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From the album: Short stories
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From the album: Short stories
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From the album: Short stories
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From the album: Forging a Chapter
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From the album: Forging a Chapter
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A short story I wrote a couple nights ago (and I do mean short), featuring the Shogun of my Dawn Blades Chapter (IA in my sig if you like). Hope you all like it. =][= Kujō Kamakura, Lord of the Dawn Blades chapter and master of the Shogun’s Might was not wearing his armor, but he was no less impressive for it. He wore his finest kimono, the one that tradition demanded he wear for a momentous and irreversible event as this. Aside his belt he bore the Sunfire Katana, a weapon of such power and radiance that it would have been irradiating his leg and hip, as well as every mortal in a three-meter radius, were it not for the ornate and mastercrafted scabbard that contained it. He walked nearly at the head of a grand procession, preceded by his Saisho-Shinsengumi and followed by a full squad of Vanguard Samurai Veterans, all in full armor and kitted out for war. They were surrounded by mortal chattels bearing incense and holy relics, wailing hymns of praise to the Solis-Imperator. At the end of the parade of war strode the Reclusiarch in his obsidian-black battle plate, chanting a litany of fury that slowly rose in volume as they marched. The procession’s path took them the length of the chapter barque, and concluded after nearly an hour’s time on the bridge of the mighty vessel. Kamakura strode to the viewport at the fore of the bridge, from which he stared down at the world below. It was tainted, contaminated by the eldritch forces of the Chaos god Slaanesh, and this was anathema to humanity. There was no saving the population, or planet. And so the Shogun spoke the words of final censure. “The Solis-Imperator has found this world to be departed from His loving light. By the power invested in me by my office as Master of a Chapter of His Holy Adeptus Astartes, I declare this world dead in all accounts, and forevermore nothingness. They have rejected His life-giving light. They shall feel His wrath.” He paused the requisite ten seconds, a necessity of tradition dictated by the number of their founding Legio. “Let the fires of His Justice burn.” With a draw and thrust of his sword, flames flickering down its length, the command was given. “Exterminatus.” And fire rained down from above. Fin.