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Wolf Scout

OnlyInDeath

By OnlyInDeath
in + SPACE WOLVES +

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Captain morgan Novitiate

Captain morgan

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Whew! discovered this epic thread today and just got done reading after a few hours.being honest,i felt like i was reading a published novel the whole time,small grammar mistakes aside.

 

i look forward to the next section,and you should definitely send this in to publish it when all is said and done.i enjoy the background and tension between istan,torvald and fenring,and the way you presented the imperial guard during the assault really tied things together.

 

keep up the fantastic work brother.

Thorgrim Blackwolf Battle-Brother

Thorgrim Blackwolf

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So this is what you've been doing when you're not knocking some sense into the blood claws ;)

 

Just caught up on Augusts additions and I have to say this saga has got better and better as you gain more experience, OID. Many thanks and ales for taking the time to write this saga :lol:

 

Please keep this going and who knows, we may have a seventh Space Wolf book in the pipeline if you send this off to BL once its complete....

 

Cheers

 

Thorgrim

OnlyInDeath Veteran

OnlyInDeath

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A snap of fabric brought Torvald back to the present. Sneezing loudly and wiping his running nose along the back of his vambrace, he looked around the room at the figures that were milling about. Several members of the Wolfguard were present, dwarfing all around them in their enormous sets of terminator armor. They moved sideways to file between the small clusters of conversing council members as they silently made their way towards the makeshift planks laid out in tiered seating where Torvald perched on the third and uppermost tier, towards the corner. Torvald sincerely hoped that the combined weight of so many suits of armor would not collapse the ad-hoc bleachers, though they were constructed of spare armor plating provided by the engine pool’s spare parts. Even still, the structure groaned ominously as the Guard lowered their bulk to into the lowest level of seats.

 

Others in the room included a varied set of Imperial Guard officers, and Torvald could tell from the haughty expressions, the wizened, hunched frames and the good deal of precious metal pinned to the lapels of many officers, that they included the top brass of the Imperial forces on the planet. Like a flock of harpies, junior officers hovered at the shoulders of the old crones, who only talked amongst themselves or cast dubious looks at the one another, distrust mingling with the need to jockey for position first and foremost in the minds of the veteran officers. It was all Torvald could do to keep a derisive laugh stifled as he noted that the lapdog cadres were doing their best to mimic every posture and nuance of their seniors. It took Torvald a moment to note the well built form of a younger officer, keeping to the back of the Guard officers. He wore the mark of a colonel, but his bearing suggested that he was a trooper at heart. Torvald took a moment to wonder how such a young soldier could possibly have risen to the rand of colonel, which took most guard officers most of a life time, one typically elongated by juvenant treatments and bionic enhancement, to achieve. Either this officer was especially lucky, or was viciously kiniving to have worked his way through the ranks so quickly, and Torvald strained his bleary eyes to make out the name patch stitched to the breast of the officer’s uniform. He started when he read the name “Valentine”, remembering Jairn’s words.

 

The officers, as if on queue, shuffled over to the bleachers and took their positions, while the rest of the bodies in the room followed suit; a handful of tech priests and servitors in a gaggle of steel and red cloth, several astropaths with emaciated features, sunken, hollow eyes and slate grey robes, as well as a naval officer in a stark white, lightly adorned uniform flanked by a detail of a handful of naval security troopers in beetle-like black carapace armor.

 

One of the flaps from the pavilion folded aside, and framed against the white hazy light of the mid morning, Torvald made out the familiar features of Istan standing to the side with the fabric in his hand. Fenring then appeared in the doorway, hunching his great frame to enter the structure so as to not catch his armor on the canvas doorframe. He was followed by Jairn, who likewise had to hunch his massive bulk, and Istan sealed the room behind them before moving towards a corner, doing his best to give the floor to the two senior Wolves within the restricted space. The Iron Priest and Wolf Lord took a moment to stand before the gathered officers, giving them a collective nod of respect, before Fenring approached the central dais of the room.

 

Besides the bleachers, the Iron Priests had erected a low platform on the opposite side of the room, with a small podium facing the stands, slight set off to the side, and along the back of the platform sat a large holo-projector, even now manned by fiddling servitors. They went about their task of calibrating the fitful machine with slack faces, the organic components of their bodies robbed of all emotion by the careful lobotomization of the Mechanicum. Incense burned in a small brazier handled by one of the servitors, while another pair fastidiously hunched over the gleaming brass fixture, tightening various bolts and daubing gratuitous amounts of sanctified machine oil over almost every surface.

 

Finally, with the hush almost deafening, Fenring strode to the podium and clasped it on either side, as if the sheet metal could support the weight of his armored body. He cast his flinty stare across the gathered delegates, conveying the gravity of what was about to be said with a palpable demand for attention and respect. For their part, the gathered officers leaned forward, rapt attention focused directly on the Wolf Lord.

 

“I would begin by thanking you all for coming. I know a summons in the middle of the night is not something that most of you are used to, but we stand upon a crux that we can ill afford to miss,” Fenring began. It struck Torvald as odd to hear his old comrade speaking in such dignified high gothic. Fenring was, if anything, blunt. It seemed that all these years in command had managed to refine some of the rough edges from the Wolf. Some.

 

“What I am about to show you was provided to me shortly after dawn, and I believe that it outlines just what it is that we are up against in this war,” Fenring concluded, and he gestured to Jairn. The Iron Priest reached down to the humming holo-projector and flicked a switch.

 

It seemed that the ambient lighting in the chamber dimmed, and a cone of light emanated from a crystalline dome on the top of the projector. Lines of color shimmered through the white light, gradually forming itself into a life size projection of a man stretched spread eagle upon an angled slab of metal. The background of the picture showed an enclosed set of crumbled ruins, filled with spilt rubble and cracked walls. A basement? The table that the man was laid upon had clearly been placed there for the sole purpose of this interrogation, sitting clean amongst the rubble.

 

The man was stark naked, stretched along the length of the table by cords that bound his hands to the upper reaches, and his feet to both of the lower corners. That he was terrified was obvious. He shivered uncontrollably, most likely both from fear and shock from the damage done to his body. Excrement lay where it fell between his legs. Long, thin slices along his skin ran down the fat of his thighs and pectoral muscles, the skin splitting and resealing itself with every breath in a manner that reminded Torvald of watching a fish breath. He was missing several of the fingers on his left hand, and the stumps flexed instinctively as he sought to dig the missing digits into the table in pain. His genitalia were nothing more than a fused stump, obviously the ministrations of a plasma cutter or some other searing instrument. The thing that Torvald noted most of all was the man had no eyes. Empty, sticky sockets scanned the ceiling of the room vainly, and the man whimpered with every breath.

 

“Now, I believe that we shall begin again,” a silky voice said from off camera. The man shuttered spasmodically at the voice.

 

“I’ve told you everything…I don’t know anything else, I swear,” the man shrieked in response. His head lolled from side to side as fresh sweat beaded along his skin.

 

“We will see,” the voice said. “Tell me about the southern hives.”

 

“I…I don’t know anything. I haven’t been to the south in over two years,” the man paused, choking back the pain. “Once we were deployed to the trenches, no one ever went back south.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because of the war. We were told all manpower was needed up at the front lines. No…no furloughs, no rest. Once you were on the line, you never left. Replacements came from the south, no one ever went back.”

 

“Surely someone must have. War efforts demand supply lines that move both ways, not just one,” the voice spoke.

 

The man turned his head towards the camera, hissing as his neck pulled the flesh on his pectorals open. “If they did, I never heard of it.”

 

“So you never heard anything from the southern hives? No news, no letters from home?”

 

At the mention of home, the man broke down into sobs that shook him the length of his body. A click could be heard off camera, and the every muscle in the man’s body went tense, a shriek of pain escaped from between his clenched teeth, before another click and the man’s body went slack. He shuttered violently, before gasping for breath. A minute or so passed before the voice came back.

 

“You haven’t answered the question.”

 

“We…we used to get letters from our families, wishing us luck with the war…gnnnh…but they stopped over a year ago. We heard nothing but silence…nothing for so long. We were desperate for news…”

 

“So in over two years fighting at the front, you didn’t hear anything of what was happening in the southern hives?”

 

“No…nothing,” the man paused, “except…”

 

The man screamed incoherently, and at first Torvald could find no reason for this. He had heard no click, and the man’s body did not seem to be affected. Then he noticed the rime of frost that had sprung up along the edges of the metal table, spreading in a rapid fan of crystals across the surface. Psychic attack. The man’s mind was being violated, stripped.

 

Finally, after several minutes, the screaming stopped.

 

The figure from off camera strode forward into the shot. They could only see the figure’s back. The form was tall and broad across the shoulders, obviously well build. It was dressed from head to toe in a high collared, black leather greatcoat, and from this angle Torvald was able to make out the butt end of a holstered plasma pistol on one hip, and a sheathed blade on the other. Dark hair was slicked back along the man’s scalp, and one entire side of the head was dominated by a gleaming metal bionic. As the man with the silky voice leaned down over the body, he turned slightly sideway to look directly into the empty sockets, and a heavy medallion slipped from the collar of the coat. Torvald’s blood ran cold. A silver “I” hung from a light chain, rubies picked along the outer edge of the emblem. It was the rosette of a member of the Emperor’s most Holy Inquisition.

 

“Now, you will tell me everything that you know of the name, Einaris”

 

The Inquisitor moved in front of the camera, and screaming could be heard over the blackness of the camera before it once more dissolved into a cone of light, and then shut off.

 

+++++

 

 

End Chapter 8

 

 

 

 

Not much, I know, but as I said before, life is crazy at the moment. Sorry it took so long to get the end of the chapter up. I will obviously try to keep this moving along as often as I can find the time, and I think you will like where it is going to go. If life wasn't crazy enough on the RL front, now we also have the new wolves on the way, and I am as psyched as the rest of you! I really want to get my claws into the new fluff, and see what flavor it may lend to the wolves. Anyway, hope you enjoy this little snippet, more as soon as I get some time.

 

 

-OID

OnlyInDeath Veteran

OnlyInDeath

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Thanks Nat. Things have calmed down a little bit, so this weekend I have my sights set on getting another chapter posted up, as well as FINALLY getting my dread done for the Great Hunt. Thanks for all of you who have been patient with the length in between posts. Now that things have been righted, i'm hoping that the creative juices will begin to flow once more!

So keep those eyes open, and I promise great rewards for those who wait!

 

-OID

OnlyInDeath Veteran

OnlyInDeath

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Thanks again for the comments everyone. Unfortunately, obviously, this weekend went by without any free time popping up, so I didnt get a chance to continue the story at all. That being said, I will try to get something posted up within the next week. I'll shoot for a full chapter, but obviously something is better than nothing :(

 

Stay tuned.

 

-OID

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