A 13th Saga

[Sköll Khan]

I'm trying my had at little creative writing. Any comments or suggestions would be welcome, on this first extract:

 

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Rage, hatred, death.... he could smell them, bitter, hot, metallic, not in some poetic sense, this was not the writings of some Scald, nor in the sense that one can smell “war” as a fragrance born of blood, sweat and iron, this was real. A reality. His reality. His minds vein attempts to frame insanity, with some semblance of logic. He could smell raw emotion. The air before him writhing as if with the haze of heat, vapour like, entrancing, and yet knew that he saw not “something”, but a lack of “something”, the very stability a mind relies upon to be a mind. He knelt low, upon the dark crimson sands, shot through with tiny shards of bone, crushed almost to powder, and observed the shifting surfaces of the dunes that stretched into eternity where they met the blood red sky filled with black clouds that twisted and contorted despite the stillness of the air.

 

Had the ancients of his home world gleaned some look upon these worlds, when they spoke of other-worlds, worlds of fire and of daemons and of evil. If the Emperor had walked upon these worlds would he have ever proclaimed such beliefs unfounded superstitions borne of primitive ignorance.

 

The things he had seen. Ten Millennia of Chaos and war. It had changed him, changed them all, twisted them, how could it have not, he was a product of this place, born of Nightmares that he had lived. He slowly rose to his full height, the whine of his power armour's servos cutting into the silence. His armour was black-grey, ornate, his Greave encircled with an engraved serpentine image its maw opened wide as if to strike a single stylised planet which bore the symbol of a cyclopean eye. From his waste hung loin guard of chain mail, topped with an ancient talisman of dark fur and skulls of unimagined creatures bore testament to unrecorded sagas. His cuirass bore a brazen wolf, styled as if walking among stars, the emblem was half buried by the multitude of trophies and talismans, that hung from his neck. A cloak of daemons hide, trimmed with black fur draped across his back. His horn capped shoulders pads, framed with rune-embossed bronze, were black with the head of snarling red wolf. From his back rose spikes, displaying gruesome trophies of fallen foes; horned skulls, leathered skins, twisted mockeries of astartes' helms and armour.

 

He raised a chain-axe in his gauntleted fist, a trophy itself, pried from the dead fingers of a world-eater; a battle alone worthy of grand saga. He tilted his head back and let out a bestial howl shattering the silence, his brothers at his back froze, heads turning to him. He turned to the pack, spread out among the sands behind him.

 

“They come” he growled. As if to emphasise his words the ground itself began to quake and a deep rumble filled the air. He turned back to the empty landscape before him and took a readied stance, his axe drawn back ready to strike.

 

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Edit:

 

Here is a overview of the planned story, I've put it as a spoiler in case anyone enjoys my overly wordy writing style and victorian-esque grammar and acctuly wants to read it as a story.

 

 

The story is based on a 13th Company member who, is torn from the warp, while fighting a daemon who has been summoned by a cult.

The Wolf, obligated by his oath to russ, wishes to return to the eye of terror.

but finds himself on a hive world, far from the eye.

He must contend with being hunted by the inquisition, while becoming embroiled in the danger that threatens to overcome the hive world and threaten the Imperium. The story will look at how a 30k warrior, deals with the 40k universe

 

[Grey Mage]

I like it, and the overveiw is good. I await the rest of it.

[Sköll Khan]

...The rumble grew, and bestial roars and snares of rage, uttered by unnatural mouths, filled the nothingness before the pack. The air before the warrior, suddenly congealed into a hideous form. Human in part, it stood head and shoulder above him, its corded muscular form, devoid of skin, wet, bloody and raw. Its elongated head, crowned with great black curved horns, its distended jaws filled with blade like teeth over which flicked its hideously barbed tongue, its eyes burned with the light of long dead suns and the hatred from which it's form had been cast. ...

[Durfast Spiritwolf]

Good stuff - very good

[Sköll Khan]

Thanks for the kind words brothers,

 

I shall add bits, as and when I'm happy with them, which gives the advantage of giving any of those who are interested, the story in bite-size portions.

 

Enjoy

 

The Mighty Skoll