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Alright, this is just the beginning of a short story I'm in the process of writing. As far as I know, this is the first Tyranid POV story on Dakka, following a Lictor as it stalks its "prey", a Guardsmen squad in a fortified city. Italics are the Lictor's thoughts. More will be posted soon, and critique is appreciated. Enjoy!

Outrider

Borelias was a dying world. Gripped in the clutches of tyrannoforming, the planet’s biosphere was being consumed and converted into a more appropriate form for Tyranids. Cities had been overrun, leaving most of the planet under the invader’s control. The only remaining outpost for humanity was the city of Lumes in the Northern Hemisphere. Fortified against attacks, with heavy weapons emplacements manned by regiments of the Imperial Guard, the city had enough defenses to repel any Tyranids that approached.

Well, almost any.
* * *
It swiftly made its way through the city, traveling through alleys and over roofs to avoid being seen. Its stealthy approach was aided by its chameleonic properties, letting it virtually blend in to its surroundings. Had anything happened to be gazing along its path, it would have appeared as nothing more than a shimmer in the air or distortion like that caused by radiating heat. Its mission was to learn what it could about the strengths and weaknesses of the city’s defenses, and thin out the ranks of the defenders as much as it could. It paused for a moment on the roof of a derelict hab, quickly taking in its surroundings and scanning for any targets. As it looked around, it suddenly noticed movement not far from its position.
Prey? Possibly. Investigate.
Leaping to a rooftop closer to the disturbance, it confirmed what it had seen: there was movement, and it was indeed prey.
Prey. Many prey, in herd. Follow and learn. Kill when separated.
Unbeknownst to themselves, the squad of Guardsmen was now in hostile territory.
* * *
Quickly moving from roof to roof, it tracked its prey for several hours. Finally, it got its first chance to carry out its mission when two of its prey split off from the pack. After discussing something with the herd’s leader vocally, which it found to be a highly inefficient method of communication, the rest of the herd continued onwards while the two stragglers went into a nearby alley. While one turned to watch the alley’s mouth, the other went behind a large container and partially removed its artificial coverings, apparently to relieve itself.
Prey separated. Kill observant one first, then distracted one. Continue to follow herd after.
Satisfied with this course of action, the Lictor dropped down into the alley behind the watchful Guardsmen and darted forwards to make its first kill.

This is very well written; you have an excellent writing style, for lack of a better term. Its easy and enjoyable to read. Also, I like that the story is focused on Tyranids; us Tyranid players don't get enough love from Games Workshop.

I'll make sure to read the next update.

I love it. The Lictor just seems so cute because of the way he thinks.

I like it, rare piece of work that really makes Tyranids interesting in a story.

Sorry for the lack of updates, guys! I ran into this thing called life, so, yeah...anyways, back to it!

Gabriel Alecson had been a member of the Borelias Imperial Guard regiment for the last five years. He had fought gangers, traitors, and even a small group of mutants with courage, being promoted to Corporal and serving in the Governor's Honor Guard for a short while. He had a promising career, and had recently been considered for promotion to Sergeant. He should be manning the the battlements, not stuck patrolling the city's lower-class areas! And now, because of some idiot Sergeant who had just taken over the squad, he was stuck babysitting a freshly-inducted Guardsmen who couldn't tell a Gaunt from a Ripper!
"Golden Throne, what did I do to deserve this?" Gabriel muttered to himself as the focus of his irritation, one Private Thomas Keener, took a dump behind a dumpster. The irony wasn't lost on him. "Throne, Keener, are you done yet?" he shouted over his shoulder.
"No! Geez, last night's meal is still givin' me issues. Will you just relax, Corp?"
Sighing explosively, Gabriel looked back towards the alley's entrance. Why did the Sergeant make him stay behind, he wondered? Keener couldn't get lost, and there was no way any 'nids could get into the city. He was still muttering to himself when he heard the thump behind him. Half-hoping that Keener had somehow been hit by falling debris, he turned around to check on the Private.

He never got a chance to scream.

As I said before, you have an excellent writing style. Nice new part. My only complaint is that its waaaaay too short.

Needs more! Great writing and very compelling. Can't wait for the next update.

Once more unto the breach...

It saw its prey turn at the sound of its landing, saw its visual receptors expand and its mouth open. Exactly the opportunity it had been waiting for. Closing almost impossibly quick, it extended its feeding tendrils and attacked. Gripping its prey tightly, the probing tentacles quickly entered the mouth, nostrils, and sound and visual receptors. Blood poured from the orifices as the tentacles wormed towards the prey's brain. Shaking and spasming, the prey made only small choking noises as its nervous system was sent into overload. And finally, the tendrils brushed against the brain.
* * *
Gabriel was instantly plunged into a living hell. Taken by surprise, he had offered no resistance. Now waves of pain washed over him, excruciating and intense. The creature had blinded him, rendered him deaf and mute, and removed his sense of smell. But he could still feel the thing's tentacles burrowing through his head, feel every millimeter of their advance like a power sword being stabbed into his forehead. He felt the tendrils brush his brain - Throne, it was in his brain - and a new level of pain hit him, so pure that it was sickening. He was burning, on fire, like he had been doused in plasma, and he couldn't control his body at all. He felt his bowels fail and his heart skip erratically, but still the pain continued. A horrifying feeling hit him as he felt his memories being drained away into the Tyranid's mind, and as the darkness slowly closed in around him, the pain was replaced by a sudden, final realization. He had not fought the Xenos to the death, but had instead been used as a conduit through which the invaders could pour into the city. He was a traitor. In light of his massive failure, the pain was suddenly more desirable than the feelings of betrayal and shame that filled his now-empty brain.
* * *
Absorbing the last of the prey's memories into its mind, the Lictor shuddered in what amounted to pleasure.
Yesss...so good...need more!
As the rush of feeling continued, its feeding tendrils slowly retracted, exiting from the prey's carcass with a wet shlick as the carcass fell to the ground and continued to drain of fluid. The sound of the corpse hitting snapped the Lictor out of its momentary bliss. It was suddenly annoyed by its distraction, because it had now given the other prey warning of its existence.
Careless...other prey now knows of presence. May raise warning. Fight back. Kill.
Theoretically, it now mattered little if it was killed. It knew the best ways into the city, ways that were secret and unguarded. But that knowledge had already passed to the Swarm. It still wanted to continue its hunt, however, and it now had enough information to do that. It knew that its newest prey was Private Thomas Keener, the "herd" that it was tracking was led by Sergeant O'Malley, and that it had until sundown to take them all down. Realizing it must quickly continue, the Lictor re-focused on its current situation.
Still one other. Must kill. Quickly, before it alerts others. Before it fights back. Then, can continue hunting others in the herd.
Turning, it prepared to make its second kill of the day.

Again, leaves me wanting more. I like that you've done a Tyranid story rather than writing a SM one.

Thank you! School takes up a fair amount of my time, but I'll post another update in the next few days. Glad you're enjoying it!
And besides, there are way too many SM stories out there. Xenos should have some fun, too!

Excellent new entry! Write more!

Don't want to bother you but when are you writing another installment, I really want to know what happens to the guard squad.

Hornifex wrote:Don't want to bother you but when are you writing another installment, I really want to know what happens to the guard squad.

Same. We readers demand moarr!

I'll try to be patient though.

This is really cool dude! I'm jealous tbh keep writing I want to read more!

The thing that really grabs me in is the uniqueness. I've never read a story about a tyranid and you portray it very well

Merry day-after-Christmas! I am truly sorry for the delay, my loyal readers. Life has been keeping me quite busy lately. Between school and Christmas preparation, life can be summed up as...
YYYYYYEEEEAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Alright, I'm done raging. Let's get back to the story!

Private Thomas Keener was not happy. A hard day's patrolling some random part of the city hadn't helped his stomach recover from last night's horrible enchiladas. The greasy little things had run right through him, depriving him of some much-needed sleep. He had managed to hold it together for most of his duty time. But after hours of repression, his innards were repaying him tenfold. And now, stuck behind a smelly dumpster in some crappy alley, paired up with a Corporal who seemingly hated him, and with some very unpleasant bowel movements, he didn't see any way it could get worse.
But you don't have to see something for it to kill you.
* * *
It moved forward, silently, slowly, approaching the waste receptacle with all the caution it could manage. Its camouflage was good, but its prey was only a few lengths away. At that distance, Private Keener was bound to notice the disturbance in the air where its invisibility didn't match the reality of the world around it. At least, assuming he had a chance to notice.
Must use caution. The prey is wary. Can smell the hormones from its body. It will be more observant, especially with no contact from other. Must surprise..."
The Lictor knew that a single misstep now could ruin the plans laid by the Hive Mind. It already felt a slight sense of disapproval of its actions from the Norn Queen on the Hive Ship in orbit. That slight disapproval could very quickly elevate into unbridled, lethal fury. The Queen could kill it from orbit through the mental link to the Hive Mind in an instant, with no need for tooth or claw, toxin or parasite. An unfamiliar feeling, one it recognized as fear from its pirated memories, trickled into its mind. If it wanted to remain alive - and, more importantly, open up the city for the waiting Horde - it would have to make its next moves very carefully. As the prey finally vocalized a question to its first kill, its roaming eyes took in an exposed entrance to the underground sewer system. Slowly, with the fear fading away, a plan began to form in the now-careful Lictor's mind.
* * *
Hearing a dull thump from the other side of the dumpster, followed by a quick intake of breath from Corporal Alecson, Keener's mind was instantly wrenched away from his self-pity and into a state of part caution, part fear. Hearing nothing more from the Corporal , his mind leapt to two conclusions: either he had just been startled by something, or a piece of debris had fallen on the man and knocked him out. While these both seemed very likely, something in Keener made him reach for his Lasgun while calling out.
"Corp, you OK?" he hesitantly asked. After hearing no response, he asked again, louder: "Corporal Alecson? Sir, is something wrong?"
No response.
Now worry was replacing his fear. The Corporal had been hit by something, and been incapacitated. Hopefully, the Corp's vox was still working. If it wasn't, Keener would have to drag the man back to HQ by himself. At least I managed to memorize the map for this quadrant while I was on the head last night, he thought ruefully. Pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt, he raised his Lasgun into a half-ready position and walked out from behind the dumpster.
* * *
Hearing the prey move out from behind its cover, the Lictor remained motionless and unseen in its hiding spot. Suddenly, and with a bit of chagrin, it realized that the body of the first was still lying in a pool of blood in the center of the alley. In plain sight. It knew that it had to act quickly, or there would be no hope of completing its task. An unacceptable outcome.
There!
Judging from the prey's sudden increase in respiration, it had spotted the body: a speculation confirmed by the prey rushing past it and heading towards the corpse. With its back turned, the prey was an easy target.
NOW!
Private Thomas Keener's fate was sealed. With all the speed it could manage, while balancing the need to remain unnoticed until it was too late, the Lictor struck.

This is why lictors are cool, keep up the good work.

100th post! Huzzah! Story-wise, I'm just focusing on what happens to Private Keener in this installment. This is going to be a good one, so hold on to your hats!

EDIT: To address the fact that this update was a wall of text, half of the story will be moved down to my next post. This will hopefully result in a more legible entry. Apologies for any reading inconveniences this may have caused.

Walking out from behind the dumpster, the first thing Keener noticed was the smell. There was an odd, metallic scent in the air that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. It seemed familiar, just on the fringes of his mind, but he couldn’t quite place it…
A few seconds later, the answer jumped to the forefront of his mind. As he stepped forward, he heard a slight splashing noise .Looking down, Keener saw a pool of blood, still crimson, lapping at the toes of his left foot. Mouth falling open in shock and horror, hands going numb, he gazed into the expanse uncomprehendingly. His mind had shut down at such a traumatic sight, and it took a few moments to reboot. His breath suddenly started coming in short, quick gasps; his original fears had been confirmed. Oh Throne, the Corp is down. I knew something hit him, I just knew it! He must be nearly dead, with all this blood on the ground…I’d better find him fast, and get him back to Command.
Looking up, Keener followed the pool of blood back to its source with his eyes. It looked like it was coming from behind the garbage bags piled up by the alley’s entrance. Focusing on the pile, Keener saw something that looked suspiciously like the sole of a Guard-issue combat boot…
There he is…Oh, Emperor, please let him still be alive!
Running towards the alley, Keener paid little attention to the large blood puddle that he was stepping in, oblivious to the blood that splashed up and seeped into his pant legs. As he skidded around the bags, he nearly stepped right on the Corporal’s legs. Lying face down on the ground, Corporal Alecson was right in front of the onrushing Private. Swearing as he tried to kill his momentum, Keener lost his balance and landed hard on his back next to the Corporal’s limp form. Groaning, he rolled over and raised himself up on his knees, his Lasgun lying forgotten on the ground where it has fallen. Shaking his head to clear it, he crawled over to the Corporal and reached around his neck to check the man’s pulse. His pain was rapidly forgotten when he realized that Corporal Alecson’s pulse was undetectable.
Damn it…too late. Need to find his vox and call for a medivac. Hope they have a Valk or Chimera stationed near here.
Grunting with the exertion, Keener rolled the Corporal’s body over to find the man’s vox. What he saw instead was something that made him so terrified, he couldn’t recall what it was like to be safe. Fighting the extreme nausea welling up inside him, he stumbled away and averted his eyes. Losing the fight, he bent over and vomited, emptying his stomach of his meager breakfast and the remains of last night’s enchiladas. He weakly rested his hands on his knees and tried to regain his strength, attempting to purge his mind of the gruesome image. Where the Corporal’s face had been, there was just emptiness. His eye sockets were bloody craters, his nose replaced by a gaping tear, his mouth torn around the edges, and his ears all but gone. It looked like something had shoved a bunch of drills into every possible opening they could find. If Keener focused, he could see the man’s brain through the holes…melted. Whatever had happened to the man, it hadn’t been accidental or natural…

To continue the story, skip down to below LoneLictor's comment.

Great new entry. As I've said before, your prose is excellent. My only complaint is the entry is kind of a big wall of text, which makes it difficult to read.

Part II of the Keener chapter resumes here.

As soon as that thought entered his head, Keener was knocked flat on his face. There was an intense pain in his back where something had stabbed into him. Trying to get up, he was suddenly yanked backwards a few feet. Time seemed to slow. The terror he had just recently felt suddenly returned with a vengeance. He attempted to cry out, but the sound froze in his throat. While his world moved in slow motion, his mind worked at a speed faster than Warp travel. Something had him, probably the same thing that had gotten the Corporal. And Keener had seen what had happened to him. Feeling himself yanked back once more, he exploded into action, desperately scrabbling for a handhold on the ground; a crack, a divot, a pothole, anything to delay the inevitable. Keener looked over his shoulder for just one instant, and saw something that instantly made him freeze up with paralyzing fear. Embedded in his back was some kind of a claw, mottled white with faded purple spots: Tyranid skin. The claw was attached to some kind of ligaments, which stretched backwards into the darkness of a sewer pipe, about ten feet away. And gazing out from the darkness were the coldest eyes Keener had ever seen. Forget the regimental Commissar, these eyes were absolutely soulless, devoid of anything resembling humanity. Eyes that reached into his soul, consuming him from the inside…
Suddenly regaining control of his body, Keener resumed his frantic search for an anchor that would keep him alive. As his hands flew over the receding ground in front of him, his fingers brushed something cold and metallic. His Lasgun! Lying where he had left it, it now offered him salvation. Grabbing hold of it, Keener disarmed the safety and summoned all his remaining strength. Now only a few feet from the pipe, and with adrenaline coursing through his body, he kicked out hard and flipped himself onto his back. As he flipped, the claw was dragged across his back, cutting into and through his spine. Ignoring the pain of shredded skin, the curious lack of sensation from his waist and legs, and the intense fear that had flooded his mind, he raised the gun to his shoulder. Taking aim, he offered up a quick prayer to the God-Emperor as the Tyranid saw his weapon and sprung forward out of its cover.
Immortal Emperor of Mankind, you protect us from the Xenos, from the Heretic and from the Daemonic. In return, we have faith in you and act as your mighty arm, slaying all those who threaten your mighty Empire. Now, through my faith and your protection, I ask that you guide my shot and slay this beast, so that I may live and the spirit of Corporal Alecson may be avenged!
As he uttered this prayer, Keener was flooded by an inexplicable feeling of strength and calmness. As the beast rushed towards him, time seemingly stood still. Lining up his sights between those cold, alien eyes, he knew that the God-Emperor was there with him. As he prepared to take the shot, a single thought rose unbidden to his mind.
Suffer not the alien to live. With that mantra resounding throughout his head, he pulled the trigger.

Yeah, now it's better. Poor Keener. Considering that lasguns are low quality flashlights and Lictors are (arguably) the pinnacle of Tyranid evolution, he's gonna need a lot of luck if he wants to not have his brains eated.

I AM NOW ADDICTED.
your storytelling skills are amazing and tyranid stories are rare. this is a great post and i am greatly enjoying reading this. please write more

Tracking the prey with its eyes, it shot out its right hand, the hooked claws on it snapping open. Its hand slammed into the unwary target, the hooks closing on impact and finding purchase in the skin of its back. The prey tumbled, landing hard on the ground in front of it. With the prey incapacitated, the Lictor began to pull it back into the darkness. The powerful muscles that its genus had been constructed with easily handled the human's weight. At first paralyzed, likely due to ignorance or shock, the prey finally moved. It searched the receding ground in front of it for some kind of hold that would allow it to resist its inexortable backwards movement.
Foolish. No hope is left. It is my prey, blind to its hunter. Soon it will be MINE!
Finally, it had the thought to check what it was that had captured it. Rotating its head, it gazed over its shoulder, first noticing the claw attached to its back. Slowly, with wide eyes, it followed the tendons back to their source. Looking into the darkness where the Lictor was concealed, the prey locked eyes with the hunter. Its fear was immediately evident. The Lictor could see panic welling up, and was amused when the prey began feeling at an even greater speed for something it could grasp onto.
Yes. Look. Find nothing. Let fear take you. Do not struggle. Death is coming. You will soon have no fear...
It had uttered that thought too soon. The prey's hand found its weapon, which it had dropped earlier. Clutching it tight, the prey's relief poured off it in hormone-laden waves. However, instead of reacting aggressively - like any intelligent creature would - an unnatural stillness suddenly possessed the prey, and it did not resist the Lictor's pull. The Lictor was confused by this, but also pleased.
You see no way out. You realize there is no escape. You stop fighting it...fighting me. Smart. Embrace your death...
But the prey had not given up. Against all logic, it kicked itself over, the Lictor's clawed hand shredding through the prey's skin. As the claw passed through the spine, the prey's eyes suddenly lost their fear and hardened. It raised the weapon, and the Lictor could see the barrel point right at it's head. The first shot wouldn't kill it, but it would HURT. And even if the prey was killed immediately after the shot, its mission would be over. The noise of the weapon firing would alert the rest of its prey to its presence.
NO! Can not fail! WILL NOT FAIL! The prey can not be victorious...can it? CAN IT?!?
As those thoughts entered its head, the Norn Queen reacted. Her anger was immense, boundless, painful...EXCRUCIATING! The pain! Worse than any injury the prey could possibly inflict! The Lictor flinched as its Queen's wrath poured through its mental link to the Hive Mind. It would be punished severely for its failure. It could already feel her beginning to shut down its organs, even as she began to sever its link to the Horde. At this, panic welled up immediately in the Lictor. Even if the Queen spared it, the lack of its mental link to the Hive Mind would drive it insane, eventually killing it altogether. It could not allow that to happen! In desperation, it abandoned its hiding place altogether, springing towards the prey with talons raised. Even as the pain continued to increase to indescribable levels, the Lictor refused to accept failure, making a last, futile attempt to redeem itself even as the prey pulled the trigger and its fate was sealed.

Wow, that was a hard bit to write. Don't worry, after this, there WILL be more!

Cool stuff Odd One. I like the idea of the norn queen watching and severing the link. I look forward to more.

LoneLictor wrote:Yeah, now it's better. Poor Keener. Considering that lasguns are low quality flashlights and Lictors are (arguably) the pinnacle of Tyranid evolution, he's gonna need a lot of luck if he wants to not have his brains eated.

Actually they are very powerful weapons. One shot will kill a person quite easily and with auto fire they can empty hundreds of rounds a minute, they are nearly pinpoint accurate and have a high capacity of shots in each energy cell.. A lasgun wouldn't have too much trouble drilling through power armour in a few seconds. They just them weaken for the purposes of the game.


Brilliant writing Odd One Out. Im rooting for the IG

Great new entry. And I meant that lasguns are weak relative to Lictors.

Okay, I haven't updated this story recently due to one thing: Finals. Anyways, now that my personal living hell is over, I can get back to the Lictor's now!

As the trigger depressed, the Lasgun's firing pin moved forward to impact the priming mechanism. This in turn would send a spark into the weapon's firing chamber, igniting the self-replenishing accelerant contained within. The resulting chemical reaction siphoned off some of the energy from the Lasgun's power cell and transformed it into a semi-plasmatic state. The pressure wave then forced this refined energy into the focusing lenses contained in the barrel, refining and accelerating the shot as it exited the barrel and sped towards its target.
Or at least, it should have.

Keener was Tertiary Reserve, and due to the massive invasion, had had little time in which to be trained. Thus, his Lasgun wasn't the best maintained weapon amongst the ranks. Due to some careless handling, it had become closely acquainted with three walls, many patches of ground, the treads of a Chimera, and the skull of a particularly annoying Guardsman. While durable enough to survive these encounters, his Lasgun had suffered some minor internal damage. Combined with the rushed production of weapons to replace those lost in the beginning stages of the invasion, this led to the Lasgun's innards being rendered nonfunctional. Something that Keener unfortunately didn't know, due to his skipping of the irregular target practice held by the Regiment's commander. As the trigger was pulled, the firing pin snapped inside its casing, and his last chance of survival along with it.
* * *
Nothing happened. Keener blinked, not comprehending, and pulled the trigger again. The gun didn't fire. The strength and calm he had felt moments before vanished just as quickly. As the Tyranid's claws descended in an arc towards his head, Keener had time for one last thought.
Oh, feth...
* * *
Nothing happened. As the prey blinked, its confusion was shared by both the Lictor and its matriarch. The Norn Queen's lethal efforts ceased, and her surprise was palpable to her servant. Before the situation could resume its previous course, the Lictor swung downwards with its shoulder claw, puncturing clean through the prey's head and embedding in the hard ground underneath it. The sudden flash of pain was almost welcome in comparison to the agony it had just recently suffered.The prey spasmed for a second, then lay still as its life fled from its flesh. Confused by the sudden turn of events, it just stood there for several long moments, trying to figure out what had happened.
Not...dead? What...why?
It glanced down, seeing the prey's skewered head on its claw, then taking in the weapon that had almost been its undoing. The truth of the matter slowly formed in its mind, as the Norn Queen watched on, curious.
Prey's weapon...didn't go off? Yes, yes. Did not work for some reason. Means other prey still know nothing of this. Must act quickly, before truth is found out.
It felt the Norn Queen, satisfied with the resolution, withdraw from its mind, her rage abating. Relief bloomed momentarily in its mind, but was quickly discarded. While aware how close to death it had come, the Lictor knew it still had work to do. Withdrawing its claw from the ground, and then from the remains of the prey's head, it climbed back to the rooftops and darted off in the direction of its remaining prey.

Well, then...two down, ten to go. This isn't the end, my friends, but instead merely the beginning...and it only becomes more interesting (and bloodier) from here on.

Awesome writing man. I like that enchiladas still exist in 40k

Very good

Love this story, odd one. I might write one of my own about a Necron Deathmark

IHateNids wrote:Love this story, odd one. I might write one of my own about a Necron Deathmark

Same, I might write mine about one of my possessed plague marines.