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Rapid Fire Challenge: Ending - February 2019


Race Bannon

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Clarification: this project is not "ending", it's just the topic. I thought "funeral" or "death" but they seemed bland upon further consideration and I don't want to funnel contributions into someone or thing dying, per se.
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The Fall of Aktosha

 

          ‘… oh, and of Aktosha, what else is there that one such as I could possibly say? Shining seas, warm suns, temples where we once could gather to pray – the grace of Isha transcribed into cities wrought from living stone! Though our children now could never understand, I remember the breath of the wind in the mountains and the flames of the fresh hearth driving winter before them… how can we forget the pride of our homeworld, the glorious conquests we made? The enemies we brought to heel before us, the civilizations we sculpted from the dust and ash, ‘till they were bound for glory in the stars? Now we flee to the depths of the galaxy, flee the depths of our own folly!

          Imagine, for but a single second, the sunrise over Ara-Cyriol, the City of Poets, where the greatest wordsmiths and speakers would gather to present their finest pieces. Every morning when the skyhawks first took to the air, the Syrkalla-Tabran’s bells would sound. The bells… a thousand lifetimes could pass me by, and I will never forget those soft chimes that signaled the beginning of a new day. The sound brought all of the traders into the streets, displaying their wares to one and all. There were paintings so exquisite that the hardiest of Khaine’s followers would have wept to behold them, garments woven of stardust and sable, jewelry of moonstone and wraithbone mixed with delicate precision. And all the while, as the traders sold their finest works of art in the streets, the poets would walk amongst them and speak freely on virtues and beauties, tragedies and sins. 

          Now all is cursed and ruined, though we still may walk the stars as we once did. The City of Poets is no more – the lights of Aktosha have been extinguished…

*** [Text is illegible] ***

          On the last evening, I looked back upon the Glass Forest as our ship hurtled for the skies. The crystal spires were burning, tainted with accursed unlight and cold pink flames. Before my very eyes, the forest was collapsing, shattering into a radiant kaleidoscope of colors. In the brief moments before destruction took hold, the forest was almost beautiful in its collapse. Something new was born in that whirling, twirling maelstrom of colors and flames, and something was lost to us all…

*** [Text is illegible] ***

            Alone, where once I was surrounded by my kind. Lost, when our greed for pleasure substantiated the cost. Dying, when the universe once sang to our tune. Falling, falling deeper into the abyss.

            Pity the Aeldari, the time has come to…’

 

[imperial translation of ‘The Fall of Aktosha,’ originally translated by Lord Inquisitor Ramses, M32. Inquisitorial Archives – keywords ‘Xenos,’ ‘Aeldari,’ ‘Eldar,’ ‘Crone World,’ ‘Slaanesh’]

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Beautiful work, Tarvek Val. Somewhat melodramatic, but as the POV is that of an Eldar/Aeldari, that's to be expected.

 

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it, getting all of the place names and the narrative voice down took a little bit of work - I've never written from an Aeldari perspective before. 

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Well here is my entry. Tarvek your entry was really good!

 

The Black Prison

 

It crashed upon the side of its prison, it whined in pain upon the impact. It could hear shouts and screams. All of these noises happening at once unsettled it, it clawed at the top of the prison. Screeching in anger. The shaking then came to a steady stop, the top opened revealing light. Blinking it could see the skies above were on fire, wreathed in an inferno. The skies were then obscured by one of its kin. It's metal eyes glinted. "Relax my boy, even though our planet is dying we will carry on. Be patient.” The top closed again shrouding him in darkness. 
 
It cried out, it desired freedom. The shuddering then continued, every so often he would rattle in his prison and the sounds of rapid explosions would envelop him. It reached to the top of its prison again and continued to claw at it, trying to work it’s claws through whatever was holding it here. It soon realised it was impossible to escape, steadily it attained that it had to wait for the right opportunity. 
 
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours. It listened carefully and ever so often the screams would rise and fall. Becoming distant with it’s kin a new need started to consume it’s body, the need to breed, to grow and to rise. The command was thumping within it’s mind again and again, those thoughts only stopped for a moment once it’s cage stop moving again. The top opened, the skies were still on fire. Like before it was obscured by it’s kin, blood now lined it’s face. “We are almost there, try to relax. I know you hate this.” His kin made a strange movement with it’s face. Strangely it found the gesture relaxing, it decided to curl up and wait like his kin asked. 
 
The top of his prison closed again. The rattling began again it caused a hiss to erupt from it’s mouth but it could feel a new purpose dawning upon it as well. Slowly the screams finally died. It could now hear the marching of many boots, the need to grow ravaged his form. The rattling stopped one more time and the hatch came open. It’s kin looked down to him again “you can come out.” His kin stepped back. 
 
It launched itself from it’s prison and looked around, the place he was now in was shaped like his prison but it was larger and there were lights as well. It’s gaze then fell upon a creature who was banging on a metal wall. The need to breed throbbed through his form, it’s maw opened and a long tongue came out with it.
 
It launched itself at the creature who twisted to it. It pinned the creature to the wall. It then used it’s tongue and stabbed the creature with it, pouring it’s genetic material into creature. 
 
Then he realised he was a herald to a new dawn and the harbinger that brings eternal night.
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  • 4 weeks later...
The boy sat staring at the screen, mesmerized by the moving picture.  Every minute the scene repeated, looped and had been playing for almost thirty minutes.  Behind him was the shift boss who entered only a few moments ago.  The boy barely registered the boss talking to the care-servitor, asking questions about the child’s welfare.  The boss only asked out of duty, worried his quotas would be negatively affected.  Hearing those words pulled the boy from the shock and he turned his head slowly to acknowledge the callousness of the shift boss’ concern.  Realizing the anger swelling inside him, tears filling his eyes, the boy jumped up and pushed between the pot-bellied man and the cold near-dead servitor.

 

+++

 

Abandoning his home, the boy was living off scraps and running out of options.  The boy tried to board a shuttle to leave the planet, to leave behind everything he had known, but mostly to leave the memories of living with his parents.  It had been a month since he watched them die on the pict-capture; the giant machinery exploding with a shard cutting them in half.  The replayed scene was seared in his brain and his anger had transformed into grim sadness over the days.  Before the shuttle lifted off, he was caught and brought before the Captain of the ship.

 

Grabbing the boy’s chin, the Captain slowly turned it side to side as he decided what to do.  The boy heard stories of trader captains taking on stowaways as slaves or extra labor as recompense for travel.  Yet, there were also stories of inhumane cruelty.  His persistent sadness gave him the courage to tempt fate but it also resigned him to whatever desires the Captain would have of the boy.

 

The Captain grunted and released the boy.  Snapping fingers had a servitor amble up to the boy and robotic arms grabbed the boy, forcing him from the bridge.

 

+++

 

The room was large and several hundred other youths milled around aimlessly.  Some spoke in hushed tones while the rest just looked around the blank walls.  In the center of the room was a circular dais half as tall as the gathered boys.  Everyone wore grey heavy leather tunics and it provided a modicum of warmth, even if it tugged on the skin.

 

Doors at wall opened and the ones nearby moved away.  The rest of the crowd looked to see who was entering gasps travels like a wave throughout the room.

 

The Chaplain strode through the crowd and anyone close enough seemed physically repulsed by an unseen hand.  Stomping onto the dais, several bones, human and animal, dangled or clinked ominously.  A large avian skull was fixed to the armored helmet, making the large Astartes uncomfortable to look at, yet everyone was compelled to stare.

 

Placing the head of his large mace to the floor, the Astartes calmly folded hands over the pommel.

 

“Life as you have known it has ended.”

 

---

 

Hidden Content
In like Flynn!

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Serasona cracked her phalanges in front of her, then rolled her shoulders back. It was time for the final movement. The pink-skinned, green-carapaced roaches that she had come to know as humans were moving on her position, and she did not intend to have her last concert here.

 

A splayed hand induced a low bass tone, carefully measured to cause discomfort in the aural ranges that these humans inhabited, though pleasant to her own audioceptors. The massive speaker array behind her began to quiver as it slowly came online, power looping into it for the final time that day.

 

Finger-twitches added a pair of heartbeat-like noises, slow and discordant, tried and tested to induce fear and confusion. Small spy scarabs observed and conveyed the declining morale to her, which prompted her to begin a slow buildup to a soul-screeching blast that she borrowed from the Doom Scythes.

 

And that, she saw, was the breaking blow, as predicted. The only issue she ever took with the Doom Scythe was that its engines would lead to retreats but not enemy deaths.

 

She, on the other hand, could finish an entire army with proper buildup to the end.

 

As the remnants of the human forces surrounded her, she brought her hands together and then swept them out to trigger a massive bass pulse that turned the bags of flesh to jelly.

 

She smiled internally. Her concert was complete, and so was this war.

 

And thus we have the introduction of Serasona, a necron sound Cryptek. She's only slightly insane, don't worry.

Also, I'm not overall that appy with this but I think it will do. A different prompt may have been a better choice, but I think it worked well enough. In any event it's the only idea I had, so that's what I wrote.

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