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Hi All,

So you may or may not have seen the recent thread in the News and Rumors section highlighting that GW were advertising for new Freelance Writers to add to its 'pool' (presumably a pool of blood, sat atop Mount Gorefang on the planet of MurderRage). Anyway, a number of Dakkanaughts (myself included) have submitted briefs and eagerly await GW's blood splattered responses.

The Test Briefs

For those of us that are rejected, I think it would be living testament to our (not so) hard work to post those short stories in once place - forever immortalized in the great hall of writing that is the Dakka Fiction section.

So - post, read, criticize, learn and most of all enjoy!

I LOVE that text! But no story though.

Here are my rejected briefs. Looking back, I see that I didn't write the briefs in the verb tense GW likes (simple past).

The Test Brief Part 1

Rodrigo wants to put a bolt round in the ork’s head and it could be an easy kill. But, close combat it is. The Imperial Fist calmly attaches the bolter to his bike, lifts his chainsword and directs his hatred into a leaping overhead attack off the seat of his broken bike. The ork halts his charge and laughs as it receives the Astartes with sweeping deflection of his ax. Rodrigo lands in a roll. Already, the ork is on him to deal a killing stab with its power sword. Rodrigo jabs his chainsword hand guard into knee of the beast, eliciting an ear-splitting growl. The ork responds with a powerful kick into the Space Marine’s side. A crack announces a breach in his chest plate. Rodrigo rolls back on his feet and readies his guard. Frustrated, the beast bellows another challenge and scrapes the charged power sword off the edge of the choppa resulting in a high-pitched keen. A furious exchange of blows follows as the ork presses its attack. The beast manages to get inside the Space Marine’s guard and executes a deft sword slice through the elbow. Rodrigo gasps. His right arm nearly severed at the elbow, Rodrigo locks the ork’s sword arm with his left arm and jams the roaring chainsword into the neck of the ork. Cries become gurgles and the monster drops to its knees. Rodrigo curses himself for not shooting the ork with his bolter.

The Test Brief Part 2

“Let’s go over it again,” Sergeant Cerros casually waves. He sits on a stone slab behind the gathering of the Scouts.
Nesmith, a team leader, enthusiastically reiterates the plan by rote.
“Well briefed, Nesmith,” Cerros walks around the circle and points to a Scout holding a sniper rifle. “Mattias dies during insertion. Who is now your sharpshooter to cover the advance of ‘B’ team?”
“I’m the next best shot, sergeant,” Julian announces, “I can cover.”
“Of course you can, Julian. But, what is your designated role in the plan?” Cerros feigns concern.
“Sergeant, I am signaler to ’B’ team. When the enemy is at the target point, I am to flash my laser designator three times,” the scout says.
Nesmith interjects, “I will take over the signaler role.”
Cerros looks disappointed, “Nes, you’re team leader. You cannot have too many duties.” The Scout looks down in shame. The sergeant takes Nesmith’s reaction to deliver the final lesson.
“You all know the plan. This one has holes. It requires every scout to have a particular duty. I have, perhaps, designed it to have such flaws.”
The Scout squad looks puzzled. The sergeant continues, “The final lesson should be clear. You will execute this according to your own abilities and gifts. I guarantee this mission’s execution will not follow my plan.”
The sergeant made eye contact with every scout and smiled wryly, “you are Ultramarines and you will find a way to succeed. Now, mount up.”

Man, I'm bored of waiting for GW, so let's keep busy, eh? I'll try to be brief and stick to general ideas.

 themonk wrote:
The Test Brief Part 1

Rodrigo wants to put a bolt round in the ork’s head and it could be an easy kill. But, close combat it is. The Imperial Fist calmly... [snip] ...monster drops to its knees. Rodrigo curses himself for not shooting the ork with his bolter.

Besides the tense issue, there's still a pacing problem. There are two issues working in conjunction to make the action feel monotonous. First, the sentences are too long and descriptive which makes reading it, and thus imaging the action, slower. Secondly, the entire sequence is one paragraph so the fight has no movement, no ebb and flow. All this means the fight seems slow, and the characters don't really feel like they're hurting each other until suddenly Rodrigo loses an arm. There's no build up to this moment so it doesn't have an impact. Finally. the last line defeats the entire sequence: why didn't he just shoot the ork? There's a lack of context to the fight, and the fight itself isn't a conflict. Why is this a struggle for the Space Marine?

The Test Brief Part 2

“Let’s go over it again,” Sergeant Cerros casually waves.... [snip] ...you will find a way to succeed. Now, mount up.”

The lack of context is even more pronounced here. I don't know what anyone's talking about, so I don't know what's at stake. Again, the sequence defeats itself when the Sergeant declares he made the plan to fail on purpose. It makes the Scouts look dumb for not noticing the plan is flawed and it makes the Sergeant look dumb for making a flawed plan. There isn't a conflict because the Scouts purposefully put themselves into this situation.

The two important things you need to ask yourself are: what is the context and what is the conflict. These need to be clearly evident, but your mind will fill in gaps for you. Only another person can see if there are holes in your writing.

Matthew wrote:I LOVE that text! But no story though.

Alas, GW are dragging their feet getting the responses out (if we ever get one that is.....)

themonk wrote:Here are my rejected briefs.....

Thanks for posting, very interesting read! I like the idea of going present tense but probably too risky for GW. Keep it up though, would like to see it developed more beyond the 250 word limit (which I think hurts the first person perspective approach even more)

DarkHound wrote:Man, I'm bored of waiting for GW

Oh man, tell me about it. I am starting to wonder whether they got so many submissions that they decided to just try and stitch them together a la 'exquisite cadaver' and save money on commissions.

The two important things you need to ask yourself are: what is the context and what is the conflict. These need to be clearly evident, but your mind will fill in gaps for you. Only another person can see if there are holes in your writing.

Yup, great comments all round, but this last one was particularly relevant for me - it wasn't until the wife proof read it that I realised I had fallen into the same trap of not being explicit enough, but again the tight word limit doesn't help matters.

I'm bored of waiting for a reply from GW now, so here are my submissions.

Brief 1:

I saw the Sergeant get ambushed at the cliffs edge, all I could do was watch. Victrix stood in full Vanguard regalia of the Ultramarines. He loosened his joints under the weight of his chainsword and combat shield and stood up to the giant Deathskull with his back to the wind.

The beast's power klaw shone in the light. Striking low, he swiped at the Sergeant's legs. One sure strike would send him to oblivion. But Victrix was quicker than that, and quickly pushed back, forcing the Orks attention higher with thrusts of his chainsword.

The Deathskull dodged. Bobbing up and down. Thrust. Parry. Thrust. Parry. They moved at lightning speed. The power klaw clicked into activation as Victrix raised his weapon to capitalise on a slight misstep. He brought it down. The engine struggled. Crunch. Crack. His chainsword was broken in half.

Blue paint cracked a yellow grin as the Ork realised. He pushed his advantage but found the Sergeant unrelenting. Dug in on one knee behind his shield, weaponising it's leading edge and driving it into the Deathskulls jaw with each clumsy miss of the klaw. The xenos' aggression had cost him, as Victrix wore the Ork to its knees with great skill. Rising and driving the blunt face into it's head.

He rose up tall for a final, hateful blow, but his light suddenly faded. I screamed for vengeance as the great teacher was impaled, raised into the air and dumped into the wastes below.

Brief 2:

Sergeant Victrix gathered his recruits for briefing. If they returned they would be a step closer to becoming fully fledged Space Marines. He couldn't help but be disappointed that they would be going alone against such odds.

“A Waaagh is in danger of starting in The Eastern Fringe. A Warboss is rallying millions to his banner. You need to stop those Orks uniting by whatever means necessary. We cannot afford a second front on The Eastern Fringe. It's up to you to find this scum and eliminate the need for one before it begins.” Victrix was always blunt with them, but as he looked them over, he was proud. He saw the Chapter's future, past and a little of his own legacy, in these men and he swore to the Emperor that he would honour them.

“This will be the last time we speak on these terms. When you return, you will have earned your Black Carapace and become my brothers. Brothers of the Ultramarines. Truthfully, only the best of us could return.”

The Scouts listened keenly to their tutor. They didn't know what Victrix knew. Waaagh Gulrik was well under way, and Victrix was to fight in the Vanguard to defend Iax. The Ultramarines were stretched, but their Sergeant believed in them.

“I will not be going with you, but you walk in the light of The Emperor and The Primarch Guilliman, like us all. Remember your training. Make them proud” He said.

“Good luck.”

 Davylove21 wrote:
Brief 1:
I saw the Sergeant get ambushed at the cliffs edge, all I could do was watch. Victrix stood in full Vanguard regalia of the Ultramarines...

This is competent, but there are a couple issues. Let's start with the good. You do a good job of varying your sentence lengths. You open with context for the conflict. I'd rather it be explicit than implied that this ork is the one who killed his sergeant. That's the first bit of bad: I can't tell what your last sentence means. Was his sergeant already dead, was he only just now killed in another duel? Because you don't mention it at all during the fight, there isn't a sense of urgency for the sergeant and Victrix comes off lacking a personality. There's the barest implication that he felt powerless, but you miss the opportunity for him to grow as a character by regaining his agency in fighting his ork. (As an aside, the jump from first to third person is extremely jarring.)

The other problem is some crucial points are told instead of shown.

1. The power klaw clicked into activation as Victrix raised his weapon to capitalise on a slight misstep. (what was the misstep?) He brought it down... (who brought what down?) 2. ...The xenos' aggression had cost him, as Victrix wore the Ork to its knees with great skill. (how?)

The small exchanges are not very important, and so you use tiny sentences and abstraction there. These are critical points in the fight and should be very visceral. I want to see how and why the winner of the fight is decided.

Only now do I realize you meant the first person to refer to another individual observing the fight. That requires a whole new layer of context and characterization that you don't have room for. Then, at the end, I think you mean that Victrix is killed out of nowhere? This brief would be much stronger without those two sentences.

Brief 2:
Sergeant Victrix gathered his recruits for briefing...

This brief would be fine in a novel, but the context and conflict rely too heavily on the first brief. If you change the sergeant's name, then what is the conflict? There are a couple opportunities, including why the scouts aren't fully briefed. It's well written, but there it doesn't seem to have a point.

I've got to give the same advice: these bits of miscommunication are really obvious when you get someone else to read your work. Always have a test reader, even if it's embarrassing at first.

I did find it tough to fit the fight sequence into such a low word count and certainly the ending is not ideal. Trying to put the fight somewhere that isn't benign and squeezing in an arbitrary mention of their affiliations is what pushed me toward an observed fight, which brought its own problems.

Flash fiction is a weakness of mine, which is probably why (along with the 'keep it open' guideline) I decided to link both briefs together. I'm tempted pop them into a short story about Victrix training the first members of a new Chapter and giving him the death he deserves

Thanks for the feedback!

Well, we're passed the deadline. Might as well be fair and post my stuff.

Part 1
Another shell exploded above and rattled the tunnel as a child cried out in terror. An elderly man hushed the boy. Ahead, the towering Space Marine’s raised arm halted the dozen refugees.
“Lord Corval?” the old man whispered.
The Raven Guard turned and watched the darkness behind them. “I’m afraid we must part. Do as we discussed. Be brave. The Emperor protects.”
Terrified, the man did as commanded and hurried the civilians onward.
Sergeant Corval ignited his power sword as the ork crept from the shadows. He recognized the kommando’s dark camouflage and paired axes.
“I’ll eat yer kin for all the trouble you’ve made!”
The ork rushed low. Corval’s sword shot across the ork’s back. Its axe crashed into Corval’s knee. He twisted his colossal frame and drove the broken knee into the brute’s face.
The ork slunk back; its jaw hung limp. Corval felt his broken bones grind under their weight. He needed to buy more time.
The ork charged again. Corval’s sword tore through one axe. The second caught his exposed wrist. Both fighters tumbled to the ground. Corval grabbed hold of the remaining axe. He brought his sword hand to the ork’s head, only to find he had no sword and no hand.
He roared with rage, shoved the ork off, and wrenched the axe free. One clean stroke decapitated the beast. Blood’s bitter scent filled the tunnel.
His rage subsided, Corval collected his sword and limped after the refugees. A hand was worth their safety.

Part 2
The squad assembled outside the small mountain-top outpost. Sergeant Securis had ordered standard equipment: carapace armor, camo cloaks, longrifles, and rations of triglyceride gel. A normal human couldn’t breath the air or survive the cold at this altitude, yet it had no effect on Caestus. He was proud of every moment here; each was a testament to his effort during initiation.
“Scouts!” the Sergeant began, “Today you will begin your first mission as Ultramarines. Our objective is to range and secure this sector of Macragge. In two weeks we will set camp to sleep. Then we will sweep back to this post for extraction. With any luck, our opposition will be the remnants of Behemoth.”
Caestus tensed at the name. The Battle for Macragge was won thirty years ago, before any of the Scouts were born, but every child of Ultramar was raised in the shadow of its devastation. Every citizen lost family in that war.
“This is not an exercise in pathfinding, or a test of your augmentation. I am not here to assess you. The Tyranids took from us so many heroes, and still they haunt our home, burrowed and hiding. Everyone, including our youngest members, share the task of rooting them out. You few have risen to this challenge in our Chapter’s darkest hour.
Even in defeat, this foe terrifies our people. It is our duty to restore peace to Ultramar and guard it from terror. And in this, we will not fail! Scouts! Move out!”

Wow. GW's loss if you didn't get selected, DarkHound. That's some great stuff right there. Yours and the others make mine seem a little poor by comparison.

I'm new to 40k so didn't even expect to be sent the test questions tbh.

Mine:

Part 1

The Ork surged forward, its axe raised. Kruger struck out with his knife, serpent-swift. To his surprise, the greenskin parried. Steel sparked where the blades met. Kruger ducked beneath an axe swing and caught the Ork squarely in the ribs, but the hulking creature just laughed. It kicked out, launching him several metres back across the tarmac.
The beast advanced, raising its axe for a killing blow. Kruger leapt at him, his adrenaline building, his killer instinct telling him to get in close. The Ork loosed a terrible roar as the Blood Angel slammed into him, unwilling or unable to contemplate defeat. It unleashed a flurry of strikes, but all of them either missed or glanced off the Astartes’ formidable power armour.
Kruger snarled and yanked himself free from the Ork’s grip, but not before he’d buried his combat knife deep in the beast’s right shoulder. He drew his pistol, only for the Ork to bat it aside with a swing from its axe. Kruger put all of his strength behind a savage uppercut, staggering the creature. Again the axe descended and again Kruger slipped the blow.
Bloodied, the Ork pulled Kruger’s knife from the muscles and sinews of its shoulder. Now the greenskin had two weapons. Fangs bared, it came forward once more, but Kruger had already retrieved his pistol.
Man and beast exchanged the briefest of looks. Neither showed any signs of fear. The Ork charged, its beady black eyes devoid of all emotion. Kruger squeezed the trigger.

Part 2

Marcellus looked disappointed.
“I was led to believe this would be a combat mission, Brother-Sergeant.”
“The nature of the mission is unimportant, initiate. Combat or recon, you will do your duty to the Chapter and Emperor.”
The other neophytes murmured in agreement.
“You are Ultramarines,” Brother-Sergeant Septimius continued, “not brash, naive pups. Orbital scans show xenos activity in the jungles around hive Karos. We are to deploy and investigate. Report enemy troop movements and numbers.”
“And if we make contact?” Marcellus pressed.
“Then we fall back to drop zone Primus and await extraction.”
Marcellus snarled, curling a lip to show some teeth. Septimius observed his reaction but said nothing. He knew that when the time came, his initiates would follow their orders to the letter.
Karos had been lost three weeks ago, but the Ultramarines weren’t here on Gehenna as liberators. They were here to burn the heart out of this Ork incursion before it threatened Macragge.
“The Angels of Death should stand toe-to-toe with their enemies,” Marcellus declared. “Not skulk in the shadows.”
“The Codex Astartes calls for a cautionary approach, Marcellus. Do you question your Primarch’s judgement?”
“No, Brother-Sergeant.”
“This is your first deployment,” said Septimius. “Consider it an honour. Prepare for war, but don’t go looking for glory. There isn’t any to be found here or on any other battlefield. Should you die an unknown, then rejoice. Lesser the number of men to mourn you when they could be fighting for their Emperor.”

Thanks, Darkhound and Iapedus for the comments and criticism.

Context seemed really important when wrote the briefs. I didn't try to establish it here. In my inexperience, I felt like I couldn't really establish context with 250 words. I tried to go on the stength of dialogue. After reading the briefs here I see where I went wrong.

The Test Brief Part 1 -
Sergeant Markus was now alone, hunting the mangrove swamp for Orks of the Deathskulls tribe. “Emperor be with me,” the Marine murmured. Markus felt a presence in the sweaty air around him, his hair stood on end. The mighty, armored Ultramarine paused, using his humming chainsword to prod a totem, hung from a nearby banyan tree; a blue skull, the heretical sigil of the Deathskulls. The sergeant sighed. ‘That foul odor, it’s not the swamp,’ he thought. Markus turned sharply, swinging his shrieking chainsword to catch the blade of an Ork’s handaxe. On contact, broken adamantium teeth spat from the sword, splashing into the bubbling water below. Senses heightened, Markus spotted the greenskin’s massive pistol and grabbed for it. The Spacemarine plunged his chainsword through the totem and into the tree from which it hung, allowing him both hands to wrestle the pistol from the savage Xeno. The Ork’s pistol splashed into the water at last, coating Markus’ ceramite power armor with mud.
Having lost it’s sidearm, the greenskin reared up, ready to chop at Marcus’ midsection, “WAAAGH!” The Sergeant barreled into the Ork’s arm holding it to his chest, limiting the beast’s ability to swing and drawing his own bolt pistol. Markus fired into the Xeno’s blue-painted gut, the boltgun tearing it to bloody shreds. As the Ork hobbled over, crouched in the mud, Markus pulled his chainsword from the tree and with a flourish plunged it into the waiting Ork.

The Test Brief Part 2 -
The Thunderhawk’s engines screamed as the massive transport rocketed into atmosphere. Mounted in the belly of the mighty Thunderhawk were two Rhinos emblazoned with the cerulean livery of the Ultramarines. “Third squadron!” yelled Sergeant Arrvo, bellowing over the ‘Hawk’s thunderous turbines, “You Marines have earned your place amongst the Ultramarines’ Tenth Company. For years, most of your lives, you’ve awaited this day, you’ve awaited combat against the enemies of our holy Imperium!” Several of the Scout Marines in third squad shifted nervously in their harnesses. Sergeant Arrvo was infamous across the Neophytes of Ultramar, he was a taskmaster. The scouts knew that as skilled as Arrvo was, he would push his squad well beyond their breaking point. “Today, first and third squadron will strike the enemy ahead of the remaining Ultramarine formation! As you know, Orks are spreading their heresy across the northernmost continent of Narracas IV. This is our chance to break the spearhead of the Xeno menace and end this Waaagh! of theirs. Are you prepared, Marines?”
“With Courage and Honour, We March for Macragge!” the scouts cheered at once, years of training and a violent fervor purging their veins of any nervousness. Third squad was, at last, ready to serve their only purpose, ready for war. The Marines went over their weapons once more, cleaning, carving prayers onto Bolter shells. Outside the Rhino, the clamoring sounds of the Ork Waaagh! grew nearer.

As with most things, I only ever completed the first test brief before other things (primarily work and study) pulled me away. I never got around to presenting this to BL, but thought folks might enjoy the read anyway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The bird looks on, its animal eyes drinking in the scene.

It perches upon a ragged tree in an unnamed dustbowl on a world forgotten by most.

Below it a cloud of dust rages around moving figures, violent movement and scuffing feet creating dents in the otherwise featureless desert.

The largest of the pair is a beast, monstrous green arms seeking a grip upon a smaller foe. Great paws grip and slam and tear, frustrated shrieks and spittle leaving its mouth in fury.

The slighter is a giant also, dull grey armour and animal pelts exaggerating its form. Its weapons have been discarded long ago as useless.

Back and forth they go, blood dripping and bones snapping under the ceaseless assault. Green fists hammer down like comets, cracking armour and skin.

The armoured giant blocks, arms straining under the force of the blows. To one knee he goes, then two, gritting teeth in effort. This can only end one way.

Green claws come down again and again, knocking away arms and pummelling face. Gore blossoms from a broken nose and teeth crack as punishment finds its mark. With a grunt the beast grips the head of his enemy and pulls. Tearing meat and bone resonates across the empty expanse.

The dust dies down, the only sound the monster’s ragged breathing, before it too falls to its knees. It slumps beside its slain foe.

Nothing stirs.

The bird looks on, before screeching in hunger as it descends to feast.

Great to see a flood of posts - even if it is with the bitter taste of (assumed) rejection . I will get around to commenting just as soon as work abates, but in the meantime here are my briefs too;

Assignment 1:

The Warboss turned.

Vamtice gunned his jump pack, slamming into the immense bulk of the Ork and taking him clean off his feet. They smashed through the wall of the derelict Sanctum, Deathskull and Raven Guard as one, raining debris into the midnight air.

The ruin trembled under the impact. The blades, long and sharp, punched through the patchwork armour and grizzly trophies hanging around the Ork’s neck, plunging deep into the unresisting flesh and bone underneath.

The Captain looked up. Thick, viscous drool slowly issued between his adversary’s tusk-like teeth, glistening in the moonlight that streamed through the shattered roof. Flecks of blood slowly turning to smears, the saliva oozed onto the Vamtice’s breastplate, marring the polished sliver Aquila below.

The lightning claw crackled with energy, globules of its victim’s blood fizzing as it trickled down the blades. In the darkness, the distant thunder of battle raged.

A cough, or perhaps a laugh, broke the muffled silence. Vamtice met his enemy’s gaze. Slowly, through blood stained teeth, the Warboss’s grimace turn to a vile grin. The soft clink of metal on stone made the captain look down, just in time to see the small steel pin bouncing off the shattered rubble. In its hand, the greenskin held a rough cylinder of metal plates and spikes, unmistakably a looted imperial grenade.

Vamtice tried to jerk free, but with its last strength the Ork embraced the Captain for death, the laugh now unmistakable on its dying breath.
The world turned white.

Assignment 2:

‘You will all die this day!’

Daito struggled to be heard above the din of the Thunderhawk’s engines. The red clouds of dawn boiled past the viewports, hiding from view the beleaguered expanse of Far Hope’s cities below.

‘Of that, you can be sure!’

Thirty faces sat staring impassively ahead, the ruddy red lights of the compartment casting deep shadows. Their cropped dark hair and steel grey eyes the legacy of the Chapter, their armour’s simple heraldry the mark of the Ultramarines 10th company.

‘But tomorrow… tomorrow, you will be reborn!’

The Sergeant strode between the two rows of scouts, casting his gaze at each face in turn, waiting for his words to sink in. Not one man flinched.
‘Whether as an equal to your brother Astartes, or whether to find yourself bathing in infinite glory at the Emperor’s side – that – is up to you!’

The lights abruptly flicked to green, casting a sickly hue across the faces of the initiates. The whine of the aircraft’s engines reached their crescendo, and with a shuddering impact the vessel came to a halt on the surface. Daito, unfurling his bolter, reached up and hit the pulsing release rune.
‘This is the moment! This is the time to claim your prize!

He turned to take one last look at his charges. They stood ready, implacable determination wrought on their faces, weapons in hand. The ramp gave a metallic groan, and sunlight erupted into the cabin.

‘Come, Sons of Guilliman! For the Emperor!’

Here are mine:

Test Piece #1

The lack of sulfur was what surprised Lieutenant Grondall. He had always assumed that Hell would smell like sulfur, not burning rubber and spent bolter casings. His memory played images of a struggle, the taste of blood, and an apocalyptic explosion, then a lot of pain as he and some creature tumbled into darkness. The creature had worn a strange symbol: black sunbeams radiating out from a horrible red face.

A sudden eruption of debris broke the lieutenant out of his reflections. A thing emerged from the detritus with eyes that reflected its own brutish bloodlust and arms that were already moving in savage chopping motions as it advanced on the astartes. Grondall blocked the first blow with his combat knife. In a quick turn, the Ultramarine used his foe’s own momentum to throw the thuggish creature through the air and into a pile of discarded metal that tore at the xenos’s skin. Bellowing with rage the ork once again lunged at Grondall, both arms extended. Catching one arm with his knife, he used his free hand to catch the creature by its throat, allowing his armor to absorb the off-hand blow. Flinching as a sharp pain took him in his side, the lieutenant began to squeeze, willing the pistons in his armored gauntlet to apply ever increasing pressure. With a sharp twist there was a resounding crack and the thrashing ork grew very still. Dropping the fresh corpse, Grondall staggered away, thanking the Emperor for preserving him.



Test Piece #2

The sound of the engines roaring made it almost impossible to think. Sergeant Balor looked out of the open doors of the Thunderhawk at the raging battle down below. Orange blossoms and strange green lights lit the killing fields below in moribund hues of devastation. Balor looked back over his scouts that were accompanying him on their first mission, each of them shifting eagerly in bloody anticipation, while some rubbed the beloved “U” iconography on their armor in a reverential manner. Balor spoke over their vox link to cut over the deafening roar of their transport.

“Today, you recruits will cease to be recruits,” the scouts snapped to attention at Balor’s words“, today, you all become true Ultramarines! The years of sweat and blood that you have poured into your training will be given testimony in the fires of today’s battle. The malignant Necrons have dared to challenge the Emperor’s finest, and we will be the hammer that sends them back into the abyss for having even thought themselves equal to us!” At this the scouts cheered and Balor smiled despite himself until his eyes landed on Jethan, the youngest recruit. Balor had trained enough marines to recognize the unlucky ones. Even though each of these scouts was worthy of the armor they bore, Balor always had a sixth sense about those that were marked for ignominy. There were times when he hated this ability.

“Remember marines,” Balor’s voice was taut, “only in death does duty end.”

Here are mine. I'm severely disappointed GW didn't give the last of us a proper rejection. Just silence.

Please, feel free to critique. I had the space marine brief as outlined above.

Brief 1

Sebastian saw Amatus falling to his knees as he ascended the last of the Adminstratum’s marble stairs. An immense Ork, clad in tattered black armor, towered over him. Amatus’s front armor was sundered; the Ultramarines seal broken with a rusted and blood soaked mace lodged firm. In a mere moment, Sebastian could recall the centuries spent with his friend, the countless campaigns the two had fought at each other’s side. He remembered the moment he called Amatus brother.

Sebastian bounded forward to gain the initiative; his fury leveled at the immense Ork towering before him. The giant dislodged his jagged mace with a swift action, sending Amatus sinking to the ground. The Ork’s lips curled to an ugly sneer that reveled at the destruction wrought by his hands. He now thirsted for Sebastian’s life.

Sebastian opened fire with his bolt pistol. The Ork moved fast foretelling the Marines attack, only getting grazed on the shoulder. Sebastian closed the distance and activated his chainsword, stabbing towards the exposed part of the creature’s body. The brute backhanded the sword before it made contact, knocking Sebastian down.

The Astarte barely had time to recover before he saw the mace coming straight down on his head. He rolled, the mace skimmed across his helmet, slamming into the floor. Sebastian seized the opportunity and plunged the chainsword straight up into the Ork, driving it as far as the teeth would tear. Holding firm, he pulled the chainsword down, cleaving clean through the Ork’s body.

Brief 2

Scout Sergeant Gallus stood in front of Caius and his assembled scout squad. They were lined in front of the Thunderhawk Gallus had taken from the surface of the contested planet below.

Caius starred at the blood stained Ultramarines seal on Gallus’ shoulder pad.

Gallus started, “Sergeant Horatio and I are the last two survivors. He is in critical condition. With the main force engaged on the northern fringes, you twelve and I are the only units available to hold the landing zone from a large Tau force gathering to the west.”

Caius locked eyes with the Sergeant for only a moment. Caius’s apprehension was clear. Gallus knew. He could see it on all of them. “I know this will be your first time out. You were here to polish rifles and train in exercises. However, we’ve been tasked to hold until relief arrives.”

Gallus sighed. He looked up to the young scouts, each still unsure. He organized his thoughts.

“You may not be full-fledged marines, but you are worthy. You were chosen not just because of your physical or mental strength, but also because of the strength of your hearts. We are Astartes. we are the bulwarks of humanity. We are the example to the rest of mankind. Who will stand against those who defy our claim to this universe?”

Caius and his fellow scouts stepped forward and came to attention. He examined the blood and saw the dark shade of blue tau blood spattered amongst the red.

Woah. It's awesome to see so many takes on the same theme.

Perhaps some time a similar "contest" on Dakka could be a go-er? Writing rather than painting or tourney?

Some very cool pieces here. I wasn't going to share mine, but I feel inspired now!

Test brief 1

The gigantic chain-axe was coming for his head much harder and faster than expected. With reactions gleaned only from experience, Dragut hastily put up a defence with the ornate power sword clenched sturdily in his gauntlet. The blade was brushed aside like an unwanted play-thing, and the Company Champion was barely able to swing his combat shield round in time to intercept the follow-up blow from the crudely spiked counter-weight. The looming Ork continued his relentless assault and Dragut soon regretted telling his fellow Imperial Fists to "Leave this one to me." The Space Marine was able to dodge back out of the way as the vicious teeth screeched past his helm once again. Seemingly giving up with the idea of a weapon, the Ork lurched forward and slammed a massive, reinforced skull into the Champion's face-plate. Ceramite, or bone, cracked with the force and Dragut felt the sword fall from his fingers. As the vile Greenskin lined up for the executioner's blow, his duel-master's comment flitted across the Astartes' mind: "The dirtier you fight, Brother, the cleaner the outcome." Without a second thought Dragut dived beneath the mighty axe and slammed the sharpened edge of his shield into the green foot beside him. The Ork doubled over and screeched in pain. His misery was ended by a Power Armoured punch that nearly took his head off.

Test brief 2

The heavy footfalls echoed around the vaulted loading bay, reverberating from the gilded girders.
"Are we ready for the drop, Brothers?" came the sonorous voice of the grizzled sergeant.
"Aye Sir, all equipment thrice checked." The response was as expected.
"Good," replied Dandalo, gathering his new scout squad about him, scrutinising each.
"I can see it in your eyes now." The silence was broken. "The deep desire to prove yourselves through blood. It is imperative that we remember who we are. We are the Ultramarines. The Sons of Guilliman himself. It is our honour to bear his sigil into battle. Our honour to wield Boltguns and wear armour that were crafted in his forges, and to march beneath the banners that were blessed in his name. Do not forget this honour bestowed upon you. Yet when the massacre you seek does come, remember this: do not cease when all seems lost. When the foul Xenos appears in your midst and tears your Brothers asunder, cease not. When the Heretic comes for you with curses on his lips and a glint in his eye, cease not. When the nightmares incarnate spew forth from the unrealities of the Warp, cease not. When you are battered, broken and beaten by some unfathomable force, cease not. Only when death himself steps down from his mighty horse may you cease. Only in death does our duty end. Remember this and you shall not dishonour the Primarch."

Here are my pieces, rejected by Games Workshop, any critic is appreciated :-)

Test Brief 1:

---------------
The warning light pulsed on and off every few heartbeats, flooding the chamber in light before snatching it away. Corvon moved in the darkness, the sound of his Scout Armour hidden beneath the thrum of the forgeworld machinery above.

A few paces ahead was the Ork, it stopped and snarled as if it sensed the intrusion.

The light went out. Corvon moved to the right, around a pillar and charged the Ork. Leaping into the air he fired a round with his Bolt Pistol. The shots thudded into the Ork's heavy armour.

The light flashed on.

The Ork wheeled in time to hit the Scout with the back of his power claw sending him sprawling. Corvon scrambled as an explosion of gunfire erupted. Shots pounded into the pillars all around sending dust cascading through the air. Corvon took cover behind a pillar, his ammunition spent, and drew his knife.

The light went out.

Corvon charged low towards the Ork. He found a weak spot in the armour and thrust his blade into it. The Ork grunted in pain before slamming his power claw into Corvon and gripping him round the waist.

The light flashed on.

He saw the Ork snarl as it tightened its grip.

The light went out.

He could feel the hot breath of the Ork on his face as life withered away.

The light flashed on, and in his last moments Corvon smiled, for behind the Ork his brothers in the Raven Guard silently closed in.

(249 words)
---------------

Test Brief 2:

---------------
+++ 2 years before the Battle for Macragge +++

+++ 6 Hours before Sergeant Tericion's Court Martial +++

'The moment I see one of these beasts my Bolter will silence it,' said Recius with a smile.

'-and Guilliman shall not weep nor shall the Bell of Lost Souls toll when we are murdered by the swarms your Bolter round will summon,' said Sergeant Tericion as he arrived.

The squad scrambled and saluted.

'At ease,' he said. 'In 8 hours we fly to Coriux III, our first deployment.'

The squad cheered.

The Sergeant made his way to the surveillance grid and brought up a map of the planet. 'We are to be dropped here.'

'To Septum? The front line has moved far beyond the old capital,' said Recius

'Exactly. We are to gather intelligence first. See here, the old Manufactorum, there is something hidden within. Letalis you are to lead the snipers on top the Administratum.'

'I'll be your eyes above ground, sir.'

'The rest are with me. You are dismissed.'

The Sergeant sat, alone now save for the scribe servitor. He cradled his head in his hands until he felt tears run across his fingers. 'Ah, forgive me for my faith has faltered,' he paused for a long moment. 'It grieves me to send them on their first mission when I know it will also be their last.' He turned to the servitor, 'I have seen this great enemy, a devourer of worlds, of hope... and we are lost.'

The servitor made no reply.

(250 words)
---------------

I think I was trying to be too edgy. They said I could apply with new briefs so I'm going to write two adrenaline filled pedal to the metal pieces with explosions and everything :-p

First of all, thanks to everyone for posting their briefs - I have to say there is some fantastic stuff written here, and if GW really didn't want any of it.....well, their loss I suppose, and it probably explains the current swathe of just plain bad fluff out there. Well done everyone who took part

Buttery Commissar wrote:Perhaps some time a similar "contest" on Dakka could be a go-er? Writing rather than painting or tourney?

Excellent idea - motion seconded and passed!

Bottle wrote:They said I could apply with new briefs so I'm going to write two adrenaline filled pedal to the metal pieces with explosions and everything :-p

Hang on - you got a reply to your submissions? Even if that was just to say try again, I think you are in the minority in getting a reply. Good luck with your second effort!

 Iapedus wrote:
First of all, thanks to everyone for posting their briefs - I have to say there is some fantastic stuff written here, and if GW really didn't want any of it.....well, their loss I suppose, and it probably explains the current swathe of just plain bad fluff out there. Well done everyone who took part

Buttery Commissar wrote:Perhaps some time a similar "contest" on Dakka could be a go-er? Writing rather than painting or tourney?

Excellent idea - motion seconded and passed!

Bottle wrote:They said I could apply with new briefs so I'm going to write two adrenaline filled pedal to the metal pieces with explosions and everything :-p

Hang on - you got a reply to your submissions? Even if that was just to say try again, I think you are in the minority in getting a reply. Good luck with your second effort!

Yes I finally got a reply on Friday, so I think they are coming. They listed which part of the criteria they feel I failed to meet and said I could apply again with completely new stories, so that's what I'm going to do :-)

Subjecting you to my awfulness:
Test Brief 2
"Before the victories. Before the honors. Before the Glory, they were here".
Gallus became aware of fidgeting with his combat knife when Sergeant Aremacus began to speak.
"Lord Commander Calgar was here, untested. So was Galatan and Iviictus. Even Telion was once raw and unproven."
It wasn't that he was scared. A Space marine knew no fear, but he wasn't fully a marine yet. Nor was he unsure; he kept whispering, "My faith is my armor." But he was...anxious.
"A line unbroken from when the Primarch walked amongst us. A line of the greatest warriors taking up arms for the first time."
Aremacus' voice boomed loudly over the comms, clearly heard above the wind whipping past them. It appeared even his hair was unaffected by the bumpy flight of the Land Speeder Storm.
"Yesterday was a dream. Your life before will seem like figments of someone else. For today, you join that line."
The sergeant's eyes moved over them deliberately. His steely visage spoke to Gallus of discipline, and aspiration.
"Sons of Ultramar! Today you wake from that dream and join the ranks of those heroes that came before, taking their own first waking steps."
It took Gallus all of his training to slow his hearts to match the quiet intensity that Aremacus exuded.
"We are here to secure the landing beacon for our approaching brothers. But we also are here to secure your place amongst The Emperor's finest. Come, take your first steps to becoming Ultramarines!"

Test Brief 1
Aremacus wanted to know who in command couldn't out-think an Ork while he ducked a heavy swing of the beast's crude blade. Before the return blow came, the scout sergeant stepped in and cracked his forehead into the squat nose of the savage calling itself Gutsmog. Blood dripped down Aremacus as they both staggered back; whose he wasn't sure. He peeked at his raw squad, pleased to see them giving the Blood Axe Kommandos more than they got. He knew that this must be the Boss who set the ambush at the beacon; while his choppa was dull there was a surprisingly sharp look in his beady eyes. Aremacus raised his bolt pistol, blasting one round before the creature closed the gap. Full speed in just two thunderous steps, the Ork drove his shoulder in the marine's chest. Aremacus had the sensation of flight as he was lifted off his feet by the impact of the monster. Aremacus spun quickly to his left, the huge ork planting his boots in the spot that his head had just occupied. As the Ultramarine drew his feet under himself, he got a taste of filthy leather and his head cracked back when Gutsmog connected with a colossal kick. Scrabbling back, his hands fell onto something wet. There Gallus lay gurgling blood, still clutching his combat knife. The Boss leapt to finish the prone sergeant, only to find the scout's knife plunged under his chin. Aremacus rose to rally his squad against the remainders.

There are some competent stories here. Makes me fear for my own

If there was one major critique I want to give, it's never write anything in one whopping big paragraph. It's harder to read, slows the reader, and distracts from the content--no matter how good it may be. Personally, if I was the one judging these things, I'd straight reject anything formatted like that.

Posted this in the original gw looking for freelance writers thread, but thought I'd post it here as well.

Got my rejection back on 5/27/2015, submitted on 3/20/2015.

Submitted around March 20th, just got a rejection back today.

Both briefs failed on identical points:

Make it epic (Failed)
Battles (Failed)
Grab Attention (Failed)
Plot and Pacing (Met)
Characters (Failed)
Write about the miniatures (Failed)
...and the world they inhabit (Failed)
Be Original (Failed)
Leave the Door Open (Failed)
Make it Fantastical (Failed)


Test Brief Part 1

There is nothing but the sacred roar of the bolter. Nothing but memory etched in muscle by a hundred years of discipline and rote repetition. The steps of the grand presidium and the streets before it were awash with the blood of filthy xenos. Their corpses were piled three high in places, a tide of orks halted by the withering fire of Septimus and his brothers of the Ultramarines 10th company.

Static on vox: Report.

“Objective sec—”

At the far end of the street greenskins regrouped beneath the yellow and black banner of the Bad Moons. From their midst emerged a massive ork wielding a force stave and wrapped in animal skins. A coppery stench filled the air. Auto-senses rebelled at the intrusion of the warp.

“PSYKER!” Brother Malicus bellowed.

Arcs of crackling white-green warp energy erupted in the air around them. Hot as plasma and twice as volatile. It ripped through power armour and found its way to flesh and bone. Malicus did not scream as his organs boiled and his armour became a molten tomb.

The blast threw Septimus forward, down the stairs and into the street. He lost his bolter, but was already in motion as he landed, bounding down the avenue with combat knife drawn. He crashed against the massed xeno mob. Bones snapped and broke at the impact. Orks moved to protect the psyker, but the Ultramarine pushed through, toward the true threat. Knife found skull and was rewarded.

The Emperor would be pleased.

Test Brief Part 2

Aboard the strike ship Sinum Victorum, Brother-Sergeant Juris Vex addressed the neophytes of the Ultramarines 10th company. His face was a crucible of nightmares, a conflagration of scars earned on alien planets across a lifetime of war. The neophytes revered him as sacred. One day they hoped to call him brother. For now, he was as a father.

A holo of the mission site crackled to life. Byzantine geometry. An industrial hive, home to thirty million human souls.

“We have intel that orks are using the sewers beneath Itraxa to outmaneuver the local militia. Due to their failure to adapt, much of the hive has fallen. This problem is ours to solve.”

“Our forces have collapsed the tunnels here,” he referenced the holo, “and here. Neophyte Trevian, tell me why.”

Trevian did not hesitate, “A bottleneck, Sir.”

“Correct. We will deploy behind enemy lines and infiltrate that bottleneck. Once we secure the objective, we will plant charges and hold. When the orks have massed in strength to dislodge us, we will detonate our explosives, ensuring grievous casualties. Mission complete, we will rendezvous with Squad Fortus in the plaza above to assist with evacuation of refugees sheltered there.”

Juris paused.

“Today, you will prove yourself worthy of the investment our glorious chapter makes in you. Today, you will prove yourself worthy of the gene-seed you carry inside you. You are trained. You are prepared. Today, your glories are the Emperor’s glories. Today, His eyes are upon you. You will not fail.”

Behold my failures!

Test 1

The chainsword whirred. Metal clashed with metal. The weapon's teeth, ever sharp and always ready, ground against the greenskin's rudimentary blade. Captain Vernak grit his teeth. His arms tensed with every fibre of muscle, summoned to push back against the alien.

The Ork growled, and pushed Vernak back, attempting to force him off balance. The alien raised its weapon and swung again, hoping to capitalise on the brother-captain's compromised footing.

It found no such weakness.

The captain sidestepped the swing and the Ork's heavy blade plunged downward. The alien, hulking as it was, lacked even the pretence of finesse. Its entire being lumbered forward, its blade now firmly embedded in to the ground.

The Salamander fired his bolt pistol. Three mass-reactive rounds aimed squarely at the beast's chest. It moved its shoulder inward, its crude armour—a large moon printed upon it—positioned to protect its chest. It proved to be folly. The shots found their mark, impacting in to the Ork's upper arm. Putrid, green flesh flashed by the captain, a catastrophic explosion which tore the beast's arm asunder.

And yet the Ork still stood. This one, it seemed, would not be slain so easily. The xenos grunted, seemingly scarcely even registering the loss of its limb. The captain fired again, four more shots, this time to the skull. Not even an Ork could weather that storm. Maratus looked up, and clenched his jaw. Where one greenskin falls, ten more always rise, he mused.

This battle was not yet over.

Test one failed on:
Make it epic
Characters
Write about the miniatures...
...and the world they inhabit
Leave the door open
Make it Fantastical

Test 2

The sergeant looked at his men. They were Space Marines elect. Trained, but unproven, they were his to forge in to weapons, to sharpen and toughen. For their part, his initiates all seemed eager to earn their place among the ranks of the Ultramarines, to pass from mere mortal in to legend, an opportunity only offered to the most worthy.

The vox crackled, ''one minute.''

''Men,'' Maratus began, ''we will soon be arriving in to enemy territory. You have your training, you have your wargear, and you have each other. Out here, there is nothing else a Space Marine could ask for beside a weapon in his hand, his training in his mind, and a fellow brother at his side. You carry with you the future of our chapter. Let me tell you, it is not our destiny, not today, to be among the uncountable victims of this accursed, desolate place.

''This planet was once ours. Our chapter surrendered it to xenos once before, but not again, not today. Today we serve as the vanguard of our chapter. We shall find the enemy, that our brothers can unleash their fullest and most holy wrath upon them.''

The ship judded as it landed. The restraints around the sergeant's chest lifted.

''Today we shall suffer the witch no more!''

The ramp of the Thunderhawk hissed and spat. Light crept in to the interior, until the door finally slammed down to the ground. ''For The Emperor, and Ultramar,'' Maratus roared, his chainsword raised.

Test two failed on:
Make it epic
Battles
Grab attention
Characters
Write about the miniatures...
...and the world they inhabit
Be original
Leave the door open
Make it Fantastical

Submitted 30 March, rejected 28 May.

The Test Brief Part 1
As the Bad Moons convoy raced along the defile, Veteran Sergeant Fe’ron triggered the melta bombs. The lead truck exploded as the defile’s walls collapsed, burying the rear trucks. This was one convoy that would not assault the sprawling Maysa spaceport or the millions of evacuees.

Fe’ron launched, leading the assault. “Into the fires of battle!”

“Unto the anvil of war!” His squad completed the Salamanders’ battle cry.

Below, orks piled out of the wrecks. Hearing the roar of jump packs, the greenskins raised their heads and fired wildly. Bolter shells ricocheted off green power armor. Fe’ron cut power to his jump pack. Plummeting, he slammed an ork into the sands. With a bellow, the greenskin slashed at his left greave, the crude cleaver gouged ceramite.

Thumbing the activation rune, Fe’ron hacked down with his ornate chainsword. The revving teeth bit into a gold-plated bracer, then snarled through the underlying leather and flesh.

Roaring, the ork brought up a fat pistol. Fe’ron brought down his plasma pistol, and ignoring the jittering targeting reticule, fired into the ork’s slavering maw. The blinding energy pulse blasted through the back of its throat.

When a status icon on his tactical display flashed red, Fe’ron snapped his head up and saw Battle-brother Ki’tor tossed onto the burning wreck by the huge ork mob leader bulling its way through the fires.

When the greenskin saw Fe’ron, it charged, bellowing, “Waaagh!” Triggering his jump pack, Fe’ron barreled into it, hammering his flame-embossed pauldron into its tusks.

Test Brief 1 did not meet any of the 10 criteria.

The Test Brief Part 2
On the flickering hololith, Espadarosa, capital of Manos-Piedras, burned.

“Long-range augur probes show that the situation has… improved. The loyalists have driven off Governor Ruthven and his heretical forces.” Sergeant Cyprian tapped another rune on the strategium's control panel. The image zoomed out to the whole peninsula.

“Reports from the surface indicate Ruthven fled to his ancestral family estate.” The image scrolled across the ocean, to an archipelago, and then zoomed into to one island and its palatial mountain estate. On one scout, Cyprian regarded the emerging smirk.

“Alexandros, what is warfare to the Great Enemy?”

Beneath his camo-cloak, the scout straightened. “‘All warfare is based on deception,’ Sergeant.”

“Hmph. Reports state Ruthven’s shuttle arrived at the estate. However, no one has actually seen him. Your primary objective is still to confirm Ruthven’s whereabouts.” Cyprian tapped a rune. The image zoomed in onto the estate nestled in a caldera. Structural layouts arranged themselves around the central image. Lastly, a geological survey completed the underground terrain. “Not on these plans are the ferrocrete-reinforced crater walls and anti-air defense emplacements.”

Cyprian turned to another scout frowning at the hololith. “Nicanor, means of infiltration?”

“Lava tubes honeycomb the island. Any of the many openings would provide a means of infiltration and exfiltration, Sergeant.”

For the first time, Cyprian smiled. “For exfil, a Thunderhawk will wait in this sea cave.” He tapped another rune. “These are your primary, secondary, and tertiary routes. Memorize them.”

At briefing’s end, Cyprian watched them file out, grudgingly satisfied.

Test Brief 2 did not meet any of the 10 criteria.

Despite failing to meet any criteria, I am told I could retry.


Feel free to offer critiques should you wish to do so.

Dicrel, I hope you don't mind, but I want to knit pick your work to see why it wouldn't meet the criteria. On the whole, I think the writing is good. I'm just going to do the battle scene for now.

So, there are several phrases that seem wrong: "as the defile’s walls collapsed" (does the mountain path have walls? why not just call it a landslide?), "Fe’ron launched, leading the assault" (we don't know that he's got a jump pack until after this line), and there are many places like "Plummeting, he slammed an ork into the sands" where you use both present and past tense in the same moment. Then there's this snippet "and ignoring the jittering targeting reticule" that doesn't add anything to the story; it has no consequence and implies nothing of the character. This stuff has an impact on pacing too, where "Triggering his jump pack, Fe’ron barreled into it, hammering his flame-embossed pauldron into its tusks" as one sentence is long and stutters, as three sentences it punches quickly. These mistakes take away from the poetry of the work, which is the first criteria.

I really appreciate the mention of the space port, and I think that's a good line, but it isn't mentioned again. It's a missed opportunity to add depth. Next, the convoy is vague so I don't understand the scale of the fight that's going on here. That doesn't retain attention, and takes away from the battle. You don't reference the miniatures to specify if Sergeant Fe'ron leads ten Assault Marines, or half a dozen Vanguard, nor do mention what's in the ork convoy. Related to this, Fe'ron doesn't have an identity. He has no reaction to his squad-mate being (presumably) killed, and he doesn't actually comment on the state of the space port or the battle.

And then the story just ends. The brief specifically said that there must be a winner. Sure he kills an ork, but he does so without effort, which negates the conflict. If the story had been about Ki'tor, it would have had a conflict and conclusion. The story also doesn't quite lead into the larger 40k universe either because the space port isn't used except as a back drop. I'm not saying you have to flesh out every element here, rather pointing out that the story stretches itself too thin to accomplish any particular goal. I think I covered all the writing criteria except 'be original.'

EDIT: After reading through the new rejections, I think the 'failed' criteria just missed very narrowly. I imagine that's why they invited a few of you to try again. If I can make a prediction, I expect my battle to fail on originality, attention, miniatures, and the world they inhabit. I expect the other to fail on originality, attention, battles, make it fantastical, and maybe miniatures.

 DarkHound wrote:
Dicrel, I hope you don't mind, but I want to knit pick your work to see why it wouldn't meet the criteria. On the whole, I think the writing is good. I'm just going to do the battle scene for now.

[snip]

EDIT: After reading through the new rejections, I think the 'failed' criteria just missed very narrowly. I imagine that's why they invited a few of you to try again. If I can make a prediction, I expect my battle to fail on originality, attention, miniatures, and the world they inhabit. I expect the other to fail on originality, attention, battles, make it fantastical, and maybe miniatures.

Thank you for the feedback. Even two months out, I still can't create the distance I need to objectively look over my briefs, so the nitpicking was appreciated. I can see now where I thought I had met criteria, but (from another POV) did not.

I wish you better luck. Here's hoping somebody gets accepted.

Well, I guess I should get back to writing my next set of submissions.

It's only the first part and it's over the 250 mark, plus not submitted to GW. But you can have a read anyway just to past the time.


Ganacus eyed the creature with a deserved contempt as he watched the whore son belched forth from the galaxy's womb hurtle like a jugunaught across the bisecting ground between the two as it raved like a madman and salivated it's war cry with a blood drunk expression burning in it's red glowing eyes. It's maw out stretched and it's bony tusks gleaming in the dull sun as spittle dangled and spat from its sharpened teeth while it hacked its way through the last of the Guard.
With a flash and a grind of metal their weapons met and sparks showered into life from their hidden power as chips and hot metal rained down from above, and they tested one another's strength against their own as they locked eyes amidst the dying struggle of a dead world.
With a clattering scrape the two combatants came apart to trade blows on the other, spinning away from a slash or driving forward into an opening that was quickly closed as their guards were tested, and their attacking prowess found distastefully matched . But the duel could never last between such a two.
With a scything hack the Boy feinted high and then ran his blade along the Blood Angels armour where rich Astartes blood spilled forth onto the gore stained earth, his armour peeling back and folding like paper as he fell to the floor with a bloody slash across his chest. His world blurring, and his failing hearts began a sporadic rthym.

'Your time is over.' Rumbled the Boy, Your race is ended, and now I set you on the path to oblivion.

The Emperor protects. He mumble through blood frothing lips, and the Boy laughed.

Then where is he? looking around dramatically as if looking for someone before his eyes fixed once again on his victim.
No one will save you now, not even your Emperor. You die at my hand all all that shall remain of you is a trinket.

I die well, xenos, he coughed, bring the last of his reserves to the for as he eyed his killer. I die for the Emperor!

Then die, ummie. I shall not mourn. Driving his sparking blade down in a rush through his throat and watched the last glimmer of life die in the Asartes eyes.

I like the story, but it doesn't really focus on a struggle (which isnt a bad thing) and I find the ork's speak too human for it to come from a run of the mill ork.