"If only."

This writefaggotry comes from a random writefag. It was written after the writefag was inspired about a story of a Tragic Khornate. He named it, If Only.

"If Only."

This story begins in a time of paranoia, fear, and prejudice. For it is the 42nd millenium, and there is only war. It was the cold bleak years after the 13th Black Crusade; the days when every knew the Imperium could be humbled. Abaddon was pushing further and further into Imperial territory each time he launced his own damn crusade. How much further could they get next time? What if they did break our defenses? Can the Cadian Gate hold? These thoughts were on everyone's minds at the time. Yet one soul had forgotten the troubles of a uncertain future. For this very unfortunate, and exceptional mind had found a new reason to exist. His thoughts were filled, no cowed into thinking of nothing but a new pantheon of gods he could never imagine himself. Could there really be other gods than the Emperor? He was more than eager to find out. Strapped to his side on a silver chain was a single insidious, vile, poisionous book.

This black leather bound book carried a eight pointed emblem on the front. It seems so harmless to those who have no knowledge of Chaos; those few innocent souls. Yet it caused so much pain and despair for this poor man. The book itself was filled with forbidden lore, the likes of which was not meant to be seen by mere Guardsman's eyes. It was more than a book, it couldn't have been just a book for it did so much evil and caused so many terrible things. The man who had the misfortune of receiving this damned tome was nothing more than a regular Guardsman by the name of Lonam Reiter. Why did a normal, everyday Guardsmen obtain this book? For it was taboo to read such books in the Imperium.

Fate would think differently though for Lonam happened upon the book by complete accident. Far off from Cadia lies a world. A dead war torn wasteland for which nothing grows in. It's people are all dead, damned for their crimes. Lonam was attached to the 516th Regiment of Cadian Shock Troopers, Company 2, third platoon. He was ordered to lead third platoon into a shelled-to-warp city. And it is there he found this book. In the ruins of a fallen and disgraced church dedicated to the Dark gods; it is here he found this single, seemingly simple forbidden book. Near that rubble something took him. A desire to dig into the broken concrete. Why? For there was something there, something he just had to have.

After the campaign on the world was over, Lieutenant Lonam Reiter left the Cadian Shock Troopers on 002.M42. He returned home - to Cadia - so he could rejoin his family. These words keep ringing inside my head: if only, if only, if only. If only he did, everything differently. If only he hadn't picked up that book! If only he hadn't had listened to his inner feeling and ignored the desire to find the book. If only he hadn't returned home, if only. A man can spend his whole life in regret. With these two words: If only.

Still Lonam had no idea what he picked up on that blasted world. If only he knew the, thing he carried. What it truly was, what it was meant to do. Ignorance is bliss after all. So Lonam walked cheerfully to his old homestead. Totally unaware the darkness creeping in on him. A large house built entirely out of strong timber was before him. The wooden house towered three stories high and atop it was a flag saying, "Cadian, 132nd. Red Eagles." Though when he looked upon it he should have had memories of him running up and down the halls as a child. He should have had memories of his parents teaching him; of those cold winter mornings when he would talk to his Father as the sun rised. When bombs would explode in the distance, and their flashes would illuminate the night sky. No all he could think of was that book. Of how he could learn more about the Dark gods. Despicable, terrible, sad, pitiful, all these words and more. How disgusting was he now? How much of a wasted human being was he at this very moment? Why did he cloud his mind with such thoughts? Why not think of pleasant memories?

Lonam turned the brass door knob hesitantly. Suddenly gust of wind blew past him and slammed the door wide open. A long bang rang throughout the incredibly large, spacious house. Then a familiar voice spoke out towards the front door from a room not far away. "Who is there?" The voice asked. A smile formed on Lonam's face, and he answered, "It's me Mother! I've come home!" Lonam heard the clattering of footsteps rushing towards the doorway from the living room. Running up in front of Lonam was his Mother and his Father. His Father was a tall, burly man with a well groomed mustache. He held out his well aged hand to his son. Lonam did not hesitate for a second, and grasped his Father's hand gladly. They both tried to see who had the stronger grip, but Lonam won in the end. Then Lonam's Father asked, "What are you doing here? Your regiment doesn't give leave does it?" Lonam looked to ground and sighed audibly. He replied to his Father, "No, they don't give leave time. We need to talk actually."

Lonam tried his best to explain his reasoning for leaving the Guard but his parents would have none of it. His Father was disappointed, his Mother was concerned. After many hours of arguing between the two parents Lonam's Mother went up stairs. Lonam's Father forced him into a red cushioned chair in the living room. Lonam sat their, thinking about, that book. A fire crackled next to him; the sun was slowly descending behind him. Little beams of fading sunlight came out of a window. Next to him was a table, on it was a cup of warm recaff. This should have been a calming moment, if it wasn't for his Father yelling at him. "What do you mean!" He shouted in anger, "Resigned! Last thing I heard was you were about to be promoted! Our son the Captain has a lot better ring to it than our son the fuck up! You call yourself a Reiter! Have you really earned that name! My Father lost both arms and still he kept fighting! And he kept fighting till the day an Ork took his head!"

Lonam's mind drifted off to thoughts of something else where. He looked down at the hard wooden floor. He saw the cracks in it's surface. The tearing in the structure. It's age, how old it was. He was thinking about how it was slowly breaking apart; how all the planks in the floor would break apart given time. Second by second it was breaking apart. Just how long would it be till it was all broken? How much longer? A year? Two? Three? A thousand? It would just rot and tear and break and burn. It would burn so brightly, that was quicker than waiting for it to fall apart. How long till that wooden floor broke apart? His mind kept on thinking and thinking of just how long. How many years, just how many years till everything was dead and destroyed.

The sound of snapping fingers brought Lonam back. "You even listening!" Shouted his Father, so angry he was becoming red with rage now. Lonam said regretfully, "No, no sir I'm not." Lonam's Father reached out to grab Lonam by his collar. He lifted him up out of the chair. Staring his son in the face he said, "You don't have the privilege to call me sir. You don't have the honor, the respect deserving of calling me anything. You have failed to give me one reason why you left the Guard. I guess you just couldn't take it. I guess you just didn't have the balls to stay in the Guard." Lonam then thought of the most idiotic thing in history. He said to his Father with new vigor, "Dad dad, just listen. I found this book, it will explain everything!" If only he had said something different.

Lonam breathed a bit more freely after his Father let go of his shirt's collar. Lonam's Father was already judging what his son had said. He replied in a condescending tone, "Really now. What book is this. Show it to me, now." Lonam quickly reached around and pulled out a simple, black, leather, bound book. Wtih a little click he had taken it off it's silver chain, and he handed it to his Father. His father's eyes opened wide in terror when he looked upon the cover. That emblem he had seen a thousand times before. He flipped through the pages frantically; an expression of horror clear across his face. Daemon summonings rituals, how to worship the gods, the lesser beings of the warp, the names of famous traitors and heretics set up as paragons of excellence to follow. It was all in the book. Mr. Reiter was not a forgiving man, but he was not a slow man either. He came to a horrible conclusion. That his son was a traitor. No, he was a heretic.

He said to his son, "This, this is far worse than I could have conceived in my worst nightmares. I've seen books like these, I've seen them on pyres as we burned them. I've felled dozens of men who bore this sigil of Chaos. Barren and lifeless the land lied when they were through with it. A kingdom of lust, a field of blood, a region of plague. I've fought in them all. You sick waste of a man, you don't get to be called my son anymore. You aren't a Reiter, and doubt you ever were." Lonam's heart stopped for a brief second. How could his Father not have been enlightened by the book as he was? Why didn't he accept these wonderful facts about Chaos, that there are other gods than the Emperor.

Lonam's Father though, knew exactly what this book was and what to do with it. "Let us be done with this thing," he said. He looked at his fireplace. It couldn't have been closer. He threw the book into it nonchalantly. It began to slowly burn away into ash. The pages curled as it was consumed in flame. Lonam tried to grab it out of the flames, but his Father kept him away. "What are you doing!" Lonam's Father shouted, "Are you mad! Your hands will burn!" Lonam could only say, "I must have it! I need it, I need it!" His Father replied, "No you don't!" Lonam struck back against his Father. A hard fist punched him in his elderly face. Lonam's Father shouted in furious anger, "How dare you strike me!" Disgusted his son replied, "No, no no no you old fool! It was all I had, all I was! That book was my life! And you ruined it!" If only he hadn't said that.

Lonam's Father struck back at his rebellious son. One punch to face brought Lonam down. Blood leaked from his nose, the punch had almost broken it. His Father then spoke, "I'm going to call someone to take you away, and I don't really care where they take you." Finely Lonam snapped. Anger over took him, he lunged at his Father. His Father got one good, solid punch in before being barraged by hits from his son. For every punch that the elderly Reiter got in, Lonam hit him five more times. A flurry of jabs and hooks came from Lonam, faster than most men could probably move. His Father did not see his son anymore, he was gone. His eyes were empty, without a soul at all. He had been replaced with a monster now, that was clear. What rage was this? Such reckless hate? Where had it come from? In all the chapters that Lonam had read in that damned book there was one he had read several times. The chapter detailing the Blood god Khorne. Something had rooted itself in Lonam. Now it had grown into a thing made of pure hatred. Perhaps it was always there. And it only took Khorne to make it come to life.

Lonam's Father could not hold out from the relentless beating. His old age had weakened him. He fell to the ground, the back of his head hit the wooden floor hard. Before the elderly Mr. Reiter could even attempt to get back up, his son descended on him. Mercilessly Lonam pounded his fists into his own Father. Again, and again he kept going. Like some kind of beast, an animal made of pure anger. Now his knuckles were painted red with blood. His fists hurt after a while but he ignored the pain. The floor had a thin layer of crimson wash over it. His Father was dead. Beaten to death by his own son, what a terrible way to die.

Then Lonam heard something come down the stairs. He was done with his Father now. The old man was defeated yet there was still more prey. He lifted himself from his Father's body. Blood dripped off of his face and his hands. He had heard his Mother coming down into the room. Lonam wanted to surprise her. He picked up the cup of recaff and waited for her to come through the doorway. All he had to do was wait. She turned the corner, and gasped at the scene. Lonam jumped into the doorway. He stared her down with his soulless. This is where I shall end the story.

Oh if only you may say. If only he kept that dark book away from his mind, his heart and is soul. Perhaps this wouldn't have happened. Perhaps, but still, as I am the author of these events I can feel my inner daemons bursting forth. That desire to kill, to burn, and to maim. The bestial desire of death and blood. To smell blood on the battlefield again, the thought of it simply drives me mad. So while I still possess a skill with a pen I shall write this down, remember, no good can come from Chaos. I am Lonam Reiter, learn from me. Please.

Various pieces of writefaggotry by members of /tg/.