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The Emperor's Blood.

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Old 12-02-2013, 01:18 PM
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Default The Emperor's Blood.


Just my fiction about the Warhammer 40.000 universe taking place on the death-world of Freudakia, a place once of lush jungles and such, but now increasingly under the thumb of the industrial planet Ciralix and the Adeptus Mechanicus due to the planet's riches in mineral wealth. Freudakia is a Deathworld were camouflage is everything while visibility means exposure and plain death even the commissars have learned that lesson and embraced it with camo-cloaks and other items of misdirection.

The Emperor's Blood.


Chapter I

Few of the Catachans had seen the man coming out of the shadows, and fewer lived to tell the tale as he seemed to show up whenever they were about to be overwhelmed by stinking Orks. The man was said to be angel-faced like the golden-haired Primarch Sanguinius of the Blood Angels-legion back in the days they were an actual legion, and not a mere chapter. He was even rumored to be more deadly than even the Warboss leading the Orks. Draznob the Unkillable. A horrible beast of a huge Ork that had killed thousands of men, killed Space Marines and even a Vindicare Assassin as his legacy was well feared by any sensible humans at the surface of Freudakia.

One of the few who saw the man was the Catachan private Gordon Hicks, a muscular, middle-aged man of an olive complexion. He saw the man revealing himself to him as he with a baritone voice heavy with authority said. "Make your platoon fall back to the tumbled over trees over there private." The order were said in a calm, but compelling manner as Hicks turned his head looking at where the man was pointing. It was to a superior position, then he was dragged aside behind the tree the man were standing behind as the man almost seemed like he tried to shield him from the blast. Next he saw the man which furry grey cape seemed to swallow the shadows, while he wore a blackened out combat-uniform, not unlike that of assassins from the Deathcults with the exception of the cape and greatcoat.

From a chain he saw the man having a brutal-looking gunmetal-colored meltagun, it hanged against his hip as he saw the man mount his black bayonet from a knife-sheath attached to the right side of his black pants as he mounted it at a lasgun of ancient design as he saw the camouflaged weapon methodically being checked for dirt or anything. That was done in nanoseconds as Hicks didn't know he was shell-shocked. He then saw the man take a step forward then settling down in a kneeling position with one elbow easily resting on one knee. He took aim towards the rowing horde of Orks storming through the jungle. He fired a short burst again the few foremost Orks.

Most continued their advance, one Ork stopped up starting to slap the few stragglers that were covering up in the jungle-terrain. It didn't last long as soon a hotshot lasbolt hit it in the throat from many leagues away melting the throat of the brutal thing. The man now revealed himself fully to the bewildered Catachans out there on the flank, as he cast aside his cape, showing himself in his commissarial uniform, well armoured, black as night, out of his hat jutted out his golden hair as he growled to them with a surprisingly loud voice. "Get moving to the position behind you sons of bitches!" He pointed for a little while to a more easily defensible position behind them consisting of fallen Freudakian hardwoods that provided ample cover with natural gun-emplacements, before he turned, cracking off a few lasgun-shot with his lasgun against a Rokkit-Launcha crew that had ventured out from their hiding-place in their jungle desperately trying to reload the Xeno weapon. They died from the lasbolts hitting them at several locations though even at that range the commissar had cracked home headshots at both Orks who hit the muddy ground with small cauterized wounds in their faces.

The Catachans reacted swiftly as they with haste withdrew though in the good leapfrogging fallback-order every Catachan learns to master before he or she are five year of age. As for the commissar a young sharp-eyed private spotted him wrap himself in the cape again disappearing into the mist again, yet he spotted the direction as the commissar left for a a heavy-weapon-position the Catachans had abandoned days earlier.

The commissar only faced spread weapon-fire and sniper-fire for at least one longlas covered him and silenced any Ork trying to strafe no-man's land while pinning the Orks down in potholes and behind trees in the quagmire that was the jungle. Eventually the commissar reached the heavy-bolter, he rapidly found the ammunition he was searching for at the rotting corpse of the loader which laid in a puddle of mud swelling, and swelling and swelling. Looking like it drank, and drank, and drank never filling up.

The commissar swiftly loaded the heavy bolter just as the Orks burst free from the undergrowth of the jungle howling their earth-shattering. "Waaaagh!!" As they charged forward the commissar cut down droves of them as he swiveled the heavy bolter into position blasting them with the exploding bolter-shells killing and maiming bodies as the heavy bolt-shells penetrated all but the thickest of armour exploding inside the Ork it hit often showering their compatriots with shards of gore and bone. Though soon accurate lasgun-fire were pouring in from the Catachans as well downing many Orks at quite the ranges showcasing the accuracy of the Catachans.

As the commissar rummaged through the packs of the swelling body trying desperately to find ammunition, one member he had long since thought as dead suddenly jerked a hold of his pants. The commissar rolled around, and looked straight into the eyes of a man who were more intestines and internal organs on display. He saw the man's brown eyes, the face was about the only thing whole at the helpless creature who whimpered with a voice lost to pain and madness. "Help me commissar." Rapidly the commissar looked the man over, the eyes was bloodshot from the intense agony he was under.

The commissar, just opened his greatcoat. Inside it was numerous canisters of melta-ammunition lined up with many knives which he had fastened to the cerapace-armour which encased his muscular frame. He quickly drew one of the blades, a brutal-looking black blade as he whispered. "Sorry my friend, all I can give you are the Emperor's mercy." The man tried to answer, but too late, the commissar rapidly stabbed the man in the throat slitting it, before he wiped off his obsidian blade at the ground while he closed the eyes of the pathetic creature that once were a man with his armoured fingers again whispering. "You can feel privileged my dead friend, I rarely do favors."

He then turned away from dead man laying in the mud concentrating on getting more ammunition to the heavy bolter, which he soon was rigging up to fire a burst-attack once in a while. While he himself rapidly made himself scarce crawling away from the heavy-weapon-platform.

That he did just in the nick of time as a barrage of badly aimed frag and krak-grenades embarked upon the jury-rigged gun-emplacement, soon blasting the heavy bolter sky-high in a large explosion as several grenades exploded in implausible ways which also hit the bloated corpse sending the worms and other flesh-eating stuff inside it flying in every direction as it popped like a water-balloon hitting a wall with a sound that can only be described as extremely revolting.

He heard on the Catachan vox-channel a crackling, then a hoarse voice saying. "Metal on the move, Sector B-17. Over and out." Immediately he wrapped himself in his cloak getting over there, he could see the Catachans almost routing as three Ork Dreadnoughts of a random build and even more randomly equipment were charging at the Catachans that were practicing their leapfrogging fallback-tactic.

He stepped out from behind a Freudakian hardwood with his meltagun which he had readied as he had ran across the battlefield aiming his weapon at the largest one, a huge red Ork Dreadnought. A spike of light then erupted from behind that hardwood towards the Ork Dreadnought. It hit, but it just left a glowing scar on it's armour and showed some of it's glowing innards. It immediate turned towards where the commissar had been unleashing a hell of a fire from it's clanky and primitive-looking but rather advanced weaponry that would have hit and murdered the commissar hadn't he immediately curled into a ball behind the hardwood that was cut off like three meters above the ground in the hail of fire. The cut-off part of the tree made a jump then crashed behind the commissar almost grazing him.

He the recovered, stepping out again, having sat his meltagun to fire at maximum strength while he was covering up. A new spike of light emerged from behind the tree. He hit the same area of the Ork Dreadnought, which promptly exploded in a spectacular fireball, taking with it the other two Dreadnoughts with it making the spectacular explosion even more spectacular as unbeknown to the commissar hundreds of Orks were stalking behind them utilizing them for cover.

What also happened completely hidden from view was that the mangled pilot of the Ork Dreadnought was launched high into the air, far higher than the explosion alone should allow, and it later landed in the middle of the camp of the Ork Warboss Draznob, smashing one of his Ork Nobz heads to smithereens along with it's own body as it crashed through a few floors landing on the Ork Nob Standing there with it's lemet in the hand while discussing strategy with the Warboss. Immediately Draznob yelled. "Oomies think ey can urt us, we'll teach em! Come un ur Runts lets teach da oomies a lesson!" With that the commissar accidentally had released a far greater threat to the Catachans and himself without even realizing it as he with a smile watched the carnage as he again slipped into the shadows intent on just leaving the battlefield.

That didn't materialize as he made a few steps towards the edge of the battle, just to find a wounded Catachan who weakly whimpered. He made a quick anatomical scan of the Catachan in the ditch. He was wounded from as gut-shot. The commissar guessed from some sort of shotgun as he jumped into the ditch of the Catachan who slovenly tried to hit him with his dark Night Reaper as he gargled forth. "Blasted commissar i will-" The commissar with a smirk easily held back the attack as he hissed. "Friend I'm here to help you." While he rapidly disarmed the Catachan, not even letting him retain his pistol as the muscular, bulky Catachan snarled. "Frak you commissar." The commissar just smiled as he hissed. "Yeah that's the spirit boyo, use your hatred towards me." Meanwhile he had rummaged through a pocket of his greatcoat finding a pair of tweezers along with his laschisel which hie activated burning the tweezers in order to sterilize them.

The Catachan then saw him remove his blackened-out combat-gloves. The were made of bendable cerapace. He saw at the left glove it was the words: "The Emperor Protects!" At the right glove he was more surprised to find ethced into the solid metal-like gloves. "The Emperor Lives!" Yet any thought he had on that matter was soon cut short by the immense pain he suddenly was feeling as the commissar showed some dirt into the mouth of the Catachan then started removing the pellets with the tweezers. While the commissar hissed. "Bite the pain Catachan, you can do it. Come on, bite the frakking pain. Focus on me, I'm a commissar use your hatred of me you weakling." As he said that he was operating on the fallen soldier. Removing pellet after pellet. He heard the mattered breath of the soldier was getting fainter, his right hand went into the pocket of his greatcoat finding a syringe of adrenaline. Then he ripped apart the green t-shirt of the Catachan, before setting the adrenaline into the heart of him. He came convulsing back to life.

Feeling nothing but pain. The commissar smiled gently at him, saying softly. "You were good soldier, what's your name boy?" He felt the commissar were suturing him, which meant inbetween he had to find the time to cleanse needles with his laschisel and pocket the tweezers as he said while spitting out the stuff the commissar had stuffed into his mouth. "Private John Monroe commissar and you?" Not before he had said that they heard the customary sound of Orks which surged towards them, the commissar reacted immediately getting his lasgun up. He fired several shots on the advancing Orks downing two of them, but these were 'Ard Boyz. Ork-Boyz clad in heavy materials they somehow were able to move in while they laughed as las-shot after las-shot bounced off their armour. Still the commissar managed to make his shots count concentrating his fire on the faces of them.

But one slipped through jumping into the ditch almost crunching the skull of the wounded Catachan as it landed. Immediately the commissar span around bringing his bayonet to bear on the ork while narrowly dodging the blow from the savage Ork-axe. Then he with haste inserted the obsidian blade into the Ork tearing through the armour as it was cottage-cheese at centermass, then going upwards tearing the face of the Ork in two in a spectacular display of bloodshed before he turned around as another Ork landed next to him. With a savage spin the commissar brought the bayonet to bear almost beheading the Ork who fell back with a rather stupid glare as the lights went out of it's red eyes.

Still more Orks poured forward as the precise lasgun-fire could do little but to stem the tide as more 'Ard-Boyz reached the ditch. The commissar reacted immediately as two entered the ditch, with one smooth movement his hands went to his black epaulets out came two extremely sharp knives, each ended up making an Ork 'Ard-Boy fall arse over head in the forehead of the Ork just as the commissar drawing two of his monofilament knives from his torso-armour getting into the center of the landing Orks. He immediately struck out attacking the torso of two Orks landing, with the blades going through the armour of them like a hot knife in butter as they screamed in pain for nanoseconds before toppling over stone-dead with their intestines and blood soaking through cracks of their rust-red armour.

Still the Orks retaliated now trying to shoot the commissar that got behind one of their numbers, spun it around facing them and their onslaught of Slugga bolts while it stood there writhing in pain and shock as limbs came flying off while the 'eavy-armour buckled and cracked under the onslaught of exploding bullets opening up the body of the Ork to grievous wounds to the torso of the Ork that stood there jerking as each bullet hit it with full force as the commissar covered behind the hulking creature. The Orks stood still for a moment then the commissar having drawn his long and savage black chainsword kicked the Ork forward whistling sharply as he pushed the activation-rune to full power beofre he sliced through the defenses of two Orks at once almost slitting off their torsos as the chainsword with a grinding noise tore into them going through the 'eavy armour like a hot butter would go through cottage-cheese after it first had smashed their choppas (Ork-axes) into several shards.

He killed a brace more of Ork 'Ard-Boyz in this manner before he menacingly moved in on the last one which he had incapacitated the slugga off with a monofilament knife thrown from his torso-armour during the fighting. He snarled to the Ork in a rather messing and condescending tune. "We shall tame the psyker, purge the unclean, kill the mutant and most important of all cleanse the Xeno from the Universe. So sayeth the all-powerful and all-knowing Emperor of Mankind sitting in all his glory on his Golden Throne. Amen." The ork whimpered as the commissar said that, before the commissar lifted his chainsword high into the sky, then struck at the ork standing there having just wet itself due to the savagery the commissar hard just shown in the melee. He struck hard, but instead the blow was blocked by a huge chain-axe as both chain-weapons made an awful whining noise with their teeth grinding against eachoter.

The commissar looked to the side. A towering Ork Nob stood there, in all it's might covered in red crudely painted mega-armour. It roared to the commissar. "U mught huve tuken da Runts, but-" The commissar immediately cut it off by tossing a monofilament blade into the plasma-weapon the Ork was wielding, which promptly got aimed towards him, who just grabbed the shocked 'Ard-Boy. The Ork fired, but instead the plasma-weapon blew up evaporating the hand of the Ork Nob who roared with pain as the commissar kicked away the 'Ard-Boy. Just in time to parry a savage blow from the ork himself while drawing yet another of the dozen knives he had strapped to his body.

Then followed a series of brutal attacks from the Ork Nob, which the commissar did well to parry, dodge and side-step as he weaved his heavy chainsword in a defensive movepattern while he patiently waited for an opening. It finally came there in the ditch as the Ork overextended itself meaning the commissar could jump in with his monofilament knife trying to stab at it's heart. He immediately tried it, but although the move was successful he had miscalculated the thickness of the armour of the beast, who immediately smacked the commissar to the floor with the stump of his arm. Then he got a savage kick leveled at his torso sending him sky-high, but the commissar retained his chainsword as he caught a branch from an overhanging tree, slowing his descent while he landed in an area he could control while a nearby 'Ard-Boy charged him.

The 'Ard-Boy was soon dispatched by a backhand blow from the commissar who concentrated on the Ork Nob that surged forward, and when it reached the commissar it swung it's chain-axe in a wide sweeping motion. The commissar sensed the opening he had wanted, ducking underneath it, plunging the chainsword with an ear-splitting grinding-noise deep into the torso-armour of the Ork. Though he rapidly withdrew the chainsword making a countersweep at the pulped arm that came with blistering speed towards him. The chainsword with a disgusting crushing sound made contact with the limb crushing and eating through flesh in a spray of blood. The Ork brought it's huge head close to the commissar to let out an ear-piercing roar before it would bite the man's head off. The commissar reacted first, immediately shifting his chainsword from grinding at the arm of the Ork Nob to smashing into the mouth of the Ork with a truly revolting sound as the chainsword ate and grinded it's way through the brain and then the skull of the Ork Nob before exiting at the top of the head of the Ork while brain-matter flew everywhere.

The commissar smiled a happy grin as he turned around to face Monroe, who with a serious expression now was pointing his own lasgun on him. He immediately dove to one side as Monroe kneeling fired the gun with a short burst against the surviving Ork 'Ard-Boy. Who came jumping into the ditch with two choppas fully intending on falling into the back of the commissar. The burst of lasbolts stopped the Ork in it's tracks as four cauterized wounds in the eye-region of the Xeno killed it mid-flight as it slammed into the ground behind the commissar. Still covering just incase the Catachan wanted to kill him the commissar called out while laying behind a tree. "Now boyo, don't you shoot me, I have saved your life private Monroe."

Monroe replied. "I saved your life commissar, that Ork 'Ard-Boy tried to kill you." The commissar turned around looking at it laying there in the ditch-mud, as he packed away his laspistol back into his holster, though he left it it unholstered just in case. Then he halfway yelled over to the Catachan. "Thank you private, can I ask for a favor soldier?" The Catachan yelled back. "Anything commissar. What's your name by the way, you never told me" The commissar smirked as he crawled out to go an retrieve his knives then yelled back. "Commissar Zachary Carrus, but you will only call me commissar Carrus private. I hope I have made myself perfectly clear." The Catachan while cracking off a few shots at some Ork-Boyz that had strayed to close killing one of them with a burst of lasgun-fire simply said. "Clear as mud commissar Carrus, I shall only call you that."

Eventually Carrus gathered up everyone of his monofilament knives though as he reached the body of the Ork Nob Monroe heard him cuss silently. Monroe immediately came up with. "Come again commissar?" Carrus swiftly made his way over to Monroe after wiping off his knives and cleansing while whistling his chainsword. Then he leaned in whispering almost without sound with his hand cupped at the ear of Monroe. "It was nothing private just that I lost a monofilament knife. Can you stand private?" The private nodded and tried to stand, but he was soon caught by the commissar who whispered. "Carry my lasgun and I shall carry you back to the Imperial lines private." Then without further ado he began to walk back towards the lines of the Catachans wrapping them both tightly in the greyish shadow-catching fur of the Shadow-Tiger which adorned his back as they crossed into the no-man's land beween the Orks and the Catachans.

They soon crossed into the lines of the Catachans, with Carrus gently carrying the hulking Monroe. Though some Catachans paid the commissar immediate and surprising respect, though he dismissed it as they were just glad to see a fallen teammate in his arms, as he just stopped by one bewildered Catachan who tried confusingly to salute him, first saluting with his left then right hand. The commissar just sent the bulky black man a shrill look as he bawled out. "The medical-facility, now private." The man said with his surprisingly thin voice. "I'm a lieu-" Carrus immediately cut him off yapping. "I'm carrying a wounded man, show me the frakking medicae of I will kick your frakking ass around the camp until I frakking find it! And then I will make damn sure you are demoted to toilet-digging and cleaning-duties for the rest of your frakking life! Am I understood?!" With that the lieutenant just nodded to a sergeant to take over his duties as he waved the irate commissar carrying the wounded private with him.

As they went the lieutenant said. "Excuse me commissar, but the man should maybe be laid down to rest." Carrus growled as he carried the wounded soldier. "Negative lieutenant I have attended to the injuries of private John Monroe, they are not of that character." He paused for a while shifting the weight of the heavy and muscular private toppling over one hundred and fifty kilos of mainly muscle before he said. "Sorry for the threat lieutenant, but it's a time of duress." He got a nod and something resembling a smile from the lieutenant, as they continued deeper into the camp.

Eventually they reached the medicae-facility, it was like everything else dug into the quagmire that was the Freudakian jungle. The lieutenant stopped the commissar while he nervously said. "Wait here commissar, I will get you access. Must just talk to the medicae-sentry." Carrus gave him a small nod, while he shifted Monroe to the ground. Removing one of his combat-gloves taking his pulse. He felt to his pleasure it was stable, then he gently slapped Monroe awake while he remorsefully said. "Sorry for the slapping, but how are you private?" The private answered whoozily. "I-I t-think I'm fine commissar." Carrus immediately began to fieldstrip the Catachan, desperately searching for the wound, he eventually found it, just in the nick of time, he rapidly removed it, while he gave the soldier a shot of an blood-ampulle from a syringe before he rapidly committed to do interprompto surgery on the lower back of the soldier.

The lieutenant came eventually with the head-doctor a scrawny old coot with greying skin, smelling like rotting fish clad in the classical though unfitting uniform of a catachan as he was far along the throws of age and atrophy. Carrus had seen this before, he was a human that had rejected the latest juvenat-treatment. He smiled sort of at Carrus with his missing brown-yellow teeth. Carrus continued to operate on Monroe as the doctor took over expertly closing the wound with a skill-level Carrus could live millions of lives without hoping to attaining. Following him was two stretcher-bearers and the lieutenant. The doctor examined the other wound carrus had closed. He ran his grey fingers along it. He sighed with a surprisingly pleasant sounding voice in the mild baritone-area. "You did a fine job with your suture and laschisel commissar, might I know where you learned it?"

Carrus answered. "Thank you doctor, I learned it at the Schola Freudakia." Carrus were about to say more but the scrawny doctor got up, peering deep into the blue eyes of the much younger man as he stated. "Likely true, but you showed me good ability with the closeness of the suture commissar." Carrus just smirked as he answered. "I'm from the Schola Freudakia were every soldier is a medic, and every medic is a doctor doctor..." The doctor sensed the truth in what Carrus said smiling an unnerving smile, which the commissar much to his surprise didn't even flinch at as he retorted. "You have then had excellent tutors young commissar, I'm doctor Criexius VadDre."

Carrus made a stiff salute as he saluted VanDre stating. "I'm honored to meet you doctor VanDre, I'm commissar Zachary Carrus of the Schola Freudakia, though only call me commissar Carrus." The doctor replied. "I'm pleased to meet you commissar Carrus." Immediately Carrus said to the doctor. "Who is in charge here doctor?" VanDre replied with a smirk. "We have an Ogryn-sized, rather big jawed fellow we call colonel here." Carrus not noticing that the fellow got up behind him said. "Excellent, show him to me doctor."

A booming voice were then heard behind him. "The Ogryn-sized, rather big-jawed fellow is right here commissar." Carrus turned immediately around. VanDre certainly wasn't lying he concluded in his silent mind as he laid eyes upon the man. He was absolutely hulking, dwarfing even Monroe, one eye was replaced by a high-quality laseye. He saw that one hand hefted the chain of a heavy bolter hanging over his shoulder while the ammunition-belts were strapped around the extremely muscular body of the man who only wore the classical t-shirt and cargo-pants with combat-boots as protection from any elements contrasting greatly with the heavily armoured Carrus who toted around almost eighty kilos of cerapace, though the huge powered fist sparkled gently of the latent energy in it and he noticed the heavy bolter the man had draped across his back just like he carried his lasgun there now after he had retrieved it from Monroe not long ago.

He immediately made a stiff salute that was sloppily replied to by the Catachan making Carrus conclude in his silent mind that he one day wanted to see them participating in a military-parade with a smirk cutting a cruel scar at his angelic face as he then said. "You are colonel..." He let it hang like a question. The man didn't answer instead he heard the pleasant voice of VanDre say. "Colonel James Stremm meet commissar Carrus a first-rate medical officer." Just as he said that he slithered away into the darkness of the underground borrow moving with a speed that surprised the commissar a little. Stremm on his side smiled widely at the younger man saying. "You have to forgive doctor VanDre, but he is a bit loopy. They get that way when they have been around for the better part of a millennia commissar."

Carrus just grinned. "I should know that already, plus medical-personnel are the last people you want to piss off except for the people that serve you food colonel." he then changed his expression into a more serious one groaning. "Now tell me what you are doing here colonel." Stremm dragged Carrus with him to a more silent corner of his camp, motioning for Carrus to stand really close, as he brought up his hand, whispering into the ear of the commissar. "We are here to slay the Ork Warboss Draznob the Unkillable commissar."

Carrus just barked back not worrying about secrecy or anything. "Take me to the Master-Voxer ASAP colonel." They soon were crawling through the dug-in Catachans. Carrus noted the many traps and how the huge colonel had much more agility than even he could fathom as they crawled through the bunkerish compound the Catachans had somehow carved out of pure mud. Eventually they got into a large space. Even Stremm could stand there, Carrus looked around in the room. It was primitively furnished when you saw away from the state of the art Master-Vox-Boy 3000 Master-vox-system standing in the middle of the room.

Immediately Carrus moved over to one of the Catachans a fair-skinned guy with a black mohawk, he just with silence motion for him to move his ass. Which he promptly did, though as he got up he said in the ear of Carrus. "Excuse me commissar do you-" he cut himself off as Carrus whistled a merry tune removed his commissar-cap laying it at the wobbly table as everyone present shuddered audibly for him as they for the first time saw the insignia of the black low-peaked cap. They had expected to see a blackened out version of the Aquila or the skull so many commissars wore. Instead they saw to their horror the half skull half mechano-skull insignia of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

"You serve the AdMech?" The Vox-Operator coffed out. Carrus immediately snapped. "Soldier, you don't coff in the jungle." He then looked a bit calmer as he smiled a bit while still messing with the frequency of the Master-Vox while he said. "Yes I serve the Adeptus Mechanicus private." He dialed a few numbers on the lighting-table there before he then said. "And you don't call the Adeptus Mechanicus the AdMech within earshot of me private." He turned on the uncomfortable and unbalanced primitve chair he was sitting on laying his blue piercing eyes on the muscular fellow as he snapped. "I assume that's perfectly clear private?" The man immediately yapped back. "It is commissar, but my rank is not-" He cut himself off as Carrus raised a hand before he calmly retorted. "I see no rank-insignia at your uniform, so until I know you, you are a mere private to me."

With that the soldier just stood back fearing to antagonize the commissar further as he eventually hit a Vox-signal he recognized as he said with his voice sounding as neutral as possible. "Commissar Carrus to Freudakian military unit, do you copy? Over." The answer came immediately hissing in his ear. "Vox-Operator on Schola Freudakia here commissar Carrus. Glad to hear your voice again, how can we be of service commissar?" Over."

Carrus just told into the Voxophone. "Glad you are Vox-Opererator. Set me over to Inquisitor Kelkaris ASAP. Commissar Carrus out." A few minutes later Carrus heard the familiar baritonely deep voice of the Inquisitor over the Vox saying. "Inquisitor Kelkaris here, do you copy commissar Carrus? Inquisitor Kelkaris over."

Carrus responded with. "I read you loud and clear Inquisitor. Bring up everything you got at Sector A-16 and 17, B-17 and C-16 and 17, plus arrange for weapon and ammo-drops for ehm... everything at Sector B-16 with weapons as I suspect the Catachans are low on everything. Commissar Carrus over."

Immediately the answer came back as a hiss, though Carrus hit the switch letting everyone of the Catachans hear the answer. "Request accepted accepted commissar, drops will begin in less than an hour, bombardment in less than half an hour. Might I inquire what the commissar has found? Inquisitor Kelkaris over."

Carrus answered. "Found the Catachan..." He looked hesitatingly up at Stremm who leaned forward saying with his extremely deep voice. "The Catachan 184th Devil dogs. This is colonel Strremm speaking, leaving word to commissar Carrus. Over." Carrus continued. "The devil Dogs has traced the Ork Warboss Draznob the Unkillable Inquisitor, so I was forced to abort the mission, but I think it will come here anyway Inquisitor. Commissar Carrus over."

Kelkaris responded, but to say that he sounded not happy would be to say that Kharn the Betrayer was not a morning-person. "What do you mean commissar? That Warlord Dranob would come to your position? Have you killed metal again commissar Carrus? Inquisitor Kelkaris over." While the rest of the room looked positively scared Carrus answered while sounding as calm as the morning-wind. "Positive Inquisitor I killed metal again, so I'm predicting an assault on our position ASAP. Commissar Carrus over and out." He turned off the Master-Voxer as he turned to the shocked Catachans explaining calmly. "Relax Catachans we have some time to evacuate the men from the positions, vox it to the men colonel Stremm then set picket-lines." He turned around utilizing the computer making the coordinates blink on the screen infront of them. Then he arouse stretching like a smug large cat in the Master-Vox-room as he smugly said. "Come now colonel Stremm we have a battle to prepare for."


Last edited by Beaviz81; 12-04-2013 at 09:55 AM..
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Old 12-02-2013, 02:30 PM
risk10 (Offline)
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Hi Beaviz and welcome to the beat!

You may be a novice writer (in age or experience, I do not know), so sorry if this sounds too harsh for your first piece of feedback, but I am afraid it may be the only feedback, if what I read in your first line is any indication of what is to come.

That's right: I did not even get past the first line. The rest of this could be a masterpiece, but you lost me with bad punctuation, poor grammar and terrible word choice - and that was the first line!

I have edited it below, purely for SPaG (I have also highlighted words I would change).

Originally Posted by Beaviz81 View Post
Even as the Catachans were stealthily was (remove: verb - noun confusion) taking up positions in the Freudakian jungle, a legend got (not the best word - I would use 'was') whispered (by whom? from where?) barely audible for the whispee (this part is probably not needed, but the word whispee doesn't exist for good reason: it sounds rubbish) ."
Look, you clearly have passion, which is great. But without taking care with your work, especially longer works (I am making an effort to read long pieces, as they seem to get less love), nobody is going to trawl through another 1000+ words of the standard which is above.

WB caters for all walks of life and levels of writer. My suggestion to you is to start small. Short stories in the 600-1200 word range, even ones that are not well written, garner far more critiques than chapters or longer works.

At the end of the day, this is only a suggestion. It is my views, and is based solely on the first sentence; however, that sentence is rather poor and certainly put me off the rest of it. Feel free to ignore me.

PS: Just read your intro - as English is a second language, I appreciate it's difficult to grasp the grammar rules and word choices, but I still stand by the above. Get to know this place a bit and write some shorter works - this will help
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Last edited by risk10; 12-02-2013 at 02:33 PM.. Reason: Just read your intro
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Old 12-02-2013, 02:43 PM
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Beaviz81 (Offline)
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I have taken your advice at least into consideration, though I don't know what SPAG is, doubtlessly anything positive, and I'm sorry the first sentence put you off that badly, at least it now is changed.
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Old 12-02-2013, 02:48 PM
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SPaG - Spelling, Punctuation and Grammar.
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Old 12-04-2013, 06:05 AM
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Hi Beaviz,

Thanks for posting your piece. Great big blocks of text intimidate me into not reading them, but I did look at the comments and your first paragraph. I scanned over the rest to get a sense of the subject.

This paragraph will absolutely kill the deal with your reader, not just this reader, any reader.

"Even as the Catachans stealthily were taking up positions in the Freudakian jungle the whisper about a legend got whispered barely audible for the recipient of the whisper from one Catachan to another as they pressed their hand to the ear of the recipient whispering the tales. What they whispered about were the tale of a man that stalked the jungle like the fog sometimes stays over the motionless lake, all present, but also no-where. Such was the legend of a man now stalking in their midst."

Regardless of any technical error, which I did not look for, the redundancy is coma inducing. I didn't count ,but it looks like about a hundred words to say: "There were rumors in the mist."

The first paragraph is your chance to intrigue the reader, to whet the appetite for your tale. Seduce. Do not waste this chance by an obsession with exactitude. Distill to the essense. "We were afraid, it was dark, there were spirits in the mist, we could smell the enemy out there, waiting. Garn shit his pants. Elmo vomited. I sharpened my knife." Get to the business, whatever the business is.

Good Luck
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