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Rapid Fire Challenge: In/Affection - February 2020


Race Bannon
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Prompt: In/Affection 

Maximum length: 500 words

Deadline: 29 February 2020

Where to post submissions: In this thread

Note - please make sure all submissions adhere to the forum rules. Any entry that breaks one or more rules shall be removed.


To be sure, this is the month of love :wub: and most people are affected ... or infected ... by it.

 

You know what I mean :ph34r.:

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T'is a delicacy to be sure.

 

I have allowed Druhxila to flay the human down to the ruddy flesh beneath it's pale skin.  The slave whimpers, a half-corpse hanging in the warp-silver restraints.  I can smell the grisly perfume of seared meat.  It is intoxicating.

 

"The pain is but a morsel dear."  Druhxila casts a dangerous eye over her shoulder.

 

In a flash I am up, out of my throne, where the sadistic harpy preys on my slaves, to make a banquet, a feast.  She smiles, knowing she has provoked me.  I reach for the human-hide grip of my barbed Lectro-whip and lightning that gives pain and pleasure both flares into the room

 

"Then we should move to the main course."  I tell her and draw back my arm.

 

Druhxila's screams and laughter echo in my chambers as She-Who-Thirsts devours her.

 

MR.

Edited by Mazer Rackham
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Marta loves to dance.

 

She chooses a partner from the many she can see, a young man, with blond hair and peachy fuzz on his top lip.  The Background music swells as she fixes him with a stare and then they begin.  She lets him lead at first, to see how good a dancer he is.  He moves quickly, with sure feet, yet he is scared.  Marta smiles, can feel the depth of their two hearts beating.  She catches her breath as she follows him, then it is her turn to lead and for the final flourish as the two reach a shared purpose, she holds her breath, and sends him a message with her eyes, hands and heart.

 

And blows his brains out from 600 yards away.

 

She cycles the charging stud on the long-las and another shot powers into her hands.

"Good work Corporal, another filthy traitor down."

"Yes Sergeant."

Sergeant Krull sits to her left with magnoculars.  "That's nine.  One more and Recaf back at the hide, eh?"

 

She spots another partner.

"Elevation three-zero, right one-four."  Krull calls the step.

 

Marta loves to dance.

 

MR.

Edited by Mazer Rackham
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Love Eternal

 

Anael slowly disassembled the heat manifold before him and removed the cooling tank from his mechanical leg, a replacement due to a past battle. He had done it many times before and with each he had gone through the correct rituals. He had lit the candles. He had recited the prayers. He had prepared the unguents.

 

Every brother had their own methods. Every brother had their secrets. His was profound. His was personal. It had taken him several days to gather the appropriate materials. Fat from a freshly caught stag. Minerals from the sandy beaches of the past. Mint from the graves of his clan elders. He mixed this concoction in a pestle until it turned into a paste and finished the recipe by boiling it and stripping away the liquid into the coolant chamber. It was perfect. He breathed the smell in deeply. He loved the smell and so did his machine spirit, who happened to have been his wife.

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As he listened to marching drum of rain pounding against the roof of the tent, the sudden warm, wet feeling on the tips of his fingers shook him awake. 

 

Looking down from his cot he expected to find a prank by his platoon mates, but instead two dark brown eyes stared back up at him framed in fur. He had no idea how it had gotten into the camp, must've snuck in with a logistics truck was his best guess. As the wet nose and expectant face stared back up he couldn't help but think of his son back home, holding his new pet in his arms as he watched daddy board the bulk lander. Slumping his shoulders a little he acquiesced. 

 

"Alright, you can stay for a while..." He said ruffling it's fur as it heartily grumbled

"...but if anyone asks you were a gift from the captain"

His new little friend yipped happily in response.

 

Thunder ground through the air like a wave and the artillery regiment responded in kind. Stuck between the two in the trench he lit a lho stick up and made sure the straps on 'The Beast's' armour were tight, funny how nicknames stick. You would think it was because the fluffy little thing was ravenously hungry but you'd be wrong. One time going over the top the cheeky little buggar had followed them all the way from the camp. He didn't notice himself till he saw a blur fly past him and latch itself onto the throat of a cultist and just start shaking until he didn't move anymore. Earned himself a good meal that day. 

 

Sitting there in the trench with him curled up at his feet he looked peaceful. The smokey battlefield loomed over the top of them as one of the lads hummed a tune. By noon the sky had started to clear but the artillery fire abruptly ended. The platoon stood up as one reflexively, knowing what came next. Giving his lasgun one last look-over he knelt down and gave 'The Beast' a gentle pat. 

 

"One more time little guy, then we can go home, promise."

With a short bark he agreed, tail wagging happily.

 

The Commissars whistle blew somewhere in the distance, and as one they crested the edge of the trench. Saying a prayer to the Emperor the pair marched off into the smoke one last time.

 

Apologies if there are any mistakes, this was a spur-of-the-moment thing and I'm half-asleep. 

Edited by Lazarus Primus
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Nice! Love it so much! I was expecting a horrific ending for the little puppers. I appreciate it that you left it open as I've becoming emotionally attached to "The Beast".

 

Kind of reminds me of "The Beast" from the movie Sandlot as well. :biggrin.:

Edited by Aothaine
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Napalm

 

Morning light spread into the bay housing the "special" packages Mek Gobstick had prepared for the enemy. Mork's Torch tore through the morning skies leaving a trail of smoke from the cobbled engines that were holding together through sheer will of pilot. The Mek had scrounged several of the enemies' surviving fuel tanks and strapped them to the outside of the body creating a scene of orkish splendor. The boys had painted the aircraft to look like a laughing skull on flames over the night and the trailing smoke provided the finishing touch to what Gumsmacka thought was a decent interpretation of Mork or Gork.

 

The airship veered to the right and the pilot screamed in excitement. Anti-air flak pounded outside the ship, some causing ruptures in the hull as the pilot got to near in his dare devil like approach to his target. The time quickly approached. Gumsmacka was located in the lookout tower that was strapped to the top of the airship, the wind roaring in his ears and pulling his face tight against his skin. His ragged clothes flailed behind him wildly as he wooped and screamed into his megaphone "FIRE!" 

 

Gumsmacka could hear the clunk of latches releasing and bangs of containers hitting each other as the package was released onto it's target. Morka's Torch rocketed by the target and a few short seconds later he saw the prize he was awaiting. The trench lines ignited in glorious red explosions of fire. Gumsmacka rejoiced and signaled the pilot for another pass. The pilot obeyed, lined the aircraft up for a second pass only much lower this time. It was a ritual between the two. They wanted to smell the victory.

 

The Morka's Torch lurched hard as the pilot injected another vat of promethium into the already exhausted and over heating engines. The aircraft picked up more speed than necessary and the tower's harnessed began to stretch and snap. Gumsmacka paid no mind. The taste of victory was at hand.

 

Just as the ship passed into the smoke of the fire the last harness snapped and Gumsmacka, with his tower, slipped off the airship and into the smoke. He breathed deeply with a wide smile on his face as he plummeted to his death. "I love the smell of napalm in the morning." He thought briefly before all sense of being was lost to him.

 

 

Hope this is not over 500 words. Really enjoyed writing this! :biggrin.:

Edited by Aothaine
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Delectable Delights

 

 

 

"Bubbling blissful baffling brew. I wonder what I'll make of you." chortled Uzkaz Pusspicker staring at his large void black cauldron. The bubbling liquid defied logic as most things in the immaterium did. It was in constant motion but reflected the surroundings as if perfectly still. A concoction in two states simultaneously with Uzkaz's rotted and pimpled face grinning in it as if a child viewing a prize. 

 

"Gurgling green growing grime. I've a wish to make you mine." Uzkaz continued as gobs of puss and saliva dripped down from his face and maw into the pot causing a series of radiant colors to spread throughout the contents. He reached around his bulbous body and clutched the next ingredient, the remains of some large bug with scything talons. As he whipped it around one of the talons decapitated several of the nurglings in attendance causing raucous laughter to mix with the screams of pain. All of this too was absorbed by the cauldron, shifting and rocking to the sound of a nearby bagpipe. 

 

"Fantastic Faultless flourishing flood. Go now, infect their blood." finished Uzkaz as he right hand circled around to grip an invisible something near the lip of the cauldron. He grabbed it and pried it open with ease, ripping the veil of the immaterium and revealing a calm planet circling a yellow star. His left hand gripped the opposite lip and lifted it causing the contents of the cauldron to slowly pour into the portal. It turned into a large sharp shard of frozen death as it made it's way toward the planet. A doom a thousand years in the making slowly drifting toward finality.

 

Uzkaz Pusspicker laughed joyously as the portal snapped shut. His attendants followed suit as the party began in earnest. 

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Speed

 

 

Multiple, repeated explosions rocked the device driving it into motion. Intake. Explosion. Exhale. 

 

Chamber after chamber echoed the pressure behind the torque. Push. Pull. Push.

 

Life was simple. Life was consistent. Life was grand.

 

 

A red button, alone on a plain of metal, flashed it's excitement.

 

It longed to be used. Desired attention.

 

A shadow came before it. Dark and inviting. The button welcomed it.

 

 

Thick promethium pushed itself into a chamber. Eager. Willing. Curious.

 

Ignition.

 

Wind whipped his braid. Life became a blur. SpeedGrinna spread his lips in joy. 

 

 

 

This was interesting to write. Hope you all enjoy it!

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Kinda wracked my head on this one but I landed on something eventually. :smile.:

 

Endless Cycle

 

 

Repetition and replication, these two cornerstones were repeated in mind, I used the mantra to drown out the unceasing screams that sought to distract me from my work. Unfortunately fresh specimens were needed, materials which were active in condition was important in creating the thing that will fill the hole in both my hearts.

     Metaphorically, the two pulsing muscles were yawning abysses that were ever growing, ever turbulent in its needs. Such desires had to be met with passion, ruthlessness and dedication. With that thought mixed with my mantra I removed the scalp from a female with my scalpel, the cut was perfect despite the convulsions of the flailing creature.   

    Slowly I pulled the scalp away, I made sure the female's head was strapped down as well so I could dye her hair a perfect white. Cutting flesh was one of my strengths, messing with hair was not. Once the flesh was free I examined the silky threads, they were like snow, beautiful and cold. 

     With reverence I slowly approached my work which was sitting on the table. I set the scalp on the perfect head, put together through hard trial and tribulation. With the scalp in place I retrieved my surgical suture from my belt and slowly attached the scalp to my prized possession. 

     The process was slow, but it had to be for what I was trying to replicate was beyond many, but I had to try. With each suture the abyss started to shrink and as I finished the delicate work my two pulsing hearts started to become threaded with ecstasy. I took a step back and examined what I have made.

    The hole within my chest was closing as I stared at the perfect snow white hair and aquiline nose, the face was also both round and firm. To my bated breath I couldn't believe that I captured the radiance and dignity held within the dark-grey eyes. Tears began to thread my face as I uttered the word I didn’t expect myself to say out loud.  

     ‘Father…’ 

     Even though my call was smothered by the bleating materials lining operating tables I could hear the word within my mind and soul, a measure of peace fell upon me that was until I looked deeper into what I created. The nose wasn’t right, it was pointed, he never had such an ugly nose, also his eyes were black, dark and full of delight. Also the hair, it was more grey than a pure white. The abyss yawned wide, anger threaded my form as I slapped the head from the table. 

     I crushed the ugly thing under my boot and as the blood oozed under my sole I sighed heavily. ‘So I have to start again…’ 

     I returned to my work, speaking the words that have carried me through the long centuries, this time I said them out loud. ‘Repetition and replication…’

 

Edited by Shinros
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