The Chosen

[Tarvek Val]

             “Arrogant! You. Are. Arrogant!”

             The words echo across the packed courtyard, sending burly men scrambling to clear themselves from the path of one fuming Chosen Acolyte Kahlous. For a few brief seconds, Training Hall 11-14 was silent as the Neophytes of the 143rd Grand Host stopped their training routines to watch the confrontation in their midst. Kahlous’s scowl deepened. As he took a deep breath in, the aspiring Astartes closest to him tensed up and edged backwards; this would be far from the first time the sergeant major had taken his anger out on whomever had the misfortune of being closest to him at the time of an incident, however minor. As he let out a deep sigh, the aspirants relaxed back into their training regiments, only to snap back to attention as he began bellowing at the top of his lungs.

             “By the Blessed Four, if every one of you is not moving in five seconds, I’ll kill the lot of you!” Almost instantly, the courtyard again rang to the shouts, grunts, and exhalations of warriors running through their daily exercises for the umpteenth time. The distinctive crack-snap of bolters firing and the heavier clunk-clunk-clunk of assault cannons cycling up overpowered even the noise of the thousands of young Neophytes at their work. As Training Hall 11-14 returned to its usual level of efficiency, Kahlous spat sourly on the ground, a vicious scowl cutting across his acid-ravaged and war-scarred face. He strode with purpose through the scrum of soldiers, dodging punches and sprinting cadets as they went about their drills, heedless of the predator in their midst. Towering a full head above the trainees in his crimson and black warplate, Kahlous moved through the ordered confusion of mock combat as a shark plows through the ocean currents. As he passed by one lean Neophyte attempting to strangle his training partner, Kahlous delivered a casual backhand to the scarred killer's head. The blow, delivered as deftly as a mortal human swats a fly, caused the aspirant's head to snap backwards and he fell limply to the dirt. Kahlous offered a crimson gauntlet to the second downed aspirant, who managed to gasp enough air in to thank his saviour. His thanks were to be short-lived. As Kahlous pulled the aspirant up from the ground with a strong grip, his right hand rammed a short anathame into the man's chest. As the dying aspirant gasped for air that wouldn't come, Kahlous breathed a single word into his ear.

            "Weak."

             Striding onwards, Kahlous finally found himself face to face with the true target of his ire: Honored Aspirant Seprehet. Seprehet met his training officer’s hateful stare boldly, his emerald eyes sparking with casual defiance. The nine members of Sepreph’s combat squad stood huddled behind him, a mixture of fear, disgust, and anger evident in their faces. The Chosen Acolyte raised his left hand, extending his index finger to point at Seprehet. After his earlier outburst, what happened next was in equal parts unexpected and terrifying. In a voice almost as soft as a whisper, Kahlous intoned: “You. Come here.” He said nothing else until Seprehet stood before him. Then, in the same quiet tone as before: “That was an unusual strategy, taking the hilltop. It won you the game, though. Not before your entire squadron, and most of Hallowed Apostle Vendral Hayle’s war-host were destroyed, however.”

             Seprehet replied immediately, indignation coloring his youthful features. “They were weak! Had the other aspirants to the most holy Host of Glass simply followed the plan I outlined in the data-sphere, they would have…” Before he even had the chance to finish his sentence, Kahlous’s hand was locked around his throat. “You do not interrupt me, valskja. Do you understand me?” Seprehet nodded slowly, sullenly. Kahlous only tightened his vice-like grip. “I don’t know what Vendral Hayle sees in you, or why he thinks your worthless presence will benefit the Host of Glass. Far be it from me to judge his holiness, but I see only an arrogant fool that will get us all killed, and for nought. Who will spread the Word when we are gone? Ythiryk and the Silent Reapers? The Bloodsworn? The Defilers, or the Decimator Host? No! We are the last, and the only true sons of the Blessed Urizen left alive.”

             His tirade finished, Kahlous abruptly opened his fingers, allowing Seprehet to slowly crumple to the ground, clutching weakly at his throat. Kahlous leaned in slowly, looming over the prone cadet like a mountain over an underlying forest. “You may think your clever war-simulations will win you praise and honor, but you will practice as you have been taught. You will not throw away lives, not even in simulation nor in jest. Do so again at your own peril.” Kahlous stalked away, unknowing or perhaps even uncaring of the murderous glares thrown at his back.

[in the Tower of Shadows]

 

Darkness, so absolute it is as if the ancient star-void of legends has sprung forth and devoured all the light given off by the planet’s three weak suns. Summoning his courage, Seprehet enters the foreboding hallway and ventures into the nothingness of the Tower of Shadows. After stumbling forwards into the night for what seems an eternity, he hears a cold laugh, coming from seemingly all around him.

“Lost?”

A distinctive mocking tone accompanies the voice, but it does nothing to hide the shear threat implied in the question. Seprehet shudders, calling back “no, master. Merely seeking your indomitable presence.”

“Then be glad, for you have my… attention. Speak, child.”

“Kahlous. I want his head for this.”

“And why, precisely, would that satisfy you?”

“Master, you know of what I speak. I promise that I can serve you well, but not under that hidebound fool!”

“But under… another… of the Old Legion?”

“Precisely, eminence. Any of the others!”

“Then kill him.”

“M-my lord?”

“Kill him. I am not your servant, to be ordered around. I lead this war-host. If you desire his death so much, kill him.”

“I, I do not-”

“Do it, or do not. I care not. Your continued existence exasperates me. Leave, before I alleviate that feeling.”

Turning quickly, Seprehet fled back the way he had come, a malicious sneer spreading over his face. He had just the tools for this job, hidden in a false compartment in the darkened halls of the Cathedral of Unholy Purgation...

 

EDIT: Minor changes to the storyline and names.

[Tarvek Val]

Hopefully you all enjoy this short piece, it's something I put together quite a while back. I may expand upon it one day in the future.

[Apostle of the 30th Host]

Just been sitting in your thread for a while now, so thought I better type something or it will get awkward if I just disappear...

 

As you can probably tell, I am a big Word Bearers fan, so was excited to see this pop up. Always interested in how other people respond to what they have read and their interpretations of it. I read your short story a couple of times, just to take it all in and really see what I think. There is a lot of good in there; a few things I wouldn't mind clarification on, but a good step in the right direction.

 

However, (I just want to clarify, I don't mean to criticise your work at all - this is just my opinion, and hopefully it helps), there are some changes I would make. Nothing major, just a few things a lot of people struggle with when writing fan fiction. I certainly struggle getting it right; it's the main reason I haven't written in a while - I am very critical of fan fiction (especially my own), and tend to stay away from commenting on it as it can be really terrible and no one wants to hear that. But like I said, there is a lot of good here.

 

Not sure what you are looking to get out of posting this here. If you're hoping for feedback that you can work on, I am happy to go into much more detail about what I liked and would change, whilst annotating your existing piece (as I am sure many others on here are). On the other hand, if you just wanted to post it and leave it at that, that's fine too. I am aware that not everyone on here is looking for constructive feedback so whatever works best for you. Either way, thanks for sharing, I certainly enjoy reading stuff like this. It makes me really think which is nice.

[Tarvek Val]

Thanks for reading!

 

This came about as something I wrote about a year ago for a creative writing course. In its original form, it was quite generic and not really 40k-centric; all the references to the 40k universe were added later (to overwrite more generic sci-fi terms). For example, "The Aurelian" was not mentioned in the first draft. I know it is short and mysteriously vague in places and that the transition between the training yard and the Tower of Shadows is quite quick; I was working with a word limit and have not really done anything with the story in the time since, though I could see myself adding details to those particular aspects in the future. 

 

Most of the writing I have been working on lately is quite, quite long... About the length of a BL novella (85+ full pages of single-spaced Word documents), so I'm trying to post the shorter stuff on here as I work on the longer stuff. 

 

Feel free to elaborate further, I always welcome constructive feedback!

[Apostle of the 30th Host]

Thanks for reading!

 

This came about as something I wrote about a year ago for a creative writing course. In its original form, it was quite generic and not really 40k-centric; all the references to the 40k universe were added later (to overwrite more generic sci-fi terms). For example, "The Aurelian" was not mentioned in the first draft. I know it is short and mysteriously vague in places and that the transition between the training yard and the Tower of Shadows is quite quick; I was working with a word limit and have not really done anything with the story in the time since, though I could see myself adding details to those particular aspects in the future. 

 

Most of the writing I have been working on lately is quite, quite long... About the length of a BL novella (85+ full pages of single-spaced Word documents), so I'm trying to post the shorter stuff on here as I work on the longer stuff. 

 

Feel free to elaborate further, I always welcome constructive feedback!

 

That's okay!

 

Ah, that actually makes a lot of sense, and explains why there is a lot that seems out of place within the universe. I like the vague parts (general rule of show, not tell is always good. If you have an idea that can play out well over the course of the story, the mystery is appropriate). The transition actually works - at least that is not something I picked up on. In a larger novel, perhaps the training scene should end one chapter and the tower should lead into the next, but for a short piece, it does the job.

 

Oh wow! That is very impressive. Well I would very much enjoy reading more (especially anything Chaos related as that is my area of interest in-universe).

 

Glad to hear it! Hopefully this helps you - I have added notes to your draft as it was an easier way for me to frame my ideas and make it clear what I am referring to.

Generally speaking, I like the concept and the scenes. You'll notice that a lot of my comments have focussed on making what has been written more appropriate to and in keeping with the lore and the universe.

This is the other reason I struggle to write, but is really good advice if you don't do this already. Do your research! That includes existing novels, 40k background, and (most importantly) historical sources - almost everything 40k is based on real-world historical cultures and events. Identify a theme and research it. For example - Space Wolves; based on Vikings. So read your Scandinavian history and it will help you better frame your characters and writing within the existing theme. It is amazing the things you'll spot doing this. I play a lot of 30k, so noticed that the Varagyr Terminators were very much based on the Varangian Guard. Similarly, the Deathsworn were based on stories of Viking Berserkers, specifically the Ulfhednar.

 

(Ignore the font change - wrote it in Word first)

 

 

“Arrogant! You. Are. Arrogant!” (As are most Chaos Space Marines – I don’t think this is a quality that would be considered ‘negative’. What stage of training is this? Are these men ‘full’ Astartes – i.e. had the surgery and going through training? Or pre-implant candidates that are being tested for suitability? If the former, it would not be arrogance that is the problem, but the lack of brotherhood and sheer disrespect for the Apostle. If the latter, the ‘Sergeant’ would look down on these recruits as unworthy, having not yet earnt their elevation as an Astartes. In this case, show me, not tell me. You don’t need to call him out as arrogant, but talk down to him – he is just a human, what is his worth to the Legion?)

             The words echo across the packed courtyard (describe it), sending burly men scrambling to clear themselves from the path of one fuming Sergeant Brevinski (Not a Word Bearers name – too American, doesn’t work for me! Sergeant is also not a 40k rank for the Word Bearers. Loyalists have Sergeants, Chaos has Champions – or Acolytes within the Word Bearers. Maybe even use the title of Coryphaus – see Anthony Reynolds Word Bearers Omnibus – as this is the title of the most senior military leader in the Host and would probably oversee training. Although I would suggest a subordinate as killing of the Coryphaus may not work for the plot). For a few brief seconds, Exercise Yard 11-14 (Again, too generic American War Film – the Word Bearers basically live in giant cathedrals dedicated to Chaos. I would think of something more religious/sinister – maybe research monastery layouts and use a name from that with a more 40k twist) was silent as the Cadets (No! Aspirants – if non-Astartes. Brothers works if they are) of the 143rd Grand Host stopped their training routines to watch the confrontation in their midst. Brevinski’s scowl deepened. As he took a deep breath in, the cadets closest to him tensed up and edged backwards; this would be far from the first time the sergeant major had taken his anger out on whomever had the misfortune of being closest to him at the time of an incident, however minor (I like what you have done here, set the context as to why these people are scared of him. However, the key to good 40k writing is to show, not tell. May be better served describing his size, power, aggression, military prowess, intimidating presence by the way he strides over, forcing people out of his way and allude to previous altercations rather than just say it – in the Word Bearers omnibus, there are strange carrion-like Daemons that follow the Host. Perhaps a flock of those begins to circle as they are aware that someone will probably die? Then describe how disappointed they are when that doesn’t happen). As he let out a deep sight (sigh?), the cadets relaxed, only to jump (Astartes don’t jump. If they are just humans, they should be terrified – and if they are just humans, don’t be afraid to let the ‘Sergeant’ kill one on his way through the crowd to emphasise your point) as he began bellowing at the top of his lungs.

             “You worthless maggots! Who in the name of the Four told you to stop? If you aren’t moving in five seconds, I’ll kill the lot of you!” (Threats to kill are great! Actual killing is better. First two sentences are too Americanised though. It doesn’t work. Personally, I think a really great villain doesn’t need to shout. Bark orders, but just make him more malevolent than aggressive. Softly spoken, but with a growl and eyes that look into their souls. This kind of thing really suits older Word Bearers characters) Almost instantly, the courtyard again rang to the shouts, grunts, and exhalations of cadets running through their daily exercises for the umpteenth time. The distinctive crack-snap of bolters firing and the heavier clunk-clunk-clunk of assault cannons cycling up overpowered even the noise of the thousands of young trainees at their work. As Exercise Yard 11-14 returned to its usual level of efficiency, Brevinski spat sourly on the ground, a vicious scowl cutting across his acid-ravaged and war-scarred face. (Good description!) He strode with purpose through the scrum of soldiers, dodging punches and sprinting cadets as they went about their drills, heedless of the predator (I like how you referred to him as a predator. Show it though – I keep saying it, but have him murder someone who gets in his way. The people nearby will be a bit horrified, but everyone should carry on as though this is a normal occurrence) in their midst. Stopping only to sucker punch a lean seeker-killer who was in the process of strangling his training partner (“You don’t kill him! That’s the enemies’ job, fool.”), (This is the kind of thing I was talking about, but if they are just humans, and this man is an Astartes, their head will cease to exist after a punch to the face. Show this guy’s brutality) he came face-to-face with Honored (If they are just humans, maybe not honoured as a title. They are still worthless to the Word Bearers until they have been inducted. Do reference his status with the Dark Apostle though) Cadet Seprehet (Good Word Bearers name!).

             Seprehet met his training officer’s hateful stare boldly, his emerald eyes sparking with casual defiance. The nine members of Sepreph’s combat squad stood huddled behind him, a mixture of fear, disgust, and anger evident in their faces (If these men are all Astartes, they should still respect the Sergeant. Word Bearers are not typical Chaos Space Marines. They have quite a loyalty and brotherhood about them. The ‘Sergeant’ is clearly an experienced and skilled leader. Night Lords are more likely to murder a superior. If they are just humans though, this is fine as they are yet to understand). The sergeant major raised his left hand, extending his index finger to point at Seprehet. After his earlier outburst, what happened next was in equal parts unexpected and terrifying. In a voice almost as soft as a whisper (This is what I was talking about earlier – it’s good), Brevinski intoned: “You. Come here.” Brevinski said nothing else until Seprehet stood before him. Then, in the same quiet tone as before: “That was an unusual strategy, taking the hilltop. It won you the game, though. Not before your entire squadron, and most of Hallowed Apostle Vendral Hayle’s war-host were destroyed, however.”

             Seprehet replied immediately, indignation coloring his youthful features. “They were weak! Had the Host of Glass simply followed the plan I outlined in the data-sphere, they would have…” (Seprehet should have been killed for that. The Apostle is the head of the Host and certainly the most feared and respected. No one within the Host would consider sacrificing him and the Host to win, and if they did they would be killed! Plus, if this guy is a favourite of the Apostle, why would he say he is weak? It doesn’t make sense as he clearly respects him in part two) Before he even had the chance to finish his sentence, Brevinski’s hand was locked around his throat. “You do not interrupt me, valskja. Do you understand me?” Seprehet nodded slowly, sullenly. Brevinski only tightened his vice-like grip. “I don’t know what Vendral Hayle sees in you, or why he thinks your worthless presence will benefit the Host of Glass. Far be it from me to judge his holiness, but I see only an arrogant fool that will get us all killed, and for nought. Who will spread the Word when we are gone? Ythiryk and the Silent Reapers? The Bloodsworn? The Defilers, or the Decimator Host? No! We are the last, and the only true sons of the (Don’t need ‘the’ – it is just Aurelian, not ‘the Aurelian’) Blessed Aurelian left alive.”

             His tirade finished, Brevinski abruptly opened his fingers, allowing Seprehet to slowly crumple to the ground, clutching weakly at his throat. Brevinski leaned in slowly, looming over the prone cadet like a mountain over an underlying forest. “You may think your clever war-simulations will win you praise and honor, but you will practice as you have been taught. You will not throw away lives, not even in simulation nor in jest. Do so again at your own peril.” (If he is not going to be killed for that, it should be made clear that it was only the favour of the Apostle that saved him. This time…) Brevinski stalked away, unknowing or perhaps even uncaring of the murderous glares thrown at his back. (The rest of this bit is good though. I like his power, their dislike for him and how little he cares)

 

[in the Tower of Shadows]

 

Darkness, so absolute it is as if the ancient star-void of legends has sprung forth and devoured all the light given off by the planet’s three weak suns. (Commas) Summoning his courage, Seprehet enters the foreboding hallway, venturing into the nothingness of the Tower of Shadows. After stumbling forwards into the night for what seems an eternity, he hears a cold laugh, coming from seemingly all around him.

“Lost?”

A distinctive mocking tone accompanies the voice, but it does nothing to hide the shear threat implied in the question. Seprehet shudders, calling back “no, master. Merely seeking your indomitable presence.”

“Then be glad, for you have my… attention. Speak, child.” (The Apostle has been written well – I can almost hear his voice in my head as I read it. It really fits. The pauses and detached questioning really work as well).

“Brevinski. I want his head for this.”

“And why, precisely, would that satisfy you?”

“Master, you know of what I speak. I promise that I can serve you well, but not under that hidebound fool!” (It really needs to be clearer if this is an Astartes or not as it will influence this conversation and the extent to which they have a relationship)

“But under… another… of the Old Legion?” (Old? The Word bearers still exist as a unified Legion)

“Precisely, eminence. Any of the others!”

“Then kill him.”

“M-my lord?”

“Kill him. I am not your servant, to be ordered around. I lead this war-host. If you desire his death so much, kill him.”

“I, I do not-”

“Do it, or do not. I care not. Your continued existence exasperates me. Leave, before I alleviate that feeling.”

Turning quickly, Seprehet fled back the way he had come, a malicious sneer spreading over his face. He had just the tools for this job, hidden in a false compartment in the mess hall (Same as ‘Exercise Yard’ – more 40k appropriate terminology needed) ...

[Tarvek Val]

Thanks very much for the comprehensive editing suggestions! I will begin to work them in as I have time over the next week or so.

[Manchu warlord]

Bravo sage Zhuge!  Very nice piece of work indeed.  It reminded me a lot of Anthony Reynold's Word Bearers trilogy, which in my opinion were better reads, and had superior depictions of the Word Bearers than ADB's Horus Heresy stuff.  But yes, brother, this is a nice (extremely) short story that I'd like to read more about.  I would love to see Seprehet kill Kahlous in some horribly gruesome way.    

Good work, keep it up.

[Tarvek Val]

Bravo sage Zhuge!  Very nice piece of work indeed.  It reminded me a lot of Anthony Reynold's Word Bearers trilogy, which in my opinion were better reads, and had superior depictions of the Word Bearers than ADB's Horus Heresy stuff.  But yes, brother, this is a nice (extremely) short story that I'd like to read more about.  I would love to see Seprehet kill Kahlous in some horribly gruesome way.    

Good work, keep it up.

 

Thank you very much for your kind reply and feedback! The Word Bearers trilogy was the first 40k book I ever read; I guess I have it to think for my current interest in the genre!