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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Evening, gents! Time now for our bi-weekly journey into the what-ifs of the Warhammer High universe.

Someone else.'s past contributions:








Ahriman's Aide's past contributions:

DarkMage's past contributions:

All right, off we go.

Previously on ROAD TRIP!, Venus, Freya, and Remilia went rock climbing, while Alex and Jake dicuss things with their guide and protector, Hasskald, who has just torn off into the woods after a deer.

Previously on Trip Into Hell, Julius had gone into hiding under the city, Ahriman was fighting greenskins on the city walls, and Horus was musing what forces to dispatch in reinforcement.

Previously on DarkMage's channel, nothing was happening because his story concluded. :V
The group climbed in silence for a few more minutes, as Jake watched Hasskald disappear in the distance. Their host reached the treeline and vanished like smoke at nightfall. “Glad he’s on our side,” Jake muttered.
“No shit. Even Freya’s not that fast,” Alex said.
“Did you notice how they call her ‘Sister’ here? On Nocturne, the Salamanders called Venus ‘Princess,’” Jake observed.
“Different world, man. The Wolves have a pack mentality. She’s probably more like a little sister than a ruler to them,” Alex pointed out.
Jake thought that over and smiled. “Which, on reflection, is adorable.”
Alex shoved him in the shoulder. “Dude, shut up, she’s going to murder us both.”
“She can’t hear us from here,” Jake said dismissively.
“Can Hasskald?” Alex asked pointedly.
Jake hesitated. “I…don’t know.”
“Neither do I,” Alex growled. “So keep that ‘adorable’ stuff to yourself, huh?”
“Sure, sure,” Jake said with a laugh.
Faith is best daughter
Freya bounded up the last meter of the pillar and scrambled to the peak. She grinned from ear to ear in the rising wind, holding her fists over her head in triumph. “FUCK YEAH!” she crowed, panting in the freezing wind.
Her collar crackled. “Did you make it to the top?” Remilia asked.
“Sure did!” Freya said happily, pumping her fist over her red mane.
“What took you so long?” Venus asked. Freya turned to her cousin’s pillar to see her sitting, cross-legged and smirking.
“You…you beat me up?” Freya asked.
“No, I actually got up here while you were dancing around on your pillar,” Venus admitted. “Now. How the hell do you get back down?” she asked, glancing around.
“Oh. Uh, just head back down the line, and remove the spikes as you go,” Freya said. “Use the claw.”
“But, you know, take a holo or something! We just climbed a basalt pillar, celebrate a bit!” Freya said.
Venus tapped her waist. “I’m recording this, trust me.”
“Oh.” Freya squinted and spotted the tiny holocam Venus had snugged in her bag. Freya sank back down onto the edge of the pillar to wait for Remilia to finish. “Have you climbed before?” Freya asked.
“All the time, in the Public Center in Startseite, just not as part of a school thing,” Venus said. “This is my first outdoor climb.” She grinned across the gap between pillars as Remilia’s blond hair emerged from behind one of them. “Remilia, this was a great idea.”
“Thanks,” Remilia huffed, clambering up the last few steps. “Where’s Alex?”
“He bailed, his hands were freezing,” Freya said.
Their radios crackled. “You all made it?” Jake asked.

Unrelated, but who is that supposed to be in OP's pic?
Trying to clear my suspicion.
sweet, whh is back!

>captcha, what's an electric dedlerke?
Venus, Daughter of the Forge, Lady Primarch of XVIII Legion.
“Was there ever a doubt in your mind?” Freya asked cheerfully.
“No,” Jake admitted.
Venus paused to snap another holo before grabbing a piece of rock by top of her line of spikes. “I’m coming back down,” she said.
“All right, we’re not going anywhere,” Jake said. “I could start reciting lines from the movie we watched last night, to speed your descent,” he suggested.
“Sure, that’d be great,” Venus deadpanned.
Jake hesitated. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked over the radio.
“Of course.” She gripped the top handhold and eased herself down. “Hasskald still MIA?”
“Yeah, he’s off in the woods,” Alex said, shielding his eyes against the glare.
Freya started back down as Remilia paused to drink from her insulated water bottle. “Let him, he’s probably just hunting.”
“Ah, here he comes,” Alex said, spotting a flash of blue armor in the treeline.
“And…he’s bringing lunch, I see,” Jake added for the girls. Indeed, the Hunter had a deer draped over his shoulder.
“Oh my god, seriously?” Freya groaned.
“Yyyep. Big fucking deer.” Jake stared. “This will be an educational meal.”
“Not if I can help it,” Freya muttered. “Unless…unless you guys actually WANT to watch a Space Wolf disembowel and devour a fucking deer what the FUCK am I saying, I need to get down there,” Freya said, descending her pillar as fast as she dared.
“Hang on, he’s stopping,” Alex said. “He’s just putting it down.”
“Wait, is he looking around for something on the ground?” Freya asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Jake reported.
Freya sighed in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. Never mind, we’re clear.”
“What is he doing?” Alex asked.
I'm off for a few hours. Ahriman will take over for now.
SE has to leave for a while, so you have to suffer my story for the next few hours. I hope I have a few fans around here.

Let's get this moveable feast underway!
Twenty-eight days later. Twenty-eight days of war and siege, since the Hulk came down and the skies ran with fire. Ahriman stood upon the inner walls, watching the smog clouding the lower city, and knew another attack was imminent. He could feel the psychic tempest generated by the Orks being whipped into a renewed frenzy, a sure sign the Orks were up to something. After nearly a month of constant conflict, he had grown used to how the Ork Psy-Field worked, and had learned a myriad of ways to use it to his advantage. He could tell when the Orks were massing for an assault, fighting amongst themselves, or trying to sneak up on the walls, and react appropriately.

The outer city before him was in ruins, pounded by Ork and now Imperial Artillery. Any buildings too close to the inner wall had been levelled to deny the Orks cover, leaving twisted piles of metal and plascrete where they had once stood. Were Ahriman human, he could have wept at how the once beautiful city had fallen. But he wasn’t. He was Astartes; his only goal was holding out and killing as many Orks as possible.
Imperial casualties had been light considering the constant state of siege, but another five thousand had died in the twenty-three days since the outer walls had come tumbling down under the fury of the Rok. Since the Orks had come, twelve thousand Imperial Soldiers and PDF Troopers had given their lives to defend the planet. And still there was no word of the impending relief, no clue yet as to their salvation.

“They on the way?” Commissar Lord Günter asked laconically, resting on the haft of his Chainsword. He’d healed of his injury defending the breach, and had been in the thick of it for the past few weeks. There was a nasty burn on his left arm from when his Plasma Pistol had overheated and damn near exploded during one engagement, and a scar across his ankle where a sneaky Grot had tried to hamstring him. Ahriman had fought alongside humans before, but none had won his respect like this one. He was fearless, devoted to his men, and had not yet executed a single soldier for cowardice, for none of his men had ever let him down.

Ahriman nodded, and gestured with his heqa staff. In the distance they could see shapes as Orks tried to creep as close to the walls as possible. They could try, but none could escape Ahriman’s aethersight.
what do you mean, suffer through your story, AA? i thought you were going to post more of trip in to hell?
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“Before we get in the thick of it, there was another explosion in the outer city yesterday afternoon my lord. Sector G this time.”

Ahriman had noticed the first explosion twelve days into the siege, a small blast on one of the side roads. It was only later he learned that an Ork Convoy carrying war material had been destroyed in that blast. Since then there had been fourteen further incidents in the outer city, of Ork convoys being attacked and destroyed behind Ork lines. There was no doubting it; there were humans out there, a resistance movement operating behind Ork lines. How they had been left behind Ahriman didn’t know, he’d checked the casualty reports thoroughly, and there were none reported missing, but they were there, and trying to help the troops on the wall. There was nothing he could do for them here; he had tried to make contact to no avail, and the Orks had thwarted their attempts to make a supply drop. All he could do was hope that whoever the poor, brave bastards were, they were safe and well. There would be plenty of medals for them, if they survived of course. Fat chance of that.

“Here they come again!” the yell echoed across the walls, and the weary defenders prepared for another blistering moment of bloodshed. Artillery and Mortar bombs began to fall in a shrieking rain of steel as the Orks poured forth, some carrying rickety ladders, others with grappling claws and ropes. They were met by a torrent of las-fire, Heavy Bolter rounds, Missiles and Autocannon shells as the defenders poured it upon them. However as they had now learnt, not even that much fire could keep the Orks at bay for long.
There was a faint shriek growing steadily stronger as Ork Aircraft swooped in for the kill. With the outer walls and their AA Autocannons silenced, enemy aircraft were free to raid the city, which they did infrequently. The Caorstian Hydras which supplied the only air cover opened up, and several of the Ork aircraft came down in flames. The others dropped their loads haphazardly, some missing by miles, while a few met their mark and chipped at the walls and the men upon them. As fast as they appeared they were gone, roaring off pursued by the chatter of Autocannon fire.

All across the walls, rappelling lines were flung up and Orks began yet another attempt to storm the walls. The inner walls were low enough and sloped enough to allow the Orks the chance to scale them, a foolish design flaw the Imperials were now paying for. All over the walls scaling parties swarmed up them, towards the bayonets of the Imperial Defenders. Several grappling hooks clattered onto the battlements where Ahriman was standing, and the Tanith troopers around him drew their ‘Straight Silver’ bayonets in unison. Commissar Günter drew and prepped his Plasma Pistol, and Ahriman did likewise with his Bolt Pistol.
Ahriman incinerated the first two to come over with balls of aether fire from his gauntlets, blew the third one’s head off with his bolt pistol, and cut the fourth in half with his heqa staff. After that it all blurred into one, the fluidity of combat flowing like a river, with himself as the pebble which altered the rivers flow. He could feel every Ork as the climbed up, know their every move before they made it, and kill them before they realised who they were fighting.
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Arrival on Nocturne. Sorry, Someone else. I can't keep it serious or very close to text.
As he flew and slew, gliding across the battlements like a force of nature leaving nothing but dead Orks in his wake, a new Ork clambered up to meet him. This one was immense, one arm encased in a power claw, the other clutching a big shoota with a chainblade attachment. A Warboss, one of the Warlord’s many Lieutenants, overseeing the effort in person. It levelled the big shoota and unleashed a fusillade of fat stubby bullets, cutting several Tanith Troopers down and throwing Ahriman off his feet.

As Ahriman struggled to get up the warboss swung at him with its claw, missing him by inches. Again and again it tried to strike him, and again and again he dodged them. He couldn’t find a space to strike back, and the flow of time was too twisted for him to do anything about it aetherically. Finally he was smashed flat by a well placed blow, and the Ork raised its claw for a final strike.

Before Ahriman could do anything, Commissar Günter put himself between Ahriman and the Warboss, pistol raised. The Plasma Pistol shot sank into the beast’s shoulder, melting the armoured plate with a loud hiss and throwing it off balance. But the Ork shrugged off the shot and slashed at him with the claw.

He should have seen it coming, see the strands of fate twisting, weaving themselves out towards this end. The Power Claw fell, its edge crackling with energy, and with a single blow it split Günter’s side off, literally. Ahriman could hear the ribs shatter and the collar bone split, and see the torrent of blood spill forth as the Commissar fell.

He'll love it. Do a picture of my story next. Please?
His control of the Enumerations was lost, his concentration broken in the face of the mortal blow to the Commissar. Roaring with rage, he threw himself at the Warboss the way a Space Wolf or World Eater would. He hacked and slashed at it with not a thought given to tactics or strategies, only that it should die, and die fast. His furious assault told, as blow after blow was rained down upon the Warboss. Soon it was bleeding from half a hundred wounds, trying to hit him back but missing every time.

Finally Ahriman sliced its claw arm off with a single blow, and it fell to its knees before him, blood streaming from a thousand cuts. And yet Ahriman wasn’t finished with it, not yet. Ahriman rammed the bladed end of his heqa staff into the burn hole where Günter’s Plasma Pistol had hit, poured aether energy into it, and discharged it into the Warboss. The result was spectacular, the warboss exploding in a shower of gore which repainted Ahriman’s already crimson armour. Ahriman’s senses returned to him, pushing through the angry red mist which had enveloped him, and he was appalled at what he had done. He was a Thousand Son, a scion of Magnus, not some wild wolf-kin or lobotomised berserker.

The Orks were retreating, falling back as fast as their legs could carry them, harried by weapons fire. Another storming attempt failed, another few hundred Imperial trooper’s dead. They could not keep this up indefinitely.
Ahriman went straight over to Günter, and even though he wasn’t a Pavoni he could see that the Commissar was in a bad way. The Tanith troopers backed away from him, some gesturing at the gore which still coated his armour. They had seen an angel of death, and they had known fear.

“Lord Commissar, Günter, please lie still. Your injuries are grave, but not necessarily life threatening. The one they call ‘Iron Hand’ suffered worse, and lived to tell the tale.”

“My Lord...I am not…” He coughed great wads of blood and mucus, before spluttering on. “I am not Iron Hand. He might have been able to walk away from a wound like this, but I cannot. I’m done for, I’ve brought the farm.” He reached for his cap, and slowly pulled it onto his head. “The city…can’t fall. Enough of us have given our lives for it. Hold it my lord, hold it…” The last word turned into a bloody gurgle as he finally gave out.
Around him the Tanith troopers removed their helmets or forage caps, and recognising the old Terran mourning ritual, Ahriman reached up and unclasped his own helmet, tucking it under his arm. Feelings he hadn’t felt in millennia came back to him, memories of his twin brother flitted at the edge of his mind. He stood there, a silent vigil, as the rains began to softly fall.

This was a loss they could ill afford.

Another day, another mission, another chance to get killed. Such was life on Seadelant, invasion day twenty-seven. Julius crouched beside the open window of someone’s house, Hellpistol in one hand and Satchel charge in the other, waiting for another few minutes of adrenalin and hectic action. On the other side of the same window crouched Dyllion and his Heavy Stubber, methodically checking the belt feed system like a Mechanicus automaton.
Even after all this time spent among his squadmates he still didn’t know much about Dyllion, he rarely spoke and never seemed to open himself up, unlike the others. Though most surprisingly of all was the change that had come between Dyllion and Scvott. Dyllion no longer pointedly ignored Scvott’s every command, and Scvott’s enthusiasm had simmered down, and he was actually proving himself to be a good commander. Julius had never expected those two to become friendly towards one another; it seemed another example of how the world had turned upside down.

Over the many long weeks they had been fighting the Orks, they had grown canny. The Orks knew they were out here, and often tried to bait them with seemingly unguarded convoys. But they had learned how to identify these traps, and turn the tables on the Orks. This was one of those times. Five Trukks were about to roll down this road, with two buggies riding shotgun. But secretly a further three Trukks full of Orks were driving behind, ready to pile in the moment the ambush was sprung. However they had been expecting that, and Flynn and Summer were going to be giving them a little surprise of their own.
Once again he heard the Orks long before he saw them, and having been doing this for so long he could clearly differentiate the growl of Trukk engines from the yammer of buggies, and the clatter of Half Trakks.

A skill he could have done without.

It all seemed like routine now, lighting the fuse, waiting for the right moment, throwing it as hard as possible, counting the seconds.

The roadside bomb Scvott hand planted earlier threw the lead buggy high into the air, the blast turning the lead Trukk onto its side. Seconds later the Satchel Charges and pipe bombs detonated amidst the convoy in a chain of fire and destruction. Homemade roadside bombs and mines had become an important part of their arsenal, and a vital way of ensuring as much destruction as possible, though they only had a few remote detonators left for the bombs.

Once again Julius began to pick off the Ork crew with his Hellpistol, while Dyllion filled the air with lead from his Heavy Stubber. On the other side of the road the sharp crack sound of Scvott’s Lasgun was barely audible.

In the distance another explosion marked the relief convoy, as Flynn and Summer took care of it. It was a dangerous idea, splitting their already low numbers like this, but it was the only way to ensure they weren’t swamped by a hundred or more Orks. Julius coolly picked and killed his targets, noting the numbers one by one as he put them down. He no longer felt anything every time he killed something, he no longer cared. If he survived, he would have to ask his father is this was natural, was this how you were supposed to feel?
Dyllion fiddled with his comm-link, muttering into it.

“What is it?”

“Bad news. Flynn and Summer are pinned down, there were far more Orks than they’d expected and the bombs didn’t take out all of them. Poor sods, I hope…” he noticed Julius stripping much of his spare equipment off.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Going to help the others.”

“They are only a distraction, the real work is here.”

“I can’t leave them to die.”

“They chose to be the distraction, they knew the risks. We have a job to do here Oll. Oll? Oll!”

Julius didn’t wait for any more; he leapt out of the building and dashed down the street, ignoring the yells from Scvott and Dyllion and the confused grunts from the remaining Orks. Nothing mattered but getting to them, to her, before the Orks did. He passed the tail Trukk, finishing a few Orks as he ran, and he set off down the ruined road. His heart pounded within his chest, and his muscles ached as he pushed them to their limit.
The building they were sheltering in was surrounded by nearly forty Orks, howling as they tried to break in. A Buggy with a pair of twin Shootas was hammering the building, and a few black scorch-marks marked where the Orks had thrown Stick Bombs at the building, and missed. But Orks didn’t always miss, and it would take only one to finish them. They would be dead in a few minutes, if he didn’t do something now.

Julius didn’t hesitate; he put the Buggy gunner down with a shot to the back, and set about blasting at the Orks from close range, ignoring the Slugga and Shoota shells fired back at him by the surprised greenskins. He shot and dodged, drew his bayonet and rammed it into the chest of a charging Slugga Boy, before pulling it out and impaling another. He couldn’t see beyond his next target, a red fog of rage clouding his senses. All he could see was his next target, his next victim. His bodyglove was soon wet from blood, both Ork and his own. Abruptly he heard a faint voice calling to him, and blinking he felt the fog dissipate. He was alone, stabbing repeatedly at the corpse of one of the Orks. Summer stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder.

“Oll, are you alright? What just happened to you?”

Julius shuddered as he realised what had happened to him, he could have all too easily died acting like such a fool, it was a miracle he hadn’t been. He found he couldn’t stop shaking. She helped him up and embraced him, and that simple act helped calm him down and stopped his shaking. They stayed that way until the footsteps of the others reached their ears and they broke off.
Oh wow, that looks amazing. Nice job.

ON a side note, SE lied to you all. I do have a story to post. Hint: it has a lot of Furia.
The other two were running down the street towards them. They stopped, and straight away Dyllion laid into Julius.

“You bloody dick Oll.” Dyllion growled. “Were you were trying to get yourself killed?”

“Dyllion is right.” Scvott added. “You cut and ran to ‘help’ them, leaving us to face the fugging Orks alone.”

Julius tried to keep the air in his lungs. “I…drew their fire away from you, and…saved their lives. Surely that counts for something?”

“Did they even need saving?”

“Scvott.” Summer interjected. “We were outnumbered at least ten to one when he came in. I don’t know if we needed saving or not, but he helped us in a big way. Right, Flynn.”

Flynn took a deep breath. “I see what you mean, but we can debate this another time.”

As they headed back for the sewers, Scvott took Julius aside. “Oll, we aren’t deaf, dumb, blind or stupid. We can all see how you look at her; we all know you go to her room every night. There’s nothing wrong with that, hell I could almost be jealous of you. Summer is a strong and beautiful woman, and any man would be lucky to have her. But when you let your feelings for her overcome your judgement in the middle of a mission, that’s when there is a problem. You’re the one who removed my doubts about command, so I feel I owe you this. When we’re in battle, forget about her. Forget about everything. Focus only on the mission. Hell, you’re the one who taught me that in the first place, how can you forget your own lesson?” his words carried with Julius the rest of the way back.
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It's still radical, fear not.

Who's the guy holding hands with Remilia in the background?
Hey guys. Since my last story, I've been meaning to write something with a bit more of a serious tone. I chose Furia to be the main protagonist this time around. Hope you guys enjoy some angry redhead action.
Chess is a game of incredible strategy. It involves two opponents on a flat battlefield, commanding armies of on equal size. Both opponents must think several steps ahead, deciphering their enemies moves before it comes to fruition. To win at chess, you must be quick minded, intelligent and have a deep understanding of the game.
All this however is irrelevant when Furia is involved.
“So the horse does what again?” the redhead asked, looking at the white piece with some interest. Isis sighed across the table as she paused the clock connected to the chess board.
“As I said beforehand, the knight moves in an L-shape in any direction from its spot. So if it was here,” she said, pointing to where her piece was currently, “it can move here, here and here. Got it?”
Furia nodded slowly as she looked over the board for a second. Isis unpaused the clock, not knowing why. Too often Furia had taken too much time in this game. This didn’t bother her though.
It was a warm Sunday in a township outside of Hive Tetra. This rarely ever changed due to the weather machines put in place centuries ago, keeping the majority of the planet at a reasonable temperature. Isis, Furia and Morticia sat at a cafe frequented often by them. This cafe, which months later would become particularly famous for a shooting, was quite empty at the moment.
Which suited the three cousins fine as it kept them away from the large crowds that usually gathered by their appearance. The cafe owner had become used to the idea of royalty visiting her little shop, which brought regular business if she kept bringing out their favorite drinks. The trio of royalty wore their casual clothing for the gathering, enjoying the heat of the day while the game went on.
Morticia stared at the duo off the side as several moments went by where neither said a word. She took a small sip of her medicinal tea before talking. “So why do you want to learn chess?” she asked. Furia shot her a glance and didn’t say a word, trying to concentrate on the game instead. Isis however had no qualms glancing away from the game. She had already memorized the board .
“She wants to learn because Simon plays,” said the taller girl, smirking ever so slightly.
“Alright, then why ask you? Aren’t you more difficult to play against than Simon?” asked Morticia. Furia growled, not wanting to hear the next part. This did little to stop Isis as she smiled fully while doing so.
“Ah, but you see, she is embarrassed to ask him because she thinks it will make her look weak,” teased Isis.
“Will you both shut the fuck up? Trying to play here,” growled the redhead from the other side of the table. She looked at the board, deep in thought. Finally, growing impatient with the mind games Isis was using on her throughout the entire session, she moved a pawn forward, wanting to take the minimalist move possible.
YES! i woke up early this morning just to read this :D
I'm glad there is no one in the room, because I'm laughing like an idiot
Isis sighed deeply, lazily reaching forward and moving a bishop. Furia looked at the board with a confused look, then at her cousin. “What?”
“This game is over. Again,” the prime daughter told her, seemingly unhappy with the result.
Furia stared at the metal pieces, trying to figure out what just happened. “You didn’t say checkthingy. Is it really over?”
“Checkmate in two turns,” Isis responded, shaking her head. “I know you really want to learn, but you don’t seem to be catching on to chess’ most important topic.”
“Which is?” Furia asked, trying her best to remain calm.
“Thinking ahead.” They both stared at each other for several seconds as a mental exchange occurred. Furia grinded her teeth, holding back a build up of rage at the comment. Isis kept her cool quite easily, yet flexed her legs underneath if she had to make a break for it. Morticia watched by the side, taking a deep drink of her tea while she suddenly wondered if it was the appropriate time to have a hot drink in her hands.
“Bah!” Furia yelled a moment later, slamming the table quite hard. The metal structure creaked slightly under the attack and the pieces of the chessboard scattered, some even falling off the table. Morticia’s tea shook a bit, but didn’t have a single drop fall on her, which she was grateful for. Likewise, Isis relaxed, knowing the tide had missed her. This time.

Angry redhead action??? Darkmage I LOVE YOU!

AA, i have no idea how long you stayed up in order to post, but I assure you, I waited 2 weeks to read more about julius :D If anything, your writing reminds me of Christie golden, and how she makes every death meaningful in the context of the story. Keep up the good work :D
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Actually, it's only about ten AM in his timezone.

Pic related, a map. By Someone else., age four.
Yeah I'm actually 2 hours before him. I thought he stayed up since 4am in the night
“Again. New game. The more I play, the better I’ll get,” Furia muttered. Isis shrugged, knowing it would work eventually. They were immortal after all. “We better hurry though,” said the redhead, “Simon will show up soon enough.”
“Simon?” Morticia asked. Isis shot a quick glance at her, nudging her under the table to look at her before saying anything, but her ill-looking cousin plowed on without noticing her attempts. “Simon’s been at the corner for ten minutes now.”
“What?!” Furia exclaimed, turning around in her chair. Sure enough, there was Simon standing at the corner, chatting it up with another girl. It took Furia a second to recognize who the other teenager was. Faith Aurelian. Furia nearly popped a blood vessel in her neck as she clenched her teeth in rage.
She turned back at Morticia, growling out the words slowly through her locked jaw. “They have been there for ten minutes?!” she seethed. Morticia, suddenly realizing her mistake, didn’t know what to say to calm her angry cousin down. It didn’t matter, as Furia wasn’t looking for an answer. She pushed her chair back, tipping it over and walked furiously towards her boyfriend.
Awwwww shit. Full yandere
Simon you bad bad boy... look what you did!
“Uh oh,” was all Morticia could say with her raspy voice, reaching for her inhaler. Isis shook her head at the comment, putting her chess pieces away in the meantime.
“I didn’t mention anything for awhile there because I knew it was going to end this way. By the way, it was more like 15 minutes.” Isis closed the chess board containing all the pieces and slipped it into a velvet grey bag. “Too bad, I wanted to try game number twenty three. She was actually improving.”
Taking a puff of her inhaler, Morticia turned to Isis, seemingly distraught. “What do we do?” her smaller cousin asked, clearly worried at the outcome of the eventual conflict. Isis shrugged as she looked up, watching Furia storm off towards the duo. There was no way to stop the train from derailing.
“Enjoy the fireworks.”


“So I did read the pamphlet you gave me,” commented Simon, holding the piece of paper in question in his hand.
“The exhibition on ancient Terran scriptures? Its supposed to be the biggest find in centuries. Fascinating isn’t it?” Faith moved up beside him as she spoke, getting a good look at the paper along with him.
“Oh yeah. I have to go before it moves on to the next hive. Doubt Furia would be interested though.” Faith eyes brightened immediately. She rarely had the chance to talk to someone with similar interest as hers in Terran culture.
“Well, I haven’t gone yet if you are looking for a partner,” she admitted beside him. He chuckled at that, knowing full well that Faith didn’t intend to make it sound like a date.
Ever since he had started to go out with Furia, the other cousins had started to become friendlier around him. He had grown accustomed to Freya’s big sister attitude, Kelly’s quiet nature and even Miranda’s third eye.
With Faith, he had figured that she was oblivious to some of the social aspects of her remarks. Always thinking with the literal sense of her words, she never considered the double meanings that came with them. He found that fact funny when one would consider how very devout she actually was as well.
“It would be best if I went alone,” he said a moment later. “I doubt Furia would enjoy the idea of me doing anything without her.”
“Uh, well, you can ask her right now.” Faith took a step back from him, signalling to Simon that things were about to get a bit loud.
“What the warp are you doing?” Furia yelled at near point blank range to the duo. Although Faith’s ears were unaffected because of genetics, Simon could already hear the ringing in his own.
Trying to remain focused, he smiled as best he could as he looked up to his enraged girlfriend. She seemed furious, more so than usual. Putting the pieces together, he probably saw why, considering how close Faith was to him a moment ago.
“Faith and I were just talking about an exhibition here in the Hive. Seems pretty cool.” He tried his best to make it seem that they were just talking about the museum. He wasn’t lying anyway, but that rarely could matter with Furia.
Faith was quick to defend his statement. “There’s this new exhibition in the hive, about ancient Terran art and photography,” she stammered out. It was obvious that like himself, she didn’t want to have an angry confrontation with Furia at the moment.
the owner i going to regret letting hormonal girls with super strength frequent his cafe
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Yeah, especially when one of them gets shot.
i just thought of something, what happened to Kor Phareon, Erebus, and Typhus (Typhon?) in this timeline?
Furia stared at Simon, shooting daggers from her eyes, then glared over at Faith. The other girl nearly recoiled at the look of pure hatred. Coldly, the angry princess began to speak. “Talking about a show huh? That close together? Right.”
Silence followed for a short while before Furia took a stepped forward towards her family member. Simon’s eyes widened, unsure of what to do as he watched from the side. Faith felt similar as she took a step back, not knowing if her larger muscled cousin was about to strike her.
“Stay away from him,” she seethed, venom dripping from every word. Faith could only stare in shock as Furia turned around, grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him away. He grimaced at the sudden tight hold and silently waved goodbye to the other redhead, who could only breath deeply as she had just brushed against death.
A hundred feet later she let go of Simon and they began to walk normally. Neither said a word, Furia too angry to do so, Simon too scared. Several moments passed before he had gathered enough of his manhood to speak.
“There was nothing happening. Honest.” Furia grumbled, seemingly still angry.
“You weren’t doing anything. But she was like, itching to get as close as she possibly could. Bitch.”
“You really think Faith was trying to steal me from you?” Simon asked. Furia mumbled something under her breath which Simon could only theorize to be several curses. Finally she shook her head, acknowledging defeat.
He grinned. “Just a bit jealous?” he said jokingly. She shot him an angry look and knew the wound was still fresh. He put his hands up in defeat. “Just a joke.”
most likely they continue serving as part of their legions
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no idea
Does that say "Implying Darkmage"?

Also: me gusta, Furia. Terrific.
Yes, yes it does.

Has Ahriman been taken to Isenguard, with the Hobbits?
She grunted and snatched the paper from his hand. Her eyes glanced over the words as they kept walking, taking it in slowly, before she said anything. “You wanna go to this show? It looks so boring.”
Simon shrugged. “I thought it was pretty cool. I mean, its a collection of knowledge from the Imperium’s past. If you don’t want to go...” he started.
“I didn’t say that,” she blurted out quickly. She grumbled, knowing she wouldn’t enjoy it as much as he would. “We’ll see, alright? Come on, I’m hungry.”
Simon nodded, following Furia into a nearby restaurant. Ever since their first “date”, they had grown accustomed to each other in ways people still didn’t understand. Against all odds, their relationship was working.
And Simon knew it wasn’t just him putting in the effort. More than once had Furia had them diverted from danger that would jeopardize what they had. No matter what others said, she seemed to care under her tough exterior.
The restaurant was mildly full for the afternoon, so the waitress at the front was more than happy to seat them quickly before getting back to her work. Althought some people glanced at the two of them, no one there seemed to recognize Furia, which she was glad for. It wasn’t hard for her to go unnoticed by most of the general populace. Who would think that a royal daughter would be wearing ripped jeans, a simple t-shirt and an old leather jacket?
“So did you apply to university yet?” Simon asked as they sat down.
Furia looked up from the menu and shrugged. “Dunno. Don’t know if I will be going. Not sure if I want to go back to school so quickly after finishing it.”
Simon nodded slowly. “If no university, what then? You going to stay here?”
“Yeah, take a break you know?” she said. “I don’t mix well with school authority, so going back so soon doesn’t seem like such a good idea. I might just join the military instead. I hear Hana will probably do the same.”
“If school authority is bad, then what about the military?” Simon pointed out.
She paused before answering, grinning as she did. “Well, I get to shoot stuff if I sign up.”
Simon chuckled at that, knowing full well that would be enough for someone like her. “Well, I’ve decided on applying to New Cyprine, not far from here.”
“Trying to stay close to me?” Furia joked. At the opposite end of the table, Simon blushed a bit. Furia loved it when she did that to him. “Why not Kourthry like all my cousins?”
“A bit too rich for my blood” Simon muttered. Furia nodded knowingly. Simon wasn’t poor, but he wasn’t exceptionally well off either. His family are the closest to being high middle class as they could ever get. Not rich enough to be of anyone important, but still enough to live comfortably.
>She shot him an angry look and knew the wound was still fresh. He put his hands up in defeat. “Just a joke.”

I think you might have missed a 'he' somewhere in that line DM
“Yeah, forgot.” Silence followed for several seconds. “Well, its a good thing you aren’t following my cousins. Most of them are bitches.”
Simon just stared, unsure of how to respond to that statement. Furia shrugged as she continued. “What? Most of them are. I guess Isis and Morticia are cool. And Freya. Angela sometimes, depends if she is being freaky with her powers.”
“And the others are all...” Simon didn’t complete the sentence, feeling strange insulting them all like that.
“Bitches. Hana? Usually hates my guts. Faith and Miranda always like to get into matters they shouldn’t belong in. And then there’s Victoria and the twins...”
“You know what? I believe you,” interrupted Simon. Furia grinned even harder at that.
“It's the truth. I don’t like them, they don’t like me. It has always been like that.” Simon was about to prove her otherwise, but the waitress show up to take their order. It was for the best. Even Simon knew where he shouldn’t thread with Furia and family was one such place. So instead, he chose to enjoy the burger he ordered with Furia instead of enjoying it alone.
I'm done for a bit, going to let the other writefags post.

Nice find. Thanks!
Somehow I just noticed that Morticia is the ultimate woobie.
this might be the whiskey talking but, I that just put her into my top ten primarchs daughters.

Come baaaaaaaaack!

Sorry about the outage, I lost all internet for a while. I'm back for a bit.
“He’s just looking around for wood to start a fire,” Freya said. She gripped a spike and ripped it from the rocks. “Be right down.”
By the time all three girls reached the bottom, Hasskald had lit his fire, and was roasting the deer over it, still a decent distance from the vacationers. Freya opened the pack they had brought, pulling some food out. “All right, who’s hungry?”
As the teens grabbed their food, Hasskald tore into his own. The wind was picking up considerably, and soon the barren snowfields were covered in tiny flurries as gusts of wind kicked up flakes from the surface. Jake huddled against the cold, munching on his bread. “So what’s the verdict on Fenrisian rock climbing?”
“Fun as hell. Awesome idea, Remilia,” Venus said.
“Thanks. I’m glad we went with this,” Remilia said, downing a little water. “There any other places we could go?” she asked.
“Well, yes, but not around here, we’d have to fly a good ways south,” Freya said. She bit a chunk off of a fruit none of the others could recognize. “Actually, we sort of have tomorrow off. I was wondering if you guys would be okay with me heading out to see the people a little,” Freya said. She glanced at the others, taking in their expressions. “Would you mind?”
Nobody objected. Freya nodded in relief. “Cool.”
“How are you going to do it?” Jake asked. “Just pick a tribe and fly out there?”
“No, that won’t work.” Freya’s red hair swung over her thermo shirt as she shook her head. “We’ll land a bit outside the settlement, and I’ll just sneak in.”
Alex looked a bit worried. “Will you be safe?”
“Not if I were going alone,” Freya admitted. “Two Hunters and a few snipers will be in the area anyway, so they’ll keep an eye on me.”

Panic not anon. They'll be back.
“But you won’t be going as Freya Russ,” Alex pressed.
She half-smiled. “Nope, just Freya. It’s a fairly common name. I might wear a falsehood or a mask that covers my teeth, though,” she said, tapping her lips.
Jake looked confused. “What’s a falsehood?”
“It’s a kind of holographic projector that makes your face look like a mannequin,” Freya said. “It’s not a real person’s face. There’s other kinds that just shift your real appearance a bit, though. So if I set it to cover just my mouth, it would look like I didn’t have these guys,” she said, tapping her mouth again.
“Do you even have one?” Jake asked.
“Well, I think we have a few in the armory, but…oh, crap, I’d need to personalize it,” Freya realized. She snapped her fingers. “Well, so much for that.”
Alex awkwardly shrugged. “Will people notice if you just don’t talk much?”
She grimaced. “I guess not. They’re not too visible when I speak, are they?”
“No, not unless you’re looking for them,” Venus said.
“All right.” Freya sighed away sudden nerves. “Tomorrow, then.”
Hasskald finished his meal and dropped an armful of snow on the fire. He turned to see the group finishing up their own food. He walked over, shielding his eyes against the rising winds.
“My young friends, I think it would be best that we depart,” he said. “The weather is turning.”
Alex rose to his feet, wiping his hands on the snow. “Sure. Back to the Fang, Freya?”
“Yep, we’re done here,” Freya pronounced, springing to her feet. “Thank you very much for giving us some help, Brother,” she said as Hasskald turned to activate his Thunderhawk beacon.
As the group returned to the massive fortress, they dispersed back to their rooms to clean up after their exercise. Freya, however, headed down into the residential portion of the building, looking for someone specific. As she wove through the throngs of serfs and Wolves, she acknowledged their greetings with a hasty ‘hello’ or ‘good to be back,’ until she arrived at her destination. She pushed the door to the room open, stepping across the threshold with a nervous grin.
“Freya, little pup. What can I do for you?” Bjorn asked, pausing his conversation with the messenger skjald beside him.
“I don’t wish to intrude,” Freya said in Juvjk.
“We were done.” Bjorn turned back to the messenger. “Thanks, Earjac.”
“Your Lordship,” the skjald said, before walking out and closing the door.
Freya crossed her hands over her camo belt in respect. “Eldest Bjorn, may I impose upon you for a moment?” she asked nervously.
Bjorn silently bade her continue.
“I wish to see my people, Lord. I wish to go amongst the Fenrisians and see them,” Freya said.
Bjorn slowly leaned back in his seat, a crafty gleam in his eye. “I see.”
“And…I wish your help,” Freya continued. “How should I do this?”
The ancient Marine slowly rose, hands on his desk. “Little pup, give me some credit, hmm?” he asked drily.
Freya cocked her head. “What?”
“We knew you would ask. The clothes you wore yesterday will be sufficient, for the most part,” Bjorn said.
“And what else?” Freya asked.
“Nothing, save this,” Bjorn said. He reached into his desk and drew a lumpy plastic bag forth.
Curious, Freya opened it. She lifted the contents out and arrayed them on Bjorn’s table, a smile appearing on her face. “Oh, Bjorn…you shouldn’t have,” she whispered.
The bag contained a pair of clearly hand-sewn doeskin leather gloves, a scabbarded dagger, a few small, rough pouches that were empty at that moment, and a bag of coins. She looked up at Bjorn, delighted.
“Just keep your hood on except when indoors, keep the dagger slung at your right side to fit in, and don’t spend it all in one place,” Bjorn said with a smile.
“Thanks, Bjorn, this is…this is perfect,” Freya said. She clipped the scabbard to her right thigh, low on her hip, then rested her hand on the pommel. She relaxed her shoulder, then whipped the dagger out with blinding speed.
Bjorn nodded with approval. “Good. Now, lass, go clean up and get ready for the meet. More appropriately, get your friends ready,” he said. “I suspect this will be a new experience,” he said slyly.

Going among the Fenrisians? That should be a wake up call.
Fenris is the epitomie of life being 'Nasty, Brutish and Short.'
Jake and Venus re-entered their room, dropping their bags on the bed. Venus leaned over and unzipped her bag, pulling her un-worn arctic camo shirt out and tossing in the open drawer in the dressed. “Shouldn’t have even brought it,” she said.
Her boyfriend walked up behind her and promptly slid his arms around her waist. “You are so lucky,” he muttered into her hair. She slid her own hands over his.
“You’re always cold, Jake, but this feels different,” she said with concern. “Are you gonna be all right?”
“Absolutely, just let me shower, and then you sit on my hands for a few minutes,” Jake said. “If this is what weather is like around here, Freya can keep it.”
Venus snorted, pulling his hands away. “Right.” She tugged her exercise gloves free and popped her knuckles. “There we go. You want the first shower?”
“Sure,” Jake said. He unzipped his arctic camo shirt and hung it over the back of the chair. Before he could enter the bathroom, his slate beeped. He swiveled it around on his desk and skimmed the message. “Hey, letter from home.”
“Cool.” Venus slid the slate over to her side and started reading as Jake undressed. “Really short. Your parents say hi, hope you’re feeling better…mine say have fun, don’t get eaten, et cetera. That’s about it. Couple pictures.”
“I’ll see them when I’m done,” Jake promised, closing the bathroom door.
Venus opened the pictures and glanced through them. Angela was sitting on the wide bench-like couch in her house, carrying a copy of her new pamphlet and beaming. The cover said ‘The Loudest Thoughts: Education Programs for Psychic Children.’
“Good for you, Angela,” Venus said with quiet pride. “I knew you could do it.”
She paged to the next one. George and Sandra were standing outside their apartment in front of a new aircar. George was dangling keys from his finger. The caption said ‘Behold, our new flying chariot.’
“Classy.” Venus opened the last picture to see Misja sitting cross-legged, with a box in her lap. Inside…
“EEEEEE! Jake get out here!” Venus squealed.
A few rattling noises later, Jake burst from the bathroom, shirt bunched in his hands. “What? What?”
“Look at this!” Venus giggled, ramming the slate into his arms.
Jake stared. “…Taxi’s been busy.”
“My dog had puppies while I was gone! ARRGH, I wanted to name them!” Venus groaned. The box was full to the brim with no fewer than four little baby dogs. The fourth and final photo was Taxi, lying down, as the other dogs crawled all over her.
“I thought Taxi was a male dog,” Jake said.
“No, she’s a bitch, in every sense of the word.” Venus sighed contentedly at the slate. “The male was one of the neighbor’s dogs. We don’t put a fence up, so he can come visit whenever.”
“That’s pretty cute.” Jake shuffled his feet. “Can I finish my shower now?”
Venus opened the caption of the final picture. “Hmm…their names are, left to right: Avery, Ormont, Kale, and Neeia. Mom must have named them, Dad wouldn’t have used Terran names.” Venus smiled maternally. “So adorable.”
Jake climbed back into the shower while Venus was still enraptured by the pictures. “I’ll be right out,” he called.
I have a similar reaction when puppies are concerned.
when I'm sad I just remember seeing a pomeranian herding it's puppies like a a sheepdog. It warms me inside
Quick comment there: Angela's little pamphlet is actually akin to what I did in my high school graduation project. I made a pamphlet about special ed programs for districts that hadn't had autistic people before.
Freya jogged into her room with the bag dangling from her arms. “Alex, check this out!” she said.
Alex glanced over his book. “What is it?”
“Bjorn got me a present!” Freya emptied the bag onto the bed.
“Is that a knife?” Alex asked. He lifted the scabbarded blade. “What, uh…what’s the occasion? For the knife-giving?”
“He wants me to be safe tomorrow,” Freya said. “And look! Filthy lucre!” She dumped the bag of coins onto the bedspread. “I could buy a house with this much gold.”
Alex gaped. “Holy shit,” he said. “A house? On a planet of nomads?”
“Look at this!” Freya ran her fingers over the pile of money. “Man, Bjorn really went overboard here.”
Alex picked up a few coins. Each was embossed with a little symbol and the number fifteen on one side, and a man’s head on the other. He didn’t recognize the symbol or the head. “Who’s this dude?”
“Dunno. The symbol is for the Krennir clan, though.” Freya slid the gloves on. “How cool are these? One of the skjalds of the Second Great Company made them.”
Alex ran his fingers over the fabric. “Wow, that’s soft.”
“It’s doe leather.” Freya sniffed the fabric and ran her fingers together. “This is so awesome. “I’m gonna be all set tomorrow.”
“What should we do tomorrow, while you’re out?” Alex asked.
Freya paused. “Well…I was hoping you guys would just be okay on your own…” She suddenly looked a little anxious. “I mean, you couldn’t come with me. You don’t speak the language.”
Alex grimaced. “Well, hey, you go have fun. We can just laze about for a while.”
She smiled ruefully. “Are you sure?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”
Freya leaned across the pile of goods and gently kissed him on the lips. “Thanks, baby.”
After a quick dinner in their rooms, the group reassembled for cards, and to plan out the next few days. Jake took the opportunity to ask a careful question of Freya.
He tapped his finger on the table, trying not to sound accusatory. “Freya…how do you pick which members of the Legion accompany us?”
She glanced at him, curious. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve met a few on Terra at your place…they seemed a bit more…rowdy,” Jake said cautiously.
She snorted. “Wait until we have dinner in the Great Hall in two days. You’ll change your definition of ‘rowdy.’ But to answer your question, I just pick. Guys I know from last time I was here.”
“Are you picking Marines that won’t object to outsiders being here?” Remilia pointedly asked.
“Yes,” Freya said simply. “Some of the Brothers will not like you being here. I don’t blame them, they’re not used to outsiders, but I’ve been cherry-picking guys I knew would be alright with us.”
“So when we’re dining in the main hall, will we have to put up with people wanting us to go?” Jake asked.
Freya shook her head. “No,” she said adamantly. “The rules of hospitality are sacred to the Rout. Believe me, you guys are going to be fine.”
When they were done, they retired, though it took Freya a while to sleep. When rest came, her dreams were full of the things she hoped she would see the next morning.
SE is done for the night, time for some more Furia.
In a nearby building to the restaurant, two men were arguing in the basement. One sat behind a desk, smoking a cigar with disregard for air quality in the poorly ventilated room.
His shirt was stained with different sauces and his stomach bulged outwards over his belt. He was a balding middle aged man who seem to not care about the topic the other man was yelling at him, rather enjoying his cigar instead.
The other guy was standing. He was skinny and tall, easily described as being lanky. He paced around the room quickly, eyes darting around him as if he expected the shadows to jump out and kill him.
Although he looked young, his hair seemed to be whitened at the edges. There was some deep darkness under his eyes, signalling he had not slept soundly for some time.
“Maurice, you told me you’d have something for me by now.”
The man behind the desk, Maurice, grunted and shook his head. “No, what I told you was that I’d give you a status report today if I had something. Which I don’t. And you asking me every week is getting to be annoying.” The man looked over his colleague, clearly annoyed by him being there. “Listen, why don’t you go home and sleep. I think you need it.”
“Sleep? Are you fucking kidding me?” the man shouted at him. “I haven’t slept soundly in months Maurice. I can be killed any day now if anyone actually recognizes me. You have any idea how fucking shitty my situation is?”
Maurice waved him off, clearly not caring. “If they wanted you Dax, they would have gotten you already. You weren’t at the Astoria Plaza that night, so you escaped death there. It was a dark alleyway, neither kid could recognize you.” Logic seemed to deflect off the man, not piercing his paranoid attitude.
“The girl is the daughter of a Primarch, Maurice. They aren’t human. She probably does remember me.” The man’s hand went through his hair, trying his best to remain calm. He failed horribly while doing so. “I came to the hotel ten minutes after everything was said and done. I thought I’d be late to the party. Place was a bloodbath. I don’t wanna die.”
Maurice got up from his seat, grabbed the man from the arm and began to pull him towards the door. “Daz, you escaped death. You ain’t going to be recognized now if you weren’t then. They don’t know who you are and they never will.” He stopped by the door and let go of him.
Opening the large steel entrance, he gave Daz a reassuring pat on the back, but stealthily pushed him out to the hallway. “Listen, I’ll keep looking for a transport out of here to some distant planet if you want, but I doubt it will matter. You are home free.”
Daz nodded slowly as he made his way out the door. “Tell that to my nerves,” he said, right before Maurice slammed the door closed.


It was near noon when Furia and Simon finished their lunch. Two novice arbites walked on the other side of the street, on patrol duty around the small township. They paid no attention to the duo as they continued chatting to eachother. Otherwise, no one seemed to be on the street at that time.
As they exited the restaurant, Simon looked at his watch. “I have to get going. Got some stuff I got to finish with the parents.”
DarkMage has been banned for 'Linking to referral sites'. Fugging 4chan. Sadly, he'll have to complete his story tomorrow, which is a bloody shame.

I'll take over for the night, and hope I don't get banned as well.
Ahhh, FFS.
Thanks, AA.
And here we...go.


When they got back it was night on the surface. Scvott, Dyllion and Flynn went their separate ways, Flynn smiling at Julius and Summer knowingly. He didn’t know what they did in there, but he had an idea, even if it was the wrong one.

After they were gone Summer and Julius went together into her room, Summer lighting her candle and together they crouched before it side by side, Julius with his Crux and Summer with her statuette. In silence he offered thanks for their victory, thanks that he had been able to save her from death yet again and thanks for another day of life, and as he crouched there he could feel her presence clearly, like a warm flame keeping the cold away. This had become a nightly ritual; they would pray together and afterwards spend an hour or two together talking about theology, history, music, topics in general. Sometimes he would play the Harmonica for her; other times listen to her recite old hymns. It was a way of escaping from the madness around them, even for only a short time, and he had grown to love the time they spent together, love the pleasure of her company.
As he sat there, something struck him. They had never spoken of each other. She had never once asked him about his family or his home, and likewise. He didn’t know her, not really, and this bugged him.

“Summer?” He asked softly. She turned to him.

“We’ve been doing this for nearly a month, and yet I still know nothing about you. Back at the ambush, I threw myself at the Orks because I thought you might have been killed or injured, but I don’t know why I care so much for you, given you haven’t told me anything. What did you do before this? What will you do if we survive? Why won’t you tell me anything?” he stopped, realising his voice had grown harsher as he piled on the questions.

“I can say the same Oll. I don’t know you either.”

“That’s true.” Julius held his head in his hands, thinking of how to reply. Suddenly he knew what to say, and he cleared his throat and began.
“My name is Ollanius Persson, and I was born on Calth seventeen years ago. My father owns forty hectares of land on the estuary at Neride. I was christened at the little chapel on the edge of the swartgrass fields there. Some of our neighbours, who have been our neighbours ever since father settled there twenty years ago, whose children he employs, laugh at our faith. They call us ‘pious’.” He wasn’t lying, that was the first few months of his life, the life his parents had planned to live with him until Guilliman had come calling. Only the names were different. From there though, his fictional history took shape, the history he would have lived had his father not taken Guilliman up on his father’s offer, and he felt a guilty pang lying to her as he continued, which he hoped she couldn’t see reflected on his face.

“I went to the scholum at Numinus City, the capital of Calth. We were young and confident for the future of Ultramar, the future we would build. Did you know our manufacturing output rivals that of Macragge itself? We felt we were the future of the Imperium. I graduated top of my class, and was invited to attend one of the famed Military Academies of Ultramar in Macragge City itself.” Julius continued in this vein for several minutes, taking about military training, visiting Iax and Espandor, and finally going to Terra after graduation. The large scented candle slowly dipped as it burned, and the wafting fumes of incense grew stronger and stronger. She silently listened to him with interest on her face, nodding every so often to show she was listening, though when he started speaking of Terra, her eyes lit up.
She questioned him about every aspect of Terra, the cities and the people, and he answered her as honestly as he dared. She couldn’t believe him when he told her about the Petitioner’s City. “The Emperor would never allow such a thing, least of all on the doorstep of His palace!”

“Sad but true, I’m sorry to say. The Emperor may be the most powerful human ever; he may even be a god, but he has an Imperium to run, and things get overlooked. That is probably why relief hasn’t arrived here yet.” He was going to stop there, but something stirred within him and he continued, watching her.

“I’ll tell you something honest about the Emperor, and you can take this as you will. He rammed the Imperial Truth down the throats of the entire Imperium without caring for what people wanted. He didn’t give anyone a choice in the matter; it was ‘believe this or die’, no better than religious fundamentalists in times past. He thinks he does everything for the good of mankind, but I have to disagree with that.” He could see anger on her face, but he couldn’t stop now.
“You should get a choice; you should be allowed to believe what you want, so long as it doesn’t interfere with the lives of others. The Emperor thinks that faith fuels the dark ones, but that’s not true. Its everyday emotions that keep them sustained, and that is something the Emperor can never hope to regulate, god or not. People going about their daily lives experience their normal emotions still empower the Dark Ones. What’s needed is an alternative to direct the belief at, faith in something regardless of whether people believe it’s true or not. If the Emperor ever listened to someone like me, the Imperium would become a better place. Of course that will never happen, but a man can dream.”

When he was done, she stared at him with a mix of admiration and surprise, the former anger seemingly gone despite the fact he had just criticized her god to her face. “That’s quite something Oll. Gives a girl a lot to think about.” She smiled at him, and his heart soared. “If I may ask, how do you know so much, the Primordial Annihilator isn’t usually taught about at schools?”

“You learn things from the strangest of places. In my case, books.” Again, close to the truth, though Ahriman and Magnus had shown him hints of the horrors lurking below, the eternal enemies of mankind. Books were a lot safer than seeing for yourself the horrors beyond.
“When I return to Calth, I aim to help my father with the harvest, and then enlist in the Ultramar Auxilia. After this, it can’t be too bad, and they have the XIII Legion backing them up. As for me personally, I love MST40k, but please don’t ask me who I prefer as host, it never ends well.” That was the truth, the endless debates between him and Venus over whether Myke or Jull was the better host were well known across Imperator High.

“My favourite book is ‘Call of the Lion’, and my favourite of Shakespire’s plays is ‘Henri V’, so stirring.” He continued in that vein for a few minutes more, telling the truth once again and hoping it would drown the earlier lies.

“And that’s me.” He concluded, looking to see if she had swallowed his story, half true and half elaborate lies which filled him with shame. She didn’t respond, sitting there in total silence listening to the almost invisible hiss of the candle burning, the incense fumes from it filled the air with a sweet scent. Finally she ran her fingers through her long hair and abruptly asked Julius a question.

“Oll, have you heard of the Lantsfalle family?”

Maybe I've been reading too much papa-n stuff but I half expected some form of Huehuehuehue...

Don't stop now Ahriman! you got me sitting on the edge of my seat waiting to see how this turns out for both your titular character and Julius.
He was taken aback. “Who hasn’t heard of them? They own a majority stake in the Void Lanes and the Terra-Ultramar road don’t they? They have the ear of the Speaker for the Chartist Captains, and were involved in that matter with Rogue Trader Carlin a few years back...”

“Yes, all that and more besides. The Lantsfalle’s have made themselves wealthy beyond the wildest dreams of most people, by shamelessly exploiting every loophole and taking advantage of their market control of the trade lanes to bump up tariffs and reap the profits, while backwater planets are crushed by trade debt and income tax. They are cold, caring only for money and status, with no shame and no loyalty beyond the almighty throne, and I mean the currency, not the God-Emperor. And they were never there for their children, who were brought up by maids, nurses and butlers with everything at their disposal and wanting for nothing, save that which we all need, love.” Her words were filled with passion, and Julius’s eyes widened as he realised what she was saying. “So, you are…”

“Summer Lantsfalle, once heir to the mighty Lantsfalle trade empire. That’s my name. Listen now to how I fell in the eyes of my parents.” There was the faintest hint of something in her voice. Sadness, bitterness? Julius couldn’t tell.
“My younger brother and I were brought up alone, moving from place to place aboard our parent’s ships, spending a few months, maybe even a year at one of their many palaces and estates dotted all over the Imperium. I grew up wanting for nothing, waited on hand and foot. Anything that money could buy was brought for me. But I didn’t have any love in my life. My parents weren’t there when I said my first word; they weren’t there when I started home-scholum. They weren’t there for any of my birthdays since I was three. My servants were kind enough, but I always knew the only reason they were was because they were being paid to, and otherwise they couldn’t care less what happened to me. I had a void in my soul, an emptiness which nothing material could fill, no matter where I went and no matter what I did.” Julius wanted to say something, but common sense got the better of him and he kept silent. She carried on.

“Then came the day everything changed, when I found my faith. I was on Dagonet, a planet famous for one of the Warmaster’s early victories, and I had heard of a hidden place at the edge of the city where people who worshipped the Emperor as a god went to pray. Like most people back then I thought of them as stupid, ignorant. I still don’t know why I ended up going; He must have been speaking to me even then. The meeting house was just a small barn; from outside you could barely tell what it was used for. There were only twenty or so people inside the empty space, huddled together before a wooden box being used as a pulpit. At first I thought it was all a farce, until the priest began speaking to us all.” The fire was back, her eyes aglow with it.
“He told of the Emperor, of how his love for Humanity was all encompassing, and how much he had sacrificed for our victory. He told how the Emperor was eternal, and how he had always been there for humanity, doing what he could for his chosen people. And he told that the God-Emperor protects, he protects humanity from all manner of foul things, and he protects every person, you and me. As I stood there at the far back, I swore the priest was speaking to me personally. I felt something that day Oll. I could feel the presence of the Emperor there, in that squalid little shack, feel his light shining upon me, and I felt that empty void fill, that hurt fade away. I went to the priest after the service and was given this.” She gestured to her copy of the Lectio Divinitatus with obvious pride.

“For the next few months I went there every sevday, learnt about the God-Emperor. I found myself among like minded people, and for the first time I felt I belonged. Every day my faith grew, every day I felt more and more at peace with myself and the universe. Hell, I began to forgive my parents for their years of absence.” Her voice dropped as she began the next part, and more and more emotion choked her voice.

“I don’t know how my parents found out; someone must have tipped them off, one of my servants perhaps. All I know is that no sooner had they arrived in system then an Arbites taskforce destroyed the temple and had the entire congregation arrested, including me. I didn’t know at the time, of course, all I knew was that I had been swept up and locked away with all the others. It was nearly a week before my parents even bothered to come see me.
“They tried to make me disown my faith; reject it as so much nonsense. But I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, it was now a part of me, and I couldn’t part from it any more than I could part with my heart or head. They hated that, told me time and again that faith was for the narrow minded, that people didn’t need it anymore thanks to the new lights of science and reason. Since when did they have a monopoly on reason? Finally I could stand it no more and I told them that my faith was my own, and they could never make me reject it or give it up, and that I would rather die than lose my new identity. So they gave me a one way ticket to Seadelant and disowned me. They couldn’t do it in public, cared too much for their precious image, but they cut me off, made my brother the new heir to the Lantsfalle fortune, and once again forgot I existed. I have a nice house here, and enough money to live on for at least another few years, until I decide what to do with my life, they gave me that much at least.” Julius had no idea she had gone through this, he wanted to say something, but she carried on relentlessly, her story consuming her like fire consumes paper.

“I don’t hate them, they are how they are and I can’t change that. I still miss my brother though; they have barred him from ever trying to contact me. To them, I don’t exist anymore, and if I die here, they won’t mourn me.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the hurt off her face, and Julius felt hurt seeing it.
“So that’s it Oll. I have no more secrets. You know who I am, and how I came to be here. A spoilt rich girl, thrown out for believing in something more powerful than her, for seeking to fill the void in her soul her parents wouldn’t fill.” He could see the hurt in her eyes; though she had forgiven them or at least tried to the memory still pained her. Several tears painted streaks down her cheeks. He knew that feeling, he had been harbouring it himself the past few weeks, and he didn’t like seeing it. He didn’t want her to feel like that. He had to do something. He reached over and embraced her, and as he did he felt her softly sobbing. That hurt him even more, he had seen her face a dozen Orks armed only with a Lasgun and laugh it off afterwards. The smell of incense was almost overpowering, a thick fog seeping into his skull. He only knew one thing he could do.

One kiss couldn’t do any harm.
He gently broke the embrace, looked deep into her brown eyes, and leant over and kissed her, trying to keep it as chaste as possible and knowing he was failing at it. When they were done she turned towards him, her brown eyes shining in the candlelight and her golden hair glowing, and before he knew what was happening they were kissing again, this time passionately, deeply. Julius wanted to say no, wanted to stop, but his body wouldn’t obey him, even his mind wouldn’t obey him. His lips eagerly clasped against hers, his hands helping her strip out of her soiled uniform, his arms hauling them both up onto her small cot. He let her strip him out of his own uniform, and he was struck dumb at her natural beauty, laid bare before him. Part of him recoiled from what he was doing, as his lips instinctively took one of her nipples in and sucked eagerly; making her emit a sensuous moan so loud he feared the others would hear her and see his shame. As he entered her he felt a brief feeling of resistance and he realised that like him she too was a virgin. Was, not anymore. Neither of them were anymore.
His oaths, his beliefs, the girlfriend back on Terra he may or may not still be with and the vow he’d made to her before all hell had come in the form of a bullet, none of it mattered anymore, all that mattered was the heat of Summer’s body against his, the silky feel of her skin, how wet she was down there. He’d never thought it could get so wet down there. After the deed was done and his conscience returned with a vengeance he all but fled from her room ignoring her hoarse protests, and sat on his own bed trying to come to terms with what he had done. He had violated his own beliefs, given up his most sacred gift, and not to the one he’d pledged it to. That night was one of the longest of his entire life.
oh god how bad was it
>>how wet she was down there. He’d never thought it could get so wet down there.
This is awkward. Understandably so if it's informed by Oll's perspective, but if not consider rephrasing it or dropping it entirely.
Also, Summer has a tendency to drop pronouns and given how meticulous her education probably was that's probably not appropriate.
For example:
>>They couldn’t do it in public, [they] cared too much for their precious image.
She probably speaks in terms more specific -consider making her phrases longer, but broader as well.
>>They couldn’t [castigate me] in public [publicly] as they cared too much for their precious image [as the prestige of the Lanstfalle name trumped every other concern],

Things to consider.
Otherwise, just fine. =]
Also, I would, were I you, totally be unable to resist having an Eldar Ranger politely cough at Summer and inform her that a small group of allies had arrived a few seconds after Ollanius left.
A little implied Eldar trollface, of course.
Yea, nay?

The All Blacks are playing in NZ, so I doubt he'll be back anytime soon.

I don't get it.
Ok, I'm back, and the All Blacks won, so I'm in a good mood.

Good points well made. Thanks. I've now reworked Summer's lines.
It's supposed to be awkward, it's Julius's perspective, and it's his first time in more ways than one, as you'll see in the next scene, coming up right now.
Ever since Julius had re-connected with his faith, he’d noticed certain metaphors which now applied to his life. The last 28 days of total war had been one of those, heaven, hell and purgatory for Julius all rolled into one. Hell in the constant war and the eternal threat of defeat and death, heaven because of the person he’d met due to that war, and purgatory because of the implications of what had happened between them only a few hours earlier.
Julius was a Catheric, and most Catherics believed in purity before wedlock. Julius had a looser definition of that, but he had been saving himself for the one he had considered his soulmate, even if that was no longer as certain as before. Not anymore. He hadn’t expected it to happen, but it happened anyway, and now he was torn up inside.

Julius sat in his room, softly playing on the harmonica he’d found in the broken remnants of somebody’s house while tramping back from another mission against the occupying Orks. He had always had a passion for music, and the sound of his harmonica soothed him, allowed him to reflect on himself without feeling all consumed by what he had done. He could also play the bugle, but his one was back on Terra, and the Guitar, of which he had found none around the outer city.

It was several hours before dawn; the others were all fast asleep while he had spent the night torturing himself over and over again in his mind. He had already asked his god to forgive him many, many times over the course of the night, but forgiving himself was another matter.
Checking his watch, he decided he could no longer remain cooped up down here; he had to get out and see the sky. He got up and pulled several items from the steel box at the foot of his bed. He pulled on his boots, checked the charge in Vulkan’s hellpistol, and adjusted his cap before turning to the door.

She stood in the doorway, already in full uniform. Julius had no idea how she had got there without alerting him, or how she had even known that he was going at all, and for a second he did nothing but stare uncomfortably.

“I’m going out to see the sunrise.” He finally admitted.

“I know. And I’m coming with you. You always said you would take me with you one time, well that time is now.” Julius couldn’t argue, so he pulled his cap on and together they set off.

They slipped out into the inky night, and made their way parallel to the southern climbs, the near vertical hills which flanked the southern half of the city. Because it was so far from the walls, the Orks hardly ever went down there, making it a perfect route to take to escape after a raid, or slip past Ork patrols.
His chosen lookout stood between the abandoned outer city Defence Laser compound and the bay, an abandoned water tower. He’d found it before the invasion began, the day he’d first arrived on Seadelant, and amazingly it still stood despite all the devastation wrought upon the city. It was high but sheltered and offered amazing views of the bay, the perfect place to sit alone and reflect. Only this time he wouldn’t be alone.

Together they clambered up and sat there on top of it, listening to the faint call of distant seabats and the crash of the waves upon the shoreline, strangely loud in the pre-dawn gloom. As the first faint fingers of light pushed up above the quietly lapping waters, Summer abruptly spoke to him.

“Look, I can guess how you must feel about last night, and I know Catherics frown on that sort of thing, but you’ve told me you’re no fundamentalist, you don’t let doctrine make your choices for you. You can’t hold yourself solely responsible either, we were both at fault. We nearly died out there Oll, you saved my life yet again, and then you opened yourself up to me and vice versa. We repaid the death we’ve seen all too regularly with life, the most beautiful celebration of life there is.”

“I swore I would save myself for the one I loved, and now I have broken that vow. Is there any wonder I’m acting like this? It is my fault; I was overcome by my own weakness. I could have said no.” He said bitterly.
“You weren’t weak when you confronted that Ork armed only with a bayonet. You weren’t weak when you took on near forty enemies on your own. You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met, and I’ve met my fair share. You have a strong heart, you accept people regardless of what they think of your beliefs, and you’re willing to take the blame for your mistakes and try to fix them. By anyone’s standards you are a better man than most.”

“That doesn’t save me.” Julius picked up a shard of rock and threw it off the lookout. “I made a vow before God, my God, and I have broken my vow. Can He forgive me?”

“I don’t think so, I know so. He sees all, remember? He saw your need, saw your heart and your desire to comfort me and saw what you went through out there. He’d be no true god if he didn’t forgive you for this one mistake. You’ve made other, far worse ones before right?”

The Petitioner’s City. That was his worst one. But he couldn’t tell her, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Before I found my faith, I did many things trying to get my parent’s attention.” She added. “Bad things I’d rather forget about. Yet though I considered promiscuity, I never could go through with it. There is no law in the Lectio Divinitatus about sex in or out of wedlock, I could have lost mine many times over both before and after my salvation on Dagonet, and yet I did not. And now you’ve come into my life, and made me feel things I haven’t felt since my banishment. I feel something for you Oll, something strong, and I know you must feel something similar for me, else wise you wouldn’t have given me that gift last night.”
She hit too close to home with that one. He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for her, which had grown over the weeks together until it had finally burst last night. But there was another, the first in more ways than one. He had to tell her, had to set the record straight. He awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Look, Summer, I have not been entirely honest with you. Back home on T…Calth, there’s someone. Someone I cared deeply for.”



“You used cared. Past tense. Do you still care for her?” Julius was taken aback at her question. He didn’t know what the status of his relationship with Isis was. They hadn’t parted well; he had left before he could explain to her how he felt regarding the Petitioner’s City, and how he had laid the full blame upon himself. His father had convinced the Warmaster to speak on his behalf at the trial over his shooting of those gangers, allowing him the chance to leave Terra, head to Calth to see his past, pay tribute to his deceased mother and decide where to go to from here. She hadn’t lifted a finger on his behalf.

“What is she like, this girl of yours?”
That question caught Julius off guard. He had never spoken to anyone who didn’t know Isis either personally or by reputation. He struggled to find the right words.
“She…she is a strong woman. Driven. She knows what she wants, and knows how to get it, and once she’s set on a course it is hard to make her change her mind or see reason. She’s proud, knows her talents and how to excel in any field demanded of her. Unfortunately this attitude affected her relationships with others somewhat, as you were either her friend of her foe, and heaven help you if you were her foe. She also used to believe that a man was not worth her time unless he could become her equal.”

“And did you? Become her equal?” Julius could see the interest on Summer’s face, the fascination she seemed to have about what Isis was like.

“No, I never could. No-one could. I became something far more, her moral compass, her naysmith to use the old Terran term. I was, am one of the few who can sway her, apart from her father and grandfather. She would always turn to me for advice or if she felt she was doing something wrong or going too far, and if any others feared for her or for what she was doing it would be me they would come to. You know she has an amulet of lunar metal, her ‘lucky charm’, never goes anywhere without it. She once joked she had another, but she never could take that one with her as easily, as he couldn’t fit into her pocket.” Julius couldn’t hide the tone of regret in his voice, and Summer jumped on it.
“What? So you regret what happened between us?”

Julius shook his head. “Summer, I can’t regret what we did, but all the same I feel bad for what just happened. She’s always known about my beliefs, and though she’s never shared them she’s always respected the fact that I do, defended me from those more zealous in their dislike for faith.” Words now poured from him like a breached dam, all his pent up feelings rushing out.

“When we first started getting serious, there was an incident when she wanted something from me I couldn’t give her, and I had to refuse her. You have no idea how bad I felt that day, how I wanted to please her but at the same time wanted to stay true to my vows. I seriously though our budding relationship would die that day and I said as much to her, told her to find someone who could satisfy her the way I couldn’t.” He remembered that day well, it was the day he and Andrew had gone down to the Startseite War memorial to commemorate the death of Andrew’s grandfather.

“But it didn’t. It grew stronger; we came together in a relationship that despite there being no physical intimacy was considered one of the bedrocks of our scholum. You want to know something Summer, I was planning on giving myself to her when we graduated, I felt in my heart that God meant us to be together, but…something came up and I failed her. God, how I failed her.”
Memories of the gene-modded gangers, the cursed symbol on the wall and how heavy his hand felt after he’d shot the ones threatening her bloomed anew in his mind, every one a monument to his foolish idea. “I promised myself to her, but I gave myself to you, and now I feel I have failed her. Again.” His body shuddered with a sob, and he could feel his eyes water, tears beginning to form. He’d laid his shame almost completely bare before Summer, and it felt liberating and heartbreaking at the same time. She moved over and took him in her arms, held him close.

“Oll, I can see how much this woman means to you, and how you must feel because of me. And you shouldn’t regret what came between us. There’s nothing to be gained by beating yourself up over this. If this girl truly loves you the way you love her, she will understand and forgive you. I know I do. No matter what happens, if you patch this relationship up or not, I am glad you were my first, Ollanius Persson.”
As she spoke the first rays of sunlight caught in her hair, making it glow with golden light. Julius had never seen a more beautiful sight. This time he willingly bent over and thrilled at the feeling of her lips against his. Throwing his doubts to the wind, he threw his heart and soul into the kiss, and thrilled at it.

Summer broke off the kiss, smiling at him deeply. They just sat there, enjoying each other’s presence in silence as the sunshine grew brighter and the light glittered off the sea.

Just as Julius was thinking of calling it a day and taking them both back to the Bunker, Summer’s expression changed to one of surprise and concern, and she gently tapped Julius on the shoulder, pointing to the Defence Laser bunker behind them.

“Oll, I just saw an Ork down there. A lone one. Orks don’t usually go off by themselves, and there was something strange about it, about how it was moving and acting. Should we check it out?”
And that ladies and gentlemen, is a wrap. Tomorrow we go hunting that mystery Ork.

Please leave comments and feedback on all our stories, and keep the thread floating until SE returns and DarkMage is unbanned.

Editor, where you at?
bump for the bump god
bumpan to keep it alive for my review later
I think I want to spend a bit of time with the Venus and company while Freya gets ready to go. This is what she's up to the morning after Freya beds down in preparation for her visit.
Venus sat down on one of the iron chairs on the observation deck, staring out into space.
An arc of comets soared by the planet on distant tails. The whorls of the Eye spun ominously in the vast distance, like tainted blood circling a drain. Fenris’ moon was a brilliant white disc in the sky, pouring empty light on the snowfields below. Above, the polarizers blotted out the sun’s deadly radiation, leaving it a blue-white spot in the dark of space. Undimmed by the sun’s fury, the stars burned, beaming their multicolored light into the Fang.
Venus was entranced.
A faint noise from behind caught her ear. The footsteps and breaths…Jake.
“Hey, Venus,” he said softly. They were alone. “What’re you doing up here, all by yourself?”
“Just thinking.” She glanced back at him. He blinked as he realized that she was wearing her mirrored sunglasses, but not the usual pair. These were just two-way mirrors, they didn’t block light from outside. Was she not wearing contacts?
“Well…I won’t interrupt, if you want to be alone,” Jake said. He turned to leave.
“You don’t…have to,” she said faintly. He looked back. She had extended a hand, and was sitting still, smiling faintly. “Come. Sit with me a while.”
He smiled back, settling into the massive iron chair alongside her. “What are you watching out there?”
Venus looked back out the window. “Everything.”
“It’s pretty big,” Jake chuckled. “Wonder why the Salamanders didn’t have a gallery like this on Prometheus Station when we were there.”
“They’re pragmatists. This isn’t very safe to build.” Venus sat still, staring out into the void. “…They should have done it anyway.”
“It’s gorgeous, all right.” Jake looked out into the darkness. Space was supposed to be dark, wasn’t it? He had stood on the top of the Palace once, at midnight, and stared upwards. The sky had been a dull, blank grey. Here, the light from below and above and all around was so bright. Between the points and dots and swirls, though, there was nothing. Empty blackness. So much of it…all the way out to infinity. The ugly purple bruise of the Eye blotted out one corner of his sight, but the rest was a mosaic of glorious color.
“Mind if I stay here a while?” Venus asked.
“Of course not, we’re just watching holos and looking at the puppy pictures downstairs.” Jake slid his arm across the back of Venus’ seat, expecting her to settle back against it.
She stayed still. He glanced at her. Her eyes were fixed on the spectacle. He looked back, trying to see what had enraptured her so. Nothing was changing. When he glanced at her once more, he noticed her lips were moving. Very little, but they were moving.
“I can’t hear you.”
She blinked behind her frames. “Uh…was I talking?”
Jake nodded. “You were. Or your mouth was moving, anyway.”
“Sorry.” She pulled her glasses down the bridge of her nose, folding them in her hands. “…Can I ask you something personal? Please don’t answer if you don’t want to.”
Sorry, folks, but there's a storm moving in and I don't want to risk having my rig on when the power goes down.

I'll be back online in two hours.
Jake sat up. “Sure.”
She turned her glowing eyes on him. “Jake…I’ve never asked you this. Why did your father refuse to enter the Mechanicus?”
Jake cocked his head in surprise at her totally unexpected question. “Well...shit, I think…I think he just found their obsession with augmentation to be maniacal.”
“What do you think about that? The idea of spirituality?” she asked. “Machine or flesh.”
He thought in silence as she watched him, inscrutable. “I think…it’s…it’s old. It’s part of our lives because it’s always been there. But I hold trust in the Truth.” He tilted his head. “I don’t…I don’t see any harm in wanting to be a part of something larger than yourself. I just don’t like proselytizers.”
Venus’ shoulders slumped a bit. She nodded again, sliding her glasses on as she did. “Okay.” She turned back to look at the stars. “Thanks.”
“Why do you ask?” Jake inquired.
She shook her head. “No reason.”
“You do nothing for ‘no reason.’” Jake gently traced his fingers along the back of her hand. She flinched a bit. “Venus…I was okay with you asking me. Are you not okay with me asking why?”
She sighed. “That’s fair.” She turned to regard him through the mirrors. “I’m…I’m an atheist, like you, Jake. But…there’s an aspect of the Salamanders…really, the entire Nocturnean world…that’s deeply spiritual. Not in the sense of gods and thinking forces of nature, or any rot like that, but the idea that the lives we live are meaningful. To each other, to ourselves, and to Nocturne as a world.”
Rugby or soccer (football)?
He didn’t say a word. He just listened. “Jake…I’m not springing a religion on you. I’m not religious. But meditation and contemplation of the universe is a part of life for Nocturneans who live long enough to do them. Salamanders spend…well, days sometimes, just sitting in the saunas in the Sanctuary Castles and mediating.” She crossed her hands in her lap. “That’s what I was doing. I’m not looking for God out there, I know he doesn’t exist. I’m just thinking about…well, everything.”
Jake glanced out the window too. “Oh.”
“The Promethean Creed says that life is a circle. Birth, death, accomplishment or failure, learning. All in a circle, that ends in the lava that fuels our world, under the watching eyes of the beasts that ruled our world long ago. If that sounds like religion…” She hesitated. “It used to be, I guess. But…for me, it’s more a frame of reference. You see?”
“No,” Jake admitted.
“It’s…look out there. There’s a universe out there. There’s worlds, and monsters, and beautiful people, and beautiful monsters. Life and death and discovery and ignorance, and hatred and love.” She rose to her feet and slowly walked up to the panes of glass. “It’s humbling, isn’t it?”
“It does feel that way,” Jake said from the bench.
“Yeah. It makes you feel small. Overawed, right?” she pressed.
“For me…I don’t just see swirling orbs of hydrogen and photon beams and energy cascades and a Warp rift.” She turned back to him, bathing him in her light. Her clothes were a dark grey that day; with her unbound black hair and skin she nearly vanished against the skyline.
I finally got myself unbanned! I'll start posting material after SE.
Her brilliant eyes burned in the darkness of her silhouette. Jake stared at the two little red ovals for a moment in silence. “What do you see?” he asked quietly.
“I see…I see beginnings and endings. When I look down there…I see people living the Circle of Fire. They don’t call it that, of course, but it’s there. Birth. Struggle. Accomplishment or ignominy. Death or apotheosis into Astartes, then death in the far future. The worlds out there…”
She cupped her hand and lifted it, until from his seat, it looked like she was cradling Fenris’ moon in the palm of her hand. “They’re the same, Jake. There may not be drakes and ske-run on those worlds, but they’re the same. Worlds full of life, worlds all but dead…humans and xenos.” She lowered her hand. “I see…I see a beautiful, frightening wheel of life and death, fire and glory, darkness and loss. Not visible, but it’s there.”
Venus slowly walked up to him, blotting out the darkness until all he could see was a halo of stars around her dark outline, and two little suns burning in her face. He stared up at her, something momentous building inside him. He had no idea what it was.
“When I lay in bed at home, I watch my homeworld spin over my head. Dad and even Mom would tell me stories, of the Nocturnean people, of their beliefs, and the things they had to teach us and others. We learn, Jake, we learn fast. We take the most ancient and powerful technologies of the Mechanicus and we turn them against our world, or in harmony with it, and we build homes.”
She slowly knelt, until her eyes were level with his. The lights in the room were off, all he could see was the light of Fenris’ moon behind her, and the endless, swirling pools of red in her eyes. “Jake…I think machine spirits are as real as the next girl who builds machines for fun. That is, I don’t think they’re real. And who knows. Maybe all the spirituality in the world is nothing more than our instincts.”
Venus stared into his eyes, as if she was trying to speak to his soul directly. “Maybe…all the spirituality in the entire universe is nothing more than people anthropomorphizing something to make it easier to understand. Maybe the Circle of Fire itself is nothing but pretty words to comfort mothers who outlive their children. But…Jacob…my love, when I look out at those stars…those worlds…those people…I see the Circle turning. I see the wheel aflame and spinning, driving time and the world forward.”
She sat next to him again, watching his eyes as he sat in silence. “I’m sure to someone who doesn’t think spirits are real…in the literal definition, anyway…that sounded like hogwash. But I look out at those worlds, and I feel my heart beat faster. I feel like I’m…back in the Hall of Deathfire. I can hear the fires of the world burn beneath my feet. I whisper thanks to the metal as I shape it, even if I know it’s an inert mass of gold that can’t love me back,” she said, finally cracking a grin.
“I want to think that maybe, just perhaps…the world can be seen through a secular lens and still be spiritual, to some tiny extent. Maybe we anthropomorphize life and death and the stars because we want to, not just because we’re driven to by instincts we don’t need any more. It helps us feel a little less humble…but not un-humbled. It makes you feel a little less small…but not that big. It lets you feel awe…without being overwhelmed.”
Jake sat in silence as he looked back at her, meeting her eyes as best he could from inches away. Finally, she slid the glasses back on, and looked back out to the stars. “That’s what I see, Jake. I see a galaxy that…for all my Family’s glory…has been burning and spinning for a very, very long time. When the human race is ash, it’ll be burning still, turning still. I’m here…I’m looking out there…because I’m okay with that.”
Jake didn’t answer right away. The two teens stared out the window into the depths of time and space for a while.
“We’re…insignificant, Venus. I know what you mean…when you say that we’re trying to put a face on the faceless.” Jake slid his hand over hers again, and this time she didn’t flinch. He sat in the quiet a moment longer, letting the reassuring heat of her flesh bleed into his cold skin. “I feel the same way about you.”
Venus turned to him in silent question.
“When we met…started dating, you scared me a bit. Not the eyes and skin, at least not primarily, but what you meant. You were something vast. Something amazing, and a little frightening. A fraction of the Emperor’s power. When I went to that party with you, I was putting a human face on the side of the Emperor’s family most people never see.”
He coughed. “Now…obviously, I don’t think of your family as spirits, or anything. But to stand in the same room as the Emperor for the first time…that was humbling. Then I saw him eating nachos and wishing your cousin a happy birthday.”
Angry redhead action? I'm Irish, that's the only action I'm ever going to get!
And: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPbYI1KFYwY
Huh, Someone else. and DarkMage are in the same general region as I am (Troy, NY).
Venus chuckled under her breath. He continued, a smile appearing on his own face. “If your entire lifestyle tells you that life can be seen as a circle…then so be it. You’re a brilliant girl, and I’ve known about the Astartes’ spiritual side for a long time. You have Chaplains when they’re outlawed for the rest of the galaxy, after all. You’ve never tried to hide it.”
Jake slid his hands around hers. “So…yeah. I don’t see a circle of fire out there. Literal or figurative.” He paused. “Okay, the sun, I’ll grant you,” he corrected. Her shoulders shook in silent mirth. “But I don’t see what you see. That’s okay. Right? I see an empty space, populated occasionally by orbs of hydrogen and helium and lithium undergoing pressure-derived self-sustaining fusion reactions.”
“I see that.” She glanced out the window again. “I would be downright hypocritical to say I don’t. I just see a little more, too.”
“That’s all right with me. Circles of fire and Promethean Ways…I don’t know them. I’m not really wired to see the things we don’t understand as mystical, even in a completely non-theistic way. I can spend the rest of my life wondering about it without a spiritual filter over it, even do it with you. But if it comforts you…what right do I have to complain?” he asked. He pointed out at the stars. “That’s our Imperium out there, and people live and die out there every day.”
>then i saw the emperor eating nachos
i cant stop laughing
The two of them sat in the depthless quiet of space for a few minutes more. Venus slowly slid closer to him on the bench. At last she rested her hands in his lap and lay her head down on the impromptu pillow. She kicked her sandals off and curled up on the seat, pushing her glasses up her nose until the only light in the room came from the sky outside.
Jake draped one arm over the back of the seat, gently running the other through her silky hair. They rested together, watching the stars burn.
“Did you mean it when you said you’d spend the rest of your life with me?” Venus asked quietly, nearly an hour later.
Jake smiled down at her. “I’d…” He trailed off. “Yes.”
“…What were you starting to say?”
“Venus…baby, I’d have proposed by now if we weren’t legally too young on Terra,” he admitted quietly. “I’m looking forward to Kouthry like nothing else I’ve ever felt.”
Venus shifted a bit. “Oh.” Jake felt a tiny wet spot appear on his leg below her eyes, but didn’t feel the need to dry it. One was appearing on his cheek, too.
And on that d'awwww note, I turn things over to DarkMage.
I almost forgot it was Writefaggan Saturday! Time to read.
To stop myself from getting banned again from the same passage, this time I'm posting it in my talk page. Its kinda important part of the story unfortunately.

It was all pretty jawesome. One thing: What criminal behavior? I must have missed that.
Instantly furious, she slammed the hood of the car in anger. Two fist sized dents were imprinted into the metal frame easily enough, causing no harm to the teenager. “Hey! Watch where you are going!” she yelled at the driver.
Daz, equally pissed off, screamed at her behind the windshield of his car. “Move bitch! Get off the road!” Seemingly trying to focus in front of him, he didn’t get a good look of the girl initially. He began to realize that Maurice was right. He really needed to sleep.
There was a pause as they suddenly stared at each other. For Daz, who had studied everything about the girl he had nearly killed, the recognition was near instantaneous the moment he got a good look at her. All the blood in his face drained as he suddenly felt that he could no longer breathe. “Oh shit,” was all he managed to wheeze out, clearly going into shock in his own seat.
Furia on the other hand took longer to recognize the man. Her mind began to note that she did indeed know him from somewhere, but failed to tell her immediately who it was. She stared at the man behind the wheel as he began to freak out, seeming to have a stroke. He probably knew her from the many news stories about the Royal Family, going crazy that he had nearly caused a car accident with one of them. But she still didn’t know how she knew him. She remembered the face somewhere...
The memory of the dark alleyway flashed in front of her. Her eyes widened dramatically as Daz suddenly realized that she knew. She knew everything. “You,” she pronounced, recognizing him easily enough when she had only seen him in the night. “You son of a bitch!” she shouted, jumping on the hood of the car in mid yell. Her shows got enough grip on the hood as she made her way towards him, clawing at the hood in fury.
All cars usually came with sensors to stop operation if they felt something was wrong. In this case, the weight of a teenage girl on the front hood was enough for it trigger. Daz cursed loudly, fearing for his life as the car lifted upwards a foot before slamming back into the pavement, causing a strain unto the landing gear.
The crash did not disturb Furia whose fists began to flail unto the windshield. As the glass began to shatter, pain shot through her arms. Her hands bled from the constant assault as glass pierced her skin. This did not stop her as the rage in her body fueled her past the pain, adrenaline pumping through her rapidly. Furia felt no emotion other than the need to get to Daz.
Slowly but surely, the glass shattered while the occupant watched, terrified. He was trying to release his seat belt but his hands fumbled with the button. As the windshield finally gave away, she roared victoriously as her hands shot forward around the man’s throat, blood gushing from her wounds.
Daz struggled in his seat, gasping for air as he suddenly knew it was all over. This was how he was going to die, strangled by a red headed teenage girl in his car. How tragic he thought to himself.
He could barely note the shapes of the arbites grabbing Furia as they tried their best to pull her off. “Warp, she’s strong!” one of them said as the trained officers could do little to stop the teenager from strangling the life out of the man. “Fuck it, tase her!”
The other reached for the device on his belt, quickly bringing it to bear. Training took over as he appropriately used the device on Furia, sending an electric current through her body. Her hands let go of Daz’s throat as she screamed loudly from the sudden pain.
Her rage urged her onwards, trying to fight against the muscle convulsions, but her body eventually gave away from the attack. Furia slipped off the car hood unto the pavement, where she gritted her teeth in pain as her body ceased to coordinate with her mind. She wanted to get to the man so dearly, but could only watch as her arms shook uncontrollably.
The arbites stood around the girl, not sure what kind of person she was to last so long against the taser. The man in the car had fainted from the entire event. One guard stared at the redhead on the pavement, seemingly recognizing her from somewhere.
It was around this point that the arbites suddenly realized that they had just tased the granddaughter of the Emperor. At that moment, they weren’t sure if any of them wouldn’t be going to prison.


That criminal behavior.
So what do people think of our revelations? Furia's criminal behavior, Julius' disappointing lack of self-restraint, Venus' and Jake's sort-of proposal?

EDIT: durr
I've read through Road Trip now and I really liked the talk Venus and Jake had. She is very thoughtful.
Wait what? Where did that car come from? I missed something here.
I cant seem to post it without getting a problem with the filters.
A mere half hour later, Furia sat on a hospital bed in the emergency room with a headache. And even though her hands hurt like hell, she had suffered blood loss and been electrocuted, none of these things were the cause of her headache. It was the loud argument outside that was annoying her.
The female doctor in front of her seemed similarly annoyed by the noise outside. She glanced at the shut door and back at Furia. The blond haired woman looked down at her a bit distressed as she finished up with the bandages on her arms. “You want some more painkillers?”
Furia paused and nodded. By the time she had reached the hospital, her arms had bled quite a bit and had several pieces of glass stuck in her hands. Naturally, she looked pale and tired to everyone around her, yet her mind was wide awake.
The doctor grabbed an injection tool beside her and place the appropriate drug capsule in the slot. Placing the needle edge to her arm, the machine auto detected a blood vessel and injected her with its contents. The doctor did the same with her other arm and soon enough the drugs began to take affect as she lost feeling in her bandaged arms.
“Well, I’ll be giving you some prescription medication for the pain. It won’t matter for long with your physiology, but it can help till then.” The argument outside escalated and Furia could clearly hear the sound of her father, roaring in rage just outside the door. The walls must have obviously been soundproofed in one way or another, as if it wasn’t she would be hearing the entire conversation in surround sound. The doctor looked back worried.
“What is it?” Furia barked weakly. She wasn’t in the mood for games.

“If you want, I can knock you out and blame it on the blood loss.” Furia stared at her, unsure of her motives. The doctor shrugged. “You are no shape for a chat with them. Your condition might even get worse because of the stress.”
Furia shook her head. “Fuck em, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” the doctor asked her.
The redhead growled. “Why do you care?” she retorted quickly, not in the mood for anyones favors.
“You are my patient. And you are a young girl. And you don’t need their shit right now.” Furia smiled weakly at the last remark, but still shook her head.
“My problems ain’t gonna disappear if I’m asleep,” she muttered to her. She knew that no matter what, the following conversation was going to happen if she liked it or not.
Before the doctor could respond, the argument outside quieted down. The door opened seconds later into the large medical room and in walked in a well dressed man, clearly from the Treasury. In one arm, he carried a solid black metal briefcase and in the other some papers. He looked at the doctor and Furia for a moment before turning to the door.
Angron stood outside, as angry as always. Furia locked eyes with him for a moment and she could tell she wasn’t going to enjoy the following conversation. He nodded at her slowly and she returned the gesture, basically telling him that she was alright.
“This will only take a few minutes,” he said to the large berserker, who sneered at him as he turned to the room he had walked into. “Doctor, if you could leave?”
“Is this necessary right now? My patient is tired.” There was truth to the statement. Furia was falling asleep on the bed and had to focus to stay awake. The black suited man did not seem to care.
Okay there we go. NOW I've got the connection. Thanks a bundle, broheim.
“That is unfortunate. I will be sure to make this as quick as possible. If you would, doctor.”
The woman scowled at him, but he seemed indifferent to the situation. Turning to Furia one last time, the doctor reached into her pocket and took out a card. Handing it over to Furia, she smiled at her. “If there is any complications, call me.”
Furia looked at the card for a moment, finally getting the woman’s name, Dr. Elizabeth Chawas. The teenager nodded and the doctor left. The Treasury officer closed the door behind her in a hurry, wanting no other interruptions. There was silence as the two suddenly stared at each other.
The man slowly walked towards her and put his briefcase beside her on the bed. Placing his thumb on a scanner, the box opened and he placed the papers in his other hand inside. “How are you, Lady Furia?” he asked finally as he seemingly had organized his belongings.
“Fine. Are we done?” she said quickly.
He chuckled at that. “Eager to leave I take it?”
“Well, I had a long day if you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I noticed.” He paused and looked at her. She stared back at him, not budging in her position. “Why did you attack that man?” he asked, not dealing with any more small talk.
“He was there at my mugging.” He looked at her a bit strangely. “Eidetic memory, remember?”
“Wasn’t it dark?” he asked, a bit surprised. She groaned loudly, not wanting to deal with the twenty questions this man had for her.
“Are you guys seriously in charge of my safety and yet know nothing of what we are capable of? I can see in pitch black darkness,” she informed him, seemingly unhappy with his lack of knowledge.
He grinned at her. “Your capabilities is why I am here today. Breaking a gravcar’s regulation windshield with your fists is quite a feat of strength to say the least. Didn’t it hurt?”
>Dr. Elizabeth Chawas
Oh ho ho ho!
Her smile was vicious in nature. “Not enough for me to stop if you couldn’t tell.”
“Of course,” he accepted. “So, recognizing the fellow you obviously thought to take justice into your own hands. Literally.”
Although she might be tired, her anger was never running empty. Her eyes stared at him coldly as she responded. “They almost killed me. I wanted to return the favor.”
“Return the favor.” He seemed unphased by her stare and looked at her with complete apathy. “By chance, would you have killed him?”
She seemed taken back by that statement. Truth was, it never even occurred to her since the whole ordeal. And she suddenly realized she would have. She would have easily killed the man in her rage. Something about that seemed strange to Furia that she didn’t even seem to care that she would have easily collapsed the man’s trachea or snapped his neck.
The man nodded, knowing full well she hadn’t thought of it. “I figured. That is why I am here, Lady Furia.”
“You see,” he continued, “we have been wary of your sudden bursts of anger for a while now. Being the daughter of Lord Angron, it was a circumstance we had to prepare for a very long time.”
“What are you talking about?” Furia asked him, her headache getting worse. She didn’t show it as she simply stared, but all she wanted to do at the moment was lay down and fall asleep.
“We had to come up with a plan when one of the royal family members would go against the laws of the Imperium. This plan actually came into action the day you had been mugged by the drug dealers.”
She stared at him, unsure what he was on about. “What do you mean? What did the plan do?”
“Do you know what your father did that day?” he asked her. She nodded slowly. She had her suspicions for a while. According to the news, the Treasury had stepped in and had a violent fire fight with the gang members the night afterwards, killing all of them.
However, Kelly had told her that Curze had gone out that night, to conduct “business”. Her own father had disappeared during the same time. It was pretty clear to her that he had done his own justice.
“Well, your father was the first one we had to approach with his plan, which we found to be successful. Now its your turn.” He reached into his briefcase and removed a small pill bottle. “Furia, I am going to give you two choices.”
She stayed silent as he continued to talk. “The first choice is this: the next time something like this happens, where you go and break the law, the Treasury might not be able to protect you like we did now. You might go to court for your actions and could end up in prison.”
“Are you saying you won’t do your job?” she asked him, knowing full well that they couldn’t. She was still royalty, even if her behavior did not show it..
“Oh, we will. But we can’t always protect you, especially if the public finds out the truth.”
“Alright,” she unwillingly accepted. “What’s my second choice?”
“You start taking these,” he said as he shook the small bottle. He threw it to her, which she easily caught. She looked at it strangely, unsure of what it was other than some sort of medication. “Those are Xelaratin. They are meant to keep people like yourself calm for extended periods of time. As long as you keep taking them, you will not have these moments of rage that you normally have.”
>Dr Cockwise
>GILFiest GILF that ever GILF'd the galaxy
I loved her character in the games.


“You are going to fucking drug me?” she roared. She didn’t like drugs, ever since some drug dealers almost killed her and Simon. She still smoked cigarettes, but that was the extent of her drug usage. This went against many of her current beliefs.
“Drugging is such a horrible term for this. Its pacifying your anger. And we aren’t forcing this on you.” He closed the briefcase and picked it up. “You have the choice not to take the drug, but next time might be different. Next time, we might not be able to get you out of trouble. Remember that.”
“Do you have any questions?” he asked her.
She had many about what had just happened. The legality of the entire scenario seemed strange to her, and she wondered what kind of control the treasury actually had over their lives. What could they actually get away with.
Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to care that deeply at the moment. Her hand closed around the small plastic container, squeezing it till she heard the plastic strain. “Are we done here?”
Moments later, they both walked out of the room. Angron stood nearby, glaring angrily at the Treasury officer as he walked past. “Lord Angron,” he said respectfully, bowing his head. He paused and turned to the redhead teenager. “Hope you feel better soon, Lady Furia,” he told her and left, leaving the two superhumans alone in the hallway.
Furia looked around for a moment. “Where did the doctor go?”
“Had some other shit to take care of. Gave me some painkillers for your arms.” He opened his giant hand and showed another small pill bottle, identical to the one in her hand. She grabbed it from him and nodded.
“Thanks,” she said somberly.
Angron place his large hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him. He noted the tired stare in her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry it has to come to this.” He used the softest voice he could muster, something rarely heard from him when all he usually did was yell.
She showed him the small bottle. “Are you on these?” she asked. He paused and nodded a moment later. “What are the side effects?”
“Side effects?” he repeated, clearly unpleased with the term. “They make you as calm as an fucking Eldar,” he growled, nearly spitting out the final word. She didn’t notice the sad look he gave her as she was too tired.“Come on, lets go.”
They arrived to gravlimo in the basement parking lot of the Medicae facility. The area was empty of anyone other than themselves and the swarm of Treasury guards on patrol. One of them opened the door to the vehicle and both of them slipped in. As they sat down, Angron looked at the front cabin to the servitor driver. “Go,” he ordered, and the robot acknowledged as the limo took off towards the exit.
Furia looked at her arms for a moment. The bandages were up to her elbow, covering up many cuts that the glass had left on her skin. All would heal and disappear as the cuts weren’t that deep to begin with. There was a slight chance that a few wouldn’t leaving ever present reminders of what she had nearly done. She turned to her father. “What happened to the guy I was attacking?” she asked him.
He grinned at that. “In custody. Senior officials know full well what kind of photographic memory we have, so they didn’t doubt your claim. Also, it seemed that he was a suspect for some other crimes, so he won’t get away if we can’t fix him on the mugging.”
She nodded, pleased that at least there would be some justice. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, well he is lucky I didn’t get my hands on him,” boasted Angron, clenching his huge fists. Furia looked at his hands, her thoughts still on the conversation with the treasury officer.
“Like the other muggers?” she innocently asked on reflex. Angron didn’t say anything for several seconds, becoming stone faced at the remark. Furia wondered if she had gone into territory she shouldn’t have. Eventually he nodded slowly at her, understanding that she knew what he had done.
“Yeah, like the others,” he murmured.
The rest of the trip home was silent as both kept to their thoughts. She suddenly realized she had to call Simon and tell him she was okay. He probably saw the whole thing moments after they had left each other. With the rush of treasury guards cordoning off the area, it was unlikely he could get to his side. He probably felt that it was his fault, even if there was nothing he could have done to help.
Angron looked at her, then turned his head to look outside. The spires of the hive went by as they travelled upwards to his own. He rubbed his bald head, deep in thought on how to approach the subject. After a few minutes, he turned to Furia. “Listen, I don’t like this as much as you do but...” he started, but suddenly realized he should shut up. Furia had fallen asleep on her side of the limo, falling unto the seat. He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.


Done for a bit. How do you guys like it so far?
Me likey. Me likey long time.
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I like it a lot, especially when you actually have Furia flip her shit as it would be in her character. And Simon will need to man up (easier said than done considering his girlfriend) and tell Furia to stop being jello of others girls just talking to him. In other words, it's set up for DRAMA!
I was commenting in the last thread about my view about Trip into Hell, that I view it as war porn. I just want to add a little facet to that opinion and it is the following:
The standard 40K 'verse is GRIMDARK and it is DARKGRIM, every peaceful planet is invaded, everyones shit is fucked up, chaos, nids, traitors and DARKENING GRIM. The Primarchs Daughters was the opposite of that, it was fun and silly and daw and that is how I liked it as it was everything that standard 40K was not.

Trip into Hell goes back to the GRIMMENING DARK and it is simply not what I want to read. I realise it is your attempt to give the PD 'verse more depth to it by reminding us that it is not all fun and games everywhere. The problem here, in my case, is that I already know that. I've been following 40k for years so for me, I didn't need the reminder.

However, I'm sure there are anons that like your story and want more. I just wanted to expand on my reservations of it. I apoligize if I bum you out, you have put a lot of effort into it which I can appriciate. It was just not something I'm looking for.
So what about the stories DO you like? All of them, not just Trip Into Hell.
They're so bad that I know how much they sucks without even r eadin it
and I hate you.
Yes i do though i'd much prefer it if you actually put it on 1d4chan and also gave your stories a happy ending for once

for a challenge you should think about making your next story all butterflies,love and nice things with absolutely nothing bad in it
I comment on them as I read them.
Smells trolly.
>PD 'verse
Isn't it called Warhammer High?
Probably, but I got my point across. You knew what I meant.
Originally it was called the Primarchs' SONS. Any relevant name works, really.
I honestly like this a lot more than the story with Lyra. Part of it is I have a thing for aggressive tomboys; I can't lie about that. But unlike the other story, it feels like you're starting off at a faster pace. Also, this story hits close to home on a personal level. There is clearly some pre-existing tension between Furia and Simon and their communication as a couple is lacking. Both of them come off as the type of people who have some issues. It's a little early to tell for Simon, but Furia seems to have a rather poor coping mechanisms. But unlike Remilla, she takes out her frustration on other people.

That simple fact sets up a whole lot of potential for drama. Many people (myself included) have been in relationships like that and realize what it means when it comes to important situations. At that break point, someone has to give or else the relationship will self destruct. Combine that with the possibility for more drug abuse DRAMA, and I feel like you have more potential and more situations you can explore with Furia/Simon.

I definitely do. As >>20650851 stated, I feel that we get enough grimmdark as is in normal 40k. But when you shift away from the war and explore Julius' feelings about recent/past events, the story grips me. I don't know the best way to implement my suggestion, but I think you should use the war as a parallel to the war inside Julius mind. It looks like you're heading there and I eagerly await more!
Not him, but I don't much like the whole Warhams High setting at all. Which is not to say I hate it and think all of you are no life faggots for liking it and its not even that I think its not grimdark enough for 40K or anything like that, it just doesn't jive with me is all. I think its because I'm not a fan of teenage dramas of any sort. I mean, I read a few of the stories and all, but they all failed to grasp my attention. I guess the one valid criticism I could throw out is that ones I did read were incredibly cliche. Almost painfully so.

Of course, this whole post is completely worthless and helps no one, so I don't know why I even bothered to type it up and waste space.
Which stories did you find cliche? Remember than the three authors here have only written about a fifth of the WHH stories between them, if that.
There was the one about the tsundere delinquent girl with a heart of gold
The one about the Salamander chick and her hiver boyfriend

And those are the only ones I remember reading, though I might have read one more. If I'm just scraping the bottom of the barrel, Id understand, but at the same time the whole teenage drama thing doesn't entirely appeal to me.
Well, okay. That's a little disappointing, but I guess I understand. It's not for everybody.
Like I said, my criticisms are kinda useless since its more of a distaste for the whole genre. Not that I disapprove of you doing all this, mind you, just felt like getting that out there.
Far above, Freya knelt before Bjorn in the hangar of the Fang. “Eldest Bjorn, thank you again for your gifts,” she said. “I will use them well.”
“I know you will, child.” The two of them entered a gunship, and it rose from the hangar. “Now…little pup. Our destination is a very small outpost of the Krennir,” Bjorn explained. “It is called Hosanger, and the money we gave you should work here.”
“Good. What do I need to know?” she asked.
“There are fewer than four hundred souls in the place. You will need to be somewhat cautious. They will know you as a stranger.” Bjorn sat back on the metal bench. “I’d recommend you stay near the edge of the village. We can cover you from there.”
Freya’s ears popped as the gunship sank through the air. “When do I leave?” she asked.
“When you wish to,” Bjorn said. “But I would leave before nightfall. The storms tonight will be fierce.”
“All right, good.” She huffed in the dank air of the gunship. “I’m nervous.”
“Good. Ours are a hard, uncompromising people. They will not be kind to you.” Born leaned forward and skewered the redhead with his ancient gaze. “You should still see them as they are.”
“I want to.” Freya crossed her legs and snugged her hood over her head. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful, fear not. And I would not know you if I had not seen you before.” Bjorn eyed her gloves. “I’m glad you like those.”
“They’re perfect.” She flexed one hand. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, old man.”
“I should hope so.”
Awesome, thanks for the comments. I chose to write this story about Furia for the same reasons you guys seem to enjoy her character. Although this part of the story will venture deeply into her relationships with the people around her, I am going to warn you guys that this is going places that you probably didn't expect.
The gunship settled down a few miles outside their destination. Freya walked down the ramp and shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun. In the far distance, a thin column of chimney smoke wafted up from the collection of buildings that was Hosanger. Three Wolves with slung rifles emerged beside her and jogged off into the snow, either to keep an eye on her or just for exercises.
Freya paused and squinted at the village. The larger buildings were scattered around rather than focused at the middle, but other than that, it looked more or less like how she had pictured. Bjorn gave her one last piece of advice as she began the trip across the snowfields.
“Little pup, remember this: your name is a last resort. These people may not even know it.”
She nodded. “I know.” Without another word, she took off running.
Her hair flew behind her like a comet as she sprinted over the ice, leaving the gunship in her wake. The cold air bit at her ears as she ran, and flurries of snow kicked up behind her booted feet. Her new dagger clanked against her side. She reached down to secure it as she tore through the air, faster than any human could be.
Freya slowed as she approached the little village, taking care to approach from behind a small building. It looked to be made of mortared local stone, and the smell said ‘livestock shelter’ to her. She walked up behind it, steeling her nerves. “Okay, Freya…here we go,” she whispered. She rounded the building and peeked down the pathway beside it. The twisting road led into the heart of the little settlement, where crowds of people were moving about. She took one last breath and stepped onto the road.
Freya walked up the pathway, taking in everything. The air was light and breezy, even between the buildings. The road was nothing but cartwheel ruts in the ground, with nary a paving stone in sight. As she approached the square, the noise of people and animals grew louder. She resisted the urge to look around for targeting lasers from the Rout that were watching her. At that range, who needed a laser sight?
A trio of squabbling people walked past her, gesturing angrily and yelling in Juvjk. Freya stepped aside to let them pass. They walked right by her with nary a look.
She tugged her hood up over her bright red hair and followed, eyes darting around catching it all.
The group emerged in the square of the village, such as it was, being the only paved part of the whole village. A large stage made of local stone filled one corner, but the rest was left open. A few anemic-looking trees were dotted around one side. A few were missing boughs, probably from when the winters got too cold and somebody needed wood.
Freya followed the group around the edge of the space, eyes wide. Everything was so new! The people were dressed in a variety of leathers and pelts, but also simple fabrics and textiles here and there. Feathers decorated a few caps. Everyone seemed to have headgear of some kind, in fact.
Weapons were everywhere. Swords and simple axes seemed predominant, even on a few of the women. One fellow in an odd uniform was carrying at least four weapons openly, in fact: a sword, a dagger, a crossbow on his back, and what sure looked like a few throwing knives in leather slits on his torso. He had at least four more weapons hidden in his clothes, too.
Looking away from the walking arsenal, Freya spotted a few more men in the same uniform, and also armed, though none were as armed as he was. A local militia, maybe?
A door swung open behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see a crowd of rowdy men emerge from a large stone building, clearly drunk out of their minds. Freya eyed the sign over the door. It read, in hand-painted Juvjk: ‘The Swollen Head Tavern.’
“Charming,” she muttered.
The smell of roasting meat caught her nose. She looked across the square to see a small plume of smoke wafting from a building with a crude image of a loaf of bread on the sign over the door. Two armed guards were standing on either side of the door, too. Four men to guard a restaurant?
Her eyes settled on a clear red stain on the stone of the stage. An execution site, then. How macabre, she thought to herself.
“Coming through!” a rough voice from behind her said. Freya looked to see a man carrying a massive stone block moving quickly across the street. She stepped aside and let him pass, wondering what was up.
An entire procession of men with bricks, stone, and mortar followed. Freya watched them go, then discreetly followed. Her thick cloak let her blend into the general crowd as she indulged her curiosity.
She wrinkled her nose in concern as she took a more careful appraisal of her surroundings. The people around her were a mess, by their scents and sounds. Diseases, injuries, all manner of defects. Even hiver Terrans didn’t sound that bad, and neither had Nocturneans. Then, those worlds had hospitals.
The convoy of construction material ended at a large square depression at the outside of town, where a deep pit had already been dug. A basement with at least two floors had been built there, and the builders were assembling a ground floor now.
Freya stopped at the edge of the build site, mindful of traffic. “What’s going in here?” she asked one worker.
The rough man turned to her and snorted. “Haven’t you heard, woman? Eisker’s place burned down. He’s building another.” He peered at her under her hood. “The hell are you, anyway?”
Freya blinked, taken aback at his rudeness. “Just a traveler.”
He snorted again, swaggering a bit. “Sure you’re not here to take the edge off our labors?” he leered.
“In your fondest dreams,” Freya said darkly, turning and walking away.
Once he was out of earshot, she allowed herself a grimace. “If that’s how my people greet strangers, this isn’t going to be a fun vacation,” she muttered.
As she left, another man stepped to her side. “Did the thralls bother you, lassie?” he asked sternly.
“Thralls?” Freya asked. She glanced back at the men, and noted with some distaste that they all had thick scars around their wrists. The men were slaves. “No, that’s fine. I’m leaving anyway.”
“Mmm.” The man turned away and cracked a whip over the offender’s head. “Back to work, you lazy sodomite!”
Furia awoke several hours after afterwards, sprawled on her bed. She felt tired, even though she knew she had slept more than what was normal for herself. Her head turned to the clock at the side of her bed and groaned loudly.
It was past five o'clock in the afternoon, making it nearly six hours after she had been tased. It was never normal for them to sleep more than four hours, so having slept nearly five made her feel strange.
She blamed the blood loss, which was still making her feel woozy as she tried to sit up on her bed. As well, the pain through her arms were slowly returning, signalling the end of the medication the doctor had given her.
She ran her hand through her hair as she surveyed her room. As always it was messy and disorganized, just the way she liked it. It wasn’t completely out of order though. She knew where everything was and that was enough for her.
She edged to the side of her mattress and let her feet touch the small carpet at the side of her bed. She hadn’t even slipped out of her clothes when she arrived, which didn’t bother her at all.
Sitting on the side of her bed, she glanced around again, thinking she had forgotten something. Sure enough, she found it laying on her nightstand. Both pill containers were there. One for her pain, the other for her anger.
She opened the painkiller one first and immediately took one, wanting to ease away the growing pain in her arms. Swallowing it easy enough, she close the cap and placed it back beside her bed, waiting for the effects to kick in.
She stared at the other container, less eager this time around. She grabbed it slowly and turned it around in her hands. “Xelaratin...” she muttered, pronouncing every syllable slowly as she read the label displayed on the side. Sure enough, there was little detail she understood from the medical description.
She sighed, placing it back on the side of the bed. She would cross that bridge later.
A knock came from her door. She paused, wondering if she should make it seem like she was still asleep. She wasn’t in the mood for talking with most people. Still, a part of her said she shouldn’t let this one go. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Simon.” She recognized the voice immediately to be his and was a bit happy that she followed her gut.
“Come in.” The door creaked open as the brown haired youth walked in. He looked at her, a bit distressed and she smiled weakly. “I ain’t dying Simon, so don’t look at me like that.”
“Uh, yeah,” he muttered. He looked as tired as she did. “Sorry I wasn’t there with you in the hospital. I tried getting in but the guards were less than welcoming. By the time I got to your room, you were long gone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied quickly. “I was busy with other things. You been here long?”
“Past hour,” he responded, “I came here expecting the same treatment from before, but your dad had a “friendly” conversation with the guards. They let me in immediately.”
She chuckled at that, knowing full well what that entailed from her dad. Simon walked over and sat beside her. “So, what happened?”
She grunted as she reached for the Xelaratin bottle, handing it him. “Goodbye the angry Furia, thats what.”
“They are going to medicate you?” he remarked, clearly surprised by the idea. She nodded slowly, frowning at the idea itself.
“Yep. If I don’t, next time they might not be able to protect me.”
“Fuck,” replied Simon. “That’s one crazy ultimatum.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what to do,” she muttered. He shrugged beside her.
“This might be a good thing. Get rid of those angry tendencies once and for all, you know?”
“Angry tendencies?” she said quickly, turning to her boyfriend with her eyes furrowed. “Fuck Simon, he was one of our muggers from the alley.”
“Wait, what?” he blurted out, surprised once more. “From our mugging? One of them got away?”
“Yeah, and he was too big of a fucking idiot to leave the hive. He probably wanted to kill me to avenge his friends.” She paused, her hands clenching once more. “I could have almost killed him Simon. I could have ended it right there,” she whispered.
“You killing someone?” he implored. “No, I don’t think you could have Furia.”
“Bullshit. I can guarantee that Hana and Freya would have done the same thing. Fuck this shit.” Furia burrowed her head into her bandaged hands. Thankfully, the pain medication had kicked in.
“So I take it you didn’t?” Simon asked, but he could probably guess the answer if she was right beside her instead of somewhere with more security.
“No, I was stopped before I finished the job. I had my hands around his throat,” she said, extending her arms around her and a squeezing her hands, demonstrating to Simon. “I could hear his heart slowing down, his breath running out. I could feel him dying in my own hands and I did not stop.” Her hands turned to fists as she slammed her legs in anger, maybe to herself for nearly killing him, maybe for not being able to.
Silence followed for several seconds as Simon had to rethink the entire situation. He put his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort the emotional redhead.
“Come on, look positively on this. You can finally control your rage with this.” He shook the tiny bottle beside her.
“I don’t fucking need control Simon,” she growled out. “What, does my anger bother you?”
“Of course not,” he blurted out quickly. “I’m just saying it could improve your relations with other people, like your family.” Simon was having a tough time salvaging the conversation. Usually he could make her see his logic, but this time around he was doing a very poor job of things.
She turned her head, clearly getting angrier every moment that passed. “Fuck you, Simon,” she snapped. “Me being angry or not isn’t going to change what I think of my cousins. They are all bitches, remember? Even if I was a fucking pacifist isn’t going to change that I don’t like them. At all.”
“You don’t mean that,” he muttered. Furia grabbed the pill container from his hands.
“I do. I mean every word of it,” she hissed. She shook the pills in front of him. “These fucking things won’t change that. I. Fucking. Hate. Them.” Simon’s jaw dropped, unable to answer to the seething hatred she was showing her. She got up and walked to her bathroom, pausing at the door.
while I have very much been enjoying this,
>"she was showing her"
either Simon is a very convincing reversed trap or you need to watch your pronouns better
Shit, you found out about my secret plot device. Simon is a girl n shit. Guess I better stop the story since you figured it out.
On a more serious note, thanks for finding that typo!

Simon stood up, realizing he had a final chance of salvaging the situation. “Furia, wait. I-” he started, but she turned back at him, giving him the angry stare he used to get from her when they had first met. He stopped mid sentence, feeling a cold chill go down his spine as he no longer had the balls to speak.
She glared at him for several seconds before speaking. “Just leave Simon,” she muttered as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
She paused over her sink, listening carefully to the silence surrounding her. Sure enough, she heard him walk towards the bathroom and pause. She could imagine him wanting to knock on the door, say something to calm her down. She wished he had, she might have listened for a second.
But instead, regular old Simon came up as he walked away from her. She sighed as she heard the door open and close soon after, telling her he had left entirely. For a second she felt relieved that she was alone, not wanting to deal with the .
Then it hit her. As Furia looked at herself in the mirror, she realized she had just spat in the face of one of the few people she actually cared about, who genuinely loved her.
Anger once again raged through her, but this time she was the target of her own fury. A part of her wanted to drop all the blame on Simon, for not understanding, for not giving away like he always did. He should have just nodded and understood the situation she was in, be the obedient pup she had come to expect from him.
But another part of her knew the truth. She was to blame for all this, not Simon. She began to slowly realize that there was indeed a problem if she was getting angry at him of all people.
I promised earlier that I would do a review for AA. Just like any good medicine, I'll give the sugar before the bitter bits.

I liked how you made Julius and Ahriman real living characters, not some omnipotent protagonists who do not ever make mistakes. Flawed as they are, they are believable.

Your cliffhangers are extremely well placed as well. Keep that up. The stopping points for each character arcs are placed in such a manner that you can't help but want to learn more. I seriously can't wait to find out what happens to Julius and summar now.

With regards to the other half, I think you might want to check your usage of punctuations. For instance in the following sentence :
>Several tears painted streaks down her cheeks. He knew that feeling, he had been harbouring it himself the past few weeks, and he didn’t like seeing it.

you could change the first comma to a single word 'as'. There are other instances where you could replace a comma with a full stop/period instead as well.

There's a sentence as well that I do not really understand. I'm not sure whether you're missed a word while typing it. Is is the following sentence:
>It grew stronger; we came together in a relationship that despite there being no physical intimacy was considered one of the bedrocks of our scholum.

The following sentence could also benefit from a slight change to it's structure. I bracketed the changes in the quote.
> When we first started getting serious, there was an incident when she wanted something from me [that] I couldn’t give [remove 'her'], and I had to refuse her.

Other than that, keep up the good work! :D I'm looking forward to reading more :D
In her hand was the bottle of Xelaratin. Apparently a magical drug that was here to fix all her problems if she cave in to its use. The same part of her that blamed Simon screamed out to her, telling her to not to give in to the medication and the Treasury. The other side said that this was the only way to fix things, forever.
Opening the top cap, she reached in and took one of the small white pills out. Although she did have choices, she felt that this was the only one without losing everything she cared about.
She popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed it. The bitter taste remained for several minutes as she sat on the bathroom floor, thinking on the future.
okay, having read this I can't help making comparisons to Xanax, and I have to ask.
Have you or someone you know actually been prescribed Xanax or a similar drug?
Because I'm really liking this story, but as someone whose on medications I would really like this to be handled well.
I've known some people who take medication for psychological problems (ADHD, anxiety, stuff like that), but I've never heard of Xanax before.
I tried my best to do some research on the topic, but I had to use my imagination on what it would be like to use something like what I put into the story.
If you got some info you'd like to share, I'm down to hear it. The IRC server is Rizon, channel $writescribbles
cool cool, you don't have to base it off a real drug (it's scifi after all). I just wanted to make sure you have some idea about psychological medications. I'll hope on IRC
Let's try again, shall we?


The Defence Laser bunker compound was an empty shell, abandoned and sealed off before Imperial Forces finished evacuating the outer city. Because everything had been either destroyed or sealed off, the Orks had found nothing worth looting and had left it alone. However there was one thing they had both leant after fighting Orks for nearly a month, if there’s one Ork around there’s bound to be more.

Julius led the way, Hellpistol in hand and finger on the trigger ready at the slightest movement, while Summer covered the rear with her Lasgun. They were both on edge, eyes scanning every nook and cranny in case a foe was hiding before them. The sea breeze moaned as it passed between the buildings and over the walls, an eerie, empty sound which didn’t make things any better.

Swiftly and silently they made their way across the compound towards the main entrance bunker, following the trail of Summer’s mystery Ork. The sun was rising, and soon it would be dangerous to be in the open, in case of Ork spotters.
When Julius spotted a shadow behind one of the buildings, and got close enough to get a look, Summer was proved right. There was a lone Ork making its way across the compound. It wasn’t walking with the normal, vaguely simian loping gait an Ork had, its movements were unnaturally smooth and fluid, even more so than the Eldar. It was heading towards the main entrance bunker, the barricades in front of the door torn down by the Orks and the sentry guns looted, but the reinforced blast doors still shut.

“What is it thinking?” Summer whispered to Julius, who could only shrug. There was no way it could open those doors, not on its own, especially if they had been sealed shut.

It ended up standing directly outside the door, and as he watched it banged on the door with the back of its axe. Nine times. Afterwards, Julius would swear the axe head glowed as it was doing so. With a harsh moan the armoured blast doors began to open. Julius recoiled at the loudness of the grating sound of the doors opening, and he felt Summer behind him, her presence holding him steady. Every Ork for miles would be attracted by that sound, they didn’t have long.
When the doors were open it disappeared inside. Julius suddenly felt like he didn’t want to follow it, but Summer was already halfway there, and he wouldn’t leave her.

“Oll, look!” She whispered harshly, gesturing at the doors as they reached them. The doors had been welded shut, and yet it had opened anyway. That ‘something is not right’ feeling Julius had from the moment he had first seen the Ork was only growing stronger. The mouth of the bunker yawned like some entrance into hell, and Julius hesitated to enter. Summer looked back at him.

“Come on Oll, you’re not one to back down. You’re the one who turned us from a scared bunch of civilians into guerrilla fighters. Don’t let a lone Ork scare you.”

It’s not just a lone Ork, Julius wanted to yell. But that was just a gut feeling, and it could all too easily be wrong. He’d been wrong before, and this time he hoped he was wrong, overreacting over something as mundane as a single Ork scout they could easily dispatch.
They crept through the empty corridors, trying to keep the sound of their footsteps to a minimum. They followed the Ork through every twist and turn of the labyrinth of corridors, Julius trying to remember where they were so they could escape afterwards. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped down here in the claustrophobic depths.

They emerged into a massive space, filled by the gargantuan form of the Defence laser itself. Cables and conduits covered the floors while the massive chains and hoists used to move the weapon into firing position lined the walls. Emergency lighting gave the place a gloomy air, the air of failure and defeat. The Ork was powering its way to where all the cables met, the door separating the main weapon from its power source, an integral Plasma Reactor, now shut down and decored so the Orks couldn’t reactivate it.

They crouched down behind a power box, watching as the Ork reached the reactor entrance doorway. Julius was about to ask Summer what she thought it was doing, when it started to straighten up, like a crouching human.
The Ork rose to an impossible height, and as it did its skin split like an over-ripe fruit and fell to the floor with a wet ‘splat’ sound, gore splashing the floor. Bile rose in Julius’s throat, a flood of disgust at what he had just witnessed, something totally unnatural.

A creature from the darkest nightmares of man now floated amidst the wreck of the body it had stolen, like a poisonous jellyfish shifting in invisible winds. It was clad in a blue cloak, which covered its body like a shroud. The robes were covered in runes which hurt Julius’s eyes to look at, while a pendant in the shape of a curling rune with an eye in the centre hung from what passed as its hip. The axe was now a tall staff tipped with the skull of some great bird long dead held in one arm; with on the other side of its body another three arms traced symbols into the air with fire which lingered like some mad sparkler.

His body convulsed with fear. Not the normal fear, the primal, inner fear, the fear of the dark and the unknown, a fear known to man since the earliest days on ancient Terra. He wanted to puke; he could barely keep himself from retching. Julius reached down and grasped the Crux around his neck tightly, an instinctive gesture of protection as he struggled to keep his composure. Beside him, Summer had gone as white as a sheet, and she was mirroring his action with the Aquila around her neck.
Julius had never seen such a thing before, but he had heard of it, in the darkest depths of Warp Studies class, when even Professor Ahriman had been reduced to a dry whisper as he spoke about the darkest things hiding in the void, and the powers that commanded them. He had hoped he would never have to see such a thing, but his wish was now dust. He wanted to run, to get as far away from that thing as possible, but he couldn’t stop looking. His eyes hurt, his mind was blank, his conscience screaming into the void as his sanity tried to flee. Part of him wanted to pull out his pistol and destroy it, part of him wanted to run and run and not look back. And most sinister of all, part of him wanted to be like it, to have all that power at his command. Power that could so easily be his, if only he wished for it…


Can anyone guess what Daemon it is?
Finally by a supreme force of will he drove those polluted thoughts from his mind and broke free from the sight of the thing, and urgently he tugged at Summer.

‘We have to go’ he whispered to her. She did not respond, she was silently murmuring a prayer.
‘Come on, we have to go, before it notices us!’ he tried to impart as much urgency into his voice, as he continued to tug at her. Finally she too broke free of the creature’s strange spell, stared at him wide eyed, and together they crept out of the cavernous space as fast as they dared. Julius’s heart was in his mouth, he felt that any second the thing would notice them, and they would die. But it seemed luck was on their side, as they got out safely. Once they were far enough away, they broke into a run.

They didn’t stop until they were nearly at the surface, whereupon they collapsed from exhaustion, slumped against the walls.

“By the Throne, what in the God-Emperor’s name was that thing?” Summer forced out. She was clearly shocked; she would normally never be so open about her view of the Emperor.

Julius knew, but he didn’t want to say, for if he said it he would have to confront the unpleasant truth that hell was literally about to descend upon Seadelant, and once again he would be in the middle of it.
“Something bad. Something really bad.” He ended up saying.

“Worse than the Orks?” she pressed.

“Millions of times worse. Summer, what we saw was a nightmare, something from the blackest depths of the warp.” He took a deep breath. “A Daemon.” That word tumbled from his lips; bring with it all the horrors such a word entailed.

“A…Daemon? A creature of the…Primordial Annihilator?” She struggled to form words as she came to terms with the revelation. Julius couldn’t blame her; he felt the same way himself. At least he had the greatest Psykers in the Galaxy explain the powers and the dangers of Daemons to him, and he knew what he was dealing with.

None of that made him feel any better though.

“Summer, we have to get back to the bunker. We need to inform the others, and decide what to do next. Having a Daemon here changes everything.”

“How so?” She asked. Julius knew a few scenarios, each worse than the last. And there were doubtless even worse ones he was not privy to.

“You don’t want to know, but knowing you you’ll ask anyway.” She smiled at his statement. The last thing he wanted was to put her in peril. “I’ll tell you all once we get back to the bunker. God willing, we’ll get there fast.”

“The Emperor protects.” She said.

“The Emperor protects those who protect themselves; though I hope you are right. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

A bad one
All right, us North Americans are clocking out.
They made good time heading for the Bunker, carefully negotiating the winding streets, eyes ever alert for Orks, or worse. That fact they had to keep their eyes open for worse made Julius distinctly uneasy. He though he’d known what he was dealing with, he thought it was nothing more than Orks out to find another fight, but now that had gone out of the window. Now there was all matter of sinister implications that came with having a Daemon or maybe more than one Daemon loose on Seadelant.

“Oll, watch where you’re going.” Too late, Julius walked smack into a lightpost and fell to the ground, dazed. As Summer helped him up, he cursed his lack of attention.

Too many worst case scenarios were now pulsing through Julius’s mind, too many theories about what the Daemon meant, what it was doing on Seadelant, what it wanted to achieve. There were only two beings on this planet who could properly appreciate what it meant to have a Daemon around. And they were separated by a wall and several million angry Orks.

The still air was split by the scream of falling shells and the distant howl of Orks. They had been fighting long enough to know what that meant: the Orks were making another push on the walls, and Imperial Artillery was now falling upon them in a rain of explosive death. Useful cover, they could sneak back to the bunker with the Orks distracted by the goings on at the Walls.
It's the Changeling, isn't it?
Poor Freya, she should've picked a larger settlement and get a larger variety of people to interact with. I can't say that I disagree with this notion though
> “Sure you’re not here to take the edge off our labors?”
But I am eager to see where this leads.
I think that Simon acts believable for a teenager. He don't know (or is clumsy) what to say to calm Furia down and he hasn't picked up on all the female double speak (don't come near me now, but you totally should!). And I think you make a good job of conveying Furias apprehension of taking the pill.
They turned the next corner and were confronted by over a hundred Orks, making their way to the walls. Julius didn’t know who was more surprised, them or the Orks. For a few seconds they just stood staring at each other. But it was the Orks who recovered first, and weapons raised they threw themselves at the pair of Humans who had blundered into them.

“Run!” Julius shouted as he turned and fled, Summer right behind him. From the pounding of boots coming from behind him, the Orks were not about to let them escape. Of all the things that could have happened to them, walking into a mob of Orks was one of the worst.

“We…can’t…run…forever.” Summer panted as they belted down yet another side road. Julius agreed. There was no way they could outrun a hundred Orks, and fighting them would be suicide. There had to be a third option and glancing at the Habs flanking the road and their shape and spacing in particular as he ran past, he saw one. A reckless one, a dangerous one, but a way they could give the Orks the slip and get back safely.
“Quick, in here.” He gestured to an abandoned Hab, the door hanging off its hinges. She gave him a questioning look but followed him inside. He led her up through the building, kicking down shelves and moving chairs to create as many barricades as possible, until they reached the exterior landings which circled the pyramid roof, where people grew pot plants and rested in happier times.

“Um, Oll?” she asked as the Orks followed them into the building. “What do we do now? The Orks are right behind us, and they’ll be on top of us before long. Do we fight them?”

“No, we Jump.” With that, he turned, ran and leapt off the building. For a second he fell through the air before impacting on the sloped roof of the next-door building, rolling to ensure he took the landing without breaking any bones. He’d been taught that skill at one of the youth military camps when they were teaching urban warfare strategies, where he and Andrew had competed to see who could jump the furthest. He never thought back then that he would be using that skill to evade Orks on a faraway planet.
He slid down to the landing, got up and gestured at Summer, beaconing her to follow him. Summer looked at him like he was insane, but a second later she leapt after him. She landed safely, and he helped her up as the first Orks exited onto the landing. They gestured angrily as the Humans disappeared into the adjacent Hab, some of them firing randomly with Sluggas and Shootas. They powered through the Hab as fast as possible to the other side, and with another leap they jumped over to yet another house lining the street. Julius wondered if kids used to do this in peacetime, jumping from Hab to Hab, going up and down the streets without once touching the ground.

By the time they reached the forth Hab, they’d left the Orks well behind. Julius could hear them howling in frustration somewhere behind him. They nipped out of the Hab and crept away.

“Once again Oll, you save the day. Where would I be without you?” Summer beamed as they stopped. Julius returned the smile, thankful that they had got away. Yet another close shave. Too close this one. It was getting harder and harder to get around in the occupied outer city, and before long they would be confined to the bunker.

Now all they needed to do was get their bearings, find a sewer entrance, and make their way back.
Nearly half an hour later, they returned to the Bunker. They found the others waiting for them in the entrance space. Flynn as always started off. “Seriously, if you two wanted some alone time, you could have simply asked us. You don’t need to leave the bunker, exposing yourself to the Orks.”

Julius scowled at Flynn’s grin, before bringing up the important point. “Scvott, Flynn, Dyllion. Something has come up, something bad. Really bad. We need to discuss it right away.”

They peered at him quizzically, turned to Summer to see her expression matching Julius’s, and then Scvott nodded. They all turned and headed for the briefing room.


Ahriman trooped slowly back to the PDF command centre, Helmet still tucked under his arm, feeling the rain splash upon his face and patter off his armour. The rain was an apt reflection of his thoughts, his feelings. He hadn’t felt this way in several thousand years, not since the incident on Aghoru when he had thought the Primarch had been killed by the Daemon beneath the mountain. That man had touched him with his honest and fearlessness in the face of adversity, and now he was dead, his spirit lost to the warp. He was one of thousands who had died, and their sacrifice more and more seemed to be in vain. Things were not looking good.
The PDF command centre was as busy as ever, casualty reports coming in and fresh orders being sent out. Ahriman noticed several steaming bomb craters nearby and the tail section of an Ork Fighta-Bommer sticking out of the side of a nearby building. The Orks had tried hitting here too.

He strode in, pools of water mixed with blood left behind from every bootstep. Everyone could see how angry he was, see the glossy crimson coating his armour and feel the force of his aura upon them, and they all kept well away.

All heads turned as he strode into the command room, and several of the aides auras flickered fearfully as they saw the gore splattered Astartes warrior, looking more like a World Eater than a Thousand Son.

“Lord Ahriman, I…”

“Spare me. Casualty report?”

An aide ran over and swiftly handed him a note, which he snatched from the poor man’s hand. Three hundred and seventeen killed, a further hundred injured. This was the worst raid in weeks. The Orks were getting bolder; they knew their victory would come soon.

The Governor tried to talk with him. “My Lord, things are becoming desperate. Morale is sinking fast, we’ve had to cut the artillery expenditure again by half, and there is still no word of any relief effort. If things don’t change, I fear the inner city will fall within a month, and the whole planet soon after.”
“Seadelant is one of the top twenty trade route hubs in the entire Imperium. They will not leave us to die here, they can’t. Not unless the Emperor wants to have half of Segmentum Solar rebel for want of food and raw materials.” Ahriman was gruff, blunt. He didn’t want to have to think about the alternative, that the Imperium would arrive too late and it would have to be an invasion, not liberation.

“There is more, my lord. Lyleith, our chief astropath has felt something in the warp.” She moved aside and the Astropath stepped forward. Ahriman briefly wondered why the entire ruling body of Seadelant was female, but her words knocked that thought out of his head.

“You can feel it, can’t you? Your power is greater than mine. The warp is stirring, something big is about to happen.” She spoke true, too damned true. Recently he had felt the normally still surface of the Great Ocean start to ripple, like a storm was brewing, something stirring in the depths. None of this made Ahriman feel any better. Trakeria saw his gloomy expression, and capitalised on it.
4chan thinks the next section is Spam, so I'm posting it in my talk page. It's very important to the story unfortunately.

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>deamon on the loose
>breaking out emergency deathstrikes
pic very much related
“Why wasn’t I informed earlier?” he pressed, his anger seeping from his rigid control. If he had been able to use them before the outer walls had fallen…

“They were destined for the Cadian Gate, and were deemed to important for general deployment. I promise you the Caorst Master of Ordinance will be thoroughly disciplined for this when the battle is over.” Trakeria was almost gloating, the chance to lord it over regular Army troopers dancing in her mind. Before Ahriman would have come down on her for it, but now he was too tired and unsure to worry. To hell with her, he had a war to win.

“What Warheads do we have at our disposal?”
“Boosted Plasma Fusion Warheads. All the power of an Atomic Warhead with none of the radiation or fallout. Each is dialled to one hundred kilotons. Between them we could break the back of the Ork Siege, kill tens of millions of the Greenskin scum, and throw them back.”

Ahriman brought up the schematics for the planned warhead strikes, and stared at them with concern. “The entire outer city would be levelled in the blast, and we know there are survivors in there.”

“If we don’t do this, there will be no survivors regardless. You are Astartes; surely you see that the needs of the many have to outweigh the needs of the few?”
They did, but Ahriman couldn’t shake off the feeling that those survivors, whoever they were, were important in some way to the future of this war. Something was linking them and their efforts in the occupied outer city to the overall fate of Seadelant, but he couldn’t find the connection. He couldn’t find any connection, his future sight was almost totally gone. It even felt like his own fate was no longer under his control.

“My Lord? What are your orders? Do we deploy the Deathstrikes or not?” he didn’t want to have to answer that question, hell he didn’t want to have to weigh the fate of an entire planet and all its inhabitants. All he wanted to do was to get away, re-connect with himself and expunge his failure back on Terra. Now it seemed he was bringing his failure with him. He had to succeed; he had to show them he was no has-been and beat these Greenskin Invaders.

Ahriman spat out two words.

“Do It.”

Oh no! Julius!!
And that dear friends, is a wrap. I literally have nothing more left to post.

I hope there are a few out there who like my 'NobleDark' slant, and please comment as always.

There's a few links to events in 'Bleeding Out' in my story, I'm suprised no-one has found them yet.

Keep the thread alive for the Yank and Quebecois when they arise.
>Keep the thread alive for the Yank and Quebecois when they arise.
Sure thing
You can't just leave off like that! Now i'll go around all day thinking of what will happen to Julius and the rest.

anyway, keep being awesome dude!
bumping to keep thread solvent. Gaaah AA! don't keep giving us cliffhangers! I feel as if I'm gettin blueballed all the time when i read your writing
>larger settlements
It's Fenris, this is practically a city.

But I live once more! Posting a bit more of her story once I get my faithful old storage drive online.
Remilia snuggled into the thick blankets on her bed and closed her eyes, listening to the music on her slate play in the background. She had made the requisite noises of approval at the puppy pictures and watched a few movies with Alex before Jake and Venus returned from the observation deck. The two had both been a bit weepy, but Venus especially was also beatifically happy about something, so Remilia took it as a good sign.
Now, with lunch behind her and a lazy afternoon ahead, she relaxed on the bed and listened to the slow music linger in the room. She read the messages on the slate – a delighted response from the Mechanicus station and routine announcements in the Fang – and opened an orbital map of the planet.
She scrolled around the 3D map, staring at the endless fields of snow and waters fifty times deeper than mountains on her homeworld. Remilia tapped a rune on the side of the slate, and the view drew closer to the surface. The Fang looked like a spike, emerging from the ground to impale the sky. It stood alone on their continent, with no other settlements nearby. A blurred spot on the map looked like it was probably a Wolves training camp, though.
Remilia noted the basalt pillars they had climbed the day before with a smile. “They look even taller from here,” she chuckled.
Freya ducked into the place with the bread symbol over the door with a shake of her hood. She pulled it back and let her red hair escape as she glanced about, taking in the smells, sounds, and sights of the place in an instant.
The place had a few open stone ovens at the back, where sizzling meat was cooking over wood and coal. A rowdy gang of men with matching tattoos were squabbling over a large map on a table in the corner. Small groups of well-muscled women and older children were picking through wooden and metal bins of uncooked foods around the edges of the room.
Freya walked through the large room, earning a few lingering stares with her appearance. As she reached the back of the room near the stoves, she spotted what looked like a menu hanging from the ceiling. She eyed it quickly, matching the amounts to the coins in her pouch. She was in no danger.
A man with his sleeves rolled up to his biceps stood beneath the sign. “What’ll you be having, lass?” he asked.
Freya shook her head. “Just looking, friend, I’ll be back for an actual meal tonight.”
“No, you won’t,” the man said curtly. “Not in that,” he added, gesturing at her clothes.
Freya narrowed her eyes. “Explain.”
The man snorted in annoyance at her naïveté. “You a traveler?” he asked.
“I am.”
“Then you’ll not be seen tonight,” the man warned. “The warbands will be coming home tonight, and no pretty lass like yourself will be seen on the streets if she wishes to be safe.”
Freya reached down to the two-foot-thick stone countertop between them and pressed down, with most of her superhuman strength. The mortaring audibly creaked. “I’ll be all right,” she promised coldly. She turned to leave after committing the menu to memory. “See you tonight,” she said.
She reached the door and turned, continuing her exploration. A simple-looking building of wood and brick caught her attention next. A wood building on Fenris. How peculiar, she thought to herself as she wandered over. The sign over the door read ‘House of the Kindred.’
Freya glanced through the door. Four men stood within, pouring over a massive scroll on a wide tabletop against the far wall. One, a burlesque old fellow with an axe-scar down his arm, noted her. “What do you want, lass?” he asked, though not unkindly.
“I apologize, I’m simply curious,” Freya said, looking around. “Mijagge kovness an?”
“Ah! Curiosity. A trait all too rare. May as well come in,” he said. Freya did so, taking stock of the man’s companions. One was nearly his age, and had a ragged crop of grey hair atop his scarred head, while the other two were mere boys, no older than she was. All four had some scars and cuts on their hands, but they didn’t look like war wounds. “About what are you curious?” he asked, wiping his hands on a cloth.
“I’m a traveler from far north of here, and I was stopping in town for some fresh food when I saw this place. I’d never heard of it,” Freya said. “What is the Kindred?”
The second older man sighed. “We, lass, are the last keepers of the thing that keeps the Krennir from falling into ruination.” The first man glared at him in recrimination.
“Olag, show some respect.”
“Fine, fine, Aron,” the second man said. He huffed. “We’re the keepers of the records, lass, for the Krennir clan.”
“The records…of what?” Freya asked. She pulled her hood back down and walked over to the fireplace in the corner, coughing on the rich scent of the coals.
“You are from far away, aren’t you, lass?” the second one, Olag, asked, peering at her. “The records of the clan. The old families are too spread out. Nobody knows our own history hereabouts! The least we can do is keep the stories alive,” he scoffed, tapping the massive scroll. Beneath the table, she saw, were at least ten more just like it.
One of the younger men turned back to the scroll, rolling it shut a little and picking up a quill. The other flushed bright red as he stared, completely unabashed, at Freya’s tight, muscled legs, luxurious red hair, and shapely curves. Freya noticed and hid a smile. Fenrisian boys, it seemed, were no different than Terran boys where it mattered.
“Have you found something more interesting than your job, Adric?” Aron asked drily.
The boy started and hastily turned around, scrabbling for a quill. Aron chuckled and returned to his own works.
Olag dropped a chunk of wood on the fire and huffed on the embers. “Ever try keeping parchment and deerskin dry in a glacier’s path, lass? It’s not cheap,” he grumbled.
Freya smiled. “No doubt, sir.” The rolls of parchment under the table weren’t the only thing in the room, either. The walls were completely covered in pelts and woven tapestries, flags and trophies. A Thunderwolf head surrounded by over two dozen small scales from what looked like a Kraken decorated the space over the fireplace. The rough-hewn wooden walls has splotches of some chemical or dye on them in places, presumably to close up gaps caused by rot. “Would you be willing to tell me some of the tales you’ve stored?”
“Normally, yes, lass, I’d love to, but under the circumstances…we’re just too busy,” Olag sighed. “Perhaps if you were to return in a few months, when the construction is finished, we could speak further?”
“What construction?” Freya asked.
“Why, the new building,” Olag said. “These cordwood walls weren’t built properly,” he grumbled, poking the splotchy materials. “If we unseal any of the scrolls, they could be damaged. We’re only working on this one because it was already opened.”
“Ah.” Freya glanced over the surface of the massive scroll. “Hmm. A recounting of a territorial dispute?” she asked.
All four men turned to look at her. “Why…yes, it is, lass, how did you know?” Aron asked.
Freya awkwardly shrugged. “I can read.”
“Well…good on you, lass, few others hereabouts can,” Aron said.
“My father said it’s one of the most important skills a person can learn,” Freya said.
Aron smiled. “He was right.”
As Freya turned to leave, Olag posed a question. “Lass, where exactly are you from? I mean no offense, but I don’t recognize your accent.”
Freya paused, racking her brain. “My father’s clan hails from Asaheim,” she said, naming the stable but barren continent to the far north. It was technically true.
“The Highest Peaks?” Aron asked. “You’ve travelled a far distance indeed, lass.” He glanced over her unusual hair and eyes again, clearly looking at her in a new light. “What brings you to our town?”
Freya spread her arms. “I haven’t travelled much. I just want to explore a bit.”
Aron crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head, staring at Freya’s face. For an instant, Freya wondered if he had figured out who she was.
“Well…have a fair stay, lass, and fair travels. May I have your name before you go?” he asked instead.
“Freya, daughter of Leman Hrodniksson,” Freya said. Her father’s adoptive father, the king of the Hrodniks tribe, had been dead for over three thousand six hundred years, it wasn’t a risk to say the name aloud.
She may have overplayed her hand, however. Aron’s eyes closed for an instant. When he opened them, his hands were clenched tight. “I see. Thank you for visiting, Freya,” he said. He turned back to the scroll without a word.
Freya left in silence, wondering with unease if she had gone too far in using her real name. After a moment’s indecision, she shook the feeling away. “No risk in a half-truth,” she said resolutely.
All right, folks, I'll be back in a few.
Bump for more. Keep up the great work guys
I wonder what he thinks of her. A liar perhaps? What happens next!?
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bumping with Furia
As the afternoon arrived, Freya wandered out to the outskirts of the little town. Life was clearly a struggle here, but children were children all over the galaxy. A massive battlefield in the snow outside the town bespoke a great conflict. There was no discarded weaponry or crimson snow, however, and the only fortifications were little piles of snow, with unused snowballs behind them. Mounds of icy missiles and the occasional outline of a fallen combatant littered the field.
Freya smiled. “Can’t have a winter without a real snowball fight,” she chuckled.
A faint scuffing behind her alerted her to the arrival of several dozen children. She stepped to one side of the road and watched as the throngs of kids – some no more than six, none more than fourteen years – ran past her, already calling challenges and insults. Clearly, this was a well-practiced game.
Freya leaned back against the wall of the building beside her and watched the spectacle. One group of industrious lads was packing snow into a wide ring, and fortifying it with more snow, dug from within the ring. They were crouching behind it and packing snowballs when the others caught on, and the group vanished under a barrage of impromptu ice grenades.
The Wolf Daughter grinned broadly as they boys retaliated, knocking one of their attackers back over a pile of snow of his own. The groups splintered and attacked, as several smaller kids wandered away to make snow Valkyries in the field outside or grew tired of the game and went back to wherever they had come from.
A harried-looking woman in thick grey robes and boots huffed up beside Freya. “Sakes of the ancestors, I’m not getting younger,” she panted. “Teach me for getting in their way.”
Freya drew her hood back up and nodded politely. “Are you their teacher, miss?” she asked.
“Aye, one of them.” The two women watched as a pair of girls packed a massive snowball between them and hurled it sideways into the melee. It broke apart over another combatant’s back, and the girls ran off giggling.
“Enthusiastic, aren’t they?” Freya asked.
The teacher snorted. “If only they learned the ways of war as easily. When their fathers come home from the campaign, it’ll be back to real learnings.”
“Oh? They have nobody to teach them how to fight or scout while the men are away?” Freya asked.
The teacher looked at her funny. “Lass, I don’t know how it works in your kin-hold, but around here, the campaigns never last the year. They just leave the poor things in my care while their fathers go off and hunt or fight.”
“And…their mothers?” Freya asked.
“They mend the homes.” The woman peered closer at her. “Where are you from?”
“Asaheim,” Freya said.
“Never heard of it.” The teacher examined her a bit longer before a loud shouting from the field drew her attention back. “Oh, come on…”
Two boys were going at it, fists flying. The others stopped their snow fight to watch as a circle appeared around them. One looked no older than ten, the other nearly a foot taller but a little younger. They weren’t even fighting, this was a brawl. One grabbed the other by the hair and tried to wrench it as the other clenched both hands around the first boy’s throat.
“What in the hell kicked that off?” Freya asked. “They’re going to kill each other!”
“I don’t even know. They’ve been at each other’s necks for days now!” The teacher groaned. “At least they’re outside this time.”
Blood splattered the snow as the taller boy managed to get a solid elbow strike into the shorter boy’s mouth. The youth staggered.
“So…should you stop this?” Freya pressed.
“I should, but those lads would turn on me if I tried to stop them,” the teacher said wearily.
“Want me to?” Freya offered. Her hackles rose – literally – as the taller boy pinned the other and started waling away on the prone one.
“Lass, if you think you can,” the teacher sighed.
Freya cracked her knuckles and crossed the battlefield unnoticed. Just as the taller one reached back to punch the prone one again, Freya grabbed his wrist.
“Desist,” Freya said coldly. “You’ve won.”
“Off me, bitch!” the boy growled. He tried to pull his hand free and found it locked in an inescapable vice. “I said GET OFF!” he roared, his voice breaking in anger. Then, he was ten.
“That’s what I was going to say,” Freya bit off. She pulled at the boy, enough to get him to rise, then locked her hand around his neck. She wasn’t clamping hard enough to choke him, but he could feel it.
He swung at her impotently, his fists skittering off of her Primarch muscle. “LET ME GO! HE DIES HERE!” the boy ground out through clenched teeth. The other boy slowly rose, nursing a bleeding gash on his jaw, his eyes pouring out liquid hate.
“For what?” Freya snarled, letting the barest hint of her canine legacy color her words.
“The whoreson insulted my father! I’ll RIP OFF HIS SKIN!” the taller boy roared.
“Your father was caught cheating at skillbones and you call me a whoreson for pointing it out?” the shorter boy managed through a split lip. “At least I know who my mother is.”
The taller boy screamed and tried to claw his way free, when suddenly Freya had had enough. Putting more than a little of her superhuman strength into the throw, she hurtled the taller boy away. He landed in a snowbank, sending snowy ejecta high. She wheeled over to the other and swept the legs from under him, toppling him back down with a yelp of pain.
“I don’t care who insulted whom, who cheated whom, and who has both parents,” Freya said coldly over the gasps of the other children. “You’ve no right to ruin everyone else’s fun.” She glared at the two boys, who were both rising, dazed. “You stupid children were going to kill each other. You think the Wolves come to collect the souls of those who die in a pointless scuffle? Play nice, or I’ll be back for you.”
She turned on her heel and walked back to the teacher, flexing her fingers to work the rest of her tension away.
The teacher gaped. “Now…I may not be a saddle-maiden any longer, I haven’t raised a blade in many years…but that was no ordinary throw, lass,” she said, boggling at Freya’s compact arms under the cloak.
“Anger gives you strength,” Freya said obliquely. “Maybe the shame of getting their dumb asses kicked by a girl will take the fight out of them,” she said a bit louder. A few of the female children sniggered.
The teacher looked out at the slowly-resuming snowball fight as the two boys wobbled away. “What did you say out there? Something about Wolves?”
“Yes,” Freya said. “Figured I may as well put the fear in them.” She grinned tightly. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Fear of what? Animals eating them?” the teacher snapped.
Freya blinked. “What do you mean? I was referring to the ones who come to collect the honored fallen, and take them to the skies.”
The teacher sighed. “You mean the Dead Guides?”
“I guess we call them something else back home,” Freya said. “What do your Dead Guides do?”
“They come amongst us in armor as black as night, with the heads of animals, and burning eyes, and take the fallen away, like you said,” the woman said suspiciously. She was giving Freya a look not dissimilar to the one the scholars had given her now. “Why?”
“Just curious. My people tell the same tale.” Freya shrugged again. “Well. I should go,” she said. She brushed snow off of her gloves and walked back up the street.
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>I should go

You'd be dead before you knew it. Fenris is listed in the Apocrypha of Skaros as one of the three most deadly and turbulent worlds inhabited by humanity. I can't really see that here sadly, which is a shame.
Uh, ok? Why are you telling me this?
>shoot Verner in the foot, knee his balls...
>shoot Verner in the foot, knee, his balls...
crucial comma makes difference

Sorry, thought you meant go to Fenris. My Bad.

But still, it doesn't feel like Fenris at all, not as hard and gloomy, every day a struggle for survival.
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SE? AA? DM? Are you guys still here?

if not, bumping with young freya to keep thread going
young freya officially wins the cuteness award of this thread

I'm here, but I'm out. I literally have exactly 48 words i haven't posted.
If anyone has any questions or feedback though...
I have a question. What are those 48 words?
Yeah, sure. Why not.

For most people at Imperator High, it was a common sight to see Furia with bandaged hands. She loved to fight, so no one seemed concerned because of her injuries. It was the fact that she was smiling slightly that made everyone concerned. People in the school, student or teacher, gave room as she made her way past them, all surprised by her happy behavior.

As she walked down the hallway, she didn’t care for the attention she was getting. For once she was in a good mood. She felt better since yesterday and had woken up energized. She had much to do that day, but was looking forward to all of it.

She arrived at her locker, a dented piece of scrap metal. Quickly unlocking the door, she quickly opened it and jammed her things inside. She had to see Simon before classes started or else she would feel worse about the situation. Unfortunately for her, a shadow loomed up beside her. She glanced and noted the worn leather jacket she knew all too well.

“Hey Furia, heard you had a run in with some Arbites. Nice job,” Hana teased. Furia smiled, knowing full well the sarcasm was dripping from her cousin’s mouth. Normally, this would be the time where she would be either yelling or punching the smart mouth biker beside her. But there was no adrenaline producing rage rising up from her. She felt calmer than she ever had in her entire life. She finally realized how much control she didn’t have when she was angry.

“Yeah, well, it was a pretty fucking stupid idea now that I look back at it,” she conceded as she finally found enough room in the locker to cram her jacket and bag inside. Hana was taken aback by her response. She had expected an angry outburst and instead wondered if she had confused the girl for someone like Farah.

Something to do with Daemons...
“Uh, yeah. You alright?” Hana asked her, concerned for a moment. There was obviously something wrong with the entire scenario compared to what usually happened. There would have been blood by now.
“I’’m fine, Hana. Now if you don’t mind, I got shit to do. You can try taunting me for a fight later alright? Maybe I’ll be more willing after school.” Before her cousin could say anything, she walked away. Furia felt slightly victorious in that engagement.
She had a couple minutes before class started, so she had to be quick. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for her to find Simon. She snuck up behind him as he seemed to be talking to some of his friends. His companions noticed her and grinned slightly as she put her index finger over her lips, signalling them to be quiet. Simon didn’t know what was happening until it was too late.
Grabbing him from the shoulder, she easily spun him around with one arm. He stared at her, shocked by her sudden appearance. She took advantage of his moment of surprised as she kissed him deeply. One of Simon’s friends whistled and they all chuckled at that.
She pulled away and smiled. “Hey,” she whispered to him alone. He began to talk but she kissed him to shut him up. She pulled back and this time he didn’t start talking immediately. “Sorry fellas, but I’m going to need to steal him for a bit,” she advised to the group. No one stopped her as she pulled him away to a side hallway. They were too busy trying to figure out how someone like Simon got to be with Furia.
When they were far away from the main hallway, she kissed him again. Simon was better prepared this time, returning the gesture. He eased her back and looked at her. “Furia, you’re smiling. In public.”
“Crazy huh?” she admitted. He paused, thinking it over in his head before he nodded. The gears in his head began to turn as he soon figured it out.
“The pills. You took the pill, didn’t you?” he asked her.
“Sharp as always, Simon,” complemented Furia.
“Why? You were so against the idea last night.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well when I push the only person I care about away, its time for a change you know?” She paused, looking at him. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I was being a bitch.”
“No,” he blurted out. “I didn’t know what to say. If I wasn’t such an idiot, I would have been more decisive. I wouldn’t have left.”
She smirked at that, knowing it was partly true. “It’s not important. You were right. From now on I’m going to be different.”
He nodded at her, seemingly pleased by her announcement. “That’s good news.”
“I already started. I didn’t yell at Hana at all today and she came to me for a fight. Pretty good huh?”
“How does it feel like?” he asked her.
She shrugged, thinking it over in her head on how she currently felt. “Its strange. I still have some anger at things, but I can skip over it. I just feel totally calm when it comes to the small things,” she explained. “I can actually sit down and do stuff without going crazy. I never notice how much my anger messed with me.”
He chuckled at that, nodding again. “Yeah, seems like you are already being productive with your time today.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” she started, reaching into her pocket. She took out a piece of paper from yesterday. “This museum exhibition, still wanna go?” she asked.

I know it doesn't much look like Fenris yet. Trust me, I know. We've got time. Bjorn would hardly have taken her to the roughest village on her second day home.

Wait until she goes Fenrisian Ice-fishing...
Fuck that, moar drama.

“Today?” he asked her.
“Sure. After school, I’ll come get you.” He nodded and she smiled in return. “Good.” The bell for class rang. A final kiss was all they shared as they both went to their studies.


Furia arrived home after school, in a hurry as she needed to prepare. She was supposed to pick Simon up in about a half hour, so she didn’t have much time to waste. Making her way into her room, she dropped her bag and looked around, planning out her steps.
She began to breath deeply for a moment, feeling hot for whatever reason. She noted that she had been sweating on the way home as well. She figured a shower first would be best, making her way into her bathroom.
Or so Furia tried as she stumbled her way to the door. She groaned, suddenly feeling much iller than earlier. Pain shot through her stomach as she buckled over unto the bathroom floor. Clawing herself to her toilet, she puked out her lunch into the bowl. For several seconds afterwards she emptied the occupants of her stomach until there was nothing left.
“Shit,” she commented, easing back a minute afterwards. She sat on the floor, wondering what was happening to her as her vision blurred. She didn’t move for over ten more minutes as the symptoms slowly eased off, most dissapearing.
Soon, she was able to stand as she surveyed her condition. She still felt hotter than normal and couldn’t focus as well. She made use of the sink, splashing water over her face to keep herself cool. It mildly helped for the moment. Staring at herself for several moments, she felt inclined to see her father.
She eased her way down the hallway, doing her best to focus on every step. It became easier as time went by, slowly making her way past the many other rooms in her house to her father’s study. Knocking on the door, she heard him grunt inside.
She eased the large gate open into his study, or if you could even call it that. Instead of being an office or a workplace, Angron came here to relax. The strong stench of alcohol and cigar smoke wafted over Furia, making her feel nauseous once more.
The large room was best described as being spartan. Angron had few pieces of furniture, mainly a single large desk, a few shelves and in the far back was a large bar type area. Like her own room, Angron didn’t try to keep himself organized at all. Over the limited surface space available was many stacks of paper, most old reports related to the legion. Corners of the room were populated by boxes of other reports, centuries old.
“Dad?” she whispered weakly into the room..
“What is it pumpkin?” he asked, not looking up from a report he was reading, a large cigar in his mouth.
“Uh, I don't feel so well.”
He chuckled at that. “You usually do this before you go to school, not after,” he joked.
“Yeah, well, my stomach contents thought it was a good time right now.” Angron looked up at her, suddenly realizing how weak she looked. She was leaning against the door frame, pale in comparison to her lively self.
“You vomited? What happened?” he asked as he stood up from his seat. He made his way over to her, placing his large hand on her shoulder.
“Not sure. I got home and felt sick in my room. Vision blurred, felt hot and then I puked.”
For a moment, Angron’s eyes widened as he stared at her, a very surprised look on his face. She barely noticed it herself before he went back to being worried. But she did see it. He nodded slowly, knowingly looking at her. “Could be from the blood loss. Or maybe its something you ate,” he said a moment later. “Some of that spicy food that you love. Easily could have caused all this.”
“I guess,” she muttered, not totally convinced herself. She usually ate very sickening food all the time and was never affected by it before. “What about the pills I’m taking? Did you have a similar reaction when you started?”
Angron shook his head very slowly. “No. Not that I know about,” he proclaimed. She nodded slowly, guessing he wasn’t affected by such trivial problems because of his physiology. “Go take a nap or something. Relax for the night.”
She was about to blurt out that she had plans with Simon, but knew better. His hand felt heavy on her shoulder. She glanced at it for a moment then back at him. He gave her the ‘I am in charge’ look to make it clear that she didn’t have a choice. Lifelong lessons of her youth told her that she knew better than to argue with her father.
“Yeah, okay,” she mumbled as she backed out of the room. As she left, Angron watched her walk down the hallway to her room and eventually closed his door, going back to his work.
Furia walked for a few more steps before arriving at her room. She opened the door and walked inside, closing it behind her.. She felt better than earlier, but still felt warm. Collapsing on her bed, she began to think of what just happened.
>wondered if she had confused the girl for someone like Farah.
It isn't Furia? And I will leave more in depth comments after I read everything.
Something was very strange about the entire talk with her father. She could tell that he wasn’t telling her everything, maybe even lying to her. There was still some recognition in his eyes when she described her situation. He knew something.
She was about to nod off to sleep when she could hear yelling down the hallway. It took her a second to recognize it to be her father’s voice, piercing through the many “soundproof” walls all the way to her room. He was clearly angry about something.
She stood up and stealthed her way to her door. The voice was becoming louder as she approached it. Carefully, she turned the knob and eased it open without making a sound.
The voice was becoming clearer now and she could hear him yelling to something. Must have been on his vox as he seemed pretty engaged into his conversation. Being careful to not make a noise, she closed her door and made her way closer to the study as she began to make details out from his conversation.
“...I don’t care if they affect me you fucking idiot. I care about it not affecting her. You gave me a promise that these things would be fixed by the time she started using them. You promised me that.” He paused for several seconds. Furia’s heart began to beat faster as she wondered if he knew, somehow heard her. He walked around his room and Furia was about to dash back to her own. Seconds later he began talking again, easing some her growing tension.
“So what you are telling me is that the new version didn’t fix all the problems? And why’s that?” She could hear Angron pacing around the room, knowing his anger was growing.
“Complications in the research? Behind schedule? Are you trying to use excuses to get out of this one?” He paused again, listening to the other side. “All I hear is you trying to get out of your responsibilities. What you aren’t telling me is how you are going to stop the same symptoms that affect me affecting my daughter. You had plenty of time to work out these fucking problems since I started. I don’t care what you have to do fix this, all I care about is results.” Silence filled the room again and she could probably guess a very nervous scientist on the other side was trying his best to tell her father what he wanted to hear.
“Let me give you some advice. If I find out you guys have been tricking me in the slightest, not even the Emperor himself will stop me from destroying you. Understood?”
She knew the conversation came to an end as she heard the vox smash into the wall in the study. She had to hurry and hide as heavy footsteps moved to the door of the study.
Her room was too far for her to get in, so she ran down past her door to where the hallway turned to another section of the house. Hiding behind the wall, she listened carefully as Angron opened the door and walked outside.
There was a pause as he slowly made his way towards her. She began to freak out, thinking she would be found out. Thankfully, Angron came to a pause in front of her room’s door and knocked. “Furia?” he said with a very quiet deep voice. Of course there was no answer.
She worried for a second that he would open the door and walk inside, but instead he sighed. He turned around and walked down the hallway back to where he came from. Eventually he disappeared around a corner and left Furia alone. She could only guess he was heading to the gym to blow off some steam.
She walked back into her room, a bit shaken from what she had heard. He had lied to her about everything. It seemed that whatever she was going through, he had the same effects as well.
And there might have been more affects that she didn’t even know about. She picked up the bottle of Xelaratin and stared at it. Somehow, she need to figure out what the pills really did to her before she got worse. Unfortunately, she didn’t know many scientists with access to Treasury research.
Her eyes suddenly widened as she realized she did. Looking at the many piles of clothes in her room, she started searching for a pair of pants she wore yesterday. Suddenly cursing her disorganized state, it was a couple minutes before she found the right one. Digging into the pockets, she took out a small piece of paper. “Dr. Elizabeth Chawas,” she muttered to herself.
Her vox suddenly went off, nearly giving her a panic attack in the silence of her room. She grabbed it and checked the number, and cursed immediately. She answered the call and put the device to her ear.
“Hey Simon,” she said quickly.
“Hey. We still on for tonight? You were supposed to be here by now.”
She sighed, not sure what to tell him at that point. “Uh, kinda. I came home and felt really sick. Let’s do it tomorrow, alright?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, clearly sounding worried. “You alright? Want me to come over?”
“I’m fine Simon. Must have been something I ate, you know?” She tried her best to give a reassuring voice. “I’m going to call it early tonight, get some sleep and see if I feel better by tomorrow.”
“Alright, call me if you need anything.”
They said their goodbyes and she hung up. She felt like shit for not telling him what was happening, but she needed more info before she could accuse anyone of anything. Looking at the card once more, she grabbed her car keys as she walked out of her room. Dialing the doctor's number, it rang for several moments before someone answered.
“Hello?” said someone, who she instantly recognized to be the doctor.
“Doctor Chawas? It’s Furia. Can we meet?”
There was a pause as the doctor suddenly realized who was calling. “Oh, Lady Furia. Yes, I am still at the hospital if you want to swing on by. Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Before the doctor could reply, Furia turned her vox off as she made her way to the front door. She stealthy treaded down the hallways of the house, knowing full where she needed to avoid to go on undetected.
Arriving to the entrance, she slipped on her leather jacket and opened the front door. In the driveway beside the other cars her father owned was her own, a beat up red modified gravcar. Although she could get better, she liked the enduring spirit that her own had. She wondered if she should drive in her condition, but her sudden focused self seemed to overtake any symptoms she was having.
Slipping into the driver seat, she quickly turned the car on and made off before anyone noticed and could stop her.


The drive was quick, especially with Furia behind the wheel. She had made it back to the hospital in record time, somehow managing to not get caught by arbites on the way there for speeding.
Unlike the last time she was here, the parking lot was not as vacant. Finding a parking spot after several minutes of searching, she made her way to the nearby elevator.
>Angron being angry at you
About three shithouses worth of bricks would be shat in terror

I kind of want to see a scare-a-thon between Angron, Kurze, Alpharius/Omegon, and Corax. Or their miniature variants.
I think Angron and Curze would compete for the 1st prize.
Well, the first three at least. Cora's consistently portrayed as an empathetic and likeable girl.

Omegan and Kelly, however...
A short ride up and she arrived to Doctor Chawas’ floor. It was much busier this time around as the Treasury wasn’t keeping the entire floor cleared. Medicae doctors filled the large hallway, running around with their work. None of them even stopped to pay attention to her, which she was thankful. As always, no one recognized her to be who she really was.
She made her way down to the doctor’s office, dodging traffic easily enough. She finally arrived to Elizabeth’s door and knocked loudly.
“Come in,” said a voice inside an instant later. Furia opened the door and walked inside.
She took a moment as she glanced around the room, taking it in. Like the rest of the hospital, the entire office was sterilized and clean. There was not a speck of dirt, nor any sort of disorganized behavior to be found.
The doctor sat behind a simple metal desk, typing away at her computer before she glanced up. “Lady Furia, its nice to see you. Take a seat, I’ll be done in a moment.”
Furia closed the door and sat down in one of the two small chairs in front of the desk. She glanced around some more, looking at the many diplomas that decorated the walls and the textbooks that filled the shelves. The doctor was apparently very knowledgeable in many fields of study.
“Alright Lady Furia,” the doctor said a moment later, “What can I do for you?”
Furia reached into her pocket and took out the pill bottle. “Its Furia, alright? And I came about this.” She slid the bottle over the desk. “What can you tell me about it?”
The doctor looked at the label. Her brow furrowed, shaking her head. “Where did you get this?”
“The Treasury official gave me those. Supposed to be an anger reducing medical alternative.”
“Yeah, if you want to lose a lot more than just your anger. Its meant to pacify someone who has violent... tendencies.” The Doctor paused as she looked up at Furia. “By Terra, they are making you take this,” she muttered, suddenly quite shocked.
“Not making me, but didn’t give me much of a choice,” she mumbled. “Why? What are the intended effect behind these pills? Side effects?”
The doctor sighed as she turned to her computer, typing away at the keyboard. Furia waited a moment before she stood up and leaned over the desk, trying to get a good look at the screen.
“Xelaratin is a product of a secret military research project,” Elizabeth started. “For the past decade scientist have been working and this is one of the few things they have been produced that meet their expectations.”
Furia looked at her strangely. “How do you know all this?”
The doctor paused for a moment, before talking a bit quieter. “I used to be part of the Imperial Army’s Medical Research board. This project among others was something that we had to keep track of its progress.”
“You used to be?” the redhead asked.
“Well, I began to question the morality of some of these projects and the generals found that to be against the ideals of the Imperial Army., so they assigned me to Terra to shut me up. Can’t complain really. Hive Tetra’s probably the best place to end up with a medical position. Very normal problems,” she said, but turned to Furia, “for the most part.”
Is it me or did the text concerning the drug just disappear?
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Thank you for destroying the illusion that we're perfect.
Do you have a larger version of that?

Panics over, the page didn't refresh with the text.
nope sorry. i found it in a WHH thread long ago, during it's humble beginnings
Furia nodded slowly. “So what was the point of the project?”
Elizabeth looked at her for a moment and back at the screen. “Well, the idea was based on how much the human body uses chemicals to communicate. We have always been able to use medication to help induce certain feelings in the human body, for example to counter depression or recreational drug use you can find on the street.”
The doctor leaned back into her chair, “The projects goal was a bit more ambitious than that. The group of scientists were trying to create an agent to control emotions on a person. For example, inducing fear on our enemies or making our troops be a bit more courageous.”
“That sounds pretty crazy,” Furia commented. “Wait, why are you telling me this?”
The doctor shrugged. “I don’t really care. It’s not like you’re a reporter or an enemy of the Imperium. Plus, you probably outrank me, so I need to tell you if you ask.”
She looked back at her computer, looking over the research files some more. “And it was crazy. After several years, we found out two things. First, trying to use chemical agents to control xeno species is next to impossible. Dark Eldar are immune to such attempts from years of drug use already. And orks are basically plants. The idea didn’t fit with them as easily.”
“And second?” the teenager asked.
“Second, human emotions are fucking complicated.” Elizabeth turned away from the computer and looked at Furia. “After nearly ten years the only success they had was inducing or reducing anger on a human subject. However before I left the board, I got a good look at some of the test results. They basically pointed out that by doing either, a wide variety of other effects would be included since targeting anger was incredibly difficult to begin with.”
Furia swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that this was about her. “What kind of effects?” she asked.
“Well,” the doctor started, seemingly trying to remember. “It would make you less inclined to be angry, as that was the goal. It would also make you emotionally distant to outside sources, apathetic to causes, and basically act like a sedative physically. These effects wouldn’t be all immediate at first, instead grow over the next couple months to be more obvious.”
“What the fuck,” Furia growled, her fists clenching. “You telling me that these side effects made it through to the end product?”
“Uh, well,” the doctor muttered, noticing Furia’s growing anger. “Not exactly. These effects were intended as far as they were concerned. They weren’t side effects.”
“What?! What are the side effects then?”
The doctor turned back to her computer, tapped at her keyboard for a few seconds. A nearby printer activated and printed out a single page. “Have a look,” Elizabeth said as she grabbed the page and handed it over.
Furia stared at the list, her jaw dropping. There was at least twenty items on the list, all different side effects. “Loss of memory, nausea, insomnia, loss of libido?!” She looked at the doctor, suddenly freaking out. “I won’t want to have sex anymore? What the fu-”
Furia buckled over to the floor, her stomach pain having returned. Grabbing the doctor’s garbage bin, she puked out her guts once more, her stomach still empty from earlier.
Dr. Chawas was beside her an instant later, holding her steady. The redhead heaved for a few more moments, as her body slowly realized there was nothing else to expel. The good doctor rubbed her back, making her feel a bit better as her arms began to shake.
“Some of the physical effects disappear within a week or two, others remain. It depends on the person taking it. Especially concerning someone like you. The pills effects can vary, some can take longer to show up then others. Your body might have a better time fighting the effects then someone more... average.”
“I can’t believe,” Furia rasped between ragged breaths, “that they would put me on this shit.” She spat into the bin, sitting up as she tried to breath deeply.
“No kidding. You need to stop taking it. It isn’t worth it.”
Furia wanted to agree, but knew it was more complex than that. “Can you give me something to get rid of the symptoms?”
The doctor shook her head. “Not without inducing even more, maybe even making the originals worse.”
“Well thats too bad,” Furia grunted, standing up and trying to regain her strength. “Guess I’m gonna have to bear through it all.”
“What?” Elizabeth blurted out, shocked by that statement. “You can’t be telling me you are going to keep taking these things, after everything I told you.”
The teenager shrugged, using a tissue from Dr. Chawas desk to wipe her mouth. “As I said before, I don’t have much of a choice.”
The doctor opened her mouth, still wanting to argue, but Furia shot her an angry look, startling her. “I don’t want your advice. And to be clear, I wasn’t here, alright? We didn’t have this conversation.”
Gnnngh, so good! But I have to go to bed, I have school in 6 hours and a project to finish till then!
Lurvs your stuff DM.
The doctor nodded slowly, feeling likewise about the entire exchange. Furia picked up the bottle and pocketed it, along with the list of side effects. “Thanks again doc,” she muttered and left the office, making her way back to the parking lot.
“Good luck, Lady Furia,” she heard Chawas say behind her.
Furia arrived at her car minutes later and sat in the driver seat. She reached into her pocket and removed the list of effects. Glancing over it, she growled as she crushed the paper in her hands.
She wasn’t sure what to do anymore. A few days ago, she was pretty happy with her life, and even this morning things seemed to be going her way. Yet it suddenly dawned on her that if she remained here, she would cease being who she was.
She would either not take the pills and have a good chance of many more violent incidents with her probably ending up in jail. And with her in jail, she would either get herself killed or become the very things she hated.
Or she took the pills and ceased being Furia altogether, becoming a shadow of her former self. Even if she was still there mentally, it wouldn’t be her as she knew it.
No matter what, it seemed that she was destined to be forever trapped with her destruction. She would cease to exist altogether, a body with no real mind behind it. As Furia stared blankly at herself in her rearview mirror, everything looked bleak for the young woman.
“Well this sucks,” she mumbled, starting her car. She would at least enjoy the few moments she had left being herself before it all changed, one way or another.


One small part left, I'll post it later tonight.
The rest of the afternoon, she wandered about the village, taking it in. The architecture was exactly what she expected it to be in a Fenrisian village. That is, durable, solidly built, pragmatic, and almost entirely stone. Nobody would waste wood on housing unless it was really needed, on this planet.
As night fell, Freya walked back to the food market/restaurant she had seen before. As she approached the square, however, her nose alerted her to a change.
She paused to sample the world with her senses. A very faint vibration was beginning in the ground. Hundreds of new scents were appearing. The air flooded with faint whispers.
Freya glanced around the corner into the square and spotted a faint blob of something appearing in the snowfields outside. “The campaigners return,” she muttered.
She hastened over to the eatery. Pushing the door open, she found the place almost vacant. She walked straight up to the counter she had visited before, hoping she could get her food before the place filled up. The man behind the counter blinked as he recognized her. “Bold one, you. What do you want?”
“Just whatever you can make fastest. You can see them from the square,” Freya said.
“Mmm.” The cook started preparing something, pulling a strip of meat off of the beast on the skewer over the coals. “Will you be moving on after this, lass?” he asked over his shoulder.
“I think so. It was good to visit, but I should be going home,” Freya said.
The door opened behind her. She glanced back to see Aron walking in, ushering a draft of cold air in behind him. He spotted her and made his way over. “Well, hello, Freya. Looking to grab a bite before the warband returns?” he asked.
Freya nodded politely. “I am, sir. I’ll be out of town before too much longer.”
“I think you ought to just buy a room and stay the night, lass, it gets bloody cold out there,” Aron said. He made eye contact with the cook, who started on another meal while Freya’s was cooking. Clearly, the cook knew most villagers by sight and order, the skill of bartenders and cooks everywhere.
“I’ll be all right, sir, but thank you,” Freya said.
Aron was quiet while the food simmered. When Freya’s was done, she accepted it from the cook and paid, with a coin denomination so high it raised both men’s eyebrows. She turned and sat at a table in the corner, meaning to eat and leave as fast as she could.
When Aron’s food was done, he walked over and sat with her, giving Freya a moment’s pause. “Freya, may I ask you something I didn’t ask in front of the others before?” Aron asked.
Freya narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you ask before?”
“Because, lass, I wouldn’t want to impose on you. Say no, and I’ll find another table.” Aron sat and watched her, gradually digging into his steak.
Finally, Freya tilted her head forward a fraction. “Very well.”
Aron eyed her, minding his words. “Let me begin…by saying that you surprised me before. And here, as well. Your clothes are spotless…your accent unusual. You can read, at your age, and you haven’t a scar on you, anywhere. Then, here at dinner, you pay with a gold acert, which is enough to pay for both our meals with change enough to rent a room.”
Aron paused his recitation to down a sip of his mead. “So…who are you?”
Freya looked at him for a long moment. “I spoke the truth before. I am Freya. My father is Leman, his father Hdornik.”
Aww shit. It begins...
“How unrevealing.” Aron cut off a chunk of steak and chewed for a moment. “Lass, I meant more than the superficial. Where are you really from? Why do you come to our home?”
“I wasn’t lying there, either. I’m from the Asaheim mountains. I’m here for a day, then leaving forever.” Freya swallowed a bit of her own food. “As for my money, my father is the clan leader. Beyond that, who cares?”
Aron sighed. “Freya, please. There is a reason I am the lore-keeper in a clan of over a hundred thousand souls. You are hiding something from me, and I wish to know if it’s a threat to my people.” His eyes and voice hardened. “Are you a spy from your clan, looking for an easy target?”
“No!” Freya stared at him, taken aback. “I’m no spy. I only found out your town’s name this morning!”
Aron’s face darkened. “From whom?”
“What?” Freya asked, stalling.
“Who told you the name of our town?” the man pressed.
“My uncle, Bjorn. We traveled together until this morning.” Freya improvised her answers.
The scroll-keeper slowly nodded. “Very well. Half-truths, then.” He sighed. “All right.” He cut off another chunk of meat. “What’s your clan name, anyway?” he asked around a mouthful of meat.
Freya’s mental gears locked up. She hadn’t even considered that question. “…Russ,” she finally said. The old man was clearly out-maneuvering her.
Aron’s eyes narrowed as he thought that one over. Abruptly, his skin went white as paper. He swallowed his mouthful of steak and fearfully tilted his head upwards to meet Freya’s bashful stare.
“…Freya…Russ? The Russ?”
“I’m only aware of three,” Freya admitted. “Keep it quiet.”
“You…the clan of the Wolf King?” Aron whispered. “Here? In Hosanger?” His eyes darted around, as if the Death Guides themselves – clearly the local name for the Wolf Priests – were about to step forth from the shadows.
“I came as alone as I felt I safely could, scroll-master, fear not,” Freya said, dropping her imitation of the local dialect.
Aron squeezed his hands on the edge of the rough stone table. “…Spirits protect me, are you here as a portent?” he whispered hoarsely.
“A portent? What?” Freya asked, surprised.
“…You’re…” Aron swallowed. “You’re the…the blood of the Wolf King himself…in…Hosanger…” He screwed his eyes shut and opened them, as if willing reality to reassert itself. It didn’t. The pretty red-haired lass with the sheepish smile and divine blood was still sitting across from him, munching on a steak. “…Have you come for the souls of the ones who fell in the campaign?” he asked. His pupils had narrowed to tiny dots in his rheumy old brown eyes.
Freya felt understanding dawn. He thought she was a Valkyrie or something, a half-human or some force of the Gods in their Fang that pierced the sky. “Not yet, scroll-keeper. I’ve come for my own ends.”
“For…my gods above, this is…” he looked a bit woozy. “This is a lot to take in.” He squinted at her in the flickering firelight. “You’re really…did you say three Russ?”
“King Russ, his wife, Gairwyn, and their daughter.” After a moment’s hesitation, Freya fell silent. She didn’t want to frighten the old man. If he was acting like this because he thought she was just some Valkyrie, how would he act if he put two and two together, and deduced her actual parentage?
“You’re…” Aron sank back into his seat, pale. “You’re a servant of the Wolf King?”
Freya shrugged. “I am, to a degree.” The deception didn’t sit well with her, but she would catch hell if she started a religious uprising in the middle of her vacation.
Aron stared at her a moment longer, before slowly starting back up on his meal. “Well…Freya, please don’t take offence at my reaction.”
“I won’t, Aron,” Freya promised.
“To have the actual kin of the Wolf King before me…” Aron lowered his voice. “For a moment, I thought you had come for my soul.”
“No,” Freya said with a faint smile. “And…soon, I will be far away from Fenris for a long time, studying on the world of the All Father. Midgard. I will return, in time, and take my place amongst my family. Until then…”
Aron winced. “This feels…shamefully inadequate, Freya.”
“To have such a revelation in a cookery…” Aron said glumly. “These tales are related in clan halls, at the feet of kings. It seems disrespectful to question you here.” His shame at his prior interrogation seemed to be welling back up.
“If anything, I admire the will you exercise to record the legacies of the clan in the middle of its ceaseless killing,” Freya said to assuage him.
Aron nodded, delighted. A touch of color returned to his old visage. “Thank you, Freya! You’re most kind. It’s vital work.”
“It is.” Freya finished her steak. “Your apprentices, who are they?”
“They are Adric and Colin, Freya, and they are the sons of my senior apprentice Olag,” Aron said. At least he didn’t look like he was dying of shame. “They are seventeen and eighteen years of age, by the reckoning of the moon. Colin is the elder.”
“I see. I’m seventeen also,” Freya said, though of course Fenrisian and Terran years could be wildly different for all she knew. She finished the rest of her food and sipped at her drink. The commotion outside was building. “Do the words ‘Great Crusade’ have any meaning to you?” she asked.
Aron thought for a moment, his nerves returning. “Er…no.” He recoiled. “Should they?”
“Mmm.” Freya pulled the last of her thick mead. The heady scent coiled around her nose, burning her sinuses clear. “It’s not important. Not to Fenris, anyway.”
“What is it?” Aron asked.
Freya set her thick mug down. “Inconsequential, now.” She rose to her feet and pulled her hood up. “Fare you well, Aron,” she said, starting towards the door.
“Wait, wait,” Aron said, rising as well. “I…forgive my impudence, but I must know. Why Hosanger?”
“I wanted to see a place that would serve as a good example of the way my people live their lives,” Freya said, pausing and looking back. “My…uncle, Bjorn, he recommended it.”
“Is he…of the Vlka?” Aron asked.
Freya nodded once.
Aron closed his eyes for a moment, overawed. “…Does he watch over us? As his Guides do?”
“I assume so,” Freya said.
“Good…that is good.” Aron nervously glanced back at the detritus of their meal. “Freya, if you wish to see our world, there is one place you absolutely should not miss.”
Freya looked back again. “Oh?”
“Yes. Have you heard of the Cave of Indulgences?” Aron asked.
Freya raised her eyebrows. “…Sounds like a place of debaucheries.”
“Well, it may sound that way, but it is not. In the caves to the north, the waters grow thin and hot.” Aron looked out the thick, scuffed window to where the crowds of revelers and returning warriors were approaching. “Directly north, less than an hour on foot. The huge black rocks. On the north face, there is a crack in the stones, by a pair of natural rises in the earth. Go in and see for yourself.” Aron bowed. “Thank you for visiting us, Freya.”
“Thank you for having me,” Freya said.
“Dare I ask what your impression of your kin has been thus far?” Aron gamely asked as Freya slid her gloves back on.
Freya tugged the soft doeskin against her hands. “Hmm. Not sure. Good and bad, I guess.” She glanced back at him and grinned, quite deliberately flashing her fangs. “But then, I wouldn’t want to hail from a people with no…diversity.” She nodded a farewell as he paled again, and slid into the night.
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I murder teh thred. :I

Oh well, a bit more then we knock off for two weeks.
The square was a riot. Hundreds of clansmen were milling about, waving trophies, telling tales, sweeping their women off their feet, scooping children onto their shoulders and generally making themselves at home. Freya pulled her hood low over her head and tugged the drawstrings a bit, closing her face off from the world. She slid the cloak a bit tighter across her chest, concealing herself.
Freya stepped aside as the first of the warriors entered the building, already hollering for food. Many of the others were tromping off for the Swollen Head instead, and some dispersed amongst the houses with a reunion on the mind. A few cheap and overworked-looking women on one corner simpered at the passing warriors, and some peeled off to follow…like bitches on a leash, Freya thought with disgust.
She turned away from the scene and marched around the edge of the square to the tavern, peeking in through the windows. The room was flooded with people now, from a handful of alert-looking men with stone clubs in the corners to the reveling warriors who had come home. The crowd that had gathered outside was breaking up, some dragging trophies with them. Freya slipped into the building, making her way over to the massive bar.
She patiently waited for the harried barman to reach her. “A glass of red mead,” she said quietly, sliding some of the change from her dinner across the table.
“Aye, lass, here you are,” the barman said, taking the money and sliding her a thick stone mug. The scuffs on its handle showed that, clearly, it had seen use as a weapon more than once.
it's late, most of us yanks are asleep.
She nodded and lifted the mug, making for the door. Once outside, she slid around the back of the building to find what she had hoped she would: a ladder, built into the back wall, no doubt for posting sentries in times of siege.
Balancing the mug in one hand, Freya climbed the ladder up to the roof. She arrived at the top and sipped her drink as she walked up to the edge. The alcoholic drink was so named because it was supposedly made with human blood, long ago. Now, a cup of boiled mammoth blood was mixed in with the cask. With her refined senses, she could taste it.
Freya sat on the edge of the building and let her feet dangle over the side, after wiping a spot clean of snow. She looked out over the little town of Hosanger, and let its sights, sounds, and scents fill her. She breathed deep of her people, and smelled their cooking and labor.
She listened to hundreds of rowdy warriors sing their war songs, and tell their tales of victory and loss. She heard children cry as sergeants relayed news of their brothers and fathers’ deaths. She listened as the warriors caroused and refueled themselves, got into brawls and swore their oaths, lay with their women and spoke of the next campaign, the next war, the next raid.
Freya closed her eyes and drank deep of her cooling mead. She heard a few grown men weep as they sank to their knees before their wives and children and swore that that was the last time, no more fighting, home life now! The sounds of breaking glass and roaring song filled her ears from beneath her as the entire town of Hosanger turned out to greet their conquering heroes.
Freya smiled and brought the mug to her lips. “So…this is the part of Fenris dad loves so much.”
She drank the rest of the heavy mead and licked her lips. The blood lent the drink a harsh, metallic tang. This was the drink of a fighter. “You were right, Dad.” She climbed to her feet. “That was worth my time.”
Freya turned her back on the square when a voice called up from below. “Oi! Red!”
She looked down to see a few warriors standing below. “You looking for something?” one cried.
“No, warrior, just taking the evening,” Freya said.
“Well get down if you do not wish to freeze your tits off, girl!” he said, to the chuckles of his compatriots.
Freya threw her head back and laughed. “I’m just fine.” Without another word, she vaulted off the roof of the building and landed on her feet less than fifty centimeters from the startled warrior. She rose and nonchalantly pressed the mug into his hands. “Here, take this into the bar,” she said. “I’m off to home.”
Without another word, she took off sprinting, leaving the rest of the people in the square stunned at her speed. She put all the strength she could muster through her two mugs of mead into the effort, until her hood pulled free, and her cloak billowed out from behind her neck like the tail of a comet. The three intricate Fenrisian braids she wore from her left temple dangled loose as the rest of her red hair fell from the hood and waved in her wake.
As soon as she was beyond the light of the torches in the village, she slowed her progress, reaching down into her pouch for the recall beacon for Bjorn’s Thunderhawk. As her hands brushed it, however, she paused. She glanced to the north, eyeing the low, rocky hills. “Hmm.” She tapped her lip with one gloved hand as she came to a halt. “…might as well.” Adjusting her course, she took off again, her booted feet skating over the ice and snow like the passage of a bird.
When Aron had said ‘less than an hour,’ he had presumably referred to the brisk walk of a soldier on march in the winter. Freya was superhuman, and ate up the distance in less than ten minutes. When she arrived at the low hill, she scaled it, allowing the height to slow her down. When she reached the downslope, she turned her eyes to the ground, wary of the cracks Aron had mentioned. The sun had set completely, now. The glorious stars had risen, and the huge red-and-white moon hung overhead. With her eyes, she could still see as clear as if the sun were directly overhead.
She reached the north side of the hills and looked around. She didn’t see anything that looked like an entrance. Freya held her nose close to the ice and sniffed. Sulfur…water…a small amount of methane…and lots of oddly misplaced heat. She looked at the snow around her more closely. Little ice clung to the vertical parts of the rocky hill, as if it had melted free, or never formed. Was there a hot spring nearby? Had Aron meant that when he said the waters grew ‘thin and hot?’
Voices. Freya slunk into the shadows of the hill by instinct as a pair of low, excited voices emerged. They faded again after a moment, and she walked up the hill a bit, trying to find their bearing.
There. A pair of human footprint trails was plainly visible there, coming from the town. They vanished into the wall of the rocky hill-face. Freya silently moved over the snowy rocks, lifting her cloak in her hands so the pelt didn’t drag.
“I’m telling you, we should wait! There’ll be a storm tonight!” a young woman’s voice insisted. Freya silently tread up to the crack in the rocks from above, and perched overhead like a bird.
“Don’t be silly. We can make it back,” a man replied.
“In less than an hour? Against the blizzard?” the woman asked incredulously.
“The skies were clear when we arrived,” the man insisted. Freya closed her eyes and focused. That scent…one of the boys from the House of the Kindred? Colin?
“I’ve lived off the game around here, I’m telling you that there’s going to be a storm tonight! Why do you think the warband was racing home? We should just wait.”
Colin scoffed. “Nonsense.” He emerged from the crack. His hair glistened in the moonlight. “See? No wind.”
“Not yet! Give it ten minutes!” the woman said from inside. “I’m not freezing out there!”
Colin sighed. “Fine. I’ll head back by myself. You can wait the night, if you want, Casse.”
“Colin!...fine. Be stubborn. You’re just going to freeze,” the woman huffed.
Freya licked her upper lip and tilted her head back, inhaling deeply. Sure enough, the woman was right. There was a strong blizzard on the way. Not strong enough to ground a Thunderhawk by any means, but strong. Enough to kill someone out on the plains with no arctic gear…and wet hair.
“Don’t,” Freya said.
Colin started. The woman inside gasped. Freya spoke again, pulling her hood back to let her braids hang free. “Death comes on the wind tonight, Colin,” she said, her voice the bestial growl she only let out when she was enraged beyond human limits, or was indulging in a bit of theater, like now.
Colin spun around to see her and bit back a scream. She had tilted her eyes to catch the moonlight on her canine eyes. All he could see was the green lights of her eyes, silhouetted against the stars. “Stay and live. Leave and die.”
“Who…who are you?!” Colin gasped. Casse emerged and spotted Freya, and she actually did scream, huddling up against Colin. Colin wrapped a protective arm around his girl and stared up at the wolf-woman giving him orders.
“The one who wants you to survive the night,” Freya said. Her voice was more animal than human. “Get back into the cave and wait out the blizzard that comes…or have the flesh be torn from you in the ice storm,” she whispered.
“I…I will die if I go?” Colin asked, his voice shaking with fear. Casse’s teeth were chattering, in terror or cold. Neither teen was dressed for the night, either, both were just wearing leather coats over their day wear.
“As sure as the moon rises, boy,” Freya growled. “Take refuge before I lose patience.”
“T-thank you!” Colin gasped, ushering Casse into the crack once more. “Bless you for your mercy, spirit!”
Freya nodded once, then silently slunk away as the sound of their panicked footsteps faded into the cave. As soon as they were out of earshot, she cleared her throat and grimaced at the discomfort in her voicebox. “Ow. How does Dad do that without straining himself?” she asked nobody, tapping the Thunderhawk recaller.
Righty, folks, the thread's more or less died and Ahriman's fresh out of material, so I'm pulling the plug. See you all on Thursday the Twentieth!

(why not friday? I'll reveal why when the occasion comes!)

Until then, please comment on what we've made!

Furia's on Lexapro! Thoughts on that?

Julius is having a near-death experience in real time! What do y'all think?

Freya's impersonating a Valkyrie and getting (maybe) away with it! What say you?

Upvote the thread in the archive, please, because someone's been downvoting it like crazy lately. All of the Warhammer High threads have been downvoted, sometimes by ten or more negative votes.
Thanks guys, your combined writefaggotry is appreciated and my only complaint is it's scarcity!
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Aw damn, I feel bad for Furia.
Yeah, it'll get better, I swear!

I won't be finishing up my final part, rather way till next thread.
>leather clad and cloaked Freya sprinting, red hair billowing after her
>Upvote the thread in the archive, please, because someone's been downvoting it like crazy lately. All of the Warhammer High threads have been downvoted, sometimes by ten or more negative votes.
Sounds like someone with a serious case of BADWRONGFUN has had it in for you.
I had to grin after the last couple of lines.
To finish off, how does everyone like how my story is going? Was I wrong to have Julius forsake his vows? Is Ahriman nuking the city a good idea?

General criticism and critique please.
I want this to live for the American crowds.

All pretty good. I don't know whether it's because I enjoy reading or am a bad critic but I can't find anything wrong with them. Well nothing I can think of anyway.

Thanks for the reads gents, till the twentieth.
Good good good. It's all good. All three of you. I like the war porn myself, it's 40K, but not. And the Gaunt's Ghosts series is my favorite of Dan Abnett's, so that should give you an idea of my tastes...
one last post for Ahriman before I let this thread die.

Nope not wrong for Julius to forsake his vows given the context of the story. Nope it's a good idea i would say for Ahriman to nuke the city. In that way it creates drama and a hook for readers to follow. This is in contrast to SE's writing which as of late does not possess the same hook to it which was in abundance during his Bleeding out Story. There is a desire for your story time too AA. You have a fan in the timezone waiting to read more from you ;)
last last post for Ahriman as well.

Uhm, i noticed that the Bleeding out Lost chapters page is gone in 1d4chan as well? did you remove the page or did someone remove it actually?
I'm rumping this for us yorofags.

People keep deleting it and it keeps getting restored.
No hook, huh? I suppose I can see that.

Well, it's nearly over.

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