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Off topic,but could you guys comment my DIY chapter and tell me how to improve them.

It appears that Dark Lord Seanron has succeded with something that no-one has ever accomplished before,
He has addicted Dakka to His fluff like a junkie to heroine.

Ediin wrote:It appears that Dark Lord Seanron has succeded with something that no-one has ever accomplished before,
He has addicted Dakka to His fluff like a junkie to heroine.

Not me.

IvanTih wrote:

Ediin wrote:It appears that Dark Lord Seanron has succeded with something that no-one has ever accomplished before,
He has addicted Dakka to His fluff like a junkie to heroine.

Not me.

then why are you on almost every page of this forum???

Athlon2736 wrote:

IvanTih wrote:

Ediin wrote:It appears that Dark Lord Seanron has succeded with something that no-one has ever accomplished before,
He has addicted Dakka to His fluff like a junkie to heroine.

Not me.

then why are you on almost every page of this forum???

Shhh don't tell anyone.

*twitch* I go away for a few days and... no updates. All work and No Fluff makes Jack something something.



I've said what was needed to be said.

More fluff!

Come on DSL your last update was back on page 34!
WE NEED MOAR MOAR MOAR!!!!!

Finally got to the end of the thread and once again I'll add to the people saying.

OH MY GOD THIS IS AMAZING.

Russ vs Ultramarines.

Redemption of Magnus.

Tyranids vs Necrons

Tau vs Eldar

Imperial Fists vs Demigur

Abaddon vs the Universe

and in the middle of it all the spirit of the Emperor.....

Corennus wrote:Finally got to the end of the thread and once again I'll add to the people saying.

OH MY GOD THIS IS AMAZING.

Russ vs Ultramarines.

Where? I don`t think i have seen it yet.
Cheers!

Um he hasn't actually written the conflict yet Tere-Tubby, just the run-up to it.

Come on Magnus! show yourself to the Grey Knights!

Corennus wrote:Um he hasn't actually written the conflict yet Tere-Tubby, just the run-up to it.

Come on Magnus! show yourself to the Grey Knights!

Alright then.

I've just spent the best part of the last two days reading through this thread, and I must say it's some damn fine work, very enjoyable, gripping, and pretty well written.

Sadly I now have tho join all the others in the unceasing demand for more.

One question however; Who was the hooded figure with the Space Wolves, and whats he up to now?

Keep up the good work Seany.

Mookie.

Well it's official... I'm a dedicated cultist of Nurgle. Because my body has rotted and decayed from doing nothing but stare at this page and pressing the refresh button for a month.

@OP/DLS/"Fluffgod"

Take your time producing quality work for all of us here on Dakka. We know you are not getting paid*Edit BY US Edit*, and sometimes real life can get in the way.

By no means does this need to be your #1 Priority, I'm sure the other members of Dakka, like myself, can be patient and content with the current batch of material.

Vigilantly awaiting your next update, but again, no rush. Take your time to produce the best work you can!

/reversepsychology

I was about to tactical-nuke your home until I saw that last part...

I agree with Daemon-Archon Ren we must all learn to be PATIENT...in a case like this I'm not sure if that's even possible but we must...we need some sort of sacred chant to mutter to ourselves so we can at least stay sane...

But will DLS incorporate the hints of prophecy found in the new Blood Angels Codex, especially with regards to the role of a golden warrior in service to the Emperor. Will that warrior be Dante, as Dante supposes?

'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'

well you get the idea...

This place, he had been here before…

He felt the thick grass beneath his naked frame, and he smiled warmly. He wasn’t sure how long he had lay in this perfect place, but that didn’t seem to matter in the great scheme of things. The grass was supple and wet, as if it had rained only hours ago, but he had no memory of any rainfall, only the quiet, natural splendour that surrounded him. The sky above him shone a brilliant blue, with fat clouds dotting its majesty. The clouds removed none of the beauty from the scene, and he took a deep indulgent breath of the crisp, clean air. It was a chilly air but by no means unpleasant, and his muscular form welcomed the sensations of this beauteous place. Graceful, feathered raptors soured miles above him, their calls and birdsong adding to the calm, their white, long-feathered forms and gleaming compound eyes twinkling in the endless sky. He closed his eyes and sighed again, and wished to be nowhere else in the galaxy ever again.

A dull pain in the back of his mind pulled him from his reverie, a whispered, crooked laughter that flitted just out of earshot. His brow furrowed as he attempted to ignore the pain, but it gained in intensity as if moving slowly towards him, a redness just behind his eyes, scraping at his soul. It was this place, he was sure; he just had to move away from this place and he would be safe. He sat straight up and surveyed his surroundings, the grassy lowlands spanned out for miles upon miles, dotted with small rocky outcrops and trees and all cut by a mighty, foaming river. The pain forgotten, he smiled at the serenity of it all, and flexed his arms to loosen them. The marble-blue armour that contained his form didn’t creak or retort to his movement, and although only moments ago he was sure he had been naked, he wasn’t surprised by its presence now.

Because all this had happened before…

He leapt to his feet, and sped across the valley toward the river rapids. He laughed openly at the perfection of the place and how like a child he felt, without any cares or responsibilities, and spun as if dancing. He increased the bounds in his stride, his run consuming ground like running water. His speed coupled with the pure sunlight glinting off the blue plates encasing his body, cast miniature haze spots in his vision, adding dazzling lights and colour to the natural wonder of his surroundings. The river rushed toward him as he rain, its surface crisp and shining, no industry or grime had ever scarred its body. He thudded to a halt on its sandy bay and fell joyously to his knees, indenting the muddy bay with his bulk. He placed his gauntleted hands into the running water and took a deep drink. It was crisp and cold, life distilled into a natural flow, and he guzzled it down eagerly. As he took his cupped hands away from his mouth he stared at his reflection in the crystal waters: A noble face looked back at him, unblemished and with intense pale eyes. His hair was pale, blonde going on white, and a light line of stubble dotted his chin, giving his an air of rugged masculinity. He smiled at his own perfection. Whoever had wrought him had been a master-sculptor, a lord among artists.

His own hubris morphed his face, until he stared at a face he recognised, a face much like his own. A broad, warm face with shining eyes of amber stared back at him, its expression one of confidence and certainty. The face was clean-shaven, and its hair had been cut right down till its head was shorn. Warmth swelled in his chest as he looked upon the face. To look at it was to know love and peace, and he felt secure just gazing into its eyes. A name formed as he looked upon the reflection that was not his own, a name he knew well.

Horus

Yet as the name formed, a change took the perfect being in the waters surface. The eyes closed and a look of intense sadness and regret took over it. Dark lines began to criss-cross the face like spider webs, and the water began to boil and writhe. He tried to pull himself away from the reflection, but he could not move. The reflection that was not his own opened its eyes showing wellsprings of madness and hatred. A wicked grin filled with serrated fangs slashed open the face, and its brow furrowed in maddened anger. He could hear a voice, a voice he knew all too well even after all these years speak straight into him. It resonated through the water, through time and space and deep into his core.

MY FATE SHALL BE YOURS BROTHER

He screamed as waves of pain lashed at him, and was finally torn from his invisible prison. He swung both his fists into the hateful pool and the water erupted in broad waves and droplets as he smote away the nightmarish vision. He crouched at the bay, breathing heavily, salted tears and river water stinging his eyes. The reflection in the water was his own again, although his look of peace was now one of weariness and panic.

Something moved behind him, something in the corner of his eye.

He spun like a whirlwind and lashed out with his fist, striking nothing but air. A cold, sharp laughter cracked around him and he spun on the spot, lowered in a feral stance of defence. “Who is there?” he called out, his voice authoritative and determined, “show yourself, coward!”. The laughter sounded again, closer than before, as if standing at his side. He swung his arm in a broad arc, but still hit nothing. The laughter increased in harshness with each failed blow, and eventually smothered the very air itself. He called out again, rage-filled tears masking his vision, his frustration

“COWARD!”

“A coward am I?”

He spun around, the voice emanating from behind him. A fog had descended faster than any natural law would allow, and blackened shapes could be seen flitting between its folds. Panic gripped him as the voice spoke straight into him, like an arrow of molten metal.

“Who is the real coward here? You abandoned them all, coward. You abandoned your master when he needed you most. You lay sleeping whilst the thieves, and the daemons and the horrors of this world consumed your people. Coward”

He flinched as memories assailed him: being frozen in place as if a vice held him, the whispers of temptation that threw him into slumber, and the face, that hateful face, so pale and mocking in its perfection, its serpentine eyes laughing at his weakness as it lashed at him with talons and bone and blades. He saw alien horrors descend from the sky to consume his world and the death of dozens of his warriors. He saw his people grow fat and decadent through his isolation, revering him as some kind of base thane or deity. He watched, and he saw the galaxy burn around him. He gripped his head and fell to his knees, a heavy sob wracking his throat. He stared through bloodshot, frustrated eyes and bellowed his defiance to the fog.

“I am no coward. It was beyond my control! I could not have stopped any of it!”

“We both know the truth of it, Coward. We know the offer the blades gave you; we know what you chose…”

More pain. More memories. A harsh purple light filled his mind, and an all too familiar voice sounded in the kinetic skies. He remembered the offering, the subconscious offer that would shape his destiny, and he remembered the vastness of his decision. The pain in his chest was unbearable as panic filled him once more, oblivion or containment, existence or entropy. He remembered the cowardice he felt at that moment, and he was ashamed. He wept openly at what he already knew.

“Leave me daemon, do not torment me anymore…”

The laughter cut through him like a blade, and he winced in agony. Blood boiled through his mind and the old wound on his throat seemed to burn at him. He blearily opened his eyes and beheld finally the source of the voice. A tall, thin figure stood before him, clothed in stained and blackened robes of deep crimson. A heavy hood covered its face, but the darkness that lay there came from no natural shadow. Blackened whips of smoke seemed to flow from beneath its robes and it constantly shifted in and out of his vision. It inclined its head towards him and laughed mirthlessly.

“I am always here Coward, I am here to remind you of your failures. But this time I bring with me a message, a warning of things to come.”

Tears ran down his face, and his lip trembled as the creature lowered itself so they were face to face. He could not discern any features amidst the shadows, but he knew he was utterly terrified of what lay beneath the crimson hood.

“The wolves are coming…they come to punish your weakness!”




Robuote Guilliman sat bolt upright in his bed, panting heavily, sweat staining his body and the deep blue sheets that wrapped haphazardly around him. He gasped in the cold air of his bed chamber and stared into the blackness, trying to blink away the after images of the horrors that assailed his sleep this night. Not just this night, every night. He was no longer in the hatefully perfect valley, he was home, in the Palace of Olympus, he was on Macragge. He held his thumping head in his heads, trying to squeeze the visions of despair from his body. Ever since he was entombed in stasis all those moons ago he had dreamt of the red-monk and his horrifying revelations. For centuries he had endured the visions, unable to move or banish them, and they had followed him into the waking world to remind him of his failings.

But tonight had been different, the warning was new.

Guilliman swept from his bed and padded across the marble floor to his wash-chamber. The ground beneath him was cold and reassuringly real beneath his toes, the beautiful mosaics of krakens and holy warriors clad in blue giving him some comfort. Glow-globes shone dimly as he approached them, illuminating the darkness, and revealing the grandness of his personal chambers. He approached a white marble basin, filled to the brim with cold, icy water pumped from the peaks of Mount Galileo for his personal use and splashed his sweaty face. He gripped its sides, and looked into his mirror. An ashen face stared back at him, its eyes haggard and grey and its skin sallow and pale. The primarchs, the gene-sons of the God-Emperor, were immortal, and did not age like mortals, but since his reawakening, Guilliman had visibly aged and darkened. His eyes were grey and lined, and dark bags hung beneath them a testament to his increasing insomnia. The pressures of the new waking world were taking their toll, this was plain to see. The primarch sighed deeply, and closed his eyes.

His brothers had abandoned him.

The Imperium had abandoned him.

His Father had abandoned him.

He had to do whatever it took for Macragge to survive, as he had always done. If certain luxuries had to be cast aside then so be it, if freedoms were to be lost to secure mankind’s place in the stars then the necessary sacrifices should be made willingly. One man could not shoulder the responsibility of leadership without said sacrifices. But still the naysayers and parasitic whelps complained and rebelled. Why couldn’t they see what was necessary?

And now more interlopers from beyond the stars came to usurp him. More rabble to knock at his door and demand that the galaxy be kinder. The galaxy was death, disease and destruction, and he would ensure that Macragge would not be found wanting. Without him, The New Imperium was nothing, it would crumble and fall, just as his Fathers realm had fallen before him. He needed to prepare, he needed to defend his lands, his people, his Empire. The Basin cracked beneath him as he tightened his grip, water cascading and pooling around his feet, and Guilliman stared at its wreckage. How easily things of beauty could be unmade if care was not taken. He nodded with finality, as the laughter rose up in his memory once more.

Let them come, he thought, let them come and try to take what is mine.

w00t! The mighty fluff god has returned, with fluff from... my... least favorite primarch. lol. Still damn good, though. Keep it up!

omg this is gonna be good... Watchin ght Smurfs fight Vikings (Aka Ultra Marines and Space wolved go at it...)

I can't wait.

Interesting. I didn't realise it was Guilliman until he woke from the dream; I actually thought it was Fulgrim. The words Horus' reflection speaks should be a massive screaming warning. Forget the confinement, listen you idiot. But nobody stops to think they are repeating the mistakes of the past.

Or don't. I don't particularly like Guilliman and find the irony of him following in his brother's footsteps amusing.

ZOMG!!!!!!!!!!
WOW, you have done it again DLS, you have blown my mind...again!

FLUFF FROM THE FLUFF GOD!!!!!!!!!
UPDATES FOR THE UPDATE THRONE!!!!!!

so relived that there has been a update, that should stop the shakes for a while...lol

Good stuff, as always cant wait to see what goes down next tho hope Gulliman doesn't pull a Horus and start worshiping the dark Gods to save his own butt lol

praise be to the dark lord for he has returned to deliver us from the world that lacks his fluff!

I always thought that there would be no fighting between the wolves and Ultramarines since they have their primarchs who will find a another way or the Roboute is corrupted by the chaos and will fight Russ.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've reached the end of the written fluff!!!!!
Oh well, I guess I have to wait like the rest of you.
Amazing stuff DLS. Really, just amazing!
Please continue

P.S. You've outflCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!!!!anked my heart
LOL keep it up!

cadian512 wrote:'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'
'dear fluff-god please give us the strength to stay sane whilst we wate for an update from your most humble servant'

well you get the idea...

A Litany of safeguarding update addiction... interesting

Guilliman becomes Horus. Now THERE'S irony.

And Guilliman making a pact with daemons to free his body of the poison? nice.

Leman Russ vs Guilliman.

Let's hope it doesn't end like Sanguinius vs Horus.....