Machinery of Hate

[Commissar Molotov]

Chapter One

I still remember the nausea that welled in my gut as I first caught sight of Maethax. It was a swollen, cancerous world, dark and troubled. The fires of industry that still remained alight lent a crimson pall to the atmosphere. It seemed obvious to me then that the world was afflicted with the terrible contagion of Chaos.

 

An unwelcoming planet, Maethax was consumed by pervasive industrial sprawl. Densely populated for its size, its forges produced weapons and other materiel for Imperial Guard forces across the northern Ultima Segmentum. The forges were causing irreperable damage to the environment as they struggled to meat the demand. The atmosphere was being torn to shreds, and some said they were only a few generations away from sealing themselves up and declaring the place a hive-world. Not a nice place to live, but we of the Castigators cared little. We knew that if the industrial production of Maethax could be brought to a halt, entire sectors could be at risk.

 

I was attached to the Black Company then, under Captain Anteas. He was a popular commander, respected by his men. The Fifth were known for their skill-at-arms, and it was no exaggeration to say that Anteas was responsible for that. Since he had taken command during the War of Woes, he had instituted gruelling training regimes that were punishing even for the warriors of the Astartes. Our enhanced anatomies struggled to cope with some of the tests we were put through. We would fight for hours until every muscle screamed; we would run seemingly endlessly. I was only technically part of the Company, but Anteas had demaded that I participate. It was something I was privately pleased about.

 

Two Companies of our gloried Chapter had been assigned to defend Maethax that year; the Sacred Endeavour had also carried the second, under Captain Caphius. I had met Caphius only a few times in an official capacity, but I knew well the tales of his anger. Anteas had never told me his thoughts on his counterpart, but I didn't need to be some kind of a witch to know. Few liked him, but his tactical acumen was unquestioned. He was, however, a belligerent and bellicose commander. Emperor knows, all of us in this Chapter are considered to be zealots by some in the Imperium, but Caphius was a zealot by even our standards.

 

Caphius technically had command of the battle-force, arraying his forces in the Northern Hemisphere, whilst the fifth deployed to the southern city of Bacchat. It was a dismal place, blanketed by the roar of machinery and sporadic showers of acid rain. Manufactora, smelters, forges and more clamoured for space; chimneys and smoke-stacks belched a layer of poisonous gasses that did their best to block the evening sun.

 

 

 

 

 

ORIGINAL POST HERE:

 

-

This is part of an experiment, admittedly. Aerion the Faithful and Cpt_Tiberius have been pushing me to write fiction for the Castigators for a while. Aerion was asking me about writing Space Marine fiction from a first-person perspective. I know it's not been done often, and as far as I know it's not been done at all by official Black Library novelists. I'm a huge fan of Abnett's Eisenhorn and Ravenor series. I thought it'd be an interesting exercise and it's going pretty well. It might involve into something longer and more thought-out, too.

 

It's pretty rough, but I appreciate any feedback you can offer. Let me know whether it's even worth continuing! :P

 

Machinery of Hate, Part One

 

I still remember the nausea that welled in my gut as I first caught sight of Maethax. It was a swollen, cancerous world, dark and troubled. The fires of industry that still remained alight had glared like a baleful eye as we approached aboard the Battle Barge Imperius Excelsis. It seemed obvious to me then that the world was afflicted with the terrible contagion of Chaos.

 

Maethax was an inhospitable world, an urbanised industrial sprawl. A densely populated world in the northern reaches of the Ultima Segmentum, its forges produced weapons and other materiel for the Imperial Guard. The forges were causing irreperable damage to the environment as they struggled to meat the demand. The atmosphere was being torn to shreds, and some said they were only a few generations away from sealing themselves up and declaring the place a hive-world. Not a nice place to live, but we of the Castigators cared little. We knew that if the industrial production of Maethax was halted, the entire sector could be at risk.

 

I had been attached to the Black Company then, under Captain Anteas. He was a popular Captain, respected by his men. The fifth were known for their skill, and it was no exaggeration to say that Anteas was responsible for that. He and the Company Chaplain, Punitus, had instituted gruelling training routines that were punishing even for warriors of the Astartes. Our enhanced anatomies struggled to cope with some of the tests we were put through. We would fight for hours until every muscle screamed; we would run seemingly endlessly. I was only technically part of the Company, but Anteas had demanded I participate. It was something I was privately pleased about.

 

Two Companies of our gloried Chapter had been assigned to defend Maethax that year; the Imperius Excelsis had also carried the second, under Captain Caphius. I had met Caphius only a few times in an official capacity, but I had heard many tales of his anger. Anteas had never told me his thoughts on his counterpart but I didn't need to be some kind of a witch to know. Few liked him, but his tactical acumen was unquestioned. He was, however, a belligerent and bellicose commander. Emperor knows, all of us in this Chapter are considered to be zealots by some in the Imperium, but Caphius was a zealot by even our standards.

 

Caphius technically had command of the battle-force, arraying his forces in the Northern Hemisphere, whilst the fifth deployed to the southern city of Bacchat. It was a dismal place, blanketed by the roar of machinery and sporadic showers of acid rain. Manufactora, smelters, forges and more clamoured for space; chimneys and smoke-stacks belched a layer of poisonous gasses that did their best to block the evening sun.

 

Anteas turned to me as we disembarked from the Rhino, an amused expression on his face.

"A delightful place, Acastus, is it not?"

"Not really." I said, sniffing derisively. "It smells terrible."? The Captain laughed at that, clapping a gauntleted hand on my shoulder pauldron, and then we continued onwards.

 

The PDF forces arrayed around the city had been bolstered by a massive infusion of Imperial Guardsmen - men from the Krieg Death Korps. We spent the best part of the day inspecting their earthworks, trenches and fortifications. It was also a morale exercise. As Anteas and I stepped through the trenches, we were, to say the least, a noticeable sight. A head taller than the Kriegers, Anteas in his crimson armour and I in my deep blue, we doubtless brought great hope. And if any of the enemy were watching, I fancy that they probably soiled themselves knowing their reckoning was at hand. All around us, most of the Krieg put on a great show of working at the fortifications and manning the firing-steps whilst not staring at us. Some abandoned the pretense altogether, openly looking at us with awe and curiosity. The Krieg were dedicated, disciplined soldiers, but to be faced with two Space Marines in full battle-armour was to be confronted by heroes, stepping straight from the pages of legends.

 

Anteas took the time to meet many soldiers, paying attention to their thoughts and chatting idly. He was principled, and took the time to meet the common man, trying to garner an understanding of their situation. It seemed almost surreal to have a Captain of the Adeptus Astartes listening to the concerns of Krieg death-troopers, but Anteas had a gift for connecting with the common man. I had seen him perform the same routine on many worlds. Some might have considered his conduct inappropriate, but I had a great deal of respect for Anteas, doing his best to understand and empathise the soldiers we fought alongside.

 

At the same time, however, he oversaw more martial aspects of the defence. He directed a constant stream of comments to me on how the defences could be improved. I noted each on one of the many data-slates I carried, before we would carry on. Later, I would present the Captain's suggestions to the Colonel commanding the Kriegers. I remember that I had turned from the Captain to admire how the Kriegers had camouflaged the titanic bulk of their Baneblade super-heavy when I heard the armoured footfalls splashing down the trench.

 

Caetrus was the Captain's senior sergeant, a veteran with a fearsome reputation among the warriors of the Company. Many years previous, he had been consumed by a titanic explosion whilst single-handedly repelling an enemy attack. A Hellhound, they say. It was before I joined the Company, and thus I had always known Caetrus as he was then. The flesh had been seared from his body, leaving his skull hairless, his skin scarred and blistered. He was plain-speaking and direct; I knew that Anteas valued that quality in him, and had even depended upon it at times.

 

The purity seals adorning the Sergeant's Mark IV plate fluttered as he made his way towards the Captain. I knew Caetrus well enough to know something was amiss. He paused, nodding his respects at me, before regarding the Captain with his dark, heavy-set eyes.

 

"Brother-Captain. The scouts have reported in."?

"Good." Anteas had been waiting several hours for the scouts of Sergeant Callus' squad to report. "What do they have to say?"

"It appears the enemy plan to assault the Tertian Gate. Three companies of soldiers, at least, with additional armoured support."

 

As the Sergeant talked, I had called up a map of the city; marking the anticipated attack on the data-slate should the Captain require a visual aid. I doubted he would; he had a mind as sharp as a razor. The enemy troops we had encountered thus far had been surprisingly well-equipped. It was an unfortunate stereotype that the Astartes only ever faced ill-armed savages with rocks and clubs. Some of these traitors to the Emperor's name had even been seen with hellguns and carapace armour.

 

"That area is under the command of Sergeant Vitus, is it not? Inform him and ready the Kriegers to reinforce the line, should it be required."

 

Caetrus nodded at that. It was common knowledge amongst the company that he had conducted his own inspection of the Krieg lines. Of course, he'd done it with his helmet on. From what I understood, the Death Korps had even impressed him, both with their skill-at-arms and their disposition. The Krieg were almost kindred spirits with Caetrus. Both seemed to throw themselves to the wolves with self-destructive glee. Both seemed to return more or less unscathed.

 

"Is there anything else, Sergeant?"? Anteas asked, noting that Caetrus had not left. "What else have the scouts to report?"

 

Since losing his face, Caetrus had been blessed with an almost emotionless mask of scar tissue. I almost envied him for that. I knew it couldn't have been easy to deliver his next words.

 

"It is as you feared, Captain. The scouts reported traitor Astartes. The Word Bearers."

 

I watched Anteas' face darken, his jaw muscles clenching as he considered the import of the news. I realise now that I must have had a similar expression on my face; the Word Bearers were - and are - one of our most hated enemies. Some have, in the past, compared the Castigators to Lorgar's sons. They say we both espouse our ideologies with vehemence and an arrogant sense of self-righteousness. We have always made sure to exact a blood-price for such insulting and slanderous heresies. We fight to preserve the Imperium, whilst the Word Bearers only ever fight according to further their own inscrutable designs. Of all the fallen Legions, we reserve our darkest fury and our most furious hatred for the Word Bearers. None are more debased than their apostles. Their involvement meant that this chaotic insurrection was far more serious than we first realised. As I looked into Anteas' face, I realised it also meant we were committed. We would reap victory here, or we would die.

 

"Has Caphius been informed?" Anteas said at last.

"He has." Caetrus said. "The Second reported entering combat only a few minutes ago."

 

Anteas turned sharply, moving at a brisk pace that had me jogging behind to catch up. The Krieg knew enough to keep out of our way; I think Anteas' face was warning enough.

 

"Acastus!" he called over his shoulder. "Find Punitus. Now."

 

***

 

I found Punitus easily enough. I headed to the Chapel. Though a building designed and commissioned by the Ecclesiarchy, it had proved adequate for our needs. Whilst the bulk of the Company had landed and begun looking to the defences, Punitus had commandeered a chapel, merely pointing his bolt pistol at the PDF troopers who had come in response to the evicted priest's complaints. The soldiers had quickly backed down, and the Chaplain had stationed a bolter-carrying Marine at the door to prevent a repeat of the incident. Punitus had informed Anteas that the fortification of the spirit was just as important as the defence of the city. I had refrained from tartly reminding him that the crucible of battle was said to be the greatest altar to the Emperor. I didn't think the Chaplain would've coped with having Guilliman quoted to him.

 

I entered quietly, pushing past the guard to find the Chaplain kneeling before a giant metal aquila. He wore his armour; the black paintwork shone in the light of the candles. His armour was an ancient work of art, artificer-crafted and finely wrought. It had been passed down from Chaplain to Chaplain over the millennia. His breastplate bore an exquisitely detailed mural of an ancient battle-scene, adorned with various precious stones and metals. His helmet was removed, borne by a servitor upon a velvet cushion. It was fashioned into the traditional skull form; it seemed to leer at me in the half-light. Punitus' own cranium was shaven and covered with intricate scriptwork, devotional litanies he had composed himself before having them tattooed. His lips moved silently to the words of a prayer. Which, I couldn't determine. He had many.

 

He was surrounded by many servitors, each carrying a different holy artefact or piece of the Chaplain's wargear. Despite that, I still felt like an intruder. I coughed, drawing Punitus from his reverie. He fixed on me with suspicious eyes. He didn't seem startled, though, as if he'd known I was there all along.

 

"What do you want, Codicier?" He spat the last word at me like an accusation. He was far too used to pronouncing his judgement upon others.

"It's not what I want, Brother-Chaplain. The Captain has requested your presence immediately."

"Hrm. Go. I will join you presently."

 

I turned smartly and left the Chapel without another word. I stepped outside and took a breath of the evening air, regretting it as I tasted the air. Regardless, I hadn't wanted to stay with Punitus for long.

 

His attitude, I suppose, deserves an explanation. The vast majority of the Adeptus Astartes Chapters make use of those with psychic powers, deploying the feared Librarians. Space Marines who can make lightning spark from their fingers and fight wreathed with coruscating flame. They make a distinction between the psyker and the witch. We Castigators, however, make no such distinction. They're all witches - and witches are abominations that must be purged from the Emperor's sight. It is, after all, one of our most sacred duties.

 

Our massed ranks are free of psykers, and every day I thank the Emperor for that blessing! Like any other Chapter, we need someone to record our history, to record our victories and to advise our Commanders on the finer points of history, lore and culture. Accordingly, we still have a Librarius and we still have individuals who hold the rank of Librarian. We Librarians are, however, as psychically-gifted as any other battle-brother. And as faithful, despite what Punitus and his ilk would have you believe. The Chapter's most zealous treated us with undeserved disdain, claiming we are guilty by virtue of our association with the office. He had never made a secret of his hatred towards me. I was half-convinced that if I ever crossed him, he would happily slaughter me, Crozius in one hand and flamer in the other.

 

***

 

As I struggled to fulfil the Captain's orders, other elements of the Company were already engaged in a different type of battle. Sergeant Vitus was an experienced warrior, and it was for that reason that Anteas had assigned him to defend the Tertian Gate. Whilst not a literal gateway, the 'gate' was an area within the eastern quarter of the city where the earlier fighting had been heaviest. It could easily provide a foothold for the heretics if we let them; Traitor forces had laid waste to the buildings until we had deployed, pushing them out of the city limits. Vitus looked over the Tertian Gate from his vantage-point as the dawn sun rose. Fires still flickered within the ruins; broken tanks were scattered here-and-there throughout the streets, smouldering thick grey oil-smoke that would only exacerbate the pollution. A Krieg company had reinforced the area, deploying within broken buildings and taking advantage of the broken roads to dig in. Still, Sergeant Vitus and the third squad had been ordered to take overall command of the defence.

 

Vitus was a solid, dependable Marine. Two golden service studs were implanted in his brow, each indicating a century's service in the Chapter's name. He hadn't got them by being stupid. He smashed the butt of his bolt pistol in the skull of a heretic, feeling the visceral crack of bone as his face was reduced to a crimson smear. The hellgun fell from his lifeless fingers, and Vitus' mind raced in the momentary lull. These troopers were well-equipped, but it mattered little before the awesome force of a Space Marine. His keen ears caught the disciplined volleys of bolt-fire from his squad-brothers not yet in m�l�e. Each shot blew huge chunks of flesh from the heretic forces as they swarmed through the streets, but it seemingly did little to thin their numbers.

 

And so it came down to the swirling maelstrom of hand-to-hand combat. As it had in so many wars, on so many planets. Vitus swung his chainsword in great arcs, disembowelling, decapitating, eviscerating. His twin hearts beat like tribal war-drums as the blood sang in his head. He kicked aside the last corpses and surveyed the situation in front of him.

 

The traitors had taken a ruined building ahead of him, emplacing a heavy bolter in what remained of a ground-floor window. Vitus counted upon the element of surprise and sprinted forwards, his power armour protecting against the worst of the small-arms fire. He leapt over the ruined wall, into the midst of a Squad of traitors. They wore bulky carapace armour that slowed their movements and made them look almost alien. Vitus' action was almost as reflexive as his hatred; he brought around his howling chainsword, cutting the nearest traitor in two. The whirring teeth ground through the carapace, meeting resistance but cleaving through flesh, bone and armour with ease. Near-instinctively, Vitus fired his bolt pistol at another. The shot took the traitor high in the chest, blasting a fist-sized hole, punching through flesh and bone and exploding. The air filled with a fine red mist as the Sergeant waded through the troopers. Until all lay dead beneath him.

 

Vitus thumbed off his chainsword's activation rune, connecting with the rest of his squad over the vox. No reported casualties thus far. He heard a roaring noise and looked up to see the Company's asasult marines blasting into the fray, landing on trails of flame. He smiled - The Captain had sent reinforcements. Hefting his weapons, he leapt down from the building to regroup with his squad and bring death to the heretics.

 

***

 

I entered the bunker, ducking through the doorway, to find Anteas in a grim mood. I saw Decius, the Company Apothecary, a stern look upon his lined face. Sergeants Caetrus, Tanthus and Meridius. Even Sergeant Callus, fresh from his missions outside the city. Although not a warrior of the Fifth, Callus was a Veteran of many wars and his opinion was greatly valued by Anteas.

 

"Acastus." Anteas said. "Come in. We have much to talk about."

[StratoKhan]

My first point is a minor one, which I'm sure you'll realise once you've reread your post, but for some reason some punctuation appears to have been corrupted somehow. I'm sure it'll be easy to fix.

 

There was one spelling error I noted, but that is all.

 

Let me know whether it's even worth continuing!

 

Well, I won't be able to know what happens if you don't continue, will I? =)

 

Now for the rest -

 

You set the scene well, the characters were well introduced, and the setting is also good. You keep us from knowing too much about Acastus for now, which is also good. We'll learn about him as the story progresses, as it should be.

 

Then we've got the last part - Word Bearers. So you've started well and finished strong.

[Commissar Molotov]

Yeah, apologies for that. The corruption throughout the text was irksome, but I've edited that. Which spelling mistake? Spelling mistakes irritate me like nothing else, so if you can point any out I'd be more than appreciative. Thank you for your input thus far - if you've any more, be sure to let me know. ^_^

[StratoKhan]

Just a simple typo, don't worry. That's what an internet community's there for.

 

Our enhanced anatomies struggled to cope with some of the tests we were pout through.

[Commissar Molotov]

More than anything, I hate it when a mis-spelled word is also a word, so spell-checkers ignore it. I don't know if it happens to anyone else, but I get to the stage sometimes where I'm blind to the faults in my writing because I've read through it so many times. Plus, it's psychological, I suppose; we mentally see what we want - and what we expect - to see.

 

Thanks for the spot, Stratokhan. Fresh eyes are always useful. I'm going to fiddle about with the next part soon, hopefully.

[Commissar Molotov]

Edited the piece up-top. :D

[SCC]

The first time I saw Maethax, I remember being distinctly unimpressed. It was a swollen, cancerous world, dark and troubled. The remaining fires of industry had glared like a baleful eye as we had approached aboard the Battle Barge Imperius Excelsis. It seemed obvious to me then that the world was afflicted with the contagion of Chaos.

 

'Unimpressed' doesn't seem a terribly Space Marine thought to me, especially not with regard to a Chaos tainted world. Perhaps something that evokes a more visceral response might suit better there?

'I still remember the the nausea that welled in my gut as I got my first glimpse of Maethax.'

Or something along those lines might give you a less detached entry into the story...

 

The fifth were known for their skill, and it was no exaggeration to say that Anteas was responsible for that. He and the Company Chaplain, Punitus, had instituted gruelling training routines that were punishing even for us of the Astartes.

 

I'm not too keen the last part of that sentence, it just doesn't flow right...

 

Perhaps 'punishing even for warriors of the Astartes' or something else, it's the 'us' part that doesn't seem quite right to me. 'those of us of the Astartes' might work better now I think about it...

 

Following that I'd offer some more detail for the next sentence 'Our enhanced anatomies struggled to cope with some of the tests we were put through.' like what sort of stresses and strains in particular were tough - fitness/strength related issues, tests of skill or knowledge etc. Just a little detail to draw the reader in closer would be nice.

 

I particularly liked the descriptions of Capt. Caphius 'Emperor knows, all of us in this Chapter are considered to be zealots by some in the Imperium, but Caphius was a zealot by even our standards.' - it's a neat way to intro some background to the Chapter without resorting to blatant exposition :P The same goes for intro for the Chaplain, wonderful characterisation.

 

The PDF forces arrayed around the city had been bolstered by a massed infusion of Imperial Guardsmen - men from the Krieg Death Korps.

'massive' rather than 'massed'? Tremendous? Impressive?

 

The purity seals adorning the Sergeant's mark four plate fluttered as he made his way towards the Captain.

'Mark IV' rather than 'mark four'? Or perhaps refer to it by the name of the mark, which currently escapes me...

 

I didn't think the Chaplain would've coped having Guilliman quoted to him.

'coped with having'?

 

These troopers were well-equipped, but it mattered little before the awesome force of a Space Marine. His keen ears caught the disciplined volleys of bolt-fire from his squad-brothers not yet in combat.

Personally I'd say shooting bad guys was combat, perhaps 'close combat', 'hand to hand combat', 'one on one combat' or something similar would aid the distinction?

 

I entered the bunker, ducking through the doorway, to find Anteas in a poor mood.

'Grim' rather than 'poor' perhaps? A little over used as a phrase I grant but 'poor mood' doesn't work for my ears...

 

Aside from a few minor tweaks here and there I must say it's excellent, the characters are drawn nicely with a subtle stroke unusual in Astartes based stories that I'm quite enjoying. Most definitely continue with the story Molotov :)

[Commissar Molotov]

Thanks for your critique, SCC. I've edited to deal with most of your points. The bit about the training of the Astartes is something I haven't dealt with just yet, but I'm hoping to explore. Tiberius made the comment to me that he thought the first few paragraphs were too short and undetailed. I'm trying to balance between not saying enough, and babbling on for too long.

 

Do you feel that the section explaining the Chaplain's view of the Librarians qualifies as too much unnecessary exposition? Initially, I tried to keep it quite vague as to what and who Acastus was - the only clues really being his blue armour and the data-slates he carried around with him. If so, do you think I could explain it any other way? I mean, I can't have him explaining it to any of the Castigators - because they all know - and I'd want to steer away from having the convenient Krieger there for him to spill his heart to.

 

One thing actually, also, something that surprised me, was how badly people have responded to the switch from Acastus to Sergeant Vitus. I was reading something Dan Abnett wrote about Eisenhorn:

 

If I ever work out whose idea it was to write these stories in the first person, I'll be round their house with a baseball bat. The plot problems that caused...

 

Oh, hang on. That was me.

 

The thing with a first-person narrative is that it's very difficult to write a plot. You can't change scene very easily - otherwise, Acastus would have to be rushing around the planet in order to properly narrate things. The section with Sergeant Vitus is still narrated by Acastus (Hence "Whilst I...") but instead of talking about his own actions, he's telling someone else's.

 

That was my plan, anyhow. It is still an experiment, so I'm still fiddling with it. I've recently read Forever Peace by Joe Haldeman, and that has some awkward changes from the first person narrative to an exterior third-person narrator, explaining big meta-concepts. I'd like to steer away from that, but I feel that if you see this as Acastus telling the story of Maethax at some later date, he's filling in the events that happened to other Castigators at the same time. Do you think it works?

[Drakkar Windrider]

Yes, the switching from first to third person tends to be a big problem in this kind of thing. The problem being that the world is not seen from an omniscient point of view. The world is created, so to say, by the narrator. The narrator creates the world, it is not that the narrator is putting himself into an already-created world.

 

To solve that, there are a few methods. You could write the third person as a secondary, edited-like piece. Something explanatory, as if you had put an asterisk there and then explained in a small paragraph.

 

The other solution is going Ciaphas Cain, and having someone else write down the circumstances of the action. Someone like an Inquisitor, another officer, etc...

 

And then you have simply using bigger separations between paragraphs.

[Commissar Molotov]

Certainly, the narrator creates the world - hence why he's able to say "Whilst I was off doing this, Sergeant Vitus was doing this...", so I personally don't see the problem.

[Grimdarkness]

Looks good but a small question are all the forge worlds of the imperium dedicated to building weapon's?

[StratoKhan]

Well, there are many ways you can go to create a strong narrative. A 1st person narrative has strengths and weaknesses that make it worth using. I would stick to 1st person and develop the aspects that make such a mode of narration strong and effective.

 

I'm probably rambling though.

[SCC]

Do you feel that the section explaining the Chaplain's view of the Librarians qualifies as too much unnecessary exposition? Initially, I tried to keep it quite vague as to what and who Acastus was - the only clues really being his blue armour and the data-slates he carried around with him. If so, do you think I could explain it any other way? I mean, I can't have him explaining it to any of the Castigators - because they all know - and I'd want to steer away from having the convenient Krieger there for him to spill his heart to.

Actually I quite liked it but I admit I've read and enjoyed IA Castigators so I knew where you were going there.

 

On reflection I might have a second look at this sentence in the Acastus/Chaplain meeting:

 

I was half-convinced that if I ever crossed him, he would happily slaughter me, Crozius in one hand and flamer in the other.

 

And think about replacing 'slaughter' with 'judge' or 'cleanse' or 'purify', slaughter makes the Chaplain's actions too personal, I think judge/cleanse/purify or whatever would make it seem more like he saw it as his duty to deal with any possible threat to the Chapter's purity.

 

On the 1st/3rd person POV switch, I don't see you have too many other options. In all honesty whilst I noticed the switch I didn't find it jarring in any way, it seemed quite natural to me and I think it works well enough to at least continue with it and see how it fares in the longer haul.

[NemFX]

Interesting. I'll be more curious to see them take to a proper battle.

 

You might want to make more refference on the Death Korps's gear though. Since it's uncommon even in the Imperium (at least the gas masks are) the space marines might not have encountered them.

 

Also, I don't know how you all play them, but I don't use grenades in the actual game, so hopefully you'll show us some real tactics that you use instead of the videogame ones that we all use.

[Tyrannicide]

Just an awesome story and i like the fluff behind your chapter, great job again :devil:

[Nine_Breaker]

One problem with the 1st to 3rd person switch might be that, while you say that this is Acastus telling the story of Maethax some years later or whatever, the reader has no way of knowing that without looking through the thread. I personally don't have any problem with the switch, except that it seems weird at first that Acastus is able to explain the feelings and thoughts of Sergeant Vitus. Perhaps this is necessary, but I never tried it. Perhaps you could experiment with showing the emotions of other Castigators characters through their outward appearance and behavior, instead of stating exactly how they are feeling and the thoughts that are going through their heads? I'm not sure. I plan to start up my own 1st person short story soon (another one, that is), so maybe I'll try some stuff out and discuss methods and such with you at a later date.

 

Anyhow, this is looking pretty good so far.

[Commissar Molotov]

I'm committing a grave act of threadromancy here because I've been bugged into re-working Machinery of Hate. I've always regarded this as somewhat of a failed experiment (one I've been quite embarassed about, actually), but something I'd like to retry. I'm quite fond of Acastus as a narrator, and as I'm working on my Castigator army, it seems fitting!

 

I'd ideally like to make this a novel-sized piece of work. Fifty thousand words would be my goal. Most fan-fiction, I find, is too short (but then again, few people have the patience to read fan-fiction!)

 

So I'm ideally looking for any input on structure and the like. I'd also appreciate thoughts on the first-person narrative.

 

I'll be putting up some updates soon!

 

- Mol. :)

[Nine_Breaker]

Looking back over the story so far, I think you're doing a pretty good job in the switch between first and third person. The first distinguishes itself from the third well in how Acastus's thoughts make up a great deal of the text but in the third you keep all the details physical.

 

If you want this to be novel sized though, you'll probably have to expand just about every section you've written so far and continue to do so...