rolled 43 = 43

Rolling for my own amusement.

>>12508780
Okay, that is fucking weird. That was the first one I noticed when I opened the image, and I was going to make a post asking what it means by "The Longest Day" because it was kind of bugging me.

>>12508800

It means that it's a terrible, fucked-up day. So, for a soldier, it would be getting ambushed and having almost all of your platoon killed. It seems to go on forever, and you just want it to end.

At least, that's my interpretation.

rolled 32 = 32

>>12508800
ask a Vietnam Veteran what 5 days of patrol through the jungle feels like.

then crank that to eleven.

The story of a skavenslave who kills his pawleader and tries to escape. Alternatively, a story about a pawleader trying to deal with incompetent slaves.

rolling, forgot to do so before

rolled 40 = 40

>>12508841
Forgot a space. Damn it.

>>12508834

Hrmmm...could give it a shot, but I'm not too familiar with Skaven, beyond the whole 'chitter chitter DIE MAN-THING' stuff. Been a long time since I was into Warhammer Fantasy, I'm more into 40k nowadays.

>>12508862
Ah, in that case tell the story of a Storm Trooper on an extended behind-the-lines deployment taking on a Plague Marine, only to die of disease a few days later.

>>12508880

Deal. Starting now.

Expect slight delays between each part, I like to make things good rather than fast.

Imperial Psyker being hounded by Karnak and minions of Khorne in general, for attempting to pacify the realm of the Blood God through sheer force of will, and faith in the Emperor.
Whilst he is doing this, he searches for ancient tech on a lost world, up to the point of being named as a heretic.

>>12508935

Fifty-nine days.

That was how long Master Sergeant Davin Rex had been alone for.

Trooper Steele had taken a las-beam to the brainpan sixty days ago, when the cultists had found their temporary base in the basement of a ruined hab-block. It was a shame, he was a good kid, even if he was just a regular meat-shield.

Put bluntly, the situation was FUBAR. The 308th Elysian Airborne had deployed to this planet over a year ago, to counter a huge upsurge of cult activity. The cults sprung from hiding, obliterating the Governor and his entire family, chopping them apart and eating their flesh in front of horrified onlookers. The heresy had spread like wildfire, the cults gaining millions of members daily.

The Sergeant had never been much for piety and worship. Sure, he gave his prayers as much as the next man, God-Emperor be praised, but he didn’t see the point in bothering the Big Man as much as the preachers said they should. I just didn’t seem practical. He had the same sort of viewpoint towards Chaos. He just didn’t see the point in throwing your life away for a little taste of power. The fools that took the easy way were just weaklings. They wanted power? It was right there, if only they had the will to grab it. Why pray to the almighty God-Emperor to give you strength, when he had better things to do? Why spend eternity getting used like a cheap hooker by whatever daemon you decided was ‘nice enough to help’? Fuckin’ weak-willed, weak-bodied sons of bitches. That’s why all those Emperor-bothering bastard had bit the dust months ago, while he persisted.

rolled 94 = 94

rollin'

>>12509027

The Storm Trooper stalked through the sewer tunnels quiet as a ghost despite his carapace armour. He’d trained in it since he was thirteen. He didn’t even notice the forty-odd kilos of armour anymore, not after thirty years of hard fighting and constant training.

Lucretia was slung over his shoulder, silent for now. Although he loved his hellgun, he couldn’t use her right now. The flash and the crack of her kiss would give him away. Instead, he had an autopistol in his hand, a silencer screwed to the end of the barrel. He’d already popped four of the cultists searching for him using it, with the others none the wiser. A feral grin twisted his scarred face as he spotted another victim through his photo-visor. What had possessed them to make them think that coming down here to search for him without any visual gear was a good idea? They could hardly walk, let alone find him. Still, it gave him some time to relax and slash a few throats.

His chin itched, and once again he silently cursed the damn cultists. This entire planet was turning into a filthy cesspit, a huge hive of disease. He was decked out in full bio-protection just to stay alive. Extra seals and protections added to his armour, pumped-up filters on his helmet, the works. Keeping it on near-constantly was starting to get to him, but to take it off in all but a tiny handful of safe spots was to invite instant infection and painful death.

>>12509082

Getting hit now would be a bad idea. He was no stranger to wounds and pain, and to infection, but he knew well enough how nasty things could get when this type of cult took root. The LT had taken a glancing hit to the leg. Even though they applied the sterilizing cream to try and stave off infection, within an hour his leg had fallen off due to gangrene.

The Storm Trooper didn’t feel a twinge of emotion at the thought of the dead Lieutenant. Emotion was for weaklings. They’d beat that out of him at the Schola.

He didn’t feel any emotion either, when he rammed his combat knife into the side of a cultist’s neck and twisted it. Nor did he feel anything when he put a round through a cultist’s eye. It was just what he did. He tore into the group of cultists, done toying. In moments they were all dead, their putrid organs spilling out onto the filthy floor, and Rex was gone.

He wasn’t just randomly killing. He had a mission, and by the Emperor he was going to complete it, whether or not he was the only man left. His squad had been ordered to kill the leader of this uprising, and that was what the Trooper planned to do.

Hrmmmm.

Gotta duck out for a moment, sorry. Have to pick up dinner, and drop some keys in to work. I'll be back in about 20-30 minutes or so, and I'll continue then.

Enjoying it thus far?

>>12509175
Indeed. It's definitely not what I originally had envisioned, but that's a good thing.

>>12509218

Glad you like it! I find that most of the time it isn't exactly what folks were aiming for - if something strikes a chord with me, then that's what's coming out. Anyways, I'm home (with a lovely bowl of hot paella from Nando's), and I'll be continuing.

>>12509142

After another four hours of tunnel crawling, he emerged from manhole in the dead of night. So far as he could tell, this was it. The governor’s palace. The leader had turned it into his own little temple of filth. That’s where he’d be. Lesser soldiers would say it was madness to attempt such a thing. They weren’t Storm Troopers.

His armour was painted black, and he darted through the dark streets towards his target. He had Lucretia shouldered and warmed up now. He needed her firepower for this job. Enough of this sneaking about. He slammed a clenched fist into his chestplate. “Helljumpers!’ he barked out. There were no comrades to return the simple gesture, but it was traditional before a fight.

The lone Storm Trooper sped up, from a walk, to a jog, to a run, to a flat-out sprint, his hellgun pressed to his shoulder. Go time. He was one block away from his objective.

It wasn’t long before the first heretic felt Lucretia’s fiery kiss. His hellgun cracked as it ignited the air, burning straight through the cultist’s head and exploding his skull in a spray of superheated grey matter and bone fragments. The cultist’s comrades didn’t even have time to react before the Sergeant was on them.

He fired a shot that burnt straight through the chest of one and into another, dropping them both. A strike with the stock of his hellgun shattered another’s skull. He spun, jumped, and kicked another with all his might, snapping the heretic’s neck like a twig. It was like being on stims, the adrenalin slowing time to a crawl. This was the way things were done. He was the Emperor’s Fist, crushing all that would oppose the lord of humanity.

>>12509482

The bodies hadn’t even hit the floor before he was moving again, leaving only a frag grenade sailing through a window in his wake. The dull thud of its detonation was followed by screams, as a guard post was obliterated by the hail of hot shrapnel. Speed. Power. Overwhelming force. That was the Storm Trooper way.

He stormed down a ruined street, strewn with the bloated corpses of civilians, PDF, and Imperial Guard alike. His pounding boots pulverised decaying flesh, the soldier refusing to let them slow him down as he forced his way through. Up ahead a group of heretics were scrambling for their weapons, evidently interrupted in the middle of some form of ritual.

Sergeant Rex pulled the pins on two more frags, hurling them into the knot of cultists. The moment they left his hands, he had his hellgun up and firing. A cultist bringing a heavy stubber to bear dropped, almost cut in half by a hail of high-powered shots. The twin detonations wiped out even more of the heretics, and Rex closed to finish the job by hand. He couldn’t afford to waste ammo, not now.

His knife flashed, slicing the throat of one. He bulled into another, smashing the slender, boil-covered man backwards. He shrieked in agony, as he was impaled upon some of the many spikes that heretics just loved to decorate things with. The last one left standing levelled an autogun, and pulled the trigger. The Sergeant was rocked backwards by the hammer blows to his chestplate, the air knocked from his lungs. Twelve shots total smashed into him, before the filthy autogun jammed.

He didn’t let the chance go by. The Trooper ran forward, grabbing the cultist and hurling him directly into the blazing bonfire that they had been chanting around. He shrieked and flailed as he burnt, putrid flesh bubbling from the heat. The Sergeant hurriedly checked his chestplate, but was relieved to find it unbreached by some miracle. He hadn’t seen the autogun. Sloppy.

>>12509560

He made a mental note to perform an extra five hours of hard PT to make up for the slip. It was easy, true, but he couldn’t exactly flog himself. The thoughts were shoved away, as he returned to his mission.

Shouts were coming from his right, down a street perpendicular to his direction of travel. He kicked the dead cultist off of the heavy stubber, then yanked the big machinegun around and chambered a round. As he did, a group of some thirty heretics came storming into view, attracted by the sounds of fighting.

He let them have it, holding the triggers down and sending a hail of hot lead scything through the front ranks. The big bullets tore through the foul creatures like a hot knife through butter, sending severed limbs and gore flying. A few poorly-aimed shots came back at him, but he soon cut the shooters down. The cultists on foot were followed by a light vehicle, a civilian transport with the roof torn off and a stubber bolted on. A hail of shots tore the vehicle to pieces, one lucky shot hitting an ammo crate. The civvy vehicle detonated, chunks of metal peppering the surrounding buildings.

He abandoned the gun. Staying put now was suicide. The gun was too damn heavy to carry with him, so it had to stay. Didn’t mean it had to stay operational. He tossed it into the roaring bonfire, making his escape as the ammo started to cook off, destroying the weapon.

Half a block. What a fuckin’ walk in the park.

>>12509644

He stormed down the next street, blazing away with his hellgun. Heretics were popping up all around, from alleyways, from windows, jumping up from where they were pretending to be dead. Time was slowing down even further for the soldier. It seemed to him like he could almost see individual bullets whipping past, see the lasbeams flying past at a snail’s pace.

He seemed to be utterly untouchable, as he rushed through the hail of ever-increasing fire directed towards him. Whether it was luck, skill, or divine intervention, he only took glancing hits that skimmed right off of his carapace armour without so much as slowing him down.

Ahead, standing in the middle of the road, was a Sentinel walker. The pilot’s body hung half out of the cockpit, maggots boring into the putrescent flesh. Poor bastard had been taken by disease, without time to even get out of his machine.

Sergeant Rex took a running start, leaping up first onto a low-slung civilian vehicle, then hurling himself up onto the walker. A kick sent the corpse of the pilot sprawling, and he slapped the ignition with a frenzied prayer to the Omnissiah. Yeah he didn’t like praying, but this was kind of important.

Gear-head must have been listening, because the engine caught immediately and roared to life. The Sergeant threw the machine into action, the scout walker clanking into life. He immediately pushed it to the limit, the armoured feet flying, his bones shaking with each crashing step. He slewed the turret around, firing the Sentinel’s mounted autocannon at absolutely anything that moved.

>>12509685

Once again, a feral grin twisted his face. Time to crash their little party in the palace.

He smashed the controls forward as hard as he could, jamming the walker into a run, then leapt clear of the machine. The fragile walker smashed into the wall of the palace and detonated, tearing a huge hole for him. He rolled to his feet and leapt through, avoiding a puddle of burning promethium. Nearly done.

He tore through the defiled palace like a whirlwind. The heretics here were even more foul and bloated than the ones outside, reeking heaps of pus and decay. They still died though, when Lucretia gave them a lovely little kiss.

He snatched up a power sword from a dead noble and thumbed the activation stud, and blessedly, the blade hummed immediately with power. Holding his hellgun one-handed, he lashed out with the power sword with his other hand. Severed limbs and lopped-off heads went flying, putrid blood spraying the walls. A lesser man would be exhausted by now. For a Storm Trooper, this was an average day. He kept on snapping off shots with his hellgun, cutting down the mutant freaks by the dozen.

>>12509814

He fought his way deeper and deeper into the palace, until finally, he crashed through the doors to the Governor’s throne room. It was unrecognizable as the ostentatious place he’d seen picts of in the briefing. This was a horrific place of decay and disease. Just being here was making the paint of his armour bubble, making Lucretia’s polished body rust and tarnish.

And there, lounging on the Governor’s throne, was the twisted and bloated monster that had lead this uprising. He was barely recognisable as a man, more a heap of refuse, death, and decay. Only his eyes, close set and pig-like, were still recognizable. He swirled around a glass filled with what looked like liquefied, rotting flesh, letting out burbled laughter. “So, little plaything, you come here to try and kill me? Such a fool! Such a fool for not embracing Father Nurgle!’

He tossed back the glass of foul liquid, swallowing it with obvious relish. “So, what plague would you like? We have ever-so-many to give you!”

Master Sergeant Davin Rex stood silently for a moment as if thinking. “Hm. I’d say...none.” he growled out.

Then he blew the cult leader’s head off with a single shot from his hellgun.

>>12509885

He lowered his humming hellgun, relaxing his stance just a little. “Well...that was surprisingly easy.” He muttered to himself. He was actually disappointed. He’d expected a much more interesting battle than that.

And then the wall moved.

At least, it seemed that way at first. At first it seemed as though a chunk of the wall had detached itself and began to move, until he realised with growing horror what he was looking at. Eight feet tall, clad in once-magnificent armour that was now corroded and split. Putrid flesh that crawled with maggots. A massive bolter clenched in one hand, and an oversized fist wreathed in energy for the other.

A Chaos Space Marine.

For the first time in his long and hard career, he felt fear.

He turned and ran, yanking the pins from four grenades and lobbing them back at the corrupted Space Marine. The detonations didn’t even slow the corrupted monster. It lumbered after him, bolter tracking his movement. Bolt rounds blew holes the size of his head in the wall as he dived out of the door and out of the firing line.

rolled 81 = 81

just to know what i could get.

rolled 73 = 73

>>12509949
okay so i got a big creature. i'm gonna go with giant octopus. a group find a map to lost Atlantis they head out to where it is but is stomped by our so care free giant octopus loving friend. yadda yadda adds another roll to continue the story.

rolled 63 = 63

>>12509961
so they arrive at the entrance of the lost Atlantis but they must duel the guardian who guards the entrance. adds one more rolls for the finish

>>12509966
so they challenge the king, kill him, take over the city, and appoint a new king. take the treasures they give them and leave happy ending.

Eep, gotta take another break, sorry. The end is near!

buuuuump

Sorry for the delays folks. Gimme another 15, and you'll get yer conclusion.

Sort of had a problem to deal with - busted seal on the fishtank = bad.

Where'd you goooooooo?

>>12510335

Right, back and writing again, sorry for the delays.
Glad someone's reading at least!

>>12510345
Already up way too late, might as well stay lol

>>12509926

He ran.

He fired his hellgun wildly, cutting down anyone that got in his way. Cultists were flooding into the palace from all directions now, drawn like moths to the flame. They wanted his head, in revenge for the death of their foul patriarch.

He was fast, but even bloated and decayed the Plague Marine could keep up with him. He could hear its pounding footfalls echoing down the hallways, always just a turn behind. Sometimes it drew close enough to snap off shots at him, the ancient bolts just as potent as the day they were made. The Plague Marine cracked the marble floors with every step, leaving behind a trail of putrescent flesh behind it as pieces of its body fell off.

He could hear shouts and screams and insane laughter, drawing ever-closer. Time was running out. He turned and snapped off the occasional shot at the Chaos Marine, but even Lucretia couldn’t put a hole in that armour. He knew that even getting close to that thing would be death. There was no way his suit would hold up to its aura of decay.

It was gaining on him. He was finally starting to slow, his muscles burning from the running battle. The Plague Marine was utterly tireless. It was the unstoppable march of death, the plague burning its way through a dying man’s veins, the passage of time crumbling the mightiest fortress to dust. Unstoppable. Uncaring.

Death.

>>12510369
don't know if that's the last part or not but too tired to stay up long. Hope it doesn't 404 by the time I wake up. Good story OP

>>12510369

The Sergeant ran up a flight of marble stairs as fast as his burning legs could carry him. It was one of those huge ostentatious affairs, one main stairway splitting off into two sets of stairs going up to each side of the room. Directly ahead, at the top of his staircase, was a huge stained-glass window of the late governor depicted as a saint. Typical arrogance.

He got to the top of the stairs, and made to go left. Blocking his way was a group of cultists, levelling autoguns and flamers. He spun. More cultists at the top of the other stairway. The Plague Marine reached the bottom of the stairs and stood, looking up at him, phlegmatic laughter burbling up from deep in its chest. He was a dead man.

But...they weren’t firing.

Why weren’t the cultists shooting him?

He got his answer a moment later when the Plague Marine raised its ancient, filth-encrusted bolter. He understood. The cultists wanted the honour of killing him to go to their blasphemous role model. The ancient being of filth and ruin aimed up at him carefully, then pulled the trigger.

The bolt clicked on an empty chamber.

The Plague Marine looked down at his weapon, having evidently lost track of ammunition in the chase. It shrugged and dropped the weapon, then started climbing the stairs, its power fist raised.

>>12510393

Not the last part, no, but getting close. Even if it 404s, I'll keep a hold of the story and post it somewhere more permanent, so next time I make a request thread I can just link to my previous works.

Glad you enjoy it bro. I write because I can entertain people, so it means the world to me to have someone actually -reading- my work.

>>12510398

Sergeant Rex looked down at the approaching Marine.

“So...you want to kill me?” he growled out.

The giant nodded.

“I have a question for you.” Rex asked, subtly slipping his hand into a pouch on his combat harness.

The giant marine tilted his head, giving off an air of confusion.

“How do you expect to do that...with a million tons of rubble on your head?” Rex asked him.

Then he hurled himself backwards out of the window, triggering the remote detonator in his hands as he did so.

The charges that he’d spent four hours planting detonated, blowing apart the foundations of the governor’s palace. It had taken Rex three months to salvage enough explosives for the job, and now, with so many cultists swarming here to avenge their leader, he’d managed to catch thousands of them in one strike.

Time slowed to a crawl for the Storm Trooper, as he flung himself backwards through the window. The glass exploded out from the force of his armoured body, his actions too fast for the shocked cultists to react. But not too fast for the corrupted Marine.

In what had to be the fastest movement that the rotting leviathan had made in centuries, it grabbed a blade from its hip and flung it at the Storm Trooper. The blade was fourteen inches of adamantium, corroded almost to the point of breaking, and literally dripping with liquid decay.

He could do nothing more than watch, unable to move fast enough to stop the blade from sinking into the flesh of his forearm, ripping through his arm with ease.

>>12510437

Pain.

All he felt was pain, searing through every nerve in his body. He could feel liquid fire burning through his veins, spreading further and further with every frantic beat of his heart. Despite the decades of training, the Storm Trooper let out a blood-curdling shriek of pain as he flew, only cut off by his impact with the ground, and all the air being knocked from his lungs.

He ripped the blade free, but it was too late. Already, the flesh was rotting before his horrified eyes, the agony driving out everything else from his mind.

He didn’t even notice the palace collapsing, or hear the roar of the Plague Marine as it was crushed to death. He didn’t notice the rubble hitting him, fracturing his bones, ripping more holes in his suit. He didn’t notice the choking dust clouds. Pain. Pain. Pain. He had to stop it.

He reached for Lucretia.

>>12510460

Five days later, Master Sergeant Davin Rex of the 308th Elysian Airborne, the famed ‘Helljumper’ Storm Troopers, staggered into the largest Chaos temple on the forsaken planet.

His left arm was gone from just above the elbow, ending in a charred stump. He’d shot it off with his beloved hellgun to try and stop the rot. It wasn’t enough.

He could barely walk, his body wracked by fever and convulsions. He staggered and stumbled, using Lucretia as a crutch. He was all but blind, his eyes fogged over by disease. His breath was laboured, blood dribbling from his mouth and staining his chin. He could feel them. He could feel the maggots, as they burrowed through his flesh, eating away at him.

The pain had escalated far beyond what he had ever thought was possible.

It was all he knew now. Nothing more than agony, the agony of his body slowly dying cell by cell.

He staggered into the temple, and none of the cultists tried to stop him. They knew a new disciple of Father Nurgle when they saw one.

>>12510490

He was wracked by a seizure, twitching and convulsing, and he fell to the ground. Agonisingly slowly, he dragged himself further into the foul temple, while the cultists watched and jeered with glee.

He was getting weaker and weaker. He dragged himself along with his remaining arm, being drawn deeper and deeper into the temple of decay. Somehow, he knew, that in the deepest reaches of this place was the altar to Nurgle.

Finally, after what seemed like a millennia, he was there. He couldn’t see, and he was glad for it. He knew that to look upon such a thing would instantly drive him mad. Something grabbed him, and he knew immediately that it was a daemon. His flesh putrefied and sloughed off at its touch, and he let out an animal groan of pain.

It dragged him along the ground, then slammed him down on a hard surface. This was the altar, he knew. He heard a voice, whispering in his ear.

“You want the pain to go away? It will. It will, when you embrace it. Embrace Papa Nurgle, and his gifts! Pledge yourself...” the voice hissed, sibilant and evil.

Blood and pus burbled on his lips as he struggled to speak. “I-I-I have to p-p-pledge my-myself to him?” he stammered out weakly.

“Yesssss...” the voice hissed. “Say it. Say ‘I pledge myself to you, Great Father Nurgle, body and soul. I accept your gifts’...say it, little toy soldier.”

He struggled to form the words, as he felt his life ebbing away. He gritted his teeth, and forced himself to speak clearly with the last of his strength.

“I...wish I had more meltabombs. Fuck Nurgle.” He gurgled out.

The he pressed the detonator hidden in his palm, and detonated the meltabombs he’d strapped to his body.


>Fin. Not EXACTLY what was requested, but I couldn't bring myself to let a badass like him go out like a sick old man. Giving Chaos the finger, that's the way to fuckin' do it!

Okay how about this.
The story of a quaint little family in the countryside of an agriculture world. The parents are watching their children from inside the house, the eldest sister amusing the little ones with her 'special powers', when suddenly the door is ripped down by an Excrutiatus of the Sisters of Silence, and her retinue. Might wanna insert some context about psyker smuggling in there, it's unlikely an Excrutiatus would turn up for one girl.
Awesome if you could do this one OP, I've had it in my head for a while, but I'm no writer.
Pic related - an Excrutiatus

So, any other requests?

>>12508942
Hrm. That has potential, but both parts combined are a bit too much for a short story. I could do one or the other, though.

bump

>>12510547

Hrm, I DO have a nice idea based off of that...it ain't gonna be a happy ending, that's for sure.

But then again...THIS! IS! GRIMDARRRRKKKKKK!

>>12510547

Jacob Smythe was a regular man with a regular life. He toiled in his fields by day, and relaxed with his wife Molly and his three daughters, Alyssa, Kelsie, and Angela by night. He worked hard, loved his family, and was a devoted father.

They’d always known that there was something odd about Alyssa, right from the day she was born. Strange things happening. Objects moving by themselves. Snatches of conversation. Odd lights. At first, they simply wrote off the odd occurrences, thinking nothing of it. But as the girl grew older, it got more and more pronounced, until they could no longer deny it. Their little girl was special.

Their planet was a backwater. The Imperium was little more than a legend, the only signs of its existence being the huge transport ships that came once a generation. Many of the uneducated farmers simply refused to accept that such a thing even happened until they saw it with their own eyes.

As such, Jacob was not exposed to the teachings of the Ecclesiarchy, and told the evils of psykers. He did not know the dangers that they represented, and his holy duty in handing his daughter over to by judged.

To him, she was his magical little angel.

>>12510659

By the time the twins came along, he’d accepted her powers. He kept it a secret of course. He didn’t want others knowing about how his little darling could light the fireplace with a snap of her fingers, or make all the furniture fly, or make him see wonderful things.

She only got more powerful. One evening, when Jacob was struggling to get the fields plowed with his temperamental Grox team, she came out to watch. With a casual flick of her wrist, the fields that took Jacob weeks to plough were churned up in an instant.

That had scared him a little, but she was only trying to help, so what did it matter if she had powers?

His misconceptions were shattered the night the Angels came.

He was outside, smoking his pipe, since his wife wouldn’t let him smoke in the house. He sat on a tree stump, alternatively gazing up at the stars and in at his family. The girls were sitting by the fireplace. Alyssa was waving her hands about, and by the rapturous, blank stares of the younger twins, he guessed that she was telling them a story. When she told stories, she made the girls see everything, like it was real. They loved it.

>>12510707

He gazed up at the stars again, and noticed a shooting star. Happy at his discovery, he spat on the ground, then asked the shooting star for good luck. They did that, you know. All you had to do was ask, and they’d grant you luck.

Something was odd about that one. It seemed to be getting larger and brighter, dangling in the sky far longer than any other shooting star he’d seen. Soon, the dumbstruck farmer had to shield his eyes to protect himself from the blindingly bright light.

He didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t know what he was seeing. That is, until the metal...thing...came to rest, and the doors opened. And women came out. And he knew, he knew what they were.

They were angels. They had to be. Come to take his daughter up into the sky to join them. He dropped to his knees, babbling incoherently at them, his hands clasped together.

They were beautiful. Pale white faces and hair, perfect and flawless. Golden and black armour of exquisite make. They filed out, and then the greatest one of them all followed.

She had to be...the...head angel. Or something. Dressed in clothes of finest red, red eyes, amazing. He had tears in his eyes. They...were unnerving. They had an air about them that made his hair stand on end. It HAD to be because they weren’t natural.

>>12510751

Your work is great. Keep it up champ.

>>12510751

They approached, and one of the youngest spoke to him. “Stand.” She ordered, her voice soft and musical. Jacob got to his feet, staring at them, breathing hard. He felt like his heart might stop. The red-coated angel made a few subtle signs. The young one spoke again. “The girl. Where is she?”

Unable to form any words, the farmer simply gestured towards his little cottage. Without even looking at him, the red angel swept past imperiously. The young one followed at her elbow obediently, along with one of the armoured guards. The other guard grabbed Jacob by the elbow, dragging him to his feet.

“You’ve come for m’girl, haven’t you?” he choked out, barely able to speak. The angel nodded. She had what could only be a weapon in her other hand, but Jacob had never seen anything like it. It certainly wasn’t like the old shotgun he used for hunting.

“I knew it! I knew she was special! I knew m’girl was an angel!” he babbled. He was struggling to cope with it all.

The red angel walked up to the door of his cottage, and kicked it open. That was a little rude, but she was an angel...she could do what she wanted!

Molly spun, lifting her rolling pin ready to strike. “What are you doin’!” she protested, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she froze as she took in who’d kicked in the door. She gaped, mouth hanging open like an idiot, shocked. The three little girls were looking at the intruder too. The twins looked at her with surprise and confusion. Alyssa...looked at her with open revulsion.

>>12510807

The young angel followed her mistress into the tiny cottage. She spoke, her musical voice calm. “We are here for the girl.” She announced.

Jacob and the two bodyguards followed them in, Jacob babbling and near-incoherent. “I knew it! I knew you’re an angel! I knew! I always said, didn’ I Molly? I always said, m’girl’s special, she is! They’ve come to take you to the sky, where you belong!” he babbled, his eyes filled with tears and his voice proud.

Molly looked confused, but she lowered the rolling pin and stopped gaping. She cleared her throat. “’Scuse me, angels, mistresses, but can I get you some tea or somethin’?” she asked shakily, long-engrained hospitality taking over when she didn’t know what else to do. She was just as dumbstruck as her husband.

The angels ignored them, the red-coated angel advancing on the daughters. She made a sign, and the other angels readied their weapons. That confused Jacob. Who was there to hurt?

Alyssa was crying now, scrabbling away. “Daddy! Daddy, save me!” she shrieked, backing away until she hit the wall, eyes wild. “Daddy they want to hurt me! Daddy!” she cried.

Jacob made to go to her, but the angel held him tight. “Alyssa! S’alright! They’re angels! They’ve come to take you home....right?” he asked the young one, the only one that talked. She ignored him.

Molly edged over a little, looking troubled now.

“Right, Miss Angel?” he pressed, troubled now.

>>12510885

The young one glanced back at him. “No. We are not here to take her. We are here to purge her with cleansing flame. Suffer not the witch to live.” Her voice was flat and emotionless, he realised, not calm as he had first thought. Like she wasn’t human.

He was dumbstruck. “What? But...you...you’re angels! She’s an angel! She has to be!”

The woman gave a tiny sneer. “Enough with your foolish superstition you backwards fool. She is no angel. She is an uncontrolled psyker, a filthy witch. She is suspected to have the potential to go far beyond Alpha-level in potency, not that someone as backwards as you would understand. She must be purged.” She told him, in that flat monotone.

The red-coated ‘angel’ advanced on Alyssa, drawing a blade inscribed with symbols Jacob didn’t recognize. Kelsie got in the way, and the woman kicked her hard in the head, sending the four-year-old sprawling with her sightless eyes staring.

Things happened swiftly then.

Molly shrieked, ripped up his hunting shotgun from where it had been hidden. She rarely fired the thing, but at such close range, she could hardly miss. Her first shot blew the head off of the talkative woman. He second killed the woman holding Jacob.

Alyssa let out a shriek as her sister was kicked, her eyes suddenly blazing with hellish light. The interior of the cottage was suddenly oven-hot, an eldritch wind whipping up from nowhere. The red-coated woman actually looked worried at that, even as she spun to face the immediate threat.

>>12510970
Holy Jeremiah this is awesome.
This is why I come to /tg/.

rolled 27 = 27

>>12508763
rolling

>>12510970

Both the red-coat and the bodyguard levelled their weapons, and fired streams of fire at his dear Molly. She caught fire, shrieking in agony as she cooked, but even as she blackened and burnt she tried to reload the shotgun and kill the women. She was finally halted when the red-coat stabbed her in the throat with her inscribed blade, twisting it about.

Loose objects whipped about the cottage like it was the center of a storm, and his little Alyssa floated off the ground, her eyes blazing with power. She made a ball of hellish green fire appear in her hand, then threw it at the women. It disappeared before it even hit, simply melting away.

Jacob was paralysed by horror, but soon, his body began to move of its own accord. Without wanting or meaning to, he reached over and grabbed the scythe hanging on the wall beside his front door.

He moved closer, staring wildly, unable to stop himself. It was like a dream, a horrific nightmare, that he was nothing but a witness to. His arms swung the scythe, and lopped the head of the bodyguard. She never saw him coming, her back to the farmer. Her body fell, blood spurting from her neck, and the red-coated woman began to turn.

Before she could raise her blade to defend herself, he swung the blade up and around in a high arc, hitting her shoulder just beside her neck. The fine blade punched into her body, sinking into her chest, and she froze, her eyes horrified. He looked back at her with equal horror, as his hands began twisting the scythe blade embedded in the woman.

She choked and coughed up blood, and soon her eyes unfocused and she went limp. Jacob felt himself kick her off of the blade with a sickening wet squelch, and suddenly, he was in control again. Horrified, he dropped the scythe, staring at his bloody hands.

>>12511175

He stood there, brain short-circuited, staring at his blood-soaked hands, until blood-curdling screaming snapped him out of it.

He looked up, to see his little angel Alyssa gouging out Angela’s eyes with her thumbnails.

The little girl shrieked over and over again in agony as her elder sister drove her thumbnails deeper and deeper, working them in with obvious relish, a smile on her face.

Then, quite calmly, she twisted her little sister’s head around, and ripped it right off of her body. She put her mouth over the stump, happily gulping down her sister’s blood. Soon she was finished drinking, and casually cut a few foul phrases and sigils into her sister’s corpse with her sharp fingernails before flinging it over her shoulder into the fireplace like it weighed no more than a feather.

She floated towards her father then, eyes burning. She spoke to him, with a million voices at once.

“Thank you, little puppet. I’ll have ever-so-much fun on this lovely little planet. So ripe for the slaughter!”

Jacob didn’t hear the words. His mind was completely shattered by now by what he’d witnessed. The catatonic farmer didn’t even scream when the daemon possessing his little girl immolated him with a casual snap of her fingers.

His little angel.


>Fin.

>>12511247

>>12511247
Coupled with what randomly came on my iPod, that was pretty damn terrifying.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDktQnH8QwU

Amazing job, Sir.

>>12511301
>>12511308

I'm glad you enjoyed it - I don't usually go for horror, but that just came to me.

>>12511377
well it was really good.

Right, does anyone else have any requests?

I'll be going to bed very soon, it's 1AM here. However, if this thread is still up and I still have muse for scribbles, then I'll fulfil any requests tommorrow before work. If the thread 404's or I don't feel like it, I'll make a thread at a later date to post 'em up.

>>12511525
How about a high ranking Sister of Battle who's always had a problem in her life; her faith/love of the Emperor is equal to her love of battle and carnage. In some battle against Slaaneshi cultists and I dunno... Dark Eldar (giant three way battle to the DEATH) she falls to the bloodlust just goes on a killing rampage and ends up becoming a champion for Khorne.
Or just a Sister falling to Khorne.

Love can bloom?
I like them tragic.

Something about a man who's gonna get ritualistic sacrificed (through combat against a evil power!) and a woman who's okay with this...at first.

Or anything else, really.
I want to cry today, anon.

>>12511561

>Sister
Uh-oh.
>Falling to Chaos
Oh man, I am not writing a damn fa-
>Khorne.
Oh. Everything went better than expected!

>>12511590

I have something quite downbeat in the archives, a pilot visiting the site of a battle and remembering his lost love:

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/12310532/

Don't know if it'll be enough for you, but I'll give a crack at something for you in the morning if that doesn't help.

Right, I'm off to bed. I'll check in the morning for any more requests, and write if I'm able.

Good night all!

And a final bump for good luck.

bump

BUMP FOR THE BUMP GOD! MORE WRITEFAG FOR THE THRONE OF WRITING!

bumpaage

>>12511561
Why Khorne?

MOAR!!!

Can i have Bad-ass-normal humans outsmarting superior Eldar, or Tau outsmarting superior humans. Actually any DE or Taufic would be nice.

>Wake up and stumble to laptop.
Blarg. Hurr durr hurf.
>Stumble off for wake-up pills and a shower before doing moar writing.

>>12516062
Daww

Hokay, I'm awake!
Also, slightly disturbing. I write a short story about Nurgle's children getting their arses handed to them...and then wake up this morning with an incredibly painful, huge fuck-off boil on the side of my neck. Coincidence? I think not! Ow. Sorry, Papa Nurgle.

In other news, outstanding requests are:

> Love can bloom? I like them tragic. Something about a man who's gonna get ritualistic sacrificed (through combat against a evil power!) and a woman who's okay with this...at first. Or anything else, really. I want to cry today, anon.

> How about a high ranking Sister of Battle who's always had a problem in her life; her faith/love of the Emperor is equal to her love of battle and carnage. In some battle against Slaaneshi cultists and I dunno... Dark Eldar (giant three way battle to the DEATH) she falls to the bloodlust just goes on a killing rampage and ends up becoming a champion for Khorne. Or just a Sister falling to Khorne.

> • Imperial Psyker being hounded by Karnak and minions of Khorne in general, for attempting to pacify the realm of the Blood God through sheer force of will, and faith in the Emperor.
Whilst he is doing this, he searches for ancient tech on a lost world, up to the point of being named as a heretic.

> A group of Brettonian Knights 'cleansing a mutant village'. Actually just one kid born with a slight defect, but that doesn't stop the killing everyone.

> Can i have Bad-ass-normal humans outsmarting superior Eldar, or Tau outsmarting superior humans. Actually any DE or Taufic would be nice.

>>12517169
Sounds like a good list, can't wait to see what you write.

>>12517347

I think I might give the Brettonian one a shot, take a break from grimdark sci-fi in favour of grimdark fantasy.

Geez, you wouldn't know from my writing that I'm the cheery, optimistic, idealistic type of guy. This stuff makes me sound like I'm one upset away from hanging myself.

On a slightly related note, cryanon, if you're still about, say so. I need to know if that other story helped you, or if you still need somethin' else.

Maybe someone should request something light-hearted then?

Requesting a story about a new superheroe spending his day doing mundane things and getting thanks from a lot of people. (Like getting cats from trees and stuff like that.) Can be any dort of superheroe, Mutants and Masterminds allows from some cool powers. (derp I'm playing a Green Lantern)

>>12517477
Cryanon here.

It was a nice story, but to be honest a nostalgic tone isn't my gig (romance-wise).

>>12518127

Added to the list.

>>12518139

Ah okay then. I'll try and write something better for you then.


Unfortunately, my muse has quite deserted me for now, so I'll give the writing a rest. Started the Bretonnia story, finding it difficult to continue.

If I feel like writing again later, I'll return to this thread. If it's 404'd by then, I'll make a new one. 'Til then, keep on posting up requests, and I'll take note of any good ones.

For now, I'll be playing Killing Floor.
TWO BLOODY GREAT HANDFULS

Oh, also, I now have a Deviantart profile:
http://t-s-k-tg.deviantart.com/

I'll be posting up all of my writing there.