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Writer's Vow (260 short stories)


Aothaine

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Brothers and Sisters! I welcome you to enjoy the mission I have set myself. I am planning on writing five short stories a week for an entire year. This first post will have links to jump to short stories separated by week. Hope you all enjoy!

 

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UPDATE: Restarting my vow! previous stories will not count. 260 short stories in one year! Lets do this!

 

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2020:

 

2022:

Edited by Aothaine
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The Chant

The morning was announced by the Bells of Saint Clement. Rung everyday for the past thirty years in reverence to Captain Clement of the Roaring Lions. The rituals had to be performed. Morning. Afternoon. Night.

 

A robed figure knelt before the Statue of Saint Clement replacing the candles that had burned low. They were lit every day and those that had spent their life were replaced. Morning. Afternoon. Night.

 

It was what he was raised to do. Honor the Saint. Replace the candles. Accept offerings. Morning. Afternoon. Night.

 

He was happy. He was satisfied. He was a believer. Morning. Afternoon. Night.

 

The screams slowly increased. The sound of lasgun fire and wounded faithful echoed through the thoroughfare and blended with war cries and primitive rifle fire. Morning. Afternoon. Night.

 

It had been this way for two weeks now. The smell of the burning dead had become non-distinct. The screams of the tortured faithful had become a music of it's own. Morning. Afternoon. Night.

 

Brother Usiel, kneeling before the Statue of Saint Clement, finally understood. Finally saw. Finally knew. With this knowledge and experience his soul was forever lost. Morning. Afternoon. Night.

 

 

My Comments to Myself:

The original concept of this story became lost in a cocoon of "How do I write this?!"  I then realized that the story I wanted to write was not the story that needed to be written. I decided to let my fingers type as I put on some Gregorian chant. A sad tale of a blind monk doing what he knew to do in the middle of a fight between traitors and loyalists, ending with his eventual submission to the gods of Chaos. A reminder that even the most devout and strong willed can fail at their most important task when engulfed by pure evil for long enough.

 

Eventually I would like to make an objective for my Roaring Lions that is Brother Usiel's body kneeling at the foot of a statue of a space marine. I have no idea if I will ever get to this. But the image is firmly in my mind. The steps covered in melted candles and prayers, scorch marks and fractured marble steps. 

 

Edited by Aothaine
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Tip of the Spear

 

 

A blue orb stained the imagine on the pict screen, a planet in need and surrounded by Ork Roks. Fleet Mater Dontalos ordered the ship full ahead. Bright lances swimming through the abyss past The Pride and slammed into the Ork ships ahead forcing the pict screens to darken. Large chunks of the Ork vessels disappeared into orbs of white light. Some laughed at the concept of Ork ships, some called them a joke. Those that did in his fleet were all dead. Dontalos rose through the ranks quickly due to his very pragmatic approach to void warfare. He had never lost a battle. He had over fifteen decisive void victories under his belt. He was a weapon of the Emperor wrought for this purpose.

 

Dontalos checked the orientation of the fleet on a pict to his right. Lion's Bite and Feast were slowing their approach as planned. When the time came they would all pivot to the left to unleash broadsides into the enemy while continuing to approach the planet and deliver their cargo, relief supplies to the 4th company of the Roaring Lions. They had been fighting the Orks on this planet for several months now. A bloody war of attrition. But it would be over soon enough. This planet was too important to lose. It would be saved. 

 

The time came. Dontalos gave the order for the approach vector and all three ships aligned perfectly showing their broadsides to the Ork fleet. The concussions of their fire sent shock waves through The Pride. Soon after the Orks returned fire and the true battle began. Several Splinter ships raced along the safe wall provided to them by the battle line of the fleet. Their cargo a gift from the Emperor. One that Dontalos would pay nearly anything to protect. 

 

As the battle raged on in the skies the splinter ships entered orbit with loud bangs and cracks as if the planet was crying out from pain at their entrance. They raced through the atmosphere to their target and released their contents. Now that their payload was delivered, they rocked upward and back into the void just as smoothly as they had pierced the planet. Dontalos called up the rest of the fleet. The Orks were stuck in now and would not retreat from their demise. Such a simple enemy.

 

 

My Thoughts to myself:

The Roaring Lions, my DIY chapter, is a primaris founding chapter. I decided in the end that, while I love all of the old sculpts, I find that as I get older it is becoming harder to paint the smaller miniatures. I also really like the smooth look and the quality of the Primaris line. I am not sure how many of these stories will be about this chapter, I will kind of wing it. But I find myself lured into this chapter and it's war against the Orks that I've created. I look forward to the future stories that my mind develops over time.

 

 

** I want to thank everyone that reads these stories. I know they are not professionally written. I am not a professional. Yet. But I thank you for your time and hope that you enjoyed yourselves.

Edited by Aothaine
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Event Horizon

 

The waves crashing against the hull of Specter was a repetitive and lulling sound. It reminded Sargent Descartes of his home world, Siculum III. An ocean planet used to farm one of the most valuable resources for the Imperium of Man, Water. Ag'ag VII reminded him of the soft sunrises and gentle currents found there. He lived as everyone did there. Upon the islands formed by the underground volcanoes. To this day he still did not understand why his chapter recruited from his home world. It wasn't a Death World, as many historians called them. It didn't have a group of hardened warriors desperately grasping for life. There were no rituals of combat to decide who would be accepted and therefore remembered and who would be forgotten. No, the ritual was a solemn affair. One of inner reflection and peace. A trial of mental endurance.

 

Signums flared on his overhead display. The mission was running over time. This could cause complications. Descartes ordered the rhino to stop and he exited the top hatch. He panned his vision around the Rhino, five feet of gentle liquid life surrounded Specter in every direction. Rockets of steam shot out from the surface at random intervals, the planet exhaling excess heat. The sky was a dimming red color and it's primary star could be seen on the eastern skyline. A sight of beauty he knew he might never see again in his extended life. A dull ball of fire with a curled tail leading into The Maw. The system would be plunged into complete darkness within the next two hundred years according to his calculations. When that happened this planet would turn into a rock of ice perfect for mining. Descartes breathed deeply and exhaled slowly before signalling the person in charge of this mission. 

 

"The transport will be arriving in five minutes for evac Inquisitor." Descartes said calmly into his vox.

 

"I understand Sergeant. Thank you for the update." replied Inquisitor Joaquin as he continued to examine something in the distance.

 

He hopped off the Rhino onto a shallow part of land nearby. It had been several months since Inquisitor Joaquin had requisitioned his company. Months of training and thoughtful hours. The Inquisitor was researching something dangerous. Descartes knew that. He also knew not to ask about it. His twin brother Amenlin, Captain of this company, had acknowledged the authority provided to the Inquisitor through his personal guard. A Custodian of the Aquilan Shield.

 

Descartes looked to the east, his auspex highlighting the Inquisitor. A small hunched man of a more scholarly demeanor. He was not built for combat, but he had a dangerous look in his eyes. A coldness that could cause even a space marine like himself to question his method of attack. It was just then that it happened. A loud deafening crack that caused his systems to spike and blood do flow from his ears. He could still hear just fine as the suit was linked directly through his Black Carapace but he knew he would need time in the regeneration vats when he returned to the ship in orbit. Laughter echoed through the skies and with a blur the Custodian beheaded the Inquisitor and began running full speed toward the Rhino.

 

The Custodian was a sight to behold. Sculpted by the hands of the Emperor himself. Likened to the Primarchs of old. His speed was blinding and mesmerizing a the same time. Descartes snapped out of his trance just in time to see the Thunderhawk landing, Specter began racing for the Thunderhawk as water shot up from the ground in molten steam around them. He ran to the Thunderhawk arriving just as it started to lift into the air. The Custodian was still one-hundred yards out as the Thunderhawk began preparations for it's assent, sirens blazing.

 

Seconds later the Thunderhawk was nearly thirty feet into the air. Descartes radioed that they needed to go back down as they were abandoning the Custodian. The system replied that the Custodian had ordered the assent. Upon looking back to the Custodian a golden light shimmered through the water, no on top of the water. The Custodian was running on top of the water. He ran with the speed of an attacking shark and launched himself into the air. Just like lightning that his augmented senses and tracking struggled to keep up with, the Custodian launched himself into the air and clutched the still lowered docking ramp then pulled himself up and into the bay. The bay door began to close. A glance past the Custodian revealed what was happening to the planet. 

 

The planet seemed to be separating evenly as if designed to do so. Water draining into the new voids. A crafted design of an epic scale. A design none should see. The hatch sealed and Descartes turned to see the Custodian before him.

 

"Know that this is the Emperor's will Sergeant Descartes." The Custodian said before the hum of his glave gave away his intentions. 

 

It was over before Descartes could even signal for help. A smooth cut from one end of his neck to the other. His vision started to blur and he struggled for breath. He felt the vibrations of rapid bolter fire through the deck for a few seconds before his brain began to struggle for survival and images of his home world flashed before him. He smiled.

 

Beauty. Pure beauty, and peace.

 

My thoughts to myself:

This Story was written to music as well. Hans Zimmer "Aurora". My goal being to work on descriptions with an interesting twist at the end. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed it!

 

===================================================

Replies to commentators:


I'll never turn down a story of void combat, rather than say they turn left I recommend using port. Port=Left and Starboard=Right.

 

Keep it up!

 

Ahh good point! I need to remember that for the future. Will do! :biggrin.: Thank you for your support!

 

Interesting, can't wait to see more but you should be careful that you don't burn yourself out.

 

Not to worry. This is a challenge meant to test my limits and force me to grow. I want to be a professional writer for Black Library. So I know what I need to do. Work is required for greatness and I would love to be a beloved author like my favorite author ADB.

 

An admirable goal. Looking forward to tracking your progress.

 

Thank you for your support! I'll keep it up! :biggrin.:

Edited by Aothaine
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I have enjoyed reading through all of your pieces thus far, Aothaine. I was slightly confused about the events of "Event Horizon." 

 

Was Descartes the victim of a psychic attack in the paragraph introducing the Inquisitor? If so, I was unable to tell whether it was instigated by the Inquisitor, the Custodian, or some other entity. A little more clarity here would be helpful to help the reader understand what is occurring. 

 

Additionally, why did Descartes not attempt to defend the Inquisitor against the Custodian? If she had requisitioned his company, it would seem likely that he would instinctively attempt to defend her against an unexpected attack by a seeming ally.

 

Final note, the Inquisitor's gender switches throughout the course of the story:

 

"I understand Sergeant. Thank you for the update." replied Inquisitor Joaquin as he continued to examine something in the distance.

 

He hopped off the Rhino onto a shallow part of land nearby. It had been several months since Inquisitor Joaquin had requisitioned his company. Months of training and thoughtful hours. The Inquisitor was researching something dangerous. Descartes knew that. He also knew not to ask about it. His twin brother Amenlin, Captain of this company, had acknowledged the authority provided to the Inquisitor through his personal guard. A Custodian of the Aquilan Shield.

 

Descartes looked to the east, his auspex highlighting the Inquisitor. A small hunched woman of a more scholarly demeanor. She was not built for combat, but she had a dangerous look in her eyes.

 

I very much enjoyed the story, it was very interesting an engaging — some minor edits for clarity would strengthen it immeasurably. :wink:

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  • 3 months later...

Whoa man the past few months have been crazy! Life is starting to finally stabilize. Time to get back on track. Expect some stories soon!

 

 

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Replies to commentators:
 
 

 

I have enjoyed reading through all of your pieces thus far, Aothaine. I was slightly confused about the events of "Event Horizon." 

 

Was Descartes the victim of a psychic attack in the paragraph introducing the Inquisitor? If so, I was unable to tell whether it was instigated by the Inquisitor, the Custodian, or some other entity. A little more clarity here would be helpful to help the reader understand what is occurring. 

 

Additionally, why did Descartes not attempt to defend the Inquisitor against the Custodian? If she had requisitioned his company, it would seem likely that he would instinctively attempt to defend her against an unexpected attack by a seeming ally.

 

Final note, the Inquisitor's gender switches throughout the course of the story:

 

I very much enjoyed the story, it was very interesting an engaging — some minor edits for clarity would strengthen it immeasurably. :wink:

 

First, thank you for pointing out the typo! It should be fixed now. :D

 

Also, thank you so much for your comments and your time! 

 

Now, onto your questions. The story was pulled from two different angles. The movie Interstellar and the story of the Custodes executing the primaris reinforcements of a chapter that went renegade. The Custodians act as the Emperor's word. The Custodian was guarding the Inquisitor and the Inquisitor fulfilled or failed their role, I wonder myself which it was. Anyway, back to your questions lol!

 

Descartes wasn't the victim of a pyschic attack, he was just bored and in his own memories at the time. When he focused on the nquisitor that is when the Inquisitor succeeded or failed in his role. The Custodian killed the Inquisitor, but also had to make sure that the marines did not report what they saw as well. It is a tragic tale of loyal soldiers having to die to keep a grander story protected/hidden/secret. 

 

Descartes new the authority of the Custodian and saw what was happening to the planet. I imagine he might have had to make similar decisions in the past. Regardless, it is difficult to turn against someone you feel is a god or angel sculpted by the god emperor. Had he lived he might have questioned the Custodian. But the Custodian had made the decision there were to be no witnesses. More than likely the Custodian mind wiped the Stormhawk's memory. But the marines on board would be dead. 

 

I didn't really clarify it in the story but I personally imagine it to be some ancient device that was used in the war between The Old Ones and the Necrons. 

 

Anyway, I hope that helps clear some of the story up a bit for you. If you have any additional questions please let me know. :D

 

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  • 1 year later...

Simple Things

 

It was always the same. 

FIRE.

Repetition was it's life.

FIRE.

Ignition was it's purpose.

FIRE.

Hate was it's fuel.

FIRE.

Retribution was it's resolution.

FIRE.

It basked in the rapture of it's fallen enemies.

FIRE.

It was nearly exhausted.

FIRE.

It sent the reload message to the neural network.

FIRE.

FIRE.

FIRE.

CLICK.

SHINK.

SNAP.

FIRE.

It was restored.

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