Aqui Posted May 10, 2014 Share Posted May 10, 2014 After a long time, I've managed to work out a way of salvaging a couple of other stories that have taken a dead end. And here it is: Prelude The creature had banked sharply, causing the plane in pursuit to alter course, narrowly avoiding a collision. The pilot cursed, his native language rather apt for the task. Whilst low Gothic was common place on Petracco, its use was only to speak to off worlders. Trying to get a bead on this flying lizard was difficult, its unorthodox method of flight meant that it could turn on a proverbial penny. It had its limbs outstretched in an x shape, the flight membranes that filled the void between pulled taut. The high winds of Petracco allowed it to soar effortlessly, but required hardly any work. A whoop from the co-pilot brought their attention to the north-east. Another plane swept in from on high, the sun making the plane shine, despite the rust and grime that stained its surface. Another curse uttered under his breath, the pilot knowing exactly who the new comer was. Only one pilot would grandstand like that. Only one pilot who could. The youth in the other plane could barely see over the control dais, his seat padded with as many cushions he could salvage. A warning light alerted his to the fact that there was no reserve coolant. He had already recycled it through the system four times and risking a fifth was dangerous, the filters no longer able to filtrate the filth as it cycled. He didn't have a choice. The vehicle was ramshackle by the standards of most planes on Petracco, but he had pushed it further than he had ever done before. Today was unlike any other day. It was a day that came once, perhaps in a decacycle or even a lifetime. He would not lose. He couldn't. Flipping the override switch, he prayed to Him on Earth that it would be enough to finish this. The lizard had swooped low, diving down below the smog. Neither pilot would be foolish enough to pursue. If the lizard didn't kill them, the toxic, corrosive fumes would. Circling the other, the first pilot could see an opening. Whilst it was not disallowed, he could fire upon his opponent and win, but he wanted his opponent alive to see his victory. Still, it was immensely satisfying to get a target lock. It was too late to see the creature suddenly leave the yellowed clouds and smash directly into the underside of his craft. His co-pilot had been thrown clear making his weapon systems useless. A shrieking noise deafened him, he realised too late that the impact had shaken the starboard wing loose and was now falling to the ground so far below. It would never make it intact, the alloy disintegrating under the noxious chemicals in the air. Bellowing his hatred at his foes, both the rival and the animal they hunted alike, he took out a pistol, a single shot. It's use was far preferable to the alternative, a long descent through the clouds being dissolved, alive. As he shoved the barrel into his mouth, he saw his whole eleven years flash before his eyes before he took a look at the victor's craft. May you rot in hell. Vincento Hubros. Part one The void. Such a literal description implying nothingness, empty. The ship that swam in its infinite darkness was ugly but functional, efficient, but graceless. It did not need to be. At over a kilometre long, it was designed to carry its cargo from one place to another and had done so for millennia. It did so today. The Ferrus Cornus took its time, the port of call ahead was strewn with debris from an age old meteor strike to a moon belonging to the planet Pietro nearby. Aboard, the crew had called a ship wide alert to its response teams. Whilst the return home had never resulted in damage, it would not do to change that. Servitors skittered down corridors, ensuring that bulkheads and airlocks were sealed tight. Human serfs took to their own stations, their minds completely at their tasks, fear of being retasked as the aforementioned Servitors if they fail as much of an incentive as it was due to professionalism. Ironically, the men-machines were better respected than they were, the contingent of Adeptus Mechanicus ensuring that this ship is kept at optimum strength. The owners of this ship, however, kept to themselves, their dour and coldly logical demeanour requiring little interaction with the crew. Unless it was necessary. Upon the bridge, Iron Lord Hubros of the Steel Wings Chapter stood next to the ship's Captain, a squat, heavily augmetic human sat in his command chair. Brass cables entered the I/O socket at the top of his skull. He motioned with both of his mechadendrites across the hol screen reviewing the information at lightning speed. "It is done, Iron Lord. We are home." "Indeed." Hubros stared at the projection of his homeworld, a bilious image set in obsidian. He could see the tox-cloud sweep across the main continent, their swirling form changing over and over. From the pattern he knew that it had just passed over Pietro City, the sheer scale of the city's structure cutting the formation in twain. A shiver of pride ran through him briefly, but was quashed. He left there centuries ago. His loyalty was to his Chapter, to the Gorgon and to Him on Earth. Nothing else mattered. "Begin the resupply immediately. Our next campaign awaits us." The Ship's Captain nodded. Turning, Hubros left the bridge. He was due to return to the Chapter's citadel at the northern pole. It would not do to be late. ==== +++Brother. Welcome.+++ The voice was a deep rumble, the cavernous chamber magnifying the bass. This area of the Citadel was the Sepulchre, where the remains of the Chapters heroes were laid to rest. Some, however did not rest forever. Three hulking figures stood back from the alcoves dug from the very rock that bore the remains of the dead. The central one had spoken, the figure twice the height of even the tallest Marine. Its sleeker lines denoted it as being one of the more rare Dreadnought types, a Contemptor. On this occasion, he was armed with a close combat fist and and plasma cannon. The conflict to come was going to be a brutal ordeal, one that the Wings would be ready for, but still... "We are nearly ready to embark, Brothers of the Triumvirate. We leave upon the close of the day." +++There was no need for you to have told us this in person, Brother. Yet, there you stand.+++ There was a hint of amusement in that mechanical voice, the owner knowing full well the reason for the visit. The three Dreadnoughts that comprised the Triumvirate were legendary, their skills in both combat and acting as a source of inspiration on the battlefield was never in doubt. It was for that reason that Hubros stood before them now... +++You wish to ask us something, Brother?+++ Bayadom, the former assault sergeant spoke, his own vocaliser not as grating as Nishrai's the former Chapter Master and owner of the first voice. +++We have time enough to give counsel if you require it.+++ Zahilm continued. Hubros looked disconcerted, the deeply ingrained hatred of weakness making even the thought of sharing his troubles the bitterest pill to swallow. +++Speak, Brother.+++ Nishrai said, the mechanical tone heavily emphasising the order. Whilst technically part of the command structure, the three had substantial influence over the direction the Chapter has taken over the years. "Tell us of that day, Brother, for we have been inactive for far too long. "The day the Ravens fell..." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
deathspectersgt7 Posted May 10, 2014 Share Posted May 10, 2014 Like the new stuff. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Captain Juan Juarez Posted May 13, 2014 Share Posted May 13, 2014 The following shall be delivered mercilessly and without remorse: Up until the last part, with the Triumvirate, it was all a bit hum-drum and standard fiction - nothing against that and still very enjoyable - but with that final line you made me want more. MOOOOOOOAAAAAAR! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Machine God Posted May 26, 2014 Share Posted May 26, 2014 Vincento Hubrus any resemblance to a certain bratling in another Galaxy are absolutley discredited and denied by the Author! Nods to Aquilanus. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aqui Posted May 26, 2014 Author Share Posted May 26, 2014 Vincento Hubrus any resemblance to a certain bratling in another Galaxy are absolutley discredited and denied by the Author! Nods to Aquilanus. Looks like the last couple of posts have been lost in the Warp And I still say Hubros has no resemblance to that little Fether! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Machine God Posted May 26, 2014 Share Posted May 26, 2014 Vincento Hubrus any resemblance to a certain bratling in another Galaxy are absolutley discredited and denied by the Author! Nods to Aquilanus. Looks like the last couple of posts have been lost in the Warp And I still say Hubros has no resemblance to that little Fether! What you mean as in Can just barely see over the flight controls has to sit on a cushion? Crack Pilot - swap plane for Pod Racer! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Teetengee Posted June 24, 2014 Share Posted June 24, 2014 grating breath The flesh is weak grating breath... Hello Vader. Good stuff, looking forward to more. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Musketeer12 Posted June 24, 2014 Share Posted June 24, 2014 nice man, really looking forward to the next bit Musket Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aqui Posted June 24, 2014 Author Share Posted June 24, 2014 grating breath The flesh is weak grating breath... Hello Vader. Good stuff, looking forward to more. nice man, really looking forward to the next bit Musket Thank you both. It's been a while since I've had the time to write any more, but hopefully it'll be sooner than later when I get around to it Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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