This is the fluff for my new BA chapter! It still needs some work. I had this on Background section but realized that isn't really the place to put it. My army is based on Sang Guard with dante but i use normalish looking marines.

As i make the army I plan to add fluff and stories onto here. At the moment i have my fluff below as well as a story for a marine being traded to Ice Angel!

The Sky-Warden are a chapter founded from the Blood Angels. they were founded by marines that took a bit too much joy in flying, it seemed to heighten their bloodlust and frenzy, when it was time for the Blood Angels to create a new chapter these marines quickly bonded to create a new chapter.
(I have trouble with that part unsure how chapters are really made.)
Their first action was upon the chaos invaded lava planet of Mil'dar. The natives of the planet called these flying marines: the sky-wardens, and so out of pride for their first battle as a chapter they called themselves the Sky-Wardens. They took up Mil'dar as their homeworld. it is a planet of lava seas, where only the mountains are livable.
The chapter utilizes JPs only, They do not use Devastators or tanks, they have some in their reserve companies but very few. The devastators tend to be the first trainers for the scouts more than anything else, they try to train simple things such as bolter drills, and such. This is due to how on their homeworld such things are useless, and due to their addiction of sorts to the sky.They are not stupid though, focusing their battleplans on quick lightening like attacks that target key locations, this is to completely demoralize and confuse the enemy. They are not into decorative armor thinking that this breeds egotistic thoughts and arrogance which is frowned upon. Teamwork and self-sacrifice are instead idolized. Their commanders and specialists (chaplains, libbies, etc) are dressed-up in other to spread moral in imperial troops and marines.
Rank is shown in the color of the helmet: white for sanguinary priests, gold for honor guard, and black for High-brothers. Most of the chapter is made up of High-Brothers which are almost like veterans. These High-Brothers wear armor that mimics power armor but has more foundations and drug enhancers in order to give the wearer more endurance (2+ armor save), they also use bolt pistols with shotgun like shells that are filled with lava from the planet, this breaks apart into little pieces of lava (like shotgun shrapnel) this is highly deadly (the str 4 ap 4 stormbolter weapons sang guard have). There are a great amount of sang priests in the army, and these marines hold the most important drugs and combat enhancers, they let them out into the air, and the specialized power armor sucks up these drugs giving the marines more endurance.
There are no Death Company in the chapter, this is not to say that the black rage doesn't effect this chapter just as much. They are treated differently. The marines taken up by the black rage are saved in sleep till they are brought back to their homeworld. Once they are back at the homework they are stripped and put onto shrines throughout the planet. Squads of scouts travel to these temples on land speeders of crude JPs (common on the planet) and must battle the death company with whatever weapons the prospect brought. The scouts who live can become marines. This is extremely hard, but at the same time the death company has become crazed from the lack of people around and the horrifying dreams.

There is also a group know within the chapter as the Sleepless Blades. These are marines who have started to feel the black rage but do not wish to become taken over by it. They paint their armor white as a symbol of the purity they strive for, and paint their helmets blue to show the inner calm which is required. They then go off to battle, usually suicide missions, in order to die an honorable death. If their will power fails before this honorable death can be found they are used as "death company" and placed in shrines as mentioned above.

Now here is my fluff for ice angel's marine swap that will be happening in the near future. Soon i will be making a P&M blog, but plan to do that when I have some commission models coming in so i have time to finish up my other armies XD




Brother Desai sat crosslegged by the banks of the Kirak lava river that surrounded the fortress-temple of the Sky-Wardens Space Marine chapter.The burning steam rose up slowly torching Desai's bare body, a feeling that would normally scorch a regular man to death, but this was a space marine, and not only any space marine but he was a native of a planet scarred with lava streams and oceans. He could barely feel the heat, his body had grown accustomed to his home-world heated environment and feeling a warm embrace was comforting: It helped him think.

His power armor was laid out before him, it glowed in the light of the molten flame. He looked over the bright red armor with its golden double headed imperial eagle taking up its chest plate. It almost looked alive in light. That made him smile, the emperor's soul was alive in all that was blessed by him. The dark black helmet he wore through countless battles had been tossed to the side, its top dented slightly, barely noticeable. He could notice it, he could notice every battle scar on his armor as if it was his skin.
His fingers traced the small notch, feeling every inch of the indent. He could see the marks from the ork choppa's teeth marks. He tried to think of the strike, but he couldn't. His thoughts had been elsewhere during the battle, he couldn't get the images out of his head. That's what his company called them, The images, cursed images! The sanguinary priest had asked him why his eyes looked so glazed, but Desai hadn't responded, just nodded. He couldn't lie about the images, but he couldn't speak of them either. He knew the sanguinary priests would be watching him now, and so he would have to figure out what best to do. He could recall them slightly now. he had felt like a winged god, swooping down upon the twisted infested steel of that battle barge. He could almost feel the slash which the arch-rival brought this hero down with. The last image was of Horus' clawed fist coming towards his face.

Desai roared, slamming his head onto the ground. His teeth lashed out, biting deep into his lip. He could taste blood. The images were starting to take a-hold of him again, he couldn't let that happen! He would not fall to the black rage! At least not today. The thought sickened him.

He knew he would fall soon though, he knew that his mind would not last long. He could already feel it strain. He could barely remember his officer's name, let alone see the enemy as anything other than the chaos skum that tore the walls of holy terra apart. He knew he would fall apart soon, but the idea horrified him. He didn't want to become entombed in some mountain shrine as a trial for scout teams dreaming of becoming full fledged marines. If he looked back far enough in his memory, he could remember commanding his own team of scouts, leading them to the volcanic peak of Mount Varkei where they found their last trial. A man, once a marine, covered in grime and blood. His eyes more like an animal than anything that had once given praise to the god-emperor. They found an enraged pyschopath, a killer, who for decades had been alone with only his deranged thoughts, rocks, and the bones of previous scout squad who had failed to grant him mercy. Desai remembered his own team, how the creature attacked them so ferociously. Desai himself had took the monster down, he had watch the being tear apart his teammates, leaving only him alive. They slowly circled each other, staring into each other's eyes waiting for one of them to make a wrong move. Desai had vowed then that he would never fall this low, never become like this marine. And with that thought, and the god-emperor's blessing, he had sliced the creature down, his power sword splitting the man's head in two. It almost seemed as if the man had wanted to die, wanted to have his life taken away.
Desai knew he would fall like that marine, it was a fault they all had, all who were descendant of the blood angel line. But he knew he would fall differently, that he would die honorably rather than decay. He would keep his willpower so he could maintain his honor.

He let out a long sigh. He could feel the shadow of the approaching Sanguinary priest growing behind him. Desai slowly picked up the container of compressed white paint, blessed by the tech-priest, and began to repaint his armor. It was time for him to become a Sleepless Blade, a marine who had to find a honorable death before his willpower drained and he became what he most feared.

The sanguinary priest just nodded in saddened understanding.



hope you like! comments would be loved!

Nice job Sage! Keep it up. I will make sure Brother Desai has an honorable death. Or will I? mwahahaha.

yay! hahahha we will see, we will see. either works for me, but i'm sure what you do with him will effect my chapter at least a bit depending on what happens to him, either a word in passing, or some fluff stuff!

Very good Sage. My only comment is to put a space between those paragraphs to make it easier to read. Narrative is excellent!

Nice job! Me want pics!

hahah i will try to get up pics soon. i have one model painted in the white color scheme and maybe will have one more done that way tonight, but prob wont since i just got back from DC and the rally. I'll be starting a PandM blog soon.


thanks git and i will fix that!

Not a big update, will get one up soon! just wanted to throw this on here so I have all my chapter fluff in one place. Will start an ongoing story soon, not on Brother Deasi since he is being transported to the Ice Angels Chapter, who ICEANGEL will grant him, hopefully, an honorable death in his thread.

Company Layout:

The chapter has a very different way for laying out each company. They only ever had 9 companies, each one falling under three groups: Thunder, Wind, or Hurricane.
At the moment there are 7 companies, the 8th company died defending their homeworld's sector from a tyranid splinter fleet. The 9th company is at the moment believed to be turning to chaos.

1st-4th Thunder Companies
1 HostLord (their title for captain)
Honor Guard
3 chaplains
1 libbie
5 sang priests
50 High-Brothers (Assault marines/sang guard)
25 Veterans
30 Scouts
10 Landspeeders
2 Dreds, one is usually a Libbie
1 techpriest

Each Thunder Company is expected to be able to be its own force able to deal with any threat, they use thunderhawk gunships to drop their winged assaults, most of these gunships are stripped of thier guns in order to have better armor against Anti-Aircraft guns as well as more speed for quick raids. Stormravens are rare and are used only in the worse situations.

5th and 6th Wind Company (reserve companies)
one LordHost
Honor Guard
Libbie
3 chaplains
5 sang priests
50 High-Brothers
20 Devastor Marines
20 Scouts
5 land speeders
4 stormravens
2 techmarines
1 dred

These are kept around the homeworld, and when needed are quickly used to bostler defenses and support thunder elements. They use stormravens due to being needed to react quickly.

Hurricane Company
One HighLord
Chaplain
3 sang priests
5 techmarines
20-60 Sleepless Blades
10 Terminator Veterans
3 Land Raiders
4 Razorbacks
2 Preditors
5 stormravens
1 super heavy (Unsure what yet)

This is where the few tanks are kept as well the elite terminator armored marines. The sleepless blades are considered part of this company though they tend to roam solely in order to find their honorable death!

I have some stories written up but don't have too much time to get them on now since I have to catch a bus home! but i will soon, just thought i would post this up quick. I plan to start having a longterm story starting up soon instead of these little info posts!

Hope you guys enjoy some stuff here, much more exciting stuff coming up!!

Cool!

thanks! i just got home, have to change suite rooms in a few days and my ocd makes me have to at least start packing a bit!! but tonight ill have some fluff up!!

Ok I am a bit confused. I thought the Sky Wardens were all about jump packs yet you have terminators and dreadnoughts. That doesn't seem very Sky Warden like.

I will include a list at start of all characters I add in along with their rank to help with any issues with names I will only do this with characters who play some role, not the ones with one line, etc.

List of characters:
Sergeant Korn, Sleepless Blade, ex-sergeant of assault squad
Brother-Champion Ondatje
HostLord Freneau


Sergeant Korn watched his once proud brother chained upon the marble slab that lay at the far end of the temple's one and only chamber. Brother Melvar had once been sergeant Korn's finest brother-in-arms. When Korn lead the assault squad with his blood-thirsty scream, “Honor In Death!”, Melvar would be right beside him, his chainsword whirling with delight and his plasma pistol fuming as he squeezed off well placed shot after well placed shot. Many times throughout numerous campaigns they fought together, on Hork they had saved each other time again from orks to traitor scum. At that time, Korn had expected Melvar would eventually lead his own squad into battle as his skill and devotion were unquestionable.

Things change though. Some people say war kills dreams… (Korn smiled at such an idea), there were worse things out there that killed dreams. Things a chainsword can't slice through.

A roar filled the chamber as the chained marine attempted to scream his way from captivity. His bare muscles strained with supreme effort, but the chains held, having been specially crafted by tech-priests to withstand the power of a crazed marine. Korn could see the scars of many wars on Melvar’s body, many had been “earned” at the same time as Korn’s own scars… fighting side-by-side against the enemies of man.

He looked away: it was hard to see the black rage at its worse. He knew it was always lurking, but to see it, that was another story. It was worse than any battleground.

He turned around, leaving the screaming marine to his torment. He started to walk down the temple stairs, but stopped when he noticed movement on the trail below. A few figures were marching up the twisted mountain path from the far away landing pad. A Storm Raven rested there, newly painted, the Sky-Warden symbol carefully executed upon each door.

Korn had been hoping to leave before they showed up, but it was too late. Now he must face them. He watched the red armored figures, black helmets by their sides, being lead up the path by a skull-headed chaplain. His ruby-red eyes glittered in the light of the lava ocean that surrounded the mountain.

The chaplain didn't give Korn a second glance and trekked past him towards Melvar's howls as easily as if he was going to the mess hall. The other warriors clutched their chainswords in anticipation for the worse. Scowls were driven into their faces, and sadness was in their eyes. Each time Melvar issued a new howl a marine would flinch, clenching his eyes at the thought that at some point he could suffer the same fate. As they entered the temple, no one returned Korn's gaze or even glanced at him; it seemed as if no one wanted to recognize the dove-white armor he wore.

The last marine in line stopped, his helmet still covering his face. He stood in front of the temple doors, facing the chained marine. He was silent, his arms stiffly by his sides as if he was trying to hold back.

"Brother-Champion Ondatje, It is a honor to know you are here to see my comrade ready for his last duty: to become the trial" Korn calmly spoke, the bloodthirsty screams from the chamber was starting to get to him, he could feel the images about to break through. He gritted his teeth and held his control.

Ondatje slowly took off his helmet revealing his bald head, broken by the three scars which covered his forehead. He snarled before looking over at Korn.

"You should not be here! It is...insulting." He spat, his eyes were filled with anger. He pronounced each word clearly and carefully, making sure none of his statement was missed.

"I wanted to see my comrade, one last time."

Ondatje raised his golden helmet, showing his rank as honor guard. "You are a sleepless blade, it won't be long till you become like him!"

"I have endured!"

Ondatje chuckled slightly, "We have all endured, I have seen more marines fall to the rage then in battle. You will be the same." He paused slightly, "The fact that you have maintained control for so long is a blessing, or should I say a curse." He sneered again, and spat. He had a habit of spitting ever since a genestealer ripped off his lower jaw. Out of vanity, he had the bionics hidden. "You always will be on the brink of falling Korn. Melvar couldn't even paint his armor before he fell, did you know that? He had the paint in his hand. I watched him. Do you know what he did with it Korn, do you know?"

"No sir." Korn could feel the dark grip of anger and hate filling him up.

"He shoved it into the skull of the scribe-servitor!" Ondatje almost grinned at the thought, "It was a silly scene, the scribe just kept blurting out nonsense; the can had hit the main portion of its brain." Ondatje licked his lips slightly. He looked back at Korn, and another hateful look came over his face. He rose up, arching his back so he rose a few inches over Korn, "Your presence here is a blemish on his honor, it is a prideful visit, a spit on his grave. Showing him you have endured when he has not. You belong on the battlefield, and I recommend you find one soon or else our next visit will be entering a new temple where your naked body will be chained onto that marble table!" Ondatje slammed his helmet on and marched into the temple. He gave Korn one last look before shutting the stone doors.

Korn watched the shut doors, they had muffled all evidence of what was going on inside. As he stared at the ornate surface, the carvings almost seemed to fly off the stone, Korn could see his primarch's winged form holding a glittering sword in the air. It was a beautiful image, Korn loved to see Sanguinius with his own eyes, it was a great source of solace and joy. He fell to the ground in reverence. He could almost feel tears in his eyes.

In a sudden rush he thrust himself upwards off the marble tile. He knew better than to allow the images to take over, even if they were wonderful. He knew the awful demonic image of the arch-traitor would follow, and that was something he couldn't look at without falling apart to some extent. Korn couldn't afford to fall apart.

Korn took one long look over the lava tipped mountains of his home world. He slowly turned his jump pack on and with a leap, began his assent into the crimson sky.

Ondatje was correct despite his arrogance. Korn needed to find a honorable death soon.



Edits have been given by the wonderful Gitsplitta! May he forever invade and pillage!

I hope you liked it, sorry if its long . feedback is wanted. I have more roughed out, but will get them up later make people wait!

IceAngel wrote:Ok I am a bit confused. I thought the Sky Wardens were all about jump packs yet you have terminators and dreadnoughts. That doesn't seem very Sky Warden like.

Theyy are all about jumppacks, but i thought every chapter has to have some termie armor and tanks even if it is rarely if ever used. I want the army to have access to these things but they are not used, that is why they are placed in a lowly strengthen company more as a honorable position then anything else.

and i love dreds, I think dreds are important to have, the idea of an ancient warrior entombed is something needed, thou I'm still trying to find a way to make a sky-warden type of dred for my army, one that seems more flying like! I may have one or two normal dreds as leftovers from their time as BA, and these would be venerable dreds that stay in the homeworld and prob wont be used and are more for wisdom and their long age/memory.

If you have ideas for a sky like dred please let me know, i haven't figured one out yet. And do you think its bad to have any mention of tanks, i thought there were so few it showed how they would rarely be used

Nice job. Really like what did with the story. But the ! at the end weren't really needed. Thats All i have to say.

Theres alot of conversions with Dreads. It could be like drop poded from orbit and it has a certain type of shape to it.

Great story Sage, I noticed that you spelled Korm like 4 different ways through out the story, but overall it was great. Good characters, good emotion. I liked it.

As for your army list, I understand what you're saying. I have a good idea for your dreadnought though. Maybe you have specially built Stormravens that hold the dreadnought in such away that they can fly around and the dreadnought can simply murder things as they fly over them. As if the dreadnought is a self sustained weapon system attached to the Stormraven.

IceAngel wrote:Great story Sage, I noticed that you spelled Korm like 4 different ways through out the story, but overall it was great. Good characters, good emotion. I liked it.

As for your army list, I understand what you're saying. I have a good idea for your dreadnought though. Maybe you have specially built Stormravens that hold the dreadnought in such away that they can fly around and the dreadnought can simply murder things as they fly over them. As if the dreadnought is a self sustained weapon system attached to the Stormraven.

Like Gundams?

Hahaha did i do too many of those? I'll kep tabs on it for my next one.

I def want one dred as a venerable dred, a dred that was kept from the chapter's time as blood angels so that the old wisdom of some of the chapter's oldest marines would be kept within the chapter.

But I would think the sky-wardens would make any new dreds look much different, so that they can fly with their comrades. I was thinking as you said of a drop pod like device, but I would rather have something that flys itself, like a huge jumppack dred which could easily be a libbie dred! haha. I'm not sure how to do it yet thou!

IceAngel wrote:Great story Sage, I noticed that you spelled Korm like 4 different ways through out the story, but overall it was great. Good characters, good emotion. I liked it.

As for your army list, I understand what you're saying. I have a good idea for your dreadnought though. Maybe you have specially built Stormravens that hold the dreadnought in such away that they can fly around and the dreadnought can simply murder things as they fly over them. As if the dreadnought is a self sustained weapon system attached to the Stormraven.

What exactly do you mean, like a dred attached to a stormraven, but its able to combat ground forces while it is attached to the stormraven. that is a pretty cool idea.

I was thinking of the Tau chicken suits type thing that fly around. but your idea if im getting it right sounds pretty cool.

it was meant to be Korn (K-o-r-n) haha ill go thru and fix it!

Yeah I noticed that too..... Who will be your famous captain?

I have a Lordhost Freneau set up to be another main character. I think I may also want a scout character as well.

Sageheart wrote:I def want one dred as a venerable dred, a dred that was kept from the chapter's time as blood angels so that the old wisdom of some of the chapter's oldest marines would be kept within the chapter.

Wow, that is SO Brother Frakatazuli from my fluff.

lol

IceAngel wrote:

Sageheart wrote:I def want one dred as a venerable dred, a dred that was kept from the chapter's time as blood angels so that the old wisdom of some of the chapter's oldest marines would be kept within the chapter.

Wow, that is SO Brother Frakatazuli from my fluff.

lol

Sounds like Captain Altorick the Oldest Crusader that is not inside a dreadnought . 1,900 years old and counting . And still walking without problems but he is so old that he is permanently not allowed to go onto the battle field. AT ALL. He has not seen a battlefield in 600 years. Even during the tyranid wars. Instead he teaches philosophy of war to Potential Captains. Sorry to post my lore but It sparked the idea of oldest marines in my head. Though Altorick doesn't really do much the old fart.
But yeah there are lots of chapter that have a very very cool Venerable Dreadnought

HAHAHAHHA S**T you caught me!

no i completely forgot about that when I thought about this, it just came to mind. I guess I should think of something new now!! haha

Ithink that is a pretty good way to have a non-converted dred in the army. I was also thinking of it being a gift from a deathwatch company. One of the Sky-warden marines in the death company did really well and was mortally wounded in battle. They emtombed him in a dred and he cont. his service, when his service was done he was given back to his chapter but he was within the reg. dred armor since the deathwatch has no reason to have flying dreds!

Asherian Command wrote:

IceAngel wrote:

Sageheart wrote:I def want one dred as a venerable dred, a dred that was kept from the chapter's time as blood angels so that the old wisdom of some of the chapter's oldest marines would be kept within the chapter.

Wow, that is SO Brother Frakatazuli from my fluff.

lol

Sounds like Captain Altorick the Oldest Crusader that is not inside a dreadnought . 1,900 years old. And still walking without problems but he is so old that he is permanently not allowed to go onto the battle field. AT ALL. He has not seen a battlefield in 600 years. Even during the tyranid wars. Instead he teaches philosophy of war to Potential Captains.
But yeah there are lots of chapter that have a very very cool Venerable Dreadnought

where is the fluff for that guy, it sounds awesome!

Sageheart wrote:

Asherian Command wrote:

IceAngel wrote:

Sageheart wrote:I def want one dred as a venerable dred, a dred that was kept from the chapter's time as blood angels so that the old wisdom of some of the chapter's oldest marines would be kept within the chapter.

Wow, that is SO Brother Frakatazuli from my fluff.

lol

Sounds like Captain Altorick the Oldest Crusader that is not inside a dreadnought . 1,900 years old. And still walking without problems but he is so old that he is permanently not allowed to go onto the battle field. AT ALL. He has not seen a battlefield in 600 years. Even during the tyranid wars. Instead he teaches philosophy of war to Potential Captains.
But yeah there are lots of chapter that have a very very cool Venerable Dreadnought

where is the fluff for that guy, it sounds awesome!

Its in my head. I haven't written down all of his stuff. But I made a model for him. But it broke :(. damn kids...
He was my very first custom built captain. And I decided he would no longer do anything. As after one battle (he sat in a corner and didn't get a single kill and didn't get touched) I called him Altorick, Which means Al- Old To-Fart Rick-Useless. Because the Crusaders speak their own language well the natives that is it. And they learned this and they started making names up. Altorick got unlucky and got his name Old Fart Useless.

ohh he's a custom character of yours! thats pretty cool. I like the idea of an old teacher training marines or captains.

Sageheart wrote:HAHAHAHHA S**T you caught me!

no i completely forgot about that when I thought about this, it just came to mind. I guess I should think of something new now!! haha

Ithink that is a pretty good way to have a non-converted dred in the army. I was also thinking of it being a gift from a deathwatch company. One of the Sky-warden marines in the death company did really well and was mortally wounded in battle. They emtombed him in a dred and he cont. his service, when his service was done he was given back to his chapter but he was within the reg. dred armor since the deathwatch has no reason to have flying dreds!

I like that idea. It fits your army and gives your dread a lot of character.

oh thanks! I was going with that idea, but I wasn't sure if it would be good enough. I think it would really work off the honorable trait which is so huge among my chapter. I'm not sure if i should paint it in deathwatch colors or something else!

wat do you think?

Hi Sage! Finally got a chance to look at your second round of fluff....

I like your story very much. It's involved, passionate... has a driving pace to it, all good. It explains a bit to me about the way your chapter deals with the black rage and the BR in general... also good. I was confused a little at first as to why Cane (can I mess with the spelling too?) was met with such hostility, but you covered that in the narrative... excellent.

It needs editing. I can help with that off-list if you'd like.

But, all the important creative elements are there... it just needs to be tidied up a bit.


Wow... I could have two cool stories to read when I sit down in front of dakka... yours and Ice's. It's good to be me!

Gits

Thanks a ton! i would love editing, I always have trouble looking things over. My professors love my essay content but hate the grammer hahaha.

I'm happy you liked it! I'll be adding more tonight or morrow!

Look forward to it!

* PURGED FROM RECORD***
++++ Records of Grand-Marshal Hennet of the 3rd army++++
****PURGED FROM RECORD****

[i]Grand-Mashal, We requested backup three days ago, and I hope to the emperor you haven't sent it yet. The people who did came....They came from the sky... we had no idea... The orks were almost upon us... I looked up to the sky for help... hoping... by throne.... we thought they were on our side... they chopped through everything, the orks, my platoon died within the first minute. Please send no troops here, i repeat, there will be no one here to meet them once they find the rest of us...

***Transmission Ends***



HostLord Freneau sat upon the crashed remains of the ork battlewagon. He wiped his blow. Around him marines ran about preparing a rushed base completely with home made communication array. Freneau would never work without some soft of base to rely on. The scouts would practice their stealth abilities in attempting to outdo each others attempts to make their new hideout invisible to all, even if you walked right into it. Freneau was always proud of the speed in which his team could always be ready for their new campaign.

He looked around the ruined city streets. He had only landed on Hork for a few minutes and he could already see how it had once been a beautiful forgeworld. The sculptures and paintings that greeted each inch of each building were vivid with detail. They made the view feel as if he was living in history. History, Freneau sighed, A clay meant to be molded. And at the moment Freneau had to make sure it didn't go along the wrong path.

He had told the strikeforce that they were here to fight orks. They howled in hunger, Orks had been a large pest of late and it seemed everyone who entered the system wanted to watch ork blood spill. The Sky-Wardens had had there share of orks, and they were sick of the devastation they had witnessed. Freneau had not told them the truth. They were here for a much greater reason, The Sky-Lord himself told Freneau about the mission at hand, the importance didn't need to be told, Freneau understood. He assembled a large strikeforce, almost every veteran in the company, as well the most highly trained marines and scouts. His only pity was that his honor guard, lead by Brother-Champion Ondatje were upon Mil'dar on chapter business. Freneau wished he could have joined them, but this mission took all his attention.

He didn't want to be here. The planet was full of Imperial forces and it felt like a waste to have his expertise on a planet with 10 or more space marine strikeforces and 1000s of regiments almost ready to strike the heart of the ork invasion. Freneau wanted to be on a battleground where victory wasn't so close, where he would earn it. But Host-Lord Kiail decide to murder an entire company of imperial forces, and The Sky-Wardens had to handle it before the inquisition did. The Sky-Wardens would not be told they can't control their own brothers. Freneau snarled, his fist was clenched in anger. In a burst of fury he drew his power sword. He sprang up, his eyes blazing, in one clean swoop he sliced the lamp-post. He calmly sidestepped as the top end of the lamp-post crashed. A few heads turned, but no one stopped. He breathed heavily.

"Sir, a report of an attack on Imperial forces!" The marine barked quickly, holding a slip from the recently set up com-link, "they said the enemy attacked from.."
"The sky." Freneau cut in.
The marine nodded slowly.
"Prepare the troops, we move out now!"

Ok Here is one thing I think you should fix the God part replace it with throne or emperor be praised. God is not worshiped by any race.

Anyway good job. Love how there are 10 Strike forces. D:

ehh forgot that! thanks!

with Gitsplitta wonderful edits, as well as a few additions of my own, I have edited the story of Sergeant Korn! Thanks to Gitsplitta for giving me really great edits!

de nada bro.

I will be posting more in a few days, but I have a modeling question

I plan to have my one walking/regular dred, as mentioned a few posts back, to be a gift to a Sky-Warden marine crippled in battle during an action under the command of the deathwatch. I was thinking of having a back banner on the dred, or carried by a "squire" model, that has the marine's old deathwatch armor. I was wondering what people thought of this.

I also was wondering if anyone had any idea where to get deathwatch pads, thou i only need one so don't really want a whole pack (if anyone has one to trade that would be great) and also how customizable is the dred set? I have only painted and used AOBR dreds, and i plan to get the venerable dred since it looks boss like. But i was thinking of having room for maybe a "squire" like model to hold the banner, (i'm not really down with it being on the dred's back, i don't know why) and want to have one of the dred's legs standing on a rock or something to leave room for this model. Is this something I can do with the dred set, or would it require converting and cutting up the legs?

Asherian Command wrote:Ok Here is one thing I think you should fix the God part replace it with throne or emperor be praised. God is not worshiped by any race.

Anyway good job. Love how there are 10 Strike forces. D:

You can actually call him the God Emperor. Certain chapters believe him to be divine, but not many.

THIS IS THE NEW EDITED VERSION.

of course edited for content not always grammar.I have trouble finding grammar issues!

LordHost Freneau hovered for a second over the crashed towers of the city square. Flashes shone through the dull grey streets. Freneau could see the lasgun shots clearly; they almost seemed like little fireflies. Freneau couldn’t see who they were firing at though, the ruins seem desolate save for the few small figures shining their lasgun into the empty ruins. Freneau sighed, they had been too late.

He flew a little further, landing on top of the last standing tower. He gazed below him where a courtyard lay. A statue of some hero stood in the center. Freneau was too high to see who the statue was memorializing, but he had seen many of these courtyards, they were all over Hork. He had never heard of this planet before the orks came, so it always made him smirk when he thought of all the heroes that they had glorified. How could a planet who he never heard of have so many heroes?

He squinted. It took him a few moments to full grasp the horror which resided within the courtyard.

There were mounds of Imperial bodies.

He shuttered. He had seen bodies before, he had seen some of the most horrific images in the world but this was worse. What made it worse wasn’t the bodies themselves, it was the fact that Freneau had called Host-Lord Kiail his brother. Freneau hoped to by throne that Kiail had no part in this, but his gut told him Kiail had done this. Freneau had learned to trust his gut.

“Sergeant Selve, Send your squad towards those Imperial forces. Find out what happened, and keep them within eye sight at all times.” Freneau splattered into his vox.

“Yes HostLord” The muffled voice of Sergeant Selve came through faintly on the vox. Freneau could sense the annoyance in Selve’s voice. Selve was a newer sergeant, not nearly as old or as experienced as Freneau. These newer marines were still sucking on the nipple of heroism. They had dreams of heroic speeches before battle, of being reminded their fight was above any other Imperial Servant; that their fight was for the God-Emperor and the Sky-Wardens. Freneau used to give such speeches, but the more he ended up being around their leader, The SkyLord, he had started to find such speeches to be needless. A Sky-Warden marine should know why they fight; they shouldn’t need to be reminded. So Freneau made sure his orders were always direct and to the point. He wasn’t one for flowery speech.

“Sergeant Stone, and Initiate-Sergeant Terrell come join me in the courtyard, it is two clicks from my current position. Charge the plasma.” Freneau yelled into his vox, before soaring down towards the bodies.

He closed his eyes for a second, feeling the pressure of the wind around him. He had grown up flying; his youth was full of crack-pot designs for homemade jetpacks and small hover bikes. He loved the sky, it was his home: a home he found on every planet, each with its own bit of personality. Every time he flew he took at least some moment to enjoy it, since for all he knew it could always be his last flight.

But this time the joy wasn’t as easy to grasp.

He wished he didn’t have to be here.

It was the first time in his life that he wanted to be elsewhere. Ever since he became a marine he took pride in his role as a warrior of the emperor’s wraith, he knew this was what he wanted to do, he never felt a longing for any other life. He felt honored to be considered good enough to be the defender of humanity. Even when he started to feel the effects of the Red Thirst he still felt joy in his position. When he was a Brother-Champion and preformed the last rights to his previous HostLord, he almost cried from watching his HostLord crazed from the black rage. Yet still nothing had made him regret any moment of his life, every time he took pride in his role.

Now though was different. This was the first time he ever felt betrayed. It choked his heart; it took all his strength to keep himself contained. He could feel anger howling within like an inner demon. He wrenched his power sword from his belt, and switched it on. It hummed slightly in his hand, he gripped it into submission.

He hit the ground with a loud thump; dirt flew around him then slammed to the ground as he quickly shut his jump-pack off. He looked up at the statue that over-shadowed him. When he was above the statue it seemed like an ant, now it towered over him. “Jacob Cohen, Imperial General of the 420th Hork Titan legion”, Freneau quickly put it to memory. This was an important day, and anyway there is never a time you can’t learn something new. Freneau had a sick feeling this would be a day he would never get out of his mind.

He slowly looked about him. He could see the orange armor, and blue clothes of the Turok regiment that had been slaughtered. There banner had been thrown upon one of the heaps. Freneau glanced at it, 11th Turok regiment. The Turok were a strong race, if Freneau had a choice he would recruit all his men from such a world, unluckily they accepted no marines. They sent their boys directly to the stormtrooper academy. It was a pity to see such honorable men die this way: butchered. Freneau guessed it did show the efficiency of the Sky-Wardens. He couldn’t assume that traitors from his chapter did this. There was no proof, yet.

He swirled around. His sword was braced in front of him. He swore he heard something. Silently he scanned the ruins behind him: they were dull and blank. Nothing seemed to be about. The battle was over, they may never know if this was done by traitors or orks, they had come too late.

He could hear the padded footsteps of Initiate-Sergeant Terrell’s scout squad approaching. He knew the tap of their footsteps all to well. Behind them came the thuds of Sergeant Stone’s assault squad. Freneau turned to meet them. Terrell’s squad lurked among the shadows and corners of the ruins, their weapons at the ready. Terrell was adjusting the scope of his bolter. Sergeant Stone on the other hand stood out like the sun, his bright red armor he had carefully oiled and glazed the night before shone in the bright lights of the lamp-posts which populated the roads as if they were trees in a forest. Stone stood tall, his powerfist hanging limply by his side, while his other hand twitched slightly, his men responded to his encoded message. They quickly flew into the air, finding perches upon old cracked balconies, thrashed electronic billboards; one found a place nestled between two rooftop angel statues. Their red armor stood out, but their perches were out of view, in places which kept every angle of the courtyard in sight and made sure no one person could see all of them. This was a tactic Stone was famous for, his men had trained for years upon the lava mountains of their homeworld, learning the best way to determine how to hide in plain sight. Stone himself never hid, he was the bait in a sense, the one who drew the enemy near so that his warriors could surround them and purify the enemy with flame and sword.

“Search the area for any signs of attackers.” Freneau barked, Stone smiled: he could hear the small tinge of pride within Freneau harsh voice. It was the best compliment Stone could get.

Stone nodded slowly, his head slowly rotating; the bionic eye implanted into his helmet scanned the darkness surrounding the courtyard. Down in the ruins it was hard to tell that it was daytime: it was always a constant night.

Freneau flipped his jump pack on; he leaped into the air, soaring upwards. He hovered up their, looking through the upper levels of the buildings huddled around the courtyard.

He knew they couldn’t be alone.

EDITED FIRST PART, BASICALLY AN ENTIRE REWRITE!! PLEASE READ!

“It is my birthday today.” The voice echoed among the confines of the factory hallway, the rafters shook.

Sergeant Selve muttered something under his breath, trying to crawl his way past the Dreadnought that took over the entirety of the hallway, and who had just told everyone within a half mile, that it was his birthday. Selve was not thrilled with being placed alongside this mighty being.

“Is it now?” Selve grimaced at the thought of what must be going through Deckard’s, the dreadnought’s, mind.

It wasn’t hidden knowledge that the chaplains and sanguinary priests kept both their eyes on Deckard ever since he came back from the Deathwatch. In any other chapter Selve was sure Deckard would be locked up, put someplace where he wouldn’t be a hassle with his decaying mind, but the SkyLord took a strongly liking to Deckard, and so Deckard was free to travel where he would, join whatever company suited his fancy. It seemed like a sick joke to a dying old man to Selve, but Selve never really understood the entombment of a mighty warrior into a dreadnought. It seemed more like a curse: being stuck in a metal shell where you would never feel the sky, the act of flying, ever. Death would be better than that!
Selve might not have minded if he had been accompanied by Gerrod, or Calius, both quiet somber dreadnoughts, and both were in the Speeder Mark X armor, which allowed the to soar with their comrades on huge jets which bloomed with black smoke and tar.

Deckard was a normal dreadnought; he hadn’t even been entombed by his own chapter! Selve wasn’t even a scout when Deckard finished his time with the Deathwatch, but Selve had heard the stories. Deckard was said to be destined to become one of the greatest HostLords, his tactical mind was said to be legendary, his chainsword swifter than even the SkyLord himself. He was one of the most honorable and noble high-brothers, and he was known at times to serve on the SkyLord’s own personal bodyguard.

But then the orks came into the sector. The Waaagh of Deathskull warboss Karz! tore planets apart, it took decades to take them back, and when they were taken most were just barren rocks. The Sky-Wardens were not use to fighting orks, their tactics were made for lightening strike raids of elite sections of the enemy army. The ork mobs were a scary sight for the marines, most who had only seen orks in their holograph training excersies. The Sky-Wardens are a ever-changing chapter, like the wind, and they grew to learn how to fight the orks.

This is all old history though, these are the events that made Deckard decide to join the Deathwatch in the hope he would come back with new knowledge to help his chapter. Selve gazed up at the black and red armored being: look at how he came back.

Selve didn’t know what exactly maimed Deckard, or what he did which made the Inquisition gift him with a dreadnought body. Whatever it was it must have been epic. Selve wished he could gain that much esteem. Though Selve would hope that whatever he did wouldn’t ensnare him in a metal cast and scramble his brains.

“It is my birthday Sergeant! I plan to have some funs with the orks tonight!” Deckard rumbled, “I remember the last time I saw them, oh there was hoards of them! It was beauty getting rid of such foul beasts.”

Selve could hear one of his squadmates snicker, Selve quickly gave the marine a glare. Selve didn’t want to get Deckard upset. Who knows what an upset crazy dreadnought would do!
Deckard slowly move towards the bent up garage door that led to the street. His steps now seemed calmed, slower, as if he was attempting to be silent.

Selve quickly slipped between Deckard’s massive legs, drawing his chainsword, he carefully got ready to switch it on. With a flick of his wrist he motioned for two of his marines, Idiak, and Quire, to move towards the right flank. With a small bird like caw which vibrated from his helmet he gave the order for a cautious advance.

Deckard though ignored these orders. He seemed to stand up taller, his chestplate seemed to burst forward almost like a hen about to caw. He then marched out of the garage. Selve had to quickly roll out of the way in order to not get pushed over by Deckard’s assaulting legs. Selve made a mental note to make sure next time he fought alongside Deckard he could keep himself within the confines of the sky rather than under the hulking being’s legs.

“The wraith of the God-emperor smites all the unpure. The holiness of the almighty throne grants healings to those who have faith in it.” Deckard preached, Selve could feel himself gasp, it had been years since he had heard anyone preach from Lectures on Faith and War, it was an old tomb, the writer unknown, the only copy found upon Mil'dar a century ago.
Deckard leaned back, shaking the dirt and rubble off of his back, and gazed up at the sky. Selve could feel the fear of the Imperial Guardsmen he knew were cowering nearby.
“I have seen you, I had known you.” Deckard went on to complete the last two versus, “You had once been clean, I now pronounce you…” The last words were drowned out by the clatter of Deckard’s assault cannon as it let loose a full round into the sky.

Selve busted out of the factory, switching his chainsword on as he scrambled for his bolt pistol. Rubble and dust rained down upon his helmet as Deckard’s assault cannon ripped holes into the steel walls that encircled the road. Selve motioned for a defensive barrier, as he powered his jump-pack on. Selve, as well as the four other members of his squad flashed upon, they hovered around Deckard, attempting to see his target.

Selve then saw it, he barely had time to react, “Traitors in the sky!” He screamed, his voice almost silenced by Deckard’s next round of assault cannon shells. This time they found their mark. An armored figure dropped down, its body once full of life, now limps as Deckard’s assault cannon blew two perfectly round holes into its chest.

Selve span to the side just barely being able to avoid the body that smashed into the ground.

“Marine” Deckard muttered.

“Traitor” Selve spat. He had came here to find orks, and instead he found traitors falling from the sky like hail.

“Behind you!” Idiak yelled, his voice horse under his rebreather.

Selve flew up, letting his jump-pack fly him upwards. He looked below to see what could have been a marine, at some point. The being wore bright orange power armor, its large Imperial eagle almost scratched off. The man’s jump-pack was scratched and burnt. The man’s face was bare, if one could call it a face. It seemed more like a wolf than a human face. The creature’s bloodshot eyes glared up at Selve before it let loose a long howl, showing yellow fangs.

Selve brought his chainsword down upon the creature, but he was too slow, or was the horror too fast? The power armored traitor’s chainaxe deflected the blow easily. The traitor grinned, his mouth spread a bit too wide for a human face. Selve shuttered, for some reason he felt like he recognized the face. Selve stumbled back, tried to regain control of himself.

Deckard threw his blood fist out, trying to grab at another of the flying marines, but the marine remained just out of reach, his bolt pistol firing rounds which barely scratched Deckard’s armor.

The rest of the squad was having similar trouble. Selve could see Idiak caught in a stranglehold from another of the marines. Their weapons were gone, and one of their jump-packs had been punctured by a combat knife. They flew about in a crazed dance, swirling smoke trialing about them. Idiak’s helmet was gone and Selve could see fear in his eyes.

Quire was firing bolt rounds into each traitor he saw. One of the traitors attempted to strike him from behind, but he quickly span around and put a bolt into the traitor’s head.
The man floated there for a little bit as if in a state of shock. Blood started to gush out of the crater in his head along with yellowish puss which trickled down his cheeks. Quire fired anther round, this time aiming for the jump-pack. His shot hit the energy cell, causing a small explosion. Blood and bits of power armor splattered across Deckard’s assault cannon arm.

Selve was momentarily distracted by the events around him, they almost seemed unread to him. He had never seen traitor marines before; he had expected them to look less
like Imperial marines. He expected older suits of armor, and more chaotic symbols. He expected twisted limbs, and tentacles growing from their heads. The armor these marines wore seem oddly similar to Selve’s own armor, same mark. Bolt fire echoed within Selve’s ears and he tried to reorient himself. He turned back towards the traitor marine he was fighting only to see his leg sweep out, in a wide graceful arch, smashing into Selve’s ankles and throwing him off balance. He span out of control. He tried to grab the switch of his jump-pack and bring himself back to a better bearing. Another blow smashed into his chest, it pierced his armor and he felt his powerful lungs wheezing for oxygen as the enemy chainaxe ripped a gash across his chest.

Selve clenched his fist tightly, and threw a vicious right hook that connecting, snapping the traitor’s head back with the force of the blow. He could feel his body attempting to clot the newly formed wound. Blood slowly dampened his armor. He brought his chainsword forward, his mind whirling with various attacks and counter-attacks. The traitor regained his footing with ease, his jump-packing letting out a small crackle as he slowly circled Selve.

“Look at you, a god among men!” The traitor smiled, “And all you do is follow some cripple on a chair.”

Selve could feel the anger boiling inside of him, Selve could handle anger, he had been taught how to withhold it. Anger was a stepping stone towards the black rage. But this anger invaded not only his body but his spirit. The traitor smiled, he lightly tossed his chainaxe from hand to hand.

“You praying?” It scoffed.

That was the last straw, Selve let out a breathing roar and charged.

That writing wasn't great, really need to go over it! I have some ideas of how to do that and will edit it within the next day or two before I add in more!

it was ok.

Little bit of clean-up and it'll be fine Sage. Action is tough to do.

yeah, I also stayed up all night doing homework and work on this throughout the night. I can tell when I was getting a little deranged from the lack of sleep and the writing gets sloppy. I am working on it now, and should have a better verison. I knew that it was sloppy when I posted it but I thought maybe someone may see something which was wrong with it that I may not have. I plan to look through it and really rework it and repost over that one, so be ready for it!

I EDITED AND FIXED the first one!! Will fix up second one soon! That one wil take longer, it has a ton more issues. Tell me if you think the new ones work out better?

Smoother read Sage. good start.

Just added an edited version of the first part.

Good!

nice! working on the next part of that last one inbetween homework haha, should have it up by sunday evening at the latest.

i may start posting up the few models I've started paint of the army here until i start getting money to build my actual army I plan to use for torties and such, and these extra models will start to make units for when i bring the army for 3000 done to start a true P&M blog

I am deleting the posts which were not edited since they were prettynot up to standard and I really think I need to go into a new direction withthem. The edited versions will still be up!

PLEASE READ NEXT PRE-WRITE!

Please read this part, I am going to write a large post, and would like to give a brief explaination so that people can read the parts they are most interested in rather than not read it or read the whole thing (would love if read whole thing thou!). I want to try to explain what I am trying to do and how I view this project, I know not too many people are following it so maybe it isn't entirely needed to have a "philosophy statement", as my professor would call it, for the purpose of this blog, but I deem it important for myself and hopefully will breed some insight into this fiction as well as to myself, def to those who are my "friends" on dakkadakka, which to me means we tend to follow each others topics, and ask each other for advice through PMs or on each other blogs. If I can call such people friends then I shall, I mean they are much more productive then facebook friends, and there called friends when they should be called, may know this person, anyway! my tangents got to get a hold of them! its totally beca....THere starts another one! damn! control sageheart! don't let the tangent rage take ahold of you!

enough sillyness, so here will be the layout:

Question: This will be a few questions i have for my readers, would love responses on these of any sorts (constructive thou!).

Purpose: This is vaguely a general idea of why I am writing this fiction. Not really why I made this chapter, or fluff. On that it was just an idea to play with a all jump pack army instead of my mob/tank orks, blob/vet IG, and occasional vet/points-in-useless-things SM army. The fluff came afterwards and is very different than previous fluff so i went with it as an experiment and as expanding my 40k worldview i guess. This section will show my purpose with this fiction in some vague sense.

Plans/Ideas/Thoughts On, The Characters: Here are my ideas of the future of the stories. I won't give plot things away since I like to have those come up over time and also since I am still unsure, I am much more into characters and their interactions then plot stuff which is something i'm dealing with here since it needs a central plot, I am making one! I swear! Since I am really into characters I am trying to make an image of Space Marines (I guess Blood Angels Successor chapter in particular, but really just Space Marines as a whole) which I like and escapes the pretty emotional weak version of the space marine as just a outrageously powerful, silent, religious warrior-monk/protector with a few quirks. Of course that description is highly important to the concepts of the space marine, but I want to make them more "human" I guess, or at least more capiable for me to write in emotions, thoughts, interests, etc. More individual and exciting to me. I also have ideas on my chapter here and things I wish to portray and would like to know now, and even more importantly later when I start to inculde more stories with more of these ideas, if any of this comes out and advice upon how to do it, or other ideas that could work with mine, or you believe should be thought of.

A Little About Me: this is just a bit about me, a little about where I am coming from and a bit about what I feel like I could and hopefully will gain from this blog!

Thanks again, now onwards ready readers!

-WARNING- LONG PART APPROACHING NOW! (hopefully previous one wasn't longer....)

Question: I wanted to ask everyone what people thought of the main characters so far, notably the drednought, Deckard (I had to have a Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep/Bladerunner reference no matter how slight.), as well as HostLord Freneau. Also which characters come out the strongest, which you want to hear more about, etc.

I also was wondering what ideas people had for traits or gear, or personalities which you believe would be within a chapter such as the Sky-Wardens. Do the ones I have give a good feeling of the chapter, if so what comes out, and if not what is missing? These are just questions that came up in my head! Most important to me is how the chapter and characters seem to you because I have some predisposed ideas of how they are, want to make sure at least some of them are seeping through!

Purpose: Thou i am posting my fiction here for others to read and enjoy: I also see this as a great time to receive feedback on my writing, not just grammar, but things about how i write my characters and construct my stories: what works, what doesn't, etc. This is my first time writing fan fluff save for some story-esque character background or army fluff. I am using this as an experiment on many fronts. I am writing this for fun and to expand on my chapter, but also to experiment writing with something which is entirely new to me and to see how it goes and what i can play with and learn. My personal writing is different than this, there are no battles in most, a few in some, and it is very character centered and always 1st person and have very complex and focused philosophical statements and meanings interweave into the work. I also want to try to find a way to include meanings into the work, but this will prob only focus on comments on the 40k world much like BL 40k fiction does. I'm not about to start using 40k fluff as a way to make social commentary to the rest of the world!
The writing also keeps me sane since I haven't really been able to work on any new personal writing due to schoolwork, my other works which constantly need more edits, and many of my new ideas for my next project are still WIP or incomplete. This allows me to write something which i enjoy and can easily think of in boring classes or before bed SO! back to point! I would love comments either through PM or on here and would LOVE people to be harsh as long as they are constructive. It can be from 40k fluff issues to grammar issues, all the way to issues or compliments to my writing style, ideas, displays of emotions, etc

Plans/Ideas/Thoughts On, The Characters: I want to have a very strong feeling of a generation gap among the chapter, I don't have a reason for it yet, though I have some ideas. My plan is, over time, to show the older officers, Sergeant Stone, the HostLords, and the SkyLord (That's my chapter master eqv.) himself to be kinda mysterious, but mostly be from a distinct other generation, most importantly in their minds rather than necessarily having actual ones. I do want the younger generation to be more focused on tech somewhat. I plan to show this all moreso as my story goes on. I also want there to be a stronger sense of pride among the younger generation, the younger generation being mostly marines and scouts, with a few sergeants and veterans being of that generation.

I also want the decisions of the SkyLord to be almost mysterious, and very aloof at times. this also is meant to be apparent in HostLord Freneau as well as other HostLords, but it is meant to be even moreso with the SkyLord. This will be expanded upon in due course. I want to try to show some of their decisions, def the skylord in particular, seem to be unthougthout, not stupid or rash, or things which cause a awful or negative things to happen, but ones that seem to have no reason save maybe some unknown quirk or preference or knowledge that the reader and the younger generation do not have. The reason for this will come out in due time.

A Little About Me: Just thought it would be nice for me to give a bit about myself, not a huge bio, but just thought it could give me some insight. I am a young white male, 6'2... just kidding. Most of what I wanted to say were said above somewhere. Mostly I'm a literature major, been playing 40k since I was 14, so 5-6 years, played warhammer and LoTR since I was 12, stopped playing those two games around 15, 40k interested me a lot more. I am trying to double major in creative writing and tend to write science fiction character focused novelettes which focus on interactions between characters with a very loose plot thou it is def there. Been dying to really flush out my own SM chapter, and I'm finally doing it. I have some IG fluff stories written I may throw in here, but I think I want to try to include them somehow, may have to edit them since they are in 1st person thou i think thats what makes them interesting.

So there it all is. hope you enjoyed! will get other stuff up soon! gah, that took a lot of time away from my homework, got to go back to essay writing!!! I spent way too much time planning this out, hope it shows... at least a bit

I really like it Sage.
I think Deckard is a good character, and I chuckled at the thought of a crazed Dread bellowing, "Its My Birthday today!"
Two things, Do Space Marines even remember their birthdays? And I think rather than seeing fear in the helmet less marine's eyes, he should see anger or something, because Space Marines "Shall know no fear" and all that junk

For gear for your chapter, I kinda imagined Iron-Man style boosters in their hands to better navigate themselves while flying, since their are such a heavily sky-bound chapter. I'm not sure how it would work however.

im trying to not really reference his actual official birthday, this was going to come in time. I was thinking more of it being the day he was "born" into his newly aquired drednough armor. I feel like that could be seen better in the previous piece which i didnt like much, and in the newpieces you read i think the writing and plot/characters are much better but that concept didnt come out too much!

yeah, i agree with the fear thing i will prob go bak and change that soon!
boosters sound dope, dunno how exactly to include that, maybe as a way for scouts to train for jump-pack fighting?

I have an idea!
You know on terminators how that have that big thing on their gauntlets hooked to a wire?
What if all the marines had those, and they were boosters of some sort. They could still use weapons with them, because they wouldn't be on their palms.

Did you get the name Deckard from diablo 2?!?!?!
Deckard Cain anyone?

Too funny...

Gitsplitta wrote:Too funny...

Stick in it your stash
Also, Sage, how do you like my idea for the wrist boosters?

No its Deckard from Bladerunner

i really do like your idea of boosters but im unsure where to place them yet since i have the marines having their gear already cant really add it to normal marines now, so thinking if it should be a special weapon type thing, or a scout think, or a vet gear. What do you think? make sense?

Hmm, maybe Vets. Sine you are going to have to chop up some termies, I suggest the AoBR ones, since they are easy to get.

i may try to do it with a wire of somesorts and find a way to make a homemade version. Maybe make them look homemade as if the marines themselves made them out of spare parts and such before a battle.

wil be starting the actual full scale army in a while, but i do think it'll be full of conversions so i can really focus on my modelling skills and try to really improve them!

Also, I suggest painting skull white, and then yellow, unless Im think the wrong chapter of yours...

wrong one, these will be red, with black helmets, thats my sons of luther chapter which is kinda getting put on hold!

Nice intro Sage, and for the record... any Blade Runner reference is tops with me (my favorite movie of all time... gotta be the director's cut though). When I read the dreads name that's what I thought of right away.

The generation gap is an interesting idea. Looks like my chapter is heading that way as well so I'll be very interested in seeing how you handle it.

director's cut for the win, but the final cut is bliss! if you get the chance you should really read the book: "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep" by Philip K. Dick, amazing book!


I would love to see how we both deal with it, I want to have a focus on pride and tech, with the higher levels being more noble and having very different focus points in their leadership and direction they want the chapter to go. I want to also try to have a strong theme of the past throughout the stories, and how each generation links to the past!

Sounds like a good take Sage. Of course I'm not really writing fiction like you are, just little blurbs when the muse strikes or I need to explain the figure. For me really it's that crisis point of the Badab war and crusade that is defining the generational gap... the older "generation" all from one planet, now associated with rebellion against the Imperium, and the new generation from some other planet entirely (if Goto's story is adopted) who were not responsible for the crimes of the past but are treated by the rest of the universe as if they were.

Interesting stuff... as is yours.

Muse? Wait what? The Goddess? Or the Rock Band?

Thanks Git! I like the way your generational gap is going, i think it can lead to some very interesting and fun cultural differences between the two groups. im going with mine just since i was thinking what if... you know? And I feel like every chapter must go thru some sort of generational change as the scouts the get have different mindset, different backgrounds etc.

I guess it would depend on how drastic the change-over was. If scouts were just trickling in like normal, you probably wouldn't see a big shift in the chapter sociologically. In my case, you have a 100 year gap with massive casualties in-between recruitments. Big difference when the "new class", which would be fairly large and from a new planet... comes in.

huh I didn't think of it that way. I was thinking more-of how generations change within a country, such as any country today; can be seen in the educational system in America which is now attempting to have computers and other forms of technology within and affecting the classwork and way of teaching at all levels. Some schools are starting to make it so that there will be cameras in schools and that parents can, at any time, log into the school website and watch their child in class through the camera. Things like that start to breed new beliefs among the children. To keep with the education camera example, some teachers, parents, and psychologists believe that this new way of having the parents be able to watch their kids may make children start to believe it is okay to "spy" or watch others at any time. The idea being that lets say your 8 and you come home one day and at dinner your mom or dad is like "we saw you not eat your veggies during lunch! you now have to eat two servings at dinner!" this doesnt seem very bad but it does latch into the child's life and takes away a lot of his privacy. idk im against this concept as you may be able to tell, taking a class on it.

what i was trying to get out is thatthese little changes in things such as school, or pop music, or the focus within in the culture or government shifts, it starts to breed new beliefs and places a new importance in things. Therefore the scouts may start to bring new things into the chapter. In your example it would be a much more widespread thing, since yes there is a long peroid of time between the last time scouts were taken up! But if there isnt that gap i feel like this "new" generation would start to filter in, and as they become full-fledge marines they would start teaching their new beliefs upon the newer scouts (who may or maynot bring their own generational beliefs) and could bring a slight generational gap which wouldnt really change the entire socialogical concept of the chapter but may bring little quirks which could be seen among special groups of the chapter: such as the higher ranking members being more silent due to that being a virtue during their younger years, and the newer marines and scouts having more pride due to how in the last 50-100 years the aspect of silence has been replaced with pride. This is just an example, does this little rant make sense?

Yep, perfect sense. We're just operating on two different engines for change. Mine is based on a crisis point, yours is based on natural progression.

Hey Sage, I looked at the fluff as requested, its a good framework though I think overly complex. I must say that the character of the army couldn't be further from a BA mentality though. I'm pretty heavy into coursework right now but as soon as I get that cleared I give you a proper run down of where I think you might consider changes. Hope all is well.

That would be great thanks!

do you think so? I don't mind if it deviates far from BA, I just wanted to have some of the BA aspects, such as the black rage. But it is def a WIP, so would love to hear what you have to say!

here's what I have gotten so far, will get more soon!

Ajak let loose a roar as he slammed into the factory wall. The traitor was strong, his fighting style was clean, each strike well-planned. This was an enemy Ajak was not used to. Fighting orks had made Ajak expect powerful but un-thought-out swings. This warrior on the other hand fought by the book: testing Ajak’s weak-points before landing blows which sent him sprawling. Ajak let out a grimace as he started to feel pain along his spine.

The traitor mace swung for Ajak’s face, he evaded quickly. Bits of soot and metal flew across his helmet as the mace smashed a hole into the factory wall. Ajak tumbled to the side; with his chainsword arm he snapped his jump pack on throwing himself into the sky. The traitor followed, howling.

Ajak landed upon the crumpled roof of the factory. He knelt down, ready to spring. He finger slowly moved from the trigger of his plasma pistol to the small switch alongside the container of plasma. He switched it to the highest level before moving his finger back to the trigger. He waited; a few seconds passed yet no one rushed from below.

His eyes slowly scanned the area around him. The roof was barren. He was about start a system check of the surrounding when a gust of wind blew over him. It came from above. He swung his sword up, just barely warding up the downward swipe of the traitor. He had flown over the roof and attacked from the sky. Ajak cursed himself for his stupidity.

They danced around the roof, each attack met by a well-placed parry. If anyone had witness this furry of blows it would have seemed as if they were seeing two god’s fight. Each attack was planned, each parry perfect. Their footwork was exact, each step made with a purpose in mind. Each was waiting for the next to make a mistake. Ajak kept trying to get his pistol to bear, but each time Ajak had to focus on the next parry.

Ajak let out a deep breath as he was forced back towards the edge of the roof. Behind the traitor he could see his sergeant fighting another one of the traitors: the only one without a helmet on. Ajak had to bring his attention back to the fight at hand, his sword diverting another blow. His feet were about to be pushed off the side.

Without warning the roof shook. The two powered armored figures swirled around, backing away from each other.

Selve skittered across the roof, blood vomiting from the wounds across his face. His chainsword bounced away, leaving a trail of teeth marks. His jet-pack steamed with dark black smoke: they trickled from the many cut marks that graced his pack. Selve let out a choking cough, blood dangling from his mouth. The chaos marine he was fighting hit the ground with a thud that echoed with a ring which Ajak could hear vividly even with his helmet on.

Selve tried to raise his bolt pistol, but it was kicked out of his hand. The traitor then placed his foot along Selve’s neck. His wolfish face grinned.

“How does it feel imperial scum? How does it feel to feel your own mortality?” The traitor howled, his voice piercing in ways Ajak didn’t expect possible by a human.

Selve was too weak to do anything. He tried to raise the foot, but he could barely lift his hands. Ajak tried to run forward, but was met with the mace of the marine he had been fighting. He lifted his sword, shielding himself from the enemy’s steel. The force of the traitor’s attack forced him back.

Selve spat, blood more than spit flying into the traitor’s face. Ajak raised his plasma pistol aiming for the bare head of the traitor towering over Selve’s broken body. Ajak let loose a shot. The blue plasma threw in the air, heating up the air around it. Before it hit the traitor he brought his axe down. Selve’s head split in two in one cracking noise. The plasma shot blasted across the shoulder of the marine. It boiled on his armor, cracking through looking for flesh to bite into. The traitor screamed in anger, pain starting to flow through him.

The helmeted marine started up his attack against Ajak again, their weapons letting loose a salvo of music as each attempted to bring the other one down. The traitor drew his bolt pistol, trying to aim a good shot. Ajak took this too his advantage. He pushed the bolt pistol away with his chainsword, before firing a plasma shot into the traitor’s face.

The blue plasma splattered across the horned helmet of the chaos marine. The marine fell to his knees, clutching his helmet as the plasma smoked thought his armor and reached his bare face. Blood and steam gushed out from every airhole of his helmet. Ajak drop-kicked the marine, throwing him to the ground: following it with a swift swipe of his sword which gutted the man.

Ajak turned to face the wolf-headed marine that had just killed his sergeant. A tempest of anger tore up Ajak, he could feel the hate pouring from his eyes.

“Death from the sky!” Ajak screamed.

He charged through the air, bringing his chainsword down. The wolf-headed marine sided-stepped Ajak’s attack. Ajak jumped up, getting his footing set and getting ready for the next attack.

Ajak’s teeth clenched. The traitor just smirked.

“The sky dances!” the traitor laughed.

Ajak tried to hiding his shock.

“You don’t understand how similar we are, do you?” The marine asked, his eyes attempting to pierce the loyalist’s thoughts.

Ajak couldn’t respond fast enough; the traitor let out a few shots with his bolt pistol. Ajak deflected them with his chainsword. Rage filled him with each clang of metal.
The traitor let out a bellowing screech. Ajak slashed with his chainsword, but it was smashed out of his hand. With a speed Ajak didn’t even know he had, Ajak drew his combat knife and plunged it into the traitor’s neck. The traitor stood there, awestruck, blood darkening his armor. With a thud he fell to the ground, his head knocking against Ajak’s feet.

Not bad Sage... not bad at all.

still trying to learn to better write combat, it is very hard. I think i am getting better but it takes me a lot longer to get through a scene.

I think the combat derailed the story a bit. I have a little bit written up now, as well as some other stuff in the WIP stages.

First Story:

Deckard made his way down the barren street. With each loud thud dust and rubble jumped up like scared animals before hiding back in the shadows and cracks of the street. Deckard had no real destination in mind; he had gotten used to taking strolls like this since his days among the deathwatch marines. He had found it was a good way to clear his mind, to remove the demons that were starting to dig into his mind, into his memories. Memories needed to be kept, but there was always a point where they became thorns. Deckard had always been stuck in an unusual balance between insanity and normality, he liked it that way, it forced him to keep his self-control. And that was something he almost lost with the deathwatch.

He stopped as he hit the end of the road. The road faded into charred dirt. Before him lay a wasteland, almost like a little pond in the midst of an urban jungle. An explosion must have taken out the next few city blocks leaving only a flat land of dirt and soot. It almost seemed peaceful to Deckard, a hidden calm among the dangerous ruined city.

“There was once a church here; that’s what the datasheets say about the area.” The voice was calm, reminded Deckard of a breeze tickling through his once long hair.

“Does HostLord Freneau know you are here, SkyLord?” Deckard rumbled, turning to glance over at their chapter’s commander.

The SkyLord was perched on a ruined chimera that was starting to rust. His red armor glowed slightly, making him stand out from the depressing shadows which blanketed everything. His foil was slung by his side, its bright green cord running along his arm to attach to his ornate jump-pack. He looked at Deckard, his scarred face trying to crack a smile, but the wounds he had gathered from the many years of war made any emotion hard to show. He ended up giving a half-hearted smirk.

“No. I just landed. The Flame of Mil'dar is overhead. I decided to have some reinforcements brought for the HostLord.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Have you seen them?”

Deckard didn’t answer; he looked over across the empty artificial plain. He could see a small wild sheep, almost dead from radiation, trying to make its way to the edge of the plain. The SkyLord didn’t divert his eyes from the marine that once could have became the SkyLord, but the emperor had his ways, and things didn’t always go the way it seemed.

“What happened to you, friend?” The SkyLord asked softly, as if not wanting to break the silence.

“What do you mean?”

“What happened to you during the deathwatch? You changed. What did you see brother?”

Deckard was silent, his blood fist fidgeted, as his hand once had fidgeted upon his old power sword before a battle. The SkyLord wondered what internal battle Deckard was currently fighting.

“What happened to you, SkyLord? What did you see on the bloody banks of Utter?” Deckard responded.

The SkyLord traced the scar that went over his eye stopped only by the edge of his upper lip. He hung his head slightly.

“I must go. I must keep hunting, Brother Deckard.”

“How long will you hunt for him milord? How long will you let your chapter remain without its leader?”

The Skylord stood up, he looked up at the cloudless sky. His jump-pack started to rumble as he powered it on.

“He must be stopped or he will continue to taint this chapter." He made a quick sign of the imperial eagle, His voiced sounded as if he had preached this countless times to himself, "He is here, I know it. How else would an entire strike-force of Sky-Wardens turn so quickly? He must be here.” The SkyLord paused, and then nodded with new resolve, “I will find him and bring him down, it is for the best of this chapter.”

Before Deckard could respond the SkyLord was in the air, and soon was out of sight. Within his dreadnought armor, Deckard let out a sigh. His chapter needed a leader to direct its path, not a solitary hunter to fight for it.

Deckard turned away and started to make his way back to the rest of the marines.



and something a little new: will make sense later!


Lieutenant Arron watched the shards of Kronina floating from the bridge window of The Avenger . Seconds ago his eyes had traced the cyclonic torpedo flinging itself at his planet. His eyes stared, body unmoving, fists clenched. The torpedo had smashed into the planet’s surface, letting out rings of blinding light, before the planet cracked like a smashed egg. For a moment, he wondered what the last thing was that his parents would see before the torpedo hit. He told them he would handle the problem, finish the war. Failure engulfed him, stuck harder than that torpedo.

What bothered him most, though, was that he knew that if his parents had seen that missile with its eagle-pointed head they would be thanking it for giving the emperor's eternal mercy. That was mercy, which left a planet in shatters, a civilization nonexistent.

"A beautiful sight, isn't it Lieutenant?" The voice was in awe, more directed at the sight than anyone else.

Lieutenant Arron turned to the man. The man had changed out of his battle armor, but one could still see the wear and tear of war upon him. His face was scarred, eyes dark and over shadowed by his large brushy eyebrows. His whole vestige showed that he was a true warrior, the way he held his head up high, his back stiff, his hand resting lightly upon his custom las-pistol.

"The emperor's judgment at its finest." He sighed, “A beautiful sight to see. It makes me feel hope every time I see it; that at some point the taint of chaos can be removed in all its entirely. Don't you think so," He paused slightly, giving a faint smile, "Lieutenant"

His Inquisitor’s I medallion hung loosely around his neck, the gold clashing strongly with the deep blue robes he now wore. The man flourished such a deep look of faith in his eyes that it was hard for Arron to look at him for too long without feeling unclean. This was the man Arron had put his trust in: the trust that this man would bring this planet out of its mess, and, well, Arron couldn't say that he didn't. There wasn't a planet left to have a mess on.

Arron looked back at the floating remains of the planet. He couldn't get the thought out that this was his home; what stood before him was the destruction of everything his memories held, every person and place he knew.

"Yes," He paused, almost choking on his words, "Yes, Inquisitor Gallegos. It is a beautiful sight." His last words were meek, He tried to keep himself reserved and at attention, but he was sure his sadness could be seen.

Inquisitor Gallegos just smiled.



Other eyes watched the exploding planet as well. Gaxark stood on the bridge of his shadowed ship. He was deathly still; almost looked like a statue of some power armored imperial hero, except his armor was covered in grisly trophies and spikes rather than the imperial eagle. Each one of his many trophies seemed to strike terror onto his victims, but to him they were just ways of remembering his conquests: who he was.

He was Gaxark The Bloodthirsty, the great ruler of chaos, the corrupter of Kronina. He was a great lord to his men, but he saw himself as only a small being in a universe of war. He cared little of corrupting, or ruling, or even in chaos itself. He just wished to find another warrior to test his skills upon. That was his never-ending lust: the honorable battle between two great leaders, something legends were written about. Kronina was said to have such men, but Gaxark only found cowards. The world deserved to be broken. Such a world was a waste of his time, and nothing angered him more than wasteful actions. He would have to find a new place to find the noble and the heroic.

He ordered the ship to move out, and he vowed he would find a new battle for his scribes to write about.


Hope you like!!
did some minor edits just now if more are there let me know, class time got to run!

Great work Sage! This is really shaping up into a good story!

There are a few typos... you might want to read through it carefully to pick them out.


Q: Do dreadnoughts have to worry about the black rage? A violently insane dreadnought would be a real piece of work to deal with.

"Here scouts... strip down to your skivvies, take your combat knives and go prove your worth to the chapter!"
(stomp, squish, rip, pulp)
"Ummmm.... someone call an apothecary team, and have them bring lots of baggies.... and a sponge."

I am inbetween classes now so should go through the typos soon. Got some more stuff i wrote just now. I have some other stuff written at home but im not home now should try to get that up tonight or morrow.

HAHA like your Q&A there. Yes Dreds do! those are DC dreds, but I'm not sure how I place them in my fluff yet, I have few dreds in my army to begin with so I don't think it would be as much of an issue. I will have to see how they would work out. Maybe later have the first Black rage dred and see what i come up with!!

any plot ideas coming up, or issues? i know my plot isnt too big yet, i promise it'll start to clean up

here is my little story!

Sergeant Korn sat against the wall of his chamber. His armor and weapons hung across from him, along with his few belongings: some smoke grenades, combat knife, a tome of prayers, and a few small trinkets he had found among his travels. A few empty wrappers of condensed meat lay in the corner, barely a few days worth. Besides these things, the room was bare. Before Korn had resided here the room had been full of life, but Korn had cleared out the room, leaving its its interior out in the hallway for the servitors to fetch. No one questioned this: he was a sleepless blade, whatever he did was not up for questioning or understanding.

Korn needed the open space; it helped his mind stay calm. He spent most of his days in silent meditation; most would see it in that way, but in reality he was fighting the largest battle he ever had faced. This was the metal battle against the rage. The rage was an unusual thing among the Sky-Wardens. They were a chapter who felt the black rage take over them in stages. There was the red thirst which affected every marine, was a test of willpower common to all. It seemed almost a small fight compared to the larger mental wars which came later.

The Images, the cursed images. That was the first stage of the Black Rage, it was the moment where the marine knew the black rage was about to come in full force, and they would have to use all their power to hold it back, or accept it and fall. The images were the first sign; it was like seeing the orkish hoard running towards you: the battle hadn’t started, but you knew the first gunshots would soon be fired.

Korn twitched slightly; he could feel the images coming back. His mind pushed them to the side, staring at his armor and attempting to find safety within it. He mumbled a quick prayer.

This was his test, his way of showing his faith. A lesser man would falter, but Korn would not! His jaw clenched. He would hold back, find that battle, find that war which would glorify and redeem himself to his god-emperor. It was the only way to live with the curse that was in the blood of every Blood Angel marine.

His door chimed open. He didn’t look, but could feel Brother-Champion Ondatje judging aura. It crushed down upon the room. Korn could feel his calm choking, as if it had lost its breath and no oxygen was left.

“We will be landing shortly.” Ondatje muttered, his voice soaked with disgust.

Ondatje hated the black rage more than anyone else, he was said to have witnessed many brothers fall, that those memories bred his hatred of the chapter's curse. Korn never took that view: Ondatje was prideful. Pride made him feel immortal, and what immortal had a curse. The black rage wasn’t a test to Ondatje, it was a sickening reminder that he couldn’t be perfect in the eyes of the emperor. Korn had always seen this clawing Ondatje’s mind, angering him as he tried to come to terms with this lack of perfection. He had never been able to, and so his anger and disgust came out around Sleepless Blades like Korn. If it wasn’t for Ondatje’s religious fervor, and battle prowess, Korn was sure he would never have gotten above the rank of brother.

Korn nodded, his eyes still refusing to gaze in his champion’s direction.

“I brought you some food.” Ondatje gasped, the words being hard for him to swallow.

“That is a servitor job.” Korn said blandly, keeping his emotions hidden. Anger tried to build up and overwhelm him, but he directed his mind towards the Sanguinary Prayers instead.

“Don’t you think I know that!” Ondatje took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself through his exhale, “You won’t eat the food, if a person didn’t bring it to you.”

Korn smiled slightly, “And why do you think you could make me eat it?” He smirked, turning to look at the champion. The Champion was suited up in full battle gear. Korn could barely remember his younger years, when seeing such a man would fill him with honor and loyalty. Now this armored warrior filled him with a mixture of arrogance, and anger. What angered Korn most was how easily Ondatje let pride take over him: there were worse battles one needed to fight, Korn would be the one to know. If Ondatje fell so quickly to pride, how could he ever hope to fight off the black rage once the images started to hit him? Maybe Ondatje had the imaginary dream of being immune to such things.

“How do you expect to fight if you can’t even eat? The emperor has no use for a starving body.”

“Food is a pleasure, I don’t need such things. Pleasure leads to pride and self-centered thought. In order to best serve, I must become greater than myself, become an embodiment of the emperor’s judgment and wraith.” Korn turned his head back to his armor, trying to find reassurance in the words he uttered.

“Do you honestly believe that? Food is a need, we are human, we must eat sometimes.”

“We are human? Huh, I thought we were space marines, Brother-Champion.” Korn coyly said, knowing he was pushing buttons.

The smash echoed in the room, quickly followed by a deathly silence. Ondatje slowly removed his fist from the hole in the door he had just made. He pushed back his sleek blonde hair, his face filled with hate.

“Humble yourself sergeant.” Ondatje gasped, trying to wrap his head around their recent conversation.

Korn didn’t say a word; he kept his eyes staring at the armor before him. The white armor reflected his muscular body, covered in the old marks of war. He wondered what his primarch’s body looked like as it bled on the dirty floor of the chaos warship. His teeth clenched, his hands slowly turned into fists. He pushed the thought out of his mind with one large gasp which made him shiver inside.

“When do we land?” Korn grunted, he barely had the willpower to speak.

“In two hours we go to meet the Great HostLord Freneau and prepare for the hunt.”

Korn nodded. Ondatje stood there for a few seconds, gazing at the tense marine. He could see the fury erupting throughout the Sleepless Blade. It was a beautiful sight of raw energy. Ondatje was almost capativated by it, but then he was shook his head and grimaced. The more he looked at the marine the more he only saw another way for him to visualize the chapter's decaying nature. He smoothed back his hair and tried to stand tall again, but the quivering form of Korn weighted heavily upon his chest. He would never fall apart like that, never become such a flawed speciman of failure. He marched away, getting ready to prepare the rest of the strike-force.

i just need to note how much i love that the 2nd to last line reads "raw enegry" or "Rules As Written Energy" hahahah

I like it Sage, but it's a little confusing. Not the black rage thing... you've covered that quite nicely. It does not seem to me, that the emotions of the two men are consistent with regard to each other, or with regard to their action. For example; Ondatje clearly hates Korn and what he stands for... yet he "gazing questioningly" at him and "sadly nodded" when their conversation ended. I understand the why of it within the greater context, but in the immediate context of this conversation, I don't find either action believable.

huh interesting, I didn't think of that. I just reread that part and agree with you. I will think of something new to add there. Are there other places where this comes up? I'll look for myself but a second pair of eyes is always helpful

i was thinking he was sad about the decaying nature of the chapter, buti reread it and your def correct about that part, rest seems fine to me, but i wrote it recently so may check it up tomorrow. Fixed up some parts just now and rewrote the end, whatcha think!

It's always good to let some time pass between when you write something and when you edit it (for content as well as other things). Just after you've written it your too involved in it to see the issues clearly. Set it down for a day, then come back to it and give it a good read over.

I understood what you were trying to say, but I'd think considering this chaplain's barely controlled rage, those feelings of sadness would manifest at some other time, not when he was confronting his hated adversary.

that is true, I will be looking it over morrow! Ihave a whole day of doing whatever till my bus home!

got to do homework now but will prob try to write some stuff tonight and then put it up!

The trick to remember with editing your own writing... is to make sure you read what you actually wrote... not what you were trying to write. You'd be amazed how often your mind will subconsciously change grammar or spelling or tense in order to make the words on the page match the narrative in your head... so you can read right over things that are pretty glaring and never notice it.

Like... tomb, rather than tome (1st sentence).

Yeah I have a lot of issue with editing sometimes. It is something I am still learning to do. Your advice makes sense, it is important to note that, I find its really easy to get sucked into the story and into what sounds good/doesnt, or what I want to change that I miss the little things which are just as important.

HAHA I never noticed that Tomb, haha That proved your point right there!

I have some stuff written out, and some more written in some notebooks, I'll get them up in the next few days. Finals have stopped my creative drive haaha. my gaming group havent seen me in weeks haha, let alone my gf

Got a game in today, It went pretty well. I lost by two kill points (6 to 8) but I had the upperhand for a few turn, and it was just some bad rolls on my meltas for my last turn. It was a great game though, def since I had played him before with a sang guard list and he had killed everything with me barely getting rid of a few units of his... so it was nice to have a very close game. He played IG with vets in chimeras, and some nasty tanks and outflanking vendettas.

My list was: Dante, libbie, 3 sang priests, 3 full assault squads with melta, pf, plasma pistol, a 5 man assault squad with flamer and PF, a vanguard vet squad, 7 vets with PF, 2 meltabombs, and Thunder Hammer, then a honor guard with stormshield, 2 PW (which ended up being useless this game), and a melta. It was a 1850 point list. eveyrthing has JP of course

I was wondering what people thought i should add in to make it 2000? I was thinking a libbie dred since that sounds nasty witha drop pod to really support my units. I was also thinking of outflanking scouts or landspeeders. what you guys think?

Sageheart wrote:Got a game in today, It went pretty well. I lost by two kill points (6 to 8) but I had the upperhand for a few turn, and it was just some bad rolls on my meltas for my last turn. It was a great game though, def since I had played him before with a sang guard list and he had killed everything with me barely getting rid of a few units of his... so it was nice to have a very close game. He played IG with vets in chimeras, and some nasty tanks and outflanking vendettas.

My list was: Dante, libbie, 3 full assault squads with melta, pf, plasma pistol, a 5 man assault squad with flamer and PF, a vanguard vet squad, 7 vets with PF, 2 meltabombs, and Thunder Hammer, then a honor guard with stormshield, 2 PW (which ended up being useless this game), and a melta. It was a 1850 point list.

I was wondering what people thought i should add in to make it 2000? I was thinking a libbie dred since that sounds nasty witha drop pod to really support my units. I was also thinking of outflanking scouts or landspeeders. what you guys think?

Personally, I always field two melta guns in my assault squads. Plasma pistols seem to blow up a bit to often for me, lol. Also, in my past experience if I have a infantry heavy army, if I included one vehicle it usually takes a lot of fire right off the bat and dies. If you have all of these jump troops adding a dread or land speeder may not be as good as just getting more jump pack marines. In your particular case you are missing one of the best things any Blood Angel player can get. SANGUINARY PRIESTS! They worth their weight in gold. Furious charge and feel no pain is amazing! Trust me. Any game over 1250 I always field three with jump packs and power weapons. Try it and tell me I'm right! lol

i want to field two meltaguns, but i just don't physical have that many meltaguns haha. i have been using count as for this army as i slowly build it up since schoolwork and bills have stopped me from getting many sets. As I build the army I plan on having more melta instead of plasma pistols.

i like the idea of a dred only because i can get that bloodlance off and they really have to use their firepower on it to get rid of it and my libbie usually gets targetted and killed pretty fast. Maybe a dred wouldnt be good, czuse of what you said, i never like having only one or two vehicles, you really have to go all out or not have really any, but i thought landspeeders could be good.

do you think outflanking scouts would help out?

oh wow i do have sang priests, iforgot to mention i had three of them, i never leave without them! hahahha!
I never give them PW thou, just JP, mostly because tehy are IC with one wound so they can get picked out in combat and i find that makes their PW almost useless. Sometimes I give them combi-meltas.

updates!

The golden =I= of the inquisition plastered the front hull of each black Rhino. It stung HostLord Freneau, making him slowly turn his power sword off and return it to his side. He could feel annoyance rising within him, but he crushed it quickly; when an Inquisitor is around you must remain emotionless, anything can be heresy to them. Freneau had seen pious warriors torn apart by the fist of the Inquisition for saying the wrong word at the wrong time. They had done nothing wrong, but they were crushed. Freneau almost wished that could be the case this time, this time though the Sky-Wardens had done something wrong; A whole strike-force turned to chaos. That was something which needed to be kept hidden.

Freneau could hear Ajak, Sergeant Stone, and the remains of Selve’s squad returning from the ruins behind them.

“It is done.” Sergeant Stone coldly murmured, standing beside his commander, his Powerfist clenching and unclenching as if it was tapping to a beat.

“Good.”

The Rhino’s doors hissed open, letting loose lines of black armored Stormtroopers: each of their helmets were branded with the fearsome =I= . Within seconds they had made a protective circle around the rhinos. Freneau almost chuckled as he watched the stormtrooper’s red-dot lasers dance upon the aquila on his armor. ‘What nerve, how dare they,’ Freneau cut himself off: pride led to things worse than death.

“Who is the CO here?” A voice barked, one of the stormtroopers tearing off his helmet to reveal a grizzled face. It was almost a beautiful face, but something had gotten to it, large burn marks had scorched much of his skin away.

“I am HostLord Freneau of the Sky-Warden chapter. May the emperor’s blessing be upon you.” Freneau chanted, ignoring the complete disregard of respect.

Sergeant Stone snarled, his powerfist crackling slightly. The stormtrooper seemed unfazed. He blasted some things into his vox, before turning his back to the marines.

“How dare you turn your back upon a Space Marine commander!” Sergeant Stone roared; a mass of red-dot lasers started to flash upon his forehead, “We are loyal servants of the one and only emperor of mankind, and you greet us with guns and disrespect! I could crush your head little man…”

The stormtrooper turned, his face in shock at the outburst.

“Enough sergeant.” Freneau whispered.

Sergeant stone backed down, his brow clenched.

“I am sorry Hostlord Freneau, one can never be too careful these days. At ease soldiers.” The stormtrooper carefully said, his eyes nervously watching the marines, “I am Captain Benzi, under command from Inquisitor Gallegos. I am sure he would like a few words with you if you would be so kind.”

“Do we look like orks to you?” Sergeant Stone spat, his fury still boiling within him despite the now relaxing stance of the stormtroopers.

“No, but recently chaos activity has been noted upon the planet. I am sure my lord will fill you in on whatever details he feels you should know of.”

Before anyone could say anything the three figures walked out of the farthest rhino. All heads turned towards them. As they marched by, the stormtroopers saluted before quickly turning back to there positions, still scanning the darkness for enemies. Freneau smiled; they hadn’t seemed to notice the Sky-Wardens watching them from their perches.

Freneau gives the figures a glance, taking in every detail. Two of the figures were just guardsmen, lingering just steps behind the quick strides of the Inquisator. They stood out among the dark landscape; one with his long purple overcoat bearing the signs of the Kronina Honor Legion. Freneau knew little of the planet. He made a mental note to look into it later. The other guardsmen wore the ornate gear of a Vostroyan officer. This was a rarity, Freneau had seen only a few such men in his time. This sector was known for avoiding help from outside regiments. Only the occasional Catachin or Cadia regiment was treated with respect. This had never been a problem due to massive military output from planets such as Turok, Mordichi, Kronina , and, before the orks invaded, Hork. The Vostroyan walked tall, his eyes staring at the grounds around him in disgust. He did not seem like he was enjoying his work with the Inquisitor. Each moment he attempted to make sure he stood taller than his leader in front of him.

The Kronina honor guard seemed almost dead: his eyes devoid of feeling as he followed along. His hands were crossed behind his back, and his mind seemed elsewhere. Freneau tried to get a better understanding of the man. He liked knowing what he was facing, but the man was almost like stone, impossible to see through.

“My the emperor be with you, HostLord.” The cold voice seeped from under the hood of the Inquisitor, “You may leave us Captain.” The stormtrooper nodded, and moved back to his men barking orders.

The Inquisitor tossed back his hood, letting his cloak fall to the ground. His golden armor gleamed as his black cloak revealed his battledress. A large red =I= covered the front plate of his armor. The image of it almost gave Freneau the shivers. There were very few things which made Freneau nervous. He had seen massive alien creatures tear apart Imperial tanks, robotic legions marching in perfect lines, traitor marines torturing capture citizens, but seeing the terror which was an Imperial Inquisitor was one of the most chilling experiences for Freneau. Each time he met one he was given more reasons to despise them. This was no different. He could already see the judgment within the shadowed eyes of the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor smiled, showing sparkling teeth.

“Nice day for some Imperial justice, wouldn’t you say marine?” The Inquisitor grinned, resting his hand upon the book of prayers hooked upon his belt.

The guardsmen behind him looked around at the carnage around them. The Vostroyan officer grimaced.
“Praise be to the God-Emperor. I am HostLord Freneau of the Sky-Wardens chapter.” Freneau blared, “I believe the circumstances here call for justice, but I don’t believe we can call it…nice” The last word sounded sick in Freneau’s mouth.

The Inquisitor paused, his eyes looking over the marine before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, gave a little smile. “You mean you find Imperial justice to not be a wonderful experience.”

“We will not play word-games with you!” Sergeant Stone roared, “I am just as much a servant of the emperor as you. I have slain traitors and xenos on a dozen planets, and you dare to question my loyalty.”

“Heresy comes in all forms” The Inquisitor smiled, “Anyway, I am being so rude: I am Inquisitor Gallegos. I have a signed order from the Inquisition and the Imperial command of Hork which gives me command of all situations where traitorous activity is suspected.” Gallegos pulled out a paper.

“I don’t need to see it.” Freneau muttered, “It doesn’t concern us.”

“Traitorous activity has happened here so I am the highest ranking…”

“Are you attempting to say you can command me?” Freneau cut in with a smile.

“No..”

“Then do not come here questioning my loyalty and try to tell me about your valued position. We are fighting orks here Inquisitor. If we see traitors we will fight traitors. But last time I checked Inquisitor, this was a planet invaded by orks not traitors, and we take orders from our SkyLord.”

“I understand.” Gallegos paused, thinking of his words before he spoke, “I was just hoping we could work together. I would like to ask you some questions?”

“If I was on a pleasure planet eating exotic fruits as I causal read over the works of Saint Mathew I would gladly answer questions.” Freneau chuckled. His voice suddenly turned cold, “but we aren’t. We are on a battleground, the only questions I am willing to answer with you is where the enemies of the emperor are.”

“I see.” Gallegos tried to find other words but he seemed to be speechless.

Freneau turned to his marines, “Move out to base.” He turned to Gallegos, whose face had transformed into a cruel smirk, “I will send you a few of my most trusted marines. They will help you as much as possible. If there are traitors here, we will make sure they do not walk long on this planet.”

Freneau turned away.

“We fly brothers.” He yelled, before zipping into the air in a red fury. His call was followed by a wind of war cries as the Sky-Wardens took to the air.

As Sergeant Stone took the air he looked down to see the Deckard moving towards the pick up site. A stormraven would be coming by to pick him up. Stone could not help but notice the particular glint in the Dreadnought’s eye. It seemed almost as if the Dreadnought was full of anger. The being’s movements seemed harsh, each step louder than usual. Stone could swear he saw the blood fist clenched so hard it was chipping its own paint.

It seemed that Inquisitor got on everyone’s nerves.




more!



Sergeant Marisol sat at the edge of the bar, his hand playing with the empty shot-glass before him. The bartender had left the bottle by Marisol, something which is not usually done: off-duty guardsmen like the drink a bit too much sometimes, and no one wanted a fight to break out, not after the commissariat busted three illegal bars this week. Marisol was a soldier of the 3rd Mordichi infantry regiment, and after last night everyone knew anyone from the Mordichi 3rd would need more than a few drinks to get over the events of the night.

Marisol shivered at the thought, his hand shaking as he poured himself another shot of the barely distilled liquor. Most men would grimace at the raw taste of the drink, but Marisol was half a bottle done, and anyway he liked to say he had tasted worse things in his life than just cheap liquor. He should have died last night, along with most of the regiment, but somehow each shot missed him. He made a quick sign of the aquila before drowning the shot, slamming the glass down. A few of the soldiers around the bar gave him some looks, but soon they all went back to their drinks, or games. Marisol was happy tonight was a quiet night in the bars; most regiments were on active duty since the last chaos wave. If it had been a little more crowded Marisol was sure he would have gotten himself in trouble by now.

“May I have a drink?”

Marisol jumped in his chair, almost drawing the blade hidden in his shoe: The voice startled him. He looked over at the shadowy figure who had just sat down next to him. He drunkenly smirked at the man, slowly pushing the bottle towards him. The shadowy man leaned over the bar and grabbed a shot-glass. Marisol’s eyes gapped for a second as he saw the golden =I= of the Inquisition dangle from the man’s neck for a second before fading back into his clock. Marisol shivered; Marisol never had many experiences he had wanted to avoid in his life, but meeting an Inquisitor had been one of them.

“What can I do for you milord” Marisol said, attempting to make his voice as formal as possible.

“I just wanted to talk, Sergeant Aaron Marisol of the Mordichi 3rd. Am I correct? The one whose squad died last night?” the Inquisitor’s voice was heartless, each word sharp.

Marisol was silent, poured himself another shot before nodding. He sped the shot down: he knew he was going to need it.

“Yes. I do happen…Yes, Yes I am Sergeant Aaron Marisol sir.” Marisol stumbled, The cheap liquor was getting to his tongue, “normally sir, I swear I am not drinking so...uh…heavily sir.”

“That doesn’t bother me Sergeant. A man is weak, he can afford to have some liquid courage sometimes.”
“thank you for having lenience sir.”

“Do you really think a man of my rank would be out bar-hopping to put some soldier in prison for a few weeks for drinking off duty?” The Inquisitor smirked, pouring himself another drink. Marisol’s hand trembled as the bottle was drawn away from him.

“I never meant to… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I know of your importance, and I respect the way you…”

“Cut it.”

Marisol fell dead silent, his eyes gazing at the bottle. The Inquisitor pushed it towards him. Marisol swiped away his shot glass and took a large swig of the bottle.

“Sergeant Marisol, I believe you have escaped death before.”

Marisol gulped, he could feel his body slouch; he knew where this was going.

“Yes sir, I have always thought the emperor protected me, maybe had a goal for me.”

“Why would you think that, you’re a guardsmen.”

“Guardsmen are not meat-shields!” Marisol burst, turning towards the Inquisitor.

The man had a gruff face, scars etched his face. His brushy eyebrows overshadowed his eyes, which made Marisol shutter, he didn’t like the idea of not being able to see into the man’s soul.

“Watch your tongue.” The response was harsh, but it quickly smoothed, “You seem to be lucky.” Marisol was about to butt in, “No. You are not so lucky! You are a psyker.”

“Proof. There is no Proof. I am no such thing!” Marisol flew off his seat. Before he could even look for the nearest exit his face smashed into the counter.

“Nothing to see here.” Marisol could hear the voice yelling out to the murmuring bar. Marisol tried to get up, but his arms were shoved behind his back. He could feel the cold touch of the handcuffs as they snapped onto his wrists.

“It is time to take a little walk Sergeant.” Marisol tried to comprehend these words but the hilt of Inquisitor Gallegos’ power sword knocked him unconscious.

Good stuff Sage. There were a few times where I wasn't sure who was speaking but other then that an easy read. I like the description of the guardsman. U may want to describe the rooms or surroundings a bit more. Keep at it.

I'll keep both those points in mind! thanks for the comments!

I liked it. I also like the fact the inquisitor wasn't the, 'back talk? HERESY!' type

update! have more, but will try to keep my posts it shorter bits

Brother-Champion Ondatje clenched his teeth as he sat in the barely lit interior of the Rhino. The rhino hadn’t been built with his mass in mind, so he had been forced to find as much room as he could between the huddled stormtroopers, and the other bulky form of Honor Guard meltagunner, Brother Whitak. Ondatje felt anger rising through him at the thought of being ordered to work with an inquisitor instead of with his chapter. Yet he knew it was a great honor to be sent here: it meant he was considered worthy to represent the chapter as well as to make sure whatever the inquisitor found, no shame could touch the chapter. Still, the crowded confined of the Rhino made him curse his position, wishing he could at least be on a combat patrol with the scouts in the middle of the sewage system rather than here.

“How long have you all been with Gallegos?” Whitak asked, his eyes scanning the stormtrooper’s helmeted faces.

No reply was given. Whitak snorted, going back to polishing his already gleaming meltagun. It was said among the chapter, that Whitak took such good care of his weapon that there could not be one scratch upon it. As Ondatje looked at the meltagun he thought of how true that rumor could be.

“Twenty seconds till disembark” the intercom system screeched, echoing throughout the Rhino.

The stormtroopers rushed into movement, loading their hellguns, and powering up their night vision. Ondatje switched on the field of his storm-shield, keeping his other hand rested on the hilt of his powersword. He would have drawn it if he had room to hold it without beheading a nearby guardsman. Whitak just yawned, pulling down the skull visor of his helmet. He raised his meltagun, aiming at the door as he had down a thousand times before the order to fly was given. Just this time they couldn’t fly. Inquisitor Gallegos had tried to convince the two marines to leave their jump-packs back at base, but they wouldn’t have it. They kept them up despite taking up almost twice the amount of room they would have normally taken within the Rhino.

The Rhino doors blared open, within seconds the stormtroopers had made a semi-circle around the doors. There red-dot lasers scanned every corner. Ondatje just walked out, keeping his storm-shield at the ready, while Whitak followed behind scanning the surrounding area with his auspex.

The rhino had already unloaded. The stormtroopers had moved ahead, watching the rest of the road for any signs of movement. The road seemed like any other street in this damn city. The trashed buildings that surrounded them were shorter though. It must be a higher class residential area, Ondatje thought. As he looked around he knew he was correct; each building was covered in ornate images of the emperor and various noblemen. A golden imperial eagle graced the top of each door: many of them were cracked or broken. Someone had written ‘deff to the ‘ummies’ upon one of them. Damn Orks.
Ondatje quickly looked for the inquisitor; he wasn’t hard to find. Gallegos stood among the front troop of stormtroopers, his body stiff. He gave a few words to his captain before making his way slowly to the two marines.

“I sent the other rhino back towards base to retrieve reinforcements. We will need them.” Gallegos smiled. Ondatje could feel resentment filling through him.

“I don’t need to hear of every move you do sir. What I do need to know is why we are here.” Ondatje splattered, lowering his storm-shield.

Gallegos’ eyes flared up, “I may let your commander be a bit less careful with his tongue, but that doesn’t allow you to. I will remind you that I am a member of the Inquisition, not some Imperial officer you can insult and disrespect.” Gallegos’ voice was soft, but each word he spoke was seeped with power and anger.

“Multiple foot hostiles moving our way. Three clicks north.” Whitak’s voice halted any attempt Ondatje had to reply to the Inquisitor.

Gallegos turned back to his men. The Stormtrooper captain was running towards them.

“Hostiles coming our way captain; get the men into defensive positions.” Gallegos yelled, “Squad one take up firing positions. Don’t fire till I vox you the order.” The captain nodded, running to take control of the front squad. Gallegos continued to bawl out orders, “Squad two, take up sniping positions in these buildings, we need to be able to cover squad one. Move now!” The stormtroopers around them were gone in a flash. They rushed into the surrounding buildings, smashing down any doors which had somehow remained lock despite the wrecked nature of the buildings.

Gallegos turned to the marines.

“I know I can’t order you, but I plan to get a higher view of the fighting to best command my men, and I would be happy to have you two accompany me.” Gallegos smirked, before running off.

“We must watch him Whitak. If the traitors come out, there can be no way they can be traced to us.” Ondatje whispered.

Whitak just nodded, he knew what they may be required to do.

The two marines powered up their jump-packs and flew up to the second floor of the building the Inquisitor had just broken into. Ondatje’s powersword smashed the window open, and jumped through. He switched his pack off. The room was in better condition than most of the ruins they had been in. Besides the shattered glass and the occasional bolt shell casing or hole, the room seemed almost new. The room was pretty bare, someone had cleared it out, but in an orderly way. Maybe the residents were attempting to take all they could before the orks took over. All that was left was the king side bed that took over most of the room, and a small chair whose back was carved into an aquilla. Whitak stood over it, his meltagun to the side. He gave a saddened look to Ondatje before pulling back the sheets.

A woman lay there, or what once had been a woman. Her head had been cleanly cut off, and was no where in view. She had been torn of her clothes, and unusually clean of blood. She lay neatly on the bed; her arms were folded across her chest. An array of golden bracelets graced each of her thin fragile wrists. She seemed almost peaceful to Ondatje, if, of course, he ignored her decapitated state.

Whitak’s auspex chimed. He gave it a glance.

“They are coming down the road, a bit over two score.” He muttered

“Flying?” Ondatje asked.

“No, running.”

Ondatje let out a sigh of relief.

Gallegos came into the room, followed by two stormtroopers. Gallegos walked by the body as if it wasn’t even there. He pulled the chair towards the window. He drew his bolt pistol, loading a new clip into it. He muttered into his vox for the rhinos to stand their ground until further ordered. The two stormtroopers slowly approached the body. To them it seemed the body was about to jump up at any second.

“Orks!” one of the stormtroopers spat.

Whitak shook his head, “No, the head was cut off too cleanly; this was done with a powersword.”

The stormtrooper gave him a sickened look. Whitak tried to give a reassuring smile before he slammed his golden helmet on. An array of information flooded his sight as his MSU did a checkup of his armor and weapons. It gave a small chime when it was done. He pulled up a small map of the area. He could see the wave of red dots rushing down the road. The dots had no order, they were just a mob. Whitak turned to Ondatje, only to see him helmeted looking over the Inquisitor’s shoulder at the deserted streets. Ondatje had drawn his power-sword and now fingered with its switch. Through years of fighting as Freneau’s honor guard, Whitak had noticed that Ondatje tended to play with his powersword before fighting orks. Orks were coming, and a good amount of them.

The other two stormtroopers had taken up positions on the sides of the window, waiting for the order to reveal themselves. The two squads of stormtroopers had hidden themselves pretty well. Whitak could still see their shadowed forms, but just barely. It was good work for a human. Whitak turned on his camouflage form. The bright red of his armor faded into the background, taking up the dull colors of the room. He brought up the map in his MSU, and watched the red dots get closer.





will post more up later!

i guess that one was kinda long too XD
will try to make other posts smaller

That's good Sage! Very enjoyable read. Nice to build the tension up too.

smallupdate! merry christmas all!!
thanks for all the feedback you all!

The first ork was the largest, almost the size of a marine. His head was covered in a crudely smashed together helmet. He wore some mismatched pants, made out of various guard uniforms. Somehow the ork had drilled a hole into the stone head of some old imperial hero, and stuck the shaft of a lascannon barrel into it. Now it was his weapon, and he rested it across his broad shoulder. His other hand patted his oversized belly that hung over his snakeskin belt. His skin was completely blue. Not one inch showed a bit of his natural green skin. If any of the skin was showing, he wouldn’t be here. Warboss Krazzz Termie-Killia would have gutted the ork for giving the waagh bad luck by showing his inner colors. Krazzz hated green, it seemed odd for an ork, but none of his boyz ever mentioned it, at least not to his face. And anyway his boyz were content with the huge contraptions Krazzz’s meks could create. They were said to be some of the best meks in the sector.

The large ork slowed down by the two empty rhinos. His blackened nail scratched a long line across the front hull, before grinning. His blue skin had given him some good luck.

“I told ya boyz ‘ere be good findin’. Whaz did Zaffaga say boyz?” He giggled, “Da big un’ will be good with dis.”

He turned to the rest of his boys: The mob of blue skinned orks had surrounded the two rhinos. They twitched in their almost unbearable urge to break the goodies apart and see what they could scavenge. Zaffaga could feel the lust to loot rising among them. He loved the rush that would soon come when the looting started. He liked prolonging it though, it spoke to his inner sadistic nature. He turned to see one ork about to climb upon the first rhino, but Zaffaga threw him off.

“Nah yet!” He screamed, “I needa tell ya all somefin’. Ya wanted ta follow dat Bad Moon Ork. Dat git woulda ‘ave ya all over da place. Dat git woulda ‘ave found nuthin’, I tell ya dat git got nuthin’. Da DeffSkulls got da findin’ thingy all wired up in da hed.” The ork stopped abruptly. He looked down at his chest to see a group of red lights dancing across his bare blue belly. Only Whitak and Ondatje could hear the few shots that fired from the silenced hellguns. Zaffaga grabbed the boy he had pushed aside moments ago, and just barely brought it up. Three shots pierced the ork body, spraying bits of its orange armor and blood to the ground. Zaffage threw the body to the side, raising his makeshift weapon into the air.

“Git them boyz!” He roared.

Before the orks could react, the two rhinos flared on with a large screech. Their stomrbolters tore through the orks, shredding orks apart as the rhinos pushed through the mob. A grizzly crunch could be heard as orks were crushed under the treads of the tanks. A few orks tried to climb onto the tanks, but the red dot lasers always found them, leaving a blood hole where the little light once danced.

Gallegos muttered something into his vox, before letting it dangle from his belt again. Whitak could just make out the image of the stormtrooper captain running into the center of the street, his powersword crackling with energy. His men made a perfect line, blocking off the way the orks came from. They let loose a few volleys of well placed shots. In only a few seconds the street was full of ork bodies. Whitak had never seen guardsmen work so efficiently. He raised his meltagun, blasting apart the head of an ork who was about to toss a stikkbomb.

Gallegos knelt forward, watching the battle with eager eyes. His bolt pistol lay in his hand relaxed. He didn’t fire a shot, just watched.

“Aren’t you going to fire that thing?” Ondatje laughed.

“My men can handle this. Orks are simple dumb beasts.” Gallegos was about to say more, but a massive thud could be heard above their heads.

“Let’s see how long you’ll hold yourself to that statement.” Ondatje smirked.

Two yellow tipped rockets trailed by smog swished from the roof towards the lead rhino. The first swerved into disarray, embedding itself into the far side of the road. Whitak could see the stormtroopers in the nearby building looking it over in surprise. It lay there for barely a second before exploding. The explosion blew apart the street, flooding the nearby buildings with shards of stone. Yells could be heard as the stormtroopers tried to shield themselves from the blast. A body fell from the second floor, his stomach impaled by a large shard of stone. The second rocket hit its mark turning the black rhino into a cloud of red flame and shrapnel. The second rhino tried to slow down, but couldn’t in time. It slammed into the back of the burning ruin. A smaller second explosion echoed through the street melting apart the treads of the second rhino. The orks let out a howled out before charging the thin line of stormtroopers. Zaffaga could be seen, heads taller than his boyz, pushing his way to the front.
Gallegos flung back his chair. He raised his bolt pistol, emptying his clip into the mob of orks.

Ondatje motioned Whitak over, and pointed to the roof. Ondatje turned to Gallegos, “Don’t worry, just think of it as a time to watch a Sky-Warden battle. I must say it is an event not many get the honor to see, Inquisitor.” Ondatje chuckled.

The two marines powered up their jump-packs. Whitak raised his meltagun at the ceiling.

“You guys should find some cover; that is of course, if you want eyes left to see our glory.” Ondatje laughed.


hope you like!

these always look so much smaller on my microsoft word!

Merry Christmas Sage!

I like it, but one nitpic
'let out a howled out' should be 'let out a howl' or 'howled out'

i always make grammer mistakes and almost never find them, ill look that one up and fix it thank you!

Enjoyed it Sage, thank you. Merry Christmas!

Thanks Git! And a happy news year to you!

my friends are all going out to a rave so im stuck at home till some of my boyz from the city make their way to Brooklyn. Raves and me don't equal well. haha.

so here is some more updates:

Bits of melted roof dropped down upon the bed, burning holes into the blankets. Whitak’s meltagun steamed as he threw it to the side and drew his combat knife. A shocked ork head looked down at the two marines. Before the ork could say a word, Ondatje blasted through the hole, with one clean swipe his powersword sliced the orks throat. Ondatje hovered above the roof, looking at the baffled orks below him. Seven orks stared at him in surprise. They wore homemade jump packs that looked more like they had just bolted on rockets onto their backs than anything else. Most of them held wicked looking blades, but two of them had brought looted Imperial Guard missile launchers and a bag of yellow headed missiles with them. Orks were a creative bunch.

Whitak flung himself onto the roof, his combat knife at the ready. The orks started to grin at the sight of a new foe, and started to try to hit their rocket packs on. Whitak rushed towards the closest one. The ork’s scarred eyes lit up as it fired his rocket launcher. Whitak ducked down, the rocket skidded across his helmet, throwing it off his head. It scattered away, exploding against the edge of the roof. Whitak covered his now bare face from the debris and dust which flew across the roof. He let out a snarl, his gold hair blowing in the wind. The ork had been closer to the blast, and had been thrown to the ground. Whitak jumped upon him, grabbing the ork by the throat and gutting the creature with his knife. With each stab he felt the ork grow lifeless. He howled into the sky. He could see four of the orks had gotten their rockets working and were zooming towards the bright red form of Ondatje. He hovered there, his arms outstretched like the many paintings of Sanguinious that decked the halls of every building upon their homeplanet. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, and he looked around the roof to see the three remaining orks trying to size him up.

He slowly got up, giving the orks a big grin. He calmly tossed his bloody combat knife from hand to hand. The orks watched him with a slight tinge of fear. The warriors slowly circled each other: Whitak waiting for just the right moment, the orks waiting for one of them to gather enough courage to attack.


Ondatje blocked off a swing from a curved choppa before returning the attack with a swipe from his powersword. The ork barely moved out of the way, bellowing smoke following his every move. A ring of smoke had surrounded Ondatje as the four orks tried to operate their makeshift jump-packs. Ondatje felt a deep sense of mirth as he watched the foolish orks try to fly. Ondatje almost laughed at the sight. It was so silly to see these uncoordinated monsters trying to get a grip on the distinct complexity of soaring through the air.

One ork finally was able to turn towards Ondatje and blasted towards him, flames erupting from his pack. Ondatje twisted out of the way, blocking off the flames with his stormshield. He drew his bolt pistol with his stormshield arm. He fired a few shots at the passing ork. Each bolt he fired minced the ork’s rocket pack apart. Jets of steam and smoke surrounded the ork before he whirled out of control. Ondatje chuckled as he watched the ork corkscrew into the street. Some things really shouldn’t fly.
Ondatje’s power armor crackled as slugs smashed against it. Ondatje turned to see one of the orks firing its slugga. The creature had gotten a hang at floating by switching his rocket pack on and off in quick secession. Ondatje smirked, but it was wiped off his face as another bolt crashed against his chest, almost knocking the wind out of him. Ondatje recovered quickly and fired his bolt pistol, but his shots rang against the ork’s breastplate that had once been a piece of an Imperial Guard tank. The ork fired again, but Ondatje had his stormshield at the ready to deflect the incoming rounds. With a mighty bellow Ondatje pitched himself at the ork. His shield pushed aside the ork’s rusted sword, twisting the creatures arm to the side. The creature yelped as his arm snapped, it was the last noise he made: Ondatje thrust his powersword through the creature’s chest. Blood splattered across Ondatje. He kicked the creature off his sword, watching it fall down onto the wrecked ruins of the Rhinos.
He felt a pain in his shoulder. It was there for a brief second before Ondatje’s

interior system took care of the pain, feeding his blood stream with painkillers. A challenge, was this possible. Ondatje turned to be face to face with the deformed face of his attacker. The ork raised its axe again for the killing stroke. Ondatje was too fast. His stormshield cracked into the ork’s face. The blow snapped the ork’s nose, letting loose wretched drizzles of crimson. With a swipe of his powersword, Ondatje slice the creature’s arm off. The ork gave one dazzled look at its bloody stump, before trying to zoom away. Ondatje sliced the creature in two. No challenge, a pity.

The last ork looked at the blood drenched marine before turning tail and trying to blast himself away. Ondatje raised his bolt pistol, took aim, and with one shot blew the fleeing ork’s brains out. No being could best a Sky-Warden in the air. Ondatje smiled as he holstered his pistol.

I think "cutting him with his nice" should be knife. Other than that quite good. Haven't seen anyone attempt a mid-air battle before. Yet it was understandable & flowed well.

thanks for the catch!

I was scared of doing a midair battle but i think it turned out pretty well!

here is a bit. I have been very busy lately, but plan to try to have more here:

Whitak pulled his combat knife out of the neck of the ork. Blood ran through his fingers The smell of blood had driven him into a frenzy. Chaplain Cartez would kill him for this, he was sure of that. Another ork charged at him. Whitak grabbed the creature’s arm, and lobbed his knife into his victim’s face. The ork shrieked. Whitak cut off the ear wrench noise with a quick crack of the enemy’s neck. The ork stumped to the ground like a ragdoll. Whitak drew his bolt pistol and unleashed the clip into the last remaining ork. The bolt shells smashed the creature apart, turning the once humanoid creature into a thick stain on the roof. Whitak took a deep breath. There was no way to hide it, Whitak loved the battle, the chaos of warfare. The smell of burning flesh, or recently shed blood drove Whitak insane faster than any other marine in the company. Chaplain Cartez always kept a good eye of Whitak’s sickening thirst. Each time Whitak seemed almost ready to fall, he took control of himself, brought his mind out of the battle. No one knew, but Whitak enjoyed walking the fine line between insanity and normality. He loved the idea that at any moment he could fall; that he had an internal battle that mattered more than any battle that surrounded him. He knew the emperor would keep him on the right path as long as the god-emperor needed him.

“Watch yourself High-Brother Whitak.” Ondatje calmly said as he landed upon the roof and surveyed the bloodshed that covered the roof.

Whitak was about to snarl, but caught himself and stood up tall.

“I understand Champion.” He nodded.

The two marines made there way towards the remains of their dramatic entrance.

In the background the marines could hear the stormtroopers cleaning up whatever remained of the ork warband. Whitak couldn’t help himself and looked back at the carnage. Joy filled him as he looked over the bloody roof. He already couldn’t wait till next time, he just wished theirwould be enough orks to fulfill his lust.

“Pride” Gallegos spat glancing at the two marines who had just returned to the room from the shattered roof, “Pride is the clearest path towards chaos.”

Whitak ignored the Inquisitor’s comment. He retrieved his meltagun and cradled it for a bit before exiting the room. He wanted to find some more orks, if the stormtroopers had left any. Ondatje glared at the Inquisitor.

“We must take pride in being chosen to be a servant of the emperor.” He spat, turning off his power sword.

“Pride can lead to egotism, and that is what chaos feeds upon.”

Ondatje scoffed. He smirked for a second before turning his back.


and some more!



Sergeant Khedive opened the door to the overbearing smell of sewage. He let out a sigh as he looked over the sickening slum he had just entered. Piles of torn up ration packs littered the floor, the occasional injector cracked under his steel toed boots. A blood stained mattress lay in the center of the floor. The still body laid there, two bloody holes in the back. Khedive let loose another sigh, pulling out a lithostick. He lit it, before slowly pulling on his gloves.

“Report.” He called out.

The armored Arbite, who had been hidden by the shadows of the room, walked forward with a datasheet in hand.

“Shots were fired in the night. Neighbors say around 2am. The shots were fired in quickly after each other. The victim is Calvin Wager, a factory worker in the nearby weapon foundry. He has no family, was a known drug user, and associate with the nearby gangs. He was known to hang out with the nearby street corner girls. We did a round, but couldn’t see anyone.” The dull officer’s voice filled the room.

“Of course you didn’t, you drove around all uniformed up.” Khedive spat, “Why am I wasting my time with this filth?” Khedive pulled his overcoat aside to pull out the asupex hanging from his belt.

“This man seemed to be..uh..er.. associated, if you get my drift sir, with a Sarah Simms, who I’m sure you know is Baron Simms’ daughter.”

Khedive nodded slowly, taking a drag of his lithostick. He scanned the body. The wounds had traces of steel and iron. A stubgun must have been used: a typical weapon among the gangs of the area.

“Interesting he wasn’t just shot in the head. The shots aren’t well placed. He didn’t die on impact, died of blood lost.” Khedive mused.

“Emotional killing?” A cold voice came from behind him.

Khedive didn’t turn around; he gazed at the shots with a quizitive look on his face.

“No. No. The shots are too well-placed.”

“I thought you said the shots weren’t placed well, Sergeant.” The cold voice made the Arbite shiver. Khedive was unfazed.

Khedive slowly got up and threw his gloves to the side.

“They are badly placed for a killing shot, but they are perfectly positioned to achieve the maximum amount of blood lost and pain to this victim. The shots also wouldn’t be so far apart and low on the body if it was an emotional shooting. They seemed only to be a millisecond between each shot, yet they are in vastly different areas of the back. The shooter must have known exactly where he was going to shoot, took aim and fired both shots right after another. Everything about the firing had been planed.” Khedive turned around to face the new speaker, “A silencer was…” Khedive’s voice faded as he saw the shining gold =I= dangling from the speaker’s neck, “ I didn’t realize I had been honored with the presence of an Inquisitor. I am..”

“Sergeant Daniel Khedive, of the detective bureau of the Arbite of Mordichi. I am Inquisitor Gallegos. Please continue with your investigation.” The cloaked man grinned, his teeth sparkling.

“I didn’t realize this murder had drawn the Inquisition’s attention.”

“It hasn’t Sergeant. Please, I enjoy listening to a man work.”

Khedive gulped, but took a hold of himself quickly. He looked back down at the body, searching for words to say.

“The man was standing” Khedive positioned himself almost above the man’s feet, “Here, and took the two shots in the back. So, the shots came from the doorway.” Khedive whirled around; The Inquisitor moved out of the doorway to give the man room to work, “No, there isn’t enough room here for the shots to be fired. They would have gone through the man if they had been shot this closely. The window, that’s it. This door must have been open, a man on that opposite roof fired through the window, and hit the man twice in the back.”

“One heck of a shot.” The Arbite scoffed, giving a worried look at the Inquisitor.

“Yes, quite a shot.” The Inquisitor smirked.

“Yes.” Khedive muttered, “It was made with a pistol.”

“No man could make that shot with a pistol.” The patrolman laughed, they died down at the steely eyed look of the Inquisitor.

“Why would you say that, Sergeant?” The Inquisitor’s voice seemed to torch the air around him.

“The holes of the wounds are too small to be from a stubgun. They must have been made by a pistol. It is an almost impossible shot. That must be two hundred feet between here and the roof, and in the darkness it would be almost impossible to see the victim without night vision.”

“That will be all Sergeant. You haven shown your skill enough.” Inquisitor Gallegos grinned. He pulled out some documents from his overslung bag, “I have authorization from your commander to pull you off duty and have you reassigned to me until further notice.”

“What? Uh, sir, I don’t mean any offense, it is indeed a great honor for you to ask, er, have me join you, but I have cases, such as this one, and what will become of those.” Khedive stammered: his mind racing as he thought of how his wife at home would react when hearing the news.

“If you mean this case, well, the dead man was a traitor.” Gallegos kicked the body, “He aided chaos cults in the area with hiding spots and sacrificial victims. He was a hertic, and so I shot him.” Both the Arbite and Khedive stood wide eyed. Khedive gazed at the open window trying to figure out the exact percent of success a man had at such a shot. “If you are really talking about your wife Sergeant Khedive, well then all I can say is that your service to the emperor and mankind overrides any emotional connection you have with one person out of the millions which need to be saved.” Khedive shivered, “But luckily for you I do plan to work within this city as much as possible, so you will get a good amount of time to see your love one when my work permits it. Your pay will also go directly to her so she won’t go hungry.”

“My pay?”

“Yes, your detective pay, where we are going you won’t need it.”

Khedive gulped at the cruel sound of Gallegos’ last words. Khedive had barely left this hive city, and when he had it had only been to go on vacation in one of the many pleasure gardens which cover the richest areas of the planet, Turok. He had no choice in the matter; he hoped his wife wouldn’t get too upset. It would be best to call her after her work at the factory rather than during her lunch shift. He flicked the remains of his lithostick towards the window. As he followed Gallegos out of the building he let out a long sigh. He guessed it was time for him to meet the lawyer and write up his will.









hope you like!

Fun read Sage. You're improving!

thank you!

I am about to start up a blog of these marines when i get back to school (in a few days) and get a camera and get my computer back from the fixit shop (in lack of a better name). So within next few weeks expect some actual models to go with the fluff! i already have sergeant stone assembled, as well as a few of his marines.

here small update, going to start P&M blog soon! got 4 painted up so far, and 15 or so glued!

“Yo git, this ain’t your street.” The yell vibrated through the tunnel.

Varn turned to look at his verbal attacker, his hand carefully resting upon the hilt of his hidden combat knife.

“Get outta here! I knew this street before your grox ma gave birth ta ya.” Varn called out, smirking.

The dim lights of the underhive flickered slightly. Varn could just barely make out three members of the nearby gang, The Young Savages, making their way towards him. One had a chain dangling from his hands.

“You’re one funny git, you know that?” The lead man laughed, his face hidden by the shadows which flooded almost every portion of the nightmarish underhive of Hork City.

“I ain’t no funnyman, I’ve gutted little brats like you before, don’t think your boys will stop me if I feel the need to make that memory a new reality.” Varn giggled. He could see the glint of Desa’s autogun hidden among the heaps of rubble that furnished the street. All Varn had to do was say the magic words and these scum would be shot to bits. Varn was hoping it wouldn’t come to that, such a waste of bullets.

The three men came but an arms distance away, their foul breath clogged Varn’s nostrils.

“This ain’t your place, you little skum dweller.” The lead man spat, his well groomed face looking out of place among his torn-up clothes, “We been selling the dope here for the last few weeks, it is our spot.”

“Don’t ya come in here claiming spots, calling me some kinda skum-dweller. Yo, you yuppie, I was born in these here parts, not like you all moving down here from up da hill. Ya think this life is enjoyable, if ya do ya all must have less brains than a baby ork.”

The lead ganger let out a roar, throwing a punch at Varn. Varn was too quick though, he ducked under the punch, drawing his eagle headed knife. In one swift motion he grabbed the leader’s neck and thrust it down onto his knife blade. The man let out a small gargle before falling to the ground. His throat bled out onto the permentally bloodstained floor. Varn had seen many people bleed out on this here street: some were his friends, most were his enemies.

In a flash the other ganger pulled out a rusty stubgun. Varn flung himself upon the man, throwing him to the ground. A few shots rang out. The fell in a messy heap on the floor, Varn tried to knife the man, but he turned over spreading his body mass over Varn’s arm. Varn elbowed the man’s stomach, trying to get his knife hand free. Where was Desa! Varn slammed his leg into the man’s gut. He had to hit the man twice before he twisted over enough for Varn to get his knife arm free. With one quick stroke, Varn slit the man’s throat. Blood spattered across Varn’s newly cleaned wife-beater. He slowly stood up to face the last man.

The man shivered at the sight of Varn’s blood splattered form. He tried to reach for his gun, but stopped at the sight of Varn’s knife. He gave a little nod and then flew away, running towards the way he came. Varn let out a little laugh, putting away his knife. Now to deal with Desa! He should have fired a while ago, that had been the plan. Desa always followed a plan to the letter. What would have made him change now? Varn looked towards where the ganger had been hiding. He couldn’t see any trace of his comrade among the rubbish. He hadn’t heard Desa leave. He looked at the rubble confused.

“Late to be on the streets kid.” The dull emotionless voice chilled Varn to the bone. He knew that voice all too well. The voice of the Imperial enforcers. Varn didn’t have to turn to see the black armored man that towered above him. The man’s piercing eyes could barely be seen through the shadow cast by the rim of his helmet. The Imperial Eagle was branded across his armor, shinning even in the dim light of the underhive. Varn cursed. Where had Desa gone?

He tried to run past them. He pushed past the first two, almost knocking one of the bulky armored enforcers over. He slide past another. He rushed down the tunnel looking back to smirk at the enforcer’s disarray. They must have been their first time dealing with a seasoned ganger. He smirked.

He turned around, just barely stopping himself from crashing into the bulky form of a tall man. Varn fell to the ground. He looked up to get a glimpse of a flashing Inquisitor necklace. Varn barely had time to think, instead he fainted.

Sageheart wrote: He turned around, just barely stopping himself for crashing into the bulky form of tall man. Varn fell to the ground. He looked up to see the flash of an Inquisitor necklace. Varn barely had time to thing, instead he fainted.

Last sentence. You may want to edit that a bit.


There were a couple of little things, but overall I liked it. Good stuff Sage!

haah i see that, thanks!

Interesting Sage, I like it too. My only complaint is that you use the term "the man" to refer to every character in the story (nearly). It's very confusing.

haha, didn't notice that either, got to run to class, but that is def something ill look into!