My Collection of Fiction

[Snickers]

Hello, this is going to hopefully be the wordy portion of my current Dorian Heresy Wolves. To see the models they are currently under my old name, Wolf Lord Erik Bloodfist. My friends and I have decided to start writing our own backgrounds for our armies since some of Games Workshop recent works have been shall we say less then stellar.

 

Short Stories

 

The Rise of the Bloody Fisted

 

 

 

                The VIth Legion, the “Space Wolves”, had sent it’s 21^st company to the planet Orrick. The 21^st, under the command of Wolf Lord Swen Ironjaw, had been tasked with the cleasning of the greenskin infection. Ironjaw’s flagship, the “Fury of the Forest”, was slowly orbiting the planet as the 21^st were prepaing to make planetfall.

 

                Wolf Lord Swen Ironjaw was overlooking the plans for battle when he heard a knock at his door. Without lifting his head, he sent his servitor to answer. Moments later, the sevitor return with one of his brothers, Wolf Priest of the 21^st, Thor Dragongaze. “Brother we must speak” the Wold Priest began “we must speak at once”. “Then speak plainly my brother” He answered “You know I grow increasing weary of your riddles”. “It’s about some of the new recuirts, two in particular cocern me” Dragongaze removed his ancient Mark III helmut “Two young boys names Erik Stallord and Jarel Fadoirn, there are distrubing rumors following these two wherever they thread”. Dragongaze took a step closer and sat opposite Ironjaw. “As have I, as have I but I thought they were rumors and nothing more” answered Ironjaw, putting down his battle plans. Thor Dragongaze, so named due to his eyes which burned like the fires of Hel, deeply gazed at Swen Ironjaw “I think there is more at work here my Lord, with all due respect”. The rest of the conversation that follow would go unwitnessed, say for a servitor idly sharpening a sword bigger then itself.

 

                Erik Stallord had justbeen accepted into the VIth Legion. Barely 18 years old, he had passed the trails and was nearing his first combat engagement. He was currently in the ships training center, trying to get used to his new transhuman body. He was fighting a single combat servitor, pre-progammed to use Orkish tactics and fighting styles. Side stepping the servitors downward axe swing he delivered a thunderous hook directly into the servitors side. Had he been fighting a mortal, the centre would have been showered in blood and bone. The servitor merely brought the axe up again for another swing. Rushing forward, Erik gripped the servitor’s neck and twisted until he tore it free from its housing.  Sparks flying from the now headless servitor, Stallord grab the fallen axe and embedded it in the spot the servitors head had previously occupied.

 

                Jarl Fadoirn was sitting in his personal rest chambers, meditating on what was to come. Only 15 summers had come and go when the Legion had come for him. He still had flashes his previous family, a caring mother, a distant father and a young sister. He could recall her face, but not her name and this troubled him greatly. He had grown used to all his implants but still could not master the mind. Deep within himself he known something was there, growing, changing, slowly digging in deeper.  

 

                He felt the presence before he heard the knock, a warrior, old before he even became an Astartes he was universally know through the Legions at large. His name was Odin Starbearer, he was something of an unoffical advisor to Wolf Lord Swen Ironjaw, as he was known for his excellent judge of character and was said to see into the soul of a man. “We must speak young cub” Starbearer began, “I can see there is something different about you boy, don`t try to deny it``. Jarel stood up, neither were wearing their helms, he looked at the ancient advisor`s face. One was marked with a five pointed star, but Jarel was shocked to see the other was blind ``I would be honoured, brother`` he answered. ``As of now you have been assigned to me, you will listen to me, learn from me, and Emperor willing, not get yourself killed in the process``.

[Snickers]

Rise of the Bloody Fisted, Part II

 

                Klaxon alarms began ringing throughout the ship. Wolf Lord Swen Ironjaw had emerged from his chamber, alone and fully armoured for battle. Activating his helmet’s vox unit, he broadcasted a messege across the ship, “Brothers, the hour is upon us! All squads make for their assigned pods, for Russ and the Emperor!” He turned on his private vox to his bodyguard unit, a five strong pack of Space Wolves equipped in Tactical Dreanought Armour, “Meet me on the bridge, Russ may prefer to fight with his feet on the ground but I have a different idea”.

 

                Thor Dragongaze was sharing a pod with nine of his brothers. He had been assigned as part of the first wave, and personally vowed to take the head of the greenskin warlord. Sitting oppisote of him was Erik Stallord, and he was watching him with great interest. His talk with Ironjaw was still fresh in his mind, he had been assigned to watch over Stallord but from a distance.  He brought his weapon up to his helmut and made the same prayer he made before every battle, one to his armour’s Machine Spirit, to shield him through the battle. His words were lost as the first wave of drop pods were launched at the Orrick.

 

                Odin Starbearer was on the bridge of the “Fury of the Forest”,  Jarel Fadoirn, was standing a few feet across from him watching the drop pods began there descent to Orrick. He had thought he would be in the second wave, but his place was here, one of only two Astartes left on the ship. “Tell me again why I have to stay behind and watch?” Jarel asked the sarcasm on the edge of his tongue.  A sly smile on his face Odin answered, “So impatiant, you find in time young Jarel, that there will be plently of time for slaughter, killing is not an honourable thing”. “Not even when it is done for freedom?” Jarel asked, “Not even when it is done for the Emperor” came the reply, devoid of all emotion.  

 

                The drop pod’s retro thrusters engaged and it slammed into the ground, kicking up massive amounts of dirt and dust.  Thor Dragongaze slammed his fist into his seat’s release strap as the doors flew open. Immeditily his helmut began to fill his vision with a continue stream of data. His squad had land one hundred meters or so from the greenskins main lair, his task was to find that lair and raze it to the ground. The pack assigned to him, all armed with bolt pistols and chainswords, were awaiting orders. He activated his vox, “There is where the Orks have dug themselves in, we have been the ones chosen to go cleanse them”.

[Snickers]

Part III

 

                Erik Stallord was brimming with excitement; the squad had encountered its first signs of life on planet Orrick. A dozen or so Orks had set up a base camp some fifty meters from where their drop pod had landed. How the beasts hadn’t noticed the drop pod slamming onto the planet’s surface, knocking down trees and kicking up dust several feet in the air, was lost on him. The squad had been divided into two halves, Thor Dragongaze had ordered five of his brothers to sneak forward and attack from an unexpected angle.  It was a favored tactic of his that had served him well for decades, and he was renown throughout the Legions for the victories it had brought him.

 

                Command of the five had been appointed to Erik by Dragongaze, two of them he had known since before they were Astartes, while the others were older, this was to be their final test to see if they were worthy to inherit the mantle of Grey Hunter. Erik, however was determined to not let any of them outshine him, this was his chance to capture the eyes of Dragongaze. Surely, having the approval of the Company’s Wolf Priest had to count for something?
 

                He was so engrossed with his thoughts that he almost missed the attack signal. The Orks in the camp were still oblivious to the pack of Wolves set loose among them. All seemed to be in a constant state of motion, as if being still was an unknown sensation to them. All through the camp they were comparing weapons, starting fights, cutting meat from carcass to roast over an open flame, and cleaning filthy armor with even filthier rags. Suddenly five near invisible bolt shells and a bright blue orb emerged from the west, scything down three greenskins that had been sharpening rusty knives. As the attention of the Orks shifted to their now dead comrades, Erik roared with fury and led the charge from the east into the fray.
 

                Thor Dragongaze rose from the cover and ordered the remaindered of the pack to charge into the camp. He let them lead, while he watched to complete the pincer movement and cut off any chance of the beast’s escape. As he entered the clearing what he saw genuinely shocked him. His pack had not be needed save to draw the attention of the Orks. All had lain dead while one that was marked out as the leader was dueling with Erik Stallord. The beast had the advantage in strength and size, but Erik was definitely quicker on his feet, and even quicker of the mind.  The Ork swung it’s massive cleaver like blade from the left barely catching Stallord’s power pack as he ducked. Bringing his free hand up in a massive uppercut, he drove his fist into the beast jaw, feeling the bones crack through the ceremite.  The Ork responded by driving an armor knee into Erik’s side. Erik fell to his knees and brought up his chainsword to block the beast’s downward swing. The power of the greenskin smashed through the block and sheared Erik’s right hand off at the elbow.

 

                Despite the wound, he never let a sound of pain escape his lips, he kicked out the beast’s legs and they grappled and scrambled on the camps ground. Shifting his weight and flipped the greenskin off him and kicked himself to his feet. Before the Ork could pull itself up, he plunged his combat knife through the beast’s side to the hilt. The beast tried to pull itself up one last time, it’s life essence swiftly draining away. Stallord removed his helmet and picked up the fallen cleaver, “You took my hand from me beast”, he brought the cleaver up and let it drop, a sickening crunch filled the silent camp. “I think your’s would make a fair trade” as he stooped down to retrieve his new trophy.

 

[Snickers]

Now im sure everyones not just going aw there goes skippy goes posting again, better ignore it :P

[Allfather1]

Looks good. Keep up the good work.

[Snickers]

Major Update

This is the last part to my first story "Rise of the Bloody-Fisted"

 

 Thor Dragongaze walked swifty up to Erik Stallord and seized his injured arm. He ignored the wince and assessed the wound, “This cut is surprisingly clean, for a greenskin” he said as he applied a disinfectant spray too the wound, “But it must be cauterized immediately.” Erik Stallord didn’t bat an eye, “Then cauterize it” he said stooping low to pick up a burning log from the camp’s fire, “There are still more greenskins to kill.” Dragongaze was taken back at the curtness of the reply, but impressed by the steel and conviction it showed. He brought up the burning log up to the wound, yellow flame began to lick as the wound and it hissed itself closed. To finish his work, he applied a seal over the wound before turning to address the squad, “The beat’s main camp is close by, and we must be in position when Lord Ironjaw calls.”
 

 Back aboard the bridge of “Fury of the Forest”, Odin Starbearer was pacing back and forth. The last of the drop pods had been launched, and he and his cub, Jarel Fadorin, were the only two Astartes left on the ship. Jarel was still upset over being left behind and had relentlessly been questioning Starbearer. Odin thus far had answered the questions but his patience was wearing thin, “Boy” he began, “I am truly sorry that you cannot count yourself among your brothers that earned their first taste of glory”. Jarel’s control finally broke and he rounded on the ancient warrior “Then answer me this, why have I been forced to stay behind?” Odin Starbearer took a deep breath, “Because” he paused before continuing as if the words were weighting him down, “Because were not so different you and I”.
 

 Erik Stallord crouched behind the cover provided by the planet Orrick’s thick trees while the squad was preforming their final weapon checks. The pain in his arm was a constant, burning feeling, he flexed his arm, determined to be handicapped by it. At the centre of the camp, the greenskin’s warlord and his bodyguard were the only ones sitting still, the eye at the centre of the hurricane.  Erik grinned as he began to plot of the path he’d take, silently he vowed that his blade would be the one the delivered the death blow. Thor Dragongaze opened his vox and spoke to the squad, “Watch closely lads, we’re about to see our Terminator armed brothers fly”.
 

 The greenskin warlord was sitting on his ramshackle throne; one arm clutched a giant rusty axe while the other ended in a vicious gore caked claw. He cocked his head to the side, a strange sound, almost like engines had filled his ear. He dismissed the thought but he couldn’t shake the ringing in his ears. High above, hidden amongst the clouds, a Thunderhawk Gunship named, “The Bear’s Anger” was hovering. Aboard the bridge, Swen Ironjaw and his Wolf Guard retinue were waiting. “Lower the hatch”, he grunted the command, as the hatch began to grind open he addressed his waiting soliders “Late is the hour, with me my brothers!” Ironjaw turned and jumped out, beginning a rapid descent towards the ground.  The greenskin warlord was on his feet, the horrible ringing in his ear would not stop. The easiest way to make it stop he figured was to unleash his anger on the closest living thing. Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the sun had been blotted out until it was too late.

 

 Erik Stallord and his squad were still crouched deep in cover, slowly; they began to make their way into position. Thor Dragongaze called for a halt and directed their gaze skyward. Six fiery comets plunged into the ground, crushing a score of greenskins with their impact. Dark shapes stood and a lone voice cried out, “The Wolves of Fenris are now amongst you!” Sounds of gunfire erupted throughout the camp, shielded by layers of ceremite and his righteous fury, Swen Ironjaw charged towards the mass of greenskins, his twin wolf claws craving and slashing through the Orks green tinged flesh.

 

 The moment the camp was plunged into anarchy, Erik Stallord and Thor Dragongaze led the remaining Blood Claws into the fray. Erik was hacking a path through the beasts to the Commander of the 21^st. His chainsword was in constant motion; he disemboweled one beast and sidestepped another’s clumsy axe swing. Bringing up his right elbow, he smashed it into the greenskin’s jaw, cracking it into pieces. Thor Dragongaze was fighting a trio of the beasts when a massive Ork shouldered its way into the melee and roared a challenge. Dragongaze met the stare of the Nob momentarily, as it head exploded in a bright blue explosion. Lowering the smoking plasma pistol he turned, crozius raised high and ran to where his helmet marked his Lord Ironjaw to be.

 

 Swen Ironjaw was dueling with the greenskin’s warlord; he brought up his right claw and stabbed deep into the beast’s right flank. The Ork countered by smashing his rusty axe into his left knee, and shoulder charged him, knocking the Lord of the 21^st to the ground. The Ork warlord was bleeding from several wounds, but approached to deliver the final death blow. Ironjaw fought to rise to one knee, before the beat’s armored boot kicked him to the ground again. Swen felt the beast press it’s boot into his chest. He tried a final time to raise his claw before the grinning greenskin snipped his hand off at the elbow.  He accepted his fate, preparing to spend the rest of his time at the All-Father’s side when his face was coated in blood. Opening eyes, he saw a chainblade emerging from the beast’s chest. An Astartes rammed into the warlord, knocking him to the ground.  The greenskin tried to rise but the Blood Claw pulled the chainsword out leaving a gaping hole in his chest.  Forcing his remaining hand into the wound he looked into the eyes of the warlord, “Got your spine” he said grinning, pulling his gore soaked hand out of the wound along with the creatures backbone.

 

 With the death of their leader, the battle for planet Orrick was all but won. The remaining greenskins were smart enough to flee, but a few remained to fight to the death. Swen Ironjaw was helped to his feet by Thor Dragongaze, “Tell me Thor, who was that Blood Claw?” Thor Dragongaze called Erik over, “The Lord of the 21^st wishes to meet his savior”. Erik Stallord was taken back at the acknowledgement but bowed deeply, “Erik Stallord my lord, Son of Artur Stallord” he answered. Swen Ironjaw looked him up and down, “Today shall be the last day you carry the name Stallord, henceforth you shall be known as Erik Bloodfist”.

 

[deathspectersgt7]

Give me my horn of Mead and Venison a good read Brother.

[Snickers]

This is the first part of my second story thanks for the kind words above guys.

 

 

 

Shadows of the Warp Part I

 

It had been eighteen years, seven months and two hundred and forty-six days since Drakkir Inslan had set feet on his home planet of Nexer. As Captain of the Fifth Battle Company of the Adaptus Astartes Chapter, the Guardians of Terra, it was his duty of keeping the Galicc Sector, located deep in the south-west of the galaxy free, from the presence of xenos and heretics. His flagship, the Shining Angel, was on her usual patrol route around the six planets of the Galicc Sector. As he sat in his command throne at the forefront of the bridge, klaxon alarms began to chime in a steady monotone rhythm “My lord” one of the bridge crew members said, “a ship of unknown design and designation has just translated into the system.”

 

Odd, Drakkir thought, he had seen many wonders of the galaxy in his time as captain, from Ork greenskins that turned regular asteroids into monstrous machines of destruction too elegant Eldar space ships that could appear and disappear at a moment’s notice. But this ship was different from anything he had ever seen, it almost could pass for an Imperial vessel. “Raise the shields, until we know their intentions and get me through to whatever calls itself commander” Drakkir ordered. As bridge crew rushed to fulfill the command a figure approached the Lord of the Fifth. “My captain”, the figure began pulling down a hood to reveal a face more machine then man, “I sense a powerful presence within that vessel”.

 

Drakkir turned to face the new speaker, staring into the face of Chief Librarian Arthor Plarrix. The warrior was ancient, older even then the Chapter Master, having just recently entered his fourth century of service to the Emperor. Much of his face had long been replaced by bionics, and his right arm was lost in battles with traitorous Chaos Marines. “Can you tell me anything more Honoured Librarian?” The captain inquired. “I’m not sure I can” The ancient psyker confessed, “There is just a powerful presence aboard, that’s all I know”. This was not good, though Drakkir, never before had Arthor Plarrix’s second sight been so blinded. “My lord we’ve entered vox-range” A crew member to his left announced “Patching through now”. “To whomever or whatever is in command of this vessel reveal yourself immediately” Drakkir said, the words like cold steel, “You are intruding upon Imperium held territory, surrender now or you won’t live long enough to regret it”.

 

The vox crackled once with static, a voice answered, “We seek no quarrel with you, our ship was damaged in battle and when we made our escape we emerged here”. Battle? Thought the captain, the ship didn’t look damaged; on the contrary a wheeled servitor looking robot was making repairs to the left side of the engine but the ship still flew with grace. He chose his next words carefully, “You spoke of battle, who were you fighting?” The vox crackled twice “Ancient enemies of ours, a war that has stretched decades”. Before he could answer the vox crackled trice, “If you please, we have nothing to hide, we only wish to be on our way.” Amusing, it almost made the captain grin, to speak of battle and having nothing to hide, if his life as an Astartes taught him anything, secrecy and battle were brothers in arms. “It is protocol of the Imperium to inspect any ship deemed a threat to her safety”. He paused briefly the unspoken threat lingering in the air. The vox crackled a final time, “We will comply with your protocols”. “Prepare a boarding craft” Drakkir ordered, “I want to meet whoever’s on that ship personally”.

 

Drakkir Inslan, Arthor Plarrix and the Command Squad of the Fifth just outside the ships launch pads. A sleek Thunderhawk gunship was finishing it’s landing sequence. When the rear access ramp of the Thunderhawk began to open Drakkir led the group of Astartes to meet whatever was to emerge. Two robed figures slowly emerged from the ship, one was in the prime of his youth all raw fury and emotion, the other was older, one who had seen much but was unchanged by his experiences. As the two figures lowered their hoods the older turned to the other and said “I have a bad feeling about this”.

 

[Snickers]

Finally an update, life outside the hobby has been exceptionally busy and haven't had much time until recently to write, doesn't mean I haven't had a few ideas though.

 

 

 

The Blackest Night

 

 The rain was finally letting up; it had been consistly raining ever since Willhelm Garde and his squad of Storm Troopers had arrived on the planet Charrnelle. He didn`t notice until he heard the silence, the constant drumming of rain on the roof was becoming fainter and fainter until it finally stopped altogether. Garde stood up from his spot, walking over to the window he took in first clear sight of the planet. From his vantage point, a viewport from an immense stone castle, he could see over the tree tops that formed the jungles that covered the majority of the planet.
 

 The view was beautiful, he admitted to himself, more pleasant then the oceans of Arrgann IV, more serene then the mountain tops of Esstove II and more awe-inspiring then the stars of Barrnax V. Still he felt this work was beneath him, reduced to being a steward on a back-water planet. He had served with distinction in the Imperial Guard for almost four decades, and had clawed his way through the ranks. His squad, officially squad XIV of the CCDVth company, unofficially the `Black Lions`, were among the upper class of the Storm Troopers, they had first fought together in the Second War for Armageddon and had only lost two members since his promotion to sergeant. As his memories brought up the faces of the two, he closed his eyes and clenched his fists, matching skulls tattooed to his wrists grinning up at him.

 

 Willhelm turned away from the window and began to walk away when his vox unit crackled, `Sir`, came a distorted voice `Come in Ace`. The nickname brought a smile to his face, the youngest member of the squad, Jaqq Destor had given him the name when he witnessed Willhelm drop five Greenskins with pinpoint shots between the eyes. He was fond of little Jaqq, he was the little brother of the squad, they all looked out for each other but Garde was sure any of the squad would gladly put themselves in peril for Jaqq. `I`m here Jaqq what`s going on??` He inquired, `The original situation` the voice on the end paused hesitating for just a moment, `it`s worse than we thought`. “I’ll be there in five” he replied, turning off the vox and set off at a brisk pace.

 

 Reclined in a throne, a throne no human could ever fill, sat a demigod. In the throne sat an Astartes from the First Founding, a member of the Eighth Legion, a hunter in the dark and a lord of the night. The demigod was armored in an ancient Mark IV plate, which gave off a constant low hum, it was the only thing that had accompanied him in the centuries of warfare. His weapons had been lost and replaced over the centuries; indeed the sword sheathed at his side was pried from the corpse of an Imperial Fist Captain. The plasma pistol he was spinning in his hand was looted from the black sands of Isstvan V, a black iron X was the only mark to give away its original identity. He activated his helmets vox unit and growled a commanded every demigod on the ship heard “Prepare yourself my brothers; this shall be the night we make this world scream”.

 

 

Edit: Part 2

 

 

 

Wilhelm Garde adjusted his helmet as he entered the castle’s council room, seated around a round wooden table was the rest of his squad and the planet’s ruling class. A single king held the final say but a council of two advisors clad in white robes stood close by on either side.  The current monarch of Charrnelle was a giant of a man named Braadon Nazzer, the man’s sheer bulk reminded Wilhelm the Adeptus Astartes.  The king was speaking urgently to Jaqq in the planet’s native language, Wilhelm was still surprised at how song-like the conversation seemed. He also noted once again Jaqq’s incredible adeptness to the language; it had taken a little over an hour of watching a servitor before he was speaking fluently like he was of the planet’s native children.  The song ended as Jaqq noticed Wilhelm had taken his seat; he looked over a sly grin on his face that never seemed to leave. “Now we can truly begin” Jaqq said, “The king and I have been having a most interesting conversation Sergeant.” Wilhem looked from the king to his squad, all the faces were painted with concern “Don’t keep me in suspense lad” he said. “The king” Jaqq paused “The king says every hundred years for one hundred days the, sorry there is no gothic word for it, the sacari¸ come to this world and” he took a breath, “they cleanse it”.

 

Deep in cold void of space, the demigod sat up from his throne, holstering the pistol, he took one last look at the planet. The natives that they had allowed to live on this Dark God’s forsaken world had named in Charrnelle, the name brought a murder’s grin to his face, in the planet’s native tongue it meant “mercy in the face of death”.  In Nostraman tongue they had named the planet Nishallia Solruthis, “The eve of a hundred nights”. They had fled to this world after the legion dissolved following fall of Tsagualsa, and had stayed for a hundred nights. With no legion to return to, the Eighteenth Company fought amongst themselves as much as the planet’s primitive defenders as many individuals stepped forth to try to seize power.  On the hundredth night, he had bested the former Captain of the Eighteenth in a duel, seizing control of the company and his destiny. He turned and set off, sending a message through his helmet’s vox to the rest of his warriors, “Make for the pods my brothers, the eve begins”.

 

Wilhelm had listened to Jaqq without his face betraying any emotion once, but when he spoke that word, the sacari, he felt chills travel down to the base of his spine. Just then, his private vox crackled, “Come in sergeant, come in sergeant” the voice spoke quickly and urgently. The voice belonged to the pilot of the squad’s Valkyrie, Jassun Travin, and Wilhelm knew for him to use his private channel it must be of the upmost importance.  “Wilhelm here, talk to me Travin” Wilhelm turned away from the squad and looked out a palace window. “We ... problem sir, confirmed prese ... ors”, came the reply so entwined in interference he could barely make out the words. This damned storm it had made communication hell ever since they had deployed on this back water world. In the night he could barely make out the ship, which was his and his squad’s only way off this world, another fact that had been weighing on his mind since he first set foot on Charrnelle.  “Repeat that Jassun, I can barely hear you” Wilhelm spoke into the vox.  As he gazed out the window a massive flash of lightening lit up the sky and he swore he saw another ship for a brief moment before it melted into the darkness. As his vox crackled with static the sky lit up again, three ruby red spears struck the Valkyrie in the side. Jassun Travin’s life ended in that moment, one of the spears hitting the ammunition stores causing to aircraft to explode with the force of a supernova.

 

The demigod was walking to his personal arming chambers when the alert reached him. It was a complicated series of runes in the bottom corner of his vision, and it made him stop when he read it. Another ship had been spotted, this definitely made the night more interesting he thought setting off for the bridge. “My lord” the bridge’s mortal commander acknowledged him as soon as he entered. Dismissing him with a wave he looked at the screen, “Well, this certainly is a surprise; the Emperor’s finest have graced us with their presence”. He had instantly recognize the ship before any of the crew did, it was a Valkyrie and a she was a pretty bird indeed he thought grinning. If there was one thing he could appreciate about the Imperium is that they built some rather fine targets for his crew to practice on. “Fire the forward lances, eighty percent power and aim them here”, he ordered tracing out three spots in the aircraft’s side.  “Don’t forget to shield your eyes after” the demigod grinned.

[deathspectersgt7]

Ran out of likes.

[Snickers]

Sorry to bump but part two of Blackest Night has been posted, all comments and criticisms welcome :)