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It was my suggestion, you are free to take it or leave it. When all comes to all, I only give advice.

No no, its a very good idea. Helps connect our stories

If you want to connect our stories, then I sort of assume the Imperial Navy will be hovering around the planet, with the differencing vessels doing orbital bombardment (you don't need to bring that along right away) and delivering the reinforcements to the planet (the capital is being bombarded by the brave Imperial Navy would likely go round the planet at least as a vox-cast, and likely as a pict-cast as well). Plus the Dark Eldar is beginning to show up (a Torture cruiser just crashlanded in a hive with billions of people and are casually starting to rape the faithful and the heretic alike in cruel and inventive ways). Of course geography and distance can omit those events if you don't want them to affect your guy directly.

CHAPTER 5: Empty.


Amongst Everors, Havelok was famed for his incredible and unrelenting rage. But now, he was long passed anger and had progressed into daemonic insanity. If he could move, there would be nothing living and breathing within 100 miles. The only part of him he had under control was his mind and even that was gradually failing him, the corner of his vision blurring and a dull static sound plaguing his thoughts, making it difficult to think at times. He had been traveling down these streets for hours now, just walking slowly, zombie-like. People had just started to leave their chrome coloured houses, the ash-clouds recently passed. Even now he could see the occasional civilian walking down the far end o the street. This was bad. Very bad. In his controled state he could not fight back. He could not react. He could do naught but walk onwards. A mother and daughter exit a domecile beside him, poor but happy. The Mother looks up to see him. Skull helmed, armed with blade tipped claw and now deactivated power sword as well as bedecked in heavy armour covered in layers of dirt, las scortches and dried blood. Needless to say, she and her daughter scream, atracting more attention. In five minutes, there are dozens of pathetic men, women and children running panicedly in all directions. One shouting man runs back inside his home to produce a laspistol, old and long outdated. The shaking man pulls the trigger five times, all tiny beams of light impacting against the nightmare's turned head, the only mark to show for the attack are five tiny burn marks. The man might as well have thrown a lit cigar at his head. Panic reigns. Havelok feels a slight feeling of satisfaction at seeing the people run in horrified fear in all directions.

Then something very strange happens. Only just outside his viewing arc, right above him, two very fast moving...things dart over the spire rooftops. He could not tell their identity by the shadows but they were narrow, sleek and covered in barbs. Havelok exerts just enough mental willpower to make his eyes glance up to see a third such strange thing careering down towards him, the small, one-man craft almost completely engulfed in flame. If he could move, he could have easily avoided the crashing vehicle but unfortunately he could not, and the craft, with all its hooked barbs and bladed front ploughs straight into him.

Not my best, I have just woken up, but tell me what ya think of it!

Poor, poor man. Nobody deserves to walk around all zombie like in a ash coverd hive, btw I will demand more feedback!

Of cource! On mah way.

Oh nice touch, Venom.

Lolwut?

Venom http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Venom#.T61qJNnLnBE the description fitted, so I assumed.

BAM. Correct.

Someone said Vennom? I dunno what that band has to with Dark Eldar but hye it makes me crave even more!

Lol. Imma take a little break for a while.

CHAPTER 5: (Continued)


It was hot. Very hot. With a rasping breath, Havelok opens his whiring, lensed eyes. Fire was all around him, engulfing his body in a whirling firestorm. With a drug-induced shudder, he rises up to his booted feet. The sleek, black craft had crashed directly into him, its barbs and blades hooking and pinning him to the ground, scortched wreckage thrown in all directions. Looking down the devastated street, he could see several other such crafts had met their fate in the form of the hard ferrocrete ground. The road was littered with eviscerated corpses, some pale-skinned eldar, most dismembered humans. Amongst the numerous downed vehicles were roughly half a dozen functional ones, hovering silently just above the ground, two cone-helmed figures standing upon the rear of each craft. They were exactly 216 metres away. Most carried the typical dark-eldar infantry weapon, but two amongst their number wielded large lance-like cannons, crackling with jett black energies. Three amongst their ranks were surgically modified, with venemous blades and acid-dripping devices replacing their hands and iron masks mounted upon their faces. They seemed too occupied to notice him. They were busy torturing any survivors they could find, Wyches carefuly and slowly disembowelering injured and dying civilians. Havelok could see a succubus behead a screaming midle aged man, the ghoulish figure taking on a noticible youthful sheen.

Striding tall through the flaming debris, Havelok draws his power sword, pressing the activation rune at its hilt, a crackling field of white hot energy flickering across its surface. With a blood-curtling screach, he leaps foward, blade raised high. As he lands, the Succubus spins round, a barbed and segmented whip darkting foward around his left arm. With a chuckle Havelok glances down to his entangled arm. It had been long since an enemy had got the first blow in. To bad it had been so pathetic. Havelok tilts his head and looks towards the barbed figure mockingly, and grabs the Xeno's whip-wielding arm and pulls her foward. She panicedly fires the pistol point blank into his chest to no avail, he shards shattering against his thick chestplate. With a daemonic roar, one hand gripping hers, he kicks her in the gut. Hard. With a grotesque tearing, the arm comes flying loose, sending blackened blood spraying in all directions. The weakling falls to the ground with a thud, writhing there weakly. With an enraged cry, he grabs her by her flowing black hair and slams her head repeatedly against the hard ferrocrete ground, breaking her nose and shattering teeth. With a slight pause and a chuckle, Havelok drags her along the ground to her decapitated prey she had brutaly slaughtered seconds ago. He lifts her head up just high enough to see the body. While with a ghoulish laugh his power sword flickers down. Befitting retribution complete, he draws his executioner pistol, and with a nightmarish scream runs towards the waiting Xenos scum.

Done. What ya think?

EDIT'd.

You don't need to ask for reviews. You will get them.

Oh this was brilliant, The Dark Eldars coming and bveing described so well. Loved it. Especially the graphic detail with the Succubus. Teeth and all.

Thank you! Da Evesor really likes his vengance

This was great, Go Eversor!

Thank you

CHAPTER 6: Dropped


Havelok looked up. The Xenos scum had risen to its feet, half a leg and an arm missing, envenomed blade clutched weakly in one hand. With a chuckle he gets up slowly and delibrately, his gore-soaked gauntlet ripping free from the sprawled kabalite's weak rib cage, pulling the creature's blackened heart with it. The pathetic creature obviously nearing the end of its life, Havelok lets loose a spine-chilling screech of pure evil before putting an acid round from his executer pistol straight into its torso, the chestplate melting away within an instant. The thing falls to the ground screaming in agony as its body fills with the pale yellow liquid, disolving it from the inside out. Sweeping around, he plunges his bloodied claw through an oncoming Wych's face, her head explodin in a shower of gore and bone shards. Before the assassin can turn however, a beam of raw shadow ploughing into his thickly armoured back, sending his crashing through a nearby ferrocrete wall with a crunch. Leaping to his feet rapidly, Havelok spins to face the direction of the attacker. A fair distance away, standing in his small craft, stands one of the black-armoured kabalites, the barrel of his sleek projectile enveloped in a field of cracklng darkness. Venemous splinters shattering all around him, he charges.

With two metalic clicks, two bolt rounds burst through a twisted wrack's gut and neck, the bladed abomination stumbling slightly. Havelok sidesteps as the thing swings at him brutishly, missing wildly. And he had though these 'Dark eldar' were suppost to be skilled. With a flick of the wrist his gauntlet lodges itself between the howling thing's shoulder blades, making it fall to its knees. Stepping backwards with an insane laugh, Havelok draws his hand backwards in a quick motion, a chunk of the scum's spine coming with it. Just narrowly leaping from the path of a second shadowy beam, he glances sideways, catching sight of three more splinter-rifle armed kabalites aproaching through the ruined buildings, a dozen or so ghoulish Mandrakes materialising from the shadows behind them, each wielding some horribly serrated or hooked blade in their clawed hands. Hearing a loud, tortured moan, Havelok looks quickly over his shoulder. Exactly 24 metres away stand a huge hulking figure, numerous tubes and pipes filled with drugs and other disgusting coloured fluids cover the thing's body. One hand had been replaced with a large, sissor-like device, dripping a mixture of blood and toxins. The moans come from behind it's crude iron mask, the only gaps two holes where the pityful things eyes should be. With a booming roar, it charges.

Nicely done, will love to see the Wrack fight.

Thank you! Next part coming soon.


Its a grotesque btw!

Hey the theRobotLol. So I just want you to know that I am reading this and will eventually post a big critique of it, similar to my critique of Trondheim's work. But it may take a bit.

LoneLictor wrote:Hey the theRobotLol. So I just want you to know that I am reading this and will eventually post a big critique of it, similar to my critique of Trondheim's work. But it may take a bit.

Hope you can do me the favor as well, I'm referring to the First Action, but that's a really long read. And I know, I sort of overreacted as Trondheim pointed out at an earlier post about LL.

Beaviz81 wrote:

LoneLictor wrote:Hey the theRobotLol. So I just want you to know that I am reading this and will eventually post a big critique of it, similar to my critique of Trondheim's work. But it may take a bit.

Hope you can do me the favor as well, I'm referring to the First Action, but that's a really long read. And I know, I sort of overreacted as Trondheim pointed out at an earlier post about LL.

Sure, after reading this story I'll finish "The First Action". But you'll probably hafta wait a few days. Hope you don't mind.

Not at all.

CHAPTER 6: (Continued)


With a groan Willem picks up his helmet, an enclosed bug-eyed thing, and places it onto his head, the locks automaticly sealing it on to his thick carapace armour. He remembered next to nothing of the last night, the only thing coming to mind is that he'd being getting very, very drunk. He had woken up hours ago on the very same sofa he had passed out on but the bar had been empty, it had been the dead of night. Then some idiot sounded the damn alarm, flashing red lights and all, and his ears had nearly imploded. Then he had walked slowly to the armoury and then this had happened. Yeah, yeah, he was sure that had happened, he just had to retrace his steps. To his knowledge, no one here yet knew what threat they were facing and neither did he. But the few vox-calls he make out were terrified sounding and paniced, like they had just seen their worst nightmares. Armour in place and bolt pistol in hand, he sprints towards the nearest surface enterance, his squad following silently behind. From infront of him, several other squads leave their platoon armoury, most of them barely men. Slowly and with a metalic clunk, the heavy adamantium gate opens, who knows what on the other side. If it hadn't been for the huge lights mounted on the perimeter wall, it would have been pitch black, the moon and stars blocked out by the near constant ash clouds. It was ice cold. Slowly the force fans out, men, sentinels, and hellhounds mving in all directions.

As the large force sweeps the perimeter, a question comes to mind. Why sound the alarm? There were no hostiles or evidence of them her whatsoev--He is cut off mid thought as a hail of fist-sized shells explode against the ground all around, several surprised guardsmen destroyed by the rounds in a burst of blood and meat. Diving behind a nearby ammunitions crate, Willem grabs a fallen man's scoped long-las, the unfortunate owner obliterated in the storm of bullets moments prior. With a grunt he raises the weapon's scope to his eye, searching for the source of the attack. He finds it. On the thick, ferrosteel wall are normaly numerous turret systems, each mounted by a highly trained trooper. That was not what he now saw. The heavy bolters had been turned to face inwards, each manned by a filthy cultist, each covered in weeping boils and tattered rags. By the looks of them they were foul devotees of Nurgle, one of the four chaos Gods he had breifly learnt about years ago. At their feet lay the bodies of the guard, each dismembered horribly, a testament to the cultist's insane violence. With a single pull of the trigger, a cultist's face explodes, the rotted remains of his head covering everything nearby as he slumps to the grated steel floor.

Warning: When I wrote this part I was half asleep but didn't dare delete it.
So any sugestions on how to make it better are, as always, welcome .

Boom headshot. I sort of thought the las left cauterized wounds, other than that it's quite good, though short.