Editing Heretical Love (section)

=== Thread 2: EXTRA HERESY ===

''Commissars Log. Planet: Yagis V. Date: Unknown''

''The Sister Candice has proven to be a powerful foe indeed. It is likely her cockblocking skills are the most feared in the entire sector, and perhaps beyond. 
''The Sororitas and I explored the manafactorium I so skillfully landed that wretched craft on. Inside can only be described as Glorious. 
''An Imperial thong production plant, until this point I had only heard whispers and rumors of their existence, or read tidbits of information in tomes millennia old.
''The Sisters took the chance to change into some new undergarments, fresh off the line. Unfortunately I was apprehended in my Emperor-sanctioned quest to peek, and nearly lost my life to the hail of bolter and flamer fire that followed. Still, I did manage to catch a brief glimpse of perfection. Dat ass.
''Worse yet than being caught perhaps, Abbadon somehow obtained my personal communicator frequency. He has been spamming my textual box with death threats and pictures of… Terrible, terrible things of the most damaging kind. He is kind of a dick.
''My devoted follower Lycheria beckons for me. Commissar out.''

“Hey Max, we are going to head to our personal ship. The Sisters were debating on whether or not to bring you along, and decided not to after your little… Ah… Stunt.”
Lycheria looks disappointed, though not at you.
“So that’s it, then?” You ask, not thrilled about being left behind. Nor about being separated from the crazy but cute bolter bitch.
“For now, but I know the Emperor will bring us back together again. Here, have my personal channel, you can call or message me any time.”
She slips a piece of paper into your pocket before looking around slyly. Seeing no one watching, she plants another kiss before turning to follower her Sisters.
You watch sadly as she walks away, until she turns back one last time to shout at you with a smile.
“If you don’t call me, I’LL BURN YOU ALIVE!”
Well, time to figure out what to do.

Well with your party disbanded leaving you with but a single mana potion, you don’t really know what to do.
Pretty much every xeno here would just as soon kill than perhaps eat you before you could even get a word in edgewise.
You've never met an Eldar before, not that you really make a habit of meeting xenos for smalltalk, what with it being heresy and all.
Still, if you had to pick, the Eldar seem perhaps the least likely to disembowel you for either fun or sacrifice to an ancient god. At least you think so, you admit you skimmed (see tldr) the Eldar chapters of your training manual.

With (though perhaps misplaced) optimism, you set out in search of those tall spindly xenos. Although thinking back, you swear the Farseer you saw stood at least a foot and a half shorter than the other Eldar around her.
The journey is long and arduous on foot, wind threatens to take the hat right off your head. You can’t let that happen. Compounding the suck is the fact that you literally have nothing to eat and haven’t eaten anything since the last ration you had with your guardbros.
Your stomach howls at you with the fury of the warp and the ‘nid swarm rolled into one. You scan everywhere, looking for something, ANYTHING to devour.
Your heart sinks as you abandon all hope, Vagis V must be devoid of food.
That is, until, you catch the scent of something that smells absolutely, decadently, delicious.
Ravenous now, you pick up your pace as you follow your nose. A strangely colored bird with a massive beak darts around overhead.
The sight of a fire a hundred yards away stops you dead in your tracks. You know better than to just rush in, you don’t have many friends left on this planet.
Stalking now, you draw ever closer until you take cover behind a small pile of rock and peek out.
Sitting in the clearing, roasting some kind of small animal carcass on the fire, is the Farseer you saw yesterday.

You remain silent as you sit and watch. The Farseer doesn’t seem to notice you as she checks on her food.
A roasting animal shouldn’t smell this good. It isn’t just your hunger either, something is up. Heresy, it must be heresy. Or psychers, fuck you don’t know.
She must think her food is ready, because she takes the spit off of the fire to let the meat cool. Slowly she looks around and you hide to avoid her gaze.
Fairly certain she is safe, the Farseer lifts off her helmet and shakes out her hair. Beautiful, silky red hair. It’s long, long enough to reach down to her ass, and it looks thick even from here.
She’s cute. You didn’t know Eldar could be cute. Though really, you didn’t know what Eldar looked like without their helmets on. You had always assumed terrible soulless eyes and a gaping maw filled with teeth and two ever-moving mandibles.
The Farseer cautiously takes a bite of the roast and her face lights up. It must taste good. By the Emprah, you want some of that food…
You watch as she rips off chunk after chunk with her teeth. Not a very ladylike way to eat, but you would look like a barbarian in comparison at the moment.
Instantly and suddenly her eyes snap to you, as if she just knew you were there. With a startled cry she drops her meal and grabs her spear, bringing it to bear right at you.
Before you can shout out anything, the rocks in front of you explode away, knocking you backwards. The Farseer runs at you, clearly intent on running you through.
You manage to dodge just in time, but she’s coming around for another go.
It doesn’t seem she has any intention of talking with you.

You draw your sword and turn to face her, swinging your weapon around in skillful arcs. She pauses at the sight, you must have dazzled her with your awesomeness.
“NOPE, fuck this.” You yell as you swing the sword down like a golf club and slash up a blast of sand. It hits her in the eyes and she curses, at least you think so.
You break into a dead run, pumping furiously. Looking back, you see she is hot on your tail, despite clawing at her eyes.
Now you should be able to outrun someone shorter than you. 
After all, being in the guard you are In pretty damn good shape. 
Why then, is she gaining on you?
“Fucking sorcery!” You yell as a flying kick catches you in the back, knocking you face-first into the sand.
You knew you should have tried to fight, as you feel the tip of the spear press into your back. It’s all over now…
But a quiet rumble in the distance causes you both to pause and look up. Whatever it is, its getting closer, and fast.
Through the haze you manage to make out that it’s a lone figure on a motorcycle.
And his head is on fire.

Wait… Is that fucking Doomrider?
You remember the myths and stories as a lad growing up. Doomrider, bane of man, devourer of cocaine.
This is probably not a safe place to be, what laying right in his path and all. Fuck it, you will take your chances with the Farseer.
You roll to your left, out from under the spear, and jump to your feet. You grab the Eldar’s hand and pull her.
“Run, bitch, RUN!!!” You shout as you break into a dead sprint, pushing yourself as hard as you can.
She doesn’t seem to understand why or to where she is running, but she is smart enough to not question you as she follows.
You are too busy looking back at the lord of drugs to notice you are running straight at a narrow chasm. You catch it out of the corner of your eye. It’s a split second decision but you don’t have much choice, going to have to jump for it.

YES!

Somehow, miraculously, you clear the chasm. When you looked down mid-jump you notice Abbadon screaming up at you furiously, as a horde of his followers all text away furiously, still filling your inbox. 
Good thing you made it.
“Hah, we did it!” You turn excitedly to the Farseer.
She looks back at you, a twinge of excitement and relief on her face. Strands of long red hair blow faintly in the wind, and you finally get a good look at her in the full outline of the blue sky.
…Just in time to see Doomrider pop a wheelie and clear the jump with ease.
“I’M GOING TO GRIND YOU UP AND SNORT YOUR BONES IMPERRIAAALLLLLL!!!” You hear him yell madly.
“God damn it, today is just not my day!” You start to run again.
The Farseer doesn’t hear you as she stops to turn around, raising her spear in defiance at the Harbinger of Heroin.
This girl is either stupid, crazy, or confident. Maybe all three, you can’t be sure. Either way, you’ve got a decision to make.

“I am getting too old for this constant litany of BULLSHIT!” You howl furiously as you snatch the Farseer’s spear from her hand and dash over to a nearby Ork Warbike.
Surprisingly the bike starts with no effort whatsoever and in fact everything is incredibly easy about it, as if it wants you to ride. 
Annoying; considering how much bullshit an Imperium vehicle puts you through, that this Ork monstrosity of engine, chrome, and flame decals give you no trouble.
You turn to face Doomrider, and rev your engine as high and as loud as you can. Doomrider turns his bike sideways and skids to a stop, a hundred yards away or so.
With little struggle he pulls a tree up out of the dirt and bites one end, gnawing and gnashing at it until it forms a nasty point.
Both of you sit there, revving your engines, eying each other.
“I AM A GOLDEN GOD!!!” He finally screams, beginning his charge.
You dump your own clutch and twist as hard as you can, the Ork bike clunking to action as it takes off.
The two of you grow ever closer, each spear pointed at the other. This could end up alright, or very, very badly. You want to close your eyes and have that Eldar girl hold you tight, maybe grab some afternoon delight.
But there isn’t time, you are seconds away from impact.

Your spear slams itself directly into Doomrider’s chest, impaling him as it knocks him off of his bike, which crashes into some rocks and sails end over end.
His own spear hit the front of your bikes handlebars and shattered. Say what you will about the Orks, when they do make something, they make it goddamn sturdy.
You quickly slow to a stop as Doomrider falls to the ground, gasping and feeling at the spear now lodged in him. It looks fatal, but you know better by now. He seems currently disabled at least.
You approach him, laspistol drawn, as he groans and looks up at you. He reaches out to you with one hand as if begging.
“IF YOU MUST KILL ME, AT LEAST LET ME DIE WITH THE TASTE OF ACID IN MY MOUTH AND THE SMELL OF SWEET SNOW IN MY NOSE!”
Despite him being one of the more terrifying things you’ve ever encountered, this gives you pause.
You would be a right bastard if you denied him his last request…

A bag on his bike contains… well… a plethora of drugs. If there was a market, nay, a superwalmart for drugs, it would be this guy’s satchel. You aren’t even sure of most of the shit you’re looking at.
You grab out what you think are some acid tabs and a bag out of six dozen or so of different white powders. There is no way to tell which one is blow, and you really doubt Doomrider cares much.
You lean down and hand him the drugs, which he eagerly consumes.
Now comes time for the dirty deed…

Wait, Doomrider is slowly fading out, growing more and more transparent by the second.
“HAHAHAHAHA!” He bellows with laughter as he stands up, the spear falling from his no longer physical chest.
“Son of a fucking bitch!” You fire your laspistol anyways, but the shot sails right through him and not in a good way.
“YOU FIGHT WELL AND WELL FOR A MORTAL, I SHALL SINGS SONGS OF THIS DAY WHILE I INDULGE MYSELF!” He is almost entirely transparent now, his head is really the only thing you can still make out.
“IN YOUR HOUR OF PLIGHT YOU MAY DO WELL TO CALL ON ME, HUMAN, FOR I EAGERLY AWAIT OUR NEXT MEETING! UNTIL THEN, MAY YOUR LIFE BE FULL OF PLEASURE!” With this, he is entirely gone.
You remember now, part of the fables you were read as a boy. Doomrider is notorious for disappearing, entirely at random as it were…
This leaves you alone with the Farseer, who is approaching you, eyes fixed dead on your face.
Aww yeah, you impressed this bitch. You are a fucking pimp of the Imperium after all.
Her face is nearly at yours, though you would have to lean down to meet it, so you do.
And she decks you squared in the jaw.

“You idiot mon-keigh! What in the name of Uthwe would I have done without my spear! Did you ever stop to think maybe a fucking FARSEER might be, oh, I don’t know, A FUCKING SPECIALIST AT FIGHTING CHAOS DAEMONS!!!” She mad.
“But… But I…” You stammer, surprised at the blow.
“No, you acted like a fool!” She shouts, crossing her arms and turning her back to you.
“…Still, for a guardsman you did fare quite well against such a foe…”
You rub your jaw, it wasn’t a hard blow, just caught you off guard is all.
Silence fills the air.
Until it is almost immediately disturbed by a tremendous growl from your gut.
“Ugh…” You groan, rubbing your stomach.
Suddenly a hand is thrust into your face, holding what looks like a small biscuit thing.
“Huh?” You ask, looking up at her.
The Farseer is looking away, refusing to meet your eyes. She is blushing furiously.
“I made this earlier, you can have it.
It… It’s not like I want you to eat it, or anything.” She adds quickly.
“All right then, I’ll try it…” You accept the food from her, not wanting to seem over-eager.
Your stomach gives you up when it groans furiously that you have dared take so long to sate it when you are staring fucking food in the face.
You take a small bite, and your tongue is alive…
With FLAVOR.
A biscuit shouldn’t taste this good. Cannot possibly taste this good. But it isn’t just your stomach talking, the biscuit is fucking delicious.
“W… Well?” The Farseer asks, glancing back and forth at you.
You lick your fingers, having polished off the morsel already.
“It was really good, you can cook for me anytime.”
Her face lights up and she beams, eyes wide with delight.
“Really?”
Then she quickly catches herself and looks away again, giving you the cold shoulder.
“I didn’t make it for you or anything, quit acting so grateful you mon-keigh.”
"Even if you didn't make it for me, I'm still glad you let me have it. Got any more?"
The Eldar girl shrugs.

"Not on me, no. But if I had the ingredients I could make more."
Your stomach growls again, reminding you that one little snack isn't going to do it. Fuck you stomach, you and dick both bossing around poor old brain, he never did anything to you jerks.
"Well if your THAT hungry we could maybe catch some fish to cook. From orbital data the oceans here are stock full of fish, and the water is close by." She tsks at you and turns away.
"If it even smells like anything you have cooked for me before, I'm all in."
So with that said, you two set off for the ocean.
"So did you bring a swimsuit?" You ask, trying to start up some conversation.
"Even if I did, why would I wear it for you, pervert?" She fumes.
"Whoa turn the hate off of eleven for a minute. I'm sweaty as Horus in a tracksuit, so I figured I would take a swim."
"Hmph, my undersuit would work fine, but I'm not ditching my armor so you can eye rape me."
Damn this girl is cold...

You feel your luck increase ever so slightly...
Huh.
You finally get to the beach, and it is a damn pretty one. White sands, blue water, cute girl still glaring at you. Ahh... Bliss.
You strip down to your standard issue guard skivvies and run excitedly down to the water. You busy yourself splashing and scrubbing, lost in the paradise of warm tropical water.
You lean back and stretch, taking it all in, when you hear a splash behind you.
"Don't get me wrong, I just decided I needed to cool off!"
By the Emprah...
A white bikini?

Hot giggidy son, those are some psychic xeno tits.
They aren’t big, but they aren’t small, maybe somewhere around a c-cup? You can’t exactly think straight right now. What with the white clashing awesomely with her flowing red hair and vibrant, and fiercely intelligent turquoise eyes.
“Yo, stupid mon-keigh, quit titfucking me with your eyes and get to fishing already.” She says flatly as she cracks you over the head with a rod. 
Where the hell did she even get that from? Eldar trickery. But imagining titfucking those glorious xeno-baits, yeah you could do it, you WANT to do it. She thwaps you with the rod again.
Despite your best effort to actually concentrate on fishing, sitting on the beach alongside her, you just can’t. You have a slight bit of Eldar ass cleavage drawing your eyes away from the rod, the sight is mesmerizing. You could lose yourself in it.
There is a sudden tug on your line.

There is a tremendous tug as line starts screaming out of the bail, despite having the drag notched up a bit because you are a fishing noob. The rod is bent single, and you have your feet buried in the sand in an attempt to remain on the beach.
A tremendous explosion erupts from the surface some two hundred yards out. Water soars a thousand feet into the sky from the sheer force of the breach.

Only it isn’t an explosion.

And it isn’t a fish.

Ra’alman, the epic sea beast of Yagis V lore, is hooked on your rubber worm bait.
More serpent than anything else, it’s glowing vorpal red eyes and razor sharp ten foot long teeth are the most terrifying things you’ve ever witnessed. Men have been lost to madness for seeing this creature.
Only a new world, universe, of terror is awakened from its dark slumber as the creature throws it’s head in a blood-draining, suicide-inducing scream.
You grip the rod as tight as you can as you struggle with all your might against the beast.

Do you cut the line and remain on the relative safety of the beach?

Or do you show this Farseer what a real fisherman can do?

“I AM POSEIDON, MASTER OF THE SEAS, AND I SHALL CLAIM YOU AS MY MEAL!”
A sharp tug of the line and you are thrown forward into the seas, which have grown rough and dark, black ominous clouds now looming overhead.
With incredible speed you are dragged down, down, down, into the inky black.
Slowly the dragging stops, and you are left alone in the pitch darkness. You can’t see your own hand in front of your face, or even tell which way the surface is.
You look down and notice two burning, hateful red eyes staring back at you from the nothingness below.
With a quick movement you draw out the small bait knife the Eldar girl gave you along with the rod.
“Time to dance, fishfag.”
But it just comes out as a bunch of bubbles.
With astounding speed the beast rushes for you, and you can feel the sucking motion through the water as the giant opens its god-devouring maw.
You draw your arm back, preparing to strike.

A blinding light illuminates the seas around you, emanating from an anglerfish-like protrusion from the beast’s head.
In the sudden blue light you can see now what you are really up against.
Those teeth are jagged and barbed, ending in points sharper than the most finely honed templar blade. Each again, several feet longer than you are, and there are thousands of them, set in rows, going as deep into the monster’s horrific bowels.
The legends call this the horror-fish. It has been known to devour ships out of the sky.
And if the legends hold true, this beast also is responsible for consuming alive every god that once existed on this fowl planet.
But those are just legends.
Right?

You try to swim upwards as fast as you can, the jaws only yards away now. Your lungs are burning for air, which you are nowhere near.
Ra’alman misses you by a hair, its terrible bony body scraping against your foot, sending a jolt of pain through your whole body.
With no time to think you do the only thing you can come up with, and drive your pitiful knife as hard as you can into the beast’s back. It sinks in.
With all of the creature’s speed you are thrown forward along with it, as the god-eater barrels toward the surface.
It screams again, it’s agonizing song even more soul-devastating underwater.
You lose all hope as your lungs finally give out and you suck in seawater…

Until with the force of a thousand suns, the monster breaches the surface yet again. You are soaring upwards, dozens, hundreds, thousands of feet above the seas below.
“Oh FUUUUUUU….” You manage to yell between coughs of belching up salt water, as the peak of the climb is reached, and the fall begins.
You plummet, ever and ever faster toward the now frigid waters below, which chop and crash as though they too wish to feast on your pitiful human flesh.
At the last second before impact, you ditch the knife and jump for it, crashing down into the water.
You are a pretty good swimmer, but you are a hundred meters from the shore, where the Farseer girl is screaming, you think.
Looking back, you see the hungry jaws of Ra’alman closing fast, dead set on having you for a snack.
“NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE!!!!!” You freestyle as hard and as fast as you can, screaming litanies of protection and struggling against the weak confines of your own frail and now beaten body.
You are so close now…

By the Emprah and those white bikini xeno titties, you are not dying here today. Your strength doubles and you make the final push to the land, running up the beach as fast as you can.
Ra’alman’s momentum carries it up the sand after you, but friction gets the better of it and it is slowed to a halt.
You are mere inches away from its putrid hole, which gnashes and bites at you, now just barely out of reach.
With a frustrated scream, the beast starts to retreat.
But not before coughing and hitting you in the face with a 5lb fish that is still flopping away madly.
“Catch anything?” The Farseer asks coyly.

“Fuck you and every spindly space elf that looks like you.” You splutter as you cough up yet more seawater.
“No really, that big speech and all? I didn’t realize it was directed at this anusfish.” She laughs, shaking the flailing fish in your face, taunting you.
“Yeah well you… Wait did you just call it an anusfish?”
Her grin is ear to ear, leading you on.
“Why yes, Commissar, I did.”
“And why, exactly?”
“Because they taste like ass, according to all planetary data logs.” She can barely contain her laughter at this point.
You stand up and brush off as much sand as you can, trying to regain some air of dignity.
“I’ll have you know, Eldar, that there are some asses I ENJOY the taste of, and if you don’t believe me, bend over and allow me to demonstrate.”

She pulls back a bit, losing the smile.
“I’ll pass on that today, thanks. Though I will cook your anusfish if you so desire, I myself caught this.”
She holds up a four foot long flatfish, it looks like some kind of bottomfeeder.
“Supposed to be the best delicacy of the sea on the whole of Yagis V.” She brags.

“Yeah well, I usually enjoy ass for dessert, not the main course…” You give in as you toss your fish back into the water.
You turn back to her slowly.
“Although you could still make me some dessert later, perhaps?”
Another dive knife goes sailing past your left ear, clipping it ever so slightly, just enough to draw a drop of blood.
“Don’t even think about it worm. The next time you do, I won’t miss.”
Dayum shame, you would eat that ass. You would eat it and be damn proud of the fact.
“Hmph, well since you admit I caught the better fish, I’ll treat you to a good meal.”
She stops suddenly.

“But just for tonight, mon-keigh. Don’t expect me to grace you with my divine presence like this again.”
You don’t say anything as you lay back on the warm sand and watch her work her magic.
That is, until she kicks sand in your face and smacks you with her fishing rod until you get up to go gather fire wood so she can cook.
After collecting everything you can that she needs, you again lay back down to take in the view.
And by the view, you mean that bent over ass shot, as she tends to the fish now filling the nearby area with its unfathomable sweet aroma.
It has been a loooooonggg time since you’ve had anything that could constitute a home cooked meal. The barracks serves high-nutrient slop, and the carry rations are bland and fairly tasteless. You are going to enjoy this, no matter how damaged your pride may be.

Her butt shakes around as she darts this way and that, adding spices and making adjustments with some kind of knowledge likely garnered through thousands of years of perfection and study.
“I can literally FEEL your eyes on my ass, stop that if you want any food!” She snaps at you.
Bah, it’s not like you want dat ass, or anything… baka…
Getting up to stretch out your legs, you really wish you had a beer, it has been months since you’ve even beheld the beauty that is a cold bottle of “Librarian’s Imperial Pale Ale.”

The thought of a beer even fades quickly when you inhale, you can almost taste that roasting fish, your stomach is locked in a civil war on itself.
In addition to the fish; the Farseer also gathered up some assorted roots, which, though glowing a disheartening orange, she assured you were edible.
“Hey, I never did get your name…” You inquire, looking back at the still bent-over Eldar.
“Hah, as if you are deserving enough to be blessed by its utterance.” She retorts.
“I’m Max, Max Decarus.” You reply, ignoring her stinging comments.
“I’m Eshwe Ulthran. My friends call me Esh.”
Her face goes red.
“N-Not that you can call me that, mon-keigh!”
You grin.

“Alright Eshwe.”
“You ingrate, I told you only my friends… Wait did you just use my actual name?” She asks, fishing rod poised to strike.
“Well yeah, I mean, it isn’t like we are friends are we?” You can barely contain your trollface.
She looks like she’s pouting a bit though trying her best to conceal it.
“Anyways, Eshwe, I’m going to find us someplace to crash, why don’t you rest by the fire and call me when the food is ready?”
You turn around and begin to stroll off.
Her hand snatches out and grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-step.
You turn around slowly.
She isn’t looking at you, her eyes are lowered and you can’t see them under her hair. Her cheeks are burning red.
“…You… You can call me Esh… Idiot mon-keigh…”