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Made in us
Blood-Drenched Death Company Marine






Indianapolis

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.

   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Stormin' Stompa





Rogers, CT

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

   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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!

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Decrepit Dakkanaut






Madison, WI

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

Anvildude: "Honestly, it's kinda refreshing to see an Ork vehicle that doesn't look like a rainbow threw up on it."

Gitsplitta's Unified Painting Theory
 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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!

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

these always look so much smaller on my microsoft word!

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Stormin' Stompa





Rogers, CT

Merry Christmas Sage!

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

   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Decrepit Dakkanaut






Madison, WI

Enjoyed it Sage, thank you. Merry Christmas!

Anvildude: "Honestly, it's kinda refreshing to see an Ork vehicle that doesn't look like a rainbow threw up on it."

Gitsplitta's Unified Painting Theory
 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2011/01/02 00:11:35


"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Decrepit Dakkanaut






Madison, WI

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.

Anvildude: "Honestly, it's kinda refreshing to see an Ork vehicle that doesn't look like a rainbow threw up on it."

Gitsplitta's Unified Painting Theory
 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

thanks for the catch!

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

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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!


"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Decrepit Dakkanaut






Madison, WI

Fun read Sage. You're improving!

Anvildude: "Honestly, it's kinda refreshing to see an Ork vehicle that doesn't look like a rainbow threw up on it."

Gitsplitta's Unified Painting Theory
 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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.

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2011/02/25 03:42:50


"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Blood-Drenched Death Company Marine






Indianapolis

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!

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2011/02/25 03:15:03


   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

haah i see that, thanks!

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
Made in us
Decrepit Dakkanaut






Madison, WI

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.

Anvildude: "Honestly, it's kinda refreshing to see an Ork vehicle that doesn't look like a rainbow threw up on it."

Gitsplitta's Unified Painting Theory
 
   
Made in us
Boom! Leman Russ Commander





United States

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

"Reality is, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away"
-Philip K. Dick

Constant Lurker, Slowly getting back into modelling! Someday a P&M Blog link will lurk here! 
   
 
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