Bringing light into dark places

[Aqui]

Gah! I thought that it was an update! I'll just have to wait longer now... :(

 

Ludovic

 

Sorry :(

 

I'll see what I can come up with soon, promise :(

[BassWave]

Gah! I thought that it was an update! I'll just have to wait longer now... :)

 

Ludovic

 

I did as well ludovic. Such disappointment :)

 

Of course, if Aquilanus was to busy working on his steel wings, i'll let him off the hook :cuss

[Dosjetka]

Of course, if Aquilanus was to busy working on his steel wings, i'll let him off the hook :)

I won't :D

 

*runs after Aquilanus, swinging around a massive chainaxe, telling him to get to work on the Rainbow Warriors story*

 

Ludovic

[Aqui]

Of course, if Aquilanus was to busy working on his steel wings, i'll let him off the hook ;)

I won't ;)

 

*runs after Aquilanus, swinging around a massive chainaxe, telling him to get to work on the Rainbow Warriors story*

 

Ludovic

 

Hmmph! I feel insulted by the opinion that I'd be intimidated by a mere Chainaxe! :P

 

However, I do have something to tide you over.... ;)

 

Part 1, Chapter 4:

 

Varagol’s body had never ached in such a fashion and whilst he would endure much worse in his life, this occasion always stood out in his mind.

 

The recruits were told that they must make the journey on foot, back to the Chapters’ sub station over five hundred miles away. That was only part of the ordeal. The route they had to take was over the Makku mountain range. The route was full of dangerous creatures, sheer drops, and susceptible to avalanches at any given moment. The name, Makku meant treachery in most of the languages of Pochutec, one of the few things the natives could agree on wholeheartedly.

The first fifty miles were relatively easy, the route being a gradual incline towards the mountain range itself. The sun was high and reflected harshly on the snow around them like a mirror, making it difficult to see without visors.

 

The recruits were divided into different teams, and whilst Chaplain D’Arque had given no explanation as to why, it was soon apparent to some. The groups were assembled according to the individuals’ progress, for each team had those who excelled at scouting, foraging, and of course those who were natural leaders.

 

It wasn’t always clear which team member excelled at what though, as the efficiency of some was too vague to make any kind of judgement.

 

Varagol’s team had four members with whom he had very little contact, Eh’Tor and Brun’El being in other teams. Pondering the attributes of his new colleagues he had never the less kept an eye upon G’Urg. That recruit had taken very little time in bullying and cajoling the others in his group into accepting him as their leader, although it was obvious that he also keenly missed having his more established cronies with him.

 

Ahead, the ominous sight of the Makku mountain range sent a chill down his spine. In ages past, many had sought to claim the ultimate accolade of being the first to have climbed them. No one ever returned. The mountain range was beautiful, truly a wondrous sight. In the evening, the sun would set behind them, staining their outline with a glorious shade of reds and oranges. Far above, the sky as it got darker, would turn to shades of green and blues, purples and yellows as the Gods would stir the stars themselves to make pictures no mortal could comprehend. Varagol had learned since that it was called a Borealis, where the Electromagnetic spectrum would become visible to the naked eye. Such a cold and logical explanation did not make the skies look any less stunning to see however.

 

The recruits were now over one hundred and fifty miles from the Huaca, and as they travelled further away, the darker it got at night, the Northern pole only seeing darkness briefly during the year. It had taken some getting used to, living so far north that there was barely a concept of “night”, and now that they were returning home, it was just as startling to get used to darkness again.

 

“Do we carry on, Varagol?” asked Cahseo. Before their arrival at the Huaca, he was a lot smaller than the others. He had soon caught up, but after being considered a runt for most of his life, it had made him very meek and reluctant to think for himself. He wasn’t unintelligent, far from it, but when he still too used to others telling him what to do.

 

Knowing this Varagol, always tried to push Cahseo, to make him realise that he was able to make decisions of his own just as well as anyone.

 

“Well, what do you think?”

 

“I...I don’t know.”

 

“Take a moment to think, my friend.”

 

Cahseo paused. The sky was getting far too dark, and whilst they had torches, it was far too makku....treacherous to carry on in full daylight.

 

“I think we should stop.”

 

Slapping Cahseo on his shoulder, Varagol smiled good-naturedly. “Then we shall stop.”

 

“But some of the others are carrying on, Varagol” persisted Shrk.

 

“Yes, they are, but after you nearly fell down that precipice, I think we can afford to rest for a while.”

 

Shrk bristled at the reminder that their group had had to slow down because his ankle had been broken. Varagol had told him many times that it was no ones fault, the range being famous for appearing safe until it wasn’t. Shrk was still not happy though.

 

“We can still catch up though!” Shrk nearly shouted

 

“Possibly, but to what end? Dolgma has scouted ahead and has confirmed that the route ahead narrows considerably. Do you really want to be be amidst the scramble to get across first with the others? If the likes of G’Urg wants to try to cross at this time of night then let him. There are plenty of places in which to catch up and overtake.

 

“Now is not the time.”

 

Shrk looked at both Dolgma and Varagol, and could see the sense in those words, but the wound still ached and he was damned if he would let G’Urg reach the sub station first. Varagol was not the only one who's honour was contested by that Weasel....

 

“So, it’s settled then Cahseo,” smiled happily, “We stay hear until first light.” He paused again.

 

“Where’s Burrom?”

 

“Behind you. I’ve just found a few juicy morsels for eating. If one of you would be so kind as to clean them up...”

 

Varagol rolled his eyes. Burrom was an excellent hunter, and was more than capable of stripping the skin and gutting prey, his skill with a knife well known. But he would deliberately make an Opochtli’s ear out of it whenever he was feeling lazy.

 

Which was getting more and more often lately...

 

Sighing, Varagol and Cahseo set to work.

 

Further ahead, G’Urg turned to face the route he had taken. No sign. Some distance away, he could make out a fire, with a group of shadows gathered around it. A broad smile appeared on his face.

 

So, the spineless fool has finally showed his true colours...

 

Spending no more time to ponder why he had stopped, G’Urg carried on, steeling himself with every stride. For the most dangerous part of the journey lay ahead.

 

The Espurtii corridor.

[darnarth lysander]

very good

[Dosjetka]

Excellent :cuss

*Ludovic lovingly pats his chainaxe, putting away until needed again*

Edited September 2, 2012 by Battle-Brother Ludovic

[Aqui]

Excellent :tu:

*Ludovic lovingly pats his chainaxe, putting away until needed again*

 

I'm glad it was worth the wait :cuss

 

How's the next part of the Elder's tale coming along? ;)

[Dosjetka]

How's the next part of the Elder's tale coming along? :)

I've got quite a bit on my hands at the moment, so nothing for at least a week (but you never know with me... ;)).

 

Ludovic

[Aqui]

Another brief one, but hopefully shaping things up satisfactorily :P

 

Part 1, Chapter 5

 

Come the dawn, Cahseo had taken it upon himself to gather something to eat for the group. They had eaten everything that Burrom had caught the night before. Better to eat well here and be able to carry on uninhibited by way of having to carry supplies with them, their physiology able to go weeks without food. Checking the snares, he had managed to catch three creatures he was unfamiliar with, roughly the size of a dog. The animals had been desperate to escape, one had nearly chewed its own leg off, but had died of blood loss and exposure to the elements. The others were near death. Praying to the Inti...the Emperor he reminded himself, he commended the animals’ spirits to Him on Earth, to appease them, the same way his father had, and his father before him.

 

It still took some getting used to, the revelation that the Emperor was not only real, but even more holy than even the most devote priest in his village had taught. He knew that the Emperor was real, but to see proof, to read of that beings deeds. And now to follow in the footsteps of so many others in His service, he was awed to the core of his soul.

 

A gastric eruption told him that Burrom had woken. Whilst it was a perfectly natural bodily process, Burrom always found it funny to let off gas near his fellows. A faint whiff told him that he had taken to add some of his villages spice to his food again. It was a source of bemusement to everyone else how he always had some left, despite seemingly using it all on one meal.

 

“I take it those creatures are breakfast?” Burrom commented idly, stretching his frame to ease out the aches in his side.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then be a sport and get ‘em skinned lad,” Burrom replied the amusement on his face, stemming from the knowledge, Cahseo would do as he was asked.

 

“No.”

 

Both turned around, Varragol, having approached them in the near silent way that only he could.

 

“No?”

 

“That’s right. It’s your turn today, Just make sure you stay down wind. I have no wish to smell what you’re cooking.”

 

“My cooking smells just fine.” Burrom rumbled,not realising the joke.

 

“Where’s Dolgma? I’ve been up for some time and I haven’t seen him.” asked Shrk

 

Dolgma was a lone wolf, preferring his own company. His skills as a tracker, scout and a warrior was superlative, but his ability to work with others was stunted. He would co-operate with the other recruits, but it was obvious that it was not a natural thing for his to be in the company of others.

 

He would return in his own time Varagol reasoned.

 

Their meal finished, saving some for Dolgma, the group gathered their things, and started started on their journey once more. After an hour, a silhouette higher up the range indicated Dolgma’s presence. The figure was stooped over something, his back to them. As they neared, it was obvious what he had found.

 

Ahead, the trail was slick with blood, and the bodies of nine aspirants littered the area. All butchered.

 

Dolgma stood, turning to his comrades.

 

“I thought this would happen,” he stated, his lilting voice carrying clearly despite speaking softly. “It would seem that in the rush to get through the corridor, tempers were frayed. The Chaplain will not take this news well.”

 

“An understatement if I ever heard one,” whistled Burrom, “Is that Hataka G’Urg amongst them?”

 

“No.”

 

“Cursed luck.” Burrom snarled. It seemed to Varagol that he was another who wished G’Urg ill. Not a good sign for G’Urg. Burrom was usually even tempered, but there was something about G’Urg that got under everyone’s skin.

 

“That matters little.” Varagol said. “We should identify the bodies and work out exactly where we are so that the Apothecaries can reclaim the Geneseed,”

 

“Are the bodies going to be safe here?” Cahseo. “There are a lot of predators in this region. There might not be much left to recover.”

 

“A valid point.” Varagol conceded. “Does anyone know where the Geneseed is within the body? Or how to remove them without damage?”

 

“That’ll be my task then.” Burrom replied, starting the task. “I’ve had some training with the Medicae staff. They seem to think my skill with a knife may be of some use to the Chapter in that way.”

 

“Then by all means do what you can, but don’t take too long. We’re already lagging behind the others, and I don’t want to be the last to arrive at the Citadel.”

 

Far ahead, G’Urg cursed silently. Whilst he would never admit it to the remainder in his group, but the wound that pierced his side was bothering him greatly. The fight back there had both been a boon and a set back. He had lost two of his group, the other groups losing roughly as many. The conflict had cowed many of the others, and they had begrudgingly accepted him as the leader. But his main challenger, Churk had been the one who stabbed him. It seemed like a glancing blow, but over fifty miles and ten hours later, he knew that it was not the case. He was bleeding internally, the wound instantly sealing due to his Marine physiology . Without help, he might be become severely weak. That paled in comparison to his main worry. He hadn’t killed Churk, his comrades forming up in front of him. Churk was watching him like a hawk, noting any weaknesses, perceived or otherwise.

 

He would have to find a way of killing him whilst his groups attention was elsewhere, before Churk did the same to him. It was a waiting game, and for G’urg the seconds seeped away faster than the blood he was losing.

Edited September 28, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Dosjetka]

Nothing beats a bit of rivalry, eh? :D Nice short piece. As always, I'm looking forward to reading the next update!

 

Ludovic

[Aqui]

Nothing beats a bit of rivalry, eh? ;) Nice short piece. As always, I'm looking forward to reading the next update!

 

Ludovic

 

Thanks ^_^

 

It'll be a while until I add any more, as I've neglected "Rayvens's feather, Reaver dagger" (last post July :blink: ), so an update on that is way past due. It won't be long until this gets another one though ^_^

[astartes88]

Still able to make the chapter with the least "Manly" name and make them worth reading!

[Aqui]

Still able to make the chapter with the least "Manly" name and make them worth reading!

 

I might have to quote that for my sig if that's okay :D am glad you're enjoying it.

[Aqui]

At the risk of double posting, another little bit to the story and hopefully things get a little interesting :)

 

Chapter1, Part6:

 

Shrk’s ankle was healed enough after a few days that they could pick up the pace and try to catch up with the others. The Espurtii corridor was treacherous, with temperatures dropping to low minus figures very quickly. The corridor was a stretch of road that seemed to be carved out of the very rock. It was narrow and at the edge, a sheer drop. Even a full Marine in Powered armour would not survive a fall here. Shrk stayed well away from the edge, unwilling to let the group down again. Dolgma was some distance ahead, scouting the lay of the land, happier by himself. Varagol, Burrom and Cahseo were huddled together single file, to try to break the bite of the wind, each taking a turn being at the front. Whilst their enhanced physiology would allow them to survive exposure on the side of a mountain, the modifications were not complete. It was unwise to over tax their bodies.

 

Varagol’s mind was elsewhere however. He had inspected every corpse they had found, searching for Eh’Tor and Brun’El. They were not amongst the dead. Whilst he was able to conceal it from his comrades, he had panicked. His current companions were stalwart enough, and he could trust them, even if they had little quirks of personality, but Eh’Tor and Brun’El were the closest things to true Brothers he had within the ranks of neophytes. He trusted them implicitly, instinctively able to work together without needing to think of what the others were doing. Not having them near was akin to losing a limb. He understood what Chaplain D’Arque’s motives were when he had split them all up. To force the neophytes to learn to trust everyone within their ranks. Unfortunately, it didn’t take into account individuals such as G’Urg.

 

Gurg. That Hataka needed to be taught a lesson. A reckoning would come, even if it took the rest of his life.

 

Steeling himself to take Burrom’s place at the front of the line, Varagol’s hate of G’Urg kept him warm.

 

He had been watching them for days, amused at their struggle with the elements. He had kept a long distance downwind of the group. Whilst they were no match for him, it would not suit his purpose to reveal his presence. It had taken a long time to corrupt that Clan, decades if he was to guess. In that time he had expended much to bend that Clan’s natives to his purpose. He had hoped to expand to other Clans, to slowly corrupt the planet and in turn the eventual recruits of the Rainbow Warriors. Such a coup, to have been able to achieve such a thing! Everything was taken away from him that day, when that idiot T’Lom held that contest, supposedly to beg favour of the Gods. The Sons of the Khan were brutal as their reputation described, despite having such a silly name. Everything was burnt to the ground, himself barely able to hide in a cavern below the Gladiatorial pits. Willing himself to enter Sus-an at such short notice was dangerous, especially as he had never used his implant before.

 

He wasn’t sure it would work. The Dark Gods are fickle, and may have found it amusing to deliberately ensure it didn’t. It did. Barely. And now after so long, he was within sight of the one responsible for ruining everything. Logic dictated that he should cast the notion of revenge aside, that his mission should be to somehow get off this miserable planet and back to his Legion. There were plenty of other planets out there, rife with corruption.

 

However, the individual had nearly cost him his mission and his life. It would hardly do for such a slight to go un-repaid....

 

Standing from his hidden place of observation, he shook off the pure white snow that had settled on his armour. It had taken a long time to repair the damage taken when the Loyalists had bombed the remains of the Clans’ village, with himself far below in deep slumber to avoid detection. It was a huge risk, especially if they had taken the time to conduct a search of the tunnels that allowed him unrestricted access to anywhere he wished to go. But in the end, it had worked. He was still alive. Most of the paint on his armour had been stripped, the results of having to use crude tools to repair critical systems. His kind was used to using the colours of others to accomplish their goals, but seeing his bare armour was devastating to him. But it would not do for his enemies to find out to whom he owed his allegiance. The Imperium was better off not knowing what they were up against. His kind fought the long war after all...

 

Taking a slow but measured pace, the figure walked on, keeping the group below within sight, but staying out of theirs.

 

Behind him, where he had lain on the snow, the soil had withered; the rocky outcrops were covered with unnatural mould. On one-such stone, two words were carved with precision that only a craftsman could achieve. The words were in a cursive flowing script, almost serpentine to look at.

 

Hydra Dominatus.

Edited October 5, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Dosjetka]

Oh, now this is intriguing! :yes:

[Aqui]

Oh, now this is intriguing! :D

 

Hopefully in more ways than one :)

[Lyra Omenarr]

Aahh can't wait for an update! :)

[Aqui]

Aahh can't wait for an update! :P

 

I'm in Cyprus at the moment, so nowhere near my laptop :( but I am thinking about what will happen next ;) *looks around for a chainsword* hopefully it will be worth the wait! I'm also planning a story centred around my Amber Dragons DIY Chapter, but because I'm also planning on having it against a lot of Xenos especially Biel Tan Eldar ;) , I might just go ahead and put that on the Wordpress account I've been thinking about having lately

 

In any case thanks for reading :)

[Aqui]

Apologies for not posting sooner, but there has been a lot going on lately in real life :) However, I have this morsel to give.

 

Hope it whets the appetite! :devil:

 

 

Chapter 2, part 1

 

“Many have asked me about the events leading up to my elevation to full Marine. Some I can never reveal, even to Brothers in our Chapter. What I can tell you is this. Whilst I thought at the time that they were the hardest days of my life, little did I know what lay in store. Be strong. Be resolute. Our Primarch expects nothing less, and neither do I!” - Brother-Captain Varagol in an address to new recruits.

 

 

G’Urg was beginning to regret his actions a fortnight past. The wound had closed up, but it had become infected. His physiology had managed to stop it from spreading too far, but the area where Churk had stabbed him was a dark grey, his skin sticky with sweat. Churk was an expert with poisons, his clan well known for ensuring that any enemy not killed outright would suffer a long, lingering and painful death. Cursing silently as he checked his side during a rest period, he removed the dressing. The knife had made a deep slit, the scar tissue knotty and twisted in a curious circular shape. He recoiled slightly, the smell from the dressing, making his nose wrinkle. Applying a new dressing took moments, but he spent longer cleaning the area, if only to remove the whiff of the infection below the surface. G’Urg had taken to spending a lot of time by himself, and that was noticed by many, although few made any comment. Most of the group was wary of him after the fight, not wishing to get on his bad side. Churk kept his distance surprisingly to many, relishing his discomfort. If the wound did not fully heal, he may have to ask Churk for the antidote to the poison. The loss of face he would suffer would be unbearable, almost as much as he had suffered so far.

 

Almost.

 

The scouting party had reported back, their keen eyes telling them that they had approximately one weeks journey left.

G’Urg decided to wait. He had been patient thus far. Another week was bearable.

 

Just.

 

His mind turned to Varagol. No one had seen him or his little band in sometime. Many had decided that he had succumbed to the snow storm that had raged a few days before. It would have taxed a full Marine to be out in such foul weather, much less an incomplete Novice. That thought gave him some strength back, his resolve to continue returning.

 

Packing his equipment, he rejoined the others, satisfied that his hated enemy was dealt with.

 

Brun’El and Eh’Tor had managed to spend a few moments away from their own groups to talk. In any other circumstance, they would have joined their groups together, but there was bad blood with individuals within their groups and they had thought better of it. A Novice from Brun’El’s group had tried to attack one of Eh’Tor’s group during the fight two weeks ago, the reason was something that neither would divulge.

 

“The morale within the groups is getting worse,” Eh’Tor stated sadly.

 

“One does not need to be a psyker to know that.”

 

Eh’Tor smiled wanly. “True enough. Whilst my abilities are nothing compared to our Brothers within the Librarium, I can feel the unadulterated hate in some.”

 

“You read the minds of our Brothers?” Brun’El was horrified.

 

“No!” Eh’Tor almost cried out. “I can’t help it. I haven’t actively used my power since we arrived at the camp, but still. I can’t shut out what others feel.”

 

Seeing his friend’s confusion, he continued.

 

“Imagine my psychic powers being similar to hearing. It’s not anywhere near accurate, but it will suffice as an explanation. Imagine then, whatever your brothers are thinking as being said out aloud as if using their voice rather than their minds. If one is close enough, or if their thoughts are all consuming, it feels like they are shouting. In either case, I don’t have the skill to completely shut them out.

 

“It’s very draining.”

 

“So, that is why you have spent a fair amount of time alone, brother.”

 

“Yes. It’s to protect my sanity, and to give our Brothers privacy.”

 

Brun’El stood thoughtful for a moment, the question he wished to ask unspoken.

 

“I can’t feel him brother. I’ve pushed my senses as far as I can and dare. That does not mean the worst. It just means that my skills are not that far developed.”

 

“Understood. Eh’Tor....”

 

“Yes, I miss him too. One does not need to be psychic to know that either....”

 

 

“I know!”

 

Varagol did not intend to shout at Shrk, but his constant whining was getting to him as much as everyone else. Tempers were short, and nerves stretched to breaking point. Shrk was currently bemoaning the weather and that they had not managed to gain much headway to catch the others up. Now fully healed, he was able to keep up with the others, but the weather had ground their progress to a near standstill.

 

In the end it was decided almost unanimously to wait the storm out and hope for it to break soon. That was five days ago, and the storm had seemed to have no intention of stopping.

 

“But this weather is unlike anything we’ve ever encountered!” Shrk persisted, the sound of his voice was reedy nasal after Burrom had punched him in the face to try to shut him up.

 

“We know!” cried everyone at once. Being huddled within the only functional tent, with little food and unfrozen water was not ideal conditions in most circumstances. It didn’t help that Burrom had been having digestive problems, although after two days Varagol could no longer tell, save the stupid grin on his face.

 

“Shrk. Look brother, I am as anxious as you are to get moving, but we stay here until the weather improves. That is the final say on the matter.”

 

Dolgma had closed his eyes trying to gain some rest by shutting down parts of his brain, but with Shrk’s constant moaning was finding it difficult. He especially wished fervently for the weather to clear. Being in close company with the others was difficult for him, his preference for his own company well known.

 

To try to change the subject, Varagol had asked Dolgma to lay out the surrounding area on a map to try to get some bearing on where they are. The details were sparse, even to Dolgma’s expert eye.

 

“I’m sorry Varagol,” the scout lamented. “There is no decent point of reference to draw upon. That means that we have either strayed too far from the established path, or....”

 

“Or?” Burrom asked.

 

“Or the landscape has been covered with far more snow, far more quickly than expected, and I don’t recognise anything.”

 

Seeing despair in his brother’s eyes, Varagol put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

 

“Brother, when we are able to carry on, I know you will steer back on course.”

 

“I hope so,” Dolgma replied morosely. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

 

The next day, and the weather had finally broken. The tent had nearly been completely covered with snow. Drifts had formed making initial progress difficult, but eventually the group had managed to get to more solid ground, the rocky outcrops acting like breakers, preventing much snow to settle. The area was sheltered in an unusual overhang, the elements whittling a tunnel of sorts allowing them to continue without much effort. Once passed, the path led down towards a valley, expansive and a definite sign that Dolgma had brought them back onto the correct course.

 

“What’s that over there?” Cahseo asked.

 

Straining his eyes Varagol followed where his brother pointed. Further down, he could see a corpse. As they drew closer they could see that it was an animal the likes of which none of them had seen before. The beast was huge, larger than all of them put together, with four large legs, hoofed. The torso was covered in white fur, save for a large wound gaping in its neck. The beast had massive antlers, razor sharp they found after Burrom had run his finger along them.

Shrk inspected the wound, idly wondering what could have brought down such a creature.

 

“Varagol...”

 

Varagol inspected the damage himself. The wound had been expertly cut, almost beheading the creature. Despite being cut so, there was little blood loss. The cut itself was neat.

 

Too neat.

 

“Another creature did not do this,” Shrk stated. “There are no claw or teeth marks. This was done by someone with a knife.”

 

“Perhaps one of the groups ahead of us had killed it, and did not have time to make use of it,” Burrom replied, hunger making him irritable.

 

“Why would they take such a risk attacking it and not taking the meat. With the exception of the neck wound the body is untouched. The kill is recent too.”

 

“How do you know Shrk?” asked Varagol, ignoring Burrom who snorted derisively.

 

“The body is still warm, at least this part is,” answered Shrk touching the chest. “Also, what blood that has leaked out onto the ice is not fully frozen.

 

“You’re right,” piped up Dolgma. “The others are over a week ahead of us. It could not have been them.”

 

“Who cares?” Burrom snarled. “Whoever killed this has missed the chance to eat it. A mistake I will not repeat.”

 

“Besides the fact the others are too far ahead notwithstanding, there is something else,” Varagol told the others. “Look at the marks on the wound. Novice knifes do not leave marks such as those.”

 

The others looked closer at the wound. The weapon that had made it was different to theirs, their knives being straight with a plain double edge. The one that had caused this beast to die was curved and had an unusual serration along its edge.

 

Testing a theory, Varagol, took out his knife and plunged it into the creatures torso. Using all of his strength, he could only manage to force the knife edge into the beasts thick fur and skin.

 

“Whoever killed this creature was not one of the Novices. That much is certain. Whoever it was had strength. A lot of strength.”

 

“Does it really matter now?” Burrom retorted. “We could use the meat. And even if there is someone out there, are we in any position to do anything about it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, then. Help me strip the slagging thing. I’m so hungry, I was starting to contemplate on which of you to eat first.”

 

The others laughed, including Varagol, although he was wary. Standing aside to let the others skin and butcher the animal, he looked about him surveying the landscape. Straining to see who, or...what killed this animal with ease.

 

Whilst he could not see anything unusual, he was struck with an uneasy sense of being watched. It did not leave him as they left, leaving what they could not take with them behind.

[Olis]

Hmm. I wonder who this mysterious benefactor could be... :devil:

[Aqui]

Hmm. I wonder who this mysterious benefactor could be... :devil:

 

To be absolutely honest, I haven't fully decided myself....yet :)

[Olis]

That's the beauty of writing sometimes - although you might have a plan (or not), once the story is being written, it kinda writes itself. Sometimes a character must (and will) die, sometimes a loose end will tie itself up. It's a little strange when it happens but it'll happen nonetheless. :lol:

[Aqui]

That's the beauty of writing sometimes - although you might have a plan (or not), once the story is being written, it kinda writes itself. Sometimes a character must (and will) die, sometimes a loose end will tie itself up. It's a little strange when it happens but it'll happen nonetheless. :lol:

 

True. And one of the reasons why my SoB story hasn't been updated for a while. I have a couple of options currently, but I'm wary of which way to take it. In fact there have been a few times this has happened. I might expand a bit in the other topic eventually, but not until I've written past where I am, so as to not potentially spoil anything.

[Dosjetka]

Lovely little update :D Hum... why do I sense an Alpha Legion plot here? :D

 

Ludovic

[astartes88]

It's a TRAP!!!!