Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

ooc: Just a fun experiment, a short story coming from the thought processes of not quite sane sniper. This is Stream of Consciousness writing, so be warned if you don't like that style.


A simple job, take out the general. Amateurs could do it. I agree to take it because I am the best; my callsign is Goddess, and I am the Emperor's finger of death. The war of course goes on around me, but it does not involve me any more. Cries of help over the radio. Medic. Air support. The thunderbolts overhead provide excellent cover for my movements. The explosions, of course, do better, but that last one was unfortunately close. Shrapnel tears my chameleoline slightly-- will have to adjust movements to compensate.

Enemy forces focused on the firefight, don't notice me. Ugly bastards, heavily mutated. Must not kill them and give away position. Or presence of a sniper. Target must not be spooked, must be lulled in to sense of security. Motorized engine noise-- a tank? Yes. Lay low, let the synskin bodyglove hide me from its auspex, no movements to give away position. Walker-tank, six legs, two arms, battle cannon. Likely presence of heretic marines, must adjust tactics.

Astartes spotted. Red armor, covered in far too much blood and brass. Heretic, blood god follower. Insane, easy to fool. He misses me, just like the tank did. Imbecilic traitor. Must not kill... must not give away presence. Tempting to kill traitor astartes. Must leave the glory to the front lines instead. Cannot risk reporting, vox traffic will give away position. Didn't take microbead anyway, just in case I make a misstep. Can only rely on own skill-- the Imperial Guard is a sledgehammer, I am a dagger in the night.

Hidden. Weapon is not assembled, instead protected inside of a case. Effectively defenseless, to encourage better stealth movement. Enemy undisciplined, but do not risk taking out patrols-- even undisciplined commanders may notice missing patrols. Patrols untalented anyway, do not notice details, even changed details. Camo cloak sufficient even for an amateur. I could slip by naked. Would not want to, too cold. Planet became colder upon invasion, as if heretics are sucking out the warmth of the world. They may very well be doing so.

Target region located. Finding suitable location for execution of mission. Victim will approach upon main road, showing himself off in a display of strength. I will prove the Imperium is stronger. That I am stronger. For I am Goddess, and I am the Emperor's dagger in the dark, his poisoned stiletto. Tower climbing is exhilarating, must not get caught up in the excitement. Excitement throws off aim. Calm. Breathe. Silence. Relax. There is nothing in the world except for me and my weapon, and the one bullet which will destroy my target, and the target himself. The victim.

Nothing more than a corpse that doesn't know it is dead yet. Perhaps has family. Let them mourn, not my job. Doesn't deserve to be mourned anyway. No feelings-- no anger, no pity, no remorse, no hesitation, no doubt. His vehicle comes along the road. I can see him through the armored glass. No need to risk the glass throwing off the bullet's trajectory. I am goddess-- infinitely patient, infinitely powerful. The Emperor's mercy. He kisses his daughter. Must kill her as well, do not want a line of succession.

Daughter looks angelic. Pure human. No pity, no remorse. I am the end, the deliverer of souls. He moves between his daughter and myself. Distance, 2.4 kilometers. Wind, nonexistent. Bullet drop calculated. A perfect shot. No hesitation. Father chats with daughter, laughs. No doubt. No remorse. No pity. The finger twitches. Recoil throws off vision. Vision re-established 0.4 seconds later. Daughter hugs father. Both die instantly. No remorse. No remorse. No remorse. No doubt. I am Goddess, and I am the Righteous Hand of the Emperor. I hold His wrath. I am His wrath.

Older victim, male, approximately fifty years of age. Heretic general. Cause of death, anti-materiel round penetrated the heart, destroying it instantly, killing him instantly. Younger victim, female, approximately twelve years of age. Successor to heretic general. Cause of death, anti-materiel round penetrated the lower half of the skull, severing spinal cord. Resulting force liquefied lower half of head, decapitated upper half. Not father and daughter any more. Just victims. No angel, no face. No fatherly love. No family. Corpses, nothing more. No remorse, no pity, no doubt. I am Goddess, and I am Death.

Very well done! Will be awating more

After reading it some more, I think I kind of stopped at a good time. That style of writing might get really tiresome if it dragged on any longer...

This is a great read, and unlike your last short enough to catch my span of attention. It seemed like the genuine notes of what a sniper could do. Indeed a true devout of the Emperor, I shall take much note when I do my own writing.

For the critique, well time-stamp it. That seems like an action any sensible sniper would do.

Beaviz81 wrote:For the critique, well time-stamp it. That seems like an action any sensible sniper would do.

Oooh, another experiment!



ETA: 7.35.05
A simple job, take out the general. Amateurs could do it. I agree to take it because I am the best; my callsign is Goddess, and I am the Emperor's finger of death. The war of course goes on around me, but it does not involve me any more. Cries of help over the radio. Medic. Air support. The thunderbolts overhead provide excellent cover for my movements. The explosions, of course, do better, but that last one was unfortunately close. Shrapnel tears my chameleoline slightly-- will have to adjust movements to compensate.

ETA: 7.30.20
Enemy forces focused on the firefight, don't notice me. Ugly bastards, heavily mutated. Must not kill them and give away position. Or presence of a sniper. Target must not be spooked, must be lulled in to sense of security. Motorized engine noise-- a tank? Yes. Lay low, let the synskin bodyglove hide me from its auspex, no movements to give away position. Walker-tank, six legs, two arms, battle cannon. Likely presence of heretic marines, must adjust tactics.

ETA: 7.29.02
Astartes spotted. Red armor, covered in far too much blood and brass. Heretic, blood god follower. Insane, easy to fool. He misses me, just like the tank did. Imbecilic traitor. Must not kill... must not give away presence. Tempting to kill traitor astartes. Must leave the glory to the front lines instead. Cannot risk reporting, vox traffic will give away position. Didn't take microbead anyway, just in case I make a misstep. Can only rely on own skill-- the Imperial Guard is a sledgehammer, I am a dagger in the night.

ETA: 4.27.00
Hidden. Weapon is not assembled, instead protected inside of a case. Effectively defenseless, to encourage better stealth movement. Enemy undisciplined, but do not risk taking out patrols-- even undisciplined commanders may notice missing patrols. Patrols untalented anyway, do not notice details, even changed details. Camo cloak sufficient even for an amateur. I could slip by naked. Would not want to, too cold. Planet became colder upon invasion, as if heretics are sucking out the warmth of the world. They may very well be doing so.

ETA: 3.01.55
Target region located. Finding suitable location for execution of mission. Victim will approach upon main road, showing himself off in a display of strength. I will prove the Imperium is stronger. That I am stronger. For I am Goddess, and I am the Emperor's dagger in the dark, his poisoned stiletto. Tower climbing is exhilarating, must not get caught up in the excitement. Excitement throws off aim. Calm. Breathe. Silence. Relax. There is nothing in the world except for me and my weapon, and the one bullet which will destroy my target, and the target himself. The victim.

ETA: 0.06.11
Nothing more than a corpse that doesn't know it is dead yet. Perhaps has family. Let them mourn, not my job. Doesn't deserve to be mourned anyway. No feelings-- no anger, no pity, no remorse, no hesitation, no doubt. His vehicle comes along the road. I can see him through the armored glass. No need to risk the glass throwing off the bullet's trajectory. I am goddess-- infinitely patient, infinitely powerful. The Emperor's mercy. He kisses his daughter. Must kill her as well, do not want a line of succession.

ETA: 0.00.04
Daughter looks angelic. Pure human. No pity, no remorse. I am the end, the deliverer of souls. He moves between his daughter and myself. Distance, 2.4 kilometers. Wind, nonexistent. Bullet drop calculated. A perfect shot. No hesitation. Father chats with daughter, laughs. No doubt. No remorse. No pity. The finger twitches. Recoil throws off vision. Vision re-established 0.4 seconds later. Daughter hugs father. Both die instantly. No remorse. No remorse. No remorse. No doubt. I am Goddess, and I am the Righteous Hand of the Emperor. I hold His wrath. I am His wrath.

ETA: 0.00.00
Older victim, male, approximately fifty years of age. Heretic general. Cause of death, anti-materiel round penetrated the heart, destroying it instantly, killing him instantly. Younger victim, female, approximately twelve years of age. Successor to heretic general. Cause of death, anti-materiel round penetrated the lower half of the skull, severing spinal cord. Resulting force liquefied lower half of head, decapitated upper half. Not father and daughter any more. Just victims. No angel, no face. No fatherly love. No family. Corpses, nothing more. No remorse, no pity, no doubt.

ETA: -0.00.05
I am Goddess, and I am Death.

Glad you liked my feedback, this is simply kingly. Would shudder to know what's wrong in your eyes in my fanfic.

Part 2: Exfiltration. Go.

Pretty impressed, the writing style made it considerably more interesting to read than some of the more longwinded pieces of fiction posted here and while it got a little repetitive with the emperors wrath stuff that is to be expected from a loyal imperial. All in all some good stuff!

The repetition near the end was meant to represent her talking herself in to killing a twelve year old, unmutated girl.

Yeah, as I said it made sense in the context.

Pretty good! I like it!

Very good! I think you did a stellar job of painting the mind of the sniper pre and post shooting. Would love to have your feedback on my fiction, although it is not nearly as short as yours.

I agree you ended it when it needed to be ended. This would make an amazing prologue to a larger story where only certain aspects of the story are in the stream of consciousness writing style. With the rest of the story filling in the blanks. Or, it could be an epilogue to a larger story.

I recall Battletech had a running character merely called "the assassin" that they employed time and again through several of their books. You could utilize this character in the same way.

I really dislike judging other peoples' fanfiction.

Going to be writing more short pieces until I get inspiration to continue The Betrayer.

Nicely written. The stream of consciousness took a bit to get used to, but it didn't stop me from enjoying the story.

Just one question: is the main character an IG sniper or an agent of the Assasinorum? Because she seems more like the latter.

The former. She's a Guard sniper.

I don't think she's sane or mentally stable enough to be the latter.