Brazen Minotaurs

[Hasoroth]

Supplication:

 

In the centre of the square a god sat and pondered his situation.

 

Four years of searching had brought him and his brazen armour to this holy centre, four years of tracking lineages and perusing gene markers. As far as a century before him, his brothers had begun their own work, implanting the families of great heroes with trackers. The harvest of these trackers were sprawled in front of him today, kneeling in supplication to the deity clad in burnished armour, the one who defied nature and shone greater than the four suns arranged in perfect symmetry above the glazed marble.

 

A lip curled. As with all crops no matter how experienced the sowing hand or quality of harvests past defects could be found. The Astartes manuscript had been issued in blind faith and so it was returned, a generation of the finest youths this barren planet could muster, assembled at the tip of his boot, a perfect assembly marred only by the presence of a handful of faceless, craven bastards with hunched backs and withered arms, who maintained only the slightest connection to their glorious forefathers, spitting on the names of the valorous with their malformed hides.

 

This god did not expect much of his followers. They maintained silence and uniform prostration out of unfamiliarity with their present station, how does one look upon the face of the almighty, a chosen son, an angel of death?

 

A thunderous crack, the scream of retribution and a slow cough of patriarchal disappointment; crimson bloomed across the unsullied floor. Suddenly the lone god was surrounded by a pantheon, titans in shining armor, carrying divine machines of ruin in their palms. The first of the malformed had been sent to face judgment, for their failure to live up to the expectations of their fathers. Slowly, more cracks shredded the air as one by one the god's removed the unworthy.

 

In moments the pantheon’s work was done, although the smoke that wreathed the square attested to their earlier fury. Golden shells littered the floor, each one a tombstone, a sign that redemption had been offered to the slain.

 

Scraps of sand whipped across the square, scouring skin and erasing all traces of the fallen. In the distance lightning crackled, howled, whooped. Although the god’s did not move, did not deign to give any indication of what the faithful should do next, the supplicants knew.

 

They knew that the first of many tests had been passed, and that their destinies resided in the lightning that swirled in the sand, wreathing the giant tombs of steel and stone that had crashed into the desert. As one the supplicants arose and marched, eagerly, into the sand.

 

In the centre of the square, the gods sat. They did not move save to stand vigil, to whisper hushed benedictions for their sons.

[antique_nova]

not sure what your on about here and i don't see a base for this story or any thing to keep me reading. it like trying to walk on an ice floor with smooth shoes. I just can't seem to find any focus in the story. Sorry if it's a harsh comment, but i felt that's what you need if our gonna carry on writing and expecting to recieve comments in the future. because us writers have to develope a very thick scin for comments and critics.

thanks

antique_nova

[Hasoroth]

No problemo, just trying out a different more poetic style. For something a bit less airy fairy I'd try: http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/index.p...amp;pid=1874599

 

It's the only piece of writing I've got out that I can find at the moment. For clarification I'll be writing a short little thing about each stage of the Brazen Minotaurs initiation process.

[antique_nova]

what you gonna do with this piece? because i think it needs a complete re-write

[StratoKhan]

I enjoyed it, but it needs tightening up. A piece like that can afford little flaws, every minute fragment needs to be the best it can, because after all, you are attempting to evoke a lot with a little.

 

A few examples:

 

For example, the use of semi-colons is sometimes unnecessary, and disrupts the flow. I could be saying this because I utterly despise them, but I hope you'll listen to me anyways. Another thing to note is that they are to be used only when you know exactly how to use them. Are you sure you do?

 

This following fragment is representative of the problems of the piece as it is.

 

Suddenly the lone god was surrounded a pantheon, titans of grand musculature, carrying divine talismans of ruin in their palms

 

You have a word omission (underlined) where I suppose 'by' should go. The use of the word musculature in this case is misjudged. I take it you are describing Power Armoured Space Marines. There would be little musculature on show, and I think that word should go and be replaced by a more suitable one. Personally, the word talisman used to signify a weapon seems like a hasty association. As a reader I did not accept it. Perhaps this is only my problem. I think that in this story you definitely need to find the correct word for each part to maximise the effect of your piece. Otherwise the small discrepancies accumulate and the power of the piece is lessened.

 

A piece like this will always confuse some people, but it's ok. You're not saying things in a wholly explicit way, and that isn't to everyone's taste. Hope it won't dissuade you from continuing.

 

My advice to you is to read your work over and over and be hyper-critical of every little word and sentence that you've put in there. And just improve it.

 

Good luck! I hope you add - Indoctrination- Revelation and Vindication soon.

 

SK.

[Hasoroth]

Howdy, I'm afraid I haven't paid sufficient amounts of attention in grammar class, I'll go back and remove the offending semi-colons! As for musculature I was trying to convey that they didn't seem human, that the power armor was what the assembled neophytes thought was skin but since it's confusing I'll edit that ASAP. It's really a bit of a departure from how I normally write, I'm aiming to write each section in a different style, have fun with my writing for once :)

[antique_nova]

glady appreciated. because the story depends on grammar as much as the plot

[Hasoroth]

Indoctrination:

 

"For years the Brazen Minotaurs have stood guard in the Segmentum Obscurus. Ours is the holy task of patrolling the space lanes of the Aenid, the void between Ariesti, Delphon and Borneo sectors. For eight thousand years we have repelled the xeno, thrown back the traitor, and destroyed the unclean, and for another eight thousand years we will continue to do so. The task of your father's has become yours! For in you our worthy Apothecaries have identified the seeds of greatness. Upon your shoulders we will place the burden of duty, secure in the knowledge that you will not falter."

 

The man addressing them did not resemble a god. He wore simple black robes and addressed them from a wooden podium in the center of a grand atrium. To his left and to his right all he could see was a mass of young boys, all shocked by their current situation and unnaturally silent, too quiet for boys of their age.

 

"My name is Abban and I have been entrusted with the task of rearing you children. I have several titles, but you will refer to me either as Chaplain or Sir. Failure to do so will result in censure. In me the Chapter has placed enormous faith and I do not intend to fail the Chapter, a feeling you too will share by the time I am through with you all. Fastidium Trado boys."

 

At the mention of the Chapter, Abban's audience had sat up, prickling with excitement and tension. All knew of the Brazen Minotaurs, the heroes of a thousand battles. Had the large man in black just promised them that they would become...Astartes?

 

The Chaplain grinned. He'd seen, felt, tasted the enthusiasm in a dozen audiences before him at the mention of the Chapter, of serving in the ranks of the Brazen Minotaurs. For a second Abban enjoyed seeing the boys whisper furtively to each other in amazement before checking himself. Although close to four thousand children had been assembled in front of him, he knew from experience that he'd be blessed if perhaps a hundredth of that number reached the Trials of Tauros. He'd been a veteran of dozens of brutal wars and had seen his sworn-brothers churned in front of him by shell or sword but still, indoctrination remained his most difficult duty. In time he'd come to forget the faces of his battle brothers but the memories of each failed applicant remained stark in his mind.

 

Shrugging, Abban clapped his hands, augmetics built into his palms causing the sound to reverbrate loudly through the halls.

 

"To be a Brazen Minotaur, to join our pantheon, requires blood and sweat. You have my promise that I, and my coven of instructors will do our best to tear you down to your most basic components, your faith, your zeal, your hate. Furthermore we promise that we will rebuild you in our image, so that you may war in the heavens. Does this sound acceptable Initiates?"

 

For a second Abban thought the roar emanating from this host of six year olds would shatter the heavens but eventually it died down, and they looked at him rapt with awe. Silently Abban wondered how many more faces he could remember. Would he burst? Or would his geneforged brain continue to process the roll call of the fallen until his own end?

 

Sighing, Abban pressed a small button built into his podium, a signal for the instructors to enter the atrium and to start the process of Indoctrination.

[KEEPER]

I defiently like the second part of your story a lot more. It reminded me of my first day of boot camp, a huge plus. Instantly connecting me that much more.

[StratoKhan]

I see your second part is up, nice work.

 

I just read through it quickly for now. One thing that struck me is that the initiates are very young at 6. But that's just my opinion. I was wondering what prompted you to assign that particular age to them.

[Hasoroth]

I was going to go younger, part of the reason why they're six is because the Spartans started training earlier than most Astartes do. We can't have Space Marines being shown up by a bunch of Greeks in the hard core department!

 

It also helps reinforce just how much goes into making a Space Marine, and how barbaric it actually is. They expect to have thousands of children die to come up with forty to thirty candidates for gene enhancement.

[antique_nova]

the ultras recruit from 6 years old and i doubt that you wanna go down that route. i think 7 is best, because the best stories don't follow the crowd they move in the other direction if you get my meaning.

This story feels about 30% sm to be honest, don't want to be harsh, but right now you have the enthusiam and the plot to draw us in and that is the right time for people to stop getting all the nice comments until it's top notch ^^.

so well done, but more needs to be done and i can tackkle it yet, because i am busy at the moment.

example:

marines never say they will brain wash them ( mould to image, if they do it's very very discreet ) and they never ask questions, they give rhetorical questions which fits the chaplin even more.

thanks

antique_nova

[Hasoroth]

Indoctrination II:

 

"Do you want to die in the filth Initiate? Crawl you maggots and keep your heads down."

 

Bursts of autogun fire throbbed through the obstacle course as I did my best to move forward. The sheer amount of firepower they were firing over our heads. My training courses in firearms were still at the most basic level but even I could differentiate between the dull repeats of autogun fire, the cracks of lasrifles and the heavier cough of bolt shells. In front of me I saw Novos slumped in a ball, a massive split down his skull.

 

I sighed and kept moving on, I couldn't do anything for the idiot, his curiosity would have killed him sooner or later.

 

Bloody smears of hydra intestines filled the pool stinging us with every breath we stayed in the killing ground. If we couldn't get through the stakes, the barbed wire or the stun mines within a set fifteen minute time period the protective oils that had been rubbed onto us would start to wear off, allowing the corrosive innards that surrounded us to burn our bodies.

 

A sharp scream echoed from somewhere in front of me and I flinched as I saw Aron slowly dissolve in front of me as his warding unguents begin to dissasipate. He'd gone in first, maybe four minutes before the rest of us. The thought pleased me, I'd been amongst the last yet I was already near the end of my objective. Ignoring the sprawled near-corpses of some of my fellow initiates snagged in razor wire I concentrated on drill-instructor Emerott's voice as I steadily trudged through the gore.

 

"The All-Father is disgusted that craven bastards such as yourself will carry his banners into battle. Faster you failures, faster!"

 

I felt myself tremble as a flamethrower was thrown into the mix, it's deep, throaty roar obscuring the frantic yells of initiates too slow to avoid it's creeping grasp.

 

There! I saw my heart's objective in front of me, a small unassuming length of red wire that marked the obstacle courses end. I reached for it and grabbed on. Despite the pain of grabbing a live shock-maul line I held on for the requisite thirty seconds. I wanted to scream, to gnash my teeth, but I would rather have died back into hydra acid than spit on the face of my father's honor.

 

I heard Chaplain Abban's high voice sing brilliantly through all the filth and terror.

 

"Initiate Ajax has completed the first trial, look upon him as an exemplar of our virtues."

 

As suddenly as it had arrived the Chaplain's voice vanished, taking with him the brief moment of pride and glory I had felt. Fumbling now with my ruined right hand, I crawled out of the pool and pitched myself over the side as I watched the rest of my class begin to extricate themselves from the obstacle course.

 

I had made it.

[Hasoroth]

Indoctrination III:

 

"Subject appears to be taking well to grafting of the Black Carapace. Muscle density continues to increase at a fixed rate of 0.2%, well within the norms for a subject at this stage of initiation. Concerns about possible stress fractures by mucranoid as noted by Apothecary Cassius can be safely ruled out, it appears the subjects pigmentation has altered slightly with the bonding process."

 

Rows of metal slabs punctured a stark, white washed hallway as a half dozen Apothecaries made their rounds of the initiates chained to their operating tables. Occasionally a groan or a whimper would escape from the drugged subjects as the Black Carapace was slowly bonded to their skeletal frame. Great flaps of flayed skin drenched the floors with blood, but already servitors were readying their needle drivers to reattach the skin onto the initiates. The final stages of implantation were nearing an end.

 

Standing at the back of the room, Abban clenched his fists and hoped that there would be no mistakes this time, no unforeseen tragedies that would claim an initiate when they were on their last step to becoming a member of the Astartes. A thousand blessings had been heaped upon the Brazen Minotaurs this day. Usually only a handful of initiates survived long enough for the implantation of a Black Carapace but not this day. This day a full score of young men looked set to seize their destinies as Astartes.

 

A sharp cough announced a presence waiting on the brooding Chaplain. Without skipping a beat, Abban turned to his right and beheld chief Apothecary Lyon.

 

"You worry about Subject-012 in particular, Brother-Chaplain?" the wizened marine asked.

 

Abban turned again to look at Ajax, slumbering fitfully. He was the furthest along, perhaps in an hour he would be awake and after that he would wait only a tenday before donning a suit of power armor. The dour Chaplain had already selected which suit Ajax would wear, an almost complete set of Mark Seven armor that had belonged to Ephere, a storied battle-brother and an old squad mate.

 

"I do" whispered Abban "Ajax has completed all the physical trials of initiation with ease. Librarian Cornelius could find no taint in the boy, neither could the Reclusiasm. You've heard the tale? How he bested the Challenge of the March and managed to pull four fellow initiates through the victory portal so that they could share the triumph? Give him a century, perhaps two. I would not be surprised to see that one in the First Company, maybe even a Captain."

 

Lyon cocked an amused glance at the normally quiet Chaplain.

 

"You set great expectations this boy, don't let your pride interfere with his glory. His warrior destiny is his for the forging, I doubt he would appreciate too much fatherly intervention." chuckled the Chief Apothecary.

 

Abban rubbed his face in exhaustion as a sigh ripped through him. He'd been holding vigil for the new initiates for the last four days without sleep.

 

"Aye, you speak wisely Lyon. But ware my words, that one will bring us great glory with or without my help."

[Lysimachus]

This is excellent work, I'm really enjoying reading it. Don't really have anything to say in the way of criticism, just wanted to add some more encouragement to keep going with it!

 

just a thought that struck me as I write, if Abban really feels Ajax is that good, I would imagine him treating him even more harshly than the other recruits, make sure he's fully tested to bring the best of his potential out?

 

Anyway, fantastic stuff!

 

cheers

 

Lysimachus

[Hasoroth]

Cheers Lysimachus (try saying that three times fast)

 

All I can about Abban's treatment of Ajax is that wait for the first battle to come around :D

[StratoKhan]

Abban rubbed his face in exhaustion as a sigh ripped through him. He'd been holding vigil for the new initiates for the last four days without sleep.

 

I don't know if that bit works for me, he is a Space Marine after all, and his Catalepsean Node allows him to stay awake for large amounts of time. Space Marines don't really require sleep as we experience it, if the background is to be believed. If I remember correctly, the longest recorded period of time experienced without sleep by a Space Marine is over 13 days (Crimson Fists at New Rynn City). But I'd say that four sleepless nights are something most Marines can manage without being exhausted.

 

I like what you're doing here, but you have some proof-reading to do, there's a few mistakes dotted here and there!

[Hasoroth]

Haha I write directly in the quick post box!

 

I'd agree that in retrospect four days wouldn't be too much for a Space Marine, perhaps a week awake? When I think of the Crimson Fist's fighting at New Rynn I can't help but think that there must have been additional reasons as to why they kept going.

[Roguemarine]

Great work brother, keep it up can't wait to read the next continuation