YOU ARE A GOD!

>>11689755

I fear for you writefaggot. The janitor has returned to /tg/ from where toom caste him, most likely the bottomless pits of /b/. He will come seeking blood...

>>11689787
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/11618035/

>Bison yes.jpg

>>11689837
I thought that thread died because it was like five days old and near the maximum number of posts?

The months turned to years, and my companion soon began to age with the passing of time. Where once her hair was a brilliant yellow in color, streaks of grey had begun to appear. Lines had begun to show upon her once flawless face and her eyes grew dim when they once shown with youthful vigor. I don't think I fully realized just how age affected mortals. Astartes are proof to the frailities of normal human beings, and age among with many other things, could not defeat us.

One day, after a hard fought battle against a warband of Khornate Berzerkers, I arrived back on my battle barge's bridge where Sylvia had taken up her residence. To my surprise, she was not there to greet me as she did countless times before. My surprise turned to apprehension as my calls for her went unreturned.

I finally found her in her makeshift bed. Her breathing was shallow and fitful, and her face had grown pallid and lifeless. I sank down on one knee and bent my head to her chest.

Her heartbeats were growing dim with every passing second, and a twisted feeling sprang into my gut when I realized my companion might no longer be there to grace my side.

As I lifted my ear from her breast, her eyes fluttered open. I saw the joy in those blue pupils and was struck dumb at the emotion they contained.

"Thank the Emperor," she whispered through her lips, "I thought I wouldn't make it. But Bless the Throne, you came back in time for us to say goodbye."

I could not reply to that.

"Please," Sylvia begged me, "tell me your name."

>>11690135
oh man drama, she should have been a tech priestess

"Apophis," I breathed through the vocalizers in my helm, "I am called Apophis."

"Apophis," she smiled up at me, "That is a beautiful name."

"Not as beautiful as you," my words were truthful. It shamed me that it took me so long to see how beautiful she was.

"That is the first time you have complimented me on my appearance, Apophis," her smile grew but the light in her eyes dimmed further.

She drew a shuddering breath.

"Can I... Can I see your face?"

I hesitated at that. I hesitated. Not because it was a strange request. But because of tradition. The Thousand Sons seldom showed their faces to outsiders of their Cults. And so, I hesitated.

Another shuddering breath snapped me from my reverie. I disengaged the gorget locks as quickly as my fumbling fingers would allow. I tore the helm from my head.

Too late.

Sylvia was dead. That last breath I heard had been a death rattle. I flung my helm away with such force that the faceplate dented when it connected with admantium wall. To this day the dent remains, a reminder of my failure.

I sat for a long time, gazing mournfully at her cold body. She was not my battle-brother. She had not tread upon the same battlefields as I did during the Great Crusade. She had no heroic feats to her name. So why then? Why did I feel for her loss more than the loss of a hundred of my brothers?

I realized then, I had my first taste of love. But this was not the pleasant feeling described by the remembrancers of the Crusade. This was a bitter emotion, a raging sorrow that tore at my heartstrings. Is all love like this? Does all love lead to sorrow and despair? If so, why are humans so willing to praise this empty promise of an emotion?

These questions I have asked myself through the long millenia after Sylvia's death. I have yet to find their answers.

>>11690135


IN TENTS


Seriously, this is amazing

wow deep

>>11690602
SONFOFABITCH.jpg

should have been a techpriestess

>>11690602
I promised myself that I would not cry...but...but the tears...they heeded not my pleas...they refuse to obey my cries...

B-B-B-BUH-BB-B-BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!

>>11690844
its ok man there are other bitches that he could save

Please continue

>>11690844

Crying as well, can I sit down by your side and lament Sylvia with you?


I just pray that there will be more of this.

>>11691239
Your prayers will be answered! Just not today. I'll be busy tomorrow, but should be able to post updates on Tuesday.

Thought of the Day: The man who has nothing can still have faith.

>>11691430

Tuesday. Then I will pray and meditate upon your wisdom until then. On Tuesday I will one more contemplate your glories.

When Prospero died, there was little glory in its death.

Lance batteries struck its surface in bright beams of incandescent death, splitting the earth into great smoldering ravines. Bombardment cannons rained massive shells onto the land, demolishing entire mountains with their destructive fury. Plasma torpedoes slammed into the besieged planet in a dozen places, boiling away whole oceans and incinerating entire cities.

I watched this in horror, as did the warriors of my Fellowship. Our horror turned to anger and wrath. What treacherous foe would dare attack the homeworld of the Thousand Sons?

The answer shocked us all.

From the bombarding fleet above came hundreds of screaming Stormbirds painted in grey. Screaming missiles blazed across the skies on contrails of fire, impacting across the entirety of the capitol city, and blasting apart innocent civilians and Prospero Spireguard alike. Heavy bolters spat volleys of detonating shells and ripped fleeing men and women into bloody ribbons. Lascannons hissed and slew tanks and buildings indiscriminately with concentrated beams of light.

The Stormbirds landed, armored hulls pitted and scored from our return fire. Numerous gates clanged down, smashing into ruin the streets the people of Prospero had labored hard to build. And from the depths of each transport, in a mad charge of bared fangs and screeching chainblades, came a howling host of Space Wolves.

bump for great justice!

and someone archive this shit already

Until that part gets changed about his dudes taking the reputation of all the other legions by insulting themselves and bowing their heads to a god-like entity... I boycott this.

And the faggot who wrote this could benefit greatly if I were to link this to a certain someone. So fuck him.

>>11692658
>derp

>>11692658
the only faggot here is you

>>11692658

>I'm going to 'boycott' a story posted on an open, anonymous message board..
>Hurr durr that will sure show him.

>>11692658
Dude, I kind of agree that that part wasn't that great.

But must you sound like such a dick about it?

>>11692658

Bump

No retreat, no surrender!

OP serves the Emperor.

So, uh, is the next part coming soon?

>>11692658

in the words of Paul Williams;

"Good for nothing, bad in bed
Nobody likes you and you're better off dead
Goodbye, we've all come to say goodbye (goodbye)
Goodbye (goodbye)
Born defeated, died in vain
Super-destructive, you were hooked on pain
Though your music lingers on
All of us are glad you're gone

If I could live my life half as worthlessly as you
I'm convinced that I'd wind up burning too."

Bumping for more.

Emperor provides

Giants of men, the Wolves of Russ were. The pelts of lupine beasts were stretched along their backs in a macabre decoration. Glistening wolf fangs were bared at us in bestial hatred, and howling warcries were directed towards our battle line. Ceramite fists clasped tight revving chainswords, shrieking frost axes, and mighty war hammers. Like the nordic raiders of old Terran myth, the Space Wolves descended upon us in an orgy of bloodletting.

The earth shook at their thundering charge and the heavens were filled with their roars and bellows.

We stared into the face of destruction and could not believe that our destroyers would be our fellow brothers.

The Space Wolves and the Thousand Sons were never close. Magnus preferred the company of the faultless Fulgrim or the princely Sanguinius. Leman Russ was the epitome of what my primarch strove to avoid. Quick to anger. No patience. Ignorant and unwilling to learn. Looking back, I guess these differences in ideals was what lead to the inevitable clash.

All across the city, the sons of Magnus pulled back the firing pins on their bolters and readied for the oncoming storm.

I can always say with pride that the first shot was not fired by us. It was the Space Wolves that committed this sin. Their bolters spat death towards our ranks, injuring many, killing few. The only thing we could do now, was fight back.

Our own return fire ravaged the Space Wolf advance. Grey armored forms toppled and fell, wracked with agony as our weapons found their mark. Heedless of these losses, the Wolves continued on, howling war songs as they came.

To combat this threat, our sorcerers marched from our lines, fingertips outstretched and words of incantation upon their lips.

>>11695646

Burn the Wolves! Call upon a Storm from the Great Ocean!

This is addictive to read.

I await the next part with baited breath.

war

OP, I think I love you...

>>11697316
me too

Brilliant writefriend is brilliant.

In case this thread get 404'd, OP fics are here:

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2207877/Tyrant_of_the_East

>>11698335

>The God of Death Offshoot Story I
>Crossover - Warhammer & Twilight - Rated: T
>Rated: T

should be rated m, for massacre
I am dissapoint

>>11690602

thread has been archived. it's rly not that hard to do.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html

>>11698335
i like you

>>11698452
God of Death is "Crossover - Warhammer & Warcraft - Rated: T"
not Twilight. It is also awesome. The only thing I hate about the Confessions of a Wayward Son story is that it's taking OP away from the God of Death. It's that awesome.

>>11698840

Not really. Confessions of a Wayward Son is being written as kind of a break from the God of Death. That's why the updates are so intermittent at times here on /tg/. Whenever I grow bored of writing a section of the God of Death, I work on Confessions.

>>11699013
Oh, in that case, carry on with the excellent work. 10/10.

MOAR!!

The first to strike were the members of the Pyrae. Masters of the flame, their unleashed sorcery engulfed entire swathes of the advancing Space Wolves in eldritch fire. Men burned inside their power armor, reduced to cinders and ash within seconds. Besides the Pyrae came their automata servants. War machines of hissing pistons strode alongside their human masters, cannons bursting with relentless fire. Wolves perished by the dozens by this onslaught, but onwards they surged, nevertheless.

Next to attack were the Pavoni. Able to manipulate their body chemistry to suit their purposes, they flung arcing tendrils of lightning at the Sons of Russ. Lethal whips of energies lashed towards the Wolves, splitting men apart with wild abandon. Those tendrils that did not strike men crashed to the ground and detonated, leaving glassy craters in the ground and throwing Astartes from their feet.

The sorcery of the Athanaeans followed that of the Pavoni. Able to read the thoughts of others at a whim and manipulate the unwary into doing their bidding, the Athanaeans played havoc with Space Wolf communications. Orders were countermanded, commands misconstrued, and warriors directed in the wrong direction. The Wolf charge became disorganized and confused, and were easy targets for the continued assaults by the Pavoni and the Pyrae.

Incorporeal barriers sprang up before our lines as the Raptora made their presence known. Where the sons of Russ focused their heavy weaponry, the members of Raptora were there to dull their effectiveness. Bolter volleys met psychic shielding and exploded without harming those behind. Far from being ineffective besides defense, the sorcerers ripped the limbs from our attackers through sheer telekinetic force and flung the Space Wolves’ own tanks into their ranks.

The last of our cults to perform their deadly arts were the Corvidae. They struck as the Wolves were bare inches away from colliding with our lines. Using their talent of precognition to their fullest, they danced around incoming bolter round and descending chainblades with flawless elegance. Their ripostes were lethal, unavoidable blows that drew rich Astartes blood from grey ceramite. Space Wolves fell like wheat before a scythe, and soon the Corvidae had littered the ground with dead enemies.

We roared our approval. The Space Wolves would pay for the treacherous deed of attacking another Legion. The Emperor made the bonds between Space Marines sacred. Harsh was His punishment for those who broke them. We were prepared to administer that punishment.

And then things went awry. One by one, our sorcerers cried out in shock as their powers failed them. Lightning fizzled and dissipated. Flames died out as though if touched by water. The barriers before us failed and collapsed. Shock turned to confusion and outrage. How dare the Great Ocean fail us now in our hour of need?

It was then we saw the reason why. Marching besides the Wolves came the warrior women of the Silent Sisterhood. The null maidens that would doom us all. And beside them marched beings that sent shock coursing through our ranks.

Custodians.

>>11699393
Oh shit! It's on now!

>>11699393
MOOOOAAAAAR
FOR THE EMPRARRRRR PLEASE
MOOOAAAR

Bump

Bump for the Bump God!
Long lived threads for the Thread Throne!!

BUMP

I will bump this endlessly until the end of endless.

DON'T YOU DIE DAMMIT

Our vox-net descended into chaos. Questions shot back and forth, asked by thousands of men all at once.

"Why are the Custodes here?"

"Why do the Custodes march with the Wolves?

"What madness is this? The Emperor's Praetorians could never march with traitors!"

Fine questions. All of them. I had no answer for them then, and neither did my brothers. A sudden horrible feeling sprang into my gut as I watched the figures wreathed in golden plate advance side by side with the Wolves. We had thought we were in the right in this conflict. But here were the Emperor's own bodyguards, coming to mete out judgment. Could it be we who were in the wrong? Could it be the Thousand Sons who were the traitors?

But that couldn't be, I remember thinking to myself. The XV Legion had done nothing to antagonize the Wolves and would never betray the Emperor's trust. The sons of Russ were the first to break the bonds of brotherhood, with their immense flotilla of starships raining destruction upon our world and slaughtering millions of Prospero's citizens. We did not provoke them. We were doing nothing more than defending our homeworld against unjust invaders. How could we be wrong?

I had no idea then, just how deep Magnus's betrayal was. I did not know that the Emperor sent the Space Wolves to bring us into custody. Had I known, I would have sank to my knees and accepted this sentence. Many of my brothers would have done the same.

Our Fellowship captains bellowed orders through the vox-net, telling us to target the Null-Maidens first. I raised my plasma pistol and took aim at the nearest Sister.

The two ranks clashed, one a howling tide of grey, the other a stelwart line of red.

YESSSS IT CONTINES

man.... this thing is just awesome... call the Black Library ! NAOH !!

All I can say is... Ave Imperator.

>>11699363
>>11699393
>>11705331

made of pure win. Do not stop, archive!!!

oh lord it is oh so late............. i must sleep but i dare not miss what awaits me in the next post of this great story. good night /tg/ for tomorrow i shall scour this board for this mighty thread to read the rest of this great tale

i salute you OP, you have created another great piece of work for /tg/ to call our own and i thank you for sharing it with us. do not change /tg/ do not change

*ahem* Bump

Bump, dammit!

Wait for the moment of realisation, It's going to be BAM! Oh god what have I done?

For the Primarch
I bumped in his name.

UPDATE DAMN YOU

>>11689755
you are absolutely a literary beast, i've never followed a thread as avidly as this. if you write a book, im reading it. idgaf what it's about.

Bump.

Quality writing here.

bumping

http://copthatslut.com/?id=vtd1v8faz4az2kp7x1gxr02vjpa5xw

Help this guy spread revenge on his ex-gf!

OP! i lovededed you, please post moar. In addition to your writing talents are your suspense talents

I have read many a sob story and I haven't felt the need to cry yet.

I promised myself that I wouldn't cry.

I broke that promise.

MORE

Also, bump. If more GW books were written like this, I'd read it all.

This stuff is great.

My plasma pistol hissed, and I saw the Null-Maiden's eyes grow wide. A wave of scorching heat washed over her, reducing the warrior woman to specks of dust that blew back into the faceplates of the Wolves she was protecting.

The sorceror beside me spoke his thanks into his vox, and raised high his arms. A dozen Space Wolves were lifted into the air, their bellows of rage continuing even as they flailed wildly. The sorceror's hands clenched into tight fists, and at once the roars of anger turned into screams of agony. All the Wolves were dropped to the ground, their power armor crumpled as though if crushed by armored fingers.

The sorcerer once again rose his arms to work his art, but this time, nothing came from his outstretched fingers. Another Silent Sister had taken the place of the one I incinerated, and before I or my brothers could slay her, the Wolves hit us in full force.

The Sons of Russ were a whirlwind of destruction. Their shrieking chainblades rose and fell with no elegance, no finesse. They did not need them. The Space Wolves relied on sheer power alone to break through the enemy, and none so far had been able to defy them. But here, on the sandswept plains of Prospero, against the warriors of the Thousand Sons, that doctrine would be solely tested.

Our line held, bolters blazing, staff-blades slicing. Exploding shells detontated against war plate, both grey and crimson, and left screaming men on the war trodden soil. Plasma cannons hissed and whined, turning entire squads of Astartes into floating motes of scorched ash in a heartbeat. Lascannon beams streaked wildly back and forth, punching holes into tanks and vaporizing men. War blades met and showers of sparks rent the air. Frost axes sundered apart those in crimson. Staff-blades impaled those in grey.

It was here on this battlefield that I killed my first Space Wolf.

hnnnnnnggggghhMOAR

For this story to be published by BL, it would require

More dialog
More Character
A less confusing storyline
A central plot
Some kind of Quest
A tragic ending.

Yep, once you get all this. You're going sky high.

>>11712715
I'm probably not going into a writing career. I only write for a hobby.

>>11712715
>>11712843
This combined is what is wrong with the world.

>>11712715

>A less confusing storyline

Pray tell, what exactly is confusing you here?

The fact that it suddenly jumps into reminiscing? Jesus fucking christ, you'll have A Game of Thrones and the rest of the ASOIAF novels

>>11713326

Hate, not have.

Damn, I need to sleep

>>11689755
BUMP

MORE BUMPAGE

waaaaagh! op rules

bump!!!!

His armor was pitted and scarred from our punishing fire, and his shouldguard was singed from the Pyrae's sorcery. He came at me with a snarling chainaxe, monomolecular teeth whirring with fierce delight. I blocked the brutal strike with the haft of my staff-blade, my arm shuddering from the force of Astartes muscle.

I did not want to kill him. Strange, considering our line had already clashed with theirs. I could not shake off the feeling that this, this butchery between brothers, was wrong. We were all created for one purpose by the Emperor, to ensure the progress of the Great Crusade. By slaughtering each other here, we were destroying the very fabric of what we shed blood for so long to build.

As I turned aside his blow, I spoke into the vocalizers within my helm, begging him to stop this madness. He refused to listen, and struck again with his axe.

"Sorceror!" the Wolf spat through his own vox-emitters, "Warp-dabbler! Traitor!"

His last word drove me to the height of fury.

We were not traitors in this. We could not be. We were not the ones bombarding a brother Legion's homeworld. We were not the ones slaughtering a brother Legion's people. When the veil of battle lifted and the bodies of slain Astartes cooled, we would be remembered as the righteous and the Wolves would be decried as the traitors. I was sure of this.

How the fates laugh at the confident.

The Wolf would not listen to my pleas. His chainaxe descended upon me again and again, only to be parried by my stave. Finally, I gave in to the battle lust that sang in my own blood.

I rammed my weapon deep into the Space Wolf's chest, the keen edges of my weapon slicing through his ceramite protection. As the Wolf's body grew limp, his eye visors locked with mine.

"Traitor!" he spat and died.

>>11715543
BUMP FOR TEH BUMP GOD

>one person probably OP bumping this endlessly
>note the similarities in the majority of the bumpers posts and then the radical difference in their posts after this post

>>11715792
Mad troll detected

Stay epic, OP.

>>11715792
Haters gonna hate.

>>11715792
who gives a shit if OP bumps it, its an interesting story

Wait, chaos marines not being monodimensional saturday morning cartoon villains?
What madness is this!!!??

>>11717283

A /tg/ tradition, slow-posted writefaggotry is often the most delicious when done, much like slow-roasted meat. Juicy, tasteful, and devoured like hungry wolves by Anon.

Bump because this is awesome

A second passed where I remained motionless. A thousand thoughts raged into my conscience, slamming against the walls of my mind. I nearly dropped my stave from my fist.

I just killed a brother Astartes. I slew him and broke my sacred vow to the brotherhood between Legions. I looked to the heavens and waited for a lightning bolt or sheet of flame to strike me down for my blasphemy. No such sign of divine anger materialized. Lances of bright energy continued to desecrate Prospero's crust from the spaceships in orbit, but none descended upon me.

The next Space Wolf leapt at me, his unhelmeted features tight in a scowling mask of hate. This time no pleas for understanding came from my lips. My pistol spoke, and I vaporized the Wolf while he was in midair.

Once again no streak of lightning or billowing carpet of flame struck me for the sin I committed.

The third son of Russ to come at me bore a screeching chainblade in each hand. He charged at me like a maddened berzerker and I met him with my staff-blade. I could not match his strength, but I was his superior in terms of technique. Blows were dealt and returned in a heartbeat, each strike like blurrs to mortal eyes. I rammed my stave into the Wolf's uprotected neck, and ended his life impaled on my weapon's blades.

As chemically-rich blood streamed down the haft of my staff, I again peered into the skies. Only the shapes of warships greeted my gaze, each one framed against a blood red sky and spearing beams of light into the flesh of the world I loved.

There was no punishment incoming for my crime. No divine retribution coming to destroy me for the atrocious sin of slaying another Astartes.

For the first time in my life, I wondered what strength there was in the bonds of brotherhood.

Bump

I like how OP writes his stuff and style
which is more easier to read compare to the other GRIMDARK books

OP, you are a god among men, keep writing.

Also, times like this is why I come to /tg/.

This will never die.

Truly greatness shines on the OP. I have not seen writefaggotry of this caliber in a long while.

Too Mary Sue for my taste, but still decent writefaggotry.

>>11720518

He slid off the tip of my staff and fell to the ground in a loud heap. I turn back down the now quiet hall and take in the carnage. My brothers, my drones, stand silent as the grave over the lifeless shells of their, my, kin. The magical energies released from the dead color the world red.

So much lost, so many dead; but I have to know. I march towards the golden doors and raise my staff in defiance. Summoning my power, lances of red and green lightning arc towards the intricate portal. For all my strength and will, the massive frame opens at a snail's pace before coming to rest, forming a minute crack that I can barely pass through.

I struggle with my fear for but a moment, then squeeze past into the amphitheatre beyond. In the center of a swirling mass of burning magics sits a massive beast atop a throne of tortured souls. His one, massive eye stares down at my lowly form.

"No more games, Father," I challenge, "You know why I am here."

Wings that span over twenty meters open with menacing grace as a malevolant smile forms on those scowling lips.

Magnus the Red casually raises a single claw into the air. Before him, between us, an archaic rune forms out of swirling white vapors.

It is the distinct shape of a stylized...

"U"

I fall to my knees as his mocking laughter washes over me.

i think we need to put this on 1d4chan for its epicness

bamp

In the name of the EMPRAH, this bumpery shall continue!

>>11720767
Wait, what?
>That's ficarvin

>>11722225

That wasn't OP. I was making a joke based on that 'mary sue' comment from earlier; basically, it turns out that Apophis was actually an Ultramarine all along.

I forgot, however, to have Magnus say, "The truth about your origin, yes, I know."

Or something to that effect.

All together, I believe I was a little too subtle.

>>11722433

OP here. I got it. :P

>>11722481

How are you still awake?

captcha
>"plan" norewara

>>11722599

Its not yet midnight here. I'll add another part to this story and I'll be off to bed.

>>11722616

Well, in that case...

Our line held, despite the savagery of the Space Wolves. Short ranged firefights erupted where the sons of Russ could not bring their swords and axes to bear. Bolters spat death in continuous volleys, blasting off chunks of ceramite from power armor on both sides. Sheets of burning promethium jetted out from flamers, covering groups of battling Astartes in fiery agony. Men fell, clad in grey and crimson, and turned the sand beneath our feet into mud with their blood.

Where the Space Wolves struck the hardest, our line buckled, but held. Here, there were no staccato booms of roaring boltguns. Instead, there were the piercing wails of chainswords and the eerie thrum of power weapons as warriors of both Legions were embroiled in a bloody melee. Pistols barked at face range, driving exploding shells into bellowing men. Lightning Claws slashed. Power fists pulped. Thunder Hammers smashed. The men who died here could not fall, for the ranks were so crowded together, there was no room for them to topple.

Intermixed with the Space Wolves, were the gold clad forms of the Sisters of Silence and the Custodians. Two handed swords crashed into Thousand Son skulls, and were riposted by thrusting staff-blades. Guardian Spears stabbed and cleaved, parting limbs and heads from ceramite bodies before their owners were slain by vengeful Astartes.

If this had continued, both Legions would have surely been decimated by the senseless slaughter. Hundreds of thousands of Marines would have died for no purpose, myself probably as well.

This was changed when Leman Russ, primarch of the Space Wolves, smashed into our formation. Flanked by two wolves the size of lions, The Lord of Fenris singlehandedly tore our line into pieces.

>>11722910
brilliant

>>11722910
>This was changed when Leman Russ, primarch of the Space Wolves, smashed into our formation.

>>11722910
bumpan for primarch fightan

BUMB

sometime I wanna know.
do Magnus or Russ know that Horus set these two up for fighting?

>>11726436

Magnus does.

For the greater bump!

*bump*

Bamo

Bump

bump!!!

I have to know what happens next!

dont die, thread

Wooo bumpan

This thread deserve a bump

>>11726436


Essentially, Horus didn't want Leman (or Lion'el for that matter as well) anywhere near Terra. Whereas Lion'el was betrayed by Perturbo on Isstvan, Leman was used by Horus as merely a pawn.

Let me just bump this up a notch

POST MORE YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD

Wielding a mighty sword crafted from the maw of Great Kraken Gormenjarl, the Primarch of the VI Legion was the picture of raw agression. With vengeful howls his blade flashed down and slew Astartes with every stroke. Crimson figures fell in droves before the Wolf King's advance, power armor sundered and torn. Return blows from our own blades did nothing to Russ, glancing off his indomitable form or bouncing from his immense war plate. Even our sorcerers were of no use against this powerful being crashing through our lines. Lightning whipped at the Wolf King and flames scoured his frame. Leman Russ laughed and shrugged these attacks off as though if they were nothing.

We could stand against the Wolves, against the Sisters, and against the Custodians. But we could not stand against a primarch. Our attempts to resist was crushed by this demi-god who could shrug off a blow that would have killed a mortal man ten times over.

We could not best him. But we had someone who can.

All across our ranks, the vox-net came alive in desperate cries. Throats ragged from overuse shouted out again, saying the same words over and over.

"Magnus! Magnus! Save us Father!"

But our primarch did not answer our pleas for aid. It was on later did we learn that Magnus had refused to battle alongside us to atone for the sins he had committed.

Leman Russ's advance could not be halted. My brothers gave ground, slowly at first, but when the Wolves following their primarch poured into the hole within our line, the fighting withdrawal dissolved into a series of desperate last stands.

But this was not all. Another disaster, even more heinous than this bloodshed between brothers, struck us in full force.

I watched in horror as a Space Marine, clad in the livery of my Legion and not three steps from my position was taken by the flesh-change.

>>11732789

Oh The Horror!

Please continue this riveting tale.

bumpity bump, I want more storytime

I am very happy, that there still are such men as OP

The Astartes screamed in agony, his voice carrying over into the vox-net. This was no cry of pain and agony, it was a shriek from a man in fear. But we were Space Marines. We did not know fear. And then I saw the reason for my brother's scream and I will admit now that I became afraid.

The Thousand Son's flesh erupted from the joints in his armor, squeezing through gaps like molding clay. The skin on his flesh grew blotched and sickly, and leaked from his war plate like a river bursting from a sundered dam. His wails became maddened and insane. Soon, there was no more proud Astartes of the XV Legion. Just a hideous blob of expanding meat.

The flesh-change. Mutation. The weakness that all of us shared.

More screams sounded into the vox-net. All across the line, Space Marines clad in crimson fell to their knees, their bodies quivering from multiple pain-induced spasms. I cried out in horror as men were turned inside out by the ravages of mutation, while othes became twitching, twisted parodies of themselves. Thousands of my brothers were affected at once, dying horribly as their unstable bodies expanded into hideous shapes.

Even the Space Wolves were horrified by this, and stopped their raging assault as they neared those who had fallen from the flesh-change.

I heard the word "retreat" bellowed again and again into the vox, and my feet took me away from the scene of carnage. I forced myself to look, in time to see the Wolves administer mercy executions to those mutated who were still alive.

I did not know it then, but this was the first punishment for a betrayal not ours.

Fuck year.

And apparently captcha wants me to "reporto any" so watch out.

>>11737024

Pray continue this fascinating story.

This needs a 5 day sticky just so the OP can finish his story. Incredibly more deserving of a sticky then some of the crap that's been getting one in /co/

bump

>>11739046
How the heck did you post exactly the same time that I did?

>>11732789
>We could stand against the Wolves, against the Sisters, and against the Custodians.
>and against the Custodians.

Great writefaggotry, but that sentence is confirmed for utter gay shit cunt bullshit.

In 10,000 years of warfare, only 12 Custodians died. The majority of those 12 died during the biggest Waaagh in the history of the Galaxy.

It doesn't really change the story, but it's a bad mistake.

I feel he EPIC overtaking me, it is a great joy.

>>11739100
Don't be such a faggot. The story is narrated from a PERSPECTIVE of Apophis not you. Write yer own fuckin story

Bump

>>11739100
Then it's been retconned. Several of them die during the Siege of Prospero during A Thousand Sons.

>>11739141
Yeah, well we all know about GW and their ''shitconting''. I just don't understand why they can't leave the fluff alone even after ten fucking years.

Well bumping straight along...
>Captcha: 357 poradjoi whatever a poradjoi is captcha wants a lot of 'em.

>>11739141

True, but the marines back then were gods of war, and Custodes are still on that level. Nowadays, I doubt that anyone that wasn't alive back then could take on a Custode.

>>11739141
Okay, point taken. Does anyone know how many die during the assault?

Still, it's a bit of a foolish notion that:
>We could stand against the Wolves, against the Sisters, and against the Custodians. But we could not stand against a primarch.

But I'll admit, Aphopis might just be a bit biased.

>>11739767
Exact numbers aren't mentioned. I do recall one moment, where a Thousand Son sorceror kills several Jetbike-riding Custodes by smashing them into the ground with telekinesis and remarks "They aren't so tough". Oddly enough, the impression I got from the book was that the Sons WERE holding out quite well even against the Custodes - so long as they could kill the Sisters of Silence nullifying their abilities, the Sons were putting up a fierce restistance against anything the Wolves or Custodes could throw at them. It was only when Leman Russ arrived and pratcially tore their defensive line open single-handedly that they started to crumble. Of course, at that time, Tzeentch's plan came to fruition and many of the Sons lost control of their abilities, were possessed, or began to mutate, so by that point they were pretty much fucked anyway.

>>11739817
Indeed. I remember being pretty angry that the Custodians were portrayed relatively weak in that story, but what can you do? It's fluff now. So if the Thousand Sons can hold against Custodians in the fluff, they can hold against Custodians in this story.

>>11739998
Yeah, annoying. I mean, Leman Russ got the shit slapped out of him by the Custodes when he tried to storm the Emperor's chambers because he's an ADHD kid who wants to tell pappy about the new thing he discovered.

>>11739817

I think that depicition of custodes is alright. Emperor did not instantly take over Terra from the warlords despite having Custodes on his armies, and if they were vastly stronger than Marines the latter would have not been worth creating , despite being able to be mass produced. Emperor would just have done his conquests with only Custodes and normal soldiers.

>>11740025
You forgot that the Custodes are too difficult to massproduce.

When the USA goes to conquer some country, they send a couple thousand troops. They don't send a couple thousand air craft carriers, do they?

>>11740049
He mentions they can't be mass produced. What he's saying is correct, if the custodes are really that much more awesome than normal marines, the conquest of Terra should've been a lot easier.

>>11740080
The Custodes are superior to Space Marines.

But because they're so difficult to produce, they're only used as bodyguards and EXTREEEEEM HEEEAAVY SUUUPPORT.

>>11740049

What I am saying is that if Custodes are that powerful, there is no need to mass produce them.

Normal human troops will occupy the fodder niche, Space Marines would not be needed if a Custode is more powerful to a ludicrous extent.

>>11740080
Custodes were created AFTER taking over Terra. They were the original space marines, but were too difficult to mass produce, so they were given a different task instead.

>>11740092
You don't know much about the Great Crusade, do you?

When Warbosses were as big as Dreadnoughts or even bigger?

>>11740129

>dreadnought sized

That is non-canon stuff which for some reason has taken hold in /tg/. Nowhere in any depicition of the Great Crusade has that been mentioned, any moreso than stuff like Angry Marines.

Not even when describing the boss who strangled the Emperor.

post MOAR!!!!!!!!

I have never felt such love for the Thousand Sons.
Bumping with TITS.

bump man.. .just bump it up !

Bumping because people need to read this

>>11741131
NEVER go to sleep with your glasses on or near your head. It's a good way to break them

>>11741131
Sauce? All I know is zombies.

I'll read this shit once it is finished, can't bother to read parts posted next 3-6 days more it to be finished.

>>11743465
Then it is probably Highschool of the Dead

>>11743455
Oddly enough that show is about zombies

Bump

Psyker > Marine

Psyker-Marine > sooper Marine

1000 Sons <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< AdCustodes

I can envision this...

Graham McNeill skims /tg/ or Warseer. Happens across a Custodes thread, sees fanwank.

"What the fuck am I reading?", he thinks, and goes to the bigwigs and asks:

"Can I portray the Custodes as plausibly beatable foes for the 1k sons in my novel?"

"Sure why not" is the answer and thus we get a canon source portraying the actual capabilities on a battlefield. The end.

superior

bump

>>11743650
Seems probable.
And why I favor McNeill over the others: he's not the best writer, but his stories are often clever.
He'd be the one to ask, "ok, what's the actual effectiveness of the Custodes?"
Abnett is a flat-out better writer, but what he has in immersiveness and characterization he lacks somewhat in writing stories that are plain -that's just going by the Ghosts, I haven't Ravenor or Eisenhorn.
Abnett has said that the inspiration for some of his works has been 'the Ghosts at a WW1 standoff.' and 'the Ghosts doing a paratroop assault' and 'the Ghosts in a haunted mansion siege.'

McNeill's written the only story I know of in which Chaos wins and Abbadon's plans move forward one at least one front.

Incredible fanfic, among /tg/'s best.

>>11745915

This is a days-long thread, anon. You may have to return in several hours for moar from the writefag OP.

Bump.

Just give op what time to write.
good things comes from waiting

BY THE ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY THE GOD EMPEROR OF TERRA WE MUST HOLD THE LINE TILL THIS IS ARCHIVED! THE EMPEROR PROVIDES AND WE PROTECT!

Holy hairy moses. Writefaggotry that is not shit?

Archived.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/11689755/

In ragged groups, the Thousand Sons fell back, our bolters still firing but our aim wavering and unsteady. To see the flesh-change appear so suddenly amongst us destroyed our spirits and sapped our will to fight. Thankfully, the Space Wolves did not pursue, instead halting to kill those we had left to the throes of mutation. As we retreated, the vox-net came alive with the voices of sergeants and commanders, ordering head counts from the squads and companies they commanded. It was then, that we discovered just how terribly the flesh-change ravaged our ranks. Many of our best sorcerers, our finest links to the Great Ocean, had been lost, the majority claimed by the rapid deformities that violated their bodies.

We withdrew back to the pyramid spires that were the foundation of our cults. So very few of us left then. From a Legion of tens of thousands, we had been reduced to a paltry twenty hundred. Half of those alone that perished were dead because of the flesh-change.

We were not alone in our retreat.

The remnants of the Prospero Spireguard marched desolately beside us, their weapons dragging behind them in their defeated gait. Civilians, those few that survived the orbital bombardment, shuffled with us, carrying what little treasures they could save on their backs. This is what was left of the glorious homeworld of Thousand Sons. This is what remained of the most enlightened people in the Imperium.

A bastion of knowledge and wisdom died that day, consumed in the fires of hate from men we once called brothers.

As we approached Magnus’s sanctuary, we once more cried out to our father for aid. Once more, our pleas were ignored.

You idiots this is a copy/paste from the fucking Thousand Sons book

>>11747333
The main character is a Thousand Sons sorceror. The current chapter is about him reminiscing about losing Prospero to the Space Wolves. What did you expect?

>>11747405
So...

When is the Blood Raven part?

The pyramid towers that sprouted from the sand would be the place for our last stand. Gleaming like polished marble, they would become worthy gravestones for the XV Legion.

As distant engines sputtered and the howls of our adversaries grew nearer, we readied our weapons for one last battle. The Spireguard did the same, standing side by side with their superhuman kin, socketing bayonets to their rifles in the inevitable clash at close range. Only the civilians did not make ready to wage war. They huddled together for comfort, their eyes devoid of emotion. The sons of Russ had taken everything from these people short of their lives, and their haggard faces displayed the shock of losing so much.

We did not have to wait long for our destruction to arrive.

The Space Wolves advanced in the same way as before, brandishing their chainblades in plated fists. Like a solid wave of grey, they surged towards our feeble position, eager to close in for the kill. And like an angry god, was Leman Russ Himself, striding forward ten steps in front of the Wolf ranks. His war shouts were the loudest of all, eclipsing the rest in fury and volume.

We steeled our resolve and unleashed a volley of death from our roaring boltguns.

Warriors were punched back by detonating shells, their war cries turning to screams of suffering. Grey clad forms toppled, weapons falling from lifeless hands. Intermixed with the Space Wolf slain were the gold wreathed figures of Custodians and Sisters of Silence. Death visited all equally, and no difference in uniform prevented the Reaper’s Scythe.

But we were only two thousand, and what ruin we could visit upon the foe was greatly diminished. Return fire ravaged our own lines, and I saw good men, both Astartes and Spireguard die in spurts of their own blood.

With a triumphant cry, the Wolves slammed into our ranks like a sledgehammer, their rending blades descending upon our heads. We Thousand Sons resisted this fierce assault, but the mortal humans who fought beside us stood no chance. The Spireguard and civilians were slaughtered by the ruthless Sons of Russ, butchered in great disemboweling strokes from chainblade and frost axe.

As the men and women we had sworn to protect fell from savage blows, our voices entwined to call for our father once more.

This time, Magnus the Red answered our call.

GODDAMMIT MOAR

LAWL MORE

omg omg omg xD

>>11748197
Only two thousand? Does this mean the thousand sons are the smallest Chaos Legion by far?

>>11751079
The Sons of Ahriman, a splinter group, recruit to replenish their numbers.
But actual 1K Sons are pretty damn rare, IIRC.

>>11748197
>civilians were slaughtered by the ruthless Sons of Russ, butchered in great disemboweling strokes from chainblade and frost axe.

BASTARDS

>>11751079
Pretty much. Loyal legions suffered similar losses in the drop site massacre but they could replenish their numbers in a way the Thousand Sons can't. They were also the smallest legion to begin with

Bump so OP can actually finish this fucking story

>This time, Magnus the Red answered our call.

I WANT MOAR
DAMMIT!

>>11752128

This act of writefaggotry has already taken multiple days.

Seriously. How long will it remain?

>> Anonymous 08/20/10(Fri)13:16 No.11754092

>>11752128

This act of writefaggotry has already taken multiple days.

Seriously. How long will it remain?

As long as it continues to be cool, that's how long. Shut up and let it continue.

bump

bump

Polite bump

BUMP FOR THE BUMP GOD!
THREADS FOR THE THREAD THRONE!

bumpity bump

BUMP I WANT MORE

Magnus was like a storm of devastation as he strode through our ranks.

Warp lightning streaked from my primarch’s palms, frying Wolves, Sisters, and Custodians alike with their destructive fury. A mere gesture from him and an entire squadron of Predator tanks were lifted from the ground and thrown into the mass of our enemies, crushing power armored forms beneath admantium hulls. A single word uttered from our father’s mouth and a wall of flickering flames blazed towards the Space Wolves, igniting grey ceramite and turning Space Marines into living torches. The brows of the Cyclops narrowed and a hundred Astartes erupted in plumes of their own blood, popping like blisters from sheer telekinetic force.

We cried out in joy, and redoubled our efforts against our attackers. If our end was nigh, then this was the end we all would have chosen. Fighting shoulder to shoulder with our brothers with the primarch leading us to the end. This was glorious, and our veins sang with a battle lust that rivaled our foes.

The Thousand Sons would not cower as they died. We would die as Astartes should, a bolter in our hands and defiance on our lips. Imperial history would remember our end, and remember it well. The day the XV Legion fell would be ingrained in the minds of every righteous soul in the Imperium. The day when a handful of loyal men fought to the very last against heinous traitors. We would die on the sand swept plains of Prospero, but our legacy would live on, as protectors of the realms of mankind. The Space Wolves will win this battle, but their punishment from the other Legions and from the Emperor would swiftly follow. I was sure of it.

We followed Magnus’s steps, the thundering refrain from our boltguns interlacing with the screams of the dying to form a cacophony of battle.

And then we heard our primarch’s voice.

just rewriting the conclusion of the 1k Sons novel is boring, moar Drizzt of Chaos please.

“Retreat,” he told us, his psychic voice more potent than any vox, “Fall back to the pyramid spires and do not come out.”

His order shocked us to our very core. We did not want to retreat, to fall back while our primarch died for us. How could we live without our father? How would the Thousand Sons be whole without the demi-god that was our gene-sire? We could not watch Magnus die against the Wolves while we hid ourselves in his sanctuary.

We did not move from our positions, bolters still blazing at the grey clad foe.

“Go! Now!” came our father’s psychic scream.

We hesitated, looking to one another for support. It was Ahriman that was the first to break formation. Casting one last look at Magnus, Ahzek strode towards the pyramids and entered them, his head downcast and defeated. We followed the Chief Librarian, our hearts heavy with grief.

The massive gates slammed behind us, hiding the raging battle from our view. We did not realize it then, but the sight of our primarch flinging sorcerous energy towards the Space Wolves would be the last of the man we loved. What we saw after was a being corrupted by the very power he once controlled. That being was not my father, was not my primarch. The madman who rants and raves atop his obsidian tower is not the Magnus I once knew.

Prospero fell in this way, claimed by the orbital fire from Space Wolf ships, and its lord giving in to the Changer of Ways.

There is a god resting in the depths of my ship.

It is a massive, warlike construct, with a snarling face of solid admantium. It once strode across countless battlefields of yore, its two mighty legs driven by hissing pistons and rumbling engines. For arms it has immense weapon mounts, armaments more suited to the decks of starships than anything on land. Across its gargantuan frame are numerous defense batteries, bristling with battle cannons, multi-lasers, and heavy bolters. Sheets of thick metal cover its iron bones, dented from centuries of war but never penetrated.

Once it had waged slaughter alongside the Astartes Legions, butchering xenos with holy fire from its limbs and smashing apart their war machines with its gargantuan feet. Once, it had borne the shining torch of humanity to the darkness of the galaxy at the forefront of the Great Crusade alongside the twenty Space Marine Legions. Whole empires fell when it and its kin tread, and entire armies were slain wherever its displeasure was meted out.

There is no foe this god cannot destroy, no enemy it cannot crush under its iron heel.

There is nothing in this universe on land that can match its might.

There exists no foes worthy of its cannon blasts aside its corrupted kin.

It is the mightiest weapon in the Imperium of Man, the god-machine the Mechanicus bow their heads in worship to.

It is a Warlord Titan and it belongs to me.

>>11762275
THE PLOT THICKENS

This thing just makes me wanna read prospero burn

The interesting shit that just got interesting right after it got interesting just got MORE INTERESTING.

I am loving this.

HURRY AND FUCKING TYPE YOU MISERABLE CRETIN! I LOVE YOU AND WANT TO READ YOUR BEAUTIFUL WORDS!


also what the fuck captcha!?

>see OP's first thread, don't bother to read it
>come back later, OP is still writing
>bored
>decide to read thread
>HNNNNNNNNNNG MOAR MOAR MOAR

bump

It is called the Trucido Rex. The Slayer of Kings in High Gothic. An apt name for such a massive killing machine.

I encountered it on a world called Zeras, a planet of relatively little significance to the Imperium. It was the Iron Warriors that brought me here, a Grand Company of the Perturabo’s sons and their strike cruiser. I followed them silently through the void of space, ensuring their cruiser’s sensor arrays did not catch the massive shape of my battle barge. I watched with interest as the Iron Warrior ship met a hulking craft in the middle of its journey, before allowing the strange vessel to travel by its side. Then, I saw the defiled cog symbol etched in brass across the ship’s prow.

Dark Mechanicus.

My interest grew as the two vessels orbited the planet, and sent waves of transports onto its surface. Zeras, to my knowledge, was barely inhabited. The people that lived across its barren surface etched out an existence by farming and hunting. The reason why the Iron Warriors, as well as the Chaos Mechanicus would want this world escaped me. And so, I boarded a Stormbird and travelled to the planet’s crust alone to investigate, with my three hundred brothers awaiting my command in space.

The Dark Mechanicus was here by force. Thousands of Skitarii guarded innumerable slave menials and drill wielding servitors, themselves commanded by hundreds of corrupted tech priests. The Iron Warriors patrolled the drop area, and I was careful to shroud my presence from them.

Then, when the last drop ship traversed back into orbit, they started to dig.

>>The Dark Mechanicus was here by force
Don't you mean "in force" ?

Can some one add this to 1d4chan for posterity.
Under no cerium stances will this 404 while I'm here.

MOAR! I NEED MOAR!,
so yeah, bump

>>11766902
you are reading one of the best writefaggotries of all time, and you get excited over an error???

A wonderful read so far, looking forward to more.

Fucking great.

Tis great. Continue.

Superior writefaggotry.

There was only ever, like, a few hundred Custodes. I'm pretty sure that even in the Thousand Sons novel fifty at most died.

>>11767527

Stop looking the gift horse in the mouth. It's damn compelling literature and a few debatable details here and there won't ruin it.

That said, zomg love

It was soon very apparent why the forces of Chaos was here.

One by one, the prone frames of Titans appeared. Warhounds. Reavers. Even Warlords. Each bore the telltale signs of battle, massive scars and craters pockmarked across their admantium armor. Some had been utterly destroyed, mere wreckage that were once invulnerable god-machines. Like corpses in a machine graveyard, they were unearthed by the Dark Mechanicus, who swarmed over each Titan body, desecrating them with blasphemous sigils of the Ruinous Powers.

Tendrils of my conscience spread towards the fallen war machines, seeking answers and a way to halt the dark deeds that were underway.

Cold emptiness greeted my attempts. The machine spirits that was the heart of each Titan had long ago been destroyed by some cataclysmic battle, and none were there to reply to my questions. My heart sank at this revelation. With no machine spirit inside these immense constructs, there would be no resistance when the Dark Mechanicus began to corrupt them to serve the Warp Gods.

And then a hissing, guttural noise sounded within my mind. Weak and strained, its brass tone echoed in response to my psychic probing.

Rarely do I smile these days. But when I heard that sound, I will admit that a fierce grin spread across my lips.

Machine spirit. Awakened and thirsty for war.

>>11768008
war-bro titan hell yeah

FUCK YEAH TITANS

Adeptus Titanicus ftw!!!

bump for titans

>>11767264

No one is getting excited but you, faggot. I've been following this thread for days and greatly admire OP's writing. The question I was asking had more to do with the plot than with a grammar error.

holy fucking 5 days.


>social-political flintene

captcha has been hitting the sauce rather hard these days.

I followed the noise into a cave complex, too large to be made by natural ways. And in the largest cavern within the twisting, natural passageways, I met Trucido Rex.

Its massive bulk was hunched over, but even then, the top of its gargantuan shoulders still scraped against the stalagmite strewn ceiling. A patina of dust coated it from its snarling, bestial head to the immense splayed toes of its feet. The Titan’s metal skin was untouched, unlike the destroyed frames of its brethren the Dark Mechanicus and Iron Warriors were busy unearthing. A pair of tattered banners hung from its weapon-limbs, the Gothic script etched upon their surface proclaiming this war machine as a member of the Legio Proleiator.

I strode slowly towards the god-machine, admiring each and every aspect of this man-made deity. At the same time, I probed the Titan’s machine spirit once more, daring to hope that its soul still remained pure. The response almost deafened my mind.

“YOU ARE NOT MY PRINCEPS,” it rumbled into my conscience, the sound so loud it caused blood to leak from my ears.

“No,” I gritted my teeth, fighting to stay cognizant from the aftereffects of the machinelike bellow, “I am not.”

“YOU PROBE INTO MY SPIRIT LITTLE MAN. THIS VIOLATION IS HERESY AGAINST MECHANICUS PROTOCOL. CEASE AND REPENT.”

I said nothing and instead teleported myself into the Titan’s head, bypassing layers of solid admantium to reach the place where the crew usually sat.

THAT TITANS A BLOODY HEAVY.

Little little man.

Bump for the bump god

MOAR!


MOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAR!

>>11771295
>YOU ARE NOT SAREN.
>RUDIMENTARY CREATURES OF BLOOD AND FLESH, YOU TOUCH MY MIND, FUMBLING IN IGNORANCE, INCAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING.

>>11772289
Fuck yeah.

>>11772289

FUCK YEAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR

>>11775036
Get out. You're not welcome here.

TITAN.

Best Thread evar.

>>11775036
You can't stop what's coming.

The brain of the god-machine was a series of seats and a glass tank. Fried wires and coiled tubes ran alongside instrument panels like multicolored snakes, slithering around the metal seats and joined into brass sockets. Molded bones lay in roughly humanoid outlines, all that was left of the Titan’s crew after the ravages of time. In the glass chamber a skeletal body still sat, lengths of wire running from its skull into the surrounding area. The Princeps, I realized.

“YOU HAVE TRESPASSED WITHIN MY BODY MORTAL,” the reverberating growl of the Titan’s machine spirit nearly forced me to my knees, “CEASE THIS FOOLISHNESS AT ONCE.”

I did not respond and instead made my way to the sealed tank that held the remains of the Titan’s Princeps.

“I AM TRUCIDO REX. WARLORD TITAN OF THE LEGIO PROLEIATOR. DEFY ME IS TO DEFY THE WILL OF THE EMPEROR AND THE ADEPTUS MECHANICUS.”

I clenched my teeth, willing the booming noise to quiet within my conscience. My gait halted when the glass wall of the Princeps’ chamber loomed before me. I placed a gauntleted hand upon its surface.

“YOU. WILL. NOT. HARM. MY. PRINCEPS.”

“Your Princeps is dead,” I whispered, “He has been dead for a while now.”

“SHE.”

“What?”

“MY PRINCEPS. SHE WAS A WOMAN."

>>11775886
This is going to lead to many tears again, isn't it?

>08/16/10

>>11776880
yes

>>11775886
It's a SHE? Oh boy here come CLANG CLANG CLANG.

>>11776880
same thing happened to the first thread. We love this story that much.

FUCKING BUMP!

bump fucking

famp bucking

bump fucked

don't post so we can bump it once a day for another 6 days!

>>11778403
fuck you

Bum Tickley

Yay.

Yar.

>>11778422
>>11778414
>>11778408
>>11778407
>>11778403
>>11778400
>>11778396
>>11778387
>>11778359
>>11778069
>>11777729
Samefag.

Doses of mary sue fed in slow quanitity is still mary sue.

wa wa wa

Six day old threads bumped by the same person constantly is sad.

Very sad.

>>11778430
>I don't know what a mary-sue is.

>>11778452
>I don't know what mary sue means and I must defend what I like

>>11778452
>cant tell when someone full of himself makes a sue story

>>11778451
>>11778430
Oh do shut up. Some of us are enjoying ourselves here.

Now, run along to /b/ and make an ass out of yourself there instead

>>11778481
>me
>that means everyone
>the douche bumping this thread for days

Getting attention in slower moving places to get self pleasure is what you aim for. Stop bumping your thread faggot.

>>11778509

Oh. Do shut up. There is at least one more than me and the author who wants to see this thread continue.
Is it really so hard to hide a thread that you do not like?
It isn't like you are forced to read this thread through, you know.

>psyker contacting a machine spirit
>psykers can't contact machine spirits because they have no "wireless internet" or mechatendrils like techpriests
>my face when this is like the fifth or sixth time this excellent writefaggotry is ruined by retarded writing

Just because it's good doesn't mean you can't make mistakes. Fucking hell OP, learn some fluff and revisit this stuff.

>>11778509
If I didn't know you were a troll in the first place I would get a tad bit angry at this point.

But I shan't. Let's keep things civilized for once.

There are a lot of other threads for you to browse. You don't have to read this particular thread. There are more than just one person bumping this thread because, and this is important so read carefully, people like the story.

If you don't like it there are, as i just wrote, several other threads for you to read at your leisure.
Let us who enjoy this writefag's work continue to enjoy them.

gonna troll and say bump.

Confessions of a Wayward Son on SB in case this gets autosaged
http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthread.php?t=171832

same writer also updated his God of Death story http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5672901/41/The_God_of_Death

>>11778580
>Hurry lets save my shit!

>>11778544
Read Eisenhorn. Titans are psychicly active, iirc.

>>11778544
Indeed. In Thousand Sons, a XV Legion Sorcerer was able to psychically control a Warlord Titan into fighting the Space Wolves.

I smiled sadly and thought of Sylvia.

“She must have been strong, your Princeps,” I murmured, “To hold so much loyalty from a machine spirit even in death.”

Trucido Rex did not respond.

“You must walk. The enemy is here.”

“I HAVE NO PRINCEPS. I CANNOT WALK.”

My head throbbed as the Titan’s answer raged against the insides of my mind.

“You must. If you cannot, the Dark Mechanicus will tear you down and force you into servitude.”

“I HAVE NO PRINCEPS. I CANNOT WALK.”

“Then you will be chained forever to the Ruinous Powers.”

“RUINOUS POWERS? LOGIC ENGINE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND.”

“Chaos,” I said.

A moment of silence reigned. And then a hurricane of noise assaulted my conscience.

“CHAOS. TRAITORS. MANY YEARS AGO. FOUGHT ON THIS WORLD. TWO LEGIOS. TRAITORS. THEY WERE TOO MANY. WE TOO FEW. VALIANT DEFENSE. LOST MANY. MY WEAPONS. TOO HOT TO FIRE. COOLING. STRAY SHOT. DEMOLISHED A MOUNTAIN. BROUGHT RUBBLE DOWN UPON ME. SHOCK KILLED MY PRINCEPS AND HER CREW.”

“They are out there. Digging. Blaspheming the remains of your machine brothers.”

“VENGEANCE. I WILL HAVE VENGEANCE.”

“You will walk.”

“I HAVE NO POWER. I CANNOT WALK.”

“Then you will have power.”

OUH YEAH TITANS !

F5F5F5F5F5

>>11780160
Don't bother, this lasts for days.

BUMP FOR THE BUMP GOD

>>11780160
>Confessions of a Wayward Son IV (Cont.)
Anonymous 08/16/10(Mon)00:52 No.11689755  
Anonymous 08/16/10(Mon)01:21 No.11690135
Anonymous 08/16/10(Mon)01:55 No.11690602
>Confessions of a Wayward Son V
Anonymous 08/16/10(Mon)04:17 No.11692355
Anonymous 08/16/10(Mon)11:21 No.11695646
Anonymous 08/16/10(Mon)16:48 No.11699363
Anonymous 08/16/10(Mon)16:50 No.11699393
Anonymous 08/17/10(Tue)00:38 No.11705331
Anonymous 08/17/10(Tue)11:48 No.11711717
Anonymous 08/17/10(Tue)17:28 No.11715543
Anonymous 08/17/10(Tue)21:15 No.11718675
Anonymous 08/18/10(Wed)02:54 No.11722910
Anonymous 08/18/10(Wed)21:28 No.11732789
Anonymous 08/19/10(Thu)03:36 No.11737024
Anonymous 08/19/10(Thu)23:30 No.11747226
Anonymous 08/20/10(Fri)00:53 No.11748182
Anonymous 08/20/10(Fri)00:54 No.11748197
Anonymous 08/20/10(Fri)23:56 No.11760872
Anonymous 08/21/10(Sat)00:27 No.11761222
>Confessions of a Wayward Son VI
Anonymous 08/21/10(Sat)02:01 No.11762275
Anonymous 08/21/10(Sat)12:44 No.11766731
Anonymous 08/21/10(Sat)15:08 No.11768008
Anonymous 08/21/10(Sat)19:59 No.11771295
Anonymous 08/22/10(Sun)02:43 No.11775886
Anonymous 08/22/10(Sun)12:21 No.11779790

This thread started almost a week ago, as a continuation of a thread before it that started back on the 8th. That was two weeks ago. That is INSANE. This is the longest running (and also slowest burning) series of threads I have ever seen on /tg/.

HOLD THE LINE

bump for great justice.
also, TITANS!

>>11780756

If it's good, time matters not a whit.

I've been saving a good number of these, but I've fallen behind.

Who has a complete 4 and 5?

>>11781294
You can find it all here: http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthread.php?t=171832

this thread

In truth, that was a lie. I possessed no way of reconfiguring the Titan’s complicated systems, nor the skill to repair the parts that had long fallen into disuse. I am not a techpriest. What I had was ample amounts of sorcery, psychic energy eager to be used and expended. It was this energy that I poured into the Warlord, flooding every circuit, every wire, every cable within its gargantuan frame.

The god-machine roared, shaking the underground cavern that was its domain and causing the stone ceiling to rain debris.

A flickering barrier materialized, coating the entirety of Trucido Rex with simmering shields of bright blue.

“VOID SHIELDS ONLINE,” the Titan boomed into my mind.

Hissing hydraulics whirred into motion, cycling explosive shells into battle cannons and powering up multi-lasers.

“DEFENSE BATTERIES ONLINE.”

The whining sound of recharging laser weapons was heard as the massive guns on the Warlord’s shoulders was brought to life.

“TURBO LASERS ONLINE.”

The screech of multiple barrels revolving sounded from the Titan’s left arm.

“GATLING BLASTER ONLINE.”

A wave of heat buffeted me, despite the layers of admantium separating me from the outside. It came from the war-machine’s right arm.

I thought I heard Trucido chuckle when he next spoke.

“VOLCANO CANNON ONLINE.”

THIS JUST GOT REAL

Fuck yeah, CoaWS.

>>11782127
OH FUCK HE'S GOT TECHNOLOGY

yeaaah bump

Wordle analysis of the usage of various words.

Bumpan'

>>11781042

Fuck yea, Titans!

I think OP is using his awesomeness to long-troll us.

Captcha: speaker forsbal
I think capthca wants the senate podium

>>11786991
If so. I will sit here and let myself be trolled.

>>11786991

Nah. Been out buying textbooks and whatnot. College shopping is a pain in the ass.

Armored joints snarled in unison as the Titan rose. Its massive shoulders drove into the cavern ceiling, grinding rock and stone into minute fragments of debris. Showers of granite rained down upon the bellowing god-machine, bouncing off its indomitable frame and piling in heaps by its splayed toes. Little by little, the cave’s natural barriers gave away, unable to defy the Warlord’s attempts to rise. With a roar that shook the heavens, Trucido Rex emerged from its underground tomb, splinters of rock exploding away as the war construct tore itself free.

A cloud of swirling dust obstructed the Titan from view. Perhaps it was this reason that the Dark Mechanicus and the Iron Warriors did not pay attention to the sudden eruption of stone not two kilometers away. Instead, their attentions were solely focused on their prize, the buried war-machines that lay under the planetary crust of Zera.

That would prove to be their undoing.

From the cloud of pulverized rock fragments, strode Trucido Rex, its war horns blaring.

From my vantage point within the god-machine’s head, I saw the Chaos forces milling around on the ground like ants. The Titan saw what I saw, and its voice reverberated within my skull once more.

“THE GREAT ENEMY.”

“Aye,” was all I could manage. The strain of having to power the god-machine’s locomotion and its weapons system was taxing my conscience, and I did not know how long I could keep it up.

“THEY ARE INSECTS. INSECTS THAT I MUST CRUSH.”

Trucido Rex laughed, a deep and metallic sound that boomed into the recesses of my mind. It swiveled its torso, until every cannon, every laser, every weapon was pointed in the direction of the foe.

“DIE,” it spat and then unleashed hell from its gun barrels.