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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Hi folks, time for yet another bi-weekly Warhammer High and Primarchs' Daughters thread.

Someone else.'s past contributions:








Ahriman's Aide's past contributions:




DarkMage's past contributions:


4chan writefag channel on Rizon: #writescribbles
Alex stepped off the ramp of the Thunderhawk as Freya returned from the cave. “It’s clear, the water purifier’s working,” she reported.
He followed her back in, fumbling in the bag for a flashlight. He flicked it on, illuminating the walls of the cave. “All right…let’s change,” he said, setting the bag down near the water’s edge. Freya ignited some torches and put them in the well-worn sconces as Alex disrobed. As he started to slip into the water, though, she glanced back.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Alex hesitated. “Uh, getting in the water.” he said.
“Well, yeah, but why are you still wearing that?” she asked, pointing at his boxers. “You expecting to get interrupted? I’m not,” she said, running a hand over the cloak she had draped over her Fenrisian outfit.
Alex felt his blood pick up a bit. “Wouldn’t want to get my underwear wet, I suppose,” he said, shucking them and clambering into the water.
Freya slid her cloak off and removed her own clothes, then sat down beside him, letting him slide an arm around her shoulders. “Mmmm…” she sighed luxuriously. “Remilia was right, people pay a fortune for this back home,” she said.
Alex closed his eyes and rested his head on hers. “Yeah…can’t find this on Terra.”
Freya gently pulled away from him and cricked her back where she had been leaning over. “Alex, I want to thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“I know this trip has been rough on you,” Freya said, her green animal eyes appearing as tiny discs in the light. “I’m glad you haven’t let it get to you.”
“In front of the others, anyway?” Alex asked tiredly.
“Yeah.” Freya undid her braids and let the hair fall into the water beside her. She sank down into the steamy pool up to her collarbone. “But even after all the shit you’ve been through, you’re still Alex.”
“I don’t want to ruin things for the rest of you,” he said.
She nodded, eyes shut. “I know.” She smiled up at him. “That’s part of the reason I love you.”
The faint sound of water dripping out of the pool into the adjacent one and the faint burning of the torches were the only sounds Alex could hear. He sank back against the rock walls and spread his arms over the rim to balance. “Thanks, baby.” He sighed. “It meant a lot that you were there when Dad…threw me away.”
“I just…I dunno.” Freya sat up a bit. “I want to understand more about why he did it. It baffles me. And to phrase it like a choice like that, of college or the fleet…I’ll be honest, it doesn’t really sound like he outright disowned you.”
“I know it doesn’t,” Alex said heavily. “But that’s the effect of it. I told him outright that I had no interest in running his little empire of graverobbers when I was old enough to understand what they really did. I said to his face I was going to play rugby and go to college and get a job that didn’t leave the stink of corpses in my nose when I went off to Imperator and got my scholarship. He was more surprised than anything. I half-think he was expecting me to be proud of him or something. Asshole.”
“The instinct to impress your children is a strong one,” Freya said quietly. “Do you think he’ll ever change his mind?”
“He can’t, the worthless old bastard,” Alex grumbled. “He did it in front of an audience, you see, including you. He can’t take it back. His pride can’t allow it. He did the exact same thing to me that he did to Mom, and now she’s moving out of the house.”
Freya reached out and caressed his hand on the lip of the pool. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could make it better.”
“You did, those were the best two hours of my life,” Alex joked weakly. Freya managed a small smile, but the deeply empathetic girl could see the raw wound in his heart. “But the fact that you changed your college plans to stay with me…god…” He closed his eyes.
She sat back down next to him and held his hand on her near shoulder, looking up at him. “Well…you know, I have forever to go back to school. Spending time with you is more important.”
Alex nodded. “Thanks.”
They sat in silence for quite some time, letting the water’s heat soak into them and melt their problems away.
Jake slid his magazine out and replaced it, sweeping his brass into a bag. “Hmm. At least I’m hitting the target now,” he said. Venus slid her arms around him and adjusted his grip again, eyeing his hands.
“Try feathering the trigger instead of jerking it like that,” she suggested. “You can feel the break on the trigger, so you don’t need to manhandle it.”
“All right.” The light turned blue and Jake fired again, sending a slug through the human outline in the torso. “Progress!” he said cheerfully.
Remilia’s target showed a single broad hole in the forehead, through which she had somehow put around four magazines of eighteen slugs each. “I forgot how satisfying this can be,” she said. She emptied her magazine into the target again, and the hole didn’t get any wider. “I used to hit the ranges with Dad back in the day. I was always terrible at it.”
“Where did you even go?” Jake asked, setting his gun down. His hands were protesting. “There were no ranges in Startseite.”
“No, but there was one in the PDF garrison in the very very top of the hive spire four klicks south of the city,” Remilia said. “Dad wanted me to learn how to shoot.”
“You’re better than me,” Venus said, glancing over her own target. She had only fired two magazines, spending the rest of the time coaching Jake. Her target had a smattering of holes in the head and heart region, nowhere near as neat as Remilia’s. “I’m way out of practice.”
Jake glanced over into her lane. “Firing that Conflagrator is probably the extent of it, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” Venus walked back to her land and cleared the chamber, sliding a fresh magazine home. She raised her gun and fired, sending a few more rounds to pierce the target’s heart.
Freya rose from the water to dig a small water-sealed package out of her bag. Alex admired her shapely backside as she rooted around. “Ah hah, I see it,” she said. She sat back down in the water and passed him the little plastic container. “Eat up,” she said.
Alex extracted a small muffin. “Cool, thanks,” he said, chowing down. Freya took her own and put the package away. “Never eaten in the bath before,” Alex chuckled.
Freya licked her fingers and splashed crumbs away. “All right. Thanks for being open with me, baby, I know it hurt to talk about.”
He nodded. “Well…I don’t blame you. But…I want to ask you something too.”
“What’s up?” Freya asked.
“Well…we talked about pack instinct and all that before,” Alex reminded her. “But I don’t really understand all of it. I mean, in regard to your family. I can count the number of times I’ve met your mother on one hand.”
“So just tell you more about them?” Freya asked.
“Well, sort of,” Alex said. “I just want to know them better. I mean…your Dad’s a PRIMARCH. Can you tell me more about him, his role in the Imperium? I just feel like I don’t know them at all.” He shrugged. “I’d like to.”
Freya nodded. “Well, my grandparents on my mother’s side work for the Houses of the Navigators,” she said. “You knew that though. Uh…well, Dad still leads the Legion since he found out he sucked at politics. He’s on Luna a lot, liaising with the senior guys in the Navy and Expeditionary forces.”
“That’s cool. Have you ever been to Luna?” Alex asked.
“Sure have. It’s kinda boring. The atmo shields are lowered unless they’re running a drill, so you’re stuck in the bunkers.” She shrugged. “I should take you some time.”
“I’d like that,” Alex said. He scooted over to sit next to his girlfriend. “Your Mom always seemed to like me more than your Dad did.”
Freya shrugged, sending her ample breasts swaying in the torchlight. “Mom likes you a lot, but Dad just doesn’t like that I’m old enough to be dating. He always thinks of me as his little girl.”
“I bet most of the Primarchs do that,” Alex said. “When you’re that old, you know?”
Freya laughed. “Probably.” She leaned back and thought. “Dad wanted to keep at the Crusade, I know. He thinks there’s too much of the area inside the Astronomican’s projection range unexplored. I kinda agree, but after we were born…he learned to love being a Dad. He spent a lot more time with me when I was a kid, too; I know I’ve said he brought me home to Fenris several times. Only Miranda’s been off of Earth more than I have.”
She slid her hands through her hair and idly worked one lock into a braid. “Hmm…what else do you want to know?”
“What does your…pack instinct or whatever you call it…feel around your cousins?” Alex asked.
Freya slowly twisted her hair as she thought that over. “Hmmm…it’s…complex. Miranda and Remilia feel like…little sisters more than anything else. Venus’ sense is more like a pack-mate, someone I can trust. She’s a mediator, you know? Like Angela is.”
She continued. “Isis is like a an older sister, she’s the one who looks after the rest of us. I mean, that’s a human thing too, but it’s a common instinct that way,” she said. “Sorry, this probably sounds weird.”
“No, I think I get it. What do you feel towards Kelly? I remember you were pretty torn up when she went to the hospital,” Alex said.
“She’s hurting, baby,” Freya sighed. “She’s really scared of the future. She was getting better by graduation. And, hmm…Furia too. I know she was thinking of heading off to college after graduation, I never thought she would be. She’s getting better too.”
“Yeah.” Alex nodded. “You have a great family, Freya.”
“You’re part of it, whether it’s for the next four years or however long we’re together,” Freya said with a smile.
Alex felt a little thrill of excitement as she said it. “Really? That’s…really flattering,” he said.
Freya leaned against his shoulder and smiled as his body reacted to that. “It’s the best,” she said softly. “I feel like I belong when I’m with my family. Like I can let my guard down. It’s…smaller of a sense than when I’m with the Rout, but it’s there. I feel like they all have roles to play, and me too.”
“So where do I fit in?” Alex asked, feeling his heart pick up a bit more.
Freya snorted at the question. “Didn’t I make it clear when I pulled you out of Amber Gainner’s thieving claws?” she asked drily. She leaned even farther sideways, until he wrapped his arms around her stomach. She looked up at him and grinned, fierce and happy. The flickering torchlight reflected as a rippling gold in her eyes. Her bared fangs and wet red hair glinted in the light. “You’re my mate.”
Alex smiled.
She held his gaze, and her free hand slid up to grip his chin. She pulled him into an impassioned kiss, which he returned with equal parts hunger and relief. She very deliberately placed one leg over his and pushed the cleft of her butt back against him as she broke the kiss. “I think…” she whispered sensuously. “That for…a few minutes…I can stop being nervous about my Brothers’…senses of smell,” she said, running both hands behind her back, down to stroke him where he was already hard as the rock they were sitting on.
“Up against the wall of the cavern,” he ordered roughly, half-lifting her out of the water and turning her around. She splayed her hands over the steam-smoothed stone.
“To start with,” she growled back.
She moaned in anticipation as he parted her and started thrusting. The tension and lingering anger in Alex vanished as he held her to the wall and mated with her, shattering the doubt that had been holding him by the throat since Nocturne. Freya gasped her approval as the desire and lust he had been keeping in check since they came in range of the Fang broke free.
Some while later, dried and dressed, both teens were sitting cross-legged on the top of the hollowed rocks and snow. Alex was back in the full thermo suit, now, complete with sealed mask and gloves. He was holding magnoculors to his eyes, watching the storm front approach. It was as broad as the horizon, and as high as the tropopause. Flurries of hailstones the size of fruit were hurtling about within. The higher reaches of the cloud were ablaze with forking lightning that left afterimages in his eyes and made him blink behind his mask’s lenses.
Alex slid the magnoculars back into his equipment pouches and stared at the approaching stormhead. The Thunderhawk was en route to them, they would be well and gone before the storm arrived.
“It’s amazing,” Alex said quietly.
Freya nodded in silence.
The black clouds swirled closer, with the faintest of susurrus of thunder rolling in. Freya sat up. “There’s a snow-cat coming, from across the frozen lake,” she said, her voice barely above the wind. “It’s seen us, but keeping its distance.
Alex looked back. Sure enough, there was the tiniest mound of white on the frozen water where there hadn’t been before. He switched his mask’s optics to polarize the light and the blod refined itself a bit. “Are we safe?” he asked.
“Not if we were human,” Freya said softly. Alex glanced back at her. Her irises and retina bled together in an inhuman green through his optics. “Luckily…I’m not,” she said. She wasn’t smiling.
“And you’re all right with that?” Alex asked, just to make sure.
Now she did smile. “I am. And that’s good news for you,” she said, her voice turning a bit husky.
Alex tilted his head in silent question. Freya reached over and gently pushed against his sternum until he fell back a bit. She leaned over him on all fours and nuzzled his mask. “Wolves protect their mates,” she whispered. She rose from her crouch, and Alex heard the faint rasp of metal on leather as she drew her pistol and chambered a slug.
The cat didn’t move, just staring at the two of them, until the gunship settled down beside them and it bolted away. Freya and Alex clambered in, and the gunship lifted, flying back to the Fang.
Alex settled down on a bench at the end of the row and peeled his mask off. Freya curled up on the bench next to him and rested her head in his lap, letting her long hair spill out over the thermo outfit Alex was wearing. She pulled her cloak off and draped it over herself like a blanket as she lay there, shutting her eyes to catch a quick nap.
The two Wolves on the opposite bench looked at each other askance, but said nothing. Alex pulled his hood back and ruffled his hair to get the tangles out, then slowly ran his fingers through her thick red mane.
“What does our Sister mean to you, Lord Carlin?” the Blood Claw across from them asked.
Alex didn’t answer right away. He just stroked her hair, thinking. When he spoke, it was slow and deliberate. “I love her. We make each other happy.”
“Pardon my bluntness, Lord, but that’s a fun time, not meaning,” the Claw said. Alex glared at him. The Astartes continued, unabashed. “What do you want from her?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing asking me that?” Alex snarled, trying not to wake her.
“I want to know who my sister is sleeping with, literally and metaphorically,” the Claw said, even as the other Claw looked at him in surprise and unease.
“Well, if love isn’t enough, then I guess I’m not good enough, am I?” Alex asked bitterly. “Now you shut the hell up.”
The Claw tightened one fist for a moment. “I have every right to worry about my sister, human,” the Claw said darkly.
“And she called me her mate,” Alex said in the same tone. “If that’s not enough for you, open a vein.” The gunship’s hold went silent, save the sound of engines, as the two Claws stared at him, before the talkative one finally relented.
“I…apologize if I have overstepped, your Lordship,” he said, before turning his gaze down to his weapons and falling quiet.
Alex scoffed. “Yes, you did,” he said darkly, and went back to watching Freya sleep in his lap.
It's all me. I'm finally over my previous 'problems', if only Furia could be cured as easily as I was. But that would ruin DarkMage's story. I have a fuckton waiting for you, so buckle up and hang on.

Last time, Julius betrayed his oaths and saw a Daemon, and Ahriman was about to bring some Atomic Hate down on the Ork Invaders.

Let's get this moveable feast underway!
You up early today Ahriman or was it a all nighter?
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Sweet! Primarch's Daughters/Warhammer High is one of my two favorite /tg/ series at the moment.

second one is BooneQuest

pic very much related.
The tombs of the ancient kings of Gyptus had a saying carved upon their doors: ‘Death comes on swift wings to those who disturb the king’s rest’, and as Ahriman peered over the newly deployed Deathstrikes, he decided that saying had never been as apt as it was now. The greenskin filth had disturbed his rest, and now he was about to bring down fire and destruction upon them on a colossal scale.

The two launchers were positioned in the centre of Huron’s square in the heart of the inner city. The Caorst Panxer troopers were positioned around them in case of Ork air attack or infiltrating Kommandoes. They had only one shot at this, and Ahriman would be literally damned if he was going to let this one slide.

Seeing them in person for the first time, he was amazed how the small driving sections were able to carry the payload. The Chimera chassis seemed almost crushed beneath the massive rockets they carried. Beside them, fuel bowsers struggled to tank the rockets up ready for lift-off. Ahriman had already had a go at the head technician, and his claim the rockets wouldn’t be ready for launch for at least twenty-four hours. He’d scared the man half to death with his demands the rockets be ready in no more than eighteen hours.
You all should be ashamed.
Now that he had agreed to their deployment, a savage joy had made its home inside him. All his previous doubts were forgotten, washed away by the certainty that now he would be the one in control of his fate, and the fate of this world. Once he had disliked the Word Bearers for the absolute certainty that filled them, but now having suffered the curse of doubt for so many weeks he wished he had that gift, and was glad of this one certainty, certainty that tomorrow the greenskins would suffer under the power of two mushroom shaped clouds of death.

He still had that nagging feeling that the survivors outside the inner walls were important, but his gut feeling had been wrong before, he wasn’t going to listen to it again. The Graf was right on this count. He may have disliked the woman as a glory-hound who wanted her reputation to come out of this greater than when she went in, but her words rang true. Thousands had already died under the onslaught, and thousands more would die if he did not act now. Whoever those survivors were, he had to weigh them up against the survival of the planet, and that was no contest at all. They would have to die so that the planet would live.

“My Lord, the troops have commenced redeployment as per your commands. We’ve pulled much of the troops back from the walls, so they appear undermanned.” That was a Sous-lieutenant of the Caorst Panxers; he had been spending most of his time with that particular regiment recently. When the Ork horde was smashed and reeling, they would launch a localised offensive to clear the Orks away from the outer walls, show them that their foes were no push-over. He would lead them in person, so he was trying to acclimatise himself to them now.
“Very good Sous-lieutenant. If the Orks think the walls are thinly manned, them they will mass all their forces for the final assault. That is when we launch, and send the Orks to eternity, and worse.” He’d carefully planned that one out as they calibrated the warheads. If the Orks took the bait, it would increase the casualty rates among them by at least sixty percent or more. That would be another six million dead Orks.

“And well deserved too. Give the Greenskin skum a taste of what the Imperium can do, yes?” the man’s aura flashed red as he spoke, red with vindictive glee. Every Imperial soldier he had spoken to had done the same. Deploying the Deathstrikes had caused a market rise in morale. Now the Imperium could at last hit back, hit back hard. He heard something coming from behind him, and he turned to notice a figure cutting through the assembled troops towards him.
“Here she comes, miss holier-than-thou.” The Sous-lieutenant shrugged, the exaggerated Gallic shrug the Caorst were famous for, descended from their Frac forebears on Terra.

The Graf again, and now there was a massive smile on her face. She would try to take all the credit of course, in her mind her appointment as next planetary governor was all but assured. She was so simple to read, but Ahriman didn’t care anymore. She could rule all of Ultima Segmentum for all he cared, he just wanted to win this war, and head for Angelus. Somewhere so far the Astronomican was almost impossible to see, the utter limit of the Imperium, where he would be utterly alone with himself. He wondered if there would be any trace of the great triumph held there, anything left of the last hurrah of the Great Crusade, the last time he had felt at peace with himself.
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“Lord Ahriman, I see you are admiring our secret weapon. When will we be launching?” her words brought him back to the present. He turned to face her, extending his aura to remind her who was in charge.

“The firing technicians have promised me both weapons will be ready to fire in eighteen hours or approximately six hundred hours tomorrow morning. The perfect wake up call, wouldn’t you say?”

“Of course my Lord, two hundred kilotonnes of fiery death is the best wake-up call we could ever give the greenskin scum.”

No matter how much he disliked her, he could never disagree with that.

“Tomorrow, we bring death on wings of fire to the foe. After thirty days of despoiling this planet, we will get a chance to hit back. It might win us the war without any foreign intervention at all, but I doubt that. However it will ensure the Orks won’t be able to assault us again for many weeks, if not months. The Liberation fleet should arrive well within that time.”

“You see my Lord, my judgements can be sound.”

He wished he could agree with that, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake the feeling that something ghastly would happen, when those warheads landed among the foe. He could not and would not stop it now; he would just have to face the consequences when they came.
Fuck you too buddy.

Julius rose slowly from slumber, like some great sea beast slowly coming up for air. Despite all his fears the previous night, his sleep was long, deep, and untroubled. No Daemons had tried to steal his soul. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, and notice who he was pressed tightly up against. She was still sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling rhythmically beneath his arms. As he watched, he abruptly felt a certain part of him was touching her. Gently he inched his hips away from her, hoping the motion wouldn’t wake her.

The door banged open to reveal Dyllion, startling Summer awake. He peered over the two of them. “Bloody hell, I wish you two would be more discreet. Scvott has called a meeting in the command room. We’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed.”

Summer turned to Julius, who had turned bright red. “Let them think what they want. You know and I know that it was completely innocent. Nothing happened. This time.”

Julius looked down at himself and almost smiled, but held it back. They dressed in silence and went to join the others.
Scvott was waiting for them, a pile of sheets of paper and a few pens at his side.

“Everyone, late tonight we go to capture that mole and try and get warning of the ‘Daemon’ or whatever the hell it is to the inner city. If we can’t capture it, we destroy it. Dyllion and Flynn have already packed the remaining explosives, so we can blow that thing to hell and gone. Now I have asked all of you here for one important reason.”

“This is a one-way mission. We’re not coming back. We either succeed in getting this warning out, or we die.” His bald statement hit them all hard. Flynn’s cheeky attitude disappeared, Dyllion murmured a curse under his lips, and Summer whispered a prayer to the Emperor only Julius could hear. He himself searched for an emotion, but found only emptiness. Scvott waited for them all to settle down, before continuing.

“If we do die, I want us to leave something behind, so that in the future the people who find this place will know what happened to us and will know that we gave our lives to combat the Ork menace and our sacrifice. That’s why I brought these along.” Gesturing to the pens and paper. “I want each of you to write a last letter, something that if this place is ever found will tell our loved ones what we did.” He didn’t mention that by the time any letters would be found, thousands of years may have passed and their loved ones would be long dead. He didn’t need to mention it. There was now a weight on top of all of them, the knowledge that this may be their last mission, and that in less than a day they could all be dead.
Silently he handed out the pens and sheets of paper, and silently they took them.
“Where did you come up with this idea?” Julius asked Scvott as the others filed out.

“My Great-Granddad was Terran, a Tanker in the Zanzibari Hort. Before every mission, he had his men write a last letter in case they didn’t make it. For some reason it made facing death a lot easier, at least that was what my granddad told me. The old sod could have been lying, of course, but I have to try it. This must suck, the prospect of dying such a long way from home on an alien planet.”

“I was trying not to think about it, but thanks anyway.” Scvott smiled almost painfully as he left.

Nearly an hour later, Julius was sitting in his room, papers resting on a writing slate on his lap. He had tried several times to compose a letter to his father, but he couldn’t think of what he would say. What could he say, he was dead and he wished him his love? It all seemed too banal.

There was a light rapping on his door, and he didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Summer came in and sat down beside him. He didn’t try to hide the empty sheets of paper, had he actually written anything he would have hidden them to conceal his true identity.

“You haven’t got anything done?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to write, the usual stuff is too banal, doesn’t cover what I’ve gone through here. I’ve seen my first death, made my first kill, seen a Daemon in the flesh, and given up my most sacred gift to someone who though isn’t my official girlfriend, has come to mean a lot to me. How can I explain any of that to anyone, least of all in writing?”
She smiled at his statement. “I mean a lot to you now?”

“Summer, why are you asking that? You’re the one who has got me through this whole thing, and I can’t imagine how I would have survived without you to guide me and keep me sane.”

She took his hand, and he squeezed it. She then abruptly asked a question.

“What about your girlfriend? The one back on Calth? Why don’t you try writing to her?”

Julius hadn’t thought of that, and he turned it over in his mind, finally giving her an answer.

“Honestly, though I still may have strong feelings for her, I don’t know if she shares those anymore. I thought she did, right up until my recent mistake.”

“Oh? Why?”

Julius couldn’t reveal much, but he could give the gist of the problem. “I pulled a stunt, the one where I messed up badly, and I ended up under house arrest because of it. She could have spoken for me, could have pleaded my case, but she did not. In the end my father had to make that plea, and convince someone else to intervene on my behalf.” He sounded bitter again, bitter at her this time. The last time he had seen Isis was when they had parted after the Emperor’s reprimand. She hadn’t looked at him as they’d slunk off, and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. Not once during his house arrest, his short lived trial or on his trip from Terra to Seadelant had she even tried to make the effort to contact him, and he resented that. He knew a tiny part of him had rejoiced after he’d slept with Summer because of that, still rejoiced because of that. He wasn’t proud of that at all, but he knew why he felt that way.
“For all I know, it’s over between us. I won’t know for certain until I get home, if I even get home at all. That’s the flip side. I feel I’ve betrayed her, but I don’t even know if we’re still together or not, if I should feel like I’ve betrayed her. Everything ended so quickly, we all split apart and headed our separate ways in such a short space of time. I don’t want to die not knowing if or how it ended.”

She gave him a wistful look. “Oll, you always seem to seek advice from me, so here’s what I’d do. I’d just write that letter to her. Write it from the heart; leave out no details, spare no expense. Regardless of whether you’re still a couple or not, you owe it to her, to the time you spent together to tell her about me, the Daemon, this place in general. If you survive you can tell her all this to her face, but she should know regardless.”

“What about you? Are you going to write a letter?”

“Yes, but I hold out no hope for it ever being read. My parents disowned me, remember? I’m already dead to them, what difference will a letter make? They won’t tell my brother, they’ll just burn It.” she got up and headed for the door. As she left, she turned to Julius.

“Good luck with that letter Oll, I hope no-one ever has to read it.”

When she was gone, he took up the pen and paper, stared at it for a few seconds as he marshalled his thoughts and started writing in a neat hand: ‘Isis, if you’re reading this then I’m dead, killed in action on Seadelant. Regardless of how we parted, there are a few things I need you to know…’

“This is it everyone, saddle up!”

With Scvott’s command, they all readied for their final mission, checking weapons and shouldering packs of explosives and other materials. It was now nearly midnight, the crumbled ruins of the outer city were shrouded in darkness, the perfect cover for the band of civilians turned guerrilla fighters out to send a warning. Julius rubbed his eyes as he followed Flynn out of the bunker. He had tried to catch some sleep earlier, but it wouldn’t come. He just lay awake, thinking of everything that had happened to him in the twenty-nine days since the Hulk had come down. His life would never be the same again, of that he could be sure. He would return to Terra a vastly different person from the one who had fled the throneworld over two months ago. Would anyone see the change?

For this mission, they had broken out the recovered sets of PDF issue flak armour they had salvaged on an earlier mission. The armour was bulky, not suited to ambushes where speed and manoeuvrability was the key, but for what was effectively a head on assault at the Mole, it would provide greater protection that their unarmoured CDA issue bodygloves. Julius and Summer had helped each other strap on their Flak Armour, though Julius had found it harder to get it on her than vice versa. All of the armour vests were made for men, and squeezing her into it proved difficult, to say the least. Fortunately he’d kept his cool this time; he had no desire to repeat what had happened that morning.
As they filed out for what would most likely be the last time, Julius took one last look back at the place which for better and for worse, had been home for the last twenty-four days. What had happened here would stay with him for all of his days. He only hoped he would live long enough for those days to last longer than the next few hours, and that the letters stashed under his pillow would never have to be discovered.

In the month since he had arrived on Seadelant, the planet’s primary moon had gone through a full cycle, from new to full and now back to new. The lack of moonlight was a setback, but it was also an advantage. Orks couldn’t see any better than humans in the dark, and the cover it provided would let them get as close as possible before they strike. They emerged into the inky blackness, and following Flynn, set off into the city.

Normally they would try to keep away from the parts of the city the Orks had taken as their own, but this time they would have to go into the heart of darkness.

The moment they transitioned from the ruined parts of the outer city to the Ork occupied parts was like stepping into another world, a darker and more brutal world. The buildings were covered in orky glyphs and graffiti, and barely a block in they found several dead Orks, killed by their own kind in some fight. Orks were just as likely to kill each other as they were to kill Humans or Eldar.
Now they were truly in the danger zone, and had to keep their eyes ever open for movement, and listen for the slightest sound. One false move and every Ork in the outer city would be gunning for them, all five million or so. Julius carefully reached down and unbuttoned his holster, so he could quickly draw his pistol in the event that something goes wrong. For several blocks there was nothing, and Julius began to breathe a little easier.

Flynn abruptly halted. “Ork patrol.” he whispered harshly, and they swiftly took cover, pressing themselves up against the crumbled masonry of the nearby buildings.

Julius saw the faint outlines of the three Orks as they made their way up the street, grunting to one another in their almost incomprehensible tongue. As they passed where he was hiding he hoped the Orks couldn’t hear the sound of his heart, hammering away in his chest. Finally the Orks disappeared into the gloom, and they set off again.

Soon the number of Ork patrols increased, and time and time again they were forced to seek shelter and hide from the enemy. Soon they could make no more than a crawl, until Flynn had enough and took them into a side street.

“We’ll need to go through the buildings here; the streets are no longer safe. Some of them will be occupied by the Orks, so we will have to take it slowly, check every building and every room before we move through it. It may take more time, but better that then getting caught in the open.”
Scvott nodded in agreement, and they all followed him into one of the ruined buildings. As Julius went in, Summer flashed him a tired but encouraging smile, which he tried to return but it came out a grimace. At least they weren’t dead yet.

For several blocks they picked their way through the wrecked and looted buildings which once were peoples Habs and workplaces. Most of them would have to be torn down and rebuilt once the war was done, if the Imperial forces won. Julius didn’t want to think about what would happen if the reverse came true.

The first time they stumbled over an Ork occupied building, Julius’s heart leapt into his mouth as he saw the hulking form of an Ork sitting outside. The Ork sentry was dozing, but if it woke up it would clearly see them and raise the alarm. They crept away and managed to find another route, but the whole time Julius hardly dared to breathe. He didn’t want to be the one who made the fatal misstep and doomed them all.

After what seemed many hours, but was most likely only one or two they reached the edge of the park, and carefully ducked into an abandoned Hab. Fortunately it was missing its roof, and thus no Orks were using it as shelter.
The Hab overlooked the park where the mole was concealed, and despite the lack of moonlight the few dying campfires gave them a good view. Before the war it had been a place where parents had brought their children to play and frolic, but now the green was interspaced with a few scattered craters, and crude Ork tents were everywhere.

The Mole could be faintly seen, a shape half hidden behind several piles of scrap which used to be swings and other playground equipment, along with ground cars and assorted detritus. By his best guess, it was nearly two hundred yards away. Two hundred yards he would have to run, two hundred yards he would have to fight through. Two hundred yards which could well be his last.

“What do we do?” he whispered to Summer, who as usual was beside him. The two were almost inseparable now, and Julius couldn’t imagine doing this without her.

“And now, we wait.”

Several hours later, Summer tapped Julius on the shoulder, startling him into awareness. “This is it.” her words spurred him into action. He checked the charge on his Hellpistol, and set it to maximum. At that power, it could stab straight through Marine Battleplate. The simple Ork body armour would be no match at all.

They had waited long enough. They couldn’t sneak all the way through the Ork camp, they would have to do the impossible, and fight their way to the Mole. Fortunately most of the Orks were fast asleep, but that wouldn’t last, and they would be drawn like moths to a flame the moment they started shooting.

Flynn would start it off, using his preternatural stealth abilities to get as close as possible to the Mole, setting some bombs as he went. Once he had got as far as he could, he would detonate the bombs, and that would be the signal. Then they would all make for the Mole, weapons blazing. They would get to it, and either scramble aboard and start it off, or else set the explosives and blow it sky high. Julius rather hoped for the first option, as the other option held no means of escape and would end with his death. He wasn’t concerned about death, as a Catheric he knew that he would receive his reward for his years of service, but he had rather hoped to defer that date for a while.
Then the first bomb went off, the harsh bang ringing in his ears and startling him into awareness. Seconds later the next bomb went off, and the next, and the next. Flynn was doing a hell of a job. Nearby Scvott launched himself out, hollering and firing his Lasgun from the hip. Seconds later Dyllion joined him with his uquibitious Heavy Stubber, pausing to fire long bursts into the Ork camp. By now the Orks were stirring, hundreds grabbing weapons and seeking out the intruders.

Beside him, Summer flung herself out of the Hab and started towards the Mole. The firelight lit up her hair with a red glow, and Julius watched as she vanished into the fray.

He wanted to follow, but at the last second he found himself frozen. Was this it; was this how he wanted to meet his end? Surrounded by Orks, far from home on a planet where Daemons lurked? Were these his final moments alive?

Inside his head he heard a voice, speaking in his father’s voice, urging him forward. Up, up, up and at them! Heeding that voice, he threw himself at the foe, weapons at the ready.
Awww yis. I loves me these threads.
Ahriman says he needs to duck out for a bit, and I have dinner, so we'll resume in a few hours.

Emperasque Rogue Trader guy, where you at?
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Fuck yes! Primarchs Daughters!
Fuck no! It's late!

I'm going to read and comment on this in the morning, I lurvs you!
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bumping and grinding with Farah and Venus
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Young Freya bump
Over the next several days, Alex sensed a definite change in the behavior of the Wolves towards him and the other guests. Him especially. Less and less were they treated as guests only reluctantly. At a few of their smaller dinners in the conference room that they had used with Lord Redwind, other Wolves had attended, either just to check in with Freya or to speak with the offworlders, and they even spoke in Gothic most of the time. Whether he had passed some secret test in the Thunderhawk or something else was in play, he didn’t know, but the change was a welcome one.
They continued their exploration of the Fang, with Freya acting as a guide. She and the others made a habit of visiting the range, as well, and with Venus’ coaching, both boys picked it up well. Alex especially gained an appreciation for it; he spent a few consecutive days at the massive range, branching from solid shot to lasweapons under Freya’s watchful eye.
After nearly a week of stalling, Alex finally sent the message he had recorded for his mother. It felt like as much a self-fulfilling curse as anything, but at least, he reflected, he had something to come back to now.
Bjorn, however, had become rather secretive in the time after they arrived. It was his right as the presiding Wolf Lord to whatever he pleased, of course, but he started limited his time even with Freya after a few days of normal interaction. He seemed obsessed with preparing for something, and Freya speculated with a heavy heart that yet another Great Company might be about to receive mobilization orders.
As it happened, however, that was not the case. One afternoon, less than a week before they departed Fenris, the quintet was sitting in one of the lounges for the skjalds. The small but well-loved room had become the preferred hangout of the group. With a small bar against one wall and a constant stream of coming and going personnel, they never ran out of people to talk to.
At that moment, however, the group was watching a poker match between Jake, Freya, and one of the skjalds. Alex was reading over his slate on one couch, glad that his mother’s response hadn’t come. Remilia and Venus were watching the game, their eyes darting back and forth like they were watching tennis. Freya was sitting with her back to the door. The skjald and Jake were sitting across from her in a triangle, and the piles of chips in front of them favored the skjald by a degree that unnerved both teens. The dour-looking warrior hadn’t said a word during the whole game, so deep was his concentration.
“See your sixty, raise you twenty,” Freya said, chipping in.
The skjald hesitated, then slid in his own twenty as Jake dropped out. Both put down their cards and Freya breathed a sigh of relief: her straight edged his three of a kind.
The skjald grunted and swigged his brew. Jake cleaned up the cards and shuffled. “You sure you guys don’t want to play?” he asked the girls.
“Count me out, the kind of statistics you people can do in your heads blow my fucking mind,” Venus confessed.
“‘You people,’” Jake said drily. “Mm hmm. Venus, if you can teach me to shoot, I can teach you to play poker.”
in Bleeding Out, Venus mentions an assassination attempt against the emperor. will we ever hear that story?
Possibly. I have a lot of other projects going on.
awesome! the parts that he appears in are some of my favorite scenes in the Warhammer High story.
ps: when will you continue tales of the emprasque?
Eventually. It's my next major project after ROAD TRIP!. Well, the second story is. The other two will be a bit different, if they even happen.
Is this weeaboo stuff really necessary?
Freya yawned and sipped at her water. “What’s your vocation, sir?” she asked the skjald, in Gothic.
“Saerbis,” the skjald replied in Juvjk.
“So our guests can understand?” Freya asked.
“I don’t speak Gothic,” the man said in his own tongue. “Poker is a universal language anyway,” he added, taking his cards.
“Mmm.” Freya translated. “Saerbis means rifle trainer, basically. So he teaches the Fang guards in longrifle shooting.”
“Ah.” Jake picked up his own cards and chipped in a healthy bet. “I’m in for forty,” he said.
The change was instantaneous. The ambient noise in the room died down so fast, it was as if the atmosphere was gone. Venus and Remilia both glanced over at the door, their faces identical masks of shock and dawning delight. The skjalds in the room all stopped what they were doing and rose to their feet, saluting or kneeling in silence. On the couch, Alex swallowed sudden nerves and struggled up, only to bow.
Freya, Jake noted through his surprise and nerves, was sitting stock-still, save a slow clenching of her shoulders and widening of her eyes. She was shocked, her hands white on the table. Very slowly, she turned, just to confirm what her nose and ears were already telling her, with sensations she would have known in a coma.
A large, scarred hand on her shoulder arrested her progress. She glanced up at the man it was attached to.
“Hello, Freya,” Leman Russ said, smiling broadly. “How’s your trip been?”
“DAD!” Freya squealed, launching herself out of her chair and into her father’s arms. “When did you get here?” she demanded, burying her face in his cheek and hugging him tight.
He sank into a crouch so she wouldn’t have to lean. “Fifty minutes ago,” he said. “I’ll be here the next month.”
“Awesome!” she said happily, turning to the others with an ecstatic grin. “Guys, Dad’s here!” she proclaimed.
“So he is,” Venus said, rising to her feet and giving him a hug too. “Good to see you, Uncle Leman.” Remilia followed suit.
“Yourselves also, you two,” Leman said. His eyes lit upon Alex and Jake. “Gents.”
“Your Highness,” Jake said, bowing low. Alex rose from his own bow with a somewhat nervous feeling in his stomach, but he mustered a smile.
“So what brings you home?” Freya asked.
“Well, I could bullshit you and say I just wanted to hang out with my daughter and her friends,” the Primarch sighed. “I mean…it would be true, but it would be bullshit. The fact of the matter is, the Emperor’s enemies don’t give a toss about my vacation schedule, and every so often I have to go put them in their places.”
“Spread over some distance and unmoving?” Venus asked drily.
“Quite.” Leman ruffled his daughter’s hair. “I’m here to drop off about six hundred Tartaros Sevens and perform some other…more personal duties,” he said. “And consecrate the new ships.”
“What ships?” Freya asked, glancing up at her father with a curious glance.
Leman shrugged. “Saturnine shipyards are catching up on that backlogged order from when they went offline for upgrades a few years ago. Several new Quicksilver class patrol frigates came off the lines at the same time, so they distributed them more or less evenly to the Legions.”
Freya nodded. “Well…I’m glad we got to see you, Dad, I was afraid you wouldn’t be home when we went back to Terra!” She was bouncing from foot to foot in her excitement. Venus had to smile.
Leman straightened back up. “I’ll swing by your rooms before dinner, I wanted to talk to you all about your trip before I dive headfirst into the small ocean of paper in my office,” he said with another sigh. He glanced down at the skjalds who had been standing by since he arrived. “As you were,” he said, walking out.
Alex sank back onto the couch, sighing. Freya was practically vibrating with excitement. For a moment, Alex allowed himself to wonder what it felt like to look forward to seeing your father that much.
“That was…unexpected,” Venus said, sitting back down.
“I know, right?” Freya said happily. “I was so nervous that he’d be coming here when we were going home, and we’d just miss each other!”
“If you wanna go, go,” Remilia said, looking meaningfully at the door.
Freya bit her lip, fidgeting. Venus leaned over and picked up her cards, setting them down next to the deck. “Go,” she said.
Freya nodded. “All right,” she said, rising to her feet and following her father.

Glad to hear you're doing okay now AA :) Keep up the good work both of you! Can't wait to see what Shenanigans will result from Leman being in the Fang
Out in the hall, she spotted her father, parting the throngs of warriors and servants effortlessly, taking the occasional moment to greet old friends and familiar faces with a solemn nod or joking greeting as necessary. She tailed him at a distance until he paused at a lift. She hurried up to him and waited expectantly.
He glanced down, feigning surprise. “Freya?”
“Dad, do you have a minute to just talk?” she asked.
“About what?”
“Just…stuff. So much has happened since I saw you last,” Freya said.
Leman smiled, kneeling to stroke his daughter’s cheek. “After what you told me about Alex’s father torpedoing your vacation, I would feel bad if I dragged you away from it. Go,” he said, rising back to his feet. “Go school your friends and servants at cards, I promise I’ll swing by before dinner,” he added, stepping into the lift.
Back in the lounge, several of the skjalds – mainly the younger ones, who had presumably never seen him before – were looking rather shellshocked. Jake, who had, ironically enough, met him several times, swept up the cards, sensing that nobody was interested at continuing the game, and to avoid losing any more than he already had.
Freya walked back in, diminished but still clearly happy. “We’ll just see him at dinner.”
“Cool.” Venus clambered to her feet. “What do you want to do before then?”
“I want to go and yell at Bjorn for keeping this a secret,” Freya grumbled, “but that wouldn’t be smart. Let’s just go get ready, huh? I’m too nervous to do anything else,” she said with a weak grin. “Actually, that’s not fair, you guys go do whatever you want, I shouldn’t press nerves on you guys,” she said.
“Naw, that’s fine,” Remilia said.
Jake turned to his opponent and shook his hand, collecting his chips. “Thanks for the game.”
Above, Russ settled into his throne in the holotank room, as Redwind and Bjorn bowed low to their King. “Father Russ, welcome home,” Redwind said.
“Rise, brothers. Speak to me of your plan,” Leman said, leaning forward as he did.
Bjorn spoke. “The camps yield your sons, of course…but the problems remain.”
“Of course,” Russ growled. He leaned back in his seat, sounding disgusted. “And the deployments?
“Well enough, Lord,” Redwind replied. “Two officers of the Army were here a while ago reporting in on their own roles in the deployment. It seems smooth enough…but we haven’t mobilized on this scale in a very long time.”
“No,” Russ agreed. “How did First get off?”
“Very fast, fortunately enough,” Bjorn said, again hiding his irritation. “Sending that many Dreadnoughts off at once…it was a logistical nightmare. Fortunately, the Iron Priests were prepared.”
“Good.” Russ peered over at his ancient friend. “Something else troubles you.”
“It does, King Leman,” Bjorn grumbled. “We’re wasting time. It’s been too long since we took the fight TO the green filth. We can defend against their raids, sure, but then we start losing worlds when we’re not close enough. We have outposts ninety thousand light years from Terra, but we can’t keep control of a single trade lane in the Ultramarines’ back yard?” he asked coldly. “Someone is at fault for this.”
Russ let his eyes narrow a bit. “And at whose feet,” he asked quietly, “do you lay the blame?”
“The Navy,” Bjorn answered instantly, with Redwind nodding in silent assent to his mentor’s words. “They simply aren’t doing enough to hold and expand the territory we sacrificed four millennia to take.”
The Wolf King regarded his advisors with a sense of surprise stealing through him. Bjorn’s words so closely echoed his own, to the Emperor a mere month before, that he felt honestly taken aback.
He slowly rose from his throne, pacing around the holotank. The empty space below filled with light as he approached, showing the colossal web of ‘safe’ Warp routes through which the Chartist Captains and Rogue Traders and Explorators hawked their wares, hauled their goods, wove their deals, and explored the galaxy. Clearly, from its presence, this had been a topic of some discussion in the Council of late.
“I see,” Russ said slowly. He looked over at where his two Lords were staring at him, unmoving. “I do not…disagree…” he said, his voice trailing off a bit. He looked down into the tank and picked out four small runes around an intersection of two trade lanes: suspected Hrud nests. A black sphere nearby bespoke the alleged presence of a Webway Gate the Dark Eldar had only recently reactivated.
Threats. Slowly, the dark places on the map were filling with them. Once, ancient Terran mariners had filled the blankness of their sea-charts with depictions of horrible beasts, to represent to the ignorant the dangers of exploring the unknown. How prophetic of them it had been in this instance.
“Brothers, your words are familiar,” Russ finally said, speaking quietly, and standing stock-still. His eyes – perhaps the best in the human race after his fathers’ – picked over the map, searching for a foe he could reach out and crush. An enemy neck, to test his blades upon, a target he could break for his father’s will…a danger he could undo to make the world a little bit safer for his beloved wife and beautiful daughter.
“They are my words,” he finally said. “I said the exact same thing to the All-Father, less than four weeks ago. Even the bit about the Navy being…inadequate.”
Redwind blinked in surprise. Bjorn smirked in vindication.
“I told Freya when I arrived that the new Saturnine Fleet vessels would be distributed amongst the Legions, and I spoke the truth,” Russ said. “What I did not say was that those vessels will be IMMEDIATELY staffed and crewed by Titanian and Martian crewers the Emperor and Horus handpicked, and dispatched to reinforce the Warp lanes around the Legionary homeworlds the instant they are consecrated,” he finished, emphasis raising the tone of his voice. “And the rest of the Solar shipyards will be doing the same. We will divert tithes if we must: the shipyards of Segmentum Solar will not fall quiet ever again.”
“What do you mean, Father?” Redwind asked. Bjorn’s smile turned toothy as comprehension dawned.
“I mean that the Emperor agreed with me. Horus, Sanguinius, Rogal and I approached the Emperor with a plan to expand the Imperium’s borders…but do so within our existing borders,” Russ said, looking down into the tank once more. Less than twenty nine percent of the galaxy within the Astronomican’s range was under human control, less than fifty percent of the galaxy total.
“So…you mean, then, to fortify the existing inter-Segmentum trade and transit lines…then push outward from worlds on their course?” Redwind asked, his Astartes mind deriving his master’s intent.
Russ gave him a nod of mixed pride and bloodthirsty approval. “Very good, Ackur, very good,” he said.
Redwind nodded to acknowledge the compliment.
Bjorn spoke again. “So Earth and the Legionary homeworlds will be the hubs of this expansion?”
“Not exactly.” Russ turned to gesture at the map. “The Segmentum Solar is the physically smallest Segmentum, yet it contains the largest number of Forge Worlds by twenty percent more than Ultima. Why? Because the Martians didn’t always have FTL drives as fast as the ones we have now. The galaxy’s industrial core is there because that’s where Mars is. So the Forge Worlds of the Segmentum Solar will all be the hubs of this drive inwards…and the Legionary home worlds will be the lynchpins, the points from which the elite troops and intelligence-gathering services muster.”
“Just like the Crusade,” Redwind said, comprehension dawning.
“Bulls-eye,” Russ growled. “The Solar Expansion will see every dark place on the map explored. I have no love for the Eldar, but even they see the wisdom of this plan; I’m told the Emperor contacted Biel-Tan and Alaitoc with this idea and they gave their enthusiastic approval.”
“What the hell for?” Bjorn asked curtly.
“Apparently, there are many unaccounted-for Webway portals and Exodite worlds within the theoretical boundaries of human space,” Russ said.
Bjorn shook his head. “No, I mean why do we care what the Eldar think? All the craftworlds are migrating out to where Ultran’s making his little fortress, out in the Ghoul Stars.”
Russ snorted. “I couldn’t give a thundering fuck what they think. But the Emperor flat-out told me that the Eldar want the expanding Hrud and Ork threats inside Imperial space neutralized for the safety of their ancestral cousins, and that so long as we don’t attempt to colonize any of the Maiden Worlds, they may even lend us their starmaps, thus saving us incalculable amounts of money. They did colonize this galaxy first, after all…and they’ve re-explored less than a hundredth of the colony worlds they lost when they fucked Slaanesh into being.”
>FTL drives

You mean Warp Drives. Only Oldcrons had FTL.
I think one of the things I like about this alternate universe is the attitude everyone seems to take towards Chaos. In regular 40k, I don't think even Russ could get away with saying the words, "fucked," and, "Slaanesh," in the same sentence. In this one, though, it's not as much of a big deal. Chaos seems kind of like a big spiky pebble in everyone's shoe; nobody likes it, but they don't whisper about it in abject terror, either.
Well, it's more that Russ himself holds Chaos in complete contempt. Curze, Sanguinius, and Perturabo take it dead serious. Russ also profoundly dislikes the Eldar.

Warp drives existed before Navigators did. Russ is using them interchangeably.
Bjorn and Redwind exchanged disgusted looks, but kept silent. Russ was internally grateful for their lack of further dissent. No Wolf alive could change Russ’ course when he and the Emperor both had their minds set to a task, after all, and Russ was in no mood for his homecoming to be scarred by an argument with two of his most trusted friends and commanders.
“Any comments to register, my sons?” Russ asked, point-blank, just to be sure.
“None, really,” Redwind said. “Disregarding that Eldar bit, I think it’s a grand idea.”
The millennia-old Terminator shrugged. Though he could be described as ‘stoic’ and ‘grumpy’ in a single sentence, he also knew a reasonable argument when he heard one. “I would lead them myself, if you asked me…but you won’t. Will you, Leman?” he asked rhetorically.
“I came here for several reasons, old friend…and one of them is to lead the Brothers in person once more,” Russ said, turning his eyes to the holotank again. Fenris glowed in the maze, all but invisible in the sea of five hundred million stars. He could find it, though. He had stared at that star millions of times on thousands of maps, even as more and more worlds appeared on the maps around it, and he could have found it blindfolded by now. Soon, the empty places around it would fill even more…but he knew he could find it again.
“I have missed running with my brothers in the fields of war, I will not lie,” Russ said, staring down at the artificial galaxy. “But I will wait. The campaign will not begin until all assets are constructed and in place. ‘Expedience in the absence of foresight leads to catastrophe,’” he quoted Hawser. The Primarch turned to his Wolf Lords. “The Legions of Mars must be able to keep pace with the Legions of Terra and Fenris and Nocturne and Inwit and Macragge and Medusa, after all.”
“Oh? What will the Martians be up to?” Redwind asked.
“Beyond the obvious and urgent need for more exploratory and troop-transport ships for this expansion, they will be called upon to transport whatever STC artifacts and useful xenotech we find, obviously,” Russ said. “But the Collegio Titanica will be our armored spear, here. We will be fighting xeno empires that not only eluded the Crusade for three thousand seven hundred years, but in some cases ESCAPED it,” he pointed out. “We will need the War Titans on this quest, you may be entirely certain of it. And if we are to expand into the galaxy once more…then by the Worldsea of Fenris, we will need our armored companies,” Russ added darkly.
“Of course, Sire,” Redwind said, bowing his head in agreement.
Russ sank back into his throne and gestured once. The holotank switched off once more. “The Martians may not be ready to supply us with the ships, Titans, and Skitarii forces we need for twenty years,” Russ said. “And the eighteen years of peace we have enjoyed have…softened the Army. Not all of it, of course, but some. Enough to be a problem. And the Rogue Traders, who once served alongside the Explorators, have grown fat and complacent,” he added with a tone of unadulterated disgust in his voice. He HATED Rogue Traders. Some were little better than privateers and heretek mercenaries, serving the Emperor and Mars in name alone.
>hates Rogue Traders

Hoo boy. How much does he know about Alex's background, exactly?

He's smart enough not to hold it against the kid. Much.
Bjorn, whose personal views on Rogue Traders hewed closer to his masters’ than in any other regard, nodded in weary agreement. “I would not be so quick to discount the Army though, Sire,” he said. “Was it not you who said that the Astartes often forget the sheer bravery of the mortal man, who is motivated to fight to defend his family and honor?”
“It was,” Russ conceded with the faintest grin of self-reproach.
The ancient one nodded, his point made and received. Redwind sensed the conversation ending and bowed low.
“How shall I impart your plan to the Brothers?” he asked.
Russ straightened up in his throne. “You shall not. Not verbally, at least. As I said, there could be two uninterrupted decades of hard work ahead of us. Step up recruitment as much as we can short of provoking battle between the clans outright, see to it that we secure as many designs for fresh hardware from the Mechanicus as we can without stepping on anyone’s mechadendrites…quietly. We have many foes, with many ears to hear and eyes to see. I trust the Techpriests here, of course, for they stand to gain as much as we do. Lost Forge Worlds! Entire archives of human history and knowledge. STC relics! But caution is the preserve of the living victorious, and indiscretion the preserve of the dead vainglorious.”
“Well said, Sire,” Redwind said. He rose and allowed himself a small, satisfied grin. “Anything else I should do, before I go to see to this instruction?”
At long last, everything was in place. The Missiles were fully ready to fire, fuelled with warheads armed and targets locked and now all that remained was for the Orks to take the bait, push on the walls. The sun would shortly rise, already the sky was more grey than black, and when the Orks saw how few men and women were actually on the walls their base instincts would overwhelm them and they would pour forth seeking blood and battle. That was when Ahriman would launch.

There would be nearly a five minute delay between the launching and the impact, and Ahriman wanted to be there standing on the walls when the warheads come down, and watch the Orks burn.

These thoughts were almost alien to him, and yet he welcomed them. He now knew what it must be like for a Space Wolf or a World Eater, to relish in the destruction they could cause. Once he would have hated being compared to either of those two legions, but after his failures elsewhere he now knew of the cleansing powers of bloodshed, how he could purify his soul with the blood of the foe. He understood a measure of the satisfaction such violence could bring.
“My Lord! The ground augers have detected movement, heading for the Deathstrikes!” the Caorst Sous-lieutenant called out urgently. Ahriman immediately cast his mind underground, and sure enough, burrowing its way under the city like a maggot, a looted Imperial Mole was powering its way through the earth beneath the city, clipping pipes and wires along the way. The Orks must have found out about the gift Ahriman was about to give them, and decided to stop its launch. Tracing the strings of fate forward, Ahriman found exactly where the Mole would emerge, merely a hundred yards from the Deathstrikes. Were he not here, the Orks might well have got away with it. But he was here, and all the brave or foolish Orks had earned themselves was a painful death, the first of millions to receive that gift from Ahriman.

“Akkaid Formation! Fourth company take the left, sixth company the right! Bring up some armour on the double!” His commands, amplified by his armour were swiftly taken up by the Caorst Panxers. He directed the troops to take up positions around where the Mole would emerge, and soon the position was surrounded by a ring of steel. A pair of Malcadors and a Malcador Defender took up position supporting the Panxergrenadiers. Their heavy guns would no doubt be critical to whatever happened next.
Ahriman could clearly see the Mole with his Aethersight as it made its final ascent, and he corrected the aim of the troops closest to him, so that not a single shot would be wasted.

The blunt drilling snout of the Mole pushed its way out of the earth and through the rockrete like some evil probe, ripping apart the surface and sending chunks of rockrete flying here and there. Watching it slowly emerge from the earth, Ahriman was reminded of some repulsive grub blindly spreading disease and destruction. It was an intrusion, a blight, one he would soon lance. The Orks would not stop him getting his revenge.

“Do not fire until I give the command.” Every gun was trained on it, one word and there would be nothing left but shards of scrap metal. But he wanted the Orks to see, to know they had been beaten before he destroyed them.

Finally the armoured disembarkation hatch was exposed and a few seconds later it stopped, the spinning drill coming to a halt. Now there was no sound but the faint whine of its powerplant shutting down, the low grumble of the Caorst vehicles idling their engines and the click of weapons trained upon it.
The door hissed open, and Ahriman saw movement within. He was about to give the order to fire, but something stopped him, and when the figure revealed itself, he saw why.

Of all the things he had expected to emerge from the Mole, a human, an attractive young woman was almost literally the last thing on his list. Yet that was exactly who was now cautiously standing outside the Mole, her hands raised high above her head. She could see the troops and tanks, every gun trained on both her and the Mole.

Is anyone reading any of this?
im reading
“My Lord, what the flying fuck is going on?” the Sous-lieutenant blurted. Ahriman knew how he felt, the auras of all the Caorst troops flared with confusion at what had just come out of the Mole. Many of them had removed their fingers from the triggers of their lasguns, or lowered their weapons. However Ahriman knew that the Orks could be using human slaves to mask their entrance, making the defenders let down their guard before they revealed themselves.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this. If anything happens to me, fire.” With that, he started walking towards the Mole.

There was an awed hush among the defenders as he marched out towards the intruders. As he walked he extended his aura and filled it with fire, and crimson flames blazed along the length of his heqa staff, ways to cow the newcomers in case they were not what they appeared. As he came closer, Ahriman rose through the Enumerations to shield himself from the raw terror coming from the humans. There were now four covering before his approach, the woman having been joined by a dark skinned man, a man built like a brick wall and another man who was obviously from Tanith, with the raven hair common to his native world and a blue tattoo over one eye.

Finally he towered before them, a giant in crimson plate, his weapon wreathed in aetheric fire and his aura blazing like a nova. He could see no trace of an Ork presence, but he had to be sure.
“I am Ahzek Ahriman, Lord of the Corvidae and Chief Librarian of the XVth Legion.” He thundered. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” flames blazed in the lenses of his helmet, and all of them took a step back, pressed between him and the Mole.

“We…that is to say Oll…said we needed to see you My Lord.” The dark skinned one forced out. “He said…we have to…give you a warning.”

“I am Lord of the Corvidae, I need no warnings!” now they all were pressed against the Mole. “Why are you here?!”

“Professor?” a shockingly familiar voice came from inside the Mole, and Ahriman’s control of the Enumerations slipped and crashed.

For a second, Ahriman thought his Transhuman eyes were not working properly as a final figure emerged from the Mole and joined the others. The last time he had seen him was back in the dark depths of the Emperor’s palace, as the Emperor laid his judgement down upon the both of them. And now both of them were her, on a world at war. His aura was different, tempered, hardened by weeks of war. And there was something else too, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was no such thing as coincidence; they must have both been brought here for a reason. But what was that reason?

All of this flashed through Ahriman’s mind in an instant, and finally he lowered his voice.

“Julius, what in the name of the Great Ocean are you doing here?”
The others all stared, first at Ahriman and then at Julius. The way their auras flashed yellow told Ahriman that Julius hadn’t revealed his true identity to them. The cat was out of the bag, but Ahriman would let Julius reveal the truth in his own time.

Even Julius was cowed by his fearsome appearance, but he pressed on regardless.

“Professor, there is something we need you to know. Summer and I.” He gestured to the woman, and Ahriman saw his aura flicker. Something had happened between them somewhere, but Ahriman held his tongue, it was not his right to comment. “We were off somewhere in the outer city, and we saw something.”

“Are you saying you’re the resistance? The ones who have been fighting the occupiers in the outer city these past few weeks?” he asked forcefully.

“We are.” the woman, Summer Julius had called her, who now moved forward to stand beside him. Her act defused Ahriman’s anger, and he let the fire fade from his aura and his weapon, and he lowered his heqa staff.
“So, you are the ones who have been fighting the greenskin occupiers. Well met.” He reached out his hand, and the woman named Summer unhesitatingly reached out and shook it, though her slender fingers could only wrap around two of Ahriman’s digits. As she shook he abruptly recognised her. She was one of the CDA volunteers who had assisted them at the breach; the ones who Ahriman had thought were dead. It seemed he was mistaken, but this was one of the few times Ahriman was glad he had been mistaken. The others now came forward as well. Ahriman asked each their names as he greeted them. The dark one was Scvott, a name which gave Ahriman a smile as he recognised how it sounded almost the same as the name of the abhumans who dwelled in the galactic core. The Tanith was Flynn, and the broad one with a permanent scowl was Dyllion. In brief Julius explained what had happened to them, how they had been cut off when the Imperial forces retreated, how they had found a sanctuary under the city and how they had fought the greenskins for the last twenty-five days, and how they had captured and escaped with the Mole, all to deliver a warning.

“You truly are your father’s son Julius, and all of you should be proud of your achievements.” was Ahriman’s comment on all that. “Now, what is so important you have had to hijacked a Mole and burrow under the city to deliver it?”

“Professor, ser, Summer and I saw something inside the outer Defence laser bunker. Something bad, something which changes everything.” He swallowed, before forcing out. “We saw a Daemon.”
Ahriman saw their auras, and knew they weren’t lying. He wished they were though. His worst fears were realised, the Primordial Annihilator was active on this world. All those bad feelings, all those nagging doubts, now they all fell into place. The reason he hadn’t detected the Rok which had opened the outer walls, the strings of fate he couldn’t untangle, all of it now made perfect sense. He was one of the very few who understood the true nature of the Primordial Annihilator and its fell servants, and one of them being active here meant that this world or something on it was important to the schemes of Chaos.

He extended his mind out towards the Defence Laser bunker, but found a baffling nothingness around it his mind couldn’t penetrate. Time and again he probed it, seeking an entrance, but there was nothing. He briefly considered releasing his body of light, and straightaway dismissed it. His body of light would be no match for a Daemon, his mistflesh would die easily under the powers of Chaos. If the utter honesty in their auras hadn’t convinced him, this certainly did.
“Then this world is in deep danger. I will take you to the PDF command centre, where you can explain more thoroughly exactly what you saw so I can work out a proper response, and maybe we can get you all a change of clothes. Even the filtering units in my helmet can’t keep out your stench.” They all blushed at his blunt statement, and behind his helmet he offered himself a small smile, which only partly succeeded in covering the turmoil within him. He now knew the true face of the enemy, but he didn’t know how he could combat it, he was no Grey Knight. And those Deathstrikes were now a no-go. If the Daemon wanted to summon more of its kind, it would need sacrifices in the millions. And that was almost what he had unwittingly delivered. He shuddered when he realised how close he had come to damning this world with his actions.

Suddenly a PDF runner, accompanied by the Caorst Sous-lieutenant dashed up towards them at hectic speed. Their auras were blazing, important news.

“My Lord! My Lord! You are needed at the PDF command centre immediately!”

“Why? If the Graf wants to see me about why I haven’t launched yet, she can damn well stick it up her…”

“No sir, the Astropaths have made contact! It’s the Liberation Fleet sir, it’s arrived!”
I guess Ahriman is ducking out for a bit.

All right, I'll post a bit more.
Russ nodded once, relaxing back into his seat again. “Tell me,” he said genially, his anticipation and bloodlust vanishing in a heartbeat, “of little Freya’s vacation.”
Redwind chuckled at the sudden change of tone. “Well, Sire…it’s been eventful. Not always in the good way, either.”
“Oh?” Russ asked.
“Yes. She loves it here, of course…but her friends have found it all somewhat overwhelming,” Redwind admitted. “They were attacked by krakenspawn when they went fishing, as well. It unnerved the Terran, Seager, and the Trader, Carlin, greatly.”
“Those boys have been having a rough few months,” Russ muttered. “Are they all right?”
“They are now, yes, but they didn’t think they’d have to…let’s say it: hose down the local fauna with an autorifle to survive their first week,” Redwind said. “They’ve kept to their quarters for the most part since.”
“A shame,” Russ said. “But…this is Fenris. I thought I impressed upon Freya the dangers of taking her friends and cousins here before they departed.”
“So did she,” Redwind said unaccusatorily. “She thought they could handle it. She was wrong.”
Russ went silent for a moment, thinking. Both other men sensed it when he made up his mind. He rose from his throne. “I think I will speak to them directly.”
If no one else is doing it can I have a crack at Kelly in the Post-Mortia-getting-shot therapy? Maybe write her up a relationship?
If you'd like, sure. Hop in the IRC, or don't, at your leisure.
I was getting an ok before I started.
Remilia flipped back on her bed and crossed her arms under her head. “So, Freya,” she started, smirking at her cousin, who was practically wringing her hands at the foot of the bed. “How you doin’ right now?”
“Flipping out!” Freya said. She grinned nervously, crossing her arms over her stomach. All five teens were lounging around Remilia’s room. Alex was still a bit anxious, since the elder Russ had never professed to be any friend of his. Then, he probably wouldn’t have let either him or Jake come to the Fang if he found them untrustworthy. “Are you guys okay? Dad can be kind of…you know, overwhelming.”
“You almost sound like you’re scared,” Jake said in surprise.
“Do I? I’m really not. Just anxious. We have a lot to talk about.”
“I’m a bit nervous, but only because…well. It’s your Dad,” Alex said. “I swear he still doesn’t like me.”
Freya shrugged. “Oh, hush. He’ll be fine, I promise.” She suddenly glanced at the door, mischievous. “Although…if you want to confuse the hell out of him, I know a thing we could do.”
Russ rode the lifts down to the VIP guest quarters, wondering if he would have the chance to get Freya to tell him exactly what had happened with the krakenspawn. As he emerged on the right floor, the most curious conversation met his ears. They were, after all, the second best in the entire Imperium.
“I’m telling you, that’s simply not fair,” Remilia was insisting.
“We could ask Uncle Leman,” Venus said.
“Why would he even care? And besides, when would he wear them in the first place?” Remilia asked.
“But it’s a question of definition!” Venus insisted. “And who better to define the word ‘tactical?’”
“Beyond the obvious?” Remilia sniffed.
“Guys, come now. We’re not going to want to bother Dad with whether or not you can define cargo pants as ‘tactical jhorts,’” Freya said with a sigh.
“Your definition is too narrow!” Venus said as Leman approached the right door.
“You’re too narrow,” Freya muttered.
“Go chase a car,” Venus said in the same tone.
Russ rounded the corner into the room to see all three girls arguing while the boys stared at them in a mixture of surprise and shock. Russ coughed. “Please don’t halt the argument for my benefit,” he said drily, knowing full well they had been arguing for just that reason.
Freya snapped her fingers. “Damn, he never falls for that any more.” She struggled to her feet. “He fell for it once, never again.”
What ever happen to Emperasque? is that still on the table? i love all your writings but Emperasque is my favorite

We'd love to hear your ideas for the story, and the IRC is always open to writefags.
I want to finish this first.
“Once, and I’m sure you’ll never let me forget,” Russ sighed, leaning over to accept a gleeful hug from his daughter. “How have you all been? A bit roughed up, I hear?”
“I think it’s more the roughing-ups we avoided, Sire,” Jake said, struggling to force his nerves down. “It is good to see you again though, your Highness, and Fenris is an amazing place,” he added, bowing.
“It is,” Russ said. He took a step back and leaned against the wall, having removed his power armor for a more practical leather and fabric tunic. “So. What else have you done here so far?”
Freya piped up. “Well, we went on a rock-climbing excursion with Grey Hunter Hasskald of Tra,” she started. “Before that we went on a trip to the beach of the Everocean, but that got cut short by a skirmish between two tribes nearby…let’s see, we had a hot spring scene,” she said, drawing a chuckle from her father. “But I also went on a day trip to a large Krennir village, just to see how things work out here. You know, see the people a little.”
Russ nodded, catching her drift. They’d discuss it in privacy later. “And what else?”
“We’ve been spending some time at the range in the lower levels, and we toured the Hammerhold,” Venus put in. “And the fishing trip, of course.”
“I see.” Russ nodded again, thinking. He noted that both of the Terrans were deflating a bit, their nerves easing considerably. Well, the hiver was. Carlin, not as much. He was still wound tight as a spring coil. He was distantly satisfied. “Perhaps I can come up with some ideas as to what you can do while you’re here,” he said, coming back to the point. “How much longer are you here?”
“Nine days,” Freya said. “Then straight back to Terra.”
“Right.” Russ crossed his arms over his chest and smiled knowingly. “I imagine spending so much time here has grown somewhat repetitive,” he said.
Remilia and the other non-Fenrisians shifted awkwardly. Russ waved it away. “It’s nothing, I expected as much. But then, I knew I would be dropping by,” he said with a sly little grin. “I will be here for the next…let’s say ninety Terran Standard Days. As much as my time’s going to be taken up by work, I would feel like a terrible host if I didn’t offer you all the chance to see the Fang from its owner’s perspective,” Russ said. He smiled faintly. “Or perhaps one of the places I bet you haven’t seen yet outside?”
“Did you have something specific in mind, your Highness?” Jake asked carefully.
“I do indeed, Sieur Seager,” Russ said. He straightened back up. “First, however, it’s well after supper, you must all be famished. Freya, I’d like to speak to you after you’ve eaten, just drop by my own quarters when you have a moment.” He nodded once. “I will see you all tomorrow.”
Freya bounced up from the bed and followed him into the hall, pausing him as he walked away. “Is something wrong, Dad?” she asked.
“Not at all,” Russ said, reaching down to squeeze her shoulder. He smiled as she shrugged his hand off, pretending to be annoyed. “Trust me, I just want to hear how things have been going and talk about your college plans. Really. We can talk after dinner tonight if you like.”
“I think I would,” Freya said. She planted her hands on her hips and stared at the deckplates, thinking. “Yeah. I would. If you’re not busy.”
Russ nodded and stepped into the lift. “Tonight, then.”
Still thinking on therapist's name. Jist: meet in waiting room of clinic. Boyfriend will be Inquisitorial reference, awkward silence when she says your dad works for my dad. Go from there.

All right, just so long as we're clear: general policy for ALL WHH stories is to assume that only the one you're reading is canon. So if you're reading Tales of Victory, only Tales of Victory is canon. If you're reading Just Another Day on Void Platform 13, then Just Another Day on Void Platform 13 is canon, and nothing else. It's been that way since day one, over three years ago.

I make mention only because you appear to be setting the story in Bleeding Out, but mentioning the Inquisition, which doesn't exist in Bleeding Out.
As the group took dinner in their rooms, Freya raced through the food, hoping to get away to speak to her father. She bolted as soon as the food was gone, pausing only long enough to grab Bjorn’s gifts to show her father.
As she arrived at his chambers, however, she found him in the middle of a blazing argument with two officers, and hovered nervously outside the door until they tromped out, muttering to themselves. As they left, Freya entered, glancing around for her father. King Russ himself was hunched over the table at the farthest wall, paging through his papers with an air of intense annoyance. Freya coughed from the door to the room.
Russ spun around, his anger melting into fond attention in an instant. “Freya, come in,” he said.
“Am I interrupting, Father?” Freya asked in Juvjk.
“No, we’re all done,” Russ said, beckoning her closer. “Tell me of your adventure.”
“Do you want the short version from the letters, or the longer, more detailed version?” Freya asked.
“I have time for the full one, I think,” Russ said.
Freya walked up beside him, begrudgingly tolerating his ruffling her hair. “Well…right off the bat, the ship’s officers started clamoring for attention…”
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Sorry, folks, but it's just too late here. See you all tomorrow.

And for all you Emperasque fans, fear not, more is coming. I just want to finish this story first. Then Emperasque, then Corsair Witches (MAYBE), then...who the fuck knows.

I leave you with an adorable middle school Farah.
Part Three: Liberation

The Klaxon howled throughout the ship, its hollow echo reverberating throughout the bridge as the massed fleet of warships and troopships emerged from the seething tempest of the immaterium in a blaze of energy. Plasmic wisps from the Warp continued to linger around the ships as they sped forth into material space.

Sitting on his command throne, he listened as reports came in from the other ships in his fleet, ensuring no ships were lost or scattered. A ship was at its most vulnerable in the moments immediately after re-entering normal space, when its power levels were still in flux and the energy burst of its warp exit broadcast its existence and position to any other vessel in the system. Entry was also critical to a battle, too close and you were likely to be destroyed before you could return fire, too far and you gave the enemy ample time to prepare for your arrival and lost the ever-critical element of surprise. He had always been a master of tactics.

His ship was the Ullanor, an Emperor-Class Command-Carrier Battleship which had once been the flagship of the famous Lord Commander Gustav Von Vitterriecvht, commander of the legendary forty-thirty-forth Imperial Army. Though the Lord Commnader, who had fought in the entire crusade from beginning to end, had died many years ago his legacy of conquest lived on in the Ullanor, and the commander knew this.
Cruising beside his flagship was a battleship which surpassed even the Ullanor, with a prow sheathed in dark ocean green. It moved as a dagger might in the hand of an assassin, slow but inescapable, inexorable. Unlike most Imperial warships, all gaudily decorated, it bore only two decorations: a golden spread eagle with two heads across the face of the flying bridge and a great icon made of heavy nickel-iron ore, a single stone skull set inside a hollow steel ring in the shape of a star, at the very tip of the prow, watchful and threatening. The Endurance, Flagship of the XIV Legion.

Behind her came more of her kind, Legion ships ranging in class, size and colour both larger and smaller: the Indomitable Will, Barbarus’s Sting, Gotthammar, Sanctity of Saramanth, Epsilon, Spear of Sedros, Benthos, Shield of Sanguinius, Iron Tide and more, and this was excluding the regular naval vessels like the Ullanor. Ships from no fewer than twelve of the Astartes Legions were present; a total of fifty ships all up. A combined fleet like this hadn’t been gathered since the Crusade had ended.

“My Lord, the fleet has arrived in-system without mishap. All ships are accounted for. ETA to Seadelant, twenty-five minutes.” The aide nervously told to the figure on the throne as he checked a dataslate to ensure there had been no mishaps in translation. The last thing they needed were literal ghosts in the machine caused by warp entities.
“Very good. Very good indeed, we arrived in precisely the right place. Have the Astropaths attempt to establish contact with the surface immediately, and patch me through to the Endurance. Our Lord will want to be informed.” The man rose from his throne, unplugging several implants as he did so and strode down the steps of his throne towards the data-projector. He tapped a few buttons to bring up a series of tactical projections, and then turned to face an as yet unarrived presence.

There was flickering crackle of energy and Lord Mortarion of the Death Guard towered before him, his presence undiminished even though he was an electronic ethereal figure. His image faded in and out of focus, occasionally dividing in the bizarre mitosis of distance distortion. He lowered the blade of his Manreaper scythe in greeting, which was in itself a warmer hail than the man had been expecting. Several seconds later, the figure of Ezekyle Abaddon, first Captain of the Sons of Horus materialised beside Mortarion and a split second later was joined by Phosis T’kar of the Thousand Sons and Zichar Ir'Sem of the Salamanders. Such hallowed company would bend most people in awe, but this man wasn’t most people. He nodded his head briefly and then cut straight to the point.

“My Lord Primarch, my Lord Captains, the fleet has arrived in full and is preparing for attack pattern Zulu even as we speak. Long ranged scanners are probing the enemy for tactical data, and our astropaths are trying to raise the surface and see who remains there. All is present and correct, and the fleet stands ready. What are your orders?”

“Admiral Kulenka, your entry has been most satisfactory.” Mortarion rasped. “Once again you prove yourself as the best commander in Battlefleet Solar.”
“My Lord Primarch is generous. Have you seen my tactical calculations?”

“We all have.” That was Abaddon. “As thorough as always. We see no need for you to modify your plans; you know exactly what you are doing.”

“My Lord, before we commence operations, I must ask you about the chain of command. Will you leave to lead the ground elements, or will you stay and command from the Endurance?”

“Admiral, I shall be commanding the ground effort in person, so you will be in full command of the space battle. All Legion ships will obey your orders as if you were the Warmaster himself.”

Kulenka blinked, the simple act concealing a flurry of emotions. It was extremely rare for a navy commander of any rank to be given command of Legion vessels; in fact it hadn’t happened since the Crusade had ended. He nodded, his mind racing about how the various Legion ships, in particular the Gotthammar from the VI Legion and the Thunderer from the XII Legion, would take a regular human commanding them.
Kulenka had one more point to make. “I must remind my Lord, we are now within the range of the Hulk’s Psy-ECM. We will have no way of communicating with Terra or anywhere else until the Hulk is destroyed.”

“Then destroy it Admiral. You are known as the best at Hulk busting, there are four killed Hulks to your name. We all have full faith in your abilities.” The figures cut out.

Kulenka made a few more checks, before returning to his throne. As he plugged himself back in, he was reminded of the weight of responsibility now resting on his shoulders. He’d occasionally commanded a single legion ship of two during joint actions, but never this many. Never from this many legions. But he was Kulenka. Cold and calculating Kulenka, the star of Battlefleet Solar. If anyone could pull this off, it would be him.

“Send this message to the fleet. Load all weapons and Torpedoes, and ensure all fighters and bombers are fuelled and ready to fly. The Hulk dies today. Ave Imperator!”


Julius could barely keep up with Professor Ahriman as he powered his way towards the PDF command centre. He knew Ahriman was an Astartes, a warrior first and foremost, and he thought he understood what that was like after seeing him in action in the Petitioner’s City, but he had been proven wrong. In battle, Ahriman was an angel of death, barely human at all. The way he’d stood there before them all in front of the Mole, like he was mere milliseconds away from slaughtering them gave Julius the chills. He now saw the former Warp Studies teacher in an entirely new light.
He led them to the pyramid-like PDF Command Centre, and once inside he directed them to a large communal sleeping chamber with multiple bunk beds and an attached shower. “Wait here. I will see you all once I’ve spoken with the Liberation fleet, been appraised of the details. There are changes of clothes in the closet and a shower, so clean yourselves up.” His helmet lingered over Julius, who knew what it meant: tell them the truth. As if he needed another reason to feel guilty.

Julius listened to the sound of Ahriman’s boots crashing on the polished floor as he walked off, and then turned to face his fellows. Scvott looked disappointed, Dyllion had his trademark scowl, and Flynn looked sad. But Summer though, she looked hurt, and that hurt Julius most of all. He had wanted not to hurt her, and now that was inevitable.

“I think we should all get clean first, and then I will give you the truth.” He managed to say, and they nodded, though not at him.

He took first turn; the others would want to be alone for a while to discuss what they would do. He turned the knob stood under the downpour, letting the water wash over him like a baptismal. He only wished he could wash his soul clean as easily. At his feet the water was a muddy brown, he hadn’t realised how filthy he really was after so many weeks. The spare clothes were the grey and white of Administratum menials, but after weeks of nothing but that bodyglove, even these coarse and rough garments felt like bliss.
He left, and straightaway Scvott pushed past him to take his turn. Julius shuffled over to one of the beds, and heavily sat down on it, not looking at anyone. He stayed there as the others took their turns, not saying a single word. Finally with a muted cough, he turned to see the others all standing behind him dressed in the same garments he was in, their looks demanding answers. With the weeks of accumulated grime all washed off they looked normal again, Summer in particular looked positively radiant but for the hurt look in her brown eyes.

Julius took a deep breath. This was it. No more lies, no more secrets. “The cat’s out of the bag. I’ve lied to you all since the very moment I first met you all. I didn’t know any of you then, but I do now, and I have hated myself for lying to you. Well that stops right here, right now. My name is not Oll, as you’ve no doubt guessed. It’s Julius. Julius Pius.”

He let it sink in, and Scvott was the first to respond.
“Julius…Pius? Does that mean…”


The effect was immediate. They all backed away from him, even Summer. Wearily he gestured to them. “Bloody hell, you’re better than that. I’m the same bloody person who fought with you these last thirty days. Nothing has changed. Nothing.”

They reversed their steps, but now they were treating him differently, like he was on a pedestal high above them. He had always known that this would be how they would treat him if they found out, and he hated that.
“That means you’re from Terra, you weren’t just visiting it.” Summer stated flatly.

“My birth certificate has me as a native of Calth, but I’ve lived on Terra since I was two. Until recently, I attended Imperator High there. That’s why I called Ahriman professor, he taught Warp Studies there. What I said about Terra before, all that is true. Terra is a paradox, on the one hand the symbol of the new Imperium, on the other a place of sharp divides between the haves and the have nots. And there are no seas, no forests, just different shades of black, grey and brown. Your planet is more beautiful by far, and I would rather live here than on Terra any day.”

"What the hell are you doing on Seadelant?"

“I spoke the truth before; I was on my way to Calth. Not because I live there, but because that’s where my mother lies. She died shortly after I arrived on Terra, and dad took her ashes back to Calth to be buried. I stayed with Lord and Lady Guilliman while he was gone.”

He almost regretted saying that when he saw the looks on their faces. He was brutally reminded how different his former life was to theirs. He had been brought up alongside the best and brightest, and had known all the Primarchs since he was small. No-one else could lay claim to that, yet here it was more of a curse than a blessing.
“So, the shooting on Terra, you weren’t just there, you were involved with it?” Flynn blurted out.

“Yes, to my eternal shame, yes. Surely you all know what happened to me, the news travelled fast from Terra. Lady Morticia, she’s like a sister to me, all of them are. I took her shooting hard. We all did. We all coped in different ways, some worse than others.”

Rem. whenever he thought of the shooting and its casualties, it always came down to her. It was for her he had sought the answers that he hoped would soothe her wounded soul, answers that simply got him into even worse trouble and solved nothing. “I wanted answers, real ones, and so I took the direct approach and sought those answers myself. And thanks to that, I was nearly killed. We were nearly killed.”

He had finally addressed the Valuphant in the room, the thing which affected him, and by extension Summer, the most. Dyllion was the first to openly state it.

"You're really dating Isis Lupercal? Summer, I hate to say it but you are fucked."
She threw a withering glare at him, but Dyllion was right. Her father Horus was well known for his temper when his blood is up, and Julius knew very well she had inherited that. He had no idea how she would take what had happened to him, or if she would understand the strains and stresses which had led him to make that fateful decision, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone else to have to suffer for his mistakes, least of all Summer.

The others caught his expression, and Scvott cleared his throat. “We, um, we are going to leave you two in peace. You obviously need to discuss a few things. Come with me guys.” They hastily shuffled off and vanished into the shower, leaving Julius and Summer alone. She broke the silence first.

“The girlfriend you were talking about…that was Lady Lupercal?”

“Yes. What I said about her? That was the truth, every last word of it.” he held his head in his hands, took a deep breath. “Living with them, hell, dating one of them can be a bloody nightmare at times. I said I love her, and I do. But now I’ve come to love you as well, and I don’t know what to do about it. Hell, I’m a seventeen year old caught up in something beyond my control, and I feel so helpless.”

She came closer, and sat opposite him, but no closer. Finally the last thing left unaddressed, the biggest thing to her.

“You know Him. You’ve met Him. All this time, and you’ve never told me.” Her words hit him like bullets, stinging of mistrust and wariness. How could he earn that back? By telling the truth, no matter how harsh.
“Summer, how can I put this? How can I tell you about your God? He is the scariest figure I have ever met. He may well be a god, but He is a harsh and vengeful one when He wants to be. There is ruthless ambition and a molten core of violence at the Emperor’s heart, and if He wants something, nothing will stop Him from getting it. His chastisement for what I did in the Petitioner’s city was the worst experience that has ever happened to me, and that includes everything that has happened here. Fighting Orks is one thing, being verbally beaten down by the Emperor something else.” He couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice now, the feeling of utter powerlessness he had felt as the Emperor had pronounced judgement, feeling the awful finality of every word. “Honestly, I wish never to set eyes on Him again, to spend the rest of my life never having to see His fury. None of this is what you want to hear, but I trust you, more than I trust myself.”
He took a deep breath, hoping to curb the tide of bad feels coming from within him.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when all this is over, my life is a mess. I thought I knew where my life was going to go, the path I had laid out for myself. Four years at the Imperial War Academy, followed by the Imperial Army. The Geno, or the Janizars, one of the Old Hundred regiments. My father was a common soldier, but he wanted me to be more. But I’ve seen the real face of battle, and I don’t know if I can handle it again. I’ve been thrust into this life prematurely. My best friend Andrew, Lady Khan’s boyfriend also has a Military career in mind but he wants to become a Warrant Officer, so not frontline. But for me, frontline is in the blood. Surely you know the saying, ‘to do a Pius’.”
She nodded. To do a Pius, army and navy slang for performing an insane feat of heroics, which either got you a medal, or got you killed. Back on Terra, he had been sick and tired of people pointing it out to him.

“But now I don’t know if I can go through with it. I want to live up to my father’s name, but can I face this again? Can I go out there, fight, kill and watch my men and my friends die around me? Can I face that?”

“Julius.” She said, wrapping her tongue round the unfamiliar name. “Two days ago, I told you that you are the bravest man I have ever met. That hasn’t changed. If anyone can overcome what we have experienced since the Sky ran red with foes, it is you. You joined the CDA to help us on this planet fight our foes. You could have fled with the rest of the offworlders, but you didn’t, you stayed and fought beside us. I can’t imagine anyone making a better officer and a leader than you. Don’t worry about what will happen to us after this war is over, it doesn’t matter who you’re dating. If she feels even half of what I feel for you, she will forgive you this one misstep. And don’t worry about me either, despite what you’ve said, the Emperor Protects, and he will protect me if his granddaughter decides to come after me. Being honest, I’m surprised you were able to keep to your vows while dating Lady Lupercal. From what I’ve seen, she’s incredibly attractive. She could make me bat for the other team.”

Julius could barely hide a smile at her words, and she came over, sat down beside him and wrapped her arms around him.
“It’s alright; you guys can come out now.” She called. The shower door opened and the others trooped out. Julius broke from Summer’s embrace, stood up and turned to face them.

“Look all of you. I’m the same bastard you beat at arm wrestling Dyllion, you taught how to strip a gearbox Flynn, you gave sage advice to after he recklessly risked his life Scvott. I didn’t tell you who I was so I could avoid all this, and I’m telling you now, don’t treat me any different because my father was some war hero and I happened to learn alongside the royal daughters.”

Julius opened his mouth to say more, but Summer cut in. “He’s not the only one with a secret. I’ve never told you who I am either. Lantsfalle. Summer Lantsfalle.”

Now it was her turn to be stared at in shock. Dyllion was the first one to speak. “You mean, the Lantsfalles who want to demolish half the city to install those Tsiolkovsky towers? Those rich bastards who have bled half the segmentum with their financial dickery and trade exploitation?” now they were staring at her with distaste.

Julius reached over for her, but she shrugged him off and replied. “Yes, and they are bastards. They have no ethics and no morals either. They disowned me; cast me out because of something I did, which had nothing to do with them. To them, I’m already dead.” She didn’t go into specifics, but their attitudes immediately mellowed.

“I can tell you some stories of life on Terra if you’d like.” Julius added.

The others all clustered around him, and Julius launched into the story of the time Lady Furia lost her cool and because of it had to change her attitude…
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>Alex admired her shapely backside as she rooted around.
>Freya shrugged, sending her ample breasts swaying in the torchlight.
This is some quality reading right here!

Joking aside, I really do like your stuff. And more family info is always nice to read.
And I'm done for the night. I have a ton more, the Liberation Fleet has still to arrive and the epic battle scenes are yet to be posted.

SE and DM will be back in the morning, keep her bumped for them. In the meantime, what do you think of our stories? All Writefags love feedback.
And I'd like a Drawfag to do something for my story. Road Trip has 2 drawfaggings already with a third on the way. Can someone do me one please?
No, does it need to be? I read this stuff because I like to read it and I'm glad we have writefags willing to put in a lot of work into this.
>“I think I will speak to them directly.”
Incoming pants shittan
>He was distantly satisfied
What a dick!
>Freya walked up beside him, begrudgingly tolerating his ruffling her hair.
Dat mental image of a pouting Freya.
bumping in preperation for isis rage AA
Not Inquisition per say but the Bleeding Out equivalent. Wasn't Curze the head of the CIA?
bump for the bump god!
No, he's just sort of....that one terrifying guy you bump into at the office when you fuck up one too many times and the Emperor wants you back line. That, and he commands one of the Compliance fleets.
Alright. will work around it.
As she recounted the tale, tastefully omitting the details of Remilia’s newfound love, she slid into full storyteller mode, relishing the opportunity to pass it along. They sat down in two massive chairs before the small gas fireplace in one wall and started it as she continued. As she reached the end, she faltered a bit when describing her companions’ mounting boredom and their experiences with the krakenspawn. Russ didn’t interrupt except for small questions and requests for clarification, until at last she wrapped up with the poker game he had interrupted.
“‘Busy’ doesn’t begin to describe it, eh?” Russ said, his eyes glimmering in the firelight.
“Not at all,” Freya said.
Russ smiled. “Good. I’m glad. Tell me more of this spat between Alex and his father, if you would,” he said, pouring himself a glass of something that smelled overwhelmingly strong.
Freya waved off a cup. “Well, his father’s a prideful and cowardly man, at heart, but smart,” she said, disgusted. “So when he told Alex in public rather than in private that he was forcing him to choose, he was backing his son into a corner.”
“Revolting,” Russ murmured. “What did you do?”
“I told him that I would have his Warrant revoked if he had done what Alex was afraid of him doing,” Freya said bluntly.
Russ’ head jerked around. “You did WHAT?”
“You heard me,” she muttered, but it wasn’t defiance so much as lingering bitterness in her voice. “Worthless corpsemerchant would deserve it too.”
“That is not the point,” Russ said, a tone of pure ice sliding into his voice like the edge of a knife. Freya flinched. “You do not have the authority to revoke a Warrant unless I give it to you. Which I won’t. I have made my stance on empty threats clear,” he said darkly.
“Forgive me, father,” Freya sighed, her head drooping in contrition. “I will try not to let my emotions get in the way.”
“Of course not, Freya,” Russ said, his anger melting away. How did she bloody do that? “But the decision was Venus’ to make anyway.”
“I understand she later threatened him with imprisonment if he stayed in Nocturne’s system without approval, or followed us to Fenris,” Freya said quietly. “I wasn’t there.”
Russ looked back to the flame. “What did Alex do?”
Freya closed her eyes and felt tears build. “He…stormed out, flew back to the castle. He raved, called his father a worthless monster…called himself…” she hesitated as her voice tightened. “…I won’t say it, that wasn’t even for my ears.”
Russ glanced back at her. Her sense was one of regret, remorse…even self-doubt. “He wept, father, felt so abandoned…he was hurting so much. I asked him what I could do to mend the hurt…offered him everything I could think of…my hearing, my…self. Nothing. He just…he is so alone now. His father drove his mother off before this happened, and now all he has is me.” She looked up at her father, her eyes glistening with tears. “He was hurting so much, and so I was too. Does it feel like that for normal people?”
Russ sighed heavily, remembering the state Gairwyn had been in upon her mother’s diagnosis of brain cancer. “Some people. Good people. There is…nothing wrong with emotion, little pup, nothing at all. It is simply not useful sometimes. Basic empathy is…not always something we of the Vlka should feel. But when someone that close to you is hurt, I think humans feel it as close as we do. I don’t think they react the same way, every time, though. Your mother is a passionate and emotional woman, too, and she does not bear our gifts.”
Freya smiled sadly at the thought of her mother. “Is she not here?”
“She did not wish to be. Things are…not well on Terra. You will see. She is in no danger, of course, but the riots, and her mother’s health…” he trailed off. “She did not wish to travel.”
“Riots?” Freya asked.
“A smuggling ring in Hive Nondemus took an Arbites courthouse out with it when the local law came knocking,” Russ said. “But back to the matter at hand. As much as I don’t like to see you suffer, I want to know how much this incident has affected your own plans,” he said. “Clearly you have already changed your college for him.”
Freya shook her head. “What of it?”
“Freya, is this boy worth twisting your career for him?” Russ asked.
His daughter glared up at him, her sadness turning to anger. “What career, father? Do tell. What is my future? Have we decided?”
Russ lowered his head a bit to meet her angry glare. “Freya, please. It’s an honest question.”
“So was mine,” she said darkly. “I will live eternally, and he won’t. Why not spend time with him while he’s here?”
Russ nearly bared his fangs in anger before checking himself. “Do not be so cavalier,” he said instead.
“Why do you not like him, father? This isn’t the first time you’ve said that,” Freya pointed out coolly. “That exact word, regarding my reasoned decision to stay with him. ‘Cavalier.’”
Russ grimaced. “Freya, you know full well that I chose for my people to remain in the mires of war. That they might elevate themselves through the brutal meritocracy of conflict, so that those with the mettle of a Space Marine might be seen without extensive trails beforehand. I do not want…no matter how happy he makes you…for you to find yourself with someone who lacks the strength to serve as my heir, in battle as well as politics.”
Freya fell silent. Russ stared into the flames for a moment longer before turning to her. He blinked. Freya’s face was twisted in revulsion. “Oh…father…how cruel,” she said, her voice bitter. “How pointlessly cruel.”
“Cruel?” Russ asked.
“Alex is not a Space Marine candidate! We’re not even TALKING about marriage, let alone him serving as your heir!” she insisted. “How…WHY would you judge him by a such a lofty criterion when he’s not even old enough to consider them?”
“Because time flies, Freya,” Russ said shortly.
“And besides, I didn’t ask why you don’t want me to marry him,” Freya said in the same tone. “I’m asking why you don’t LIKE him. You treat random friends of mine from school, and Jake and your nieces, better than you treat him. Hell, you wouldn’t even shake his hand if I didn’t ask you to.”
Russ grunted. “Fine. I don’t like him because you two started having sex before you were even done growing, because he frankly seems to lack spine, and because I think he has entitlement issues.”
Freya gaped. “Well, Dad, I can’t speak to the third, since he’s certainly never acted that way around me, but as for the first: my senses are as sharp as yours, and I’ve had to listen to, and smell, everything you and Mom have done behind closed doors since I was born.”
Russ shuddered. “Fair enough.”
By the way, please feel free to respond between posts. We don't mind at all, and it keeps the thread afloat.
Why are you stopping!? Need moar developments!
“And if he seems spineless around you, ask yourself this: have you ever tried to NOT intimidate him?” she asked sharply. “I mean, the first thing you did when you met him was bare your teeth. I had to grab your hands and bring them together before you would shake.”
“He smelled like you, Freya, at fifteen. His voice hadn’t even broken! How well was I supposed to take that?” he asked. “Believe it or not, I love you, and I didn’t want you to give yourself to someone at that age, certainly not before I met him.”
“Look, my history with him aside, he’s seventeen bloody years old and already lost a parent to an act of senseless cruelty, that is, forcing him to choose between family and personal choice,” Freya said in a voice that could have melted glacial ice. “How is your behaving so poorly around him different? Because you making me feel that you distrust me and making him feel unwanted isn’t doing anyone favors.”
Russ’ head snapped around to glare daggers at his daughter, but the bite of truth in her words blunted his anger again. “If you wish to know how I feel he is self-entitled, at least, answer me this. When he walks into a stranger’s home and puts his feet on the furniture, does he even slow to think of it? When he costs himself or others money and time in an act of carelessness, does he apologize with words or action?”
“I don’t know, Dad, because I’ve never seen him act so careless,” Freya said. “You’re really reaching, here.”
“Freya, he acts like you were something he deserved because of his station and power, and treats you as such,” Russ said angrily.
“His station and power cost him his family.” Freya stood. “Come with me.”
“Come with me. Let me show you just how wrong you are,” she said. Her eyes narrowed to green slits in the firelight. “He has not acted like that…not once that I can remember in over a year. You are objecting to my relationship with a man who doesn’t exist.”
Russ stayed in his seat, staring at his daughter. “I’m not blind, Freya. He has the arrogance of the born privileged in him. Whether it’s a part of your everyday interactions or something he mostly keeps in check, I don’t know, and it barely matters. It’s there.”
Freya leaned forward, and now she DID bare her teeth. “I don’t judge you when your hands come home smelling of the blood of aliens and traitors,” she whispered. “I trust you and respect you all the same. Can you not respect and trust me when I choose a partner I feel would rather die than harm me?”
Russ was quiet for a long moment. At length, Freya turned and walked out, knowing full well her father would follow. After finishing the glass he had poured, Russ tiredly rose to his feet. “Horus and Lorgar don’t have to deal with this, oh no, their daughters are dating boys who’ve sworn themselves to abstinence,” he grumbled as he followed his daughter to the lifts. “Julius Pius and Pietro Gallagher at least don’t think with their dicks.”
This thread is still going,so fuck yeah!
>their daughters are dating boys who’ve sworn themselves to abstinence
Well, I kinda meant that as a joke. If you've been reading Trip Into Hell, at least, you know that at times, Julius at least very much does think with his dick.

Pietro, I dunno, but I bet Faith will put out like a broken gumball machine when she's off at college. At least until she figures out that it's a little self-degrading.
Below, Alex was sprawled over Jake’s bed, listening to Jake tell stories about his old job. “Now, I don’t blame him. His health was pretty bad. But seriously, leaving me to go deal with customers we caught shoplifting while he vanished into the back room?” Jake asked. “Ugh.”
“Did that happen often?” Alex asked.
“Not as often as you’d think, given the local crime rate, but it was still pretty often. Most of the time, we’d just let it slide, or take a picture of the thief and put it behind the counter with the big red word THIEF over it,” Jake said, scrawling on an invisible picture. “Worked pretty well, but a few times it got violent. We got robbed at gunpoint once, though I wasn’t there when that happened.”
“Well…none of that at Kouthry,” Venus said. She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I wonder if I should get a job on campus. Just as an office clerk or something.”
“I’m sure you could, if only to seriously fuck with the heads of visiting people,” Remilia chuckled. Venus laughed.
“Yeah, that would confuse the hell out of people. Walk into the bursar’s office and there’s a Primarch behind the desk,” she said.
“Make people wonder just how high the tuition is,” Jake said, “that Lord Vulkan’s daughter has to work in the bursar’s office.”
>If you've been reading Trip Into Hell
Which story does she feature in?
>will put out like a broken gumball machine when she's off at college.
This is relevant to my fetishes.
Also relevant.
Faith isn't really a major part of any story, but she has some screentime in Bleeding Out.
A knock on the door announced Freya’s return. “Hey, guys, Dad and I are gonna discuss what we’re going to do tomorrow,” she said, ducking in and sitting on the bedside.
Jake shrugged. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.
Russ himself entered in his daughter’s wake. “I would be quite honored to show you all one of the islands we use as a field camp,” he said, pausing in the doorframe. He hid a smile at the boys’ surprise. “I can promise no kraken, at least.”
His senses so attuned, he did indeed sense some of the anxiety from Alex that Freya had suggested. He made a visible effort to appear more relaxed, leaning sideways on the doorframe and crossing his arms, and while Venus’ lad, Jacob, merely sat back down, Carlin instead deliberately crossed over to where Freya was sitting and sat beside her. Almost like he was afraid Russ would take Freya away or something. Interesting.
“Well, that’ll be an improvement,” Venus said, oblivious.
“I’d love to go, if we won’t be intruding, your Highness,” Jake said. He tilted his head towards the planet, far below. “Personally, I’ve found Fenris’ weather amazing so far. Actual snow. I never thought I’d live to see it.”
Russ allowed a small chuckle to pass his lips. “I suppose to a hiver it would be more memorable than more or less anything else. I think you’d like the island we’re visiting, though, it’s quite…what’s the phrase? Picturesque.”
Jake smiled nervously. “Sounds like fun. What time should we leave, your Highness?”
“Say 0900. I have a few administrative concerns to attend to.” Russ straightened up. “Am I to understand that you’ve availed yourselves of the firing range in the base of the Fang since you arrived?”
“Several times,” Remilia said. “Should we not be doing that, Uncle Leman?”
“Far to the contrary, I approve. Help yourselves,” Russ said with a nod. “I’ve always hoped you and your cousins would understand the importance of maintenance of martial skill, given your…lineage. You can visit it any time you wish.”
“Cool, thanks.” Remilia stood. “Don’t suppose we could convince you to stick around long enough to join our poker game tonight?” she asked with a coy grin.
Russ laughed. “I’d love to, but my duty calls me to the consecration ceremony of our new Quicksilver frigate tonight. Perhaps if you have a few spare hours nearer to the end of your stay, I would take you up on it, but for the time being…”
“Shame. Oh well.” Remilia offered her uncle a quick hug before vanishing into her own room to use the bathroom. The others moved over to the table in the corner of the room as Jake broke out the chip sets. Russ jerked his head out to the lifts and Freya nodded, rising to follow.
As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, Freya glared at him. “See? You make him so nervous that he didn’t say a word. And he’s been a perfect guest since he arrived, even when he had just arrived.”
“Very well,” Russ conceded. “I suppose he did, at least, show Bjorn due respect when he met him, from what he tells me.”
“He was outright reverent. Give him a chance, father. We won’t disappoint.”
“You never disappoint me, Freya,” Russ said.
“Neither will he. Trust me.” She turned back to the room and walked off.
Russ shook his head and tapped the call button for the lift. As he did, he heard Alex approach him from his apartment, hesitation filling his steps but not slowing them. Russ glanced back over his shoulder as Alex halted behind him.
“Lord Primarch Russ…may I ask you something?” Alex inquired nervously.
Russ nodded.
The stocky rugby player sighed. “Look…I know you don’t like me, Freya didn’t need to say it. And…yeah, I was…kind of a dick when we first met,” Alex admitted. Russ snorted. “But we both love Freya very much, and she helped me through losing not one, but BOTH parents. So even if you think we can’t or shouldn’t be friends…can’t we at least not be enemies?” he asked.
Russ held the door of the lift open, and turned to glare at the boy. “If you were an enemy of mine, Alex Carlin, believe me, you would be acutely aware of it. That said…I suppose you right about one thing. Freya’s happiness is paramount to me. And though I don’t think you have her best interests at heart, your willingness to level with me and delay your own future plans for her sake speak greatly in your favor.”
“And I make her happy,” Alex said, stifling his annoyance.
Russ stared down at him before finally nodding. “You do. So very well. If you wish to start over with me, fine.”
“Good.” Alex nodded, sighing heavily. “Good.” He started to stick out his hand, but the door was already closing behind the Primarch. Alex shrugged and plodded back to the room.
Freya was waiting for him. “Did it work?” she asked.
“I think so,” Alex said, sitting down at the table as Jake poured them all water. “I think he would just prefer that you only dated Fenrisians.”
“Probably, but Fenris is one of exactly TWO Space Marine Legionary homeworlds that doesn’t have Imperial standard education and awareness of the greater galaxy, so I would have a pretty damn narrow range of options,” Freya said. “Besides, he sent me to a Terran school. How did he think it would end?” She kissed him on the cheek as Venus passed out the chips. “Trust me, I won’t hold his lack of foresight against you,” she said slyly.
He smiled, squeezing her thigh under the table. “Thanks, babe,” he said.
All right, folks, I'm signing off for now, until either Ahriman or Darkmage get back.
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Thank you for your contribution citizen
I'm back.

The last task for Furia was possibly the hardest for her. Not because she expected a stubborn wall, a fight or a risky conversation. It was because it would cause her as much pain as she was about to inflict.
School had long since ended and summer had also gone by. Furia had passed her classes and easily got into Kourtney, so phase one and two of the plan were complete without any problems. Phase three was only two weeks away, as she would be leaving with Isis to get to the college grounds early and check the place out before the actual semester started. Unlike her, Isis was actually going to be attending her courses, so she needed to prepare.
All this did for Furia was give her less time. But the truth was she was delaying it long enough over the past couple months. Simon needed to know what she was doing. She had prepared herself for days, asking Isis to check her clothes for bugs in case the Treasury was still looking out for her. As her cousin found none, she guessed they had finally begun to believe that she had changed.
So on that fair Sunday morning, months after she had nearly killed someone, Furia drove into the Henderson’s driveway and parked her car. She sat behind the wheel for several minutes, trying to control her emotions as she began to figure out the best way to tell Simon the bad news. She had been trying to plan this day for a while now, but couldn’t come up with a way to tell him that she was going away.
Finally growing tired of sitting around and doing nothing, she opened the door and stepped out. It was a near shock to her to see Simon at his door, coming outside at the same time. They looked at each other and he smiled at her. “I was wondering if you were going to come in,” he said as he approached the redhead.
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>I'm back.
Fuck yeah!
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Fuck yes primarchs daughters!
She nodded, her face blank as she tried to control herself. “Yeah, just have a lot on my mind, that's all.”
“Me too, “ he started, seemingly pleased. “I figured out there’s a regular transport between New Cyprine and Kourtney, so we can visit each other while we are studying.”
Her heart sank as she took deep breaths. Simon noticed her sudden change in behavior and put a hand on her arm. “You alright?” he asked her.
“No, Simon. I’m feeling like shit really,” she answered, not sure how to tell him.
“Want to come inside? Is it the pills again?” he asked her, very concerned as always.
She had never felt as horrible as she did right now. She could feel her muscles clench, her heart beating quickly, her breaths ragged in general. The tension grew until it finally snapped.
“I’m going away,” she spat out. She gasped for air as she stared at Simon.
He looked at her, clearly surprised by that statement. “Yeah, you are going to Kourtney. I know,” he told her, unsure of what she meant.
“No, I'm not. Well I will be, but not for long.” She was confusing herself as she grabbed her hair and shook her head. Letting go she grabbed him and held him with both her arms. “I’m going to run away once I get to Kourtney. I'm leaving Terra.”
Simon stared at her blankly as it fell upon him. He said nothing as Furia continued. “I can’t stay here anymore. The pills are going to end me, and I am not ready to give up that easily. Not without a fight.”
“So you are going to run away from your problems?” Simon blurted out. He sounded a bit angry, a part of him Furia had never seen.
“I can't stay here. I can't live this fake life,” she answered him.
He shook his head. “I can't believe you are saying this. Furia, this is a bad idea. No, this is stupid. You are going to get caught immediately. You think they’re gonna let someone like you get away with this?”
“I’d rather try than become a zombie, Simon. Even if it fails and I end up in a prison, I’d rather try.” She used her sterner voice, trying to show him she wasn’t about to back down.
“Damn it Furia! Why! Why can’t you just wait to see if it will just get better? Why won’t you wait?” She began to grind her teeth as he continued. “They can make this better. Maybe you should just ask to take a break, look for a better solution. Why do you want to be so drastic?!”
A second later, she yelled at the top of her lungs, a voice she hadn’t used in a long time.
“Cause I don’t want to fucking hurt you anymore!”
Simon seemed stunned as he stared at her. His legs gave away as he sat down on his driveway, clearly not able to stand at the moment. She slipped down beside him and hugged him, holding him close to her.
“Listen, alright,” she whispered quietly into his ear, whimpering herself. “You don’t wait for me anymore. You go on with your own life. You find someone normal and without shitty problems. You live your life without me Simon, cause I might never come back, okay?”
He didn’t say anything to her as he just sat there. She kissed him on the cheek and stood back up, feeling very ill. Backing to her car door, she fumbled with the handle, her hands unable to coordinate with her under the stress. Tears streamed down her face as she couldn’t handle it anymore.
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From beside her, a steady hand grabbed her wrist. She turned and saw Simon up behind her, staring. Tears flowed from his eyes but he did not whimper. His face was steady as he looked at her.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful, alright?”
She nodded, knowing there was no way for her to be sure of such a fact. But she was going to try her best to stay out of trouble, for him at least.
She opened the door and slipped inside her car. Looked at her window, Simon had backed off and waved goodbye, clearly shaken from the entire conversation. She waved back as she lifted off from the driveway.
It was the last time Furia would see Simon before she left.
The last two weeks passed before her trip passed quickly. Before she knew it, Furia sat on a transport ship bound for Kourtney college. The school was exactly as she imagined it to be: dull, boring and filled with rich snobby kids. The same as Imperator, only for higher education. Isis was nearly jumping with joy at the possibilities ahead of her while Furia looked on, clearly not displeased with her choice of running away.
She had somehow been accepted into the physiotherapy department. The irony of the situation was not lost on her, as she was someone more likely to cause of injuries than to help them heal. It didn’t matter, since her classes were a week away and she was planning on leaving way before then.
Just as she expected, they weren’t exactly alone. The Treasury had come along, teaching them on how to react if there was a security breach and new plans of actions in case of emergencies. In fact, the day she had chosen to leave was the exact day that the Treasury was out in force, swarming the school in preparation of the semester. With these many bodyguards around, the plan was more likely to fail than ever before. It was so crazy it had to work, just because it would become the most embarrassing situation for the Treasury since the Morticia shooting.
“Where’s Isis?” the Treasury officer beside her asked as they walked to the nearby dorm rooms. Furia shrugged, clearly not pleased with having an officer on her back.
“I don’t know John. Do I look like her fucking mother?” she spat at him.
He shook his head. “No ma’am. It’s Jim, by the way.”
She didn’t care what his name was as they arrived to the female dorm, clearly titled on the entrance. They stood at the door as Furia turned to him. “Lemme go check if she is in the room, alright?”
“I’ll come with you, Lady Furia. We have to hurry for the next scheduled meeting.”
“You are going to follow me into the female dorm?” Furia asked him, clearly surprised by his devotion to his duty.
Without skipping a beat, he nodded. “Lead the way ma’am.”
Furia groaned as she opened the door, leading the male officer inside. Every girl they passed looked at them strangely, realizing a moment later who the redhead was. Furia could only grumble harder until they arrived at her room. Opening the door, it was clearly empty. “Guess she ain’t here,” Furia muttered, walking inside.
“Ma’am?” the officer asked behind her.
“I got to take a piss. Stay out here, understood?”
>“I got to take a piss.”
>“Lead the way ma’am.”
I laughed.
The man nodded as Furia closed the door behind her. As time went by, Jim began to feel the heat of his situation as he suddenly realized how many young girls were walking by. He wondered if following Furia into the complex was the right choice. His relief came when Isis came down the hallway to the distressed officer. “Ma’am, I am so happy to see you,” he announced to her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him sternly, clearly not pleased with his presence in such an area.
“Lady Furia is inside for over ten minutes now. She said she had to use the bathroom.”
Isis sighed as she moved to the door and opened it. “I’ll take a look.” She disappeared inside, leaving the door half open. A couple seconds later, Jim heard a loud thump behind the door. His training kicked in as he suddenly felt like something very wrong was happening. Without any hesitation, he walked in immediately, wondering what was taking so long with the two girls. He was so busy trying to figure out what was the proper procedure in an emergency that he didn’t notice an angry fist towards him.
With a solid hit, the man was knocked out instantaneously and fell to the floor, landing hard on his face. Furia seethed above him, grinded her teeth in victory. “That’s what you get!” she growled at the unconscious guard as she towered over him.
Isis moved quickly to close the door, hoping not to gather any more attention from the hallway. “You really need to learn to be more discreet,” she told her, but knew it fell on deaf ears.
“Fuck that,” Furia replied to her, smiling devilishly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months now. Damn it feels good to be back to normal.” Ever since she had left Hive Tetra, Furia had stopped taking the pills, having ditched them on the transport over. She was clean for nearly three days now could feel the changes, knowing that she wasn’t at her full potential yet.
Along with her focus came her anger. Furia was raging like never before, a constant stream of adrenaline pumping through her veins. It was as if she had built a dam against such sensations for a while now and it suddenly burst outwards. Now was the time to act.
“You take care of him. I got to prepare.” Before Isis could ask what she meant, Furia disappeared into the bathroom. The black haired cousin knelt down beside the large man. Grabbing a vial in her pocket, she dabbed some on a handkerchief and put it over the man's mouth. The drug would knock him out for a good half hour, leaving them to continue on without him intervening.
Standing up, she heard some buzzing from the bathroom and wondered what Furia was doing inside. She noted a small bag nearby and figured it was something her red headed cousin had prepared for the trip. It was small enough that Isis began to wonder if Furia had indeed collected everything she needed.
The buzzing ended a couple minutes later, making Isis turn to the door. As Furia appeared out of the bathroom, she realized what her cousin had done. She could only stare in surprised at her cousins sudden change.
“Your hair...” she whispered. Furia had shaved off all of her red hair, leaving her with a smooth skull.
“You like it? Cause I sure do.” She brushed her hand over her clean head. “Not sure why I haven't done this before. It feels so strange, but I like it.”
“Okay, that’s not a bad idea, but you are going to need to do more than that. Once they see all the hair in the bathroom, they will figure out you are bald.”
“Got it covered Icy,” she said as she opened her bag and dug inside. A second later, Furia produced a fake blond wig and put it on her head. “Am I pretty like Victoria now?”
“Hardly,” Isis replied. “But it’s a start.”
“Yeah, I’ll be using this after to throw them off my scent. I also got one more disguise for later, not here.” She put the wig away and nodded at her taller cousin. “Thanks Isis. For everything.”
“Yeah, well don't fuck up. I put a lot of work into this.”
Furia grinned at her. “I know, that's why I got you a present.” She took off her leather jacket and handed it to her. “Keep this safe, alright?”
Isis gingerly picked up the heavy piece of clothing and nodded. As roughed up as it was, Isis realized how much the jacket was like Furia. Outwardly rough, but alright on the inside. She wasn't going to let anything happen to the piece of clothing. “Yeah, don't worry about that. You got everything you need?” Isis pointed to the bag by the wall. Furia picked it up with one hand and nodded.
“Yeah. Just the essentials, you know? Don’t need to travel with a lot of stuff. Also, some cash to survive for a bit. Untraceable, just like you said.”
“That’s good. Speaking of which, here,” Isis reached into her pocket and produced a set of papers. “The ticket for the trip out, bought with your new name and the fake identification papers that you need to get around. Totally valid for where everywhere that matters, and anywhere else... you got your fists for that.”
Furia chuckled at that as she put the papers in one of her pockets. They paused, realizing there wasn't much else to say. They were nearing the end of their time together as Furia had to leave soon. “How long will the drug last?”
“A half hour, maybe more. Not sure in the end.”
“Good. I need you to do something for me.”
Isis looked at her cousin and nodded. “Anything.”
“Keep track of Simon, just so he doesn’t do anything stupid, alright?” Secretly, Furia was worried that her actions might have thrown him into a depression, and she was worried that she would return one day to find out he killed himself.
Isis nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to keep tabs on him. You should be more worried about yourself.”
Furia grinned. “Bah, I’ll be fine,” she boasted.
“You better. Cause if you one day end up coming back in a coffin, I’ll...” Isis paused, her voice cracking at the end. She spoke softly as she continued. “I’ll never forgive myself Furia.”
Furia stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on her cousin’s shoulder. She knew that it was tough for her cousin to be helping her with everything else going on. With Morticia recently being shot, Julius having gone through a war and the possibility of Furia ending up getting killed herself, she was doing pretty good holding herself together in public. Still, Furia knew how hard it must be for Isis to be helping the redhead.
“I’m coming back,” Furia stated firmly. She was beginning to believe it herself.
Isis nodded firmly a moment later, back in control of her emotions. “So what’s next?” she asked her, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath, holding back the tears.
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I'm not sure what I feel about Furia being bal-
>“So what’s next?”
>“I got to take a piss.”
>“Lead the wa-"
“Well, for one I am sorry.” Isis was about to ask for what, but as she opened her mouth she got face full of her own handkerchief. It took a moment for the drug to take effect, but just like the guard she toppled over. Furia immediately grabbed her carefully as she slumped into her arms, dragging her to the nearby couch and laying her down. She looked down at Isis and sighed. “Sorry,” she muttered.
She reached into her bag and opened it. Inside, she took out a single envelope. It was for her father. Laying it on her sleeping cousin, she backed off and clenched her teeth. She left an instant later, no longer any doubt or hesitation in her mind.


The school was busy, even if the semester hadn't started yet. Plenty of new and old students were walking around the campus, enjoying the sights of the coming year.
On a nearby rooftop however, a Treasury sniping team laid in surveillance, watching over the sprawling grounds with keen vision. A half dozen in total, the snipers were elite marksman, trained to look after the daughters with their expert capabilities, or their lives if it came down to it.
“Still no sign of them. They're late,” the team’s captain said over the intercom, clearly displeased with the situation.
With the sun beating down on them, they waited patiently for the escort and the two daughters to emerge from the dorm. All the guards looked over the crowds carefully, making sure that there wouldn't be a repeat of the Morticia Incident. Many protocols had changed since then, and the Treasury wasn’t ready for another horrible incident so soon after another.
Corporal Filam was watching the east wing of the dorm, the other entrance of the building for any suspicious activity. It was hard, as all he could see was beautiful young woman going in and out of the large structure. Filam brushed over their faces quickly, but it was difficult for him to not stop and admire each and everyone one.
For example, one with a hoodie on just came out of the entrance. He zoomed in carefully, getting a quick look of the girl face, hidden under the hood of her clothes. She looked amazing because of her striking features. A part of him thought he had seen someone like her. Most probably in his dreams. He looked over the fine curves of the girl for a moment longer, remarking that she had an amazing body.
“Corporal!” screamed a voice in his ear. “Last I checked, we are paying you to watch over Royalty, not the locals! Get back to work!”
“Yes sir!” Filam responded to his captain, zooming back out and looking for new targets.


Furia didn’t have a tough time getting to the starport. There was a public transit system that ran continuously all day between the school and the port, so it was easy enough for her to get there. The monorail was exceptionally quick and always on time, so she arrived within a few minutes to her destination: the departures lounge.
This section, like the dozen like it, was enormous yet highly organized. There was over two dozen levels, each with several landing pads for shuttles to take passengers to their ship. Every level had shuttles meant for one or two ships in orbit, so it was all a matter of what level she needed to be on.
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oh I know what I think
However, it was time to change her disguise a bit. Finding a bathroom nearby, she slipped inside. She made sure that the room was empty before going to work. She didn’t mind having people around, but all it would do was cause more commotion than she wanted.
Locking the door from the inside, she breathed deeply in front of the mirror. With a quick motion, she punched herself in the face. The force of the attack sent her backwards into a stall as she struggled to stay up. Shaking the dizziness away, she got back to her spot and repeated the action.
After several more tries, she had successfully bruised her face to the point where it would be difficult to recognize her in general. Grabbing the blond wig from her bag, she put it on and adjusted it to look as roughed up as she did. The effect was good enough for the moment, as this would delay finding her for even longer.
She unlocked the door and waited inside. The flow of traffic resumed as people came and went for the next couple of minutes. Some paused to look but didn’t bother her with the angry stare she was giving them. After several minutes, she felt enough traffic had passed to make it difficult to pinpoint her on the cameras. Washing the blood away from her face, she walked out with the wig on, slipping back into the crowd easy enough. People were so much in a hurry that most didn’t even notice her bruised face.
She grabbed the tickets that Isis gave her from her pocket and figured out where she needed to go. She was thankfully in the right departure tower and had to only go up to the seventh level to arrive at the transports. Walking up to one of the many gates on that floor, she waited in line for several minutes before it was her turn.
The man behind the counter looked up and noticed her bloody face, suddenly very worried. “You alright?” he asked her.
She nodded, sniffling slightly. “Just got into a fight with my boyfriend.” The thought of Simon hitting her crossed her mind and she had to try her best from laughing in front of the man.
“Maybe you should go to the infirmary,” the man suggested.
She shook her head. “No. I want to get back home as soon as possible. I just want to get away.”
The man sighed and nodded. “Alright, can I have your identification?” he asked.
Digging into her pocket, she took out the fake ID card that her cousin had given her and handed it over the solid metal counter. The man grabbed it and looked at the picture, then back at her. “You dye your hair often, Miss... Kate Gunnar?”
Furia froze for a second and nodded. “All the time. I like looking different every couple months.”
The man nodded slowly, as he tapped away at his computer. A couple seconds later, he handed back the card and the ticket and nodded. “Have a safe trip Ms. Gunnar.”
She smiled as she walked past, quickly looking at the identification card when out of view. She hadn’t even taken a gander at it when Isis had handed it over. The picture was based of her, but different in the end.
Isis had clearly changed the image a bit, taking away some of her striking features and blending them down to normal. She actually looked a bit average. The guard couldn’t note the features as they were currently bloody and bruised, so she got away for now. Her hair was still there, which Isis could not have foreseen her shaving off. Furia liked the name that her cousin had given her. Kate Gunnar. It fit her quite well.
Walking into the transport, she took a seat and relaxed for a moment. So far so good
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Her future husbando?
She arrived unto the ship soon after. The Moralis was an old transport vessel, made during the end days of the crusade to bring troops back home after years of fighting. Now it was used for smaller jumps, such as taking vacationing civilians from the galactic center to new worlds. Hopefully, from there Furia could continue her journey before they came looking for her.
She was assigned a cabin, a very small room that she had to share with three other people on the week long trip. Furia didn’t care, as long as she was going to get to her destination eventually. There was still a chance of failure remaining.
Looking at the time, quick calculations told her that Isis and Jim had woken up for over ten minutes and the search was probably on. There would be the initial confusion, where the nearby guards would wonder what had gone wrong and then realize that Furia has disappeared. A few more minutes where all the Treasury guards had been notified of the event and quickly begin searching the school grounds.
Video records would be examined in the meantime and a quick search of the room would tell them she had shaved her head with all the red hair in the bathroom. They would be able to follow the trail of cameras all the way to the starport. It would take them much longer to search through the crowds and follow her from there, especially with the new disguise she had from her trip to the bathroom.
Furia could only hope that it was enough to keep them busy for an hour. The vessel was supposed to leave at 1:00 PM sharp.
Making her way around the ship, she eventually arrived to one of the cafeteria’s on board. Here, many of the passengers seemed to have gathered to wait patiently for the ship to be off. She sat down on a table alone, burying her face patiently as she watched time go by on her watch.
All the doubt she had been holding back for months now resurfaced, as she suddenly began to worry about what was about to happen. She had figured to be caught soon enough, as the plan on the whole seemed crazy to begin with. Every person that walked by made her heart race faster. All she could think about was her father walking up with an angry look on his face, fists clenched in rage at her disobedience. She knew that if she was caught, it would be all over for her.
She was so caught up in her fears that she didn’t even notice the warp drives come to life. The hull of the ship shook briefly as an announcement came through the intercoms. It wasn’t until the shipped jumped that she realized what had just happened.
She was free.


“Where the fuck is my daughter?!”
The booming voice of Angron was deafening to the guards, and only two people nearby managed to keep their hearing. One was Isis, still a bit woozy from the drugs. She stood nearby and shook her head, feeling worse after hearing Angron yelling.
The other stood beside Isis, holding her with one large arm. Isis didn’t look up to her father. She could feel Horus staring at her, knowing that she had something to do with Furia’s disappearance.
It was 2 pm in the afternoon, nearly two hours after the royal member had disappeared. The two Primarchs had arrived only minutes beforehand from the hive. Horus remained as relatively calm, but Angron was swelling with rage as he shouted at the head Treasury officer in the area.
>She was assigned a cabin, a very small room that she had to share with three other people on the week long trip.
Oh boy...
Its likely she wouldn't even be in the room for most of the trip. With her sleep schedule and sheer anger, she would rather roam the hallways then be stuck with three other people.
The poor man struggled to keep himself steady against the raging beast that was Angron. “We are searching as quickly as possible sir. She couldn’t have gone far.”
Horus whispered into her ear carefully. “What happened here?” he asked her.
“I came into the room and Furia ambushed and drugged me. The guard probably came running in right after hearing me fall and he was drugged too. I woke up a half hour later to find my cousin gone.” Looking down at her hands, Isis held the envelope and sighed. “I had this on me when I woke up. It is for you, uncle.”
Angron turned around and noted Isis holding up the small envelope. Walking over, he picked it up with one hand and somehow managed to rip it open without destroying its contents, even with his large hands.
Opening the letter inside, he quickly read it over, his eyes darting back and forth over the small text. His eyes widened at the end as he dropped his arms around him.
“No,” he muttered weakly, a sudden expression of defeat on his face. Isis had never seen him like this. Walking past the group of people, he gave her father the letter as he made his way back to the transport, seemingly uncaring of the current situation at all.
Horus looked over the letter and sighed, handing it down to Isis. “Keep searching,” he ordered the guards. Isis read the letter:
“Dear father,
If things have gone according to plan, I am no longer on Terra. Months ago I found out what Xelaratin actually does to someone. I felt trapped in a world that I didn’t feel welcome. You of all people should understand that.
I’m not like the others. If I continued with the pills, I would become something entirely different. I’d hate myself. If I stopped taking the pills, I would probably shame us all and end up fighting the law. I chose the only way out.
Please understand that I don’t blame you for this, even if I feel like I should. This anger stems from you and what you have done, but I can’t blame you for what I do with my life. Maybe in time, I will come to control the fury within me. If not, I will die trying.
Don’t come looking for me.


Thats the end of part one. I`ve start the second part, but I probably won`t be posting that until tomorrow the earliest.
Hope you guys are liking it so far.
And I continue

After finishing the story of Lady Furia with how she was now going to college with Isis, a shocking change if ever there was one, Flynn asked the inevitable question: the shooting. Though it was one topic Julius had been hoping to avoid, he duly obliged, telling them how he had heard of the shooting on the hoverbus omitting that he was returning from religious services at the time, and now he was talking about the meeting they had after visiting Morticia after she had regained consciousness in the bar within the Imperial Palace. He was constantly getting interrupted, but he kind of liked answering all their questions. It hit him that this was the first time he had ever talked about his life on Terra to anyone outside of his immediate circle, to anyone who hadn’t been there with him.

“So anyway, I was talking with Andrew about enlistment…”

“Who?” Flynn interrupted. It was always either Flynn or Scvott. Dyllion was as silent as always, and Summer wore a smile as she sat beside him, keeping him company as he spoke.

“Andrew Hanover. He’s Lady Hana’s companion and my closest and dearest friend outside the daughters. The first time I met him he pestered me endlessly for my father’s autograph and damn near drove me up the wall. My father was and remains his childhood hero and icon.
“We became fast friends after that first misunderstanding, did almost everything together. My first date with Isis was a double date with him and Hana. We signed up together after graduation, he’s going into the Terran Praetors while I’m going to the Imperial Military Academy for four years, and coming out a fully fledged officer ready to serve the Imperium."

“What about the other boyfriends? How do you see them?” Scvott asked.
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>Don’t come looking for me.
>mitt ansikte när

>Hope you guys are liking it so far.
You bet your Canadian ass we do! You manage to tug at my heartstrings, even though they were removed during my triple by-pass surgery.
“What about the other boyfriends? How do you see them?” Scvott asked.

“I’m not close to all of them, as true friends I count only Andrew and Jake Seager. Before you ask, Jake is with Lady Venus and there are few people who are more honest or trustworthy than him. I respect him highly, and hope that he and Lady Venus find happiness together. As for the others, I try to remain on good terms with them. To be honest, some of them see me the same way they see my father and treat me as such. Dad never wanted to be held up as a hero, he’s said many times the real heroes are the ones who never came back, but the people needed a human hero as the crusade dragged on, and it turned out to be him.” Julius sighed. He knew how much his father disliked the way he had been placed upon a pedestal, and when they acted the same way around Julius, he got really mad. “Now, where was I…?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but you’ve grown up alongside them, the Daughters I mean. You are the only person outside the Imperial family who knows them intimately. What are they like, really?” That, surprisingly enough, was Summer. He could sense the hidden meaning in her words; she wanted to know the truth about them. She had a hunger for the truth about those she venerated, even when that truth was not what she’d expected or sometimes wanted.

It was amazing how quickly his story had been sidetracked, but Julius was fine with that. He didn’t really want to tell them about the Petitioner’s City anyway, that was a memory that was still too raw.
“You really want to know? Fine. Isis and Furia I’ve already told you about. Lady Roberta, Lord Guilliman’s daughter is my closest friend amongst the daughters; we’ve known each other ever since I first came to Terra as a toddler. Even after Isis and I became a couple I’ve remained on close terms with her, which came in handy whenever the two have had yet another of their school power struggles and I had to act as the peacemaker.” He chuckled. The relationship between the two of them could only be described as a friendly rivalry. They respected each other immensely, but that didn’t stop them fighting over differences in plans or opinions, and when that happened it was up to Julius to prevent it from blowing out of all proportion.

“If I had to pick one of the daughters to be the sister I never had, it would be Lady Remilia hands down. She’s plucky and stubborn with a genuine smile and a peal of laughter never far from her lips. Only Lady Petra truly dislikes her, and Petra’s a stone-hearted bitch at the best of times. Though to be fair Petra does like my father, she painted that portrait of him he likes so much.”
His voice faltered. “At least, that’s how Remilia used to be. She took the shooting hard, harder than most of us.”
It had been her cutting which had spurred him to try and take action, along with the unprovoked assault on his priest in the backlash that followed the shooting. His father had taught him that the best soldiers were those who could see what others could not, the low ridge that would stop a bullet, the hollow which would provide the perfect place for an ambush, the rough ground which could be hiding mines. His father had that gift in spades, and had passed it on to him. Remilia had tried to hide it, but all the signs were there. The long sleeves, the way Faith had looked at her and how Freya was acting around her, and he had put all the pieces together. He had felt that if he could find a solid answer for why their sheltered lives had come undone, why a fanatic with a gun had gotten so far and done so much damage, it would soothe her damaged soul and she would stop hurting herself and by extension her family. In the end, his actions achieved nothing of the sort, and it had been up to others to help her. He doubted she ever knew that he knew about her cutting, that his actions were in part trying to find answers for her. He swiftly moved on, unwilling to dwell on that topic.

“Lady Faith Aurelian and I share a lot of common interests, a love of Ancient Terran History for one. We were dating for a while, she was my first girlfriend.”

“Isn’t she the religious one? Why would you want to date her?” Scvott said.

Summer caught Julius’s eye and gave him a secret smile. They both knew better. “Don’t judge a book by its cover Scvott, and don’t judge Faith either.” Julius answered. “She may be nosy, bigoted and self-assured, but she is very observant, she can be highly charitable and she has a bright mind. We may have disagreed on certain things, which are what ended our relationship in the end, but I have great respect for her and hope we remain friends.”
“Yeah, yeah, but what about Lord Fulgrim’s daughter? She’s the really attractive one right? At least that’s what I’ve heard.” Flynn interjected. It would be Flynn. He was one of those types who liked to rank the daughters, who was the most attractive and the like. Julius could never see the point in that; they were all equally good, just in different ways. Then again, he did know them all intimately, so he was biased to an extent. He audibly sighed.

“That’s what everyone hears, and it’s true. Lady Victoria is sex, personified. If I had a throne for every time a boy became…stimulated around her, I’d be a lot richer than I am now.”

“What about you? Don’t you find her attractive as well?”

“What? No! I don’t think of her that way; she’s like family to me. That’s just plain wrong.” He wasn’t ignorant of her…’assets’, but her spoilt and haughty attitude always got to him, and no matter how stunning she was on the surface, what lies within is of equal importance. “She’s a big tease, but she’s not nearly as slutty as you or for that matter anyone else would think. Hell, all the daughters are misunderstood. The public think one thing, when I know for a fact that is completely wrong.”

Flynn didn’t appreciate Julius’s sentiment, he scowled that he hadn’t revealed any juicy details of Victoria’s ‘escapades’.
“Lady Khan's a fighter, always will be. She's the only one of them I remember seriously thinking about military service, with the Scars Legion Auxilia of course. She has a short temper, too. We didn’t get on so well when she was younger, I got a fair few hidings from her because I was one of the only ones who were brave or stupid enough to stand against her. The moment Andrew and her started dating though, she became a whole lot nicer to me. I’d like to think we’re on good terms now. Lady Freya’s a bit…wild, and her animal act unnerves me somewhat. That way she looks at me with those fangs and those eyes, it’s like staring into the eyes of a half-tame beast that will savage you as soon as nuzzle you.” He hadn’t stared that feeling with anyone, not even Isis. He felt she would laugh at him if he ever revealed it to her.

“Ladies Angela and Miranda are good friends, but their powers scare me to be honest. Being able to peer into someone and see everything inside them seems a gross violation to me, though both have been nothing but nice ever since I first met them. It’s a matter of taste, and I don’t let it get in the way whenever I’m spending time with them.” It felt liberating, after lying for so long to be utterly honest about his relations felt like a release, and by the way the others were looking at him expectantly, they seemed to like hearing him.

Dyllion finally said something. “You were quite negative towards Lady Morticia when you were being interviewed by the SBC. Is she on your less liked list?”
Julius knew one of them would bring that up, and at last he could try and practise what he would have to say to her personally. “No, I’m as fond of her as any of the others. It’s just that I don’t see her that often, the least of any of the daughters. She’s shut away most of the time. And I was a bit bitter when they were interviewing me. Before I go off to the IMA I’ll have to apologise to her for what I said, before her father kills me.” He was not smiling at that. Lord Mortarion was as grim and humourless as death, and Julius didn’t want him to be angry at him, not at all.

“Now there’s two I think you’d all like, Ladies Farah and Venus. They could almost be twins for their shared love of machines and building things.”

“Isn’t Farah the one with metal hands?” Flynn interjected.

Julius smiled at him. “Yes. You and Farah would get on like a house on fire were you ever to meet, she’s as enthusiastic about engines and machines as you are. I can see you two discussing the Vulcanor 16 Twin-Coupled Multi-Burn engine as enthusiastically as I’d discuss the Ullanor Campaign. My friend Johor has harboured a secret passion for Farah since he first met her; I wish he would damn well man up and tell her how he feels.”

“Johor? That’s not an Imperial name.” Scvott pointed out.

“He’s not Imperial at all, he’s from the Interex. He looks like a Human-Eldar Hybrid, inhumanly handsome but for his bat-like ears. Most judge him based solely on his appearance, but beneath that is as nice a nearly human being as ever existed. Now Lady Venus…”
The sound of heavy boots came up the corridor, instantly shutting Julius up. Professor Ahriman was returning. They all stood up as he barged into the room, his helmet removed. Peering over them, he announced. “The Liberation forces will be landing within as few hours, enough time for me to devise a way of dealing with what you saw. Now tell me all about the Daemon, and what it was doing.”


Ahriman patiently stood there as Julius and the woman, Summer told him about what they saw. His mind turned the revelation over and over in his mind as he pondered the right course of action. He knew the form of the Daemon; it was a servant of the aspect of the Primordial Annihilator called the Great Changer, the one who twisted the strings of fate and meddled with the lives of men. No wonder his future sight had been impaired all these weeks.
When they were finished they watched him anxiously as he stood there, deep in thought. If he hoped to defeat it, he would have to know why it was here, what it wanted. Harvesting souls for its dark master was one possibility, and if so it would flee rather than stand and fight him. But that seemed the most unlikely. Who go to so much effort over such meagre morsels?
Second: it could be trying to manipulate the course of the war so that the Orks win. That would damage the Imperium, and any damage to the Imperium would be a victory for its dark masters. But surely it knew that any Ork victory would be entirely temporary, sooner or later the Imperium would respond and the planet would be liberated or reconquered. Third: it could be trying to summon more of its foul kin to this world. But what would warrant the Daemons unleashing a full scale incursion this far from either the Eye, or the Maelstrom?
Then it hit him.
“Daemon World.”


He’d almost clean forgotten the others were present; such was his intensity of thought. “Seadelant is one of the calmest areas of the entire of the Great Ocean, and is a vital trade hub as well. If this planet were taken from us, it would be a blow. If it were turned into an enemy base, it would be a disaster. And if it were to fall forever from our grasp, and allow the Primordial Annihilator access to material space, Emperor knows how it would end. The Daemon wants to unleash more of its kind, as a first stage to a complete conquest of this planet and it’s transformation into a hellworld, caught between the immaterium and the real universe in perpetual torment.”

Only Julius understood what he meant, and his expression said it all. The others looked from him to Ahriman, dismay clouding their own features as they saw the matching grim expressions coming from Julius and Ahriman.

“That is why it was in the Defence Laser bunker. If it could re-activate the Plasma Reactor using the power of the Great Ocean, it could stabilize a Warp Rift, a way into the material world for all manner of Void Beasts. Once that’s done, nothing short of intervention by the Grey Knights could save Seadelant.” As far as he knew, there were no Grey Knights among the Liberation fleet forces. The Thousand Sons were a close second, but there were only two fellowships, two thousand warriors, not enough to stop an endless tide of Daemons.
“The Daemon has to be destroyed, banished to the darkest depths of the Great Ocean from whence it came before its schemes can come to fruition. The Liberation forces will distract the Orks, and I will sally forth with the Caorst Panxers to the Bunker, and there confront and defeat this Daemon.”
“But what about us? You can’t leave us here!” Julius exclaimed.

“No I can’t. That’s why you’re all coming with me. You know the city better than I do; you’ve lived in it these past few weeks. Just stay behind me, and I’ll make sure nothing gets to you.” Flickers of anger clouded their auras. They had fought alone for weeks, and obviously resented Ahriman’s implications about their ability to fight. He moved to defuse that.

“You have proven yourselves a hundred times over with your actions in the occupied outer city. There will be medals for all of you when the battle is won. I just don’t want you to have fought all this time, and then get yourselves killed at the hour of victory.”

“Professor, ser, you’ve spoken with the Liberation Fleet. Who are coming to liberate us?” Julius was unsure how to address him, and Ahriman sympathised. He wasn’t sure what he was anymore. Was he an academic still, or was he back to being one of the Emperor’s warriors? He would have to search for the answer once this was done.

“Elements of four Legions are inbound even as I speak. The Sons of Horus, my brothers in the Thousand Sons, the Salamanders and Death Guard. Lord Mortarion is leading the Liberation Fleet in person. Not who I expected.” Ahriman carefully kept the distaste out of his voice. Mortarion disliked sorcery, Lord Magnus and the XVth Legion in equal measure, and Ahriman was apprehensive of having to deal with him. Strangely, Julius’ aura flashed with alarm at mention of Mortarion.

“Ser, have you seen the propaganda broadcasts?” he asked. Ahriman shook his head.

“Well, I might have said something in one which could be construed as…insulting, to Morticia. I was a bit bitter at the time, and wasn’t thinking properly, but Lord Mortarion might think otherwise and I don’t want him angry at me.”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, as the Wolves would say. I’ll get you some proper armour and uniforms from the armoury and you can meet me outside once you’re done. Not long now, today the war will be won.”

“God willing.” Julius whispered under his breath. Ahriman let the comment pass and he led them down to the armoury, leaving them there as he headed outside.

The Graf was standing at the doorway, peering up at the sky. She couldn’t see anything, but the hope was there. He wanted to detach his body of light and see the carnage in orbit with his own eyes, but he wouldn’t dare risk it with a Daemon around. It could easily kill his mistflesh, and destroy him before he could fight back.

The moment she heard the clank of Ahriman’s armour, she turned to him.

“Why haven’t you launched? I know salvation is incoming, but we could aid them immensely if we launch now, kill as many of the foe as possible before the legions land.”

“Graf, that is now impossible. The Resistance fighters came with news. There is a Daemon on Seadelant.”

He could see the shock spreading across her face, and felt quietly vindicated. She didn’t know half of what he knew, but she knew enough to know what that could mean.

“I aim to destroy the Daemon myself, and so I will lead the Caorst Panxers into the outer city. The Legion forces will distract the Orks long enough for me to find and kill the Daemon.” His words were an ultimatum. He was leading them forth, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She realised that as soon as he spoke, and the way her shoulders slumped told him she was beat. Daemons were a step too far for her.

>>21013790 I wish some of you would let me know that people are actually reading the mountain of text I'm posting. What do you all think?
“Order the Caorst Panxers to mobilize, and prepare for battle. At long last, we take the fight to the enemy.” He smiled as a bright flash lit up the sky, one of the enemy Orbital Roks being destroyed most likely, but there was a dark feeling within him. The Daemon must know now that he was coming for it, what schemes would it have in place to stop him?


The first faint plasma contrails began to paint the morning skies with strips of colour, line after line etched into the air as more and more fell from the heavens. Ahriman knew they were Deathstorm Drop Pods, and that the first one would land in exactly forty-eight seconds several hundred yards west of one of the Rok Fortresses. The first troop carrying Drop Pods were ten minutes behind, and the Stormbirds, Thunderhawks, Storm Eagles and Army Landers were another ten minutes behind them. Ahriman had linked himself to the Legion vox net so he could monitor their progress, because he couldn’t unshackle his mind and observe them directly. He hadn’t yet spoken with any of the Legion Leaders, but he knew his old friend Phosis T’kar was leading the Thousand Sons force. He looked forward to seeing him again; he had been offworld working with the Silent Sisterhood while Ahriman was on Prospero.

Around him the Caorst Panxers impatiently waited for the order to move. They had taken his order to heart, the troops eager to spearhead the counterattack and take the fight to the foe after so many weeks of inactivity. The remaining two Baneblades idled at the head of the attack column, followed by the Leman Russ and Malcador tanks and the mechanised companies in their Chimeras. They would have to wait for the Legions to land, charging headlong against the entire Ork horde would be suicide. Once the Orks were distracted with the Legion forces at their throats, then he would strike.
i'm lovin it, sorry if i can't contribute more.
also, captcha would like to know if their will be an icer orkseal
wait if they saw these broadcasts of julius (related to morticia) how did they not recognise him? did he grow a super beard in like the two months time lapse?
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Can you hear that sound SE; AA and DM? it is the sound of pic related.

He's not one of the Daughters, it's unlikely there's many images of him out there, and he was on Seadelant only a few days before the walls fell, so his interview may not have been broadcast before the walls fell. plus spending a month underground with no showering or the like means even Isis would have a hard time recognising him.
Ahriman had commandeered a Chimera to carry him and Julius’ resistance band through the city, and he stood on top of it observing the sky through a pair of Magnoculars. His eyesight may have been many times better than a normal human, but even that eyesight needed help at times.

Beneath him, Julius and his friends were clustered on the Chimeras rear ramp, talking quietly with one another about trivial things, distracting each other from the fact they were about to go into the belly of the beast. They had new uniforms and new sets of armour. Summer, the woman in particular was much more comfortable now that she was when he had first seen her, the armour fitted much better now.

“Ser, when are we going?” Julius asked from below. He’d decided that Ahriman was ‘sir’, not ‘professor’, which suited Ahriman fine. He hardly felt like an academic at the moment.

“When the Legion forces land, not before. The last thing we want is to be swamped with Orks. We need to get to the bunker fast, before the Legions kill enough Orks to allow the Daemon to achieve its master’s dark goals.” Julius nodded, suppressing the fear in his aura as he turned back to his companions. Ahriman didn’t blame him for feeling that way, he knew no fear, but he felt apprehension all the same. The Daemon would know they were coming for it, and it would be prepared. But it was the only way to ensure this world wasn’t turned into a hell-world, half in and half out of the Great Ocean where Daemons could roam freely and strike at the wider Imperium.

The Caorst Sous-lieutenant marched up and saluted in the almost half hearted Caorst way. They appeared incredibly sloppy, but Ahriman knew they could fight as hard as anyone.
“All troops present and correct my lord. We’re ready to move out at your command.”
In the distance a series of muffled explosions rang out. The first Deathstorm had fired its rockets. Soon more and more faint reports of weapons rang out as more and more Deathstorms unleashed their fury into the Orks. Ahriman couldn’t help but smile.

The last Deathstorm touched down, and the sudden cessation of streaking drop pods in the sky felt like the curtain drop at the end of act one, the tension rising as they waited for act two to start. Checking his helmet chronometer, Ahriman knew the first troop drop pod would be landing exactly four minutes and eight seconds from now, and it would be carrying Astartes from the fifth company of the Sons of Horus, under the command of ‘Little Horus’ Aximand of the Mournival. And yet this knowledge wouldn’t allow him to watch as the Drop Pod struck the surface, hear the explosive bolts blowing open the doors and see the Astartes in Sea Green armour unleashing the Warmaster’s fury upon the foe.

He cursed the Daemon for inhibiting the free movement of his body of light. Extending his mind only went so far; he wanted to see the Legions cutting into a foe like a scythe through grass and bringing the Emperor’s vengeance. But if he dared leave his flesh he risked opening his soul to attack, an attack he could not defend against. Many of his brothers had been killed by Daemons when they had tried to scry out the foes with their subtle bodies, Ahriman knew the risk.

“Not long now.” He whispered.

The kiss of the upper atmosphere shook the Stormbird as it tore down towards the landing zone. Nathaniel Garro of the Death Guard felt the craft vibrating around him, grateful for the restraint harness that held him fast to his cage seat. Libertas, his famed greatsword sat belted at his hip and there was nothing to do but wait until the Stormbird touched down and the assault began. This was one of the most stressful parts of the fight, as there was nothing he could do until the ship landed; he was helpless if something went wrong with the Stormbird while it was still in the air. He slowed his breathing and cleared his mind of all distractions, feeling a warm and pleasant surge fill his body as his armour prepared his metabolism for the imminent battle. Around him, the hulking forms of his best first company veterans sat, waiting for the order to fight. He had been first captain for nearly five hundred years, ever since Captain Typhon had been killed by that Jorgall monster during the purge of the bottle world several centuries before the end of the Crusade. The rank, second only to the Primarch Himself still filled him with pride, pride that the last of the Dusk Raiders was so trusted to be made the Primarch’s red right hand. He had more or less led the Legion for the past eighteen years, but he was happy to delegate that responsibility back to whom it truly belonged.

‘Steel your souls my brothers. I want a clean and fast deployment. I want it so sharp the Emperor himself would applaud its perfection!’ He took a breath as the standby alert began to wail. ‘Today the Primarch leads us, and we will make him proud to do so! For Mortarion and Terra!’
‘Mortarion and Terra!’ Garro heard Veteran Sergeant Aron’s rough baritone leading the chorus of assent. His voice reminded him of Sergeant Hakur, now long dead. Everyone he had known was long dead. Decius, Temeter, Voyen, Rahl, Sender, even Grulgor his former rival, all were now lost to time. He was the last of the old Legion. He disliked the term ‘old ninety’ as it sounded patronising and he refused all exultation, but he couldn’t avoid the fact that out of the ten thousand Dusk Raiders who had left Terra, he was the only one left, the only one who still remembered their name and mantra, the red right arm of the Emperor.
That abruptly reminded him of why the Primarch now led them into battle after so many years, what had motivated him to take up the Manreaper and the Lantern again. In some ancient cultures the shedding of blood was a cleansing act, and Lord Mortarion needed to purge the rage from his system, after what had happened with his daughter. Garro had been on Barabus when he had heard the news, and he had immediately sent the condolences of the Legion to their lord and master. It was as much a wound to the Legion as a whole as it was to the lady Morticia, and though they could do nothing to the one responsible they could take out their anger on the Greenskins below. Though they were mindless Xenos, Garro felt a sliver of pity for them. At the briefing, Lord Mortarion had simmered with anger, anger Garro knew he felt for the one called Keiter. Keiter was beyond his reach, but these Orks weren’t and they would taste his wrath.
Suddenly a near impact shook the Stormbird and the sound of shrapnel pinged of its flanks. Garro pulled himself to his feet and moved down the spinal aisle of the Stormbird, clutching onto the low, overhead handrails and he went. He nodded to the Death Guard Veterans in their Mk IV or Terminator Plate as they impassively sat waiting for the order to go. Though he was first captain he didn’t usually wear Terminator plate, it was too slow and bulky for his tastes. The bird rocked and shuddered as another near miss shook it.

He reached the cockpit section and wrenched open the hatch. Two flight officers sat back to back, facing wall panel consoles, and beyond them two pilot servitors lay, hardwired into forward-facing helm positions in the cone. The cockpit was dark, apart from the coloured glow of the instrumentation and the sheen of light coming in through the forward slit-ports.
“What the hell is firing on us?” he demanded to one of the flight officers.

“Gunship sir, Savage Class. It has already downed two Thunderhawks, a Stormbird and an Army Lander, as well as several Thunderbolt fighters. We’re trying evasive manoeuvres.”

“Savage Class? That’s frigate sized! How the hell did it sneak up on us?” He’d seen them in action during the Crusade; the Savage Gunship’s short-ranged but incredibly powerful Heavy gunz were more than capable of ripping into a cruiser with vicious ease. Even a glancing hit from one of them would vaporise the Stormbird, and that was ignoring its lighter weapons.

“I don’t know sir; it must have followed us through the atmosphere. If we can hold on, we will get low enough so it can’t follow us without risking crashing into the ground.”
“But what about the rest of the transport stream? That ship could pick off our transports one by one as they come in.” Garro thought for a second. The safety of the Primarch and the rest of the transport stream was of top priority. Even his own life mattered not if this Gunship had the capability of killing the Primarch’s Stormbird. “Pull the ship up. We’re going to lure the Gunship away from the Transport stream.”

“But sir, we could easily get shot down if we do that.”
“Are you disobeying my orders?” he reached for Libertas. It was only a bluff, but the flight officer fell for it.

“No First Captain. Diverting course now.” He felt the Stormbird lurch as it broke away from the transport stream and flew straight at the Gunship.

“Can our missiles dent that thing?” he asked.

“I don’t know First Captain. Shall we find out?”

Smiling, Garro left the cockpit and went to address his warriors. Briefly he told them of the danger, and of what they were doing.

“Are we going to board the gunship?” Veteran Sergeant Aron asked.

Garro hadn’t thought of that. He wanted to fight on the ground, alongside his liege-lord and gene sire. But that hardly seemed likely now. He would fight and die up here, where the sky meets the void. He opened the vox-link to the flight officer. “Can you get me a full scan and readout of the Gunship?”

“On the way sir. Check your Helmet HUD.”
Garro pulled on his Mk IV Helmet, and after a few seconds was rewarded as gun-camera footage was beamed onto his field of vision. Before them the Savage Gunship flew, an ugly brute, boxy, blocky with no aesthetics to it at all. The flat bow was full of massive cannons, most of which appeared to be salvaged Imperial weapons from the space stations destroyed at the very outset of the invasion. Those cannons were made to crack the armour of a capital ship, if they hit the Stormbird there would be nothing left. The ship was turning, trying to get a lock on the twisting and dodging Stormbird, its secondary and flak batteries occasionally firing to no effect. Garro breathed a sigh of relief. It was no longer going after the transport stream. Their distraction had worked. Now they just had to destroy the brute. He had a hundred veterans behind him, and his mind raced as he thought of a way they could board and destroy the Gunship.

“First and second Terminator squads will spearhead the boarding action, push on the ships reactor. Fifth and sixth Veteran squads will come with me, hit the bridge. Third and fourth Terminator will hit the engines, seven through ten Veteran will hold the breach so we can escape, raid deeper in to keep the Orks distracted and unaware of our true intentions. Between us we should be able to send the thing down in flames. The Stormbird will harass the ship as we fight, keep it occupied until we can blow it. Remember to activate your boot magnets; we don’t want anyone falling off the ship.”

A chorus of fists smacking against plate told Garro they had heard and understood his orders. Other legions would have made a song and dance about receiving orders, but they were Death Guard; they did not need any more than that.
“Use the missiles to make a breach in the upper outer hull so we can have access.” He commanded the pilots. A few seconds passed as the Stormbird manoeuvred into position.

“Missiles away.” The pilot called out. Next second, there was an almighty crash and the entire ship shook so violently Garro was flung off his feet, the vid feed spluttering and dying in his helmet.

“Sir, we’re hit! Major damage to the starboard wing.” The flight officer yelled into the vox.

“Can you keep us flying?” Garro spat as he rose to his feet.

“I can damn well try.” The Stormbird lurched again as it struggled to remain in the air. One thing was for certain, boarding the Gunship would be suicide now, they would have no way off the Gunship with the Stormbird in this state. Garro had a bad feeling the Stormbird wasn’t going to last very long anyway.

“Sir! Unknown contact bearing 037.” The flight officer added yet more fuel to the fire. Was this another Savage? An Onslaught Attack Ship? Something else?
“Radio contact from the unknown ship sir, Imperial channels.”

“Patch me through.” Garro commanded. For a few seconds there was heavy static, and then a voice punched through.

“This is the XVIIIth Legion escort Frigate Iron Tide under the command of Captain Roemer, hailing unknown Legion Stormbird.”

“This is XIVth Legion Stormbird 002, under the Command of First Captain Nathaniel Garro. What are you doing in the high atmosphere?”

“Engaging and destroying that Gunship First Captain. It broke the picket line and wrecked the Night Lords Frigate Black Shroud. We are engaging it as per the Lord Solar Admiral’s orders.”
“Captain, the gunship’s bow batteries will rip your ship in half if they hit you.”

“They won’t hit.” The Captain seemed absurdly confident. Garro checked the Stormbird’s vitals, and came to a grim realisation.

“Additional: our ship has been crippled by enemy fire, can you landing bay cope with a Stormbird?”

“We can try at least. Forward docking bay is yours.”

Garro gritted his teeth as the wounded Stormbird limped towards the Frigate Docking bay, the Ork Gunship still sniping at it. All it would take is one hit to finish them off. The frigate loomed large before them, painted in the green and black of the XVIII Legion. Its forward turrets were banging away at the Gunship, return fire impacting against its voids.

After several torturous minutes, the ship screamed into the landing bay; smoke pouring from its shattered wing like blood pumping from a wounded man. Garro winced as the Stormbird searched for a place to land; the Frigate’s landing bay was designed for shuttles and a few escort fighters, not for a massive war engine like a Stormbird. There was precious little space within for it.

Finally the Stormbird touched with a hard slam, lurching as its skids smacked into the deck. The harness restraints disengaged and the warriors scrambled from their cage seats and hastily retrieve their stowed weaponry as the debarking ramp dropped from the rear of the Stormbird. By now smoke was beginning to fill the inside of the transport, and Garro knew the bird was not going to last very much longer.
A damage control team were already outside, pouring foam onto the shattered Stormbird. Garro marched over to their leader, a young Lieutenant.

“Lieutenant, make sure to concentrate your efforts on the starboard engine. The fuel line’s been shattered, and it’s likely to go up.”
The Lieutenant suddenly noticed the towering Astartes standing beside him, and for a moment he was paralysed, before he threw out a snappy salute and swiftly calling orders to his men. The men half ignored his commands until Garro gestured at them, and then they hustled up. The Lieutenant was obviously no combat officer; this must be his first action and the men were ill used to him. He felt a pang of sympathy, when he had become First Captain many of the veterans had resented him until he had proven himself to them. The Lieutenant would have to do the same.

Suddenly an electrical crackle reached Garro’s ears, and he turned to see flames bursting into life inside the Stormbird, forming a barrier which cut the remaining Astartes off from escape. He turned to find the Lieutenant and see if he could provide any help, but he was gone.

He turned again to see the Lieutenant fearlessly running towards the burning Stormbird, a personal extinguisher on his back. Though he was dwarfed by the raging fire, he began blasting away at the barrier of flame inside the hold, holding it back as Garro’s Legion Veterans disembarked past him. The paint on their armour was bubbling from the intense heat, and Garro wondered how the Lieutenant was coping with it in there. His bravery was allowing the slower Terminator Veterans to disembark, and Garro counted them off one by one, until he was certain all one hundred of his men and the pilots were safely off. As he did he saw a series of flashes and knew the Stormbird was about to go up. He turned and ran into the Stormbird. He grabbed the Lieutenant and pulled him out of the Stormbird while yelling. “Get down!”
Next second the Stormbird exploded in a shrieking fireball, blowing the two out of the Stormbird and clear across the docking bay. Several fighters and shuttles were torn apart by the shrapnel from the Stormbird’s fiery demise, and small fires sprouted all over the landing bay. The Lieutenant had been shielded from the blast by Garro, but there were cuts to his face and arms, and the heat of the fire had left his skin burnt. Garro helped him to his feet.

“You...saved me.” He managed to say.

“And by your actions earlier you saved a number of my men. The XIV Legion owes you a debt of honour. I am first Captain Nathaniel Garro, and if I have my way there will be a medal for you and your men for your brave actions here. Come with me.” Garro turned and marched towards the bridge, calling out an order to his men.

“Brothers, aid the damage control teams. We may be down, but by the Emperor we are not yet out of this fight!”


The worst part of any battle was the waiting before it began, the agonising period before you went into the fray. And when your foe was a fugging Daemon, it made the whole experience worse. Julius was twitchy, jumpy. They were about to take a step into the unknown. They had got away from the Daemon last time, but that was last time.

“Oll…Julius, its bloody Julius now isn’t it? Anyway, there’s something up there, too big to be a landing ship. Can you see?” Dyllion’s words brought Julius back to reality.

Julius followed Dyllion’s outstretched finger, and sure enough, there was a faint object high above the city.
“Ser, what’s that?” Julius asked, pointing to Dyllion’s faint speck in the sky.

Ahriman lifted the magnoculars to his eyes, pointing them at Julius’s mystery object.

“That’s a Legion Frigate, Gladius class. What it’s doing in the high atmosphere is beyond me, but it must have something to do with the Legion landing forces. Any minute now.”

Within a few minutes Ahriman’s words came true and the skies were filled with fighters, bombers and Landers. Thunderhawks in the olive and white of the Death Guard and the crimson of the Thousand Sons jostled with sea green Stormbirds of the Sons of Horus. Huge Titan landers and bulk Army haulers joined the Legion ships plummeting to earth. Julius had never seen a more spectacular sight. Beyond the walls the call of battle raged, the distant roar of thousands of small arms and the crash of artillery. The Orks were in for it, at long last.

Ahriman clambered back into the Chimera, but left the top hatch open and he stood up in it. He gestured at the others, who swiftly clambered in after him. The back ramp hissed shut behind them. From outside, they could hear the sounds of all the troops mounting up, swiftly drowned out by the roar of engines starting up.

“This is it then?” Scvott asked. Next second the powerplant on their Chimera powered up, rendering speech impossible. The answer was already around him.

Ahriman said two words, barely audible above the roar of the engine.

“Get moving.”

“Driver advance!” the call echoed up along the column. The clatter of tracks rose up as the lead Baneblades lurched forth, the column trailing behind them. Ahead, the massive fortress doors opened with a moan of hydraulics for the first time in twenty three days.

They were on their way. Back to the bunker, back to the Daemon.
Summer reached over and took Julius’s hand, ignoring Flynn’s rolled eyes or Dyllion’s perpetual scowl. He couldn’t say anything to her, but this was enough.
For several minutes the convoy ground onwards. Julius could hear noting above the roar of the engine, and he was more focused on holding on for dear life. He’d been in a Chimera before on Terra, but not one driving through a ruined city. It jerked and bounced until Julius though his brains had been mashed inside his skull and he was covered in bruises. He had no idea how far they’d gone, how far they had to go, what the situation was like outside. Lord Ahriman stood rock still with his head poked out of the top hatch, commanding the battle. Julius had no wish to distract him.

Suddenly there was an explosion loud enough to cut over the engine noises. Julius reached for the nearest vision slit, but could see little through the fogged armourglass. A few seconds later another massive explosion came up, and then another. Julius’s curiosity finally overcame his reluctance to distract Ahriman.

“Ser, what is going on out there?”

“Bomb Squigs.” Ahriman muttered as he opened the vox and barked out a warning. A few seconds later, another muffled explosion announced the demise of yet another tank.

The roar came up even above the engine growls and the squeal of tracks, a roar which though he was familiar with it, still chilled Julius to the bone.


It was followed by the chatter of Ork weapons, and a few screams from the Caorst troopers caught up in the charge.

“Ser?” Julius asked.

“Orks. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. The bastards were waiting for us, setting an ambush” he opened the vox. “This is Lord Ahriman; watch your nine, incoming Orks.” The Chimera stopped dead and the back ramp hissed open.
“Stay here.” He commanded as he dashed out. For a few minutes they sat there, watching troops dismount and rush into battle through the open hatch. More and more streamed past, as the crack of lasfire and the roar of battle cannons grew and intensified.

Julius could see they needed help, and he reached down and unbuttoned his holster. “We have to go and help; they will need every man and woman who can handle a Lasgun.”

“The Astartes lord commanded that we stay here, and you may be the son of the bravest man who ever lived but I am not and don’t want him yelling at me once this is done.” Scvott was still wedded to authority even now. Julius didn’t think he would ever learn.

“Suit yourself.” Julius got up and dashed from the Chimera, drawing his pistol as he did so. He did not need to look to know Summer was right behind him, and Flynn behind her.

The situation did not look good. Orks were pouring from the building and side streets, meeting the Caorst troopers in a storm of lasfire and bullets. Already the ground was carpeted in Ork and Caorst dead, and several pyres showed where tanks had been brewed up. Once the sight of all those dead humans would have made Julius sick, but not anymore. Now he gave them no more attention than he would were they the corpses of rats or dogs. It still felt unnatural to feel that way, and he knew he would have a lot of questions for his father when he returned to Terra. If he returned to Terra.

He saw an Ork about to throw a stick grenade and shot it through the head. He threw himself flat beside a dismounted squad and added to the firepower they were putting out. None of the Caorst troopers seemed to notice him, but they had bigger things to worry about.

The Orks were throwing themselves against the Convoy time and time again, wave after wave of green bodies. The urban terrain hampered the armour as they tried to bring their heavy weapons to bear.
Another howling mob of Orks burst out of a side street and rushed towards them. The Chimera’s turret Multilaser and the squad Heavy Bolter tore into them, scattering them. Julius felt that this might be the end of it; the Orks had been driven back. Then he saw it.

“Holy fug,” he whispered.

This time there was no end to this wave, it seemed every Ork left in the city were rushing the convoy at the same time. Was the Daemon responsible? Had it ‘informed’ the Orks of the threat and was it letting them deal with it?

Once again the Imperial forces opened fire, but now it was doing little to stop the onrushing horde. Battle Cannon shells tore holes which were quickly refilled, and Lasgun and heavy bolter fire thinned the ranks but could not stop them.

The front edge of renewed Ork push poured across the last few metres of open ground, losing troops to the sustained rifle volleys at every step. Ten metres, five, two, and still they came.

The concussion of the massed Ork charge meeting the Caorst line sent a ripple of shock back through the infantry as the Orks tore into the now vulnerable human soldiers. At range, the Imperials held the advantage, but once the Orks reached close combat, the tide turned in their favour.

Sense departed. Instinct took over. Julius fired his pistol, and saw an Ork’s head spray apart. He stroked with his sword bayonet, and took the top off a skull. Something hit him in the gut.
Winded, he wheeled, and eviscerated another Ork with his blade, before blasting a third with his pistol.
Around him the Caorst fought with bayonet and rifle butt, fighting not for victory, but mere survival. Julius had no idea how many Imperials had been killed in that charge, if Summer and Flynn were alright, but he couldn’t let himself worry about them. He couldn’t much help them if he was dead.
A Caorst Caporal was gutted before him by an Ork Nob with a power claw. He sank five shots into it before it finally died. His new uniform was baptised in blood. He had no idea who was winning or losing, but the Orks seemed to have the advantage, and it was growing all the time. If something didn’t happen soon, they would all be swept away.

A chain of missiles exploded amongst the Orks, and the endless wave suddenly started to slacken.

“Look!” a Caorst trooper yelled, pointing up. Julius looked up.

Above them hovered the slab-sided form of a Stormeagle gunship, missiles spearing away from the top mounted pods into the Orks. Its boarding ramp was down and a warrior stood upon it. He leapt into the air and hit the ground with a thunderous boom mere metres from the straggling Caorst convoy. Chain-blade whirring, the giant in forest-green levelled his bolt pistol at the nearest Orks.

“Rally! For the freedom of humanity and the glory of Terra!”

Like thunderbolts striking the earth, he was joined by others, warriors in green and black bearing the symbol of the snarling drake on their shoulder guards.

They roared as one as they set upon the Orks.


The warriors of the XVIII Legion joined the fray, and the tide turned.
Er, SE? Where'd you go?
The last few days passed quicker, since at last the group had found a guide willing to show them around the Fang who actually wanted them to be there. Under Russ’ direct supervision, they toured one of the small camps the Wolves used to train for infiltration missions, wherein the trainees had to move from one side of the island to the other without being detected by an Iron Priest overseeing them with several servo-skulls high in the sky. Later, the group went on a far less interrupted trip to fish on another island.
As their time on Fenris drew to a close, Russ received notice of the liberation of Seadelant. As he returned to the others, his visage was darkened. “Freya, I thought you might want to know. Julius Pius has been rescued from Seadelant,” he reported.
The five teens paused their game to listen. “Great! We were getting worried,” Freya said.
“Well, there were complications. He should be all right, but the fighting got…dirty.” Russ shook his head. “You’ll hear it from him, I’m sure.”
“Yeah.” Alex rested his hands at his sides and leaned back to look at her.
She smiled slightly, planting her hands on her hips and looking down at him. “Alex, baby…don’t let the future scare you. Yeah, it’s looking like it will be rough for you. I won’t say it isn’t. But you have a lot going for you, too.”
Alex managed a little smile of his own. “Yeah. You’re right. I guess I just don’t know what to expect.”
“We’re living together now,” she pointed out.
He shrugged. “That’s true.” He rose to his feet and pecked her a kiss. “All right. Let’s get back to it,” he said, resuming his packing.
The missing post occurs between
And is on the talk page for my account on the 1d4chan wiki.
Alex hefted the last of his suitcases. Freya walked up behind him and grabbed one of her own. “Uh, Alex…I think you might want to talk to Dad before we go,” she said.
He nodded. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right.” He set the case down and walked back to where Russ was still standing.
Alex came to a halt at the Wolf King’s side. “Sire, do you have a moment before I go?” he asked.
Russ looked at the other Wolves. They silently filed away to the lifts, offering them a moment of privacy. He glanced down to where Alex was waiting. “What is it?” he asked.
Alex squared his shoulders. “Look…I want to thank you, sire.”
Russ cocked his head. “For what?”
“Well, letting us stay here, for one thing, but also for trusting Freya to make her own decision regarding whether or not to stay with me at Cyprine.” Alex looked back at where she was lifting the last of their luggage onto the servitor-driven baggage cart. “I don’t know where I’d be without her.” He looked back up at Russ, nerves peeking through. “I’m…really bad at this. So, let me just say this. I promise what no matter how this ends, with us and with my family being assholes and all of it, I’ll never give her a reason to leave. I was happy to be there for her when Morticia was hurt, and she was happy to be there for me when I was disinherited.”
Russ nodded once. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.” He gestured over to the lifter. “Now…you’re going to be late. You go and get my girl off to school safe and sound.”
“I’ll do that.” Alex bowed. “Thank you for hosting us, Lord Primarch Russ. It’s been an honor.”
“Certainly.” Russ watched him rise and rejoin his daughter. He saw the lad squeeze her hand as he climbed the ramp, and then they vanished out of sight as it rose to seat the hold.
Oh, I almost forgot, I'll be uploading the entire story as a PDF when it's finished, but that may not be for two more weeks. We'll see.
The shuttle lifted and slid out into the inky blackness of space. The ambient sound of the engines died down considerably as they left the atmospheric shields of the bay. Freya sank down into a seat on the little ship and stretched out, staring out into the open chamber. Alex sat down beside her, but she didn’t stir. Remilia pulled her slate out to check messages one last time before they were out of range, while Jake and Venus simply buckled in for naps.
Freya pulled her knees up to her chest and lay down sideways on the bench, eyes unfocussed. Alex looked down at her. “Are you all right, Freya?” he asked.
“I will be.” She didn’t move as she answered. “I just never feel good leaving the pack like this. Just give it a few hours and I’ll be all right.” Alex made to rise her head to rest in her lap, but she waved his hand away. “You’re a sweetheart, but I just need to handle this,” she said. She reached over her head and squeezed his hand again, though. “Thanks.”
Remilia groaned under her breath, drawing their attention. “Fucking great,” she said aloud.
“What’s up?” Jake asked, stirring in his seat.
Remilia held up her slate. “The Tide was lightly damaged in the fight for Seadelant. It’s spaceworthy, but Captain Roemer wants us to bear in mind that we may not be all that warmly welcomed while the ship’s hangar is undergoing repairs.”
“The fuck? What happened?” Venus asked.
“Dinged up by Orks during the landing sequence of the Army shuttles, but check this out,” she said. “They took on a damaged Stormbird during the landing and part of the hangar got trashed. And aboard the shuttle was Nathaniel Garro of all people.”
“Are you serious?” Venus asked.
“Apparently Uncle Mortarion wanted the big guns at the front rank for this one,” Remilia said. “Can’t blame him. Long story short: the hangar’s damaged, so we’ll be docking in the cargo shuttle bay instead,” she reported.
“Hmm.” Venus thought that over. “Well, we’ll have to see how that goes. I’ll talk to Roemer when we get aboard.”
No sooner had she said that than the ship’s engine noise died down even more. The ship had emerged from the gravity well of Fenris and its deep-space drives kicked on, propelling them towards the outer system and the Iron Tide.
The battle didn’t last much longer once the XVIII committed themselves to the fight. The Orks fought hard, but they were no match for the sons of Nocturne. Tactical Support Squads armed with Flamers and Volkite weapons scoured the Orks from the rubble they were concealing themselves in, and assault squads tore apart those Orks who tried to escape. Within a few minutes, the massed Ork assaults were broken and the survivors hounded to destruction as they fled.

Ahriman reviewed these facts as he talked with the Caorst commander, a capitaine colonel named Luc Harcourt. They had lost nine Chimeras, five Russ, three Malcadors and at least four hundred troopers in that fight, every company had suffered heavily. They wouldn’t be able to reach the Bunker on their own now; they would need the help of the Salamanders.
As if anticipating his train of thought, the Salamanders leader strode up to Ahriman. He’d seen him tear apart a mob of Nobs on his own, if anyone could get them through it would be this son of the forge.

“Chief Librarian Ahzek Ahriman of the First Fellowship, well met. I am Brother Captain Zichar Ir'Sem, Lord of the Burning Skies, and Brother Captain of the Fourth Great Company.”

“Welcome Brother Captain, your arrival is most timely. The Orks had the convoy pinned, and time is of the essence, so I will not beat about the bush. We need to get to the outer Defence Laser bunker as fast as possible, and we need the help of your warriors to do so.”

“Why there? Surely you should be concentrating your efforts on cleansing the outer city of the Greenskins? That is what we thought you were doing when we saw the Orks pouring on you.”
“Were it anything other than what it is, I would be. But this is something far bigger than mere Orks. There is another force at work here.”Ahriman didn’t want the news to spread, least of all to Mortarion. He didn’t need him accusing Ahriman of bringing the Daemon here with his presence. But if he wanted the Salamanders to aid him, they would have to know. “There is a Daemon here on Seadelant hiding within that bunker, and I must destroy it before whatever foul plan it has comes to fruition.”

Ir'Sem frowned at that piece of news. “We were not informed of any Daemonic presence. How can you be sure?”

“I am Ahzek Ahriman of the Corvidae, of course I’m sure. I have witnesses who can testify they saw the hell-spawn. Don’t inform Lord Mortarion, you know how he sees me and my Legion, I don’t want to give him reason to suspect me to blame for its presence here.”

Ir’Sem stiffened and nodded. “Very well Lord Ahriman, my brothers and I will be proud to lead the way to destroy this Daemon. The Orks won’t be much of a problem; we have just the tool for the job.” Ir'Sem said as a convoy of Salamanders vehicles ground up. Ahriman recognised several Deimos Pattern Predator Infernus, a common and favoured design amongst the Salamanders Legion but the lead vehicle is what caught his interest. It was a standard Leman Russ, but it was very unlike the Caorst ones it was painted in a vivid green, with a scale motif in orange. Its gun was the biggest difference, instead of a Battle Cannon, Demolisher cannon, Vanquisher cannon or Executioner Plasma Cannon it mounted a strange weapon vaguely resembling the Mega-Bolters mounted on some tanks and Titans, or the Bolt Cannon carried by the Avenger Strike Fighter.

“That’s new.” Ahriman remarked.
“Just out of the Magma City’s forges. A new Russ variant specifically for combating the Ork menace. This is its first field test; let’s see if it proves itself up to the challenge.”

The Leman Russ had a Salamander poking out of the Cupola, resting on a pintle-mounted heavy stubber. A Hunter Killer tube sat beside him. This tank was loaded for bear.

The convoy reorganised under Ahriman’s and Ir’Sem’s commands with the Salamanders at the head, supported by the remaining Baneblade and Ahriman’s Chimera. The Caorst were mixed in with the Salamanders to ensure the Marines were on hand to support the human troops. When Ahriman returned to his Chimera, he found Julius, Summer and Flynn drenched in blood and with their weapons drawn sitting outside it. He was hardly surprised, Julius was hardly likely to obey his barked order, and more than his father would have. Julius and Isis shared one big thing in common; they had a lot of their fathers within them and always strived to live up to their father’s legacies. No wonder the two had come together. Ahriman once again looked over the woman, Summer. It didn’t take a psyker to tell that Julius and she had got close. He mentally shrugged. He for one didn’t want to get caught up in this. Let poor Julius have to explain himself to Lady Lupercal once all this was done.

They mounted up, and once again the convoy started moving, grinding on towards the bunker. It wasn’t long before the Orks made their presence felt again.
“Orks to the left!” Ahriman commanded as he felt their psy-field flare. The Russ, he had been informed it was called a Punisher, turned its turret towards the oncoming warband. The Punisher’s cannon roared, an ear splitting scream like a massive saw cutting through metal. Within seconds the entire Ork mob was gone, torn apart in a rain of bullets. The surviving Orks began to chant something in their crude tongue, “Dakka dakka dakka.”

They were clearly impressed, even as it slaughtered them.

Several more mobs confronted them, but each suffered the same fate, either mown down by the Punisher, or blasted by the Baneblade and torched by the Infernus Predators. They were barely fifteen minutes drive away from the Bunker, and the Orks were no longer slowing them down. Unlooked for hope blossomed in Ahriman’s twin hearts. They would pull this off, the Daemon would be defeated and the war won. Hope can be treacherous.

A faint rumbling, like the first signs of an oncoming earthquake. Ahriman thought little of it, but as it grew and grew he became more concerned, until he opened the vox to the Caorst Sous-lieutenant.

“Do you have any idea what that…” his words were cut off as a massive roar rose up from the other side of the inner wall. It could be only one thing.
The Deathstrike was launching, slowly rising on an immense column of flame, the roar drowning out the sounds of battle. Every head turned to watch the sight as it rose, slowly at first but then faster and faster as the chains of gravity were broken. It was a sight straight from the annals of man’s early history, when rockets like that first took man beyond the skies of Terra and into the void beyond.

After a few seconds Ahriman snapped back to reality as he realised what that launch meant.

“I will have the Graf’s head for this!” he roared as he opened the vox link and demanded to speak to her immediately.

“Graf, I gave express instructions not to launch! When that thing comes down, half the liberating Legion forces will be wiped out! I imagine Lord Mortarion will be most interested to hear your explanation before he skins you alive.” He roared before she could even get a single word in edgeways.

She stuttered, tried to keep her failing composure as she replied. “My…My Lord, I…I didn’t touch it. We saw a suspicious individual lurking near it, and next second it launched! We couldn’t do anything to stop it, and the self-destruct mechanism is fused!”

Cursing, he disconnected and turned to Ir’Sem. “Brother-Captain, in less than five minutes that warhead is going to land and everything within a seven kilometre radius will be wiped out. Fortunately for us that one is targeting the Rok fortresses and not the outer city. Fortunate for us, but not for the Legion forces besieging those fortresses. You have access to the Legion network; tell them to evacuate everything from sector D-nine through G-eleven as fast as possible. Hurry!”
Ir’Sem caught Ahriman’s urgency and sent a series of messages to the other Legion Lords. Soon the renewed roar of engines revealed that they had cottoned on to his message. For several minutes the skies were full of Stormbirds and Thunderhawks evacuating the Legion Forces away from the blast zone. They were just in time.

A nearly invisible streak betrayed the falling Warhead, and Ahriman braced himself for what would come next. But that would turn out to be something completely different.

The warhead blossomed into a half-sphere of violet light, everything touched by the light consumed by the warp.

“Vortex Warhead.” Ahriman whispered as it penetrated. He repeated it. “How the hell did the Deathstrike have a Vortex Warhead loaded?! We checked it before we loaded it!”

Next second Ahriman felt a sickening blow to his very soul, as something began to shift in the Great Ocean beneath him. the aetheric impact threw him off his feet, the raw horror of what was taking place below them as potent as the Vortex warhead, with far greater consequences. The veil between worlds was thinning, the power of the Great Ocean pressing in on Seadelant, and he could feel it assaulting his senses. The warp rift opened by the Vortex warhead wasn’t collapsing as it was supposed to; it was staying strong and feeding off something. Beyond it vast shoals of void predators were already massing as the walls of reality grew thinner, swirling armies of formless monsters, fanged beasts and destructive entities. All were servants of the Primordial Annihilator, and all were answering the call to battle, a call Ahriman was too late to stop. He had failed, again, and the forces of the Imperium were about to pay the price.

“Ser, what the hell is going on?” Julius bent down over him, concern on his face.

He spat out one word through bloody lips.


The first victim was an Astartes from the Death Guard second grand company. His squad were advancing forth towards one of the Rok Fortresses, when one of the dying Orks suddenly burst asunder, its flesh and blood spraying everywhere. In its place stood a hell-creature, a tall scaled bestial monster with a sharp blade and a long tongue. Within seconds the Death Guard warrior had shouted out a warning, but that was the last thing he would ever do. Seconds later, the warp monster was standing beside him, swinging its blade in a wide arc.

The blow almost effortlessly bisected the Death Guardsmen, cleaving through his Mk IV Plate like it didn’t exist. His fellows watched in horror as he fell and swiftly turned their bolters upon the intruder, but the shells had no effect. Within seconds another three Astartes were cleaved apart by the monster, and then another four as they tried to get a bead on the target which moved almost too fast for them to see. The sergeant swung at the intruder with his power sword, parrying the hell-spawn’s death blow, but it moved faster than he could and finally it beheaded him with a single sweep, lifting his head up and roaring its triumph to its infernal master. The remaining Death Guardsmen finally finished it off with an entire clip to the head, the monster exploding in a cascade of red sparks. Almost an entire squad of Astartes warriors had been wiped out in less than ten seconds.

The remaining Death Guard warrior dazed and confused checked back over his vid-capture trying to identify his assailant. It took him only a few seconds to identify, but when he did he wished he was wrong. It was classified as a Bloodletter, a Daemon of the Blood God. He immediately sent the information over the Legion vox network to his captain and his Primarch, but by then it was too late.
All across the battlefield more of the Daemon’s kin spawned into life fuelled by the Warp Rift opened up by the Deathstrike’s Vortex warhead, first in ones and twos, then in their dozens, and they fell upon the warriors of the Emperor’s Legions with a primal bestial fury. More of the red skinned sword-monsters hacked their way into the ranks of the Astartes, while pink skinned abominations with no fixed form threw torrents of pink Warpfire which immolated flesh and metal in equal measure. In the air packs of stingrays covered in eyes and tusks hunted the Jetbikes, fighters and bombers with relentless vigour, and on the ground more Bloodletters riding massive metal-beasts crashed through the Legion lines, trampling Astartes underfoot and ramming tanks over. The Orks, caught between fire and flood died where they stood, several thousand fleeing from the three way fight as the Astartes and the Daemons confronted each other. The Titans stood mutely, unable to aid the forces on the ground deal with this new threat as it manifested too close for them to engage safely.

Lightning cracked the sky and puddles of blood boiled on the plains.

Hell had come to Seadelant.
As the ship docked in the cargo bay some ten hours later, Venus rose and nudged the others awake. “All right, you guys, grab your stuff,” she said.
As the others roused themselves, Venus poked her head into the cabin, just to confirm their arrival. The dank and worn metal bulkheads and decking of a ship’s cargo bay greeted her through the viewport. “All right, thanks for the lift,” she said to the Space Wolf skjald crew.
“Our honor, Lady Venus,” the copilot said, already beginning the post-flight checklist.
The rear ramp swung open, revealing a small group of uniformed technicians and Officer Haarlan, already waiting at the base. “Lady Venus, Ladies Russ and Dorn, Lords Carlin and Seager, welcome back to the Iron Tide one last time,” he said. “We’ve brought a few cargo pallet movers to expedite your offloading; I hope you got our message about the damage your previous bay has taken?” he asked.
“We did, thank you for the heads-up,” Venus said, bowing slightly to acknowledge him. “Need I be informed of any casualties from the attack?” she asked.
Haarlan’s face darkened. “Not precisely, but the ship did take on some passengers: Lord Nathaniel Garro and some of his Death Guards.”
Venus’ red eyes blinked. “What happened?”
“Their ship was damaged by an Ork gunship, and they had to make an emergency dock,” Haarlan explained, leading them into the ship.
Venus let out a sigh. “Very well. Then let’s get underway as soon as we’re offloaded,” she said.
“Naturally. Captain Roemer awaits you all at your leisure in the Captain’s Hall,” Haarlan said.
As they left the dock, allowing the servitors to move their things, Venus let her eyes wander over the corridors, looking for any sign of damage. Sure enough, the ship seemed undamaged, and the crew seemed jubilant on the few occasions they encountered another person. Then, they had boarded at the very beginning of the day shift.
The lift ferried them to the Captain’s quarters, where a small honor guard awaited them as usual. The Captain rose to his feet, looking rather weary, but nevertheless happy to see them. “My Lords and Ladies, welcome back,” he said, bowing as they entered. “I trust your stay on Fenris was enjoyable?”
“It was. My Father even stopped by,” Freya said.
“Lord Primarch Russ is in the Fang right now?” Roemer asked, surprised.
“He is,” Freya confirmed.
“I see. Had I known, I would have extended an invitation to join us,” Roemer said.
Freya shook her head. “He would have declined. He’s quite busy right now. First time he’s been home in a while.”
Roemer sat as soon as Venus had. “I understand. I am assured you have been informed of the combat which has taken place involving my ship since last you saw it?” he asked.
“We have indeed,” Venus said, smiling to acknowledge Isaac’s grin. “I’m glad the Ork incursion could be expelled before anything catastrophic occurred.”
Roemer smiled ruefully. “As were we all. And it was an honor to meet Captain Garro, as well,” he said.
“I’ve met him at a formal ceremony or two,” Remilia piped up. To Freya’s senses, she looked somewhat nervous about something, though she seemed relaxed at a glance. “He’s a pretty straight-laced officer. Did you have a chance to join the battle for the planet in person?”
“We did, in fact, we engaged a small Ork ship directly,” Roemer said. “I’m proud to report we made a fine accounting of ourselves; the Orks had their lightest-armed flank to us, so we were able to bring them within full broadside under only minimal fire.”
“Good on you, Captain,” Venus said approvingly. “Congratulations. Is that the ship’s first blooding?”
“It is against greenskins, though we have fought pirates before,” Roemer said. “You’ll be pleased to know the tank acquitted itself well against the greenskins.”
“Excellent. Dad would approve,” Venus said. “Did you bring it back?”
“No, a few ships were going to stay behind to transport the Hulk chunks to a Forge World for salvage,” Isaac explained. “We simply left the tank behind; no sense in transporting it with a damaged hangar. Safer that way too, if there’s Orks left behind.”
“I see.” Venus waved off the proffered wine. “Captain, it occurs to me that carrying us to Terra on the heels of such a battle is an inconvenience for you. On behalf of myself and my friends, thank you for transporting us,” she said.
“Think nothing-” Roemer started to say.
Venus held up a hand to gently interrupt. “Roemer, please. You took your vessel into battle in behalf of the Imperium and saved not only one of the Adeptus Astartes’ founding heroes, but also a personal friend of ours. I mean it. Thank you, very much,” she said, smiling broadly.
Roemer returned it, relaxing into his chair a little. Clearly, he was proud of his vessel’s and crew’s accomplishments. “You are most welcome, your Highness,” he said.
Isaac rose from his seat. “With your leave, Captain, I would ensure the Space Wolf ship got off safely and that we are cleared to depart,” he said.
“Certainly, Isaac,” Roemer said. He rose as well. “As much as I would enjoy giving you all a proper welcome, I imagine you wish to unpack and rest. If I may, however,” he said as his guests moved to stand, “I would ask that you be careful outside of designated safe areas. We were boarded during the battle, and took some internal damage. We’ll be putting in at Mars for repairs as soon as you depart, in fact,” he added.
“I see, thank you for your warning,” Venus said. “How will we know the safe areas?”
“Military police postings at the corresponding intersections,” Roemer said. “And, incidentally, given your flight time, I would be honored if you joined me for a dinner tomorrow night. Just to commemorate the journey’s end.”
“Very well.” Venus bowed slightly as she led the others out. “Thanks, Captain.”
what a twist!!! i am pleased.
>And is on the talk page for my account on the 1d4chan wiki.
For us that is n00bish in the way of 1d4chan, where the hell is that talk page? I've checked Road Trip and clicked your name but either that page is not there or, more likely, I don't know what to look for.
Link pls!

For you noble sir.

I will be delayed, I literally am writing as I post from here on in. So comment, leave me feedback, anything to spur me onwards in my writing.
And why no Drawfags?
Thanks ye kindly.
>And why no Drawfags?
Different timezones, not interested, not aware of the new thread etc.
>Freya pulled her knees up to her chest and lay down sideways on the bench, eyes unfocussed.
Dat longing puppy
I'm not looking forward to the storys end, because of how much I like it.
I cant start drawing if i cant stop dawwin'
and fapping
“Lord Solar Admiral! Our scanners are going haywire! Something is pushing out of the rift!”

Kulenka pulled up his Dataslab and checked it. The demise of the Hulk had created a warp rift in the fabric of space-time, and his ships were carefully keeping their distance from it. The Hulk had died, but it had died hard. Nine ships had been destroyed by it before it fell apart, and the Blood Angels Strike Cruiser Shield of Sanguinius had been nearly destroyed, and was even now only just holding together. It would require several years to repair the damage, and Kulenka didn’t relish having to explain to Lord Sanguinius what had become of his warship.

His wandering mind snapped back into focus when something pushed its way out of the rift, closely followed by a second, and then a third object in quick succession. Kulenka’s eyes widened and he bellowed for a closer look. He got one, and for several seconds he started at the pict-captures of the new arrivals.

He had never seen their like before, but he had heard of them from admirals who were based at the Cadian gate. Ships trapped in the warp and turned into sentient monsters, living vessels hungering for blood.

“Daemonships.” He whispered, his throat dry.

Nathaniel Garro swore as he reviewed the messages from the ground. According to them, Daemons were popping up everywhere, tearing into the Astartes lines with the Death Guard taking the brunt of their attentions. How they had manifested, what fell ritual must have summoned them to this world Garro had no idea, but he could do nothing to help his Primarch. He was stuck, marooned in the high atmosphere on board the Iron Tide. The Savage Gunship was long gone; a well timed salvo from the Iron Tide tearing it apart and all the Tide was doing now was sitting at anchor, its engines keeping it from plunging to the planet below.

His transhuman hearing heard the word ‘boarder’ mentioned, and he turned to the Ship’s Captain, who was listening intently to his vox. “First Captain,” he called out. “Message from below decks. Something about there being… there are intruders on board.”
Garro knew what they were. “Daemons.” He growled. He turned on his vox to address his veterans. “Attention, incoming Daemons. Sweep the ship for them and terminate with extreme prejudice. Avoid crew casualties at all costs.”
A series of clicks indicated that his men had received their new orders. In a single fluid move he drew Liberatas, the move starling the crew of the command bridge, who turned to stare at him.

“Keep the ship flying Captain. The Hell-Spawn are a distraction, nothing more. They can’t harm the ship, so they are trying to keep us from interfering with the battle on the ground. My men and I will deal to them. We must remain on station, if things get too bad on the ground you will have to cover the evacuation of all loyal forces before the planet is sanctioned.”

Their faces blanched when they heard his words. The Endurance had several Cyclonic Torpedoes as standard, and it could easily turn them on Seadelant. He didn’t like the idea of killing the planet they had come to save, least of all a world as strategically important as Seadelant, but what choice did they have?

He made a gesture of protection before thundering off, Libertas held at the ready.


Julius stared at confusion at Lord Ahriman as he struggled to his feet. What did he mean by ‘incursion’?
Before he could ask, an explosion came from the head of the column. The spearhead Caorst scout vehicle had just gone up in a fireball. The Orks again. Julius checked his Hellpistol and turned to face the incoming horde. But what crawled out of the smoke and fire wasn’t Ork at all.
Crawling towards them was a metallic monster, a russet red scorpion made of brass and iron scuttling forward on spiked legs. Its body was covered in overlapping segmented plates, a massive cannon jutting from its maw and a pair of huge claws snapping at the air. A tall arching tail ending in a repeating Autocannon whipped back and forth.

Julius felt sick just by looking at it, the same feeling he had when he had seen the Daemon beneath the bunker, and glancing over at Summer her expression matched his own. Scvott, Flynn and Dyllion gaped open mouthed at it as it approached the head of the column, the blood drained from their faces. Scvott with a pale face was almost comical, but Julius wasn’t laughing. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all someone who had wished to deny their existence.
“Brass Scorpion!” Ahriman yelled, gesturing with his heqa staff. A Daemon Engine.

Ahriman’s spat word now made perfect, chilling sense. His worst fears, the ones he had confided to the others were coming true all around them. A Daemonic Incursion. The mass invasion of reality by the beasts of the warp out for blood and souls.

The Salamanders and Caorst troopers rushed to confront it, but they blanched when they saw what they were facing, none of them had ever seen a Daemon Engine before. The monster had no such qualms, and its tail cannon tore through the Caorst troopers and Salamanders in equal measure. They scattered and returned fire, scattered anti-tank shots bounced off of its segmented body as its tail cannon tore through the infantry and raked the armoured personnel carriers. It was not carefully selecting and destroying its targets; it was trying to kill everything in front of it regardless of what they were. A weakness.
Julius watched as the lead Baneblade rotated its turret and let off an ear-splitting shot at the Scorpion. The shell missed, and the machine scuttled over to it at breathtaking speed, plunging its claws into the Baneblade’s armoured glacis plate, peeling it open.
The Baneblade went up in a mushroom cloud, silhouetting the scorpion against its fiery demise. For a second Julius dared hope the Scorpion had gone up with the Baneblade, but once the glow had faded it was still there, standing over the wreck of its victim. The machine almost drank in the carnage; it seemed to revel in the destruction it was causing.

A Salamanders Tactical Support Squad armed with Melta weapons ran up to it, but the infernal machine scuttled up before they could deploy and doused them with molten brass from vents under its jaw. The screams of the Salamanders as their armour liquidified and they were melted would haunt Julius for years to come.

A Predator Infernus with Magna-Melta let of a heat blast, but it did little more than blister the red hide of the Scorpion. A cannon shell ended the Predator before it could fire or retreat. The head of the column disintegrated into bloody shambles as the scorpion turned the tanks and troop carriers into scrap and carpeted the ground with the bodies of Caorst Troopers and Salamanders. Julius retreated with the rest of the troops, constantly looking over his shoulder as the Scorpion worked its way along the column, blood and fire in its wake.

He reached Lord Ahriman, who was co-ordinating a counterattack against the Scorpion. He nodded at Julius before taking off towards the Scorpion, throwing bursts of aether-fire from his gauntlets at the brass beast, but they winked out before touching it, the runes on its armour glowing with each failed attack. If Ahriman couldn’t harm it, what could?
The answer hit Julius as he watched several Salamanders rush past him. The Scorpion’s bloodlust blinded it to other dangers, one in particular, how his father had won his third Star of Terra destroying a Warlock Titan on Quetansk. But first he would need to find something.

One of the Salamanders Rhinos was sitting there, engine growling. He ducked into the back of it, confident what he sought would be in there. Sure enough, resting in the back of the Rhino was an Astartes pattern melta charge. The Salamanders never went anywhere without pacing some serious heat. It was not made for ordinary humans, he had to sling it on his back to carry it, but it would serve.

“What the hell are you doing with that thing?” Dyllion called at him as he ran past his squad, providing covering fire on the Scorpion from behind a pile of rubble.

“Doing a Pius.” Julius called back, before taking to his heels.

He ducked in behind a burning Russ, watching as the Scorpion lashed out at another Predator Infernus, ripping its turret off and tossing it aside in a single fluid move. He had to hit the hell-machine while it was distracted, else it would rip him to shreds in an instant before he could deliver his cargo.
He ran from cover to cover, carefully timing his moves to ensure its attentions were elsewhere each time. At one stop, he rolled the melta charge in a puddle of Ork blood it was disgusting, but it would help mask him from the scorpion’s sight. Closer and closer he came to the machine, and it still hadn’t noticed him. Its desire for blood and carnage was blinding it to his approach, and he would make it rue that lack of sight. As it lashed out at a Malcador, he seized the chance and ran up straight to the Brass Scorpion, ducking under its spiked legs until he faced its engine.
Its back was made up of hundreds of armoured cables squirming like infernal worms. Julius nearly retched at the sight, but he held his composure and waited for an opening.

He saw it and in the blink of an eye pulled the tab on the melta charge and rammed it into the opening. No sooner had he withdrawn his hand than the cables obscured it. Thirty seconds. Move or die.
Julius ran. He ran like he had never run before. He ran so hard his muscles stretched and nearly tore. He couldn’t hear if the Brass Scorpion had noticed him or was after him, he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart and the blood pulsing in his ears. The battle vanished, the world vanished, all that remained was for him to get away before the melta charge detonated.
He didn’t hear the blast, but it picked him up and threw him far. He slammed into a nearby building with deadly force. Pain shot through his ribcage as he felt something break. Blood filled his mouth and he could barely see due to shock. Unconsciousness grasped at him, but he resisted its touch with all his might. If he went under now, he might never wake up. Had his feat of heroics killed him?

He felt something reach down and grab him, but he was too weak to resist. He waited for the end.

But the end never came. His vision cleared enough to see he was being gently carried by a Salamander Legionnaire, the warrior cradling him like a babe. He let himself be carried over to where Ahriman and his friends were. No sooner was he on the ground than Summer ran up to him. She bent down and held him as Ahriman came over.

“You killed the Brass Scorpion Julius, though it nearly killed you with its dying blast. Had Brother Tu’var not been there, you might well have died without any of us knowing. Fortunately he saw you and recovered you. Now Apothecary Luminor will see to you.”

Summer moved off, and the Salamander Apothecary bent over him, scanning his body with the instruments attacked to his right gauntlet.

“Three cracked ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. You got off lucky trooper Pius.”

The Apothecary reached over and with a single fluid move popped his shoulder back in. Julius yelped in pain, but his curse was cut off as the pain receded. His ribs still throbbed and he hurt all over, but he could still fight. The Apothecary helped him to his feet, and straightaway Flynn, Scvott, Dyllion and Summer came up and began congratulating him for killing a Daemon engine. Dyllion slapped him on the back, then immediately apologised as Julius scowled in pain. Summer gave him a peck on the cheek, and then broke off as Ahriman approached him again.
“I’ve spoken with Captain Ir’Sem, and we’ve agreed on what to do next. We’re never going to reach the bunker at this rate, not with every Daemon in the immaterium throwing themselves at the convoy. So the convoy will continue towards the bunker, and hopefully the Daemons will continue to attack it. Meanwhile we will make our way there on foot,” gesturing at Julius and his friends, “and bypass the Daemonic forces guarding the bunker.”

As he spoke, the roar of small arms fire rose up from across the convoy, along with the infernal scream of Daemons. A grim reminder of what was consuming the planet around them. Ahriman’s next words were terse. “We have to move now, and move fast. Come with me.” Ahriman started off, and the others followed. Julius was last, and as he gingerly followed them he heard the squeal of tracks as the convoy started moving again. How many of them would die so they could get to the bunker? Julius hoped their willing sacrifice would not be in vain. The fate of this world depended upon it.


The broken defence laser bunker perimeter fence lay before them, the nightmare at the heart of the Daemon presence on Seadelant, the lair of the beast. The sky above was purple, split with silent lightning emanating from the source of the warp rift which allowed the Daemons access to Seadelant. Ahriman gripped his heqa staff tightly as he stared over the site, eyes sharp and searching for a route in. They had been fortunate, only once had they seen Daemons and they were busy fighting with a lone band of Orks. Ahriman was fine with the two enemies of mankind slaughtering each other instead of the forces of the Imperium.
Now they were at ground zero, and Ahriman was mere minutes away from confronting his nemesis, the one who had blocked his sight and brought this hell to this peaceful world. He rose through the enumerations; he would have to maintain his discipline and his composure if he was to triumph against the foe.

Carefully he crept, or tried to creep across the open ground towards the fence. A creeping Astartes was a mutually exclusive idea, but he reached it undetected.
He gestured to the others to follow him across. He felt bad dragging them into the danger zone like this, but he needed Julius and Summer to show him which building the Daemon was hiding in. Once he knew that, he would have them find shelter and wait for him to finish the Daemon. He would not put their lives at risk; for one he didn’t want to have to explain to Isis how his negligence had killed her boyfriend.

For several seconds he extended his mind across the compound. Nothing. That wasn’t as good as he’d liked, Daemons could pop up at any time in any place, especially this close to the source of their entry point to the material universe.

This time he ran, he ran as fast as he could across the compound. It took less than four seconds. When he looked back, Julius and his friends were frozen, staring at him with fear. He had heard of that happening. They hadn’t seen him like this before, not from close up. Transhuman Dread. Nothing human-shaped should be so fast, so lithe, so powerful, especially not anything in excess of two metres tall and carrying over a ton of armour on his body. Finally they responded to his gestures and followed him across the compound, though much slower than him. He covered them with his bolt pistol as they crossed.
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A gift for the faggots who keeps writing these wonderful pieces of faggotry.
“Which Bunker?” Ahriman whispered harshly. Julius and Summer pointed in unison. They followed Ahriman out towards it, weapons held at the ready. For a brief moment Ahriman thought they had outwitted the Daemon, they would reach the bunker unscathed. He didn’t know if the Daemon read his mind at that exact moment, or if it had been planning its next move all along and was simply waiting for them to enter the trap.

The sky split before him, and three figures burst out into reality. He knew the beasts as they stood before him, contemplating him with evil eyes. Bloodcrushers. Fell servants of the blood god riding mechanical juggernauts which snarled and snapped at the charged air as they readied for a charge. They would crush him under their armoured feet if he wasn’t quick.

“Get behind me!” he yelled as he readied himself for their charge. He heard the sounds of weapons being readied to fire. He didn’t expect any of them to kill one of the Bloodcrushers, but their fire could distract the beasts long enough for him to get in the decisive blow.
They charged, the ground trembling under their fell tread as they thundered towards him. Ahriman waited until the last second before throwing himself aside, swinging his heqa staff in a wide arc. It sliced one of the riders nearly in two, the creature exploding into red sparks under the touch of his weapon. The other Bloodcrushers halted and turned to face him again, but he had his pistol raised and loosened a volley at the lead Bloodcrusher.

>>21025792 Why thank you based Anon.
The shells did little, and the creature charged again. This time he was too slow, and the juggernaut clipped him, sending him flying. He crashed into the side of a building which deformed under his impact, and grunting with the pain he pulled himself up. He rose to his feet just in time as the juggernaut charged again, the rider brandishing its sword. It swung and he parried, blade meeting blade in a shower of sparks. Time and again he swung and thrusted, but every time the creature blocked him. Much as he hated it, he had to admit it was a superb swordsman. Finally he realised something, and once again his heqa staff swept out, its copper and gold bands rippling with fire. But this time it wasn’t aimed at the rider. It cut deep into the juggernaut, which roared and fell under his blow. The rider was now pinned under its dead mount, and a single thrust finished it off. Two down, one to go.

The third and final Bloodcrusher suddenly appeared out of nowhere and caught him head on. He heard his ceramite armour crack under the impact and again he was sent flying. He rolled over to see it preparing another charge. This time, he would not be able to reach his feet in time. The third rider suddenly reeled and fell out of the saddle, exploding into sparks as it hit the ground. The Juggernaut roared before it too expired. Ahriman looked to see Julius and his friends, weapons aimed where the Bloodcrusher had been standing. They had killed it with their fire. Ahriman strode over, and made the gesture of humility with his heqa staff.

“You saved me. Now come, let’s finish this.” With that, he strode towards the bunker, ignoring the pain in his chest from where the juggernaut had struck him.
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I love seeing cute things while just scanning /tg/
The mouth of the bunker lay open before him, a mouth leading into hell. Yet he knew he had to enter it, if this planet was to be saved. He turned to the others.

“You have done well, and you have got me to where I need to be. Now stay here, and keep out of sight.” He turned to go, before stopping.

“Before I go in Julius, here.” He handed over the object he had been carrying on his hip, the object Ir’Sem had given him just before he had left the convoy.
“Captain Ir’Sem gave this to me as a last ditch weapon against the Daemon, but I can banish it without needing this weapon. You should use it, if the worst comes to the worst. It’s a Vortex Grenade. Anything caught in the blast radius is gone, and with the veil between worlds so thin here its potency is increased dramatically. Be wary though, it can easily backfire. Only use it as a weapon of last resort. Good luck.”

Ahriman turned and marched into the corridor, the echo of his bootsteps following him in. ‘I am coming for you hell-spawn’ he thought. ‘And I will have my vengeance.’


Soon the sound of Ahriman as he headed deeper into the bunker faded away, leaving nothing but an almost artificial stillness. The silence was ominous, scary. Julius had never hated silence more than at that point. He had to break it before it drove him mad.
“Did you see how Ahriman killed those metal monsters?” he remarked, sitting in the entrance hallway of the bunker.
There were a few murmured assents, but they swiftly faded and the silence returned. It felt worse than ever; it felt like a weapon, the Daemon was trying to drive them insane with the silence.

Suddenly a thought struck Julius, and he knew he had to share it. “Once Lord Ahriman has killed the Daemon, they will all vanish, the Legions will mop up the Orks and the war will be over.”

“The war will be over.” Scvott repeated softly after a short pause. “It hardly seems possible, after all this time, that by tomorrow it will all be over.” His words captured the mood perfectly. The last month felt like a lot longer, so much had happened to Julius during those thirty short days it felt like several months had passed, not a single month. Within a few hours they would be separated, no longer bound by the ties of comradeship, civilians once again. Julius couldn’t help but feel sad at the thought. He’d lived with and fought beside these people for thirty days, they had become his friends. And Summer, Summer was more than just a friend. He loved her, he could not deny that. He loved her as fervently as he loved Isis, and he had no idea how he could reconcile that once all this was over. He supposed he would find a way, that’s the way life always worked.

“What will you do once the war is over?” Summer suddenly asked, as if she had read his mind. Her words lodged in their minds, and for nearly a minute the dreaded silence returned as they thought about it.

Scvott was the first to break the silence. “I suppose I’ll still try and join the Navy as a fighter pilot, but this time thanks to Julius I’ll be in a much better position to do well as a leader.” He sent a brief smile to Julius, who felt like he’d just been awarded a medal.
Flynn ran his fingers through his hair. “I suppose I’ll continue to run the business, there will be a lot of rebuilding, and Nalwood will be in demand. I might make a profit for the first time in months because of this. Always look on the bright side they say.” He flashed one of his trademark cheeky grins, the first time in a while he had done so.

Dyllion made a vague gesture, but once he saw how the others were looking at him, he relented. “I’ll go back to the docks, back to work I suppose. There will always be a need for Longshoremen, especially now with so much of the workforce out of action, and so many of the cranes damaged in the fighting. Not very glamorous compared to any of you, but life goes on doesn’t it?” his eternal pragmatism struck a chord. Julius had to envy Dyllion and his uncomplicated train of thought. His respect for the silent man only grew.

It was Julius’s turn. What would he do once the war was over? He pondered that question for a bit. There were so many uncertainties in his life now, and with the war nearly over those uncertainties were once again moving to front and centre. “I’m not entirely sure. If I head out for Calth now, I will miss all my friends going to College, University and the rest, they will all be gone by the time I return to Terra. But the reason I left Terra was to go to Calth and see my mother and my home, where I was born, and I don’t want to leave that undone and unfinished.
“Either way, I hope all of you will give me addresses so I can contact you after I’m gone, I’m not about to forget the people who fought with me in the war for Seadelant. You are my friends, my comrades in arms and I will remember you always.”
His words were met by a chorus of backslaps from the others and smiles from the others. Julius felt in the company of giants at that moment, and that feeling he would try to remember in darker times to come.
Finally Summer was the only one left. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word two things happened. A scream came from down the corridor, a sound which chilled Julius to the bone and outside reality tore apart and a host of Daemons materialised before the bunker, murder in their inhuman eyes.

They reacted immediately to the intrusion, Dyllion hefting his heavy stubber and Scvott, Flynn and Summer readying their lasguns. Julius could see immedietly they were in trouble, and Ahriman wasn’t here to help them.

That scream came instantly to mind. “Shouldn’t we do something about Ahriman? That sounded like he needs help!” Julius yelled as the Daemons drew closer.

At that moment Scvott took command. “Julius, Summer, you go and help Lord Ahriman. We will hold off the Daemons here. These are my orders, now hurry!”

Julius threw a salute at Scvott, and together Julius and Summer followed Ahriman’s trail into hell.

They knew the route; it had burned itself into their memories. It wasn’t long before the emerged into the defence laser chamber.

The Defence laser chamber was different now. It was lit with a ruddy red light, and the Cables and conduits were gone. The chains and hoists once used to move the weapon into firing position were now heavy with the skulls of men and Orks. Hellish symbols had been painted in blood all over the walls, snake-like runes and eight pointed stars. There were bloody footprints on the floor, bloody handprints on the walls. It was a scene from the nightmares of a madman.

Ahriman and the Daemon were duelling before the open door of the Plasma Reactor, the source of the hellish light. Heqa staff met bird-headed staff in blow after blow so fast Julius could barely see them. As they fought before them, it seemed as though the combatants had swollen to inhuman proportions many times their real size.

“What do we do?” Summer asked him as they stood there, numbly watching the titanic clash.

Ahriman saw them and briefly looked over. It was only for a split second, but his Daemonic foe only needed that.

A swing of the bird-headed staff, and Ahriman was sent sprawling. As he struggled to his feet, he yelled at Julius.

“Julius! The Daemon’s too strong! It must be weakened! Use that Grenade, destroy the Reactor! That’s the source of the Daemon’s power! That's how it's maintaining the Warp Rift! Destroy it and I can banish the bastard!”
Julius nodded, thinking fast. He drew his pistol and ran. Something struck him across the shoulder and flung him aside like he was a rag doll. He struggled to his feet, only to be sent flying again. He could not see what had flung him across the room, there was nothing else in here save for him, Summer, Ahriman and the Daemon. She raised her Lasgun to shoot, but a moment later it was snatched from her grip by invisible hands and flung aside. It was powerful indeed, more powerful than he had expected. But then, what could you expect from a Daemon?
Julius turned and ran again, but this time he had an idea. He felt for the touch of the Daemon, the tug of invisible fingers, and no sooner did he feel the prickling feeling on his skin than he straight away hit the deck. He began to crawl for the open door, hoping that down here the Daemon couldn’t touch him. His hope was shattered when he felt a pain in his leg, and turned to see a sliver of metal impaled in it. More metal fragments were flying at him, and as he pulled himself up to run a wall of invisible force smashed him aside.

The Daemon is toying with him, torturing him for its own amusement while it battles with Ahriman. Julius didn’t know what to do, what he could do to stop a creature with powers beyond his darkest nightmares. Ahriman continued to duel with it, but he was tiring, the Daemon landing several blows against his armour, cracking it with every strike. He wouldn’t last long, and without him they couldn’t survive. The planet couldn’t survive.
Before he could make another move he saw Summer dash out, twisting and turning as she headed for Julius. He felt the vortex surrounding him weaken, and he knew this was his chance. He reached down, pulled the metal sliver out of his leg and ignoring the pain shooting up his leg he ran. He thought he had run hard when he had escaped the Brass Scorpion, but now he ran even harder. His body was wracked with pain; he could hear the whisper of the warp and feel invisible fingers probing for him, trying to grip him. But the Daemon couldn’t focus on all three of them at once, and Summer seemed to understand that. She lunged for her discarded Lasgun and fired several shots. None of them hit, but they distracted the Daemon for a few seconds. That was all Julius needed. The reactor blast doors loomed before him.

He pulled the pin and threw the Vortex Grenade with all of his might into the reactor room, pulling the door shut behind him. His eyes shut as a flash of light came from within, and the Daemon shrieked, a sound which grated in Julius’s mind. He had done it, the Reactor was gone, the source of the Warp Rift removed. Next second a blow of invisible force flung him high into the air. As he hit the ground he felt his cracked ribs snap and pain tore into him with a vengeance.

Through blurred vision he saw the Daemon hovering before him. He had destroyed the reactor and foiled its plans, now it would kill him. Ahriman was sprawled out nearby; it had knocked him aside in its desire to get at Julius. He felt his skin crawl at the mere presence of the Daemon. It was polluting the galaxy just by being in it.
“I renounce you, evil one,' Julius stammered. He touched the symbol hanging around his neck. The Daemon didn’t respond or even seem to notice his action; it raised the bird headed staff for the killing blow.

A shadow fell over it before it could strike. Summer stood before it, confronting the abomination. She held the symbol of her faith out in front of her in one hand, her Lasgun in the other. Julius wanted to yell at her to run, to get away, but his tongue wasn’t working.
She tried to shoot it, but it contemptuously knocked her Lasgun aside. It readied to strike at her.

‘The Emperor protects!’ she screamed at the Daemon.

As she screamed that oath to her god, something changed. The silver Aquila suddenly blazed in her hand, thrust before her like a talisman aimed at the Daemon. White fire poured from it, bathing the Daemon in white light which battled with its own blue light, slowly consuming it.

“The power of the Emperor commands you, abomination!” she yelled at it.

Julius could do little but watch in amazement as she slowly took one step, and then another, towards the Changeling, pushing it back. The monster was transfixed, its four limbs flailing as though some invisible force attacked it; its screeching laughter turning into the pitiful wails of a monster denied its victory.
“In the name of the Emperor, go back to hell and stay there!” Summer commanded, her confidence in the miracle surrounding her growing as the substance of the monster diminished, its internal hell-light fading and flickering as it fought to hold onto existence. The light from Summer’s eagle outshone its hellish illumination tenfold and the entire massive space was bleached with its brilliance. Even Ahriman was staring in wonder as she blasted the Daemon to eternity. She had done it; she had killed it where Ahriman had not.

The Daemon still had one last trick up its sleeve, and as it disintegrated it threw a final ball of warp-fire at her. Time slowed down, Julius could only watch in horror as it flew towards her, as slow and inexorable as death itself. She noticed it too late. The fireball caught her between her breasts, sinking through her body armour and disappearing into her. For a second, it seemed like it had done nothing to her, but as she light from her Aquila pendant faded, she began to sway.

“Please...” she whispered as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor. Barely knowing what he was doing, Julius ran over to her, catching her, lifting her up, holding her close.

He tore off her flak vest and ripped open her bodyglove, not caring who saw. There was no mark on her skin where the daemonfire had hit her, nothing to suggest it had harmed her. His tongue had returned to him, and he couldn’t stop talking.

“Summer, hold on Summer. You’ll be alright. You did it, you killed the Daemon. You saved Seadelant, you saved Ahriman, you saved me. You’ll be hailed as the heroine of Seadelant, the one who saved us all.”

“Don’t say a word. You need to conserve your strength. The Thousand Sons are here, the Pavoni are the greatest healers in the Galaxy. They will take care of you. Just hold on tight, I’m right here with you.”


“Don’t think it! Don’t even think it!” her voice, so soft and tired was hurting him. He continued to yell, as if the decibel level of his voice could hold back the inevitable.

“There are no marks on your skin, so you can’t be hurt! You’re fine, you’re just tired, that’s all. You killed a Daemon; of course you’d feel tired.”


“You can’t! You mustn’t I won’t let you! I won’t let you go! Not now, not at the moment of victory. We’ve fought together for the last thirty days, and we’ll fight together again. You just have to hold on, hold on!”


“No!” Why was she acting like this? Why was she not fighting? “No! I love you!”

“Julius.” Her voice had not changed an iota despite his rising despair. “I know you do. And I know you love another as well, and she will need you. You must be there for her always. I was a vessel for The Emperor’s will, but he has burned me up. My fire is going out Julius, the Emperor has summoned me.”

“Don’t speak like that Summer; the Emperor isn’t finished with you yet. I’m not finished with you yet. You can’t go; you can’t leave me here, not like this.”
Summer reached up and slowly and longingly kissed him, a kiss which he deliberately stretched out for as long as he could, as if he could force life back into her through his lips. Eventually she broke it; put a finger to his lips to stop him saying anything before reaching over and pulling the Aquila from around her neck.

“One does not question the Emperor’s will Julius. Surely you know that.” She coughed gently, the fire in her eyes flickered, wavered.

She pressed her Aquila into his hands, closing them around the symbol of her faith. “Keep this, and remember me. Tell Isis about me, she deserves to know. Always remember Julius, the…Emperor…Protects.” The last word left her mouth like a faint breeze, and her body slackened. The fire went out of her eyes, the fire which filled her soul was snuffed out.

At that moment Julius felt his soul break, a pain so pure it hurt him all the way to his core. He searched for his god, but He wasn’t there. He searched for the Emperor, but he wasn’t there. He held Summer in his arms, her body already beginning to cool, and he screamed out over her, all the pain and anguish of thirty days of war released in a single traumatic shriek as he felt his soul tear.
I feel so bad right now, I feel like such an Arsehole. Is anyone reading this, do they agree?
so long as her death is not meaningless then you may continue, if you killed her "just cause' " then yes you would be an arsehole

but i'm looking forward to the isis- julius reunion

Agreed fellow anon, death in the context of a story has to be meaningful. Otherwise, yeah that's a pretty bad move to pull off.
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Goodnight sweet princess
Aaaaaand back.
Below in the lounge, Lieutenant Kines looked unhappily at the remaining stockpile of alcohol in his O-Club bar. It looked like it had been used for target practice.
“I suppose the Royal Daughters at least are too young to drink,” he said.
One of the fighter pilots at the bar glanced over his shoulder as two familiar red points of light appeared over at the hatch. “Say, speaking of,” he said.
Kines looked up and smiled as the five teens made their way through the room. “Sirs, Ladies Primarch, welcome back,” he said.
“Hello, Chuck,” Remilia said. She glanced around the room. “Looks a bit different,” she said. Indeed, several small pieces of carpeting had been cut out from the floor in places.
“There was a bit of damage in here from the ship rocking about in the atmosphere,” Kines said. “I wasn’t here, I was manning one of the firefighting teams, but one of the Death Guard Terminators was, thankfully. Or my stock would be even more depleted,” he sighed.
“What?” Jake asked.
“After the battle, we put in over the capital for quick repairs. Mine was probably the only working bar outside the capital’s inner city,” he said with a rueful grin. “Sold about ninety percent of the alcohol on the ship that day.”
Jake laughed, sliding into a seat. “So I imagine. You still have some non-alcoholic drinks left, I hope?”
“Sure, if you like cola and water,” Kines said. Jake shrugged.
“Water works.”
“By the way,” Kines said, pouring drinks for them all, “you’ll never guess who I met.”
“Who?” Remilia asked as the others took their drinks.
I... actually started crying there for a moment.

There's just something in that scene that tugs real bad on my hearstrings. And my winamp just happened to play http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9wjdVUjt3c when i read it.
“Julius Pius,” Kines said. “He sat right there where you’re sitting, Remilia,” he said, pointing at her seat.
“Really? Wow. Small galaxy,” Remilia said. “Is he all right?”
Kines hesitated. “Not…really, no,” he said. “He took the battle hard.”
Remilia nodded glumly. “I see. Well…we’ll see him on Terra. I’m sure he can talk to us then.”
The fighter pilot nodded his thanks to the bartender and stood, heading out to the hatch. As soon as he was out of earshot, Remilia sighed into her glass with a longing air, and he struggled to keep a smile off his face. “I’ll be around all evening, if you wish to return after dinner,” he said. “I just opened. It’s pretty early in the duty rotation right now.”
“I think we will,” Venus said for them all. “But for now, you mind if we just stick around and talk?”
“Of course not, Venus,” Kines said with a professional smile. “It’s your ship.”
The hours passed, as Kines retold his own, meager part of the battle – that is, waiting for fires to start – and the teens recounted Fenris’ many dangers. Kines seemed particularly interested in the descriptions of King Russ’ side trips with the group, like when they had gone mammoth-watching from the back of a gunship, or when they had visited a field training camp of Great Company Tra.
When lunch rolled around, the group simply ate in, enjoying the company of the few officers who wandered in every so often, trading stories with those brave enough to speak. By late afternoon, though, the mortal two fifths of the party were starting to feel the day’s length, and the ten hour flight to the ship was catching up to them. They retired to their own rooms, where they could compose messages to be sent home before they left the Fenris system.
As they reached their own cabin, Jake’s slate beeped. He opened it and smirked. “Excellent. Move-in dates, the RA’s name, local contact data, a map of the town, confirmation of shared residence, some coupons for nearby restaurants, a parking pass for you…just in time.”
Venus peered over his shoulder. “Perfect. Any messages from home?”
“One for you,” Jake said, glancing over her slate as well. “Looks like a message from Farah.”
Venus brought it up. “Hmm. Looks like Johor got a job at the Embassy. That’s cool…aaaand Farah says she’s already hyped up for her trip, and will be leaving…right after we get home. Guess she wanted to go see her mom early.” She paged down. “Aww, that’s sweet.”
“What is?” Jake asked.
She showed him the slate. “They’re having a going-away party for those of us that are headed off to school, the day after we get back. Mom and Dad are going to ‘surprise’ me with the car.”
“Awesome,” Jake said. He grinned at the brief message. “Your parents are great, you know that? Just up and giving you a car like that.”
“Well, I’m paying for part of it, but yeah.” Venus took the slate back and switched it off. “Listen, Roemer said we had the night, so I think I’ll just eat in. Order something up from the kitchen and chow down here. Sound okay?”
“Sure,” Jake said, switching his slate off. “I suspect Remilia’s gonna want to go to the bar, though. Alex and Freya might, too.”
“I’m not up for it, really,” Venus said evasively. “You can.”
“Nah, I’ll just hang here,” he said idly, searching for a menu. “Hope the kitchen survived the battle.”
Freya and Alex sat across from Remilia in the officer’s mess, watching the crew as they ate. A few of the Naval personnel seemed downcast, even given that the battle had been a week previous. Others, however, seemed pleased, with the kind of bare patches on their uniforms that suggested recent promotions, while others yet seemed on the verge of falling over from exhaustion. Technicians and mechanics from the repair crews, no doubt.
“Never seen the aftermath of a battle like this before,” Remilia said quietly.
A few members of the ship’s security detail patrolled the outer parts of the room. The lengthy tables were packed with officers, though in what was becoming a trend, not one actually stopped to talk to them.
“Wonder if anyone has a copy of that video of us sparring,” Remilia said drily.
Freya laughed. “Probably not. And if they did, who gives a shit?”
Alex downed his water, looking at the officers around them. “If they’re here, I’d wager the club is pretty empty,” he said. “You two want to whip me raw at darts after dinner?”
“Sure,” Freya said happily. “You may even pick something up this time. Like a dart.”
“I know, right?” Alex sighed. “I’m so bad at that game. How can I kick a rugby ball into a target the size of a fruitbasket, but not hit a dartboard?”
Yay, Kines's back!
Above, Kines wiped down the bar, trying not to sweat under the appraising glare of Haarlan, who had been sitting at the counter chatting with one of the other officers for several minutes at this point. True to Venus’ word, no sign of punishment for his affair with Remilia seemed forthcoming, and given the combat the ship had seen, it seemed a minor complaint. Still, a straight-laced Political Officer like Haarlan could carry a grudge like it had handles and a shoulderstrap.
Relief arrived in the form of three of the teens, who made their way over to the dartboard and started playing. Haarlan, loyal and obsequious political officer that he was, was distracted enough by their presence that Remilia was able to walk right up to the bar and sit down before he even noticed.
“Hi, Lieutenant,” she said, taking the proffered cola.
“Evening, ma’am…Remilia,” he said, adding the ‘mistake’ of referring to her formally for Haarlan’s sake. Then, she had used his own title for the same reason. “Will Lord Seager and Lady Venus not be joining us?”
“I suspect that they’re just tired. Long flight from Fenris,” Remilia said.
“Sure. We would have sent a lander of our own, of course, but, well…the hangar,” Kines explained.
“Naturally. The Wolves were happy to accommodate.” She sipped her drink and set it on a coaster. “Ever worked with the Wolves before?”
“Nope, neither Space nor Luna,” Kines said. “In fact before the dinner in Skarokk, I don’t think I’d ever even seen one.”
“It’s memorable, isn’t it?” Haarlan put in. “I wonder if there will be any Imperial Fist Techmarines in the team they send to repair the ship.” He looked over to Remilia. “Ordinarily a Salamander Legionary ship will put in at Corprus or Kar Duniash for repairs, but since our destination is Terra anyway, we’ll just put in at Mars.”
“So Captain Roemer tells me,” Remilia said. She ran her finger along the rim of the glass, looking at the melting ice. “I admit I was surprised the ship was called spaceworthy enough to transport us so soon after a battle. What was the casualty count aboard the Tide?” she asked.
Haarlan shook his head. “Minimal. Around six crewers, and one of the Space Marines we took aboard was injured.”
“That’s too bad,” she said softly. “Will there be a formal ceremony?”
“We already had one, ma’am,” Kines said solemnly. “It was the first full day after we entered the Warp.”
“Oh.” Remilia looked down into her glass. “Sorry to turn the tone maudlin.”
Haarlan graciously dismissed her apology. “It was kind of you to ask.”
As the evening approached, and Haarlan finally found his presence needed elsewhere, Remilia passed the look she had been harboring the entire night to Kines over the rim on her glass, which he returned with a wink. With that, their entire exchange concluded, and the group broke up an hour later, Kines staying behind to work, and Alex and Freya heading up to their room. Remilia made straight for her room, as well, checking discreetly as she did that the box of condoms Venus had left her wasn’t spent.
Next door, as Venus and Jake cleaned up the detritus of their meal, they and every other person aboard felt the characteristic lurch as the ship accelerated. Jake brushed his hands free of breadcrumbs and rose from the table. “That’s it. Homeward bound.”
“Yep.” Venus dropped onto the bed and cushioned her head in her hands. “It’ll feel good to be back, even if it’s only for a day or so.”
“Sure will.” Jake stretched. “Would you mind if I invite someone to this going-away party?” he asked.
“Some friends of mine from middle school, and other guys from the hive,” Jake said. “I want the chance to say goodbye, you know?”
Venus stared up at the ceiling. “Sure, if you want. The party’s information is on the slate.” She rolled to her feet and rose. “I have a slightly more urgent need, though.”
Jake looked over at her. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. She slowly stood and walked up to him, unclasping the buttons on her shirt as she approached. “Dunno about you, but I have the funniest feeling…like I haven’t had an orgasm in a month, despite sharing a bed with my boyfriend the whole time.”
Jake grinned from ear to ear and slid his hands under the fabric of her bra to cup her breasts. “Oddest thing, that. Contagious, I suspect,” he said. He started to lead her to the bed, when she paused him.
“Jake. Baby. Sit down,” she said flatly. Somewhat confused, he did so.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
Venus’ eyes flickered brighter as she gently pushed him back on the bed, until he was lying flat on his back. “Not at all,” she said. “But, see, I’ve been dry as long as you have. Trust me,” she said softly, running one warm hand over his cheek. “I’m driving tonight.”
>could carry a grudge like it had handles and a shoulderstrap.
I like that expression, I must find a way to use it somehow...
I'm gonna need both hands for this
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bumping with all the daughters (NOW AVAILABLE IN COLOR!)
My god, it's been three fucking years but someone finally did it! Thanks so much! That's my new background.
GLORIOUS COLOR! It's like the motherfucking Wizard of Oz up in this bitch.
Wasn't me who colored it. Well, i did add in the colored victoria from a separate piece i found but that was waaaaay back. I just found the fully colored pic in a drawthread about two weeks ago.

So the thanks goes to an unknown drawfag.
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>this thread
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DAT redhead Furia
DAT Hana

...I think i just pic related.

That is awesome. If only I wasn't on shitty Dial-Up, I would make it my background as well.
No sign of DarkMage?

I want more Furiah feels
Remilia leaned sideways against Kines’ shoulder as he reclined against the headboard, feeling her racing heart slow. She smiled as he ran a playful hand over her leg and squeezed, tickling her. She slapped his arm away. “Quit it,” she giggled.
He kissed the crown of her head. “Do I have to?” he asked.
She grabbed his hand and rested it in her lap. “There.”
He gently ran his fingers over her soft skin, smiling fondly. “Don’t mind saying it, Remilia…I was wondering where you were when we were fighting the Orks,” he said softly.
She chuckled. “I was thinking of you, too, when we were getting attacked by krakenspawn on Fenris. Funny, huh?”
“Is it?” he asked. She eased down onto her back as he spoke, pulling away from his hand. “I was wondering if I’d ever get to see you again.”
“That’s sweet,” she said, smiling at the thought. She grabbed the hand that rested beside her head and idly played with it. “I was just thinking of what I wanted to see when it was over.” She bought his fingers to her lips and kissed one. “Life-threatening danger makes you amorous. Who knew?”
He laughed aloud at that and slid down next to her. “I think it’s more about finding something distracting.”
She smiled against his fingers, running her thumbs across his palm. “Yeah.”
He rolled onto his side and pulled the covers up to her stomach, then wrapped his arms around her shoulders briefly. “Good night,” he said softly.
alt255 alt255 alt30
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I'm around, just out of material. I doubt I'll have anything new by the end of this thread, sorry. I am writing stuff up for the next one, so you just need to be patient.
“Wait,” she said as he gestured at the lights. “Can we just talk for a bit?”
He let his hand fall back down. “Sure. Can’t promise I won’t fall asleep, though,” he added, stifling a yawn. “You wore me out.”
“A month stuck in a building with several tens of thousands of Space Marines with superhuman noses,” Remilia said.
“Don’t even want to think about it,” Kines said. “What did you want to talk about?”
She thought for a moment. “I’m headed off to college, you know. What was it like?”
“College? Well…I dunno, I went to a shitty little tech school in the middle of West Ballsack, Nowhere. You’re going to the most prestigious liberal arts school in the Segmentum,” Kines pointed out. “Hardly comparable.”
“I guess so,” Remilia admitted. “But was it fun?”
He hesitated. “Not really. But they rush you through. Get your class list, get your books, go go go.” He smiled at her again. “Like I said. You get to take your time.”
“Yeah.” Remilia nodded, pondering that.
“Listen, gorgeous, I’d love to chat, but I really do need to turn in,” he said, yawning again. “Talk to you tomorrow, for sure, all right?” he asked.
“Right.” She pecked him on the cheek, slid her lips down to his, and lingered. He stroked her cheek as she held the kiss for a moment. “Good night,” she whispered, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
A few days later, the group reassembled in the O-club one afternoon to plan logistics. Remilia would have to take off nearly as soon as the party ended, but Venus and Jake would have nearly a week to prepare, and Freya and Alex about half that. The Captain had already told them that they would be docking on a small repair platform on Mars’ orbital ring, then taking a lander to Startseite.
Remilia glanced over their manifest, which Roemer had included with their timetable. “How in the world did I manage to pack this much stuff by myself?” she asked rhetorically.
“Three months looks much longer at the start,” Alex said sagely.
“True that,” she sighed. She set her slate down and glanced over to where Venus and Jake were hunched over their own slates, trying to coordinate transportation of their junk to the college. “How are you two looking?”
“Pretty good,” Venus said under her breath. “I think I would probably be better off using Dad’s truck for moving the holo…and you’re just going to leave your computer home, right?”
“Yeah, use it as a home computer and build a better one with the money Remilia gave me,” Jake said distractedly. He finally tapped the screen of his own slate. “All right! Rides are arranged. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said to Venus.
“Not a problem,” Venus acknowledged him. “The Treasury guys will need to clear you, but I imagine security’s lowered this long after the shooting.”
“I think so, too,” Remilia said. “I’ll be taking one of Dad’s aircars on a cruise over the hives, it looks like. It’s a seven hour flight, but whatever. I’ll just nap.”
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“Hell of a flight, but do me a favor while you’re out there?” Jake asked.
“Take a holo of the hive skin as you fly over it,” Jake said. “There’s hive spires that break the skin out there to give the upper crust some sunlight in places, and I always wanted to know what they looked like.”
“Sure.” Remilia closed down her own slate and reached for her water. “You guys know what you’re gonna do for those few days you get before orientation?” she asked.
Freya’s lips quirked downward for an instant before she brought herself under control. “I think we’re going to stay in Startseite for a while, at first, but then I want to go see my Grandmother in the hospital.”
“And I want to go visit my mother, too,” Alex said. “Before she sells the house.”
Jake looked up at him. “Where in the hive is she going?”
“Top crust. One of the spires. The place is supposed to be nice, but…I haven’t heard from her in weeks. Even after I sent the message that detailed everything that happened,” Alex admitted. “I’m a bit worried.”
Venus nodded in sympathy. “In the Warp, message delivery is never fluid. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Yeah.” Alex sighed heavily. “I’m just afraid the reason I haven’t heard from her is that the money she managed to wrangle from Dad is all run out, and she can’t afford Astropathy.”
“Then she’ll be fine,” Freya said firmly, cutting off the discussion before Alex could depress himself. “Believe me. We’ll see her when we see her.”
“Isn’t this the first time you’ll have met her?” Alex asked.
“Sure is,” Freya said. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Jake spoke up. “A few of my old friends from the hives will be attending the going-away party, but only if it’s all right with you guys,” he said. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to have strangers at the party.”
“Doesn’t bother me any, and it’s a big place,” Remilia said, referring to the hotel ballroom Roberta had rented. “Shame Farah has to bolt right after.”
“Yeah, I wanted to catch up,” Venus said remorsefully. “Show her my new outfit.”
“Hey, show up to the party in the outfit,” Jake said, half-joking. “Blow people’s minds.”
Venus chuckled. “I think I may just bring the holo of me in it that you took. How about you, Freya? Wearing the furs?”
“You bet your ass,” Freya said happily. “I’ve been dying to show them off.”
Remilia shook her head. “I have no costume,” she said with a dramatic sigh.
“Bah, you look good all the time anyway,” Jake teased. “Besides, one less thing to pack. Don’t you have to leave that very night?”
“Ugh, yes. Packing like a mad woman. Unless Mom had one of the butlers do it for me, I should have asked,” Remilia said.
I hope she's ok for Alex's sake.
Funny thing that, my dad was an asshole who renounced contact with me and my mom is recently divorced and is very short on cash and have to consider moving into a flat when she retires in a few years.
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Damn it, why do my stories always bring the people with shattered homes out of the woodworks?
“I have so little stuff to bring, I would be happy to help you out,” Jake offered.
“That’s sweet of you, but I should do this,” Remilia said. “I need to talk to Mom alone anyway,” she reflected.
The pretty blond soccer player finished her water and wandered over to the bar. Kines spotted her coming and refilled the glass. “All ready to head out when the time comes, ma’a…Remilia?” he asked for the public’s benefit. He certainly had no problem remembering not to call her by a formal title when it mattered by this point.
“Nope, few last-minute hiccups here and there,” Remilia said. She sipped at her water and discreetly glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Determining that there wasn’t, she offered him the sly little wink that had become their password, and he eagerly returned it as he would have be insane not to do. She set the glass down and sat on the stool, allowing normal conversation to replace innuendo. “So, Lieutenant, if you don’t mind me asking. What do you see yourself doing after your tour ends?”
“Well, Remilia, I’m thinking I may get out as soon as I legally can, like I must have told you,” Kines said. His light brown hair bobbed over the counter as he reached down to turn on the ice maker. “But after that? Open a bar. Maybe in the spaceport back home on Totnis. Start a family, if I can.”
Remilia smiled. “I suspect you’ll find that an easy prospect, Chuck.”
Kines blushed faintly. “Thanks.” He fiddled with a glass, wiping it down. “I think the fighting over Seadelant got to me a bit. I just want to get out. I never asked to join up, anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t intend to jump ship, and I do like this job, but it’s certainly not my life.”
You make it sound like there were drug abused and violence in the family. There were lack of parents though with mom busting her ass to support me and my sister.
maybe because we can relate to your stories?

let's just say both I and my wife are ex-cutters, and she has cut off all ties to her parents since they are total jerks to her. So i can related both to Remilia and to Alex on a very personal level.
Your writing and characters are just very relateable, I think.

Hell, I had a bit of that myself, although admittedly in a less tragic manner. I'm from Cape Cod, and I must admit I felt some kinship with the Nocturneans and their general opinion of tourists.
>I and my wife are ex-cutters
>and she has cut off all ties
I feel kinda like an asshole for giggling.
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People will always post related stuff.
Write about point and click adventures and people will start talking about the coming release of the second part of the Deponia trilogy.
I you wrote about food you would have us discussing food and cooking.
This cannot come to you as much of a surprise.
no probs man. Now that i re-read it i kinda facepalmed at my choice of worlds there.
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Well...as odd as it is, that's a wrap folks. All three of us have completely spent our buffers of fresh material. See you on the Ninteenth of October.

By mister sir! Hope to see you again soon!
We still have a few posts before the buffer fills, so we'd ask for some feedback and comments.

Furia's run off, Julius's heart is broken and Venus and co are heading home. What are your thoughts on this?

Plus upvotes. some arseholes keep voting down the thread in the Archives. Why do they always do that?

>oceedern unprinciplied
Captcha has it.
Some asshole has been downvoting a bunch of writefag threads lately. Mostly the harem knights threads and these ones.
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I have to wonder why they do that.

Oh well.

Have a Cora and a Kelly.
Man, life does all kinds of shit to you when you're a wee spawn, and you carry that 'til you're done with life.

Also, I've been catching up, and the lot of you are markedly improving. Practice does indeed make proficient.

Furia's story is terrific, both for it's expression and concepts, and for jumping the rails of her expected life. There's a real epic waiting to happen there.

On somewhat of an opposite note Summer's death seemed kind of predictable -kind of side-story wrap-up typical return-to-the-status-quo situation.
I don't think for a second that's what was intended, but that's the end result imho. For a very "perfect" kind of person like Isis not having the thing she most wants is maddening, and in that frustration is growth -whether positive or negative.
Also, I'm be interested in seeing Julius fail a little more. He's the legendary son of a legendary soldier -his saving the day's kind of rote and plausible. Everyone he cared about (except the plot-troublesome Summer-romance girl) survived...there's kind of lack of conflict in that resolution.
Just something to chew on.

I'm glad to hear of more Emperasque down the road, and the 19th is on my calendar now.
Hey, glad you could make it, Iron Lung. Yeah, the next one should be just after noon on the Friday after next.
I like your stories and my childhood was fine.

So there's that.
You make good points, but the story is not done yet.

And as for the status quo, obviously you’ve never heard of this quote: "In war, there are no unwounded soldiers."

Julius is not going to come out of this in a good shape at all. I haven't spent months researching the effects of PTSD for nothing. Wait until next time...
Alrighty, I'm interested, bring the heat AA!
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And that's the bump limit. Good night, folks, we'll see you in two weeks.
She's so perky and cute :3

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