The Truest Warrior

[13skullz]

He had forgotten his name long ago. His legion lost, dust in the wind. His armor grey, stripped bare from hundreds of thousands upon hundreds of thousands of years of war.

He is:

 

The Truest Warrior

 

He stood upon the cliff, looking down into the untold thousands of the Ork horde. Shifting his gaze, he spotted the warboss immediately, its considerable bulk was there; beneath him. It was addressing its hordes.

 

"Are we? Are we the only ones left? Are we the last ones alive? Is anyone there? Anyone? Are we really the last ones left here? Are we?" It was the only thing in his mind. A ghosted vox-transmission from millennia ago. It was his voice. Sudden, painful snippets of memories of long ago came unbidden. Fighting. Explosions. Gunfire. The wails of the wounded. Screams of the Dying. Silence of the dead. A painful, repetitive loop. Grainy and sepia-toned, like an old pict-feed. There was no light. Nothing comforting to feel or hear. There was no life around.

A hand reaches out and turns the voxcaster-

 

-off. Suddenly they were gone. Pain of millenia past, gone.

 

All will die by his blade.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

With a slow and graceful movement, he stepped off of the cliff face, spreadeagled. He fell for what seemed like an eternity. In reality, it was the merest fraction of a second. Suddenly, nearing the bottom of his descent, he pulled into a loose vertical dive, arms up.

 

He landed in a low crouch. His legs bent, chest forward and parallel to the ground, head down. Slowly he rose to a full stance, chest bared. The Ork warboss turned and roared curses in its foul, gutteral language.

 

"I understand you, warboss. All your men shall die for that insult," he replied in the Ork tongue.

 

"Come in! Sir! ... -erribl... -om... -rdment comm... -ing! Re... -eat! Ter... -le cycl... -nic b... -mbar... -nt ... -mmens... -ng! Help!" His voice too. A forgoten planet, destroyed millenia ago. Yet again those memories came unbidden. Left to die in a rat-hole. Darkness and death all around. Screams of the wounded and dying. Silence of the dead.

A sword is-

 

-raised. Gone again, in an instant.

 

He knew his end was not to be soon.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

I had this idea for a story for a while now, and just decided to actually type it up. I hope you enjoyed it!

 

-Skullz

[Ferrata]

You do realise that the Imperium is only in the 41000 year? 'Hundreds of thousands (100,000) upon hundreds of thousands (100,000) years' is 10,000,000,000...Earth is only 4,600,000,000 years old...Unless this guy spent eternity in the warp, you are lying to us.

 

He stood upon the cliff, looking down into the untold thousands of the Ork WAAAGH. Shifting his gaze, he spotted the warboss immediately, its not-inconsiderable bulk was there; beneath him. It was addressing its hordes.

I dislike the term 'WAAAGH!' in a story, it generally breaks the flow, especially with it being all capitalised. Consider 'host' or even 'untol thousands of Orks'. Double-negatives rarely work (not-inconsiderable is the same as considerable) and finally it reads as the follow caption is from the speech the warboss is making.

 

A ghosted vox-transmission from millennia ago. It was his voice. Sudden, painful snippets of memories of long ago came unbidden. Fighting. Explosions. Gunfire. The wails of the wounded. Screams of the Dying. Silence of the dead. A painful, repetitive loop. Grainy and sepia-toned, like an old pict-feed. Light: none. Sounds: disturbing. Life: nonexistent.

I like the start of this, but maybe it could run a little smoother. 'The wails of the wounded sung with the screams of the dying. This most terribel noise only replaced one far worse, the silence of the dead.' I'm not a fan of the Light:... bit, it seems a little off. How about 'like an old pict-feed, the visual context barely visible but the distressing sounds still haunting him'

 

With a slow and graceful movement, he stepped off of the cliff face, legs down; knees bent at ninety-degree angles behind him; arms spread wide. He fell for what seemed like an eternity. In reality, it was the merest fraction of a second.

You might want to check this position in your head, it reads as almost a pray position (arms out). I wouldn't choose to fall like that especially if I was meant to land in a crouch.

 

The idea behind the story is okay, a little short for my liking. A couple of errors (in my opinion anyway) with the flow of the words, but I don't know how much you have written in the best. Don't be disheartened and write more :wallbash:

[13skullz]

I thank you for your kind feedback. I couldn't get disenheartened as

I am failing my major. [sad face]

 

'The wails of the wounded sung with the screams of the dying. This most terribel noise only replaced one far worse, the silence of the dead.' I'm not a fan of the Light:... bit, it seems a little off. How about 'like an old pict-feed, the visual context barely visible but the distressing sounds still haunting him'

 

I like this idea for a redrafting. I hope you dont mind mind if I use some of these.

 

You might want to check this position in your head, it reads as almost a pray position (arms out). I wouldn't choose to fall like that especially if I was meant to land in a crouch.

 

Yes, I meant for it to seem like he was falling... like if you were to fall in a sky diving position (spread-eagled), with your legs bent at 90 degree angles, and turned on an axis placed at your waist.

 

Also, He was trapped in the Warp. Why not. I truly wanted to make it seem dynamic, though maybe I ought to add that little detail; and I wanted to say "not-inconsiderable" bulk, as... well, nahh I can't justify it.

 

Thank you again for the feed back, And hopefully my edited version will be better!

 

 

-Skullz