BotL - Monthly fluff challenge

[simison]

If we went through with it, I had planned a legion summary. Something like...

 

"Illusive and cunning, the Dune Serpents only reveal themselves to their enemies only when they choose to. Before that point, enemy armies suffer sabotage as their communications are jammed, their officers go missing in the night, and their supplies are poisoned. It is only well after the Dune Serpents' venom has worked its way through the veins of their enemy do they finally strike from afar. For Azus, the Ghost of the Sands, views close-combat as a wasteful, vainglory endeavour. The only Primarch to wield an archeotech sniper rifle, Azus would have every opponent dead several kilometres from his lines, ideally without ever knowing his position. Although effective against the enemies of Man, the Dune Serpents were viewed with distaste for their eagerness to employ the dreaded phosphex and rad-weaponry and were often deployed to unleash their brutality against those who had truly earned the Emperor's ire. When the Insurrection struck, the Dune Serpents split between Loyalist and Traitor as loyalty was a fickle concept to the Legion."

[bluntblade]

I'd soften some of the stuff about loyalty, or rather alter it to the Dune Serpents barely being a Legion in the conventional sense.

[bluntblade]

c&c welcome

 

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Ghosts of the White Plains

The history of the XIV Legion begins in the latter years of the Unification Wars, in the borderlands between Orioc and the remnants of the Pan-Pacific Empire, among other powers. On the salt plains and ice drifts of the Shakletian Wastes, a nomadic culture had evolved to survive in the shadow of far more powerful neighbours. They sheltered in subterranean locales, always ready to flee at a moment’s notice, and they traveled in small, ragtag convoys of vehicles. 

Circumstances dictated their way of war, with an emphasis on guerilla tactics. Shelters, once abandoned, became traps for overconfident invaders, as did the war machine graveyards that littered the plains. Often the largely featureless salt flats were exploited for their potential to disorient intruders. The most prized trick of all was to direct one incursion against another, knowing that the Shakletians were viewed as quite insignificant threats. At the end of a battle any tech that could be made to function was salvaged, and so the nomads acquired a strange melange of weapons and vehicles.

However, they never had an opportunity to expand their domain to a significant degree. Narthan Dume and his rivals simply had armies too vast and too powerful to guard any fortress or border against. Moreover, they lacked large numbers of forges, and had no way of matching the gene-brute soldiers used by the barbarian kingdoms. When the Emperor finally toppled the Unspeakable King the Shakletians waited to see what would occur, wary of exposing themselves to attack by an ascendant power. Orioc, indeed, was emboldened, and its cultists of the Eternal Dirge launched a fresh wave of assaults against Dume’s old vassals even as the forces of Unity advanced towards them.

The first Imperial forces to reach Shakletia made much the same mistakes as their enemies had, and the Thunder Warriors suffered far steeper losses than had been expected. The nascent III Legion arrived to support them, it while they made substantial advances, their casualty rates too came as an unpleasant surprise. To be sure, the III would have achieved total conquest of the region within a few months, but Aitur, their first Legion Master, decided that another course of action was more desirable. Shakletia had little value except as a stepping-stone to Orioc, and the nomads were plainly no friends to the Dirge cultists. Over the objections of the Thunder Warriors, Aitur argued for an attempt at negotiation, even an alliance.

The Emperor saw the wisdom of Aitur’s counsel, and made His way to the theatre to meet with the nomads. The Shakletian war leader, it transpired, was a young man named John Lawrenz. Orphaned by an Orioc slaving foray, he had grown up with a fierce hatred for the cultists, tempered only by his concern for the people he fought for. Many of the strategies that had stalled the Thunder Warriors were of his devising, and the Emperor recognised the potential for Lawrenz and his men if they could be elevated to the power of the space marines.

The terms he offered were simple: the Shakletians would serve as outriders to His forces, and the Emperor would destroy the last of the tyrants who had forced this hardship on them for generations. The importance of the latter can hardly be overstated, as the Shakletians’ existence had been moulded by those who sought to rule them even when they defied would-be conquerors. Plenty and comfort were luxuries they had never enjoyed; if the Emperor proved true to His word, their horizons would broaden exponentially.

The course of the war against the Dirge cultists of Orioc is of course well known, although the Shakletian role in it is less so. They served admirably, as they did with the III Legion against the last of Narthan Dume’s viceroys and vassals. When the Emperor met with Lawrenz again, on the eve of His departure for the final warzones around Arrakis, He made a new offer. The men of Shakletia would form the XIV Legion Astartes, carrying the light of Unity beyond Terra. In return for his people’s right to claim several of Orioc’s frontier settlements, Lawrenz and the Shakletian elders accepted.

Lawrenz and the first captains drew on several martial traditions besides their own heritage. The Shakletian way of war had been born of vulnerability, fighting to survive in the shadow of powers mighty enough to contest the very planet against the forces of Unification. Now the power at their disposal went far beyond their previous bounds, and would only grow after total victory on Terra and the Pact of Mars.

The defining emphasis on motion remained; the XIV fielded large numbers of jetbikes and were enthusiastic adopters of the Land Speeder when the STC was unearthed. The Land Raider, in contrast, featured less in their arsenal than many other Legions. Combined with intensive use of gunships for their firepower, the XIV employed these in rapid attacks to wear down and fragment their enemies. Assault marines led the majority of infantry actions, closing quickly. Recon squads were expanded and deployed in open battle as often as the tasks for which they were named. Tactical squads remained the backbone of the Legion, but played less of a leading role compared to their cousins, deploying in the wake of initial strikes.

The XIV understood the value of weapons that would sow fear among their foes, and so their assault units often used volkites, flamers and melta guns for their terrifying effects. Lawrenz also exploited the intimidating spectacle of the Astartes themselves, placing mortal troops on display before unveiling his warriors.

Lawrenz's innovations aside, the Legion's organisation largely confirmed to the Principia Bellicosa. The XIV spent most of their early existence divided into six Battalions. Even after the reorganisation that came with Dhul'hasa, veterans from these bodies would retain fiercely tight bonds. These would later be credited as one of the main factors in ensuring the Legion’s unity and even survival during the Insurrection. As the space marines turned all their might upon one another, the lore of both Shakletia and Dhul'hasa would be called upon.

-----

Risen

By the time the XIV was ready for its first deployment, the conquest of the Sol System was complete, and the Legions of the Great Crusade had begun to take shape. Their initial campaigns were fought beside the Lightning Bearers and Blood Wolves, against some of the first Ork hordes encountered by the Imperium. What can be gleaned from the fragments suggests that Lawrenz and his warriors served with distinction, finding themselves suited to this kind of warfare.

Their following campaigns present a Legion growing steadily into its station as a force that could meet most threats on its own. Brooding and taciturn, they were never beloved of the common man as their cousins among the IV and VII were at this time, but they earned the respect of their cousins and the Army battalions who fought alongside them for their courage and tactical nous. The XIV still took no cognomen for themselves, but came to be known among the common people as the Tempest Blades, owing to their fondness for fast attacks with tanks, gunships and massed assault companies.

Records of the XIV’s activities at the turn of the Crusade’s first century are sparse, but it appears that they spent several years campaigning against the vile Sykkorat xenos in collaboration with another Legion, whose identity and actions were later redacted wholesale. What sources remain speak of fleets hewn from asteroids and “bone-clad slaughterers”, and the unusually aggressive recruitment drive that ensued implies heavy losses among the XIV. Lawrenz was known to speak of the penultimate battle in that campaign as the most gruelling engagement he had ever fought.

The only major battle that remains documented today is the celebrated Charge of Tarados, in which Lord Commander Knyval led the armoured elements and gunships of three Chapters and two Army regiments against the alien scourge. Though few knew it, the time was fast approaching when such large, overt actions would be almost unthinkable for the Legion.

-----

Amund Fyens, XIV Legion Assault Captain

A fifth generation inductee into the Legion, Amund Fyens first distinguished himself at Ohelyuk Tertius against the insectoid Veskad. Steadily climbing the ranks, he held command of the 33rd Company by the time of the Qarith Triumph. He survived the Day of Revelation and the sundering of the Legion, participating in the raid on the Han system which saw Azus rescued from captivity. His fate after that operation, however, is unknown.

Fyens’ armour shows tokens of Shakletian culture, particularly the fur cloak and hood worn over the helm on ceremonial occasions, which endured among Terran companies even after they adopted the Dune Serpent colours. Notably his sword is a standard Terran longblade, rather than the scimitars which would later become emblematic of the XIV under Azus. The Mk II plate, while popular among the early XIV, found little favour with the Primarch, and Terran companies were the only ones to use it in large numbers by the late Crusade period.

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Please forgive the late submission, I had computer issues last night.

 

I present for the consideration of the members of the Brotherhood of the Lost...

 

"A Debate Between Peers."

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Nomus waited patiently for his brother’s arrival in the Stateroom aboard the Elpis. The room was spacious, measuring at twelve point one nine two meters by six point zero nine six meters, with a ceiling height of four point five seven two meters. He had visually measured the room in the first few seconds after he had been left to wait by his brother’s equerry.

 

The room was well furnished without being lavish, with plenty of options for seating that could accommodate both private meetings like the one he had been invited to and full meetings of state or war councils. Dominating the center of the room was a massive circular table, cleverly designed to conceal the hololith projector within, which was surrounded by twenty chairs designed to hold the bulk of a Primarch comfortably.

 

Wine red banners sat in each of the room’s four corners, proudly displaying the symbol of the Wardens, while the Legion’s original banner from when they had been known as the Storm Riders, gifted to Alexandros by the Emperor on the day he had renamed of his legion, stood regally alongside the wall. Opposite the wall with the banner was a wall with three windows, one large one that reached to the ceiling flanked on either side by smaller windows, their zero point nine one four four meter reinforced armourplas glass keeping the cold of the void of space at bay. It was a feature he considered wholly illogical, yet he couldn’t help but appreciate the view they granted of the various superstructures that rode the spine of the Gloriana class battleship. He found himself wondering how often his brother had stood there looking out at the black expanse of space, contemplating their place in the galaxy.

 

His attention was drawn to a collection of trophies that adorned the room’s back wall and he moved towards it, noticing as he did the way the synth-wood panels on the walls muffled the noise his boots made on the room’s polished wooden floor. He noted with mild disapproval that the items on display had been set up in a way that was meant to be visually appealing rather than adhering to any kind of chronological order, forcing the viewer to survey the display in an all too haphazardly fashion, seemingly drawing his attention towards multiple items at the same time. He decided instead that it would be far more efficient to begin his review at the left most items on display and work his way to the right, and moved to focus his attention there.

 

The trophy in question was the two halves of a crown sitting on a red velvet cushion within a finely crafted wooden display box with a crystal display window on top. The crown had been gifted to Alexandros by the grateful population of Dellius Mons, who emboldened by his arrival and messages of peace and unity with the Imperium, had overthrown their despot of an Emperor and his corrupt government. Nomus aborted an intuitive upload by the network of redundant information about the compliance, having long since reviewed his brother’s past victories. He had done the same for all of his brothers, studying them in order to know everything there was to know; their strengths, their motivations, ideologies…weaknesses. He had grown increasingly perplexed by the lack of data available on some of his kin, Sorrowsworn Morro being foremost among them. He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his brother entering the room and found himself amused by the disappointment he registered at the realization that he would have to put his review of the trophies on hold.

 

“Nomus, brother, it’s wonderful to see you!” Alexandros exclaimed as he threw his arms around Nomus, who, unsure of what he was expected to do, stood awkwardly still. He quickly searched his data-banks in order to identify his brother’s strange action and soon found it.

 

The act of holding someone tightly in one’s arms, typically to express affection. Otherwise known as a “hug.”

 

Nomus relaxed slightly and stiffly patted his brother on the back, feeling embarrassed by his unfamiliarity with the more physical aspects of social interactions. It was a deficiency he felt he would need to address at a later time. Eventually Alexandros broke off the embrace, which had really only lasted a few seconds, though he maintained his hold on Nomus’ shoulders.

 

“It’s been too long.” He sighed, smiling warmly.

 

“It has been exactly two standard Terran years, one hundred and twenty-three days, twelve hours, thirty minutes and ten seconds since we were last within each others physical proximity.” Nomus stated matter-of-factly before noticing the look on his brother’s amused face and adding. “But your statement was accurate, and unfortunately long span of time has passed.”

 

“Right,” Alexandros chuckled in amusement before his eyes widened in realization and he released Nomus’ shoulders. “Ah forgive me, I’m being quite rude.” He said as he bowed his head slightly in apology before indicating that Nomus should follow him as he made his way towards a pair of chairs that sat in front of the largest of the three windows.

 

“Please, sit,” he smiled as he sat in one of the chairs and adopted a proper but relaxed posture. Nomus followed his brother’s example and sat, though his posture was comparatively more rigid.

 

“Can I offer you refreshment? Recaf, Bourbon perhaps?” Alexandros asked as he pushed a button concealed in the arm of his chair, summoning a well-dressed servant from an adjacent room.

 

“Water would be sufficient.” Nomus replied, studying his brother as Alexandros placed their order with the servant.

 

Alexandros Darshan VonSalim was a great man, though the same could arguably be said about each of his brothers. Yet of all of his brothers Nomus found he respected Alexandros the most. Whether this was due to their shared belief in the need to advance mankind, or if it was due to the effort his brother had made to make Nomus feel accepted after his discovery by the Emperor, he was unsure.

 

“How goes your campaign?” Alex asked, drawing Nomus from his thoughts. Nomus blinked as the data was pulled from the network and the numbers flashed across his vision.

 

“The Steel Legion currently has an effectiveness rating of ninety-two point five percent. Our success to failure ratio is twenty-eight to zero and overall losses during the campaign have been well within acceptable casualty projections.” Alex nodded attentively as Nomus continued. “Additionally, the most recent operation by my progenitors required aggressive compliance against a considerably sized contingent of the orkinoid species.”

 

“And you were victorious?” Alex asked with a smirk.

 

Nomus raised an eyebrow at what seemed a question already answered before replying. “Yes, the operation was a success, though our losses were higher than projected which resulted in the seven point five drop in effectiveness I indicated previously.”

 

“Of course you were brother, else you wouldn’t be here.” Alex laughed. “I was merely joking with you.”

 

“Ah yes, a joke,” Nomus nodded in realization as his brother continued to laugh. “A thing that someone says to cause amusement of laughter.” He cocked his head slightly. “Though I would present you with a query.”

 

“Please do,” Alex replied while still chuckling. “What is it?”

 

“What is humorous about the losses sustained by my legion?” Nomus asked in a deadpan voice, his expression neutral. The drink Alexandros had been taking from his glass of bourbon caught in his throat and he began to sputter and cough before quickly recovering and looking aghast at his brother.

 

“Forgive me Nomus, I didn’t mean to imply that the loss of your sons was humorous.” Alex began to apologize before noticing the slowly growing smile on Nomus’ face.

 

“I believe I understand this ‘joking’ around,” Nomus smiled as Alexandros smirked ruefully. “I find it generates a positive stimulus, I believe I will attempt to recreate this stimulus on a more frequent basis.”

 

“Yes, it does feel good to laugh, were that we could find more opportunities to do so.” Alex chucked as he turned to look out the window as Nomus’ flagship came into view. He grew quiet, his expression turning pensive as he changed subjects. “I too have encountered increasingly difficult operations as of late, ones that have required me to use my powers much more in order to ensure victory.”

 

“Your powers,” Nomus began slowly as he studied his brother’s profile, debating wither or not to ask the question that was on his mind. “You are referring to your utilization of the energies from the plane of reality known as the Warp?”

 

“I am,” Alexandros replied, turning to look his brother in the eye. “Among other things by utilizing the Warp as you say I am able to divine the best course of action to take in order to both protect my sons as well as claim victory. For example, my gift of telepathy tells me you have a question about my powers.”

 

Nomus was discomforted by his brother’s offhand perusal of his mind but since he had decided to satisfy his desire to understand the Warp, on which there was a surprisingly extensive lack of concrete data; he choose to ignore the minor violation of his thoughts.

 

“Would you explain the Warp to me?” He asked after a moment’s pause. Alex refilled his glass but didn’t drink any of the bourbon as he leaned back into his chair, looking hard at Nomus while he considered how best to explain.

 

“Were that that were so easy,” He said. “But I will try. The Warp is like a storm wild sea made of pure emotion and thought. It is a place of bright light and absolute darkness over a canvas painted in such a riot of colors it defies comprehension, almost as if by design. It is the font from which Psykers like me draw our power.” He paused, carefully considering his next words. “But just as life is dangerous in this reality, so too does the Warp present its own dangers. Great creatures of pure thought and emotion stalk the Warp. Most are simple predators, easily fended off by those who know how to protect themselves; but there are other more cunning dissidents of the Warp that tempt the unwary, promising power and delivering only damnation. Only by being mindful of this danger and striving to understand it and control our powers can we utilize the Warp’s energies safely.”

 

Nomus sat in silence for a time, watching as his flagship matched the speed of the Elpis as the two colossal ships drifted through the void, their escorts darting around them like the shoals of Nano-fish that inhabited the few oceans of his home world as he considered his brothers words. Eventually he looked back towards Alexandros.

 

“One must conclude based on your description of the myriad dangers of continuing to utilize the energies of the Warp, that its continued use is not only illogical, but foolhardy; and that we should endeavor to cease its utilization immediately.”

 

“Such a thing is simply not currently possible brother,” Alexandros sighed, smiling as he set down his glass, preparing for the debate to come. “We need to the Warp to travel and communicate across the vast distances that separate us and have no other means to do so. To simply cease utilization of the Warp is simply not an option available to us.”

 

“Yet the Xenos species known as the Eldar travel just as efficiently, if not more efficiently through the use of their Webway,” Nomus countered, rising to the opportunity for an intellectual debate between peers. “Were we to find a way to access it surely we could do the same.”

 

“What of communication?” Alexandros rebutted. “Without the Astropathic Choirs to send messages through the Warp we would yet again be cut off from the many planets we’ve so recently reunited. It would be the beginning of a second Age of Darkness.”

 

“My network can travel the vast distances just as effectively, as and sometimes faster than those messages sent via choir,” Nomus replied. “With a considerably smaller margin for error. Establishing relay stations throughout the Imperium would only increase the network’s range and effectiveness as a means to communicate.”

 

“What of Psykers like me? Like some of our brothers?” Alexandros asked with an eyebrow arched in challenge. “Even our father is a Psyker of no small skill. What would you have us do in this galaxy of yours?"

 

“It is as you say brother,” Nomus answered calmly. “Understanding leads to control, control leads to discipline. It is only logical then that discipline could lead to abstinence.”

 

“You would have us simply abstain from using our powers?” Alexandros laughed. “I’d love to see you explain to Andezo that he must adapt to being truly blind or to see Icarion’s reaction at being told not to use his gifts anymore.”

 

“Would you comply if it were father’s decree?” Nomus asked through a smile, playing his trump card to end the friendly debate and claim victory. Alexandros mirth quickly gave way to solemnness and he sighed in resignation.

 

“Were it father’s wish, and only if.” Alexandros replied, tipping his glass to Nomus in defeat. "Then yes, without hesitation."

 

 

C&C is welcome and would be appreciated.

[simison]

About to leave for a con, so I will only address the one critical issue. I think Raktra's sight is classified as just his 'gift', like Corax's invisibility. Furthermore, I was under the impression that he and his sons did everything they could to keep it secret from the other Legions.

 

Actually, would that level of secrecy be possible with the Shepherds?

[Sigismund229]

So, to start off the second fluff challenge...

 

The Initiation

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The sons of Dul'hasa had always loved the shadows, Idir reflected. Secrecy came naturally to them, for the deserts of their home were vast, lonely places, forcing one to spend enormous amounts of time with no one but yourself for company. This, in turn, led to an introverted nature that was ill suited to a place within the enormous, sprawling, Imperial bureaucracy where everything needed to be noted down, verified and approved before action was taken. Some legions coped with such constraints, Idir could only guess how. For some he understood why, those such as the Godslayers whose operations required extensive supply lines to ensure that supplies could keep flowing in no matter what, but not how. Those who actively immersed themselves in it, the Crimson Lions and Halycon Wardens chiefly, he could not even begin to fathom why. Were they insane? Did they not see or feel the lead weights they had attached to their feet? How could they not? Idir shook his head in bemusement as he always did when he turned his mind to the matter. He simply couldn’t understand it, no matter how hard he tried.

 

Behind him, Idir heard a sound, like fingernails or claws scratching on metal. Whirling around, he had his scimitar drawn and in a low guard, his eyes looking out for the source of the noise from underneath his cloak’s cowl, scanning back along the adamantium corridor he had come down. He saw nothing. Loosing the breath he had been holding, he turned back around, sheathing his scimitar and wrapping the black cloak back around his armour. Secrecy he thought again and grinned. The legion was soaked through with it, incapable of taking anything at face value as other legions did. 

 

Like all legions it was a brotherhood. However, the sons of Dhul’hasa did not open up easily, not even to each other. They tended to be guarded, silent individuals, contained within themselves and secretive to a fault and so tended to appear as distant as the Steel Legion when compared with the louder brotherhoods of the Iron Bears and Void Eagles. However, unlike the Steel Legion, this distance was not a mirage. In the one hundred and six years he had been a legionary, Idir had only ever known four brothers whom he had counted as genuine friends and of them Idir had only trusted one enough to reveal a fraction of the secrets he carried with him. When Idir died, those secrets would die with him.

 

Looking around at his surroundings, illuminated only by the dim light of the glow globe he carried, Idir allowed himself a small smile at his surroundings. This was not the usual place a legionary in the upper echelons of his legion’s command structure would find himself. Deep in the bowels of the (), it was a corridor of rusting metal and water that reached up to Idir’s ankles, with Idir’s sense constantly kept alert by the scratching of rats running along the pipes. Quite how the rats and this much water got on there, Idir did not know nor did he wish to. He preferred the secrecy of it. Secrecy allowed the imagination to roam free, whereas truth bound it down to a world of cold, hard facts reducing the world to nothing but a dull run of numbers and data with little room for thought or spirit. Such freedoms comforted Idir even as the Imperial Truth shrank his world to a smaller and smaller screen of numbers.

 

Walking along the corridor, Idir eventually came to a door. It looked unsuspicious at first glance. Any unaugmented human or son of another legion would walk past it without giving it a second glance. But a son of the XIV^th knew to look closer. Two pipes, one either side of the door, ended in sculpted serpent’s heads as they went into the wall. Recognizing the door for what it was, Idir approached it and withdrew a bottle from his belt, pouring a small number of the granules contained into his hand within. Mila. A wonderful substance from Dhul’hasa, one which the legion’s techmarines had perfected the art of imbuing with different smells, undetectable to normal human sense but obvious as sunlight off water to a legionary.

 

Sure enough, within moments, the door had been opened and Idir stepped inside, nodding his thanks to the figure who had opened it. The chamber he now found himself inside was dark, as the corridor outside had been. However, where the corridor had been dark due to negligence, this chamber was dark by purpose, illuminated only by a few sticks of burning incense in the corners of the chamber. Before Idir, six figures knelt on both knees upon simple rugs after the fashion of the nomads of Dul’hasa. Like Idir, these seven figures were hidden by their black cloaks, hiding all but their lower faces although the bulk of their armour was still evident through the cloth. While he couldn’t see their faces, Idir didn’t need to to recognize the warriors he stood before. It was impossible for any legionary of the Fourteenth not to recognize them.

 

As was customary, Idir knelt in front of them and inclined his head in respect, forming the aquila across his chest as he did so, lowering his hood. This was a ritual action more than anything else, ritually granting the warriors in front of him power over him by revealing his own identity as their stayed, theoretically, concealed.

 

“You are Idir Al’Wahiwatis?” asked one of the figures, his voice carrying a weight of wisdom and history that Idir had only ever heard in one legionary of the Fourteenth: Jon Lawrenz, the former legion master. Many Dhul’hasan legionaries had fleeting, ethereal voices, as if their voices were trying to drift off to some other place, as free as the souls of the legionary from which they came. Even the voice of the primarch was a shadowy whisper. By contrast, the legion master’s voice was strong, striding, wise: the voice of a leader.

 

“I am” Idir answered. Idir of the Ninety first. The ninety first. Wahiwatis in Dhul’hasan. His company. His tribe. Even the mention of it made Idir’s heart fill with pride, a rare emotion for a legionary of the Fourteenth. As it did so, Idir flicked his eyes left and right looking for the figure whose presence he could feel but not see. It was like seeing a shadow behind you but not being able to see the source of the shadow, at once irritating and unnerving.

 

“You were the chosen successor of Salihmali Nafasnari Al’Shaba ben Alrrabeshr” Lawrenz continued. Upon hearing this, Idir’s breath caught in his throat. This was why the legion had gathered on the blindside of Lira’s third moon. He had been chosen to succeed Salihmali, fallen to the eldar on Roymar, as mali, or chieftain, of the Shabahashd. The northern horde. The highest rank a legionary of the Fourteenth could hope to gain. “Would you honour your chieftain’s last wish?” asked Lawrenz finally.

 

“I would” whispered Idir.

 

“Who here will vouch that this legionary will do honour to Salihmali’s legacy?” asked Lawrenz to the figures seated around him.

 

“I will” rumbled a figure on the far left “This is my bond” he stated bluntly, placing a curved scimitar in the middle of the semi-circle. Looking at it, Idir recognized it as the blade of Zulfiq Fal’uak Al’Shamshir ben Alrrabeshr, commander of the Fourteenth’s shamshir elite.

 

“As will I” said another, his voice barely higher than a whisper “This is my bond” he stated, his voice almost drifting away as if swept away on a non-existent wind as he finished his sentence, placing a bejewelled dagger next to Al’Shamshir’s scimitar. It was a small by comparison and its handle covered with jewels yet appearances could be deceptive. Idir had seen the weapon used once and that had been more than enough to convince him of the effectiveness of the poison in which the blade was covered. It was the dagger of Tariqmali Afeahamraa Al’Algha ben Alrrabeshr, mali of the western horde.

 

“Are there any who would oppose his right to rule and stake their objection in a trial by combat here and now?” asked Lawrenz, a question which was answered with silence and shaking heads.

 

“Very well then” spoke a voice from the shadows, a whisper that carried all the danger of a poisoned goblet “Idirmali, as is custom, you must take up a regal name. What shall it be?”

 

Idir paused. His regal name. All of the mali had one, a name which they had taken up upon being bestowed their privileged rank. Tariqmali had taken the name of the serpent whose poison he used to envenom his blades, the red viper. The legion’s chief librarian, Yusuf Aistiralsm Al’Sahir ben Alrrabeshr, had taken on the name Aistiralsm, poison breather, in commemoration of his decades of service in the destroyer cadre. Then, after several moments it came to him.

 

“Sharri’larramadi”. He whose blade turns others to ashes.

 

Emerging into the light for the first time, Azus Bahmat allowed himself a small smile. It was not a pleasant thing as some primarch’s smiles were. It was an assassin’s smile, the last smile you would see before a poisoned dagger was plunged into your ribs. He then said “So be it. Let the name of Idir Al’Wahiwatis be carried away on the wind and buried beneath the sand and may the name of Idirmali Sharri’larramadi ben Alrrabeshr live forever on the winds of the world and tongues of men”.

 

To be both prequalled and continued

[bluntblade]

  On 4/2/2017 at 1:49 PM, simison said:

About to leave for a con, so I will only address the one critical issue. I think Raktra's sight is classified as just his 'gift', like Corax's invisibility. Furthermore, I was under the impression that he and his sons did everything they could to keep it secret from the other Legions.

 

Actually, would that level of secrecy be possible with the Shepherds?

The Shepherds don't care for hiding it, and in any case it was observed and studied intensively by the Emperor's scientists when the VII was undergoing its Alpha Phase. Perhaps the Berserkers possess it to a heightened degree, and conceal that detail.

[bluntblade]

Does my mention of redacted stuff work, by the way? It's meant to infer that the XIV were fighting alongside the Wolves - I like the idea of a minor gap in the records here and there (which isn't to say that every other Legion's history should include a big gap, although another one for the Wolves somewhere, maybe the Lions, could work, and one that's implicitly the Sons fighting with the Predators would be nice).

[simison]

  On 4/2/2017 at 9:37 PM, bluntblade said:

Does my mention of redacted stuff work, by the way? It's meant to infer that the XIV were fighting alongside the Wolves - I like the idea of a minor gap in the records here and there (which isn't to say that every other Legion's history should include a big gap, although another one for the Wolves somewhere, maybe the Lions, could work, and one that's implicitly the Sons fighting with the Predators would be nice).

 

It sounds workable, just keep it in moderation. Reading through the Space Wolves in Inferno, it occurs to me that the Space Wolves going missing isn't as hard as I once thought it was. In canon, the Legion often had numerous battles whose records were sealed or purged, and they weren't widely liked. Many observers may simply think that a foe in the darkness got the better of the Wolves are that they are now completely given over to some secret mission. Some observers may say 'good riddance' and leave it at that. 

[bluntblade]

Yeah, this is going to be at most one of two veiled references to the Wolves. Does it work in what I've written here?

[simison]

  On 4/3/2017 at 8:10 PM, bluntblade said:

Yeah, this is going to be at most one of two veiled references to the Wolves. Does it work in what I've written here?

 

"...of a battle[,] any tech..."

 

"... of forges[,] and had no..."

 

"...the Unspeakable King[,] the Shakletians..."

 

"...support them, it while they..." (This part seems confused and is part of a run-on sentence.)

 

I thought Rollon was the first Legion Master?

 

"...previous bounds[,] and would..."

 

To answer your original question, yes, I think you handled the Space Wolf reference quite nicely.

[bluntblade]

Thanks. Err, Rollon for the III? Forgot to clarify that

[simison]

Yes, the 3rd. Double-check with Sig, though.

[bluntblade]

Take two:

 

+++++

 

Ghosts of the White Plains

The history of the XIV Legion begins in the latter years of the Unification Wars, in the borderlands between Orioc and the remnants of the Pan-Pacific Empire, among other powers. On the salt plains and ice drifts of the Shakletian Wastes, a nomadic culture had evolved to survive in the shadow of far more powerful neighbours. They sheltered in subterranean locales, always ready to flee at a moment’s notice, and they traveled in small, ragtag convoys of vehicles.

 

Circumstances dictated their way of war, with an emphasis on guerilla tactics. Shelters, once abandoned, became traps for overconfident invaders, as did the war machine graveyards that littered the plains. Often the largely featureless salt flats were exploited for their potential to disorient intruders. The most prized trick of all was to direct one incursion against another, knowing that the Shakletians were viewed as quite insignificant threats. At the end of a battle, any tech that could be made to function was salvaged, and so the nomads acquired a strange melange of weapons and vehicles.

 

However, they never had an opportunity to expand their domain to a significant degree. Narthan Dume and his rivals simply had armies too vast and too powerful to guard any fortress or border against. Moreover, they lacked substantial manufactoria and had no way of matching the gene-brute soldiers used by the barbarian kingdoms. When the Emperor finally toppled the Unspeakable King the Shakletians waited to see what would occur, wary of exposing themselves to attack by an ascendant power. Orioc, indeed, was emboldened, and its cultists of the Eternal Dirge launched a fresh wave of assaults against Dume’s old vassals even as the forces of Unity advanced towards them.

 

The first Imperial forces to reach Shakletia made much the same mistakes as their enemies had, and the Thunder Warriors suffered far steeper losses than had been expected. The nascent III Legion arrived to support them, but while they made substantial advances, their casualty rates too came as an unpleasant surprise. To be sure, the III would have achieved total conquest of the region within a few months, but Rollon, their first Legion Master, decided that another course of action was more desirable. Shakletia had little value except as a stepping-stone to Orioc, and the nomads were plainly no friends to the Dirge cultists. Over the objections of the Thunder Warriors, Rollon argued for an attempt at negotiation, even an alliance.

 

The Emperor saw the wisdom of Rollon’s counsel, and made His way to the theatre to meet with the nomads. The Shakletian war leader, it transpired, was a young man named John Lawrenz. Orphaned by an Orioc slaving foray, he had grown up with a fierce hatred for the cultists, tempered only by his concern for the people he fought for. Many of the strategies that had stalled the Thunder Warriors were of his devising, and the Emperor recognised the potential for Lawrenz and his men if they could be elevated to the power of the space marines.

 

The terms he offered were simple: the Shakletians would serve as outriders to His forces, and the Emperor would destroy the last of the tyrants who had forced this hardship on them for generations. The importance of the latter can hardly be overstated, as the Shakletians’ existence had been moulded by those who sought to rule them even when they defied would-be conquerors. Plenty and comfort were luxuries they had never enjoyed; if the Emperor proved true to His word, their horizons would broaden exponentially.

 

The course of the war against the Dirge cultists of Orioc is of course well known, although the Shakletian role in it is less so. They served admirably, as they did with the III Legion against the last of Narthan Dume’s viceroys and vassals. When the Emperor met with Lawrenz again, on the eve of His departure for the final warzones around Arrakis, He made a new offer. The men of Shakletia would form the XIV Legion Astartes, carrying the light of Unity beyond Terra. In return for his people’s right to claim several of Orioc’s frontier settlements, Lawrenz and the Shakletian elders accepted.

 

Lawrenz and the first captains drew on several martial traditions besides their own heritage. The Shakletian way of war had been born of vulnerability, fighting to survive in the shadow of powers mighty enough to contest the very planet against the forces of Unification. Now the power at their disposal went far beyond their previous bounds. It would only grow after total victory on Terra and the Pact of Mars.

 

The defining emphasis on motion remained; the XIV fielded large numbers of jetbikes and were enthusiastic adopters of the Land Speeder when the STC was unearthed. The Land Raider, in contrast, featured less in their arsenal than many other Legions. Combined with intensive use of gunships for their firepower, the XIV employed these in rapid attacks to wear down and fragment their enemies. Assault marines led the majority of infantry actions, closing quickly. Recon squads were expanded and deployed in open battle as often as the tasks for which they were named. Tactical squads remained the backbone of the Legion, but played less of a leading role compared to their cousins, deploying in the wake of initial strikes.

 

The XIV understood the value of weapons that would sow fear among their foes, and so their assault units often used volkites, flamers and melta guns for their terrifying effects. Lawrenz also exploited the intimidating spectacle of the Astartes themselves, placing mortal troops on display before unveiling his warriors.

 

Lawrenz's innovations aside, the Legion's organisation largely confirmed to the Principia Bellicosa. The XIV spent most of their early existence divided into six Battalions. Even after the reorganisation that came with Dhul'hasa, veterans from these bodies would retain fiercely tight bonds. These would later be credited as one of the main factors in ensuring the Legion’s unity and even survival during the Insurrection. As the space marines turned all their might upon one another, the lore of both Shakletia and Dhul'hasa would be called upon.

 

-----

 

Risen

 

By the time the XIV was ready for its first deployment, the conquest of the Sol System was complete, and the Legions of the Great Crusade had begun to take shape. Their initial campaigns were fought beside the Lightning Bearers and Blood Wolves, against some of the first Ork hordes encountered by the Imperium. What can be gleaned from the fragments suggests that Lawrenz and his warriors served with distinction, finding themselves suited to this kind of warfare.

 

Their following campaigns present a Legion growing steadily into its station as a force that could meet most threats on its own. Brooding and taciturn, they were never beloved of the common man as their cousins among the IV and VII were at this time, but they earned the respect of their cousins and the Army battalions who fought alongside them for their courage and tactical nous. The XIV still took no cognomen for themselves, but came to be known among the common people as the Tempest Blades, owing to their fondness for fast attacks with tanks, gunships and massed assault companies.

 

Records of the XIV’s activities at the turn of the Crusade’s first century are sparse, but it appears that they spent several years campaigning against the vile Sykkorat xenos in collaboration with another Legion, whose identity and actions were later redacted wholesale. What sources remain speak of fleets hewn from asteroids and “bone-clad slaughterers”, and the unusually aggressive recruitment drive that ensued implies heavy losses among the XIV. Lawrenz was known to speak of the penultimate battle in that campaign as the most gruelling engagement he had ever fought.

 

The only major battle that remains documented today is the celebrated Charge of Tarados, in which Lord Commander Knyval led the armoured elements and gunships of three Chapters and two Army regiments against the alien scourge. Though few knew it, the time was fast approaching when such large, overt actions would be almost unthinkable for the Legion.

[simison]

Nomus + Alex piece by Blind

 

"...invited to[,] and full meetings..."

 

"...was surrounded by twenty chairs designed to hold the bulk of a Primarch comfortably..."

 

(Actually, when would this piece be? The following conversation sounds like this is only their second or third meeting, so, doesn't that imply the last Primarchs haven't been found yet?)

 

"...the symbol of the Wardens while the Legion’s banner, gifted to Alexandros by the Emperor on the day he had taken control of his legion..."

 

(That 'while' should that be 'with'? Also, there seems to be some ambiguity here. I like the idea of the Emperor giving a banner as a gift, but when Alex first takes command, the legion is still known as the Storm Riders.)

 

Opposite the wall with the banner...contemplating their place in the galaxy.

 

(I like this paragraph, though I'm confused on what the proper protocol is for writing out measurements.)

 

The trophy in question was the two halves of a crown sitting on a red velvet cushion within a finely crafted wooden display box with a crystal display window on top. The crown had been gifted to Alexandros by the grateful population of Dellius Mons...

 

(*makes a note to include Dellius Mons in the future*)

 

 

He had grown increasingly perplexed by the lack of data available on some of his kin, Sorrowsworn Morro being foremost among them. 

 

(I chuckled. Even if it was unintentional, this was good meta-humor.)

 

Nomus stated matter-of-factly before noticing the look on his brother’s face and adding. “But your statement was accurate, and unfortunately long span of time has passed.”

 

(I'd add 'amused' between 'brother's face', but that's just me.)

 

"[Whether] this was..."

 

"...lack of concrete date; he choose to ignore the minor violation of his thoughts." (Date or data?)

 

“Yet the Xenos species known as the Eldar travel just as efficiently, is not more efficiently through the use of the Webway,” Nomus countered, rising to the opportunity for an intellectual debate between peers. “An avenue our father seeks to exploit.”

 

(Actually, is this public knowledge? Not the Webway per se, but the Emperor's interest.)

 

“What of communication?” Alexandros rebutted. “Without the Astropathic Choirs to send messages through the Warp we would yet again be cut off from the many planets we’ve so recently reunited. It would be the beginning of a second Age of Darkness.”

 

(Wouldn't the Webway resolve the communication issue too?)

 

"And I don’t expect Raktra would be particularly pleased to have his gift taken from him.”

 

(Raktra's gift isn't a psychic 'spell')

 

[simison]

Initiation

 

"...nything else, [ritually] granting the..." (Ritual is used twice in this sentence, I'd get rid of this one.)

 

Capitalize 'Eldar'. It's a race name, therefore a proper noun.

 

Likewise, I believe 'Mali' probably should be capitalized since it is also a cultural proper noun, like how the Harbinger 'Sentinel' is always capitalized. 

 

Finally, kudos to you Sig for coming up with all of those names that make my tongue twist just looking at them. 

[Sigismund229]

  On 4/4/2017 at 3:22 AM, simison said:

Initiation

 

"...nything else, [ritually] granting the..." (Ritual is used twice in this sentence, I'd get rid of this one.)

 

Capitalize 'Eldar'. It's a race name, therefore a proper noun.

 

Likewise, I believe 'Mali' probably should be capitalized since it is also a cultural proper noun, like how the Harbinger 'Sentinel' is always capitalized.

 

Finally, kudos to you Sig for coming up with all of those names that make my tongue twist just looking at them.

Strange, I thought they were relatively straightfoward to pronounce compared to the clusters of consonants you get in gaelic names. Although according to my not-in-school language teachers I"m unusually good at pronouncing foreign words so maybe that's it

[bluntblade]

I think a good policy might be to chop off a syllable or two for most words over four.

[Doctor Perils]

BTW, which of the 1st challenge articles are green-lighted to be transfered over to the wiki?

[TheBlindPrimarch]

  On 4/4/2017 at 2:43 AM, simison said:

Nomus + Alex piece by Blind

 

"...invited to[,] and full meetings..."

 

"...was surrounded by twenty chairs designed to hold the bulk of a Primarch comfortably..."

 

(Actually, when would this piece be? The following conversation sounds like this is only their second or third meeting, so, doesn't that imply the last Primarchs haven't been found yet?)

 

"...the symbol of the Wardens while the Legion’s banner, gifted to Alexandros by the Emperor on the day he had taken control of his legion..."

 

(That 'while' should that be 'with'? Also, there seems to be some ambiguity here. I like the idea of the Emperor giving a banner as a gift, but when Alex first takes command, the legion is still known as the Storm Riders.)

 

Opposite the wall with the banner...contemplating their place in the galaxy.

 

(I like this paragraph, though I'm confused on what the proper protocol is for writing out measurements.)

 

The trophy in question was the two halves of a crown sitting on a red velvet cushion within a finely crafted wooden display box with a crystal display window on top. The crown had been gifted to Alexandros by the grateful population of Dellius Mons...

 

(*makes a note to include Dellius Mons in the future*)

 

 

He had grown increasingly perplexed by the lack of data available on some of his kin, Sorrowsworn Morro being foremost among them. 

 

(I chuckled. Even if it was unintentional, this was good meta-humor.)

 

Nomus stated matter-of-factly before noticing the look on his brother’s face and adding. “But your statement was accurate, and unfortunately long span of time has passed.”

 

(I'd add 'amused' between 'brother's face', but that's just me.)

 

"[Whether] this was..."

 

"...lack of concrete date; he choose to ignore the minor violation of his thoughts." (Date or data?)

 

“Yet the Xenos species known as the Eldar travel just as efficiently, is not more efficiently through the use of the Webway,” Nomus countered, rising to the opportunity for an intellectual debate between peers. “An avenue our father seeks to exploit.”

 

(Actually, is this public knowledge? Not the Webway per se, but the Emperor's interest.)

 

“What of communication?” Alexandros rebutted. “Without the Astropathic Choirs to send messages through the Warp we would yet again be cut off from the many planets we’ve so recently reunited. It would be the beginning of a second Age of Darkness.”

 

(Wouldn't the Webway resolve the communication issue too?)

 

"And I don’t expect Raktra would be particularly pleased to have his gift taken from him.”

 

(Raktra's gift isn't a psychic 'spell')

 

Many thanks for the review Sim! In order of your comments:

-Change made

 

-I'm honestly not sure when to place this, but the intent was that it was meant to be one of their earlier meetings(before everything goes to pot). As far as the twenty chairs, I figured the Primarchs knew how many of them there were so it seemed practical that if Alex was going to have a seat for all of them he'd have placed enough chairs, regardless of wither or not it had a current occupant.

 

-It should and was intended to be 'while'...There was supposed to be a comma before it. As far as the banner goes, it could be the banner used by the Storm Riders before they became the Wardens...what was the Storm Riders colors? I'll make the changes to reflect that.

 

-I'm glad you like it, I figured with Nomus' calculating mind things like calculating the measurements of rooms and knowing the thickness of vulnerabilities like windows on space ships might occur subconsciously. If not as a result of data in-load from his connection with the Network. As far as how to write the numbers out...I prefer to white them out using words as opposed to numbers because that's what I remember being taught. (At some point in my life.)

 

-I had thought about referencing your "Second Son" fiction but since there were multiple conflicts in that I decided against it. I'm glad you like what I came up with, looking forward to how you expand on it.

 

-Oh if was definitely intentional, happy to hear it got a laugh from someone.

 

-changes made

 

-changes made

 

-It's meant to be data, changes made

 

-It might not be public knowledge, but I don't see why the Primarchs wouldn't know about it...and even if it wasn't widely known to them, this is Nomus we're talking about...

 

-Not actually sure in this regard...I don't think the Eldar use the Webway to communicate, but since I'm not a Xenos loving traitor I wouldn't know for sure.

 

-No, but it is effected by the Warp correct? If the Emperor wanted all connection to the Warp cut off it could be assumed that he'd want to curtail every and all manifestations of the Warp. In this case by fitting Raktra with some kind of inhibitor.

[simison]

The Storm Riders were simply plain grey as all of the Legions were before they found their Primarchs. I think it could still work, but emphasize that the banner is given on the day that Alexandros renames the Legion to the Wardens. 

 

Except that's the one thing that the Emperor deliberately keeps secret from the Primarchs. He doesn't want anyone, save for Malcador, to know about it. Alex doesn't learn about it until a decade later, and that's because he accidentally runs into it. So, while Nomus can know about the Eldar Webway, he shouldn't know about the Emperor's plans for it without a suitable explanation. Also "...if not more efficiently..."

 

I'm not sure either, I think it'd work well as a near instantaneous messenger service though. Hm, how do the Eldar handle long-range communication?

 

Not per se. It's a bonus ability from being made by the Emperor. Every non-Psyker, non-Pariah Primarch seems to have ended with one supernatural ability on their own. None of those supernatural abilities are channeled through the Warp. So, placing a Warp Inhibitor on Raktra wouldn't affect his perception ability at all.

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Final (I hope) changes made:

 

-Made a minor adjustment to the banner description.

 

-Changed Nomus' line about the Webway to supposition as opposed to factual statement.

 

-Content about communication left as is due to lack of understanding of Xenos techno-heretical gobbly-goop.

 

-Removed the line about Raktra's gift, per compelling arguments.

 

(I think I'm going to aim for something shorter for this month...)

[TheBlindPrimarch]

"Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!"

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Predicate Aauolas surveyed the men and women of the Holy Illuminator Cult from his raised position on top of his customized crawler, its six mechanical legs hissing with escaping pressure as the supplicant hard-wired to the controls steered it to the front of the assembly in mindless obedience to his commands.

He gripped the course wood of the pulpit as the crawler stopped and turned suddenly, almost throwing him until it stopped and facing the audience.

‘I’ll have that engineer turned into a Screaming Icon for that.’ He thought to himself in annoyance. He glowered at the group before him. Sixty of the most highly trained and equipped Illuminators the Cult had to offer, each unquestioning in their fanaticism and obedience to the Bringers of the Light, the higher echelon of the Cult of which he was a member. They fidgeted in anticipation of his sermon, biting at the proverbial bit to be unleashed to bring the Light to these strange invaders from the stars.

 

‘The Light burns Anuel, the portents are good for a hunt this night.’ The Predicate grinned wickedly as he looked into the night sky. ‘The heretics will not be able to hide from our light.’

 

He took a deep breath of the crisp night air.

 

“Brothers and Sisters of the Light! We come here this night to conduct the holiest of crusades; we come here to bring the Light to those who would hide in the darkness like demons. Vile, debased heretics who have the audacity to deny the Light, to denounce it in the presence of the Holiest of Holies, the Hierophant, and yet cower in the wilds when we declare their sins and demand supplication so that their souls might be redeemed in service to the Light and its Light Bringers!” He cried out, as his arms rose towards the heavens.

 

“The Hierophant himself has sent you here, wishes you to bring the Light to these foul invaders so that we might illuminate them in the cleansing fires of redemption. He has decided, in his boundless mercy, to grant these insolent outsiders the chance for deliverance from their sins and has charged us with this sacred duty. So I ask you, who among you will bring the sinners into the Light?”

 

“I will!” One of the fanatics in the front screamed in reply as she bared her chest to reveal the mark of the light that she’d had burned onto her skin.

 

“I will bring them the Light!” Called out another as he brandished a similar scar on the right side of his face.

 

“Choose me Predicate!”

 

“I am worthy Bringer, choose me!”

 

The Predicate smiled as the fanatics clamored for his blessings, basking in their well-deserved adoration. The din from the crowding growing to such a volume that he nearly didn’t hear the warning from the back of the assembly of a rider’s approach. The rider rode into the group, a banner of the Illuminators held stiffly in his hand, and stopped in the middle of the congregation and said nothing.

 

The crowd stood in silence, staring at the interloper in their midst until finally Aauolas had had enough.

 

“Hail son of the Light, what message do you bring us?” He asked, wearing a false smile to hide his annoyance. The rider, and in fact his mount as well, remained silent and continued to stand as still as a statue. The Predicate would see that the rider’s unresponsiveness was beginning to unnerve his flock and began to feel the mood shift. Bristling from what he perceived as an insult to his authority he slammed his hands down onto his pulpit, causing a loud bang. “You insolent cur! You come here, interrupting my sermon and our holy work, and have the gall to insult me by remaining silent when I demand that you speak! What is the meaning of this?!”

 

Still the rider sat in silence, and now enraged, Aauolas pointed an accusatory finger at the rider and in a shrill scream that quivered with the fear that had gripped his forces and was now beginning to consume him as well, cried out,

 

“Tear that heretic from the saddle and rip his head from his unholy body!”

 

The fanatics instinctively complied and began to pull the rider from the mount, only to have the rider come apart in finely cut cubes of meat, as did his mount. From within the rider four canisters fell and a green mist immediately began to hiss out from within them, covering the Illuminators. It didn’t take long for the corrosive agents in the gas to begin their work and soon the entire assembly, who had moments ago been muttering in confusion upon their target literally falling to pieces, began to scream in abject terror and agony.

 

“What is this?” Aauolas stuttered in fear, backing away from the green mist that was slowly crawling up and over the crawler, causing the supplicant to convulse as the gas did its work. He screamed as an Illuminator pulled herself up onto the platform, her skin melting off her face like fat off a bone over fire. Her eyes were clouded over, blinded by the flesh eating gases, yet he could see the desperation in them still.

 

“Help me Bringer!” She screamed. “Save me!

 

“Get away from me!” Aauolas screamed in response, falling to the ground roughly before rising to his feet and beginning to run in the opposite direction. He had only taken a few steps before he stopped suddenly and looked at his chest with a dumbfounded expression on his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but never got the chance as the mass reactive round that had buried itself in his abdomen exploded, sending his head and upper body high into the sky before landing with a sickly wet thud.

 

Three miles away the cloak covered Dune Serpent closed the lens cover of his sniper rifle and rose to his feet. He looked at his brother, who had used his powers to hole the slain rider together long enough for the trap to be sprung and was now cleansing himself of any potential spirits that had sought to cling to him. His spotter rose to his feet as well and nodded to the shooter before the shooter keyed his com-bead, breaking three weeks of perfect radio silence.

 

"Great Serpent, this is Whispers on the Dunes. Copy?"

 

"This is Great Serpent, what is your traffic?"

 

"Target eliminated."

[simison]

"...until it stopped and [he was] facing the audience."

 

"...yet [cower] in the wilds..."

 

"The rider, and in fact his mount as well; remained silent..." (The semi-colon needs to be replaced with a comma.)

 

Other than that, kinda creepy. Which fits the Serpents.