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I decided one day that I should solidify the ideas about what made up my Chaos Space Marines through a narrative. So, I wrote a little bit. Then I wrote some more. Then I showed my friends, and they didn't get it, so I kept writing. Well, today I realised I have this mass of fan fiction gathering dust on my hard-drive. I already know the story, and I even know the bits that aren't written down, so it isn't doing me any good sitting there. So, I've decided to show you guys. This story is divided into three parts, which feature Nikolii at different stages of his life: The Child, The Fall, and The Aftermath. They were all written at about the same time, so I figured I'd show you a section from each and see which you like most.

The Child
The child floated through the Bad Place. He curled up into a ball and cried as the creatures swirled around him. Their faces leered at the boy, their tongues and claws swept out towards him. They wanted to consume him, to take his soul and torture it, to savor the loss of purity and sanity. They reached for him, but, once again, they could not touch him. The cruel limbs of the creatures flowed over and around the child.

Soft earth met his naked body. He uncurled himself, lying on his back; the child was unsurprised to be gazing into alien stars and foliage. The child stood and examined this strange new place. There were many twisting trunks surrounding him, with red, patchy moss covering their lower sections. Colorful bushes grew between the trees, and small winged insects danced on their leaves.

His young mind had learned to identify danger instinctually, and he knew he was safe for the moment. The child had been in this situation throughout his short life and knew he must find water. He began to climb a tree to gain a vantage point. At the top the child could see an expanse of blue tinted, fanned leaves. The darkness was too complete to make out anything more than that, so he scurried back down the tree, discouraged that he was unable to get a bearing.

The hairs on the nape of his neck prickled. He heard the muted sounds of foliage brushing against fur, and knew that he was not alone. Yet, the child was not scared. Although many beasts had tried to hurt him, he had stopped them all and was not afraid of this one, whatever it may be. He lifted his arm and pointed towards the disturbance, waiting for the creature to show itself. The creature, a snarling tusked thing, coated in bristles, lunged at him from the bushes, just as he knew it would. He reached within himself and let force flow out through his hand. There was a thunderous crack and the creature was splattered all over the clearing.

The child, now coated in blood, began the task of gathering any edible meat scattered in the clearing. This routine was as natural to him as breathing. He ate until he was full, and when he was finished wandered off into the forest. The child knew he must begin his search for water, and if he did not stay active weariness would set in. Then he would fall into the comfortable darkness, and be back in the Bad Place, only to start this process all over again.
___________________________

The Fall
The dust had yet to settle, though the conflict had been brief. It was a strange thing to notice, given the carnage all around and the duties he had still to perform. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for this task. One mistake would take the lives of himself and his Sternguard. Despite this, his battle brothers stood close and vigilant. However, their gaze was not cast outwards, but on the point Nikolii focused.

Nikolii reached inward, and carefully began to unwind the barrier of the materium. A deep scar began to form in what seemed to be thin air. It expanded, slowly at first, but picked up momentum as it voraciously consumed the bodies of the orks, and with them any possibility of spreading their tainted seed. The portal’s task complete, Nikolii began the even more dangerous task of closing it. He had to be quick, before any otherworldly bodies recognized the opportunity he presented them.

A shadow passed over Nikolii’s mind, and he raised his hand in warning. The portal began to distort, and a large, scaled claw pushed itself through the small space. Immediately Vengeance Rounds pounded into it, blowing off fingers and chunks of flesh before the whole gory mess was pulled back into the Warp as the portal closed.

“That was a big one, Nikolii,” Sergeant Goliath warned.

“They’re all big ones. We still have a task set before us, and I intend to see it through.” Nikolii glanced up at the Sergeant. He was large, even for a Space Marine, but his keen mind and steady hands lent themselves better to bolter than a chainsword. Even still, he carried a well worn chainaxe slung over his shoulder should the enemy close on his squad. It was good that he did, as this mission called for very close fighting.

At the end of the clearing the trees were tilted in as the ground rose into a hill. “That hill will provide a vantage point. With any luck we can spot the Warboss and put an end to this quickly.” Nikolii said as he started off at a brisk gait toward the hill and the eight Sternguard followed suit.

They were making unusually slow progress through the foliage. The forest had grown quickly since the last time Nikolii was out here. In some places he had to resort to pushing the bushes aside with his force staff. Halfway up the hill they began to hear a rhythmic murmuring, alien to the quiet of the forest. “It sounds like we’re close,” commented Graid, as he checked his weapon.

By the time the squad finally pushed through the last of the trees to the top of the hill, their black armor was covered with the remains of low hanging vines and the sap of shrubs. Graid was the first to reach the crest of the hill and he let out of a low whistle. There were thousands of the orks in the other valley, clearing away a huge section of the forest and using the lumber to build a massive fort. Graid detached his bolter’s scope and passed it to Nikolii. With it Nikolii was able to spot the Warboss. It was a huge beast, even compared to the orks swarming around him. He wandered around, barking orders and motioning to the various places along the wall as orks scurried to complete his instructions.

“What are your orders, Nikolii?” Sergeant Goliath asked.

Nikolii paused, weighing his options. “I’ll have the Captain purge them from orbit. In the mean time, we have to kill that Warboss. His force isn’t large enough to take the city, but I’d rather avoid any unnecessary panic.” He passed back the scope. “Using the Gate of Infinity is too risky right now. Graid, are you up to the task?”

A rueful smile spread across Graid’s lips as he found the Warboss through the scope. “Oh yes, this will be easy,” he said, replacing the scope on his bolter. He foraged through a large pouch on his belt and began producing various extensions and suppressers which he attached to his bolter. He moved to a rocky out-crop and removed his upper armor, allowing him to more easily get into a prone stance. Graid was formerly a Scout Sergeant and one of the best snipers in the company, but after his entire squad was killed in combat he finally decided to accept the standing invitation to Nikolii’s Sternguard, and he enjoyed any opportunity to use his old skills.

Some of the younger Sternguard waited eagerly for the shot. After several minutes, Graid loaded one of the last few Turbo Penetrator rounds he had left into his modified bolter. The anticipation was infectious, and even Goliath was on edge. Finally, there was a thunderous crack and a huge commotion broke out in the middle of the ork horde. Graid stood, smiling to himself, and began replacing his gear. “I swear, the thing looked right at me as I took the shot,” he chuckled.

“Aye, that should keep the orks busy. They’ll have to sort out a new boss before they get anything done. That’ll leave plenty of time for the Cathedral of Hate to bring its guns to bear. Hethos, send the coordinates to the battlebarge and have them send a Thunderhawk to retrieve us at the drop off.” Goliath ordered, resuming his rhythm of command. Its mission complete, the squad began the march to the retrieval zone.
___________________________

The Aftermath
Nikolii watched the flickering lights on the planet below. Even from high orbit he could see the intensity of the fighting, and that the humans were being pushed back. The lights were becoming less frequent, converging on a fortress city by the coast. Preliminary scans showed it was the only bastion left unmolested. It was unlike them to ignore any stronghold of resistance. Their goals were so simple and constant, and within the confines of those rules they had no reason to coral the humans together.

A loud banging on the hallway bulk head interrupted Nikolii’s train of thought. He turned from the massive circular window and opened the door to his quarters. His eyes were immediately met with Goliath’s armored collar. Goliath’s left hand held various reports and data, while his mangled right arm was still partially raised. It had been ravaged by the Obliterator virus before Nikolii was able to win the cure. He was in full battle gear which betrayed the contents of the reports.

“So, is this our prey?”

“Not quite. They split again, leaving a fragment to ravage this world. I’m beginning to wonder if they do this purposefully, to slow our advance,” Goliath reported.

“It is irrelevant. We are catching up to them, but for now we’ll have to vent our frustrations on this planet. If we don’t, their tainted seed will blossom, and we’ll have yet another fleet to chase. I assume you’ve already held a war council.”

“Blackmoore’s Mechanicus cult has been able to identify a great automated forge. It has yet to be over run and may yield new equipment. At the very least we’ll be able to resupply there. We can fortify the human forces of the planet to build good will, making recruitment easier for Blackmoore. However, I think a strike at the beast’s heart is best. I’ve found several key spawning pools and control nodes. Destroying them would disrupt the enemy’s reinforcement and control, making the other objectives easier to achieve.”

“I couldn’t care less about the population of this world. Bombard the nodes and spawning pools closest to the forge. Deploy Blackmoore’s horde to clean up the stragglers and secure the forge. I’ve not murdered anything in the better part of a month. Ready the men and prepare drop pods. Find the most heavily defended target you can and lock in coordinates,” Nikolii ordered, and Goliath nodded as he backed into the hallway. The door slid back into place with a hiss.

Nikolii stood, his back against the door, looking at his quarters. The room had changed as much as he had. What was once spartan and simple was now cluttered with manuscripts, relics and reagents. It was in these moments of solitude that Nikolii allowed himself to think about the past, and what was taken from him. He wondered which life he preferred. As a Space Marine he had an unwavering purpose in his servitude to the Emperor. As a Space Marine he was forbidden to be with his love.

Now, doubt consumed him as thoroughly as Nurgle tainted this ship. Now he was free, but it was this freedom that shackled him. Everywhere he went he was hounded by his former brothers. His own brothers wanted him dead for what he had done. If he was righteous in that climatic moment, then his brothers still served false ideals, like he had done. If he was wrong, the cruel treason he had committed deserved punishment far beyond damnation.

Neither were comforting thoughts, so Nikolii reached for the only true comfort he had left. The halberd was leaned against the wall next to his armor, and as his hand wrapped around its cold, corroded steel, hatred flowed into his mind. It came in a roaring wave, drowning out all voices of doubt and melancholy. The rage reminded him that this new life still had a purpose: vengeance.

Man, this isn't even getting views. How about some sex to attract the masses? The plot thickens...

The Fall
Nikolii strode down the corridor, his power armor forsaken in favor of a simple black garb. As he walked he noticed patches of moss and vines creeping in through the windows. The servants must be getting careless, he thought, yet the portraits and marble busts were freshly dusted and cleaned. Strange, but irrelevant, he concluded as he continued through the maze of passages. Finally, he came to a familiar door. With his heightened senses, amplified by his psychic abilities, he could sense she was alone, as usual.

He stepped through the Gate of Infinity and appeared behind her. He scooped her up in his arms. Startled, she screamed and struck him trying to pull away. He let go of her and she fell onto the bed, laughing with relief to find it was Nikolii.

“Veronica Faust,” he smiled, leaning over her, his hands by her shoulders, “what would your father think, leaving yourself so vulnerable?”

“Well for one thing, my dear Librarian, he certainly wouldn’t approve of your aggressiveness,” she replied as she leaned in to kiss him. “You routed the orks without a hitch?”

“The good Captain should be bombarding the last of them as we speak,” he said, kissing her neck while trying and failing to open her formal dress, “which leaves me with several hours before evening prayers...”

“Let me do that before you break something.” She pushed his hands away and undid the buttons herself. Her dress slid down to her waist and Nikolii admired her soft albino skin. She was a recluse, ashamed of her condition, only venturing into public when it was absolutely necessary. She had never really opened up to even her father, but she formed a bond with another closed-off youth; a bond that withstood even the unimaginably harsh disciplines of a Librarian.

Veronica closed her eyes and let his careful hands caress her body. Then suddenly, he was gone. She rose, and swiftly pulled up her dress. Irritated, she stormed over to the door and almost forgot to wait for the courier to knock before opening it. She paused to regain her composure and opened the door.

“Yes?” Nikolii always knew just when to make his exit. She was thankful for it, as an affair with a Space Marine would certainly mean death for them both.

“My Lady, Planetary Governor Faust requests your presence at the Great War Hall in one hour. He did not disclose the reason to me, but, if I may be so bold, he seemed troubled,” the courier reported.

“Very well, good day,” Veronica said, closing the door. What could this mean? Meetings held in Great War Hall were of the gravest sort, and for her father to require her presence it must be doubly so. She hoped Nikolii would make it
back and be ready in time, as this meeting would almost certainly require him. Sighing, Veronica went to the gilded lasline receiver and called for her servants to prepare her a bath and new clothes.

Needs moar sex.

Er . . . I did read it all and am confused. Maybe post a synopsis?

Orkeosaurus wrote:Needs moar sex.

Well, I'm not writing a porno (yet).

Manchu wrote:Er . . . I did read it all and am confused. Maybe post a synopsis?

Well, Nikolii has the ability to freely go through the Warp. With training this manifests itself as the Gate of Infinity and Vortex of Doom, but as a child he simply floats through the warp to new planets after anytime he loses control (ie falling asleep). He's a rather troubled feral child and eventually winds up meeting Veronica (who is a teenager at the time). She understands he is a psycher and gives him to the Space Marines, but not before some "bonding." The Space Marines are always wary of Nikolii, afraid he was corrupted as a child, but he rises through the ranks anyway.

Honestly, I think The Child was the worst of the three. That is everything you need to know from that for The Fall and The Aftermath. If anyone is interested I'll post the next segment of The Fall tomorrow.

No Sapphomunda?

I should get around to working on that. Would result in perma ban, however.

Not if you become a Mod yourself!

You wouldn't get into trouble if you just PM'd it to us, right?

So you still haven't said: what do you guys think?

@Darkhound: It's pretty well written but hard to get a sense of what is going on since these are only extracts. I think the Fall part is the most interesting but maybe that is only because there is more of it posted. I would read more if you posted. I know what it's like not to get feedback! Check out the stuff I've put up in Dakka Fiction . . . no comments at all, I think.

Sapphomunda was a Sisters of Battle pr0n movie script I started to write to derail a femarine thread. You can read it here:

http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/90/259416.page#1028130

@Orkeo: So you suggest that I should finish an XXX version of Sapphomunda, become a mod, post it here, and then begin the Dakka version of the Horus Heresy? I like it!

Well, I'm eager to keep the story rollin' so here is the next section. It is a short meeting though.

The Fall
The Great War Hall was a circular room, 50 feet across. Half of it was lined along the wall with seats, and in the center there was a raised podium. Huge maps of star systems and the planet hung behind the podium. Amber light filled the room from windows cut into the domed roof. The royalty filed in through a door in the middle of the seating section to find the Planetary Governor and four Black Hound Chapter representatives already inside. Veronica raised her focusing glass to her eyes and was relieved to see Nikolii’s blue armor amongst the black and copper of the other Space Marines.

The somber nobles settled themselves into their seats and the Governor stepped up to the podium. “Children, today has been a grave day and we have no time for formalities.” Governor Faust began, “It has been reported to me that the 4th and 5th companies of the Black Hounds have been pushed out of the near-by Fifth’rin system,” he said, motioning to the star map behind him. “They have lost nearly half their number to the Tau Empire and their murderous allies. If they are not stopped, their next target may be our very home.”

At this, the room buzzed with whispers as the nobles voiced their concerns to each other. The murmuring abruptly stopped as Captain Jacob stepped forward. His ancient armor was riddled with inscriptions of faith and trophies of fallen enemies, and he exuded the supreme confidence that only a Space Marine Captain could muster. His voice boomed through the room as he spoke. “These aliens will not find their way to our home. The Emperor demands their blood for our fallen, and we shall reclaim it by the ocean-full. The 10th Company is nearest to the Fifth’rin system, and so we must reinforce our brothers. Librarian Nikolii will bring tactical skills especially critical to our success in this campaign. This does not mean we will leave our home unguarded, however. I will remain behind with my personal guard, along with any Scouts who have not yet earned their armor. The 8th Armored Company will return to help defend the system as well, to ensure that the 4th and 5th can rebuild their numbers once the Emperor’s retribution has been dealt. Until then, we will need to gather the militia’s fleet, as the Cathedral of Hate will be with Nikolii and the rest of the 10th.”

Noble Hathen, a fat individual known for his money grubbing stood up. “And just why exactly were we summoned? As usual, it seems you noble Space Marines can handle readying our protection yourselves,” he said with a smirk. Sections of the crowd muttered in agreement, while others gasped at his boldness.

Captain Jacob cast a glare at him that would have felled a Carnifex. “You are here because I have received orders from the Chapter Master himself to request the Vault be opened.”

Either through ignorance or pure stupidity, Hathen ignored the warning and the seriousness of the request and replied, “Why would we do that?” He spat, “You obviously have it within your power to protect us without endangering the precious relics of our heritage. I’m not going to let you take my emblem so you can steal some treasure from us lowly humans!”

The Captain was about to go for his bolt pistol, but the Governor intervened, “Noblemen, sit down! I have the power to remove you from nobility. Then you won’t have to worry about giving your emblem to our guests, if that is your biggest concern.” He turned to the Captain, “I’m certain we are all wondering what you hope to retrieve from the Vault, Captain.”

“There are records of a weapon of incredible psychic power, called the Fist of Agony. It is said to be able to guide one through the Warp, and imbue the wearer with unnatural strength. Given the nature of the campaign we are about to embark on, its power combined with Librarian Nikolii’s would give us a considerable edge. The Chapter asks this of you to save lives, and avenge your colonist kinsmen and our brethren.”

The Governor surveyed the gathered nobles. “All in consent?” he asked. The decision was unanimous. Tomorrow Librarian Nikolii would go alone into the Vault, to face the terror locked below and complete the first step in defeating the enemy.

Well, I've been neglecting this thread like the neighborhood cat. I thought I'd mix things up with a segment of The Aftermath. Oh, by the way, I've got a proper Goliath model in the works and that thread should pop up in Painting and Modelling sometime around the end of this week, maybe the middle of next week.


The Aftermath
The spinning red lights made the shadows in the confined area dance. The shaking and swaying of the descending drop pod was muted to Nikolii’s due to his Lyman's Ear. Nikolii looked around at the five warriors strapped against the wall of the pod. Their armor was cracked and ruptured by the blessings of Nurgle, but their gifts paled in comparison to Goliath’s. Goliath was the only remaining member of his Sternguard, and in fact he had been the first. He still carried his now ancient chain axe, but his bolter had been forsaken in favor of his “gift.” Except for his armored collar, his head was bare. After the Obliterator virus had run its course, he said that he didn’t have need of it anymore.

Nikolii’s reminiscing came to an abrupt end as the drop pod touched down. He gripped the halberd with the Fist of Agony while his armor injected him with adrenalin and muscle enhancers and he felt a surge of strength as the doors came crashing down. He charged out the door and came to a grinding halt as two humans in combat dress stumbled in terror in front of him. One of the soldiers looked past Nikolii and let out a scream that was cut short by a heavy bolter round, sending his splattered remains flying. The arch of fire swung into the other soldier before he could react, and he met the same grizzly fate.

Confused, Nikolii spun around, expecting to see infested ruins. Instead he stood in the midst of a field of trenches full of scurrying infantry trying to avoid the raining metal. A good fifty meters away a massive wall rose up out of the ground, capped with battlements and gun-emplacements. “W-Where are the Tyranids?”

Goliath’s face broke into a broad smile at his commander’s reaction and relished explaining his joke. “You said ‘find the most heavily defended target.’ Well, the Tyranids are too spread out to give a proper fight, so the best option was the bastion.”

Nikolii stared at Goliath dumbfounded for a moment. Then the prospect of so much senseless murder sunk in and he began laughing. He turned from Goliath and took off at a run into the trenches, his laughter quickly becoming maniacal. Goliath watched him go, his form flickering as he moved through the Warp from man to man, leaving a trail of bodies that had not yet hit the ground. Steady as ever, Goliath raised his good arm, pointing toward a bunker with his chain axe and his Plague Marines began their assault on the objective.

In contrast, Nikolii didn’t care where he went, so long as there was someone to kill. His halberd arched in and out of flesh as quickly as he moved through realities. The men had no time to react before he killed them, tearing their bodies nearly in two with his massive weapon. Nikolii was completely focused on his next victim, and the massacre looked to him like a series of pict frames. Even as his blade tore through the man in front of him he was selecting his next victim.

Suddenly Nikolii found himself out of people to kill. He had reached a wall in the trench and was confronted by a large metal door. His irritation at the delay in his pleasure was short lived as he heard the rumbling chatter of autocannon fire from within. A cruel plan quickly formed in his head and he raised his massive gauntlet, the Fist of Agony. The gem on top of his gauntlet seemed to invert light, casting shadow all around it, as Nikolii tore down the barrier of the materium. Such reckless use of his power would have been dangerous all those years ago, but now any daemon who managed to get through was a bonus. A torrent of shimmering flames erupted from his fingertips, its light casting a kaleidoscope of colors in the trench. It passed through the door without resistance and terrible screams came from within the pill-box, most of them human.

Nikolii cackled with glee at the suffering inside the pill-box; it was a harsh, chilling sound that reverberated in the cramped trench. Nikolii was irritated by a further interruption to his fun as the vox crackled to life with Goliath calling his name.

“Damnation, what is it you nat!” Nikolii roared into the vox.

“Good to see you’re alive and well,” responded the distorted voice. “Nikolii, we’ve reached the base of the bastion. Get here with all haste. I think we’ve found why they left this place alone.”

“Well, speak damn it! What have you found?”

“You’ll have to see it yourself. I don’t quite have the words to d-“ reality flickered for a moment as Nikolii moved through the warp out of the trench, “-ribe it. It seems like-”As Nikolii gazed out across the network of trenches he lost focus on the buzz of the vox. The thought of all the people still in dire need of killing almost made Nikolii salivate. “-and Nikolii, ignore the humans. We need you here now, not a few days from now.”

Yeah, I know I have no excuess for not updating. I'll make an effort to regularly add to the thread, but I'd like to avoid dumping all my files here. The Goliath miniature ran into issues, and it seems I'm having a creative block regarding his arm, but I'll finish him eventually. Anyway, on with the show!

The Fall
The Barren’s stillness was disconcerting, as if the plains were anticipating the events about to unfold. Nikolii stood at the rear of the Thunderhawk, its ramp down, watching the ravines and fissures twist and turn underneath him. Nothing lived long down there. Planetary legend suggests that the area had once supported colonies, and they had prospered. They constructed devices of technological and arcane wonder. The legends become muddled shortly after, with stories ranging from jealous Chaos gods to a dark plague from beneath the earth, but all are clear that after this event the people of this planet were left broken and homeless.

After civilization rebuilt itself and the Black Hounds chapter was founded, an exploration team was sent in to uncover the truth of the area. It was an elite team, ten of the Chapter’s finest, but after 7 days a lone survivor stumbled out, carrying a data file with the recordings of the expedition’s findings. He was a raving shell of his former self, and in between fits of madness he was able to tell 3 essential rules to traversing the Vault: always go alone, never speak in the darkness and never take anything you weren’t there to claim.

The Thunderhawk slowed and shifted its engines to a vertical position, allowing it to hover over a massive rend in the world. The crescent canyon was remarkable in two ways. First was that no natural phenomena could replicate it; it was nowhere near any tectonic plate boundaries or water. The second was that the oldest and most accurate records place the ancient colony precisely on the canyon.

As the Thunderhawk slowly descended into the canyon Nikolii checked his gear. Turning, he picked up the satchel that held all the noble familial emblems of the Fourth’rin. They would give him access to the Vault. The trinkets themselves were devoid of any precious materials, and Nikolii assumed that once these had been merely keys. They were, however, the only remaining link to his people’s past outside of the Vault.

As the Vault door came into view Nikolii gave his gear one last looking over and hefted the satchel. He took a deep breath and jumped. He landed solidly on the ledge and looked up. The size of the Vault door set in for the first time; it was a circle nearly 25 feet in diameter, bisected by a hairline crack, covered in ancient runes and cased in a metal that seemed to glow even in the darkness of the canyon. At its center was a terminal with a circular receptacle built into the Vault door. The emblems must be entered in the exact order he had memorized or the Vault would not open for another twenty years.

First Nikolii set the locator beacon down. It was to left outside the Vault, only to be activated once he returned. If it was activated within 7 days, a Thunderhawk would be on dispatched to retrieve him. Next Nikolii laid all the emblems out before him and began the long processes of places the emblems in the terminal. After several hours, the gates gave a groan of compliance and began the titanic effort of opening.

In stark contrast to the glow of the doors, there was pitch darkness only a few feet into the tunnel. From what Nikolii could see, the walls of the Vault were unnaturally smooth. He stepped into through the gate and immediately the doors began to close. Just as the last crack of sunlight was choked out of the Vault by the gate, interior lights along the wall activated of their own accord. They bathed the tunnel in cool green light.

With the new light source Nikolii was able to see, and he instinctively scanned his surroundings. The room continued another ten feet where it terminated into another wall. Despite the lights, the ceiling of the cylindrical room was still covered in darkness. As Nikolii strode towards the far wall, he noticed the shadows seemed to be unnaturally sluggish about moving when exposed to light. Reminded of the second rule of the Vault, he was disturbed by this discovery and proceeded with his bolt pistol in hand.

As he came within five feet of the wall the room began to rumble. It felt as if the Vault was some giant beast waking from a long slumber. The wall ahead of him suddenly parted and Nikolii’s pistol was up instantly, searching for threats. With none to be found he progressed to the next room. It was square and only a third the height of the previous one. The line of lights followed this room’s gentle curve down, but it was otherwise as plain as the first room.

Nikolii proceeded down this slope for what seemed to be hours. The internal clocks in his armor, along with his communication and various other systems were malfunctioning. He came across many doors along the wall, but was unable to open any of them. He dared not risk explosives on the doors, instead trusting the Vault would take him where he needed to go. The doors seemed to be placed irregularly, which made telling the time or even his relative location even more difficult.

The further he progressed the more he could sense the awakening machine spirit of the Vault. He couldn’t hear anything, and there was no apparent movement, but he felt the subtle vibrations and warmth all around him. The vibrations had the regularity and pattern of a beating heart, and it comforted Nikolii. Not enough to risk holstering his pistol, but it gave him a glimmer of hope; if he obeyed the rules of the Vault, he may retrieve the Fist and return without trouble. ‘Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment,’ he mentally chided himself, and focused his mind. He was not about to let his wandering mind be the death of him.

The tunnel eventually ended in a door that was out of character with the rest of the Vault. All the other doors and walls had been a sterile white just short of medical standards, while this door was industrial in nature with unpainted metal exposed. It had black and yellow warning strips lining the top and bottom of the door, visible bolts, and was otherwise utilitarian where the rest of the Vault had been gracefully curved. Here the beat of the Vault’s heart was audible: a muted mass of rumblings that clashed in pitch and tone made the background for a dominating thudding that felt like the footfalls of a Titan.

Nikolii inspected the door for an opening mechanism and found a lever pointing up, which could apparently be pulled down and to the right. Nikolii proceeded to test it, and even with his super-human strength the lever was difficult to move. With a grunt of effort he set it in its final position. To his relief, the door split at a seam in the middle and retracted into the walls.

The door was connected to an iron catwalk, which overlooked a room which seemed to go on for miles in either direction. It was filled with industrial equipment and scores of assembly lines, all of which was working autonomously. The room was bathed in a harsh red glow, as the only light sources were the opening and closing mouths of the forges at various points of the lines. However, there was something unusual about the floor. It seemed like there were uneven, crumpled piles covering the entire complex’s floor.

The unnatural shadows weren’t keen on divulging their secret, so Nikolii had to take it by force. He drew his bolt pistol and fired once at the floor some thirty feet below him. The explosion from his bolt light the area for only a brief moment, but what it revealed disturbed Nikolii. The complex floor was completely covered in corpses.

Nikolii took a step back towards the door and watched as the lights in the hallway shut off, one by one. No, they were being turned off, the darkness was smothering them, howling and lunging towards him. Nikolii fired his bolt pistol into it as he ran across the catwalk, but the darkness swallowed his rounds. He couldn’t even hear the detonation of the bolts. He hadn’t run five steps before the howling was all around him, and there was no more light anywhere.

In a moment he would be just another corpse on that floor, he knew, yet a supreme sense of calm came over his mind. He had spent his entire life at the edge of death, and one thing above all else had always come through for him. Nikolii reached within himself and let his force flow out of his body, in all directions. The darkness relented momentarily under Nikolii’s assault, but its power as old and as endless as time. His power failing, Nikolii let go of the darkness and focused on pulling himself through a tiny hole in the materium. In that moment of transition the darkness swallowed Nikolii, its tendrils cutting his mind. In that moment, Nikolii was certain he was dead.

Oye! Alright, so I'll spoil something right now. Nikolii isn't actually dead, and neither am I. However, I am working really hard to get an =I=munda campaign's worth of miniatures and character sheets ready in about a week, so I am justified in my lack of posting. Alright, fine, no I'm not. Look, as a consolation prize you get to hang out in Goliath's head this time. Oh, and look! More violence!

The Aftermath
Goliath closed the vox connection, shaking his head in irritation. Behind him was the base of the bastion, its wall covered in shimmering runes. The runes converged on this point, centered on a rune larger and more luminous than the others. He was no sorcerer, but the reason the Tyranids ignored the bastion had to be here.

However, there was no guarantee Nikolii would move expediently and he knew it. Looking out across the battlefield he saw the humans were recovering from the shock of the drop pods. By weight of numbers they were pushing his marines back. Opening a vox channel to all the Champions, he ordered a tactical withdrawal to his position. Fighting the humans in their own trench was unwise. Far easier to hold this objective and let them come to him on open ground.

Goliath turned from the wall and looked over his surroundings: the base of the bastion was out of the trenches and without cover, but the humans had not organized enough to counter-attack this position. He had time to prepare. Thirty feet to his left, and a hundred feet to his right, the ground sloped into the trench. Fighting in those entrances would split his squad and leave them vulnerable to flank attacks. He’d make his stand here.

He needed to get cover for his own warriors though. There were shields in the trenches his warriors could dislodge, sandbags that could be moved and ammunition crates that, while were unusable as supply, could provide a barricade. The sandbags would take too long to move with only five warriors, and if the enemy attacked before they had finished his warriors would be caught completely out of position. Removing the trench shields would take far less time and he needed only three or four of them. The ammunition crates were likely to explode if they took too much fire; far easier to rig them with explosives and use them to plug the trench entrances, but that was secondary.

“Combat blades out! I need four trench shields dismantled and in place to defend this position. Ditches need to be dug to support them. Thad, Halius, you two are digging. Relthur, you’re on over watch. Page, you’re with me. The ditches need to be dug 2 feet deep, from the wall to the trenches, here and twenty feet there.” Goliath ordered, and his warriors immediately began working. Page formed up behind him, and they took off at a jog into the nearest trench.

Two shields were positioned to the left and right of the entrance, and Goliath motioned toward the right one. The shields were built to withstand direct impacts, but they were only as sturdy as the earth they were built into. Goliath flexed the mass of flesh that was his right arm, willing a meltagun to come to the fore. “When I fire, pull the shield out.”

“Sir.” Page acknowledged.

Goliath gripped with his right hand, and there was a hissing crack as the air became superheated. Goliath fanned his arm along the trench wall, turning it bright orange and malleable. Page grunted with effort, his enhanced muscles at their limit before the shield finally gave way. He let the momentum carry the shield up, helping him toss it over the trench wall in one motion.

Within 90 seconds Goliath and Page had removed another shield. Goliath ordered Page to take it back, while he advanced to the next shield. Within five minutes they had all the shields in place at the glyph. Goliath had just finished soldering the last barricade into place, by fanning his meltagun over the base, when the humans made their move against his squad.

Nearly a score of them advanced up out of the trench to the south. Relthur called out ranges: “Eighteen targets, light infantry, 88 feet and closing!” His squad opened up with their bolters, and Goliath quickly morphed a heavy bolter to provide suppressing fire. The stream of high explosive rockets that flooded into the killing ground was inescapable. The first rank of infantry was caught by surprise, and within moments their bodies were torn to shreds and scattered into their comrades. Goliath spotted the squad leader, who wore a more ornate breastplate, trying to rally his squad. Not one to take chances, Goliath steadied his aim and took one confident shot. He watched the rocket ignite and fly down range, right into the sergeant’s throat. The bolt didn’t even have time to detonate before it passed through his body, cutting the head off and throwing it into the air with a stream of gore. Twenty seconds after having called the range, the humans were dead.

“Incoming! Fifteen light infantry, north side!” Relthur called out, diving to the shields on the opposite side. Page and Thad had barely finished reloading before they followed suit. The attacks were too fast to be anything but a flanking attempt, although Goliath was certain they didn’t expect the first attack to fall so quickly. The enemy was running at a full sprint towards them, and he saw some of the men falter as the Plague Marines fell into position. Immediately his squad opened fire into the infantry, but Goliath knew instinctively they would breach the barricade. At this range the bolts over penetrated with almost every shot, cutting holes massive holes in the men, but without the detonation of the bolt it took two bursts to drop a man.

As the first man reached the wall Goliath came up swinging his chainaxe. The human had his arm up, swinging down with his bayonet, but Goliath’s lightning strike tore him from his arm-pit to his opposite shoulder, and his body exploded back from the force of the spinning blades. The next soldier was already in mid swing, and couldn’t back out of his attack even as he watched his comrade mercilessly cut down. To a Space Marine the men seemed to be swinging in slow motion; Goliath parried the rifle with a reversed swing, his blades tearing the weapon from the man’s hands. Goliath let his momentum carry his right arm, its mass smashing into the soldier’s helmet. There was a sickening crunch and the man instantly went limp, his shattered body bouncing on the ground from the force of the blow. Four bolts roared passed Goliath and into the last assailant, throwing his body into the air before his knife could connect.Goliath gave a nod of thanks to Halius and fell back in line.

It was minutes before anything else happened. Eventually bolter reports resonated from the northern trench. It was met by a short chatter of autogun fire, before falling silent. Seven Plague Marines emerged from the trench, led by Champion Klazart. “Klazart! Fall in line. Take up position on the southern wall. We’ve got to hold this until Nikolii gets back,” Goliath called to him.

“’Wall?’ These slabs couldn’t withstand a child’s tantrum.” Klazart scoffed as he stepped over the northern wall.

“Be thankful I put these in place once the storm hits. Once we get dug in they’re certain to bring out the big guns.” As if his words initiated some sort of cosmic joke, Relthur called out a lascannon battery being wheeled into position to the south. Goliath let out a roar of irritation as he strode over to the other wall, his arm already morphing into a plasma cannon. He lifted his arm and threw one contemptuous shot down range. The roaring plasma blast few into the battery, incinerating the crewmen and igniting the weapon in a ball of flame. In the waning light Goliath was able to make out the infantry fleeing back into their trenches, and he threw another plasma shot at them out of disgust of their cowardice.

Goliath looked out across the trenches. From the corner of his eye he saw another Plague Marine squad approaching from the north. That left three more squads out in the trenches, and from his vantage he could just make out troop movement. It seemed the enemy was massing around an ammunition storage bunker to the south east. As he looked something flew out of the trench. He squinted his eyes, was it a trick of the light? It happened again, and it was certainly a body. It seemed like Nikolii was having a good time. Goliath chuckled to himself; even if this took a day, it would be worth the wait to hear Nikolii’s kill count.

Very good read! Thanks for the update!

This is hot off the press! I've been ill for the last few days and was struck by inspiration, so I wrote this. A new story arch with new characters (technically there are 5 so far). It does require an introduction though. Meet Hector. He is an utterly demented Techpriest, part of the Cult that serves Blackmoore (the commander of the Traitor Guard which support Nikolii). He was fun to write because he is insanity is modeled after my own psychotic depression. Anyway, his relevance to the story begins about the same time as the last segment. He is part of the Techpriest team exploring the forge. Without further adéu...

The Black Knight
Hector the mad walked down the hall, its roof lost in the darkness. A servitor followed him holding a lantern. It was the only illumination after Hector disabled the lock on the last blast door. The hallway was maybe thirty feet across, and several times that in length, although he could only guess. Anger was shouting because apparently he was wasting time even thinking about the room’s dimensions, which caused regret start screaming about how he would be a fool to waste any moment and flooded his mind with everything he’d ever done incorrectly. The torrent of every error, however slight, he’d ever committed made him reel, and he shouted in pain, “You! Quiet damned get out of my mind, yelling and screaming insanity, horrible stenches and maimed kittens, the delirium is – QUIET!” To which the servitor didn’t respond; it was doubtful he even registered Hector’s raving.

The outburst silenced regret, but incited sadness and his mood swung into a horrible depression. He immediately sat down and looked longingly at his wrist. How simple it would be to end all this madness. The servitor waited patiently for his master to regain his composure. However, there is no right mind for Hector. His wallowing enraged anger, who reminded him that this was still wasting time. The noise-which-was-not-sound was like a fire under Hector’s bottom and he set off at a sprint down to the hall exit, his manic good humor reignited. The servitor took off at a casual gate, the lantern still held aloft.

He came to a stop at the doorway, bent over, his panting a wheezing, metallic grinding sound. The servitor took his side nonchalantly. Hector stumbled into the next room, holding the doorframe to keep him steady. His fingers brushed against the raised edge of a control terminal. Turning to it, he saw what he could identify as lighting controls. Anger chided him, and to spite it he proceeded to turn them all on. There was an audible thud as power generators, which had slept for so long, finally reawakened. Scores of lights flickered to life, and in moments the entire room was bathed in light. It was the site of a battle.

There were corpses everywhere, most of them not dressed in battle gear. Their skeletal frames were mottled with rusted bionics, and they were clothed in faded red rags. Some of them wore what appeared to be very old models of power armor, used by Enginseers. Some wore the combat fatigues and flag armor of the Imperial Guard. The bodies were arrayed in loose circles which grew tighter and tighter toward the object which dominated the scene.

It was a war machine, bi-pedal in nature and at least two stories tall. Its deep grey frame was embellished by white trim along its armor plating. It stood awkwardly, one foot forward as if it had taken its first step and was still figuring out how to complete the motion. The head is this creature was cracked open, and appeared to be the cockpit; it had not yet cleared the scaffolding surrounding it. The design philosophy immediately matched that of the mighty Titans, although on a smaller scale. It must be a fabled Knight Titan, kept safe in this world’s armory.

For a moment he stood in awe of the Titan, and then his mind caught up with him. Anger, sadness and regret all burst into noise; anger was excited by the bloodshed even if it was decades old; sadness screamed about the unjust loss of life over such a trivial prize; regret preemptively complained that he would make some sort of grave error here. The flood of emotion and noise made his vision turn white, and he screamed at the top of his lungs. When that didn’t work, he turned and slammed his head into where he remembered the wall being. The white immediately became black and he felt the floor jump up behind him.

Hector regained consciousness moments later, and picked himself off the floor. The servitor looked out across the room as apparently oblivious to his surroundings as ever. With his madness silenced he decided to investigate the Titan; recovering it would be a huge boon for Blackmoore, and he would be rewarded handsomely. He navigated the field of corpses, careful to avoid stepping on them. Eventually he worked his way around to the right side of the Titan where he found the stairs that allowed access to the scaffolding. There was an unusual absence of corpses on the way up, which left him free to inspect the flanks of the Titan and marvel in its technological glory.

After several minutes he reached the top scaffolding. He was almost dancing with glee as he approached the cockpit, the throne with which one could rule this weapon. As he rounded the corner made by the machine’s shoulder the cockpit came into view: in its seat was a skeleton frozen in a scream of agony. Hector nearly jumped out of his skin, and stumbled backwards into the servitor. Anger cackled, sadness screamed, and regret waited in anticipation.

“Shut up! Shut up! Blighting, bluthering – SERVITOR! Remove the corpse!” He yelled. The servitor moved forward and lifted the body up by its pilot’s clothes. The body was halfway out of the cockpit before the decayed clothe gave out and the torso of the corpse spilled out. The bones slipped through the gap between the scaffolding and the cockpit and fell to the floor below. The legs, however, were still in the seat.

“You damn incompetent, brainless, half machine half – I’ll do it myself!” Hector bent down and pulled the legs up, careful not to make the same mistake his servitor did. Disgusted with the task, he let the legs fall through the gap as soon as he could. Behind him the servitor’s mouth opened further than was naturally possible.

“WARNING: TYRANID RELALIATION IMMINENT!” The blaring warning made Hector jump. He fell forward, right into the cockpit of the Titan, his body bumping into all manner of buttons and switches. The cockpit start closing around him as Hector tried to right himself. He caught a glance of the servitor just before the shielding close: he could have sworn the mindless machine was waving to him. Anger was overjoyed with the possibility of killing something, sadness hoped this excursion might finally get Hector killed, and regret cackled with glee.

Oh my this is pure awesomsauce i must admidt my good sir A refreshing story! Keep the stuff comming

So, for those of you just joining us, I really don't update regularly. I do update though. This time I have a good excuess though. I'm busy converting The Aftermath into a stand-alone short story for the uninitiated (to win a thousand dollars). Its due 2/15/10 (American date system), and after that I may put it up for you guys to read. I have to warn you though, it contains spoilers about The Fall (which I intend to add to soon). In the mean time, I finally finished up the rest of this. No, it isn't a short story and I do intend to continue it, but first I need to catch up the Aftermath.

The Black Knight
The shielding closed, cutting off the last crack of light. For a long moment he was in total darkness, uncomfortably waiting for something to happen. Finally the great machine shuddered, and the plasma reactor roared to life. The control console in front of him lit up, illuminating all of its many buttons. The monitors connected to the Titan’s cameras slowly hummed to life all around him, and he was able to see.

A message appeared in bolded High Gothic on the screen in front of him: ‘Please rest your head against the designated area and await connection.’ Hector was confused, and leaned back against the chair. As his head settled against the headrest, a brace fell into place, holding his head steady. Two metal rods appeared at either side of his head, with needles pointed at his eyes. Slowly they pushed forward into the corners of his eyes; the pain was incredible. Regret laughed all the harder, while sadness speculated that maybe this was a defensive mechanism that killed the last pilot. The noise-without-sound they added to his pain made him scream and struggle against the machine, which made it hurt even worse. Sadness was certain this was finally it; he’d finally be free of his mortal woes.

Then something happened. There was a popping noise, and the rods receded leaving the needles in his eyes. A wire trailed from the needles into the rods. There was a crackling sensation: not really a noise, it seemed to engulf his mind. Finally there was euphoria: Hector was the Titan.

He was flooded with information: the status of every electrical system, mechanical part, ammunition, reactor level, and function. He felt everything the Titan felt, knew everything it knew and had all the power it had. Oh the power! Hector was tempted to prance around the docking bay. In fact anger roared at him to do it, but it was outweighed by regrets more urgent request to check his priorities. The Tyranids were coming, and Blackmoore could certainly use the Titan’s help on the ground; wasting any time was a mistake, and just to prove it, Hector was flooded with all the mistakes he’d ever committed.

“Damned yelling and screaming, angry people shouting with loud noise that defies – BLAST IT!” Hector’s raving was transmitted through the Titan’s considerable sound casters and it reverberated around the room. He shook his head at that foolishness, and the Titan’s head shook with him, bouncing Hector around in his chair. With his new-found innate knowledge he strapped himself in with the harnesses lying slack to the sides of the seat. He then tuned the vox to Blackmoore’s frequency and began opening the docking bay doors.

There vox channel was a chaos of clashing voices, with screams of humans and aliens alike dominating the background; battle had already been joined. The bay doors were only halfway opened. Hector took two mighty steps toward them and squared his shoulders. He revved the massive chain-blade that was his left arm, and let his vision slip into the camera mounted on the barrel of the laser destroyer that was his right. He looked over his shoulder and saw his servitor standing calmly where he’d been left.

“Stay here and await my return.” The Titan thundered. The servitor stood as immobile as he had before and Hector trusted him to follow orders. The doors finally finished parting. Hector took one more calming breath before starting out toward the battle. He’d seen picts, and he’d even been in a gunship observing one before, albeit at high altitude; surely with the power of the Knight Titan he could handle this! Immediately after clearing the gate he could see the streaks of fire as the Cathedral of Hate continued its barrage. Within a minute he’d trekked around the massive complex to its front where the Guard waited.

It was carnage on an unimaginable scale. Men were slaughtered in terrible ways, right in front of him. He nearly vomited. Regret asked he should stop and examine the situation so he didn’t make it worse; Anger roared at him to kill something; sadness urged him to throw himself into the fray, if only because it might actually kill him. He was inclined to agree with the majority, and let out a long roar as he charged into battle.

The Titan turned his laser destroyer toward the largest beast he could see: a massive snake-like creature which had just sprouted from beneath the earth. The creature was just flexing its limbs when the red beam slammed into it, igniting the entire area in fire. There was nothing left of the creature, the tunnel it had dug or anything around it. Directly ahead there was a swarm of… jents, ghents, gants? Hector assumed they wouldn’t able to damage the Titan and stomped through them. They were like ants, slipping between the cracks of his feet. He needed to focus his effort on the largest creatures, where he could have the most impact.

Hector felt an incessant pinching on his right shin. From the corner of his eye he saw a large beast battering against his leg, and it seemed the gants were pouring out from underneath it. He snarled at the pest, and swung his chainblade at it. The creature huttled down and leaned against the weapon. The blade pulped the section of carapace it hit, but that wasn’t enough to kill the beast. The beast roared in agony and was stunned momentarily. The Titan took this opportunity to lift its leg and stomp the life out of the beast.

His lust for violence sated at a lull, regret got his attention and made him examine the battle. It felt like he was standing on thistles as the gants battered themselves against his armor, and shuffled his feet occasionally, but otherwise directed his attention to the battle as a whole. Blackmoore’s battle line was drawn, but it looked frail and tiny compared to the tide of carapace descending on it. Never the less it held. Shambling grotesqueries that one might mistake for men acted as a bulwark against the sea of Tyranids. With the optical zoom on his laser destroyer he spotted the infamous Doctor Naire at the fore, leading his creations.

As his zoom retracted, three massive beetles came into view. They were almost mechanical, with rows of ventilation towers protruding from their back. They came in a roaring wall, pitching Naire’s walking corpses into the air as if they weren’t there at all. Weapons fire pattered harmlessly off their armor. A flood of gants came in its wake, widening the wedge formed in Blackmoore’s line.

It was like a reflex he never knew he had. He didn’t think; he just acted. The Titan thundered forward as he leveled the laser destroyer, but firing on the move was harder than he’d anticipated went wide. The red beam glanced the closest beetle and the pain made it reel. It reactively pulled to the right, slamming into the rest of the brood. Their advance ground to a halt as they searched for what had hurt them. They didn’t have to look hard. The three beetles changed their direction and cut a line through even more of Naire’s bulwark, but left Blackmoore’s guns alone.

Hector met them halfway, swinging his chainblade low to catch the beetles in their less armored belly. He misjudged their durability though, and the blade got caught in the first beetle while the other two slammed into his arm and waist. The Titan stumbled backwards, coming dangerously close to falling over, but Hector regained his balance. The beetles seemed to have lost their momentum and slowly trod towards him flexing their bladed limbs. Hector took the opportunity to fire one last laser destroyer blast into the injured beast. At this range he couldn’t miss, and it was reduced to a flaming husk.

The other beasts lunged at him, but Hector was too quick. He side stepped them, then brought his leg forward as hard as he could. The kick connected with the closer brute, crunching its carapace and rendering its left limbs useless. It oozed fluid as it collapsed, roaring and fidgeting in pain. The last beetle didn’t waste its momentum, and made a wide circle behind the Titan. Hector turned to face it, but it caught the laser destroyer and dug in with all four of its arms. There was a horrific groaning sound before the Titan’s armor gave way and Hector’s right arm was torn off. The laser destroyer exploded, incinerating the monster and knocking the Titan back.

Hector screamed in pain as the lights inside his cockpit was faded. No, the lights were fine he was just blacking out. He was falling in slow motion; he clenched his eyes and braced himself for impact. He heard the skittering of carapace on metal all around him, and was amused to find he'd already hit the ground. Sadness was content though. Finally he was finished, and nothing else mattered. The pain faded as the darkness closed in around him.

I'm back, but I don't really have an update. My submission was accepted, so I might just win 1000 dollars. Hope is the first step on the road to disapointment. Anyway, since its passed the due date and they've already accepted it I think its safe to show you guys. Be forewarned: I cut so much out of it there is little Warhammer left. Its ending is different from the actual Aftermath's, but not different enough that I want to just post it up, so you'll have to PM me for it. I've got the week off, so expect to see a real update.

Great read DarkHound, each time you write you get better.

The first three short stories were a little all over the place - the fall does not really tell what happened - did that rip into the immaterium when the sternguard fired on the demon - is that the event? did the demon touch his mind?

Also a bit uncomfortable with space marine romances - iron snakes suggest they are all sterile and Fulgrim in Horus Heresy suggest they all lack lust - prob that energy is used to make them mighty space marines!

Nicoli sounds like he is really bad news. You prob need to tie some pieces together - his demon halbard, yet he has a relic gauntlet with a jewel in it?

Looks great though dude, I really enjoyed the read. Keep it up, I look forward to it one day being a great book! No word of a lie you have a great talent.

I haven't updated this in a long, long while, but trust me when I say it all makes sense eventually. I have the entire story, just a lot of it is nothing but notes. Since I ripped the soul out of the story for that short-story contest and still lost (to a really rubbish story too) I haven't had the focus to flesh out my notes. I've been writing a lot of other stuff lately, like a steam-punk, political thriller detective story.

While we're talking about it, there is a reason why Nikolii is able to lust after and love Veronica. I hint at it in what parts of The Child I have actually finished. I won't be posting The Child, but the reason is quite simple and yet complex: the Space Marine doctrine doesn't actually take root. The nature of his upbringing, or lack there of, causes him to fundamentally distrust his surroundings and do whatever he needs to in order to survive. The Space Marines take him in, and he accepts it as just another moment in his life, and that soon he'll wake up on another planet to face some wild terror. The Epistolary of the 10th Company keeps his powers from carrying him away, so Nikolii ends up unconsciously rejecting their dogma while consciously parading it around because it earns a positive reaction from his instructors. Like a baby smiling for his parents, all he knows is that if he keeps it up good things happen, but he doesn't fully understand what he's doing, not when he's a child. As he grows, he understands his duty, but never accepts it the way another Space Marine would.

Anyway, the halbard he picks up shortly before the end of The Fall. The gauntlet is the Fist of Agony, which he is currently trying to find in the Vault.

The first piece of The Fall is as it appears. Nothing important plot-wise happens, although I'm hinting at something in those first two entries that you won't see coming. No, it has utterly nothing to do with Chaos or Deamons. Anyway, that first peice was literally the first peice of anything I'd written outside of school essays. It was a test to see what I could write, so take it as a fun little action peice.

All this talk of the story makes me want to actually sit down and write. There's something that'll keep me busy 'till the game against Sanctjud on Friday!

.

Yep, get inspired - im keen to read more!

Suffice to say I was inspired, but I haven't gotten a lot of sleep (6 of the last 36 hours), so I'm going to bed now. Fortunately the next section writes itself, so I'll be able to pump that out in a couple hours. I've got anywhere from six to eight segments of The Fall left, so we're getting there. After that The Aftermath has like 2 and I can write one more thing for The Black Knight.

The Fall
Thud thud…

Thud thud…

Nikolii awoke to the faint buzzing, and his own heart beating. No, it was too loud to be his heart. All of his memories came back in a torrent; he stood up swiftly, taking account of his surroundings. The buzzing came from a light, like the ones that lined the floor before. It was the only one on, and it seemed to be damaged at that: it cast only a dismal yellow light that barely illuminated his surroundings.

Behind him there was a wall, and ahead of him it was too dark to see. Nikolii huddled over by the light and checked himself. All of his equipment and limbs were intact, which was a relief. His armor’s machine spirit was still compromised, however. As he went over his pouches and checked his bolt pistol he noticed that the shadows fled from the light like normal. This new development puzzled him, but he knew the answers didn’t lie here.

Holstering his pistol, as it apparently unable to help him against this threat, he began his march forward. Both hands gripping the staff, he walked with it held forward and ready, concentrating his power into the staff. If the darkness made another move against him, he would be ready.

It wasn’t long before he couldn’t see the light behind him. Eventually he couldn’t even see the walls of the corridor. Losing his only frame of reference was something he could not afford. Carefully, he made a 90 degree right turn and took two steps forward. Nikolii reached out with his staff, yet he didn’t strike metal. He took another two steps forward, which should have put him against the wall, yet there was nothing in front of him.

The best plan of action would be to retrace his steps and figure things out from there. Nikolii took two steps backward, turned a further 90 degrees right and set off at a run, but immediately halted. He was walking down a slope when he should be on an incline. He turned 180 degrees and took a few steps forward, but in both directions he was on a downward slope. Nikolii would have none of this daemon’s games. He drew his bolt pistol and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. Nikolii cleared the breach and tried again, but his weapon refused to fire.

A legion of voices rang out from the darkness, from everywhere around him, all saying the same thing: “Your weapons are useless in my domain, mortal.” The darkness withdrew, and as it left Nikolii was able to see his surroundings. He was no longer in the Vault, but on a plateau. The ground was covered in fecal matter and rotting corpses, while above him a vortex churned the yellow sky. He had only a moment to take in his surroundings before the rot around him began to move. It was all drawn by some unseen force a single spot on the opposite end of the plateau.

From the converging filth arose Nikolii’s adversary. Nikolii knew the Ruinous Powers well, and this creature was a Great Unclean One. Unlike the greater daemons of either deities, a Great Unclean One was said to be an incarnation of his patron. Its presence represented a vested interest in the Vault.

“Nikolii! Welcome! I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.” The abomination laughed, and the stench that escaped his mouth was visible. Nikolii did nothing except assume a battle stance and wait, glaring at the monster. “You know, it is alright if you talk. Honestly nothing special will happen. I lied to that first batch of fools about the darkness so I could get some peace and quiet.”

“What do you mean you were waiting for me? Where are we, daemon?”

“Bwahaha! It speaks! Well little Nikolii, to answer your first question: I am here so that no one takes the Fist except you. You see Nikolii, that weapon was made for you.”

“How is that possible? It was created hundreds of years before my birth.” Nikolii was more focused than he’d ever been in his life. He’d seen such creatures rip apart entire squads of veterans with almost casual effort. If he was going to survive he’d need to buy time to form a plan.

The daemon glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward and hid his mouth with his hand as though he was telling a secret and he didn’t want anyone else to hear it. “Well, that’s the trick. I don’t quite know. You see, I stole this plan from the only person worth stealing plans from!”

“You mean the Changer of Ways?” The plague daemon nodded its head, grinning from ear socket to ear socket. “Aren’t you concerned you’re doing exactly what he wants you to? That is his nature,” Nikolii continued.

The Great Unclean One’s smile spread even wider; it seemed it would tear his face in half at any moment. “I have an ace in the hole that not even he knows about.” The abomination cackled with glee.

“If you’re keeping the Fist of Agony for me, then where is it?” Nikolii hedged.

“Why, right behind you.” The daemon stared intently.

Nikolii didn’t have more than a few seconds to look around before the daemon appeared, but he was certain he wouldn’t miss something like that. He glanced back, his staff still held at the ready. Sure enough, there was a gauntlet on a pedestal and both were untouched by the decay all around them. The position of the grasping fist disturbed Nikolii, and he couldn’t shake the image of a drowning man grasping at a life line.

“Go on, take it. That’s what you were sent to do, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me if I don’t trust an agent of Chaos.”

The Great Unclean One roared with laughter, its rotting flesh falling off in places. “The little mortal man thinks he has a choice.” It howled, its laughter punctuated by belches. Eventually the beast settled down. “Look, human, as I see it you have two options: risk taking the Fist and stand a chance against me, or die in terrible agony.”

“Why would you kill me if you’ve already invested so much effort into this plan?”

“Effort? You understand only as much of the universe as your life span allows. In the grand scheme of things, winning you from my brother is irrelevant. There will always be another opportunity, always and forever. So allow me to reiterate: risk taking the Fist and stand a chance against me, or die in terrible agony.”

Reluctantly Nikolii turned and took the Fist of Agony from its pedestal, slipping it onto his left arm. It fit perfectly. He flexed his hand, examining his new tool. It was comparable to a modern Powerfist, but it apparently lacked the energy field projected by power weapons. On top of the gauntlet’s forearm sat a massive gem intricately laced into the weapon. He swung the fist, testing it. It did increase his strength and speed substantially, but from where it drew its power he could only guess at.

“Enjoying your new toy? Fantastic, then let’s get started.” The Great Unclean One reached into the puddle of rot at his feet and unearthed a 5 meter long sheet of corroded metal. The daemon roared, swinging the sword over its head as it charged. Nikolii side stepped a vertical slash, punching with the daemon’s arm with the Fist of Agony. Despite tearing away pounds of flesh the creature didn’t flinch. The daemon lifted its blade and swung for Nikolii’s chest. Nikolii dove underneath it and delivered an awesome uppercut to the abomination’s jaw, but the beast rode the hit and retaliated with a punch that caught Nikolii’s shoulder plate, nearly tearing it off. Nikolii jumped back out of reach and waited for the beast’s next attack.

The daemon led with a left hook, forcing Nikolii into the arch of the oncoming blade. Nikolii ducked and punched the blade up to give him some extra room. With both of the daemon’s arms occupied Nikolii charged the beast’s chest, swinging his Force Staff. As soon as the weapon touched the daemon, he discharged his pent up energy and tore the staff away, dragging the daemon’s soul out of its body. This was no mortal being that Nikolii faced, and he only exorcised the pile of decaying matter long enough for the daemon’s form to falter. The fluids and flesh that made up the monster’s body simply melted away. The daemon roared in anger and leaned forward, spilling onto Nikolii, drowning him beneath a sea of decay.

Nikolii wasn’t simply drowning; the daemon was forcing the decay into his body. Nikolii had only moments to react. He gathered his well of power and pushed outward in all directions. The daemonic slime built into a bubble before exploding all across the plateau. Nikolii fell to his knees, coughing to clear his throat.

He gathered up his staff and looked about wearily as the plateau began to rumble, but none of the debris moved. Then Nikolii began noticing cracks forming under the waste, and the edges of the plateau crumbled away. The vortex above him was raging faster than ever, and the plateau fell away more rapidly. Soon Nikolii was standing the last piece of the plateau, but even that was crumbling away.

The taunting voice of the Great Unclean One permeated the air. “Counting on hopping through the warp, through our domain, to escape are you? Well, I didn’t answer your second question.” The last of the plateau crumbled away and Nikolii tumbled into the black abyss below, yet the daemon’s voice persisted as a whisper in his ear. “I lied earlier. We're actually in your domain: your mind.”

that is a pretty cool story bout a a space marine turning into Nurgle, but its a bit hard to keep up with it

Nice work! SO what is charging up the fist? And is that the taint moment?

Nikolii is never lead astray exactly. You'll see at the climax of The Fall.

Something is bothering me though. The story feels rushed the way I'm writing it now. As it is I'm writing it just to get through all the important events. If this were a paper-back novel we'd be on page 19, and the story would be over on page 33 or so. I have stuff I can write about, there are several characters I have yet to introduce when really you should have heard of them by now and all the characters could use a lot of fleshing out, despite this being Nikolii's story. Not to mention I'm writing and posting whatever strikes my fancy which plays havoc with the mood of the story.

What I'm thinking about doing is using this thread to keep me focused on the story, but only release the ending as part of the completed package in a new thread. Without the proper build-up and all the elements still in my head in play, I am afraid the climax of The Fall is going to lack sincerity.

I hear you.

Maybe write teasers for public consumption - then hit up GW to sponsor you to write the story you want to write?

Dawg, I'm only 17. This is as much a hobby as Warhammer 40k. I'm not looking to make any money on it, especially if it means getting entangled with trying to publish something when I have so much schooling to get through. That is a very kind sentiment though, thank you.

Imaginations only degrade as you get older IMO. Go for it, you clearly have the passion and skill.