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Rapid Fire Challenge: Agitation - January 2021


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#1
Race Bannon

Race Bannon

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Prompt: Agitation

Maximum length: 500 words

Deadline: 31 January 2021 (Happy New Year btw ^_^)

Where to post submissions: In this thread

Note - please make sure all submissions adhere to the forum rules. Any entry that breaks one or more rules shall be removed.


  • Mazer Rackham likes this
"Fully dressed in the ancestral Terminator Armour of their Chapter they rise to a new level of battlefield supremacy, a level where monstrous tanks are but playthings of a child, and where Terminators, Daemons and gods stalk as equals." -Thunder and Lightning, White Dwarf 116 (UK)
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Index Astartes: Red Shoulders + Proudly lead farming since 8th edition +
Ferum Caelum - A Raven Guard One-shot

#2
Mazer Rackham

Mazer Rackham

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Abran Fuego, Scribe First Class, Lieutenant of The Upper Cloister and Holder of The Scroll of Memory, was sitting at his desk, the desk of his father and his father before him.  The vellum was scraped pristine by the serfs, and the quill - "never an autoquill Abran!" his father's shade wagged an ink stained finger at his son - was trimmed and ready.  The sharp scent of black haemosquid ichor stood in the room expectantly, but the pool in the well was undisturbed, and had been for nearly an hour.

 

The blankness of the script-canvas was galling him.  His fingers paralysed by the inactivity of his mind.  Both the parchment and his thoughts were blank, a strange and sweat0inducing harmony he could not dispel.

 

"Our heroic deeds are so insignificant, are they, that you squander the Emperor's good light?"

Abran Fuego, Scribe First Class, Lieutenant of The Upper Cloister and Holder of The Scroll of Memory, was sitting at his desk, the desk of his father and his father before him.  The vellum was scraped pristine by the serfs, and the quill - "never an autoquill Abran!" his father's shade wagged an ink stained finger at his son - was trimmed and ready.  The sharp scent of black haemosquid ichor stood in the room expectantly, but the pool in the well was undisturbed, and had been for nearly an hour.

 

The blankness of the script-canvas was galling him.  His fingers paralysed by the inactivity of his mind.  Both the parchment and his thoughts were blank, a strange and sweat0inducing harmony he could not dispel.

Abran had been too preoccupied to notice Chaplain Desato enter.  The huge warrior-monk stood now, enrobed in his heavy cassock of Jaraffa skin.  The chink of sunlight from the silver sun millions of leagues above Abran's desk was moving slowly, the window casting a shadow akin to a coffin lid shutting.

 

"Nay, lord.  I just do not know how to begin," he knew only honesty was sufficient - even if scourging may follow it, the Chaplain would respect it.

 

"Very well," Desato cleared his throat.  "It was a dark and stormy night, on the fourteenth eve of Sanctuside, when the Fire Sabres faced their doom..."

 

Abran snatched up his quill and daubed ink onto his blotter as the Chaplain's deep bass rumble threatened to outstrip his shaking hands.

 

It was enough to ignore the thump and whine of the Fortress Monastery artillery, replying in vain as they were being slowly destroyed by Chaos Titans.

 

MR.


  • Race Bannon, Brother Lunkhead, Urauloth and 1 other like this

=][= Deathwatch PBP Game =][=

Indexes:

IA: Scions of Gehenna IA: White Paladins

 

To no man, does the earth mean so much as to the soldier.

When he presses down against her, when he buries his face and his limbs from the fear of death by shell-fire, she is his only friend, his brother, his mother.

He stifles his terror with her security; she shelters him and releases him, only to receive him again and again.

And often, forever.

 

- All Quiet On The Western Front. (Abridged).

 


#3
Brother Lunkhead

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Nice one Brother Mazerthumbsup.gif


  • Race Bannon and Mazer Rackham like this

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#4
Mazer Rackham

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Nice one Brother Mazerthumbsup.gif

 

My thanks for the kind words, Brother Lunkhead - as always. thumbsup.gif

 

MR.


  • Race Bannon and Brother Lunkhead like this

=][= Deathwatch PBP Game =][=

Indexes:

IA: Scions of Gehenna IA: White Paladins

 

To no man, does the earth mean so much as to the soldier.

When he presses down against her, when he buries his face and his limbs from the fear of death by shell-fire, she is his only friend, his brother, his mother.

He stifles his terror with her security; she shelters him and releases him, only to receive him again and again.

And often, forever.

 

- All Quiet On The Western Front. (Abridged).

 





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