"Get up."

Briefly, darkness and warmth went away, to be replaced by a faint light and cold. And pain. Echoes of the battlefield could be heard from around him, like they were entire worlds, galaxies away. Who said that? It had been a powerful, booming voice, yet he wasn't sure he had even heard it at all. Had it all been in his head?

Almost without thinking, he tried to obey, but it was too painful: he could barely feel, let alone move, the hands that were vainly trying to push the rest of his body back up - yet the pain he felt very clearly, running up and down his spine, burning his entire body. He managed an agonized scream.

And then the moment was over, the darkness returned. The war shut away from his senses once more. Then,

"Get up, pick up your gun, and fight."

The explosion was so loud it deafened him momentarily. Then the voices were back, and so was the pain, and the freezing, dirty water around him: the war had returned to him, like it had never been away. He tried to lift himself again: it was painful, yet somehow easier than the last time.

But he was not alone down there. Something else, right next to him, barely visible, barely above the surface. Slowly, his hand landed on it, and lifted up his weapon. His trusty lasgun, that had served along with him for almost literally thousands of conflicts. Without it, he was nothing - without him, it was nothing. It was wet, and dirty, but it would still work just as well as-

As what? Come on, that's annoying.

"AAUURGHH!!" Some of the younger children jumped, and one of them actually screamed himself, as the man suddenly yelled as loud as his old lungs could. He pointed his old, wooden cane directly behind his listeners, towards the door, to simulate a gun. "Almost instinctively, without thinking, the guardsman pointed his rifle at the cultist that had suddenly jumped on him, and fired! ZAP! ZAP! Three ZAP!s in quick succession, three times the weapon voiced its opinion of the matter."

"The cultist fell. The guardsman rose. His pain forgotten, he ran towards the fight once more, his weapon flaring at the enemy troops. He would live on to fight another day, to fight, and kill, for the Emperor, and for the Imperium of Man."

And then he fell silent. Sitting on his armchair, leaning on his cane, he allowed the children to digest upon the story he had told them.

Ooh, a twist? Okay.

Continue.

Devin Miligreen was an old man. Indeed, when he had moved to the village he had already felt impossibly old - and that was half a century ago. Most of his teeth were missing, his left eye seemed to have gone blind, his beard was almost long enough to trip in, and his arms and legs were like twigs. He would sometimes babble incoherently, laugh at inappropriate times, and mishear stuff. To many, he seemed completely insane. And nobody knew where he had come from: one of the neighbouring villages, perhaps?

He lived alone: Occasionally someone would come checking up on him, but the village had no resources, or desire, to fully take care of a single old fart. He seemed to be able to take care of himself quite well, anyway, despite his age.

"Now then," he spoke once more. "The guardsman stood up, and kept fighting, of course. But what do you think would have happened if he HADN'T stood up, if he had just accepted his fate and died?"

Some seconds of contemplation. Then a hand raised: it belonged to Marshall Coulter, eleven years old. "Go ahead, then, Marsh," Devin told him.

"Well, nothing much, right?", Marshall said. "I mean, there are like billions of guardsmen out there. And millions more die like this one! So what would it have mattered if one of them had given up?"

As mad as he often seemed, however, Devin was a great storyteller. Almost from the very moment of his arrival, he had gathered himself a very large group of listeners, and he would tell them of magnificent tales. They all were about war: about a great, eternal battle that was waged all across the stars. He told them about monsters, about men, about gods. About the men of Imperial Guard, the very backbone of Imperium of Man that spanned million worlds; about the gods that were Adeptus Astartes, the mighty Space Marines, the unbreakable, indestructible angels of death and hope; about the monsters that lurked in the darkness, the innumerable beasts that threatened to swallow mankind both from within and without, but which were always pushed back by the might of the Imperium.

He told them about the Emperor of Mankind, and his Primarchs, and their heroic exploits - and their betrayal.

And of course, none of them were real. At least, that's what people told to themselves. True, none of them knew what was up there, none of them had ever left this world, or met people or aliens from the stars - but certainly, that would mean Devin himself didn't know about them either, right? Perhaps there were moments when they could have believed for some of them to be true, especially at the midst of the old man's great storytelling, but none, not even children, genuinely thought them to be true. That is, until the ships had come.

This guy would have been put in a dreadnought by now.

>>5399292
Not a Marine. Apparently. Big difference.

Devin opened his mouth, and was just about to give a response to the child, when he was cut off by another voice: "Are you stupid?", the voice said. "If the guardsman could have given up, then why couldn't the other guardsmen beside him? If he could have stopped fighting, then why should the rest of them go on?"

The voice was that of Henni, one of his older audience, at the age of nineteen. None of them were older than twenty, for it had been but three years since the last time the recruiting ships had arrived, and every single one who had listened of his stories, and who was of age, had enlisted to the Guard. Poor Henni Saveroy, sixteen at the time, had not quite made it. She was forced to remain behind, wait for the next time the ships would come and take her away, while comforting herself with the heroic tales of Devin Miligreen.

The first time the ships had come was barely a decade after Devin. The stories their people told about the Imperium, and the eternal war that was going on, bore a very peculiar resemblance to Devin's tales indeed, and many a young man had joined in, encouraged by his stories, wishing to make some difference and better the entire humankind. And to further add fuel to flames, when the ships had returned three years ago, along with them came a whole lord general, who had marched straight to the old storyteller, embraced him, and chatted with him like they were old friends. As it turned out, he had been among those very first who had joined the Guard fourty years earlier: unlike many of his peers, he had survived, earned his place higher on rank, and would now be the one to command the new recruits to battle. And many indeed had joined.

>>5399322
But he must be a badass since he survived so many battles.

>>5399348
But he's just a storyteller!

...Right?

>>5399348
You've read this thing before, haven't you? Did you beta-test it?

Did you WRITE it?

How is it going to end? Tell us!

TOO. DAMN. SLOW.

"Yup, Henni here understands," he told Marsh. "If a guardsman falls, then it is but weakness of flesh, which can't be helped. A las shot blows his head off, an explosion tears him to pieces, a blade cuts out his entrails - it happens. It happens to countless poor souls serving the Imperium, and they will be remembered, but also replaced. But if he were simply to stop fighting... then why should the rest of them go on? And if none of them fought, the Imperium would fall."

"Alone, man is weak," little Karin said. "But being together with thousands will make him strong. The war may not need one man..."

"...but if one man is to back down out of sheer apathy," Henni continued. "What's to stop the rest to follow?"

Once, a young boy had come to him, claiming that he knew a story he didn't know of. So he had listened as the boy spoke: it had been a good story, and the kid was a decent storyteller as well. Once it was over, Devin had stood in silence for a moment... only to burst out laughing. Unlike what the boy claimed, it was indeed one of his stories - or had been, once, long ago. It had moved around the world, being told from mouth to mouth, and, like with Catachan Whispers, slowly transformed and mutated into something else altogether. That he could still recognize the thing, despite the fact that it had been three decades and two recruitement ships since he had last told the story to anyone, was a testament to his skill and talent - and perhaps to that he wasn't quite as crazy as people thought him to be.

"One thing, though," Henni stopped to ask, as the children and teenagers had stood up and prepared to make their leave from the old man's house: they had spent most of the evening there, listening to the stories, but now it was late, and the night was falling. "Are you saying that the Emperor whispers to every soldier that falls like that, and tells them to get up?"

But Devin just chuckled. "Who says it was the Emperor to begin with?"

"Well, who else would it... um..." The old man just stayed silent and smiled at her mysteriously. Eventually, she was forced to give up: "Never mind, I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

And then she was away. Chuckling to himself, Devin Miligreen closed his door.

And, done. For now.

Well that was a bit... pointless. I mean, story about a story? Come on.

>>5399536
>For now.

This brings me hope. Looking forward for more stuff.

I mean, it's pretty obvious this Devin guy is going to kick ass. Right?

>>5399536
Look forward to the next installment. I love story threads, and thus, make habit to archive them. Here's this one.

Personally, I feel that we get way too little writefaggotry on this board. Not that there's anything wrong with a good drawfag, it's just... yeah.

Pretty boring so far, but has some promise for great things to come.

Also you can write okay.

Nurgle was the speaker. The guardsman doesn't know it, but he signed a pact for all eternity. Slowly the great father's disease will overtake him and he will ascend to one of his chosen plaguebearers.

>>5400327
This a fact? Or just a guess?

Iunno, I'm just a fan of Papa.

This is pretty good. Keep on witting.

"who said it was the emperor?"

THEN WHO WAS WHISPER?

>>5400584
>"who said it was the emperor?"

Who said it wasn't?

It was his Commisar, he wanted him to get up, because he felt guilty shooting him while he was lying down.

>>5400584
THEN WHO WAS PHONE?!!

>>5400722
>Commissar
>Feeling guilt

Totally Nurgle.

The guy telling the story is probably his champion as well. I mean, a jolly old man, come on! It couldn't be any more obvious!

Eh.

Moar.

Devin opened his eyes. This notion made not much of difference, as the room was pitch black. He sat up on his bed, throwing the blanket away, and letting his one good eye adjust to the darkness.

Something was up.

Within five minutes, he was up and outside, with a cane and an electric lantern. It was a chilly summer night, and the sky was dark - along with the slightest hue of sinister dark red. Devin did not move outside much - he often had children to run errands for him in exchange for stories - but now he was hurrying down the hill reasonably quickly for his old age.

The storyteller moved on towards the small village, on the edge of which he lived, dead of night, wearing old night robes (complete with a funny hat and slippers) and holding on to his cane for support. He cursed under his breath, like a lesser man would curse about a puppy that wasn't yet housebroken taking a dump on his favourite rug. One might say that he was mildly annoyed.

"So, you are coming then," something said in his head. Or perhaps he had just imagined it. Nonetheless, he refrained from responding.

The village was, at this hour, mostly empty, aside from a couple drunkards, swaying in the middle of the road and observing to the sky.
"Ay'm telling ya, it's all red!", one of them said. "The sk-sky's red!"
"Naww, you're just drunk."
"But ya're seein' it too!"
"Well I'm drunk too, so thar. Oh hi," he added, as he looked down and saw Devin approaching.

"Good evening, gentlemen," the old man responded casually. "Having a nice evening?"
"Just tell this fella here the sky ain't no red!", the drunk demanded. "Is blue!"
"Nope, it's a bit red, actually."
"Whu? You drunk too?"
"No." He sighed. "You two, how about going along and alerting the PDF? ...Or, just make as much noise as possible if you can't do that," he added. "Try to wake up everyone."
"Hows come? Something's up, whu?"

But Devin was already on the move. By this point the sky, although still mostly of dark blue, had some bright red dancing lights, as if stars themselves had decided to go on the move for no reason whatsoever. There was also a peculiar smell in the air, although he figured no one else but him could notice.

inb4 epic

He sighed. It was a small, distant planet, at the edge of the galaxy. Until very recently, it had been isolated from the Imperium, and the rest of the mankind, for thousands of years, enough for its people to forget about it all. But although it was insignificant and pointless, Devin had not a shadow of a doubt that the war would find it in the end. The war always consumed everything.

Half of him had hoped it would happen only after his death, so that he could have at least a few decades in peace. The other half had hoped it would happen before that, so that he would have been there still to do something about it.

"Turn right here." The voice was there again, as but a whisper: a sinister, low hiss from the depths of his brain. Regardless of its nature, or origin, he did as he was told. And stopped in front of a small house: it seemed like any other normal building next to it, aside from a bloody handprint - a sign, or a warning - on the inside window. He opened the door, and stepped inside.

What greeted him there was a horrible sight indeed: whoever had lived in this house had met a quick and grisly end, as someone had literally given the walls a new red paint job, as well as decorated the room with limbs and intestines. There were fingers hanging from the doorways, and a flayed skull rest on a table with a burning candle inside it, like some disgusting brand of performance art. Kidneys laying in human piss, liver dunked in a barrel of booze, blasphemous messages written on the walls.

"Downstairs," said the voice. Devin rolled his eyes: they were -always- in the basement. They could figure out billion ways to hurt someone, billion diseases and plagues, billion fetishes and ways of pleasure, billion plots and gambits. All that way beyond what human brain could ever understand. But they never had any sense of drama or theatrics.

He tried not to think what he nearly slipped on while heading downstairs.

It was cold and damp underground, not to mention the darkness and the everpresent smell of blood and death. By the illumination of his lantern, he saw bare, featureless brick walls and a wooden floor, along with barrels and shelves that had in the past contained food supplies and alcohol: those had been thrown away and discarded, replaced with blood and organs. Evidently quite a many people had inhabited the premises in the past: now it was inhabited only by dead. There was no living thing in sight.

"I'm here," he boomed, loud and clear. "Show yourself."

And from the shadows, behind a barrel, the only other living thing in this house lurched forward. No, disregard that, Devin thought: it was no longer alive. The boy that the world had once known by the name of Marshall Coulter, was long gone, the unholy being that had destroyed him using his earthly remains as its puppet. He was still wearing his pajamas - apparently surprised at the middle of the night, just like Devin was - now drenched in the blood of his parents and siblings. He was wielding a short, bloody kitchen knife in one hand, the other squeezing his plushie Astartes against him, a crotesque contradiction and contrast to the rest of his appearance. He grinned at the old man, someone else's life essence dripping from his jaws.

And he laughed. It was like a happy giggle of a child, except warped and distorted by the daemon until it was nigh unrecognizable. "You're here!", it said. "You've finally come to me! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy is this going to be just so much fun!"
The other one snorted. "Sure, whatever. Pardon me for asking, I'm getting old and senile y'know, but how is slaughtering a single old geezer more fun than slaughtering an entire large family? ...Besides the obvious, I mean," he added.
"Don't play games with me. I know what you are."
"Oh?"
"Or what you used to be, anyway."
"Oh."

>>5401510
>Kidneys laying in human piss, liver dunked in a barrel of booze

HOLY SHIT IT'S TRYING TO BE FUNNY

Can Chaos do that? I didn't think they could. Blasphemy!

Silence fell between them for just a moment. Spending this much time in a room with a daemon without trying to smite it with righteous fury counted, as Devin recalled, at least eight different brands of heresy, but he was just plain too old to care.
"'What I used to be', then. How does that even matter? Regardless of my past, you are still attacking but a frail old man."
"Yeah. What's your point?"

This time the once-Marsh's joyful yet twisted laughter carried with it far deeper, darker connotations. In a split second, barely enough time for human mind to notice, the temperature in the room plummeted - followed very quickly by a psychic assault that shattered barrels, blew up severed limbs and innards in little splashes of gore, and struck straight at the old man, who gritted his teeth. It had been a long, long time since he had felt such pain in his old bones, and it did take him some effort and an agonized grunt to defend against it, but in the end he prevailed: throwing his hand to his side, the blast followed, creating a large crater to the wall in a loud explosion, sending dust and shattered brick everywhere.

Both combatants swayed like drunkards, although in every other meaning they were about as far from such state of intoxication as possible.

"Old man?!" The beast still laughed, but there was nothing of child left there by now. "A FRAIL OLD MAN?! THAT'S ALL YOU ARE?!", it screamed, as its eyelids and ears began to bleed: it was a young and inexperienced vessel holding back far greater power than this world had ever seen, so its crumbling and shattering was but a matter of time. "Do you really hold yourself in such LOW REGARD, with all that POWER you still hold?!"

>>5399574
>I mean, it's pretty obvious this Devin guy is going to kick ass. Right?

CALLED IT!

I mean...
>>5401624
Wow.

Okay that's pretty neat. You gonna post more, or what?

In contrast to the loud, pompous daemon, Devin Miligreen still remained calm and collected. "Age is but a number," he said. The boy's arm fell off from the middle, in a spray of blood. "Case in point," he added sardonically, nodding at the severed hand.
"Yeah? Then why diD yOu reTIRe?!", it inquired in an increasingly distorted speech. "AFTer ALL, onLY In dea-AT-ath d-does dut-"
"My turn," Devin interrupted.

He would not have a beast of Chaos lecture him about the doctrines of the Imperium: certainly he knew their holy texts and writings far better than this thing, who clearly could not do much else than recite some of its most quoted and overused parts (in a barely human speech, no less). His own attack was enough to explode the boy into millions of pieces, disintegrate him until there was no bigger parts left than a finger and maybe an occasional eyeball. That was not, however, much of a feat to talk about, as the daemonhost was already almost beyond breaking point.

The psychic wind that was the daemon's birth scream swept through the room, striking Devin and blowing his robes, almost throwing him out of balance as well. He covered his eyes with his hand, from the gust of wind, and the visceral remains of the poor Marsh that were flying towards him.

It was a small basement, and what now occupied it filled it entirely. The creature was very vaguely bird-like, with claws and wings and beak, yet somehow it occurred to Devin that this was not by its own choice. As if the reality itself was forcing this guise on it, when its real form would have broken every single law of physics known to man or alien.

It hurt his eyes watching the thing: twice so when it somehow managed to spread its giant wings, regardless of the walls that were crushing it from all sides. Its mere precense was distorting the dimensions in the room in order to accommodate its massive size.

The Lord of Change raised its clawed hand.

End of part 2. You are now free to point out whatever glaring errors to WH40k lore you can find.

>tl;dr an old badass psyker poses as a storyteller, kicks demon ass

I'm cool with this.

>ends in cliffhanger

I'm not cool with this.

what no finish for gods sakes

>>5401727
This is already better than most shit getting published now.

I reckon you should've waited for a couple weeks with this.

Summer just doesn't bring the proper recognition to good threads. Bloody trolls.

>>5401798
Quite possibly. I'm glad at least a couple people managed to read through it and liked it, though.

Going to do any more of this? Pretty please?

>>5401727

Not even a single fluff error and I'm a fluff nazi. Riveting tale old chap and I'm awaiting the sequel with great anticipation.

>...yet somehow it occurred to Devin that this was not by its own choice. As if the reality itself was forcing this guise on it, when its real form would have broken every single law of physics known to man or alien.

I'm not quite sure about this one. Is it really how Lords of Change work?

Otherwise, great story. Willing to let a single possible extremely minor fluff error slide.

I declare this to be generally epic and or sufficient intrinsic quality that I don't give jack shit about whether or not it follows the lore exactly, its a big galaxy, and this fucking rocks.

Know what would be pretty cool, guys?

Drawfaggotry.

I think I'd like to see some. If there's something even better than good writefaggotry, then it's good writefaggotry with good drawfaggotry.

>>5402276

tl;dr
>>5401750
>tl;dr version

Nvm. Reading this now.

Better than 3/4ths of the threads here.

Post more, good master.

>wearing old night robes (complete with a funny hat and slippers)
>He was still wearing his pajamas - apparently surprised at the middle of the night, just like Devin was - now drenched in the blood of his parents and siblings.

You're now imagining a pillow fight between a little kid and an old man.

>>5402679
I am not aroused by this.

Ew.

>>5401727

No glaring errors, in fact no errors at all, but I do have a nitpick:

>The Lord of Change raised its clawed hand.

I'd change the moniker to something else (The Changer of Ways or whatever) to make sure people don't get confused and start thinking that's actually Big Daddy Tzeentch himself popping over for a visit...

...That ISN'T Tzeentch, right? It's just a tzeentchite daemon, right?

>>5402754
>...That ISN'T Tzeentch, right? It's just a tzeentchite daemon, right?

Nope, the guy totally just beat the crap out of Tzeentch himself. Fucker never stood a chance.

Point taken, though.

One-word review is all that is called for.
MOAR!

>>5402754
The tzeentchan greater daemon is called a lord of change. one of Tzeentch's titles is changer of ways. So you got that a bit mixed up.

Is this archived yet?

This should be archived.

Awesome.

>>5403026
Can always do it yourself.

>>5403159
Can't, banned.

Part three coming up.

>>5403255
Kickass. Can't wait.

>>5403255
Fucking awesome!

Bump of celebration.

It's been pretty great so far. Looking forward for more.

Not long left, is there?

>>5403255
BUUUUMP

A Space Marine!

A real, honest-to-Emperor real Space Mari- wait, how could it be real? Why in the warp would a mighty Space Marine, a demigod, an Angel of Death, Emperor's Mercy, Emperor's Wrath, Emperor's Judgement, and Emperor's Whatever ever come down here to this forsaken and silly little world, and actually talk to her, of all peop-

"I said: Where would I find Devin Miligreen?" Its voice was low, dark, clear, and very much perfect. And loud.

"Huh? Oh, right! Um," Henni Saveroy snapped back into reality. Or dream, if this was such. The being was just as the old storyteller had so often described, yet something infintely more. It was twice her size, clad in green and black metal gear from head to toes, the eyes in its inhuman steel head glowing bright yellow. What'd he want of some old fart, anyhow? Shouldn't he be fighting the enemies of the Imperium somewhere?

But then again, she thought as she glimpsed at the bright red sky, maybe now that would be -here-.

>>5403956
Why is that marine walking past a chaos cultist?

Is he fail marine?

>>5403984
That would be a fallen Dark Angel.

"He's-" she begun to answer his question, but was broken off by a loud, exploding sound from the other side of the village. Both the girl and the Marine turned to look over there, and saw a very brief flash of light followed by a burst of black smoke. Or, that's what she saw, at least: maybe his god-like eyes were witnessing something entirely different and awesome.

"Never mind, I think I found him," the Marine said. Its metal feet moved much faster than Henni might have expected them to - they looked like giant steel pillars or some such, after all - as the giant set on moving towards its new target. She followed him: it was the first really exciting thing she had ever seen in her boring life, and Emperor damn her if she would ever let it vanish from her sight!

The streets were full of people. This was very much uncommon for such a late hour, but it seemed to be a largely uncommon situation in general, so she let it slide. She heard the alarm blaring, more or less covering the other sounds of chaos and disorder, as the people were heading towards shelters.

The Coulter family home, as she soon discovered, had been reduced to flaming rubble and ash. There was no living thing in sight. She didn't feel much for the boy, or his family, partly because of the shock of all this happening to her tonight had pushed away all her ability to be sad for anyone's passing, but also because she had never much liked him to begin with anyway.

"Maybe you should go back home, girl. This is no place for civilians." Henni ignored the Marine.
"Wh-what happened here?"
"Chaos happened," he responded, as if it was the most obvious and unexciting thing in the world. He moved on into the wreckage, crushing the remains of the building under his mighty feet wherever he landed them, looking for... something? She didn't know what.
"Excuse me, what're you-"

>>5403956

For 'demi-gods' they sure do die horribly when you turn enough krak missiles, plasma guns, meltaguns, shit, even Lasguns, in their general direction.

Now I've gotta see the end of this.

>>5403995
Unlikely. The chaos cultist is making the sign of the aquilla and the marine is obviously a dark angel who hasn't fallen. Hence he looks untouched by chaos and is wearing DA heraldry.

>>5404011
Play DH. Your party gets TPK by a single marine.

>>5404011
Yeah, but remember that the chick has heard Imperial propaganda from apparently a very charismatic story guy for all her life.

Besides, fluff-wise they really are pretty damn tough bastards.

>>5404011
In fluff marines are superhuman. Bulletproof, unbreakable boned, tank flipping, inhumanly fast monsters.

>>5404027

Fluff doesn't count because it varies wildly based on whoever is writing it. In one instance they're practically invulnerable to everything including Titan weaponry, in others they're dying to Lasgun volleys set on Hot Shot\High power setting. Game mechanics don't work either because both are varied abstractions. Short of it is Games Workshop and it's subsidiaries are piles of shit that can't make up their fucking mind because they'd rather cater to whatever the fanboys will buy the most of at the time.

>>5404051
So what would stop this writefag from making up his own fluff, if the rest of them can?

Besides, as said, propaganda.

But once again she was broken off, this time by a very familiar face, emerging from under a splintered door the Astartes had picked up from the ground. Devin Miligreen, so far known to her as nothing but an old, senile raconteur, looked as if he had aged another fifty years as he climbed out from the hole that was all that remained from the stairs leading to basement, panting heavily, leaning to his cane with one hand, drenched completely in blood. But he was grinning widely, like the demented old guy whose facade he had held all these years.

"Oh, hi," he said at the green Marine, talking to the demigod as casually as if they were old friends.
"Sir," the Marine responde- wait, did a demigod just call an old storyteller "Sir"?!
"A-are you okay?", Henni asked.
"Huh?" He looked his clothes. "Oh, it's okay. It's not mine. Belonged to poor ol' Marshall, this stuff did..."

Slowly, his voice trailed away, as he noticed where both the girl and the Marine really were looking at. Their attention had been fixed to his other stick arm, the one that was not leaning to a cane - in fact, it was missing entirely. Bits of metal and what appeared to look like electric wires hung from his shoulder.

"Oh!", he exclaimed loudly as it dawned to him. He waved what was still left of the hand. "It's fine! It can be fixed. It's just metal. Anyway..." He turned his attention back to the Marine. "Brother Elias, I believe? I've been held a bit dark about the situation here. What's up?"

>>5404011
Being able to take 20 lasguns shots is pretty damn good. Seeing as a normal person couldn't take 1

Quite interesting so far and I must say nicely written.

THIS SHOULD GO ON WIKI-I mean 1D4CHAN

"Actually, it's Brother-Sergeant now," Brother-Sergeant Elias of the Salamanders chapter corrected, but the little error slide: obviously there was infinitely more important stuff to talk about. "The Planetary Defense Force has been alerted, and we should be in full state of preparedness within another hour or so. Reports of first encounter came in quarter an hour ago, from several hundred miles northeast, containing mainly cultists of Chaos and traitor guard, with an occasional minor daemon. The entire world has been covered in a heavy warp storm, preventing anyone outside from interfering or approaching: the only Imperial force to reach the planet before the storm were me and my squad - five Marines in total - as well as Lord Inquisitor Zeas, whom we were escorting. My brothers have spread upon the nearby cities to help organize defense, while Zeas and his men should be somewhere around here."
"I see."
"Now, if I may ask, what is your situation?"
"Well-"

"Excuse me!"
All three turned to look at the new arrival - or new arrivals, as it turned out, more than a dozen in total. The one who had called out to them was now stumbling through the rubble of the building, nearly tripping on one occasion ("Woah, there!"): he was wearing a power armor as well, albeit much smaller than the one Sarge Elias had - and without helmet, which allowed Henni to discern his rather young age. In his thirties, maybe fourty years at most, with a slightly plump face, large eyebrows, short black hair, no scars or anything like that.

>>5404130
Feel free to add it. I'm too lazy.

Also suptg.

He had a large chainsword hanging from his belt, as well as a bolt pistol; a large torch strapped to his back, burning in blue flame; several medals, a long red cloak, and a great deal of assorted bling. Observing the man, she quickly deduced him to be the Lord Inquisitor Zeas. Along with him were a squad of stormtroopers - distinct from the basic guardsmen by better equipment and bigger guns - whose sergeant was constantly barking orders to his vox, probably to the PDF. Aside from them, there were also a couple shadier characters, possibly acolyte Inquisitors or psykers (or both), as well as two stranger creatures, floating in mid-air around their Inquisitor master: a servo-skull and a cherub, both chittering mindlessly as they zoomed around like flies.

The man was shaking as he finally stopped in front of Devin. "That's you, isn't it?", he asked, in a faltering voice. "It's really you? Lord Inquisitor Devin Miligreen?"
Henni's jaw dropped. Lord Inquisi-
"Uh-huh."
Immediately after, Zeas picked his remaining hand to his, shaking it almost violently. He was laughing. "Oh, this is just wonderful! It's a great honor to finally meet you, sir! I'm a big fan of yours, I've read every single book and report and story!"
"Really?" The older man's face beamed with pride. "What was your favourite?"
"Oh, very definitely the Gavorka Prime Conflict, the way you dealt wi-"
"Excuse me!" This was Brother-Sergeant Elias speaking. "We are in a middle of a Chaos incursion here, this is hardly the time for pleasant chat!"

>>5404132
>>Salamanders chapter

Well that explains why he was so tolerant of civilians

Both Inquisitors looked rather embarrased. "Yes yes, quite," Devin said. "As I was saying..." He cleared his throat. "The source of Chaos taint on the planet, indeed very likely the cause for this entire invasion, was one Marshall Coulter, eleven years old, and the awakening of his latent psychic powers - gamma, perhaps even beta level. The poor boy's mind could not match the might of the Warp, and was immediately consumed by a greater daemon of Tzeentch, who proceeded to slaughter his family and conjure the warp storm. I have dealt with the situation and sent the daemon back to the abyss: now all that is left is to hold out against the Chaos until the warp storm dissipates and reinforcements can arrive."
"Right. Yes. I agree. We should... do that." The younger Inquisitor nodded. He turned away, and only now seemed to notice Henni: she in turn was preoccupied with his cherub, which was now flying around her head. "What's with the girl?"

"Huh? Me?" Her attention snapped back to them, away from the little creature.
"Oh, she's with me," Davin said. "Just some plucky young girl who wishes to serve her Emperor. Smart, devoted. Great attitude. Could someone please give her a gun?"

Henni almost fainted as one of the gloomy acolytes handed her a standard-issue laspistol. She had never even held a real gun before - and how the situation looked like, she would soon get to shoot stuff with it as well! And old Davin was a Lord Inquisitor, hot diggity!

This Henni sure sounds like some stereotypical goofy, hyperactive, and clumsy anime chick. This mental image bothers me, and is a bit of a stain in an otherwise quite good story.

>>5404259
..Does she end up a Sister of Battle?

Suddenly she gets CHAINAXE IN FACE.
Kharn just stands on top of the nearby hill, hand on his hips, stance wide, with a shit-eating grin on his face.
That fucker can throw.

>>5404195
I can almost picture Zeas asking for an autograph.

>>5404259
>And old Davin was a Lord Inquisitor, hot diggity!

>hot diggity!

>HOT DIGGITY!

>>5404298
I've always lived in the impression they're taken from their homes when they're like ten. She's way too old.

>>5404292
Could be explained that she's not fully indoctrinated with the imperial cult, thus her energy isn't used to scream out praises for the emperor.

"So, what's the plan?", she asked, from no one in particular: it just felt rather pointless to direct her question at anyone, since everyone present was way above her in rank, and she wasn't even quite sure who was in charge.
"Well, as long as we are facing nothing but traitor guard and cultists," said Elias, "my brothers can handle the offensive by themselves, while PDF should be sufficient on defending the planet. As for now, they should have absolutely nothing we couldn't handle: we will be able to do a great deal of damage to their lines. Once the traitor Marines and greater daemons arrive, which should not happen for a few days at least (if they ever show enough interest to such a backwater planet to intervene in the first place), we will pull back and concentrate upon defense - unless the storm has expired, in which case we will get to have reinforcements, and can keep on with the assault."
Said Devin, "Right. That's a good plan." Beat. "Do you have a transport? My old legs are so weak."

"I have a Chimera," Zeas said. "It may not be very classy or comfortable, but it will get us around."
"Right! Good man! Let's go then! You know where we're going, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Good. We'll strike straight at the heart of the enemy! Into the flames of conflict, unto the... I can't remember, how did it go again, Sarge?"

>>5404330
She will learn.

>>5404329
She show extraordinary.. uh.. whatever..

And you are never too old to serve The Emperor.

>>5404430
>And you are never too old to serve The Emperor.

Oh, definitely not. I think old man Devin is a living example. Only in death and all that.

The Marine sighed, an act likely very rare among his kind. Henni could imagine him rolling his eyes behind his helmet - if he was ever capable on such a lowly display of sarcasm. "Into the fires of battle, unto the anvil of war, Lord Inquisitor."
"Yes! That! Into the fires of battle, unto the anvil of war! Come on now, girl, we're going."

And so begun their counterstrike against the forces of Chaos, and the adventures of Henni Saveroy as the personal assistant of the pulled-from-retirement Lord Inquisitor. One and half dozen faithful riding under the red sky, going against entire armies of the Traitors. Their faith for the Emperor was strong beyond measure, and their foes, innumerable as they were, mighty as they thought they would be, were truly so very weak in their heresy, and so alone. Whether they survived or not, whether the planet survived or not, whether the will of the Emperor was carried out today or not, they would make the price much too high to pay for the enem-
"Oh and, do you have a Techpriest or something? I'd really like to have this arm fixed."

End.

You better be fucking joking.
Seriously
You cant end here.

>>5404496
Oh, I'm sorry, you're right! Of course I can't end it here.

---

"Can I have your autograph?", Zeas asked.
"Sure," Devin said, and scribbled his initials to the younger Inquisitor's data slate, already containing such names as Ciaphas Cain, Ibram Gaunt, and Ursakar E. Creed.

He had never met Creed, though. How the warp that autograph ended up there, nobody knew. Still, he wasn't complaining.

>>5404522
FFFFFF-

>>5404522
I am amused.

Good show.

I demand an epilogue on the little girl!

Okay, that was all in all pretty fucking awesome story. Thanks for sharing it with-
>>5404522
CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!!1

>>5404603
She's like nineteen. Totally not "little".

>>5404603
No.

>>5404624
What, where did it say that?

I DEMAND A RECOUNT.

>>5404603
Well, she served as the Lord Inquisitor Devin Miligreen's hypercompetent assistant and bodyguard, until it was discovered she's actually an alpha plus level psyker. So they made her an Inquisitor as well, a task she was extremely skilled at, purging great deal of Chaos filth from the galaxy.

All following stories will center on her.

>>5404651
See >>5399333
>The voice was that of Henni, one of his older audience, at the age of nineteen.
>at the age of nineteen.

>>5404667

....MARY SUE.

>>5404699
You totally asked for it.

>>5404713
DOUBLE MARY SUE.

MARY TWO.

>>5404667
Please tell me you're joking.

>>5404667

Made a daemon her husband and had god-like half-daemon babies that were good and had a boner for ze emprah.

>>5404872
Okay now you're scaring me. Stop it.

Can't be the only one who wants to know what exactly happened in Gavorka Prime.

Has this been archived?

>>5405278
Yeah. Feel free to vote up if you enjoyed the story as much as I did.

All writefaggotry posts from >>5403956 and onward were written by a different guy from OP. I can't believe no one noticed.

>>5405346
What makes you think that?

>>5405355

Different writing style, different focus, shorter descriptions, more stereotypical, subtle elements of mary sue fanfics added as parody. It was a different writer. Or the same writer trying to troll his own work, which seems unlikely to me.

>>5405376
It was epic nonetheless.

>>5405376
I wouldn't be so sure. The completely different style could be explained by a different point of view - one that was like at least a century younger and pretty damn inexperienced. Also I saw no Mary Sue implications: I honestly saw nothing sueish about the girl, at least in the original story, before >>5404667.

>>5405614

The amount of knowledge the girl had about the Imperium, and the sudden arrival of Imperial and Chaos forces, also clash with the first parts of the story IMO. Read it all in one go. It doesn't quite mesh.

>>5405644
She has pretty much grown up with the stories of the Imperium, and is apparently smart and inituitive enough to remember enough details to make the difference between a standard guardsman and a stormtrooper - and anyone could recognize an Inquisitor from hundred feet away with all that shiny stuff he was wearing.

I do see your point, though.

>>5405644
>and the sudden arrival of Imperial and Chaos forces

The way I understood it, at the moment Devin woke up and went after the daemon, both sides had already landed. The Imperials just showed up to that particular town shortly afterwards.

>>5405792
Sure that works, although it really still wasn't explained all that well. But it was pretty cool story all in all, so who cares.

To whoever doubts this was all written by the same guy: I can vouch for him. It was indeed the same writefag, despite the different writing style in the third part. He's just, shall we say, slightly deranged and with a severe case of cabin fever, which is supposed to explain part 3 looking so different.

I wouldn't put past a multiple personality disorder, either.

>>5406448
There's a thin line between madness and genius, as they say. I guess it applies here.

This thread has my seal of approval.

bump