ASTRAVOX TRANSCRIPT
ORDO HERETICUS EYES ONLY

Sample Number: 856.235.512.584//841
Transcript Begins: [1v1/932/J.465] 574.M38

A: Kanan Raam, this is Anaxilas. Hold fast. Prepare for boarding.

K: Boarding? I don't particularly care for the commanding tone. With what right do you think to board us?

A: By right of the Warmaster.

K: “The Warmaster is not here, son of Horus, and neither has there been contact with him.

Vox disruption. Hypothetical: Subject A is growling.

A: Your attack on Tuleien VI was not part of the Warmaster's plan given unto us. Your assault has jeopardized our efforts. Whatever power you sought to gain there is by rights due to the Warmaster, by your service to him. We will board, and you will give to us this tithe.

K: Be careful of the demands you make, Anaxilas. I serve higher powers first and always, and I act as their will is sung.

A: There are no higher powers than the Warmaster.

Further vox disruption, from Subject K, suggesting a transformation of his facial features. EDITORIAL NOTE: HE SMILED. ANALYSIS OF SUBJECT K'S FOLLOWING WORDS LEADS ONE TO ASSUME A TONE OF MOCKERY

K: I speak of the gods.

A: Gods fail.

Vox disruption from Subject K ceases, facial transformation halted. EDITORIAL NOTE: SEE ABOVE

K: I say this one more time, Black Brother. Be wary of your words.

A: Then I will waste no more words, apostle. Prepare your ship for boarding.


Transcript Ends: [1v1/937/W.465] 574.M38

Necro-Decryption Savant: Membetic 7159 ={LIQUIDATED}=
Auto-Transcriptor Savant: Geshaleph 2153 ={LIQUIDATED}=

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#234
TDF

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The enormous slab of muscle that was once Ezrus Khiyron let out a deafening bellow and charged down the length of the corridor, tossing aside Word Bearers, serfs and Black Legionnaires alike. Kanan Raam followed, executing wounded Black Brothers with precision shots from his plasma pistol.

 

The Dark Apostle cursed himself for his stupidity. Every seer knew the risk that any action taken to avoid a possible future ran the risk of bringing about the very future it was supposed to prevent. His decision to carry out the destruction of the sixth planet had sparked the conflict he had tried to pre-empt.

 

Kanan Raam turned a corner and his self-flagellation was brought to an abrupt halt by the sight of the giant chaos spawn lying headless on the ground, its acidic black blood steaming off the power sword of Anaxilas, Tyrant of the Black Brothers.

 

“I will give your head to the gods, Anaxilas!” Kanan Raam roared.

 

“And I will give your head to the Warmaster,” Anaxilas smiled grimly. “Same difference.”

 

Kanan Raam swung his crozius and sparks flew as its energy field collided with that of Anaxilas’ power sword.

 

“You will die for your blasphemy,” the Dark Apostle spat.

 

The Tyrant deigned to answer, instead lunging with a strike that slid down the haft of the crozius and severed three of Kanan Raam’s fingers. The Dark Apostle stumbled backwards and, without thinking, threw down a rune stone onto the deck. There was a crack of lightning and a strong whiff of ozone, and then the corridor was ripped apart as the warp tore its way into the mortal realm.

 

The corridor distorted further and further; within moments the two combatants were over ten metres apart. Anaxilas fired his bolt pistol but the rounds were swallowed up by the gaping warp void. The shots served only to attract the attention of the Plague God’s servants clambering out of the schism.

 

Anaxilas fought the daemons off for a few minutes, sending over two dozen back to the hell they had so recently clawed their way out of. Their numbers were without end, however, and with a bitter Cthonian curse the Tyrant made his retreat.

 

Kanan Raam drew his athame and sliced twin lines down his cheeks. With a murmured prayer he brought the blade down onto the rune stone and shattered it. The neverborn burst open, spraying diseased fluids in every direction. The warp rift imploded with a deafening thunderclap. Kanan Raam turned, passing by the already regenerating spawn. As he walked up the corridor his ears rang with vox-calls from across the fleet, relaying the bloody consequences of his folly.


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#235
Tenebris

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Greetings and welcome to Inspirational Friday. First thing first I have to thank the moderator in making Excessus for helping me run the column while I was busy with RL stuff. I really liked the idea of the Chaos Familiar and Nemesis and after reading your contributions I am very tempted to provide a similar cooperative topic in the future. Said so I can say that that this week contributions were epic and every single one sparked my curiosity and I really wanted more. From the superb venom twist to the descent to madness of a Cardinal to the clash between Chaos Lords, everything was very well written and truly inspiring, and for this you have my thanks frater. 

 

So who is the winner this week, well actually there are two winners or better, we have a winning team. TDF and Conn Eremon surprised us all with the good narrative and a nice confrontation between two very different Chaos Warbands and two very different Chaos Lords. Both have their motives, both answer to a higher authority and both and inflexible when comes to obeying the said orders be them spoken by the Warmaster or sung by the Dark Gods. I really liked this exchange between TDF and Conn Eremon and I think that their work is both inspiring and the reason why I plan to present some more cooperative topics in the future. 

 

I must say that a honorable mention goes to all the writers this week for your contributions kept me behind the PC and now behind the keyboard for a good two hours of real fanfiction. As I have said above, I thank you for this. 

 

Come forth TDF and Conn Eremon and recieve your prize!

 

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As promised this Inspirational Friday will be something special and I kept my promise. Two weeks ago I challenged the frater to a picture competition in the Aedes area and of them all airinhere's contribution was the best. The prize was not only to chose a topic for Inspirational Friday but also to be the judge of the contributions. I want you to welcome airinhere among us and offer him your best. 

 

 

Inspirational Friday - 05/06/2015 - Ruination

 

This week I would like to turn our thoughts to what transpires in the mind of the heretic when he first realizes the finality of his deeds. What surge of endorphin or pangs of regret might he experience as he slowly begins to realize that he is the monster.

 

The Knights of Blood are a chapter of space marine that walks the edge between heresy and honor.  Fleet based operations keep brothers separated by time and space. Yet, as a whole they are slipping slowly into chaos.  Your challenge is to find that moment for a brother in the Knights of Blood chapter and chronicle their story.

 

Not all chapters of Space Marines fall to the temptations of Chaos at once. And not all men find its embrace satisfying.

 

Let us be inspired!


Edited by Tenebris, 05 June 2015 - 07:55 PM.

There is only the Truth. I do not know what it is, but I do believe in it!

Attributed to Dark Apostle Toren Mar, Chapter of the Broken Seal, 71st Host, Word Bearers Legion.

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#236
Castellan Cato

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Desarius sprinted up the winding tunnels with baited breath.  One phrase kept echoing through his mind until he started chanting it aloud into the empty corridor.

 

“Did it work?”

 

He had descended into this ancient crypt on the promise that an archaeotech weapon held at its center would be the salvation of this world.  The cost had been high, his entire command squad had earned the Emperor’s Rest, but he has located the weapon and activated it.  He had heard the ancient machinery grind into action, but his very soul ached to know if it had repelled the Eldar invasion from his beloved homeworld.  He saw light ahead and doubled his speed.  He burst from the entrance portal and he roared out with delight to be in the still open air of Carpathia again.  He saw his Chapter’s keep glimmering on the horizon.  The air was clear of wretched Eldar fighters!

 

His eyes began to adjust to the daylight and his jaw went slack with shock.  On the field below him, where he expected the remnants of his company to welcome him with open arms, was a scene the likes of which he never thought possible.  Hundreds of loyal Marines and Eldar scum alike lay in heaps like refuse unceremoniously tossed into a waste receptacle.  A moment of inspection showed that they had fallen in the midst of close quarters combat.  He paused before a Marine whose combat blade was buried in the shoulder of an Eldar warrior.  What would have been an efficient kill stroke was paused part way through its victim.  Desarius looked for damage on the Marine’s armor, but he could not find any indication of what had sealed the fate of this brave warrior of the Emperor.

 

Desarius fell to his knees unable to bear the grief that was seeping from his heart and into his limbs. Were they all like this?  Had his Chapter fallen despite his efforts?

 

“What has happened here?  Did I cause this?” he yelled, knowing no one but the Emperor could hear him.

 

“You did,” proclaimed a raspy voice behind him.  A skeleton-like hand touched his left pauldron lightly.  “Activating the weapon released an ancient plague on this planet.  All life was terminated immediately.  You have very much pleased the Lord of Decay today.”

 

“What…” Desarius mumbled, stumbling back to his feet.  He turned to the trespasser and found a robed form, roughly the height of a Marine, but with none of the body mass.  The wraith was armed with a large scythe in one bony hand; the other was still extended toward Desarius.  “Who are you?  What is your purpose here?”

 

The phantom chuckled.  “Come with me.  I will show you.  Nurgle has such hopes for you. ”

“Never!” Desarius exclaimed, jumping back away from the creature.  He glanced around for a weapon and raised his guard. “I will not turn from the Emperor! Leave me Daemon.”

 

The dead hands of the specter rose up and pulled back its hood.  Desarius was startled to see his own features looking back at him, although drawn and sickly. “Oh my son… but you already have.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The warrior formerly known as Desarius of the Crimson Eagles lifted his head to look at the ancient Marine he was keeling before. 

 

“And that was the day that you embraced Chaos?” Lord Skeletus wheezed from his command chair.

 

“No,” Desarius the Worldkiller said “That came some time later; after I had learnt the truth of the Gods and the powers they can bestow.  The story I have related is from my day of ruination, as you asked.  The day the Emperor’s light decided to no longer shine on me.”



#237
Kierdale

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Congratulations, TDF and Conn. I think more collaborative efforts might be interesting in the future too.

And congratulations to airinhere and thanks for the interesting topic for this week.

#238
Teetengee

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So, do we have to write about the Knights of Blood, or can we do any ruination moment?


My Chaos WIP Thread (Bigger Pics and Foul Xenos offsite) Hall of Honour, My Storm Reavers (DIY SM Chapter) Story, My Chaos 7.5 Homebrew Codex Thread
In us burns a fire for vengeance that will only be quenched when we stand triumphant over the smoldering ruins of Terra. Our laughter on that day will haunt their survivors till the end of time. We will stride forth victorious through the shattered gates of their fortress, holding high aloft the defiled corpse of their rotting god as our prize.
Wulfkry, on 02 Jul 2013 - 3:38 PM, said: So an inquisitor is receiving SM implants using GK geneseed stolen off the fields of armageddon interesting..
Captain Semper, on 29 May 2015 - 4:10 AM, said: There is crazy and there is Teetengee crazy... ph34r.pngnuke.gif

Warsmith Aznable, on 30 Jan 2016 - 01:16 AM, said: 13. Teetengee wrote "Warp Born" and I won't even go into how disturbing the subject matter was.
The Psycho, on 26 Apr 2016 - 10:50 PM, said: That's either really disturbing or really cute, I haven't quite made up my mind yet.

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I'm not dead, and I like 8th better than 7th.


#239
airinhere

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The main idea is the ruination. Knights of blood are a chapter I play, and their half realized fall into chaos has always held my interest. I will favor stories about the Knights, but they are not the only chapter with such stories.

Follow my Inquisitor Build at Valeria Mane Retenio

Soldiers serving under Inquisitor Retenio  Imperial Army

Bullgryn Brute squad (converted Fantasy Ogres)  Build / Paint thread here

Carcharodon Predation Fleet Mako deployed against Tyranid forces.  Follow here  Here and here

Kroot Mercenary Warband "The Four Fingers"   Read here and here

 

 

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#240
SlangWhanger

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I've been wanting to join in for a while now, and this seems like a great topic! How long is it until entries need to be done by?

"Suffer not the moldline to live"
Motto of the Ordo Modellus


#241
Warsmith Aznable

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I've been wanting to join in for a while now, and this seems like a great topic! How long is it until entries need to be done by?

 

The contest is Friday to Friday, so get your entries in by the following Thursday night for judging. Other than that, it's been said that past topics are OK to revisit, but they are out of competition.


The Iron Hounds (CSM) project log here & IA here. | Our Martyred Lady (SoB) project log here  | Lamenters (BA) WIP thread here.

Index of Inspiration Friday entries here.

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"Three times faster than the usual Warsmith."


#242
SlangWhanger

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As promised, I have attempted a piece of my own. Having reread the brief I realise I may be slightly off, but I wrote about the moment a Loyalist 'clicked' and became one with Chaos. Anywhoo, enjoy...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Korethann flexed his muscle-bundles for the last time, preparing himself for the final, glorious charge. The dismembered corpses of his three battle brothers were scattered about him in the fox-hole, their armour rent in numerous places. Their left pauldrons all bore deep scrapes and heat warping, results of the Chaplain's zealous removal of any links to their previous Chapter.

Korethann looked at his own damaged pauldron and remembered the final, suicidal mission he had been given by his superiors: bring back the head of the Chaos Lord Varr'Brak Nar. In this way would his honour, and thus his place in the Chapter, be restored. The Astartes clamped his ceramite fist around his battered combat knife, his bolter long forgotten as the last of their ammunition ran dry, and gripped the edge of the foetid hole.

With a speed and elegance unbefitting one of such bulk, Korethann leapt out of his sanctuary and prepared himself to die with a curse on his lips and traitor blood on his blade.

But what was waiting for the Space Marine out in the open paused him in his tracks.

Five Chaos Space Marines stood one hundred yards away from him, just looking, bolters hanging languidly at their sides. The one in the centre of the group, wearing greatly embellished power armour, rose an arm in salute, and the five starting trudging forward. Korethann stood stone still, taking stock of the situation. He could take at least two Heretics with him, if not three. Yet he did not.

The Traitors stopped a Rhino's length from him, and the ostentatious one stepped forward, offering a disturbingly genuine bow. Suddenly Korethann realised who he was facing. Varr'Brak Nar. His salvation.

A curt signal, and one of the Chaos Marines stepped forward, handing the loyalist a loaded boltgun. He stepped back in line, and they all turned their backs to him.

This was his chance! He had his honour at his fingertips, within grasping distance. All he had to do was pull the trigger once, and his place in the Chapter would be restored. Four more shots and he would have a chance of returning to it.

His grip tightened on the pistol grip, index finger resting gently on the trigger. Aiming down his sights, Korethann lined up the bolter with the back of Nar's head. His finger started to tense. Finally he would be able to complete the mission his Chapter Master had set him. The Chapter Master who had looked at the four Brothers with open disdain. Korethann would be able to return to the hallowed halls of his Brethren and rejoin their mighty ranks. The Brethren which had shunned him. The Brethren which had stood by as he had been given the sentence worse than death. The Brethren which had treated him as they would the Chaos filth that now stood in front of him. As if he would be happy to spill his own Brothers' blood.

Korethann lowered the bolter, and vomited violently as the truth suddenly hit him.

His Brethren were right.

"Suffer not the moldline to live"
Motto of the Ordo Modellus


#243
Kongou

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 The universe is full of wonders

And I have seen many things

But one thing that has continued to mistify me

through out my life 

is the peoples blinding devotion 

like cattle

to a dead corpse on a throne

Why

why do they give their lives

their children

their materials

their livelihood

to a corpse....

I was one of the blind 

at first

one of the endless number of demigods

guarding the empire

from harm

and yet

the oh so holy order

of the inquisition

wiped my chapter from their records

and blasted my chapters home from orbit

and murders my brothers

un aware

glory lost

sacrifices desecrated

hunted down like dogs

until we

of the second squad 1st company

were the survivors

and you say unto us

why are you here

and I say to you

You act like cattle, mindlessly following a dead mans words without thinking

what are cattle meant for? why are they alive?

Cattle were meant to be butchered

So let us be the butchers on your planet

Pray?

for if you'd rather die tired

who are we to stop you?

~vox transmission to the planetary governor  of achioll terrax


Edited by Kongou, 07 June 2015 - 10:27 PM.

do not ask "Why Kill the Alien?", rather ask, "Why not?"
 
Yesss! Just as planned!" — Spoken by Xi’aquan, Lord of Change, in its death throes
 
The very ideology of the Imperium is scary:
 
victory! Defeat! Honor! Squid!
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#244
Teetengee

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“Through work for the Emperor we are saved. Ask not what the Imperium can do for you. Ask what you can do for the Imperium,” I speak defiantly, though I am caged and in chains. My neck restrained and my eyes forced open by metal and leather, for some foul purpose I know not.
 
The woman sits in front of me, her clothing  as neat and sharp as always, surrounded by vidscreens. Her voice is like a gloved gauntlet, soft on the outside, but concealing a ruthless inner strength, “Why not ask what you have done for the Imperium.” Her words were accentuated by a stream of images surrounding her. People screaming and fleeing. Soldiers fighting civilians. Marines butchering mutants. Butchering heretics. Butchering protesters. Butchering children. I can’t close my eyes to the flood of imagery, some of it I remember, but all of it is familiar.
 
“Listen not to the words of the traitor, for they speak only honeyed lies.” The mantras alone keep me sane in my imprisonment.
 
“Who is lying now, soldier?” The screens filled with more images, how they found them I do not know, but they are scenes I was present for the first time. Once again, I cannot close my eyes to the horrors I see. “Look at what you have done for the Imperium. Imperial citizens, put to the sword purely because they witnessed evidence of the lies that the Imperium tells to them. So tell me, what can you do for the Imperium?”
 
“I protect, I am a servant of the High Lords! I kill their enemies with bolter in hand and hate in my heart!” I cannot give in to a heretic.
 
“Of the second I have no doubt.”
 
“I serve the people of the Imperium!” I say it without thinking, even though the words now ring hollow in my ears.
 
“How? By covering the Imperium in a thick layer of their blood so that further generations might be similarly sacrificed? By forcing cruel adherence to a false creed which denies the existence of the true gods, whose servants, you have been shown before? By butchering families whose only crime was giving birth to a child one step too far removed from your genetic normativity?
Who have you served?”
 
“I have served the High Lords…”
 
 
“Yes, and how have you served?”
 
“By killing their enemies.”
 
“Yes, the children of humanity, the truthspeakers, the innocent, and those too brave to be docile in the face of bureaucratic depravity. So who are the enemies of the High Lords”
 
Her meaning struck me with the finality of a guillotine. So many dead, all wearing the aquillas of the imperium, dead to preserve an empire of blood. Yet it is only ever more, there can be no end as long as humanity exists and denies the truth. It has to continue, “Humanity must be sacrificed so that the Imperium can be saved.”
 
“I offer a simple alternative, the Imperium must be sacrificed so that humanity might be saved. Even if the cost to humanity in the short term is longer. I’ll let you think a bit more, I will leave you with more to look at while you do so.” She stood with a jerk and walked calmly from the room, the vids beginning again, showing history and truth and fire.
 
---
The woman sits in front of me, clothes sharp and neat. I open my mouth to speak the only truth that I can now see, “I became a monster trying to save the Imperium from humanity. I must stay the monster in order to save humanity from the Imperium. Unchain me, and show me to the front.”
 
Saying nothing she rises and walks to me, everything so quiet I can hear the whirring of gears in her cybernetics as she unhooks my restraints. My long held limbs drop to the floor and she reaches down lifting my forehead to her lips. “Now rise, blessed by grace, and walk from this room reborn and repurposed. Speak the truth always, and never let unenlightened remain so.”

Edited by Teetengee, 08 June 2015 - 06:33 PM.

My Chaos WIP Thread (Bigger Pics and Foul Xenos offsite) Hall of Honour, My Storm Reavers (DIY SM Chapter) Story, My Chaos 7.5 Homebrew Codex Thread
In us burns a fire for vengeance that will only be quenched when we stand triumphant over the smoldering ruins of Terra. Our laughter on that day will haunt their survivors till the end of time. We will stride forth victorious through the shattered gates of their fortress, holding high aloft the defiled corpse of their rotting god as our prize.
Wulfkry, on 02 Jul 2013 - 3:38 PM, said: So an inquisitor is receiving SM implants using GK geneseed stolen off the fields of armageddon interesting..
Captain Semper, on 29 May 2015 - 4:10 AM, said: There is crazy and there is Teetengee crazy... ph34r.pngnuke.gif

Warsmith Aznable, on 30 Jan 2016 - 01:16 AM, said: 13. Teetengee wrote "Warp Born" and I won't even go into how disturbing the subject matter was.
The Psycho, on 26 Apr 2016 - 10:50 PM, said: That's either really disturbing or really cute, I haven't quite made up my mind yet.

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I'm not dead, and I like 8th better than 7th.


#245
Carrack

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Forever Damned

Spoiler


#246
Lord Pariah

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He had walked these halls before, but that was a different age. the recycling manufactorum on Shanxi was the first to be built by lunan hands on this colony, that was rewarded to them.

The rust held the memories of the countless years the facility remained active and those souls that tended the great beast. The captain of the 19th toured the hall once more, before. the rest of the legion decended on this place to corrupt the bastion with unholy signs.
The battle was won... yet the old wolf stalked these halls.

"They only send ores and ingots back to terra." the young primarch once explained to him, when he shown the xvi legion his pride and joy. "but metals and materials the ancients have made are wasted. so why not rebuild using the best material available." he swelled to the astartes.

"is it not cheaper to send such pure metals?" the warrior challenged.

"bah." he shrugged his low-grav frame and met the warrior with platinum eyes so indicative of his home, a homage to his genetic heritage. "only the soft concern with numbers, but with the scrap that pass back to solar, it takes Lunan guts to capitalize on that!"

the warrior chuckled. "buna forttrack Neilk"
the primarch's grin beamed recognition as the warrior spoke the ancient saying of Luna.


Now those words were embossed in silver above the control chamber, the wolf allowed a smile.

Only he was not alone. a girl, barely old enough to be called a woman moved across the controls franticly. she stopped and turned to the Wolf as he tapped the silver.

He knew what she was doing the instant he saw her, overloading the fusion reactor was not all too uncommon. he drew his pistol to fire until his eye caught something, something platinum.

She froze in fright as the monster turned the corner, she saw them come to her home and burn it to the ground.. she held only reason to keep her hand over the command node to dump the fuel in the reactor, sending it into overload.

"step away" the Wolf commanded in low-gothic, seeing too much of his home to open fire. she remained steadfast to him.
" step away from the console" repeated in high gothic as something stired inside. a memory?
"I beg of you, daughter of lunar, to see reason and step away." he ventured in the dialect of lunar, a quite efficient language.

She flinched at her native tongue and met him in her cold stare.
"Daemons speak in your language and bring damnation." she spoke in flawless lunan, as she twisted to slam down on the fuel console... Until a cough of a bolt round slammed into her, severing her arm.

The warrior felt regret for the fist time in millennia, not the petty regret of betrayal but of the bittersweet tones of guilt.
Should this woman have smiled, she would have been the image of home. Part of the same memories that held him through horrors, betrayal and the hell he now resides.

Those memories were corrupted when he saw the bloodied body before him, slouched against the console. at least her death was swift.
Those sacred memories were replaced by fire, by blood, by the rust and cold eyes that held only monsters in her gaze.

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#247
Lord Pariah

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Edit... Im surprised Im still allowed in here with my shocking disregard for remembering to read the full challenge

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#248
Kierdale

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Belief.

Man has always believed in something, from the ancients anthropomorphizing the sun, the moon and other heavenly bodies through the bloody religious wars of the millennia surrounding man’s first steps into the stars. Some utter in hushed voices that man was once freed from belief before the coming of the Emperor, but it is a foolhardy, heretical soul who makes such claims. Humanity is now, on the cusp of the 41st millennia, united in the worship of the Master of Mankind. Many sects - a great many across the countless stars of the Imperium - but nevertheless united in one belief, under one god.

Such a belief serves the heaving innumerable masses. Assuages their fears, provides an icon for their worship, a source of hope.

And it provides the Lords of Terra and the Ecclisiarchy with a means to maintain their iron grip on the reins of the Imperium.

But such a belief is not shared by the Astartes. Least not by all. Whilst the Black Templars have their zeal, such is not the case with us of the Stygian Guard, fellow sons of Dorn though we are.

Then what do we believe in? Two thoughts spring to mind.

Duty. Though our chaplains stripped our chapter of all trappings of custom and culture, pomp and circumstance - we have not a funeral dirge for the fallen nor celebration in victory - we have our duty. The mission is paramount and the Guard are willing to go to any lengths in order to fulfill it. Any lengths.

Pain. The one observance of our progenitor chapter - the Imperial Fists - which we have maintained is the nerve glove, also known as the pain glove. It is via this instrument that the Astartes of our chapter purify themselves. Desire, woe, confusion, elation…even pride?...all are stripped away to leave naught but duty.

What then could have caused us to sway from these binary precepts?

To be used, as the mindless weapon we made ourselves, by Terra. The dirtiest deeds thrown to the Stygian Guard: the Emperor’s ferrymen. Some say the tipping point was the Inquisition calling upon the entirety of the first company - the Bloody First - to quell the uprising on Cyprius III. The lack of honour. Respect...and in truth our gall at this was the first indication that the nerve glove had failed to strip pride from us entirely.

The pursuit of duty. Even when chapter master Sophusar summoned the rest of the chapter to Cyprius III, investigating the Bloody First’s disappearance and finding them Fallen, our commander ordered the pursuit of the mission: the quelling of the uprising, rather than dealing with our kin who had turned butchers. Our regular strategies, gleaned from seconding our chaplains over centuries to other chapters, failed against the madness of the cults of Cyprius III. Chaos cults. It was master of sanctity Angra who suggested that we adopt the tactics of our enemy as we had adopted those of our allies since our inception. It began with the scouts infiltrating the native cults. Their garb, their customs even down to the tattooing and piercing, were taken up by our infiltrators and soon appeared as trophies and more on other units. Terror tactics the likes of which harken back to the atrocities of certain traitorous legions of old whose names are now stricken from record. We lied to ourselves that it was duty, while the thrill of such sadistic acts was kindled within each of us.

To a babe who has supped naught but his mother’s milk, the juice of fruit is as ambrosia and to we who had denied ourselves all stimulation but pain, these new experiences - as we steadily delved deeper and lost control of ourselves - were the same.

Rather than being raised, their enemy’s temples were occupied. The heretics’ own tomes were soon being seized rather than burned, and from them we gleaned what ken we could of their dark arts. And used it against them.

Now, our mission complete, the enemy slain and the Bloody First shackled, we set sail for our homeworld of Fulcrum. We know that the deeds we have perpetrated are unforgivable, anathema to the Imperial way and the Codex Astartes. If - nay, when - our treachery is discovered, they will send executioners for our heads.

The Templars, likely.

The Wolves if we are unlucky.

And so master Sophusar prepares us. The next step, we are told, is direct contact with the servants of that Power we now adore. This new belief is yet young in our minds and I cannot yet bring myself to name it, for names have power and, while I hunger with a desire for excess, I dare not draw that Great Power’s attention so soon.

`I dare not`, I find myself thinking. Do I feel fear? The shackles of Imperial Doctrine no longer bind me and I find I do now know fear, a great fear which competes with the hunger for saturnalia...a hunger I can only hope to keep sated  to keep the fear at bay. To eclipse it with greater and greater pleasures.



#249
Rain

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He blinked.

 

He had seen dozens of such spectacles, dozens of vessels cracking apart like overdry wood, dozens of flares of plasma and nuclear fire as reactors went critical and spilled their searing blood into the void.

 

Yet he blinked.

 

Did he need to? Was it really his post-human eyes responding to the sudden and intense flash of light in an all too human biological foible? Or was it--

 

"Pity."

 

Crassus spoke with a curt, clipped tone. His words, always few in number, sounding as if they were spit from a mouth full of dust. He had known that Crassus was standing behind him since before the Champion spoke, the whine of Astartes plate accentuated by the low, indistinct murmurs that seemed to surround Crassus at all times. Crassus himself claimed to not hear them, though his head would occasionally tic to the side, as if responding to a call just at the edge of his senses.

 

"Pity Crassus? I would not have thought you familiar with the sentiment." Szadek responded evenly, his voice not betraying his obvious sarcasm, his eyes not leaving the disintegrating wreck as it rolled onto its side and began to separate into hundreds of constituent pieces.

 

"Not for them."

 

Szadek could hear Crassus's armor servos whine louder as he raised his hand to waive dismissively toward the slowly dispersing wreckage. The muttering voices seemed to quiet, as if allowing their host to speak.

 

"For the ship. We could have taken it. Ammunition, promethium, a damned ship. A waste. A pity."

 

Szadek furrowed his brow. Why hadn't he taken it? It was an Astartes Strike Cruiser, a ship of the line; and it would have made a fine addition to Lord Huron's fleet. And yet it was also an insult. A blasphemy, a curse upon the name of the Astral Claws.

 

"I remember her." He responded finally, lowering his eyes from the bridge viewport and running them over the milling human crew, as if inspecting them for laxity or incompetence.

 

"She was there Crassus. She was there at the sacking of Badab, the beat of our legacy."

 

Crassus, who was of Ultramarine stock and had only later joined the Corsairs after becoming stranded on a daemon world at the edge of the Maelstrom and slowly acquiring his ethereal entourage, only grunted.

 

"Is it foolish, do you think?" Szadek continued.

 

"Foolish to have pride in a dead chapter? A legacy of ashes?"

 

"Oh our legacy is ashes brother." Crassus actually chuckled as he spoke, a rarely witnessed sound that reminded Szadek of stones sliding down a mountainside. Crassus chuckled, and the voices chuckled with him.

 

"Ashes indeed brother! Bones and ashes." He raised his hand again and this time pointed straight out toward the now darkened debris.

 

"Bones and ashes! Theirs."

 

Szadek Katarr raised his eyes again. Yes Badab had burned, but in due time, so would Terra.


"I remember the day. The day the sky burned as the Dead Emperor's pet butchers descended on Old Badab to tear down all that we had built in His own name. It was in the final hours of that day that I scourged the wings from my breastplate forever. I remember the day. I remember, and so will they."

 

-Szadek Katarr, Warleader of the Red Corsairs

 

Angry Chaos Player™ since the dawn of Gav


#250
Tenebris

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Greetings and welcome to Inspirational Friday. This week, as promised, a frater will chose the winner so I will let arinhere's words speak for him:

 

I have decided that Carrack should win.  His story stayed within the limits of the challenge and also was very well written.  It was a close decision though.  I really liked Castellan Cato and his story of Nurgly goodness.  

 

I might even throw my hand into a future challenge as a writer.  Until I posted that picture, I had no idea this thread existed.

 

Step forth Carrack and claim your reward!

 

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I thank arinhere for his participation to Challenge the Traitors and for his awesome topic. I am really looking forward to read your contribution and let it be known that you are always welcome here in Inspirational Friday. 

 

Said that I have more news. I have posted the second Challenge the Traitors event in the Amicus area. Let us see who writes the best Chaos poem for he or she will indeed have some great topics in store for us. 

 

 

Inspirational Friday - 12/06/2015 - Chaos Sidekick

 

Every Chaos Lord has one, and no, I am not speaking of the Horus peluche and nor of the coffee mug with "I was on Terra" on it, no, what I am speaking of is of a slimy, unfortunate and totally awesome sidekick. 

 

One of the many perks of being a master villain is to have a horde of disposable minions at your beck and call, but there is this particular minion which is the favorite one of his master. For this week's Inspirational Friday I want you to write about this lowly sidekick and bonus points will be awarded if the sidekick is funny. 

 

Let us be inspired!

 

Tenebris


There is only the Truth. I do not know what it is, but I do believe in it!

Attributed to Dark Apostle Toren Mar, Chapter of the Broken Seal, 71st Host, Word Bearers Legion.

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