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RPer Solo Writing Thread

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by BadDo9, Feb 26, 2016.

  1. Speaking with @Vlayden made me think that it might be fun to have a place for us Roleplayers to post stories and other solo writing projects, just to have some fun. I thought it could be better here than in off-topic, because it might not be buried so quickly. I guess maybe I should make a few rules...
    1. Follow EC forum rules
    2. Links to works are allowed, as long as it is writing created by you. Also please provide a short summary of the work.
    3. This thread is for the writing, not for feedback. If you wish to provide critique, please PM the writer unless they ask for no feedback. On a side note, feel free to praise or post a short recommendation of a work here in the Tavern! :)
    4. Have fun!
    5. More may be to come...
  2. Akerath Vlayden Well-Known Member

    “Ya see, boss, oi'z f'inkin' d'at if we'z go d'ere, we'z jus' gon' git ourselv'z kill'd. Loike.. D'em Elda' sed. D'a Spays mareenz iz ova' d'ere!” The kommando said to the Warboss, shifting uneasily in place for a moment. The Orkz had gone through dozens of boyz through the past week in the jungles, either lost to Imperial ambushes, traps, or the plain wildlife had gotten them.

    Ya see dis?” The warboss asked, swinging around and clenching down on the ork with his power klaw, the ramshackle device crackling with golden energy for a moment. The kommando in question yelped and squirmed in his grasp, nodding frantically. “Good! Cuz oi'z da wun 'oldin it, an' 'oi'z da wun 'o'z big nuff t'a use it. An' Oi'z da biggest, so oi'z da boss! Now – we'z needin t'a foind dat, er... Tellypor'a f'ing. D'a shoiny wun da Inkwizishun wants frum d'eze rena.. Ren'g...”

    A small silence ensued before he tossed the smaller ork back and growled. “Da chaos boyz! D'ey'z got it, an' we'z bein' pay'd t'a git it.” The kommando'z around the Boss nodded in agreement. They heard the man's words too.

    Get me my teleportation beacon back, and I'll pay you in whatever fee you see fit.” He said. Or something to that matter: Nawdrog didn't hear anything else. He just knew he had to get this stupid thing and he'll get payed.

    Lawtsa teef in d'is f'a us, an' we'z gon' be betta d'en even d'ose flash gitz, He thought, turning forward to look at the Imperial fortress. Or, what was left of it. The Chaos rebellion two years before had defiled most of it, with the sole exception of the tower at the rightmost side made directly into the mountain. That Inquisitor had spoken that there were Imperial forces in there, that he had to go meet for the beacon.

    Roight d'en. We'z goin f'rough da wall d'ere. Boyz! Set sum bommz d'ere in dat krak! We'z gon' need an openin'. Wuns d'at'z dun, oi'z goin in' wif sum o' da gretchin, an' two uvva' boyz. Da rest o' ya, you'z get t'a 'ave fun an' charj in. Don' doi, awroight?! I wanna git outta d'is wif alot o' ya.” The warboss explained to his Kommandos. He'd lost a great deal of his mob getting here: He'd rather not come out of this alone. While it meant more riches, he'd have to spend it in getting other boyz to follow, or risk smashing in another boss.

    The smaller orkz all nodded and set to work, the two rokkit launcha'z stepping back and taking aim whilst another was setting a few kilo's of explosives into the wall. Once that was done they fired, demolishing a decent sized hole in the wall and causing a large ruckus throughout the night.

    Git goin'!” Nawdrog shouted now, an ongoing WAAAAGH!Echoing throughout the fortifications now as the approximately thirty Orkz rushed into the gates, firing their shoota'z and throwing stikk bommz into buildings.

    Nawdrog almost envied them: the rush of battle was something all orkz loved with a passion. But, he had a mission, and the two boyz and gretchin who stayed behind looked up expectantly. He gave a single gesture to them and snuck into the opening, sliding through the shadows and made his way towards the Tower.

    For an ork approaching nine feet in height of pure, scarred muscle he was disturbingly quiet – as were the boyz behind him. Covered in blue paint from head to toe with a handful of stikk bommz and each with a hefty blade, one can't envy whoever was unfortunate enough to be in their path.

    The utter chaos in the distance was only getting louder now as the orkz spread further in, now being accompanied by the panicked screams and howls of pain, along with disorganized ordering of the chaos cultists: even a few lasgun shots were seen slicing through the skies, but they were of no importance.

    Minutes passed before Nawdrog made it near the tower, seeing a single Chaos marine in front of him along with seven smaller humans, each wielding some smaller autoguns. The Marine in question had a power sword at his belt, with a bolter held in his gauntlets.

    “Ignore the greenskins,” the marine ordered, “Set the demolitions and get into position. If we don't get in this damned place tonight, I'll feed your very blood to Khorne!” The threat did well enough, the humans scrambling to set the demolition charges onto the thick door – it looked as though it had been welded shut from the inside, and had taken a great deal of firepower without falling.

    Nawdrog didn't waste time investigating though, motioning to the other two orkz to sneak past and get to the other side of the opening, along with one of the gretchin. Each of them had been carrying a small pack of tools and a supa stikkbom each, causing them to be a bit slower than preferable.. But their luck held (unsurprisingly), allowing the warboss to step out into the light and light up a squig cigar, setting it between his sharp teef and take a puff before lifting his own supa-shoota', the double-barreled weapon aimed directly at the chaos marine.“Oi, Chaos boy!” He s houted, causing them to whirl around and aim their weapons at him. “Knok knok!”

    They hadn't time to fire themselves before the three shoota'z spat out a torrent of lead down at them, the cultists dying in agony against the wall and setting off the explosives – sending the Chaos marine to his feet. With all three orkz now shooting at him, he hadn't the time to so much as lift his bolter before his power armour cracked and split.
    The warboss wasted very little time in rushing forward and swiping the astartes into the wall with his power klaw, causing the backside of his chestpiece to shatter and his spine and organs to turn into paste against the rockcrete.

    When he finally fell, Nawdrog grinned and looked to the Gretchin. “Set da bommz d'ere in wot's left, an' foind wot uvva 'splosivez d'ey'z got t'a blow it up. Oi'z wantin t'a git outta 'ere.”

    The smaller greenskins cackled and set to work, all eight in the meantime looting bits and pieces from the humans. One of the boyz went over and picked the bolter up. “Kin oi keep it boss? Oi'z always wanted wun o' d'eze chaos shoota's!” Nawdrog sighed and nodded. “Foine, ya kin keep it. Bu' rememba', you'z owin me a squigloaf f'a dat!” The kommando just gave a human-like salute and went to tossing the demoltion charges towards the gretchin.

    We'z blud axez alwayz git da best jobz, don' we boyz? He thought to himself, clacking his power klaw.

    “Jawb'z dun boss!” A gretchin called out, skipping past him into cover and readying one of the supa stikk bommz.“Roight. Fiya in da' 'ole!”


    The guardsmen within all yelled in surprise as the door suddenly burst forth, many scrambling to pick up their lasguns and the two heavy gunners sitting upright at the heavy bolters. Much to their surprise though, the Chaos forces didn't appear. Quite the contrary, they saw a large ork warboss with a handful of orkz and gretchin around him, wearing a peaked cap (probably stolen from some poor commissar), a powa' klaw, and a double-barreled shoota'.“Roight d'en. Oi'z Nawdrog Sneekchop. Which o' ya'z got dat inkwizishun tellyporta baykin o' sumfin? Ya boss iz wantin' it now!”
    Vanestus, Jorimel and BadDo9 like this.
  3. Uriel1339 Uriel1339 Lord of Posts

    Time for re-posting an older story of mine!

    An Ishars demise, by Andreas Lopez

    The Eldar woman gave eventually into it, transferring her life force through her will into the flawed child. Born and destined to ultimately die, but changed by its mothers will to a chance of life. The woman was dying in the act of birth, just after being discovered by a Guardian who registered uncommon sounds from the cargo hold. There she was. Dying, holding the child embraced in her hands, crying in the apparent endless agony of her life leaving the body and traversing slowly into the soulstone attached on her robes, just above her heart where also a rune was inscribed ‘Rharijem’ – Her husband? Despite the quick aid of the guardian and the healers that rushed to her side once they were called by the guardian – Alas it was too late. The ishar died before having reached even the infirmary, the child was saved and would have the chance to see the Eldar Empire rise once more – and probably help building the foundation for it. Rharijem – The father of the nameless child was summoned and interrupted his training to rush into the infirmary, what were they blabbering about? His wife, bearer of his child was at home on Craftworld Ulthwe! Without a reaction in his face he simply looked at the dead woman and the child. “What happened?” The hunter asked and received reply by the healer. “She died during birth, a guardian found her in the cargo hold – she must have sneaked on the craft.” Rharijem simply nodded in silence, his face not showing an emotion whatsoever. “Take care of the child. It must survive to see the rise of the Eldar Empire.”

    … A few Cycles before.

    “Why do you have to go my love?” The concerned woman wondered, embracing the Crimson Hunter – not daring to let go of him, not now, not ever! He was hers, part of the life of hers, father of the unborn in her womb.

    “You know exactly why, ishar.” His hand grabbed hers gentle – pressing his lips against the back of it. “Arkhona must be conquered to lay the foundation for the Eldar Empire to be reborn. Our dreams will come true – The Empire will rise again! The Eldar will reign over the Galaxy and defeat those unfit to live here. From the Mon’keigh to the barbaric Kroot. They will fall beneath our heels, crushed by our swords, set ablaze by our Lances! That is why I have to go, my dear!”

    She sighed and shuddered slightly. He was like… That again. Talking about what their dreams were, though it was his and Khaines dream and definitely not hers. It made her afraid, cycle by cycle he was disappearing more and more into the shadows of Khaine, becoming a phantom of his former self and turning into the agent of Khaine. The Warhost had called quite a time ago with the preparations almost done. He would lose himself for good once the battle started. He would be someone else, he would become nothing but… But… The bloody hand of Khaine. A tear tried to press her way through her eyes but she held it back, while it tore her soul apart to lie in the slightest to the man she loved in any way, either physical or mental, she would not endure to cry in front of him and be not tended. The tighter she tried to grasp him the more he slipped away and there was nothing the pregnant Eldar could do about it.

    “… Blood will rain, the Eldar will reign!” The female did not even notice or care that he kept going on about the praise of the Eldar Empire, war and bloodshed. Neither did he notice her emotions. They were as different as Star and Planet, as different as the Path of the Dreamer and the Path of Awakening. As different as real space and the Warp.

    Rharijem even became so obsessed with war, that his seed – the source which was supposed to give life to the unborn child within his wife became corrupted. Reproduction was always a delicate topic for Eldar ever since their fall and the Birth of She Who Thirsts. Like most of Eldar society and technology, the birth of a child also required intervals of renewal of the source of life – Seed, but not just any. A seed could not be mixed, the first seed of a male Eldar that fertilizes a female allows a certain woman to become an ishar has to be supplied multiple times again by the same male to make sure the evolving embryo is nourished and grows healthy. But since the Crimson Hunter became more and more obsessed with murdering in the name of the empire and his war-self, his mental condition became worse and damaged their child. The healers had told her that it would be safer to remove the child and try it again – Yes life was valuable to each single Eldar. But if the birth would be attempted it could result in two deaths. So it was safer to decline one to allow another to exist further with the remaining potential for another child.

    “NO!” The mother said straight out, her voice booming with the strength of a Howling Banshee. She would deny her child to die, she would deny anyone to take her child, and it will survive – No matter what, even if it would require her own life to take in order to deliver the child! Seemingly being slapped out of her own memories and due to them being quite irritated, she simply asked, “What?” One reason for asking this particular question was that the male seemed to stare at her – expecting an answer.

    Rharijem though seemed either to not notice or not care and wouldn’t notice the irritation of hers, while staring with his empty, glassy eyes into hers, piercing her soul like the gaze of a Necrontyr. She shuddered and held her womb protective, being scared of the aura and presence her husband radiated, almost as if he was about to do something evil.

    “What is wrong?” The Hunter finally asked, a glimmer of hope rose in her eyes. The Rharijem she fell in love – was he back? Has he returned to take care of his love and their child? “Are you not happy about the rise of the Eldar Empire? The chance we have in the Mon’keigh soiled system of Kharon?” And all the hope, created by a single question of concern was destroyed instantaneously. Like a Bright Lance hitting her in the chest and melting her heart upon penetration. He was gone. Literally, as his communication module went off. Training for war called, the environment he urged so much. Talk about how to eliminate your enemy most efficiently, tactical approach to be superior from deployment on and other details nobody but warriors need.

    The ishar was left behind in their room they shared… Sculpts of their ceremonial union, gifts they had received from their friends and families. Books, the masterly crafted bed for ultimate comfort, the clothes which were worn for their union and those garbs which would represent it to any occasion. Even the Robes that looked more like a dress with the engraved rune of her ultimate loves name ‘Rharijem’. It was done perfect – even for the high standards of Eldar, the material smooth and gentle, like an extra layer of skin. A rune glowed in soft emerald green, mirroring the eyes of the man she loved. She dried her hands with the robes’ sleeves, closing her eyes while doing so – Imagining it would be him performing the gesture and not the lifeless piece of cloth. Just like he did at the day she got informed that her father passed away on the battlefield. The Hunter embraced her tight, swiped the tears away, and caressed her with strokes as well soft words about how he would protect her and never die, to be immortal if that required her to remain happy and never suffer the same like on that day. It was the worst sensation of her life, mostly because she never understood the purpose of fighting. No matter how it would be turned, death would always bring agony to someone one way or another. She knew it was in the nature of survival, but in her own mind she was a pacifist and only focused on the people around her to show them the positive sides of life and make them forget war, even if just a for a few milli-cycles. So to see the man she loved the most and the one who promised to remain immortal for her has fallen. He has fallen and became what she hated, a man that knew nothing but how to kill. Not even her father who was twice the age of Rharijem the day he died was not that much consumed by Khaine. What went wrong that she pushed him away into the bloody hand of Khaine instead of tug him closer? What make him march to war? What did she do wrong? Was her care insufficient, was it the lack of her war proficiency? Why… Did he lose himself in the infinite blood thirst?

    The next cycles were identical. Until the day of departure. The Spearhead for Arkhona had completed their preparations. Guardians, Seers, Artisans, Warriors and Servants - All sort of Eldar of Ulthwe had assembled to bid farewell to the chosen who were to be sent to Arkhona and lay foundation for the takeover of the Kharon System, finally starting the operations of the rebirth of the Eldar Empire, restoring its former glory and make it glow brighter than all stars of the galaxy together. To step out of the shadows of the Webway and take control of the fate of the Galaxy. It was now or never since Iyanden, Ulthwe, Biel-Tan and Saim-Hann planned to strike together, the major craftworlds uniting and making the approach on Arkhona. Bonded by the visions of their Seers that have seen the potential to turn the tides of Destiny, to stop the decline of the Eldar race and revitalize the power they once held in the galaxy. That is the potential laying within the Kharon System. Thousands of Eldar were assembled in lines right and left from the Warriors that made their path to the Webway which would bring each warrior to a designated craft. Some whispers were going on between a few Eldar.

    “Where is she?” One male asked, just to get another uncertain reply. “I don’t know. Perhaps she doesn’t want to see him leave?”

    In any case – The Eldar had been both wrong. The ishar was already on-board at the time of the ceremony on one of the vessels. Having sneaked upon it as an Artisan for maintenance, production and repair of all sort of vessels. Though once on the vessel, she disappeared into the Cargo-Hold. It was obvious someone would earlier or later see through her concealment and she wouldn’t let it happen to be sent back… Rharijem would not learn of her fate. Cycles passed by while she tended her child within the womb, living from the war rations in the Cargo-Hold that were stored there. With each passing cycle, the birth of the child came closer. Alone, in the cold, without anyone to care or tend about them. She had to hold back a hysteric chuckle just by the thought of the degree of irony this entire situation was. And even more because it was actually more endurable than to stare into Rharijems empty face cycle by cycle and listen to the words of nothing but bloodshed, death and the rise of the empire.

    Would truly be men like him be the kind of Eldar that would bring them to a second rise? As cold as a Necrontyrs body. As soulless as the Mon’keigh who were dubbed ‘Angels of Death’. As berserk as the Green Tides of Orks. Did he even remember her name? Or did she become just a faceless Eldar to him? The thought alone was emotional so painful that it triggered the birth out of surprise and pre-maturely.

    “Live! My child! Perhaps he will care for you. Yes… Yes he will! You will be a child of the newborn empire.” She moaned in pain, preparing herself the best she could for the child that started to be pushed out. “The first of the new generation! My chiiiiild! For him, for me, for us! Become a strong one! Become the best Eldar! Become Khaines Bloody Hand if you need to!” A scream of pain left her lips. “Live on! Be strong! I will always… W-w-watch!” Another scream was released, followed by fast breathing and panting, her hands grasping after the child, pulling it to her chest.

    “Rhari….” Her voice was exhausted, not even having enough strength to finish a single last word. Replaced by random sounds of the newborn, she collapsed, being drained of her life force, passing away slowly. The images and thoughts of the man she loved more than anything, despite all he has done to her, passed by within a friction of a milli-cycle. Just as her life passed before her inner eye, before her soul transgressed into her soulstone she saw all the good times for one last time. The soulstone of hers now glowed in an azure-blue, just like the eyes of her child that took this trait over of its ishar that eventually would turn as emerald-green as those of its father.
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