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++Inspiration Friday (Chaos Icons. Until 12/18)++

Inspiration Friday Chaos

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#151
EesiOh

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"Arren, please remind me again why we trifle with this filth"  Allesandro spat on one of the blue skinned Xenos corpses. "Because Khorne wishes it, you might be in command of your little party, but even you bow to Khorne" Arren snapped impatiently at the fuming Lord, "what you and the others of your ilk fail to realise again and again, is that blood magic is not the harnessing of the warp like the ways of the librarian, nor is it runic based like the Eldar and Space Wolves. It is not a power formed of collective conscience like the Tyrnaids or the Orks, it is, something greater" As he finished his sentence a long tongued protruded from the permanent darkness of the Haemomancer's ritualistic hooded robes, something he never took off. "Blood magic does not care about such trivial things as Daemons or the Immaterium, it is fuelled by death and blood" Allesandro clenched his fists, Arren Zhou was touched by Khorne, of that there was no doubt, but despite whatever past relationship they had, he had now become a lecturing prick. "That doesnt explain why we are here" Allesandro said spreading his arms to encompass the desolate battlefield, through the rubble and carnage Space Marines and Cultists of the Bloody Harvest looted what they could from bodies, while taking great pleasure in putting any surviving tau they found out of their misery. Arren ignored the irate wingleader and began pacing through the bodies, every now and then stooping down for a moment before moving on. When he looked back at the Marines trailing behind they were not at all surprised to see his robes were now caked in glistening Xenos blood. He continued walking until he found a spot he seemed to like. Beckoning to 5 idle space marines he bid them begin to lay the bodies out in a pattern.

 

Arren had chosen the Tau Ethereal to be his focus point for this ritual for multiple reasons, partly because the blood of a leader or commander was always seemingly richer than that of lesser subordinates, but also because the Ethereal had been the focus of the Tau defence, the most blood had been spilled there, and the most bodies remained. Slowly a pattern emerged, formed by the corpses of the Xenos. Allesandro knew not of the symbols nor their meaning, but new from the way his eyes began to hurt just by looking that despite the heamomancers growing arrogance and disobedience, he truly understood the art he practised. When all the bodies had been positioned Arren walked around the circle with his favoured tool. Arren had once told Allesandro the name of the knife but it had been so long and complex that Allesandro hadnt even bothered to try and learn it. The knife seemed to be forged from Obsidian, and yet blood constantly drenched the blade, no matter how the blade was treated it would continue to bleed. Allesandro didnt know whether this was by dint of Arren, or maybe something older and more powerful, but he also did not wish to know. He watched with silent intensity as the heamomancer walked from body to body, slitting the necks and wrists. Though the corpses had been dead many hours they once again began to bleed as freely as if their hearts were still pumping.  Finally Arren turned to one of the lead cultists and commanded him to step forward, the cultists did so eagerly, as if he had waited all his life for this moment.  Arren held the knife above the cultists head and let the blood run into the cultists mouth. The cultists lapped it up before closing his eyes and standing tock still.

 

Arren began to chant. A harsh tongue not of mankind, nor of daemonkind. The chanting rose in frenzy and in pitch, as Arren chanted a foul wind blew forth, summoned out thin air. The cultists began to contort violently and then, opening his mouth, the cultists screamed. Arren remained as he was, continuing his chant. Blood began to flow out of the cultist, from his eyes, noses, mouth, from his arms. Slowly the cultists was exsanguinated. The tainted blood of the knife, mixed with that of the Tau and the Cultists swirled towards Arren, dancing around his feet and lifting him into the air so that he rose on a pillar of blood. The wind howled and gained strength, a zephyr that carried with it the stench of death. Slowly the bodies of the Tau began to experience the same effects as the cultist had. Allesandro found himself taken aback by the sheer power that Arren was wielding. 'So much for a lecturing prick' Allesandro though to himself grimly. Even Nerus seemed somewhat uneasy with Arren's actions. The swirling blood formed a portal through which a hideous face appeared. As it materialised the pressure in the air intensified and Allesandro felt his ears pop, despite his Space Marine genealogy. Arren and the creature conversed for what seemed to be at least an hour before Arren seemed content. Shouting a single command, the wind died instantly and the blood poured from the sky as rain. Arren walked back to Allesandro, his hood was as impenetrable as always but deep in its recess twin pin-pricks of blood red glowed like coals. "even the Tau have their uses to one who knows" The heamomancer brushed past Allesandro and walked away.

 

(idk, I wrote it as it came out, still involves tau though? mirite? Also for the next challenge can we do the Life and Times of a Chaos Lord, coz i have a fun idea but no where to really put it)  


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The Archangels: Scions of Sanguinious striving for perfection

 

The Impure: Not even the transhuman physiology of the Space Marines can save you from the zombie plague

 

The Silent Laughter: The road to damnation is paved with the best intentions 

 

 

 

gallery_48988_6285_81894.pngI gallery_63428_7083_6894.png


#152
Kierdale

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A Sermon
Hidden Content



I originally intended for the above content to be shorter and then focus on the clash with the aliens, but when I reached the above point it seemed a good place to end it.



EesiOh, we had `Interview with a Chaos Lord` some time ago. While the chance to win the Octed Amulet reward ends each week (or two weeks) members are encouraged to post writing for past topics too. Just be sure to title it something along the lines of Interview with a Chaos Lord: The Life & Times of Chaos Lord Bob.
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#153
Teetengee

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Tau Negotiations

 

Hidden Content

Edited by Teetengee, 15 October 2015 - 06:45 PM.

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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.

gallery_48988_15465_38466.pngR9n4SPM.pngCall_of_Chaos_9_Medal_02.gifsml_gallery_29004_12090_4775.pngETL_Medal_04.giffriday-award.pngx9we_badge_teetengee.pnggallery_29004_10514_2007.jpggallery_29004_10514_234.jpggallery_48988_6285_1348.png

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


#154
Kierdale

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Thanks all for your entries on the topic of `The Primordial Annihilator versus the Greater Good`. We had a good selection of stories looking at the forces of Chaos clashing with the Tau for various reasons and in various ways.

 

Darkprincesnun told us of Word Bearers clashing with the Tau in a siege of one of the aliens’ own cities in The Slaughter of Gerivia, in order to unleash a greater daemon caged within the world.

 

Carrack’s legionnaires fought the Tau for the most pragmatic of reasons: water. I liked this piece as you found a good, basic reason for the attack upon the xenos. It wasn’t about corruption, blood, MacGuffins...simply that which is needed for survival. It also well described the warband’s boarding actions.

 

EesiOh gave us a lord of Chaos, Allesandro, and haemomancer Arren Zhou. I remember reading your posts in the Khornate sorcerers thread so it was good to see one in fiction. His warband had a good, Khornate reason for attacking the Tau: blood. For the Lord of Wrath cares not from whence it flows, only that it flows.

 

In Teetengee’s `Tau Negotiations` his chaos astartes tore into fire warriors at close range (a wise move, I’m sure all will agree), stealing xenotech and kidnapping one of their engineers. I particularly liked the descriptions of the squad’s mutations.

 

And I gave you a tale of the half-daemon dark apostle Angra of the Psychopomps confronting a Tau diplomatic party and causing an uprising on Generoth Prime with the intention of turning the survivors upon the xenos.

 

I think this week’s winner will come as no surprise...

Step forward Warsmith Aznable and claim your reward!

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This week wasn’t a hard one to choose! Though all entries had good aspects, different forms of confrontation with the Tau for varied reasons, the warsmith showed us not only the insidious nature of the alien but also how his warband goes about war on a great scale. The insight into the warsmith himself (the character), his beliefs and motivations (particularly with regard to He upon the Golden Throne) were particularly interesting. Then you go and throw in another intriguing character (in inquisitor Aleister Dashwood). Damn you biggrin.png

 

And here begins the next challenge...

Replenishments New Meat

How does your warband create new Astartes? Are potentials recruited from their squads of cultists? What form of gauntlet must they run in order to separate the wheat from the chaff? How have these newer recruits changed the warband? Where does the geneseed come from to create these new post-humans? How do these new marines cope with any mutated geneseed (as we looked at Aug 28th to Sept 4th)?

Are rival renegade marines captured and brainwashed/converted? Loyalist marines or scouts are turned?

How are the newly initiated trained? How is their loyalty ensured?

 

The challenge runs until October 23rd.

Let us be inspired...


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#155
Warsmith Aznable

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Step forward Warsmith Aznable and claim your reward!

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I claim this for Perturabo and the IV Legion!

 

the warsmith showed us not only the insidious nature of the alien but also how his warband goes about war on a great scale. The insight into the warsmith himself (the character), his beliefs and motivations (particularly with regard to He upon the Golden Throne) were particularly interesting. Then you go and throw in another intriguing character (in inquisitor Aleister Dashwood). Damn you biggrin.png

 

blush.png

 

Thanks so much, and I'm glad you enjoyed it! I'm sorry it was so long. Inquisitor Dashwood is definitely someone I want to detail more of, as well as the corruption of his surviving Kill Team members. Maybe I can work that into the next challenge.

 

How does your warband create new Astartes?

 

So many different ways...


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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."


#156
Carrack

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Keeper
Spoiler

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#157
Scourged

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I was very happy to see this week's topic. This is an idea I've been bouncing around for a while, so it was a lot of fun to put it to the page. But then I kept writing, and writing, and well... it got a bit lengthy. Jump to Part III if you are just looking to see how the Scourged acquire new members, but feel free to read it all for the full story.

 

A Gift Shared by All

(Or, How to Dedicate Yourself to the Scourged in Five Easy Steps!)

 

Phase I: Collection

Spoiler

 

Phase II: Preparation

Spoiler

 

Phase III: Initiation

Spoiler

 

Phase IV: Reistance

Spoiler

 

Phase V: Acceptance

Spoiler


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#158
Carrack

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So what did Salazar hear? You can't leave us hanging like that, it's just not fair. :)
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#159
EesiOh

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For the next challenge you know what would be fun? Writing about a dastardly duo style thing, of a time two of the by now notoriously well known warbands that haunt these regions teamed up to make loyalists cry, or maybe a time when two warbands fought each other? obviously it would require the permission of the other creator, but it could end up being some jolly good fun 


The Archangels: Scions of Sanguinious striving for perfection

 

The Impure: Not even the transhuman physiology of the Space Marines can save you from the zombie plague

 

The Silent Laughter: The road to damnation is paved with the best intentions 

 

 

 

gallery_48988_6285_81894.pngI gallery_63428_7083_6894.png


#160
Kierdale

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EesiOh, I'll add the suggestion to my list of IF ideas. It's a big list.
We've had collaborations before (Nemesis II) so it's certainly doable. And fun. I think we'd need two weeks for that.

As for next week, it's theme should be guessable, considering the time of year.

#161
Teetengee

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Part I: Trinit

Hidden Content

 

Part II: Accuser

Hidden Content

 

Part III: Kor'Sh'La the Honourless

Hidden Content

 

Part IV: Epsilon Seven Nine

Hidden Content

 

Part V: Sacrisan

Hidden Content


Edited by Teetengee, 22 October 2015 - 08:59 PM.

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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.

gallery_48988_15465_38466.pngR9n4SPM.pngCall_of_Chaos_9_Medal_02.gifsml_gallery_29004_12090_4775.pngETL_Medal_04.giffriday-award.pngx9we_badge_teetengee.pnggallery_29004_10514_2007.jpggallery_29004_10514_234.jpggallery_48988_6285_1348.png

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


#162
Scourged

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So what did Salazar hear? You can't leave us hanging like that, it's just not fair. smile.png

I can, and I will! biggrin.png Besides, nothing I could possibly come up with would ever make for a good enough ending. I tried a few ideas, and hated them all. None of you will ever know what Salazar heard, or if Telioch survives Tzeentch's Labyrinth, or any other cliffhanger I come up with. Muahahaha!devil.gif


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#163
Kierdale

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Of boy and beast
Hidden Content

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#164
Warsmith Aznable

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A Gift For A Gift

 

On a feudal world forgotten by time, the falling star was the omen that year's Harvest Festival would be special. Many did not believe, but it was tradition, and the folk gathered from miles around for the traditional "greeting of the gods" celebration as the sun went down on the day before. Even those superstitious few who did believe were surprised when the big men emerged from the forest, crunching through the autumn leaves amid the early evening mist.

 

They moved into the village in a solemn, funereal procession, cloaked in the colours of the turning season. They wore masks, both frightening and comical, just as the children of the villages made with careful excitement every year for the pre-Festival night of mischief. The dirge they sang was mournful and their movements were precise, and the villagers drew back with fear as they passed through the gates and beyond the walls.

 

They walked along the streets and among the people, and their stiff movements became exaggerated and capering, the lyrics of their funeral dirge gradually became replaced with the subversive, naughty versions that the children of the villages sang to each other when they believed the adults would not know.

 

Then came the gifts. Small, excellently crafted knives and other everyday tools of fine iron were pressed into the hands of the villager men. Delicate, decorative objects for the home, and articles of clothing that were sturdy yet pleasing to the eye were draped across the shoulders and arms of the women. The children received seasoned meats and candied fruit, expertly hand-crafted into comical versions of the baleful spirits said to roam the forests and haunt the barrows at this time of year. The hollowed out horn of a great beast was carried by one of the big, masked men, and he offered a pull of the warm, spicy drink to everyone who caught his eye.

 

The fear and trepidation of the villagers melted away, and they joined the big men in the processional dance. Long into the night, as the black of night and the orange glow of the bonfire in the village square fought back and forth for supremacy, the revelry continued with an increasingly fae and unearthly atmosphere.

 

When the daylight returned, so too did the fear of the old gods. The rich smelling earth was splashed with bright red blood, and the bones of freshly slaughtered beasts, scraps of muscle and tendon still clinging to them, were arranged in runic patterns in the grey, smoldering ashes of the previous night's bonfire. Four of the elders were found with their throats slashed, strung up in place of the scarecrows in the corn fields just outside the village walls. When the grieving villagers tried to remove them, they saw the damning mutations that the old men had defied the common law to hide, and left them to rot.

 

The wailing of a dozen women confirmed the worst in the minds of the villagers. Children were missing. Smart lads, strong lads, those who had just begun to hunt with their fathers. Their mothers had found nothing of them that morning but their discarded masks and bags of uneaten treats. Each family of a missing boy had a mark upon their door, painted in blood, and forty-nine pieces of silver laid at the entrance.

 

So the tales had come down through the generations, and so they would carry on for generations, but who that had not been there that night would believe such tales meant to frighten the young?


Edited by Warsmith Aznable, 22 October 2015 - 04:28 PM.

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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.

gallery_29004_9303_844.pnggallery_53134_9839_10377.jpggallery_53134_9839_46080.jpggallery_53134_9839_9398.jpggallery_29004_9303_844.png

"Three times faster than the usual Warsmith."


#165
Teetengee

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I can't wait to read everyones, I still have 2 parts left to go on mine though, so I won't have time until after the judging session.

EDIT: DONE!


Edited by Teetengee, 22 October 2015 - 08:59 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.

gallery_48988_15465_38466.pngR9n4SPM.pngCall_of_Chaos_9_Medal_02.gifsml_gallery_29004_12090_4775.pngETL_Medal_04.giffriday-award.pngx9we_badge_teetengee.pnggallery_29004_10514_2007.jpggallery_29004_10514_234.jpggallery_48988_6285_1348.png

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


#166
Thedarkprincesnun

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The New Retribution
Sarkal stood there pus streaming down from his eye socket. His armour rusted and coroded yet you could still see the green beneath it. His left arm held a gaping wound were.once had been a shoulder pad but now the decay had.eaten it away and eaten through flesh muscle.and bone. In his right hand he held his force sword a dark blade with entropy running along it. On his back was a dark brown bamner made from the hide of a xeno beast at the top.of it was 3 human skulls joined together.

It had beem 7 days previously.that they had assaulted the world of Tertias V. Their objective had been to assault the cities which contained orphanages, to steal the orphans from within and murder all the nurses and nuns who looked after the children within. That however had only beem part of the plan, through all the decay and entropy the grand father had sent him a vison which showed him that if he sent 70 cultists to the world they would be able to assault the hospitals of the world and steal the new borns within.

He chuckled at the rather cruel memory of the vison, once he had hope that things would be different that the imperium of man could survive. Yet on the rotten world of Viloria the cult priests there had shown him.differently and while he ordered his brothers to slaughter them as they layed him low with a foul plague he began to feel the plague infect him and awaken his psychic powers further than they had before. All he had to do was give himself to the Grandfather and he would become immune to the pain.

a smile came across his face as he remembered those days. The awakening which had been given to him and then the majority of the rest of the chapter would soon be given to those they had stolen off the world below.
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#167
EesiOh

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I decided to abstain from this weeks challenge as I could not find a way to make any of my numerous chaos aligned forces have a truly unique recruiting drive. As such I decided it would be more noble to post nothing rather than bore you with my lack of creativity :P

cant wait to see the new challenge though 


The Archangels: Scions of Sanguinious striving for perfection

 

The Impure: Not even the transhuman physiology of the Space Marines can save you from the zombie plague

 

The Silent Laughter: The road to damnation is paved with the best intentions 

 

 

 

gallery_48988_6285_81894.pngI gallery_63428_7083_6894.png


#168
Teetengee

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All I will say on Salazar's beautiful story: Empire of Ultramar.

Also, I really love the mix of themes going through Aznables.


Edited by Teetengee, 23 October 2015 - 01:51 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.

gallery_48988_15465_38466.pngR9n4SPM.pngCall_of_Chaos_9_Medal_02.gifsml_gallery_29004_12090_4775.pngETL_Medal_04.giffriday-award.pngx9we_badge_teetengee.pnggallery_29004_10514_2007.jpggallery_29004_10514_234.jpggallery_48988_6285_1348.png

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


#169
Kierdale

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Thanks all for your entries on the topic of `Replenishments (AKA New Meat)`. We had some excellent entries, detailing the creation of renegade astartes from mortal humans (and an abhuman, possibly) and the turning of loyal sons of the Emperor.

 

Carrack gave us the story of Puppy Spit, who left his tribe to become a man and upon returning became that much more: Keeper of the Black Maw. A good, solid story showing that the Black Maw made its own renegade astartes as well as turning loyalists, and gave us an insight into the trials the former go through.

 

Scourged told us an excellent story of Praetors of Orpheus lured aboard an abandoned cruiser only to be abducted by daemonic servants of the Scourged and, stripped of their armour and weapons, they were exposed to all the lies in the galaxy, by the corrupt chaplain Sinschal’ul Bhuramas. I found the way Bhuramas turned the loyalists to be extremely good, that not all turned was a good touch, and the untold secret discovered by Salazar, that really was the icing on the cake.

 

Teetengee gave us the story of not one, not two nor three but four converts to the Tide of Blood! A cultist facing an alien(?) monster, a loyalist astarte, a rival chaos space marine beaten and offered a position within the warband and finally a combat automata.

 

Warsmith Aznable’s A gift for a gift was an excellent tale of unnamed astartes descending upon a low-tech settlement, joining their harvest festival to hand out gifts to both the old and the young only to by dawn string up any mutants they found and abduct the strongest lads, leaving silver pieces in payment.

 

I told you of a youth taken from his noble father by cultists in payment for introducing the senior to darker and baser acts, and of a young Slaangor tribesman whom one of the Psychopomps insisted be subjected to the processes which create an astartes. Whether either survived we may someday see...

 

And finally in Thedarkprincesnun’s The New Retribution we read of astartes loyal to grandfather Nurgle assaulting the world of Tertias IV not for conquest but in order to raid orphanages and steal away the young within.

 

And now to choose our winner for this week. Firstly I’d like to say that length does not necessarily mean quality, though I fully understand that sometimes one simply cannot get all those ideas out satisfactorily without going into several pages of A4 (some of my own mammoth IF entries last year were probably hell for poor Tenebris to read!). Our winner’s entry was long, but I do not feel that a single word was wasted for each helped to build up the story and make it more believable.

Step forward Scourged and claim your reward!

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Warsmith Aznable’s entry was a most timely one with its harvest festival, for here begins the next challenge...

 

Chaos Halloween

It is that time of year again and, while the 31st will not fall within this week, I’d like to see everyone’s horror-themed entries this week. Last year we had some excellent pieces. So come on, scare me. biggrin.png

 

The challenge runs until October 30th.

Let us be inspired horrified...devil.gif 


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#170
Kierdale

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???????

 

Kretham cursed as he slid down the slope of rubble within the ruined manufactorum and knocked Nerop from his perch. The heavy bolter gunner cursed his squadmate’s poor footing and the two pulled themselves to their feet and resumed their positions, Kretham almost slipping again and finally moving along to a section of balcony where footing was better. Zenetar, the squad’s leader, cursed under his breath and went back to keeping his vigil over the street outside. The squad weren’t to move unless it was essential. Their position had been designated as an objective and it wouldn’t please the commander if Zenetar and his men retreated.

Intel indicated there was a small force of Eldar out there; not only craftworlders but also their darker, piratical kin. He cursed again that his squad had to face such a dangerous combination. Still, his squad and the other Black Legionnaires were a force forged in battle. How could veterans of the Long War fail against the degenerate xenos foe?

A third curse was directed at the fog which cloaked the battlefield and kept visibility down to less than a hundred meters. The sky too was hidden behind mist and a few times now the legionnaires had glimpsed huge, dark shadows moving though the mists. Eldar titans? He shuddered at the thought and cursed his commander. This was supposed to be a small mission, nothing on such an apocalyptic scale. He gave a prayer to the Chaos Gods, though wished it was one of them as much as he wished for Eldar titans. Where the Gods directed their attention was likely to be a very dangerous place indeed...

There was movement across and up the street accompanied by the hum of a skimmer and the renegade marines could see, through the ruins, a wave serpent settling down and seconds later a squad of Dire Avengers were disgorged, taking up positions within the ruins. The skimmer still had its energy field up; the swirling shield would be proof against almost anything the squad could throw against it. Penetrating its armour would be impossible.

Zenetar swore again when, as anticipated, the wave serpent peppered their position with scatter laser fire before unleashing its field: the wave of power ripping across the street toward them, ignoring the cover of their ruins. kretham had been closest and though his armour held against the first few hits, it soon buckled and before he knew it Kretham and Nerop were dead on their backs. He knew he should have positioned the heavy bolter gunner further back! Thanks only to Zenetar’s leadership the squad held position.

Then it was the turn of the Chaos space marines to go on the offensive.

Zenetar looked as one of the warband’s squads of Havocs fired upon the Eldar transport with their lascannons to no avail. Losing his cool, Zenetar swore to the heavens, for surely the warband had been cursed, “Die, Gods!”

He flexed his powerfist and momentarily doubted the commander’s wisdom in having armed him with it, for he was powerful enough to kill the xenos without it, and with the clumbersome gauntlet he would be striking after them no matter what.

With an angry roar and the clunk of his high back-banner catching on the doorframe he led his remaining squad mates out of the building and into the street. It was only lightly scattered with debris but somehow they found the going tough and barely made it a few meters before the Eldar seemed to be moving again. The Dire Avengers, confident that their transport could finish Zenetar’s squad, diverted their attention to the Havocs, dashing out into the street before unleashing a volley of shurikens from their catapults and then, like the swift bastards they were, retreating back into the building they had come from.

Zenetar hung his head as the wave serpent fired once more. He did not even try to go to ground, knowing seeking cover to be fruitless. As the hits piled up on him and his squad it was as if the heavy weights of fate fell about them and he looked up, his body broken, his armour shattered, as a great hand descended through the clouds and through the mist. The Gods had found him wanting and had come for him.

He cried out at the injustice of the galaxy as he was lifted, and screamed as he was placed back within his cell of foam.

 

 

 

Okay, so that wasn't a particularly serious one tongue.png. Still, any suggestions for a good name will be considered smile.png


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#171
Thedarkprincesnun

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the heart of chaos
Deep.within the great eye there is a legend, that somewhere within its never ending mysteries, among the endless sea of souls and those damned by turning to the dark gods. Those same very souls which fuel the never born. Among all of this chaos is rumored to be a place at the heart of all chaos.

It is said that here within this maelstrom of torment death despair and change that any "fortunate " soul who finds its way here will suffer the most unimaginable horrors from the dark wastes where souls will be torn apart by mechanical terrors to the den of woe where putrid beasts of nurgle reside. Further still to the cursed fields where those unfortunate souls who reach here will be torn apart tortured and slowly devoured by the dark prince. Even the daemons of the other dark gods do not wish to end up here for these fields are so cursed that some believe even the greatest of the greater daemons would not be able to escape.

Even more horryfying is the twisted canopies of Svalgar. Here the trees twisted by the power of change to many who make it here they feel it is a safe haven for the followers of the lord of change however while it is by the great emchanters power that this forest first became so twisted the daemons of nurgle.habe begun to infest the forest causing it to.slowly.die away.

While those souls devoted to the changer would be tormented by so many differing versions of the future, visons of things which may come or could of come to pass the forces of the great grandfather nail those souls unfortunate to come into the neck of the woods to the trees leaving them to.slowly rot and fade away. Those who have a strong enough will to survive suffer a much worse fate for they can never find no release.

The final part of the legendary heart of chaos is the killing ground. Once the realm of a ancient warlord upon his ascension to Daemonhood his kingdom was dragged directly into the warp. For millenia it floated through the realm.of chaos, not only the forces of the gods battling over it but the forces of that warlord seeking to reclaim their land. Eventually it ended up within the heart of chaos and became part of it. Now as each day dawns in the materium a new battle begins on the killing lands those slain.previously rise again many of them missing limbs some even missing their head. Each day they rise to battle once more even those daemons of the other dark.gods find themselves forced to.rise again and fight for the Blood Gods pleasure.

Even more horrifying if that was even possible is the fact that on the day some call saimhain, on other worlds known as All Hallows Eve or on some worlds simply as Halloween the day when the veil between the warp and reality any world unfortunate enough to be caught in the pull of one of the 4 areas will find their world umder daemonic assault. These incursions are prehaps the most horrifying due to the fact that the daemons which pour forth from.the warp will.inflict the cruellest most unimaginable horrors onto.any world unfortunate enough to have them.unleashed up on it.
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#172
Carrack

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Halloween gets a Chaos Challenge, yet what about Mother's Day? Surely they have cards, flowers, and brunch in the Eye of Terror.

A Mother's Love

Spoiler

Edited by Carrack, 23 October 2015 - 11:05 PM.

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#173
EesiOh

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Halloween gets a Chaos Challenge, yet what about Mother's Day? Surely they have cards, flowers, and brunch in the Eye of Terror.

A Mother's Love

Spoiler

pretty sure using bits from your Assault On Calebra Hive story is cheating :P 


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The Archangels: Scions of Sanguinious striving for perfection

 

The Impure: Not even the transhuman physiology of the Space Marines can save you from the zombie plague

 

The Silent Laughter: The road to damnation is paved with the best intentions 

 

 

 

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#174
Warsmith Aznable

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Meat for the Table

 

Hidden Content

 

For visual reference, see this entry in my project log.


Edited by Warsmith Aznable, 24 October 2015 - 04:21 AM.

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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."


#175
Dammeron

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Abandon

 

 

Abandon

 

“You are...exquisite.”

 

Ecstasy, excoriation; acid pumping through his veins, actinic pain searing nerves, skin torn and re-sewn like fabric, flesh sculpted like clay. He was canvas; the one he called Father the artist; more inspired than any in the long, futile history of humanity.

 

Chemicals of alien conception surged through his system, enhancing sensation, allowing him to see and hear and feel in ways that not even The Living Art's blessings had yet equalled. The chains and flesh-hooks threaded through his arms, shoulders and back; the stretched-taught extremis of his own skin...pain beyond all dream or desire, his surrender to it; the sweet violation, a fertilising rain upon the garden of his mind, contexts proliferating like weeds with every new burn or cut; every fresh experience. Transcendence through transgression...the core of his new creed; a path to perfect disgrace; a state to which precious few even amongst the Angels had aspired.

 

The Father sifted through a state of fluttering light and shadow; a ragged phantom caught up on metaphysical currents. Its alien anatomy would have been slight compared to his own even were it not for the surgery and self-sculpting it had clearly experienced. Now it almost resembled certain boneless, deep-sea lifeforms he'd encountered during his abandoned life:

 

A vaguely humanoid figure, stretched and distorted; limbs over-long, many-jointed, as though it had spider somewhere in its ancestry, a waist so attenuated it looked to have been surgically emptied of all contents then stapled closed, the wound through which evacuation had occurred displayed and somehow still raw on its naked midriff. Skirts and robes of various material -silk, leather, skin- swirled around its androgynous form, stitched and threaded through its skin along with a variety of jewellery, hooks and chains, their broken-mirror music inspired by currents that Galathos couldn't feel. Multiple limbs extended from its back and shoulders, each strung with numerous vials and containers; instruments and hypodermics, devices that seemed to be partly mechanical, partly flesh, grafted to its frame, pumping and refining the alien blood that was the basis for an array of chemicals and narcotics; the same that it now generously shared with him, his blood irrevocably tainted, the part of him that still refused enlightenment screaming and writhing at the pollution.

 

Similar devices had been grafted into Galathos's own anatomy, though somewhat different in design; nowhere near as elegant or intricate; fitting for one of his low-born species. The Fathers had been fountains of enlightenment, vessels of inspiration, long before The Living Art even came to be. If myth were to be believed, it was their pain, their transgressions, that had originally seeded it within the Warp. Galathos shuddered at the very notion; to be beneath the knives of one that had fostered The Lord of Excess itself...a boon beyond comprehension; almost beyond endurance.

 

Each of the Father's spindly arms terminated in an array of surgical instruments; splinter-fine scalpels and delicate hypodermics, serrated bone saws and butcher's blades. Some seemed to be almost organic in origin; clusters of sea-urchin spines or fanged, fleshy flowers, like a snake's gaping maw. From its back swelled a fleshy hump; a mass of pulsating tumours from which erupted living growths that resembled spiked antlers, the entire structure strung with various jars and containers in which vestigial organs and foetal forms swam.

 

Galathos had heard tales of the Fathers from those who'd already come under their knives. Unlike most who'd earned the communion, he was not one of the Phoenician's sons. No; his blood, his flesh, was tainted by its ancestry, derived from one he'd learned to hate more deeply than the Corpse on Terra to which he'd been enslaved.

 

Guilliman.

 

The name alone was enough to have him cry out, begging for whatever flagellation the Father could provide. He would punish his flesh for its disease, its weakness; would rip and scald and sear until it was worthy of a place amongst the Angels.

 

The Father, apparently scenting his ardour, drifted close; close enough for him to smell the blood and incense musk of it; the sweetness of vanilla and alien spice that rode every breath:

 

“Eager, child? I taste it; your desire, your self-disgust. They are...wondrous to me. Allow me to indulge you...”

 

A half-masked face, the strange, mirror-like material obscuring it swimming with ephemeral shapes and colours, the rest a mass of elaborate scar tissue; flesh carved with the deliberation of an artist's hand, barely allowed to heal, whorls and ridges that formed poetic testament to the trauma of their own recording.

 

Something sloped down from the seething shadows above at the Father's summons; a slick, snake-like length laced with skirts of chemical-smelling matter. The Father took hold of it in a delicate talon, its bulbous head blooming, layers peeling back to reveal an array of cobra-like fangs, the amber fluid they seeped smouldering as it trailed to the dungeon floor.

 

Galathos gasped at the sight of it, biting deep into the charred mass of his own tongue to keep from begging.

 

“Is this what you wish for, child? Is this the game you would have us play?”

 

He gurgled an affirmative despite himself, unable to shape a more articulate reply.

 

The scar tissue split and peeled back, revealing a sickle moon grin. “From the mouths of babes.”

 

Pain followed, along with delight sufficient to untether his soul and set it amongst the stars, soaring and tumbling through their furnace hearts, riding the never-ending birthing pangs of reality itself.


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"We are not your enemies, child; we seek only to break the chains that bind you; to enlighten you as to the true beauty of being. Those that stand at your back, herding you onto our blades...those that would see you expire in blood and dirt; they are your enemies, and have been since the moment you were conceived..."

- Attributed to La'sai DeSandros, agitator of the Del Torro Profligacy, also known as He of The Sweetest Cut, The Lord of Embraces, arch-heretic of the Severed Angels renegades:                                                                                                          

http://www.bolterand...howtopic=268514            gallery_63428_7083_6894.png                   gallery_29004_9303_2650.png

The Strange Playgrounds:

 

http://www.strangeplaygrounds.com/






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