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Olis Venerable Brother

Olis

Posted
Posted

As requested, here is a transcript (verbatim) of Onyxius' story, or at least, an early version (think of it as it's in an alpha state, rather than first draft, as it's not a finished work). I apologise for not having a more up to date version and I also apologise for posting this without express permission. Now, do bear in mind there are tracts of this that will be very similar to my own work - the idea was to utilise the same dialogue but put our own spin on the relevant scene(s), with select dialogue-less passages being also represented. As this is incomplete, I'm posting it in this thread as opposed to the thread which has our completed works in it - it would be out of place, I think, in amongst the finished pieces. :tu:

 

 

~Dramatis Personae~

 

~The World Eaters~

Crocell – Captain, 18th Assault Company

Balthur – Gladiator, Honour Guard Sergeant 18th Company

Sal’mar – Sergeant, 18th Company

De’kar – Sergeant, 18th Company

Brutus – Venerable Dreadnought

 

~The imperial Fists~

Tomnas Krane – Captain, 9th Company

Praetor Dollus – Company Champion, 9th Company

Demus Callarax – Sergeant, 9th Company Tactical Squad

Solun Demetrius – Sergeant, 9th Company Tactical Squad

 

Chapter 1:

 

IT WAS DARK IN THE PRACTICE ARENA; Captain Crocell kept his breathing measured as he prosecuted another swing with his chainaxe. He followed with a smash from his storm shield and then pivoted on his left foot to bring the axe in an upper cut motion. Crouching low, blackness surrounding him in the gladiator like arena, he spun on his heel and repeated the maneuver in the opposite direction: swipe, thrust, block, thrust: smash, block, feint turn and repeat, over and over in a physical mantra. With each successive pass in his regime he added a flourish: a riposte here, a savage swing there. The cycles increased in pace and intensity, the darkness enveloping him, honing his focus, building to an apex of speed and complexity, at which point Crocell would gradually slow until peace once more. Standing stock-still, maintaining control of his breathing, Crocell came to an end of his regime.

 

‘Lights’, he commanded, and a pair of ornate lamps flared into life on either side of the wall, illuminating a blood drenched arena. Dressed only in sandals and a loincloth, Crocell’s body was cast in a sheen of sweat that glistened in the artificial lamplight. The curves of his enhanced musculature were accentuated within its glow. Regarding in a moment of introspection, Crocell regarded the span of his hands. They were large and strong, scars crisscrossed his palms, and they were the mark of recent battles and have yet to heal. He made a fist with his right hand.

 

‘I am the destroyer,’ he whispered and then clenched his left hand,’ and through me the Emperor’s forces will know fear.’

 

An Astarte stood in the shadow, he was fully armoured, the marine waited in respective silence not wanting to disturb his captain while training.

 

‘Why have you come here?’ Crocell asked the displeasure audible in his voice.

 

‘We have reached the Skarllax system captain; the company awaits your command.’ Replied the Marine bluntly, his voice not betraying his emotions.

 

Nodding as if this was what he was waiting to hear, Crocell started releasing the straps affixing the storm shield to his arm and hung it along with his chainaxe on the weapons rack. Looking up at the Astartes that was still standing at the door, he allowed himself to smile beckoning at a pair of acolytes in the far corner to bring his armour. A great day was approaching. It had been a long time since he last saw the Imperial Fists 9th company, but instead of welcoming them in open arms he will kill them. He and a thousand of his battle-brothers had been waiting for this day, having already killed loyal Space Marines they were eager to fight more. Being the first to taste Astartes blood on Isstavan III the 18TH company had painted their armour in the colours of blood. ‘This,’ he had proclaimed after the massacre,’ will be our mark as the first to take the new path!’ Crocell can still remember their triumph over the Emperor’s lackeys; it was a glorious day for the forces of the Warmaster and one to echo through all time.

 

The battle barge The Bloody Path had been involved in a brutal ship-to-ship action, but had prevailed. Repairs had been conducted on Isstavan V , and the ship was ready to fight once again against the enemies of the Legion. Once the Isstavan operation had been completed, the company had been given orders to head to the Skarllax Sector; evidently, a small force of Imperial Fists are currently stationed there and have no idea of the betrayal that had been enacted. Since they have now reached their destination the slaughter may begin. At long last, they will be able to exact their revenge.

 

FULLY ARMOURED, CROCELL strode down the access tunnel and headed towards the bridge. The ship, the Bloody Path, was a battle barge class battleship; it was names in honour of his Legions brutal tactics. Deck hands, comm Officers and other Legion serfs bustled past the Astartes down the cramped confines of one of the vessel’s main thoroughfares. The faint hiss of escaping pressure greeted Crocell’s arrival on the bridge as the automated portal allowed him entry, before sliding shut in his wake. The bridge was a hive of activity, tech adepts, servitors and crew serfs were working frantically at their stations. Screen illumination from various consoles threw stark slashes into the gloom, the activation icons upon them grainy and emerald.

 

‘Captain on the bridge!’ bellowed Sartal Ivanus, the ship’s helmsmaster. Sartal was a human, despite being dwarfed by the mighty Astartes, he remained straight backed and proud before his captain. He snapped a salute with his augmetic hand; his original body part lost on Salaria, together with his right eye. The bionic replacement glowed a dull red in the half light of the bridge.

 

‘As you were, helmsmaster,’ replied Crocell in return, he climbed a short flight of steps that led to raised dais at the forefront of the bridge, and sat down on his Command Throne. Leaning forward he tapped his armoured hands on the arm rest until he asked ‘How far are we from Skarllax Prime?’

 

‘We are approximately four hours away from destination, sir.’ replied a master of sensoria.

 

Nodding the captain fixed his stare on the main screen. The huge display dominated the wall of the main bridge, covered with an anarchic maze of surveyor data and scanner sweep returns. Skarllax Prime loomed large in the display, its gold rings shimmering coldly in the faint light of the systems star.

 

‘Swift Fury reports scanner return in quadrant mundus-zeta,’ reported one of the aides at the scanning console behind the Legions Astartes commander. He was non-Legiones Astartes, though his body showed signs of augmetic surgery. ‘Too big to be an asteroid, though possibly an uncharted moon.’

 

Crocell moved his gaze to the top of the screen, to the area mentioned. Looking closer he watched the movements of the objects that were hanging in high orbit around the planet.

 

‘Tell the Swift Fury to close to within fifty thousand kilometres of the source,’ said Crocell, pulling his eyes away from the screen. ‘Move the Glorious End to a triangulating point.’

 

‘Affirmative, lord captain,’ said the aid. The thought that he might have the Imperial Fists fleet sent a buzz of excitement through Crocell. He had spent weeks fighting in the practice arenas, waiting for this moment. His pre-cortical implant responded to his change of mood. With the tiniest of vibrations, the device triggered a wave of raw chemicals through Crocell’s brain. Immediately every sense was heightened. He could smell the crews sweat, the oil from the machinery and could taste the static of the display screens. The red and black of his armour seemed darker, like freshly spilt blood.

 

‘Swift Fury confirms Legion’s Astartes ships,’ the aid said excitedly. ‘Positive transmission identification. It’s the Imperial Fists.’

 

Standing up from his throne he commanded, ‘Signal the Fleet. Close on the planet and begin our preparations to “greet” our brothers.’

 

‘Aye Captain’

 

‘My lord we have an incoming hail, from the Furious Endeavour,’ the comms officer called out.

 

‘Patch it through, Serf.’

 

Crocell walked down to the Holo-transmitter, speaking a few silent words to the operator, he then steps onto the hololithic plate as it starts to come to life. The tiered levels of the battle barge’s bridge rise up around the vast plate like stalls of an amphiteatre. Light blooms around him. Figures resolve, there but not there at all. Light has been captured, folded and twisted to give the illusion of reality. Crocell knows that somewhere, millions of kilometres away, other deck systems are fabricating images of him out of light. He is appearing as a hololithic presence on the transmitter decks of other stages, for the benefit of august commanders whose ghosts are manifesting to him here.

 

One in particular. A figure resolves in front of him, the Marine is also clade in armour like him only in the colours of yellow. His face was youthful, but the eyes showed wisdom and experience.

 

‘My brother!’ the figure exclaims. It steps forward to greet Crocell. The simulation is remarkable. Though luminous, there is true density and solidity to the Astartes flesh and his armour. There is no lag to his audio, no desychronisation between mouth and voice. Impressive.

 

‘I did not expect to meet you like this,’ it says. The Astartes blue eyes are bright. ‘In person, so I could embrace you. This seems premature. I wasn’t informed of your arrival.’

 

‘Tomnas, brother,’ said Crocell, his voice a soft growl. ‘You see I greet you in regular battle plate too. There will be time for personal greeting and full dress ceremony when I arrive. I am just a few hours away.’

 

‘Ah I see,’ Tomnas replies. He looks at someone not caught inside the hololithic field of his bridge. ‘The shipmaster says you will be arriving in four hours.’

 

‘Decelerating fast,’ Crocell says while smiling.

 

‘We will meet together then, you and your officers. Me and mine.’ Crocell looks at the Sergeants whose images have appeared around Tomnas’s. They all appear to be connected from different locations. He’d forgotten the knightly stature of Praetor. The sneer of Demus and the imposing bulk of Solun.

 

‘It seems you all haven’t changed,’ Crocell notes.

 

‘Indeed, sir,’ says Praetor.

 

‘We will meet shortly, brother. My vessel is entering orbit.’

 

‘Welcome to Skarllax Prime,’ says Tomnas Krane.

 

The light phantoms salute Crocell, with that the images disappear.

 

Chapter 2:

 

PRAETOR DOLLUS, COMPANY CHAMPION of the 9th company Imperial Fists stood at attention on the assembly deck. Twenty Terminators were at attention, the mightiest of them protecting the gates to the inner sanctum, the War Room. Rendered like statues by the bright light that came from the roof, the fearsome visage of the Terminators put Praetor in mind of the ancient myths of the Greeco Titans that stood sentinel over the heavens.

 

Tomnas Krane stood beside him, resplendent in his gleaming, golden yellow battle armour and wearing a royal red cloak around his shoulders.

 

‘It will do my heart proud to see Crocell again, Praetor,’ said Tomnas and Praetor risked a sidelong glance at the captain of the 9th company, hearing a note of wariness in his lord’s voice that echoed his feelings on the matter.

 

‘My lord?’ he asked. ‘Is something the matter?’

 

Tomnas turned his gaze on Praetor and said, ‘No, not exactly, my friend, but you were there when we parted from the World Eaters after the victory over the Neloros. You know that our Legiones did not part as brothers in arms should.’

 

Praetor nodded, remembering well the ceremony of parting on the upper embarkation deck of the Furious Endeavour. The ceremony was to be held aboard Crocell’s flagship, for the Furious Endeavour had suffered severe damage when it took a broadside against its flank, when it intercepted a Neloros vessel closing on Crocell’s Stormbird the Devourer of Worlds, and the captain of the 18th had deemed it unfit for ceremony for such magnitude.

 

Though such a proclamation had incensed its captain and crew, Tomnas had laughed off his brother’s hasty words and agreed to come aboard the Bloody Path.

 

Surrounded by the Terminators, Tomnas Krane and Praetor had marched through the ranks of heavily armoured Gladiator Guard towards the waiting forms of Crocell and his officers. The march had felt like they were running a gauntlet of enemy warriors instead of the praetorians of their closest brothers. In Praetor’s eyes, the ceremony had been concluded with unseemly haste, Crocell taking his fellow captain in an embrace that was awkward as their first had been joyous. Tomnas must have surely have noticed the change in his brother’s mien, but he had said nothing upon their return to the Endeavour. A tightening of the captain’s jaw as he watched the 435th Expedition translate into the churning maelstrom of the warp had been the only indication that he felt slighted by his brother’s coldness.

 

‘You think Crocell still feels affronted by what happened at the Telerach Star?’

 

Tomnas did not answer immediately, and Praetor knew that was exactly what was bothering his captain. ‘We saved him and his precious Stormbird from being blown to bits,’ continued Praetor. ‘Crocell should be grateful.’

 

Tomnas chuckled and said, ‘You don’t know Crocell then. That he needed help at all is unthinkable to him, for it suggests that he acted in a manner less then… expected of him. Be sure not to mention it around him, Dollus. I’m serious.’

 

Praetor shook his head, his lips curled in a sneer. ‘Too damn proud the lot of them, did you see the way their Champion sized me up when we first boarded the Bloody Path? You didn’t have to be old Caldor to feel the condescension coming from him. They think they’re better than us. You can see it in every one of their faces.’

 

Tomnas turned to face him, and the full power of his aquatic blue eyes bored in to Praetor, their cold depths chilling in their controlled anger. Praetor knew he’d gone too far, and he cursed his pride within him that he gave voice to that thought.

 

‘My apologies, lord,’ he said. ‘I spoke out of turn.’

 

As quickly as Tomnas’s ire had risen at his fiery words, it subsided, and leaned down close to Praetor, his voice little more than a whisper. ‘Yes you did, but you spoke from your heart, and that is why your are my champion. It’s true that this rendezvous is unexpected, for I did not request the presence of the World Eaters to aid us. The 48th Expedition needs no assistance in defeating rebels.’

 

‘Then why are they here?’ asked Praetor

 

‘I do not know, though I welcome the chance to see my brother again and heal the rifts between us.’

 

‘Perhaps he feels the same and comes to make amends.’

 

‘I doubt it,’ said Tomnas. ‘It is not in Crocell’s nature to admit when he is wrong.’

 

THE GREAT GOLD gates of the assembly deck swung open, and Crocell marched towards them with his flowing, fur lined cape billowing in the heated gusts of air from the vents. He stood for a moment at the chamber’s threshold, knowing that to step across the line was to set foot on a road that will see him betray his brother. He saw Tomnas Krane with his Company Champion flanking him, the grim form of his Praetorian Bodyguards placed around the chamber perimeter.

 

Balthur, resplendent in his Terminator armour, and full ten of the Gladiator Guard accompanied him to mark the gravity of the moment. When Crocell sensed the moment was right, he stepped into the heated light of the assembly deck and marched to stand before his brother captain. Balthur remained at his side, as the Gladiator Guard moved to join the Praetorians at the chamber’s edge so that there was a red and gold armoured twin for each of the yellow-gold skinned Terminators. The risk of approaching Tomnas like this was great, but the rewards to be reaped upon killing him outweighed any doubts he might once have had. The Warmaster has already begun the process of killing the other legions that weren’t loyal to his cause.

 

‘Tomnas,’ he said, opening his arms to his brother, ‘it gladdens me to see you again.’ Tomnas embraced him, and Crocell felt his love for his brother swell in his chest.

 

‘It is an unexpected joy to see you my brother,’ said Tomnas, stepping back and, looking him up and down.

 

‘What brings you to the Skarllax system? Are we not prosecuting the foe quickly enough for the Warmaster?’

 

‘On the contrary,’ beamed Crocell, ’the Warmaster himself sends his compliments and bids me honour you for the speed of your conquests.’ He bit back a grin as he felt the pride of achievement fill every warrior of the Imperial Fists in the chamber. Of course the Warmaster had said no such thing, but a little flattery never failed to win over the hearts and minds at such times.

 

‘You hear that, my brothers!’ shouted Tomnas Krane. ‘The Warmaster honours us! Glory to the VII Legion!’

 

‘Glory to the VIILegion!’ bellowed the Imperial Fists. Tomnas clapped his armoured hand on Crocell’s shoulder and said, ‘But come, brother. Aside from passing on the Warmaster’s honour, what brings you here?’

 

Crocell smiled and flexed Bloodfiend. He had deemed it impolitic to come before Tomnas without the power claw his brother had forged beneath Mount Kalush over a century ago. Tomnas saw the gesture and reached behind him to lift Lightnius, the great sword that Crocell had crafted. The two captains smiled, and one again their brotherhood was obvious to all.

 

‘You are right, Tomnas there is more that I would speak of, but it is for your ears alone, ‘said Crocell. ‘It concerns the very future of the Great Crusade.’ Suddenly serious, Tomnas nodded and said, ‘Then we shall talk in my private sanctum.’

 

SAL’MAR STOOD RIGIDLY to attention on the bridge of the Bloody Path, his mind was filled with agony as he watched the drifting slab of steel and gold that was the Furious Endeavour through the viewing bay. The ship was a small beast, decided Sal’mar its hull still scarred and unpainted after the damage done to it during the battle of the Telerach Star. What kind of Legion would travel in a vessel so unfitted to the warriors it carried? Sal’mar felt his choler rise and struggle to control it as he found himself crushing the brass rails around the command pulpit. Forcing himself to calm down he reminded himself of the duty that was tasked to him, the captain had given him explicit orders, that will be the death of all those aboard the Furious Endeavour , and it would be the death of them all if he fail when called upon. Crocell had specifically selected him for this role, for he knew there was no warrior within the 18th Company, who would not hesitate or suffer any conflict or conscience at doing what might have to be done.

 

‘Helmsmaster signaled the fleet to be read on my command,’ said Sal’mar, his anger subsiding. He was pleased, already all troops were on standby within their boarding pods and the Company elite were waiting to be teleported into enemy ship, all was in order. He knew with one order, he could visit unimaginable destruction upon the Imperial Fists. The thought made him sweat, his implants sending jolts of sensations into his body. Despite himself he hoped the attack would happen soon.

 

TOMNAS KRANE KEPT his most prized relics and personal trophies within his personal sanctum. Its gleaming walls were fashioned from smooth, glassy onyx and hung with all manner of wondrous weapons, armour and banners. A vast oak table sat in the centre of the chamber, and Tomnas had long ago declared that none save his closest brothers were permitted to enter his private sanctum. Crocell himself had only set foot in it once before. Yordal of the III Legion had once declared it a magical place, using the language of his home world to describe the magnificence it contained. Tomnas circled the room, pointing his sword at the magnificent creations he had found, and which hung upon his wall.

 

‘There is nothing in weapons, machinery, or engineering devices that obliges them to be ugly,’ said Tomnas. ‘Ugliness is a measure of imperfection. You of all people should appreciate that.’

 

‘I care for no such thing, brother.’ replied Crocell back.

 

Tomnas snorted in amusement then faced Crocell and said in a mild tone, ‘Now come on then, what’s this all about? You speak of the future of the Great Crusade, what is going on?’

 

‘The galaxy is changing… brother. What we once knew is dying and already brother is fighting brother, the Warmaster has set plans into motion already his forces are going against the Imperium it is only a matter of time until he wins the war.’ Replied Crocell his face full of joy, he felt his body flood with sensation as he finally said what needed to be said, the truth. Tomnas’s face was pale and horrified. Knowing he had to say more, he said, ‘Others have already joined Horus. We will strike before the Emperor is even aware that his designs have been unmasked. Horus will reclaim the galaxy in the name of those whose blood was spent to conquer it!’ Crocell wanted to laugh as the words spilled from him, the thrill of finally unburdening himself almost too great to stand. Tomnas shook his head, and Crocell smiled as he saw his brother’s horror turning to fury.

 

‘This is the new direction of the Crusade you spoke of?’

 

‘Yes!’ cried Crocell. ‘It will be a glorious age of unity, my brother. What we have won is already being given away to petty mortals who will waste the glories we have won for them. What we have earned in blood and sweat will be ours again, can’t you see that?’

 

‘All I see is betrayal, Crocell!’ roared Tomnas Krane. ‘You are not talking about claiming back what we have won; you are talking about betraying everything we stand for!’

 

He saw the colour flood back into Tomnas’s face, a raw and bellicose red that he knew all too well.

 

‘Tomnas, I am asking you this for the sake of brotherhood, join us!’

 

‘Brotherhood?’ bellowed Tomnas. ‘Our brotherhood died when you decided to turn traitor!’

 

Crocell backed away from his brother as he saw the murderous intent in his blazing eyes. Crocell brought his Bloodfiend into flaring life, as Tomnas swung his sword for his head with blinding speed. The two weapons rang with a clash of steel that Crocell felt echo in the very depths of his soul. Lightning crackled from both of the weapons. The two captains stood locked together, Crocell pressing his lightning claw towards Tomnas, and the commander of the Imperial Fists 9th Company holding him at bay with his sword. Burning light and sound filled the Chamber, the weapons roaring as the unimaginable forces harnessed in their creation were unleashed. Tomnas dropped his guard and hammered his fist into Crocell’s face, the force of the blow enough to break his cheek bone. Crocell rode the blow and smashed his forehead into his brother’s face, spinning on his heel and slashing his crackling blades towards Tomnas’s throat. The blades clanged off of Tomnas’s shoulder pad as he reeled backwards leaving deep furrows in the ceramit. Tomnas spun away from the return strike and swung his sword one handed as he bought some space with his wide swings. The two warriors circled one another warily, both aware of how deadly the other could be, having fought side by side on a few occasions.

 

‘This is pointless, Tomnas,’ said Crocell. ‘Even now the Warmaster is getting rid of all the Legions who didn’t side with him, none are allowed to survive.’

 

‘What are you talking about traitor?’ demanded Tomnas.

 

Crocell laughed. ‘The powers of four Legions were unleashed on Isstavan III, and only those portions that weren’t loyal to the Warmaster and hid grand designs for the future of the galaxy were killed. These weak elements are dead, cleansed by the fire of viral bombs and the fury of those loyal to the cause.’

 

‘The Life Eater?’ whispered Tomnas, and Crocell relished the horror he saw in his brother’s eyes.

 

‘Throne alive, Crocell, how could you be a party to such murder?’

 

Wild laughter bubbled up inside Crocell, and he leapt to attack, his blazing lightning claw cleaving the air in a fiery arc. Once more, Tomnas’s sword came up to block the blow, but it was not a weapon meant for continuous strikes , and Crocell rolled the blades over the sword and stabbed for his brother’s face.

 

The crackling claw scored along Tomnas’s cheek, the skin blackening and bubbling, and his brother cried out as the lightning claw he had forged dealt him a grievous wound. Blinded for the briefest second, he staggered away from Crocell. Crocell stepped in, not letting his brother widen the gap, and smashed the fist repeatedly into Tomnas’s face, hearing bone splinter beneath his assault. Tomnas reeled from the punches, blood drenching his face. Crocell’s senses shrieked with pleasure at the sight of his brother’s death. As Tomnas stumbled, blinded and incoherent, Crocell closed and swung Bloodfiend for Tomnas’s neck. The arced towards Tomnas, but instead of raising his weapon to block the blow, he dropped the sword and turned into the blow, catching the descending claw in his armoured fist.

 

 

 

And here's a slightly later version of a part of the fight scene:

 

 

The crackling claw scored along Tomnas’s cheek, the skin blackening and bubbling, and his brother cried out as the lightning claw he had forged dealt him a grievous wound. Blinded for the briefest second, he staggered away from Crocell. Crocell stepped in, not letting his brother widen the gap, and smashed the fist repeatedly into Tomnas’s face, hearing bone splinter beneath his assault. Tomnas reeled from the punches, blood drenching his face. Crocell’s senses shrieked with pleasure at the sight of his brother’s death. As Tomnas stumbled, blinded and incoherent, Crocell closed and swung Bloodfiend for Tomnas’s neck. The arced towards Tomnas, but instead of raising his weapon to block the blow, he dropped the sword and turned into the blow, catching the claws vambrace. Crocell chuckled as he saw how the doomed Imperial Captain tried to pull the weapon away.

Tomnas looked up smiling, in his right hand the exotic pistol was whining, rising in pitch. “For the Emperor.’ Hissed Tomnas.

 

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the pistol exploded in a bright flare of molten metal. Both warriors were hurled from their feet by the force of the blast, their armour and flesh burned by white hot pieces of metal. Crocell rolled and blinked stars from his eyes, stunned by the force of the explosion. He still wore Bloodfiend, though most of the claw was a smoking ruin. The sight of the ruined claw penetrated the red mist of rage that drove him and the symbolism of the weapon’s destruction was not lost on him. Tomnas should be dead to him and would rather die than join the new galactic order of the Warmaster. He had hoped it would not come to this, but he knew that there was no other way this drama could end. Tomnas lay insensible, his right arm a smouldering wreck from the explosion, striations and scores decorated his once pristine chest plate. Crocell pushed himself to his feet as his brother groaned at the horror of what had transpired within his sanctum.

 

Crocell leaned down and took his brother’s sword, a weapon he had poured his heart and soul into, a weapon that had been forged for his own hand in a time that seemed as though it belonged to another age. The weapon felt good, and he hefted it easily over one shoulder as he stood triumphantly over his brother’s recumbent body. Tomnas propped himself up on his elbows and looked up through blood gummed eyes.

 

‘You had best kill me, for I’ll see you dead if you do not.’

 

Crocell nodded and raised Nihilanth over his head, ready to deliver the deathblow. The mighty great sword trembled in his grip, though Crocell knew that it was not its weight that made it do so, but the realization of what he was about to do. The darkness of his eyes met with the aqua blue of his former brother’s, and he felt his resolve waver in the face of the murder he was about to commit.

 

He lowered the sword and said, ‘You are my brother, Tomnas. I would have walked unto death. Why could you not have done the same for me?’

 

‘You are not my brother, ‘ spat Tomnas through the blood of his ruined face. Crocell swallowed hard as he sought to summon the strength to do what he knew must be done. He heard a dim howl, a gurgle that screamed at him to crush the life from Tomnas Krane, but its entreaties were drowned by the memories of the great friendship he had once shared with his brother, for what could compete with such a bond?

 

‘I will always be your brother, said Crocell, and swung the sword in an upward arc that connected with his neck. Tomnas’s body fell to the floor, headless. The voice screamed in his head louder now, revelling in the slaughter he had just enacted, but Crocell ignored it and turned away from his dead brother. He kept hold of the sword and made his way to the Sanctum doors that led back outside. Behind him, Tomnas Kranes head lay on the ground looking at him in lament.

Olis Venerable Brother

Olis

Posted
Posted
I'm not sure about that. He's got a finished version of his own already (and the WE characters are mostly his) - however a new World Eaters story would be very nice, I think. If you fancy doing a collaboration, I could always pick up one of the factions that have been dropped and run with them. :)
Unknown Chronicler Veteran

Unknown Chronicler

Posted
Posted
that sounds great, though I don't want to take the glory of the World Eaters away from Onyxius, so I'll decide on a new one. I'll PM you Olisredan on my descision, but I would be happy to do a collaberation :)
Olis Venerable Brother

Olis

Posted
Posted

Alrighty then. I'll have a look at who's left, Legion-wise.

 

Edit - Okay then, this is what we've got so far in terms of progress (I've colour coded it):

 

LEGIONS

 

I Dark Angels - Ferrus Manus/Tyear OPEN

III- Emperor's Children - Darnath Lysander IN PROGRESS

IV Iron Warriors - ChaptermasterDemon7 IN PROGRESS

V White Scars - ThisisJimmy IN PROGRESS

VI Space Wolves - Aquilanus OPEN

VII Imperial Fists - Olisredan COMPLETE

VIII Night lords - 1000Heathens/TheGodComplex IN PROGRESS

IX Blood Angels - The Emperor 111 IN PROGRESS

X Iron Hands - Deus Ex Ferrum COMPLETE

XII World Eaters - Chapter Master Onyxius/ColdWinter IN PROGRESS

XIII Ultramarines - Captain Idaho IN PROGRESS

XIV Death Guard - GooseDaMoose IN PROGRESS

XV Thousand Sons - Dominicus IN PROGRESS

XVI Sons of Horus - Captain Uriel Ventris IN PROGRESS

XVII Word Bearers - Dark Apostle Thirst OPEN

XVIII Salamanders - Rune Priest Ridcully OPEN

XIX Raven Guard - Calgar101 IN PROGRESS

XX Alpha Legion - Witchunter Kraine IN PROGRESS

 

Sisters of Silence - OPEN

Adeptus Custodes - Alkana OPEN

 

 

 

So, that leaves me with the choice of Dark Angels, Space Wolves, Word Bearers, Salamanders, the Sisters of Silence and the Adeptus Custodes. Hmm. I might be leaning towards the Salamanders...

Olis Venerable Brother

Olis

Posted
Posted

That's a third author finished - this is what the list looks like now:

 

LEGIONS

 

I Dark Angels - Ferrus Manus/Tyear OPEN

III- Emperor's Children - Darnath Lysander IN PROGRESS

IV Iron Warriors - ChaptermasterDemon7 COMPLETE

V White Scars - ThisisJimmy IN PROGRESS

VI Space Wolves - Aquilanus OPEN

VII Imperial Fists - Olisredan COMPLETE

VIII Night lords - 1000Heathens/TheGodComplex IN PROGRESS

IX Blood Angels - The Emperor 111 IN PROGRESS

X Iron Hands - Deus Ex Ferrum COMPLETE

XII World Eaters - Chapter Master Onyxius/ColdWinter IN PROGRESS

XIII Ultramarines - Captain Idaho IN PROGRESS

XIV Death Guard - GooseDaMoose IN PROGRESS

XV Thousand Sons - Dominicus IN PROGRESS

XVI Sons of Horus - Captain Uriel Ventris IN PROGRESS

XVII Word Bearers - Dark Apostle Thirst OPEN

XVIII Salamanders - Rune Priest Ridcully OPEN

XIX Raven Guard - Calgar101 IN PROGRESS

XX Alpha Legion - Witchunter Kraine IN PROGRESS

 

Sisters of Silence - OPEN

Adeptus Custodes - Alkana OPEN

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