Fragmented Dreams - Revision history

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2023-06-21T13:42:20Z

12 revisions imported

← Older revision	Revision as of 13:42, 21 June 2023
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imported>Administrator: 1 revision imported

2023-06-19T01:46:21Z

1 revision imported

← Older revision	Revision as of 01:46, 19 June 2023
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96.225.94.45 at 20:58, 14 October 2015

2015-10-14T20:58:45Z

50.36.51.3 at 01:27, 19 April 2011

2011-04-19T01:27:15Z

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 :Laying on his side now, Nyr could partially see the carnage around him. Some part of his mind realized that a hole must have been punctured through his helmet, but such facts seemed so distant now. He saw the heavy armored boot of one of the Gue'la walkers land silenty, barely disturbing the valley floor. Such an impossibility seemed to fit perfectly in the dream world Nyr found himself in. The deep purple machine strode across the killing ground, pivoting from side to side to ensure that the entire patrol had been accounted for. Another walker joined it, and together they moved off into the forest to vanish like the ghosts Nyr knew them to be. As his vision faded, he realized he could hear the birds in the treetops again.
 ----
 [[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]

195.132.200.66 at 19:38, 11 April 2011

2011-04-11T19:38:29Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 19:38, 11 April 2011
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	:Non-sleepless Nightmares visit the Tower to pay homage to these tragic heroes, but it is not a pleasant experience. To walk within the Tower is to feel a thousand stone eyes upon you, a spine-chilling herald of what await all Nightmares.		:Non-sleepless Nightmares visit the Tower to pay homage to these tragic heroes, but it is not a pleasant experience. To walk within the Tower is to feel a thousand stone eyes upon you, a spine-chilling herald of what await all Nightmares.
			----
			:Death rained down on all. Shas'La Nyr saw his commanding officer torn apart by the thousands of strikes which fell upon them. His squadmates were helpless as the cover they sought disintegrated under the assault cannon fire. There was nowhere to hide, and their combat armor was like paper in the face of the onslaught. Nyr felt the rounds hit him, penetrating through his flesh and out the other side to bury themselves deep in the dirt. He could do nothing but sink to the ground as his blood ran down his armor to pool under him.

			:Yet as he laid there dying he could think of nothing but the sheer surreal quality of the scene around him. In all the carnage, there was no sound. There had been no warning, no telltale whining of the heavy cannons spinning up. Even as they had been torn apart the only sound to be heard was the whistle of flying rounds, cut off in sick thumps as they found their targets. The other fire warriors had not cried out. Nyr mused idly that perhaps most of them had been dead before they could have thought to.

			:Laying on his side now, Nyr could partially see the carnage around him. Some part of his mind realized that a hole must have been punctured through his helmet, but such facts seemed so distant now. He saw the heavy armored boot of one of the Gue'la walkers land silenty, barely disturbing the valley floor. Such an impossibility seemed to fit perfectly in the dream world Nyr found himself in. The deep purple machine strode across the killing ground, pivoting from side to side to ensure that the entire patrol had been accounted for. Another walker joined it, and together they moved off into the forest to vanish like the ghosts Nyr knew them to be. As his vision faded, he realized he could hear the birds in the treetops again.
	----		----
	[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]		[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]

195.132.200.66 at 13:46, 11 April 2011

2011-04-11T13:46:36Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 13:46, 11 April 2011
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	:-Master of the Forge, Valter Fervesco		:-Master of the Forge, Valter Fervesco
			----
			:The Tower of Mercy - A looming spire within Betten-Burgen, the Tower of Mercy is very different from the other architecture of the Chapter Keep. Every surface and decoration is crafted with the single-minded passion of obsession, each surface diverting into fractal patterns of staggering complexity. To walk this tower is to walk a disturbing graveyard, for all around there are shockingly lifelike stone carvings of Emperor's Nightmares. These are the Sleepless who have died, practically given new life in stone by their fellows. Most realistic in every statue is the face, the haunted, tortured look and the maddened eyes carved to a level only the deepest empathy could draw out.

			:Non-sleepless Nightmares visit the Tower to pay homage to these tragic heroes, but it is not a pleasant experience. To walk within the Tower is to feel a thousand stone eyes upon you, a spine-chilling herald of what await all Nightmares.
	----		----
	[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]		[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]

75.187.47.124 at 07:04, 10 April 2011

2011-04-10T07:04:46Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 07:04, 10 April 2011
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	:They all think I'd be a monster. I am no fool. Committed, yes. Driven, yes. But no fool. If the day comes--when the day comes, if I am not swift enough--you have the codes. With the lockout, I can no longer change them even if I wished to.		:They all think I'd be a monster. I am no fool. Committed, yes. Driven, yes. But no fool. If the day comes--when the day comes, if I am not swift enough--you have the codes. With the lockout, I can no longer change them even if I wished to.

	-Master of the Forge, Valter Fervesco		:-Master of the Forge, Valter Fervesco
	----		----
	[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]		[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]

75.187.47.124 at 07:03, 10 April 2011

2011-04-10T07:03:31Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 07:03, 10 April 2011
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	:Hadrianus wondered as he watched. It was these Sleepless Techmarines that where the great secret to the Chapter’s fortune. These were the master crafters.		:Hadrianus wondered as he watched. It was these Sleepless Techmarines that where the great secret to the Chapter’s fortune. These were the master crafters.
			----
			:They all think I'd be a monster. I am no fool. Committed, yes. Driven, yes. But no fool. If the day comes--when the day comes, if I am not swift enough--you have the codes. With the lockout, I can no longer change them even if I wished to.

			-Master of the Forge, Valter Fervesco
			----
	[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]		[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]

173.230.104.252 at 01:00, 8 April 2011

2011-04-08T01:00:58Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 01:00, 8 April 2011
Line 80:		Line 80:
	:The Space Marine turned and nodded his thanks to the Magos, picking his boltgun up from the table beside the reinforced cot.		:The Space Marine turned and nodded his thanks to the Magos, picking his boltgun up from the table beside the reinforced cot.
	:"I did some research."		:"I did some research."
			----
			:Techmarine Hadrianus had never liked his work. Praise the Omnissiah, yes, but the Golems. He glanced toward Those That Eternally Did His Will and shivered. They were crouched low, Mechadendrites buzzing. One was close enough that he could hear the chanting, no the droning of a human machine – pitch perfect repetition of the Liturgy of Crafting over and over.

			:These were once brothers that were now focused on a single task to the exclusion of all others. These were the Sleepless the Omnissiah. Hadrianus watched them, his work forgotten for now. They were amazing and awful at the same time. Did the mechadendrites awaken and control a body? Did they truly exist as one step from utter madness, focused so intently on the perfection of the minute they staved off true Sleeplessness?

			:Hadrianus wondered as he watched. It was these Sleepless Techmarines that where the great secret to the Chapter’s fortune. These were the master crafters.
	[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]		[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]

173.230.104.252: Adding new short fluff

2011-04-08T00:42:32Z

Adding new short fluff

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:42, 8 April 2011
Line 73:		Line 73:
	:-An Imperial Record of the Ork Waaagh Gitchop		:-An Imperial Record of the Ork Waaagh Gitchop
	----		----
			:Inquisitor Armoring frowned and tapped his dataslate. He requested a Space Marine, and he was given...this? His Magos was tending to (but mostly poking at) a gently snoring suit of 'corvus' power armour, painted in the yellow and purple. He received this marine five days ago, and he hadn't even...woken up? yet. He wasn't sure that this was even a real space marine. Some trick by his ri-
			:"Greetings, Inquisitor Armoring. Magos Risze."
			:The Inquisitor and the Magos jumped around to look at the space marine standing in the corner.
			:"I have not given you my name," The Inquisitor stated. The Magos hadn't either, but one thing at a time...
			:"The dataslate you are holding contains the shipping records to and from the planet Carthaginus III. The ring on your left middle finger is most likely a digital laser; only the most wealthy or an Inquisitor can afford such...extravagance." The marine's tone was clipped and short, amplified by the vox-speaker. There was silence for one, two, three seconds before the Inquisitor spoke up again. :"...and my name? And his name?" He waved to the Magos. How could one space marine learn so much in...the thirty seconds he has been conscious? He knew of the legendary abilities of the Space Marines, but this was insane.
			:The Space Marine turned and nodded his thanks to the Magos, picking his boltgun up from the table beside the reinforced cot.
			:"I did some research."
	[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]		[[Category:Emperor's Nightmare]]

← Older revision		Revision as of 20:58, 14 October 2015
Line 36:		Line 36:
	:"Sergeant Cooper, is that boulder closer to our fortifications than it was when I went into my tent?"		:"Sergeant Cooper, is that boulder closer to our fortifications than it was when I went into my tent?"

	:"No captain, it remains just in front of the treeline"		:"No captain, it remains just in front of the treeline."

	:The two men turn away from the bleak landscape to discuss logistics for a moment, "No, no I'm sure it's closer. Look now! Were not those bushes in front of it not a moment ago?"		:The two men turn away from the bleak landscape to discuss logistics for a moment, "No, no I'm sure it's closer. Look now! Were not those bushes in front of it not a moment ago?"
Line 73:		Line 73:
	:-An Imperial Record of the Ork Waaagh Gitchop		:-An Imperial Record of the Ork Waaagh Gitchop
	----		----
	:Inquisitor Armoring frowned and tapped his dataslate. He requested a Space Marine, and he was given...this? His Magos was tending to (but mostly poking at) a gently snoring suit of '~~corvus~~' power armour, painted in the yellow and purple. He received this marine five days ago, and he hadn't even...woken up? yet. He wasn't sure that this was even a real space marine. Some trick by his ri-		:Inquisitor Armoring frowned and tapped his dataslate. He requested a Space Marine, and he was given...this? His Magos was tending to (but mostly poking at) a gently snoring suit of 'Corvus' power armour, painted in the yellow and purple. He received this marine five days ago, and he hadn't even...woken up? yet. He wasn't sure that this was even a real space marine. Some trick by his ri-
	:"Greetings, Inquisitor Armoring. Magos Risze."		:"Greetings, Inquisitor Armoring. Magos Risze."
	:The Inquisitor and the Magos jumped around to look at the space marine standing in the corner.		:The Inquisitor and the Magos jumped around to look at the space marine standing in the corner.
Line 81:		Line 81:
	:"I did some research."		:"I did some research."
	----		----
	:Techmarine Hadrianus had never liked his work. Praise the Omnissiah, yes, but the Golems. He glanced toward Those That Eternally Did His Will and shivered. They were crouched low, ~~Mechadendrites~~ buzzing. One was close enough that he could hear the chanting, no the droning of a human machine – pitch perfect repetition of the Liturgy of Crafting over and over.		:Techmarine Hadrianus had never liked his work. Praise the Omnissiah, yes, but the Golems. He glanced toward Those That Eternally Did His Will and shivered. They were crouched low, mechadendrites buzzing. One was close enough that he could hear the chanting, no the droning of a human machine – pitch perfect repetition of the Liturgy of Crafting over and over.

	:These were once brothers that were now focused on a single task to the exclusion of all others. These were the Sleepless the Omnissiah. Hadrianus watched them, his work forgotten for now. They were amazing and awful at the same time. Did the mechadendrites awaken and control a body? Did they truly exist as one step from utter madness, focused so intently on the perfection of the minute they staved off true Sleeplessness?		:These were once brothers that were now focused on a single task to the exclusion of all others. These were the Sleepless the Omnissiah. Hadrianus watched them, his work forgotten for now. They were amazing and awful at the same time. Did the mechadendrites awaken and control a body? Did they truly exist as one step from utter madness, focused so intently on the perfection of the minute they staved off true Sleeplessness?
Line 99:		Line 99:
	:Yet as he laid there dying he could think of nothing but the sheer surreal quality of the scene around him. In all the carnage, there was no sound. There had been no warning, no telltale whining of the heavy cannons spinning up. Even as they had been torn apart the only sound to be heard was the whistle of flying rounds, cut off in sick thumps as they found their targets. The other fire warriors had not cried out. Nyr mused idly that perhaps most of them had been dead before they could have thought to.		:Yet as he laid there dying he could think of nothing but the sheer surreal quality of the scene around him. In all the carnage, there was no sound. There had been no warning, no telltale whining of the heavy cannons spinning up. Even as they had been torn apart the only sound to be heard was the whistle of flying rounds, cut off in sick thumps as they found their targets. The other fire warriors had not cried out. Nyr mused idly that perhaps most of them had been dead before they could have thought to.

	:Laying on his side now, Nyr could partially see the carnage around him. Some part of his mind realized that a hole must have been punctured through his helmet, but such facts seemed so distant now. He saw the heavy armored boot of one of the Gue'la walkers land ~~silenty~~, barely disturbing the valley floor. Such an impossibility seemed to fit perfectly in the dream world Nyr found himself in. The deep purple machine strode across the killing ground, pivoting from side to side to ensure that the entire patrol had been accounted for. Another walker joined it, and together they moved off into the forest to vanish like the ghosts Nyr knew them to be. As his vision faded, he realized he could hear the birds in the treetops again.		:Laying on his side now, Nyr could partially see the carnage around him. Some part of his mind realized that a hole must have been punctured through his helmet, but such facts seemed so distant now. He saw the heavy armored boot of one of the Gue'la walkers land silently, barely disturbing the valley floor. Such an impossibility seemed to fit perfectly in the dream world Nyr found himself in. The deep purple machine strode across the killing ground, pivoting from side to side to ensure that the entire patrol had been accounted for. Another walker joined it, and together they moved off into the forest to vanish like the ghosts Nyr knew them to be. As his vision faded, he realized he could hear the birds in the treetops again.
	----		----
	:It was an old train. Their fathers had worked on it, and their fathers before them. Some two hundred and eighty seven years all told. Even the ageless coal-servitors had been replaced more often than the train’s conductors. Tobias was proud of this fact. He and his family clan were very good at their job. The grizzled old man surveyed the ancient machine once more, pacing back to the engine with trepidation and running a gnarled hand across the habitation car as he passed it. This was it, he surmised. Their last chance.		:It was an old train. Their fathers had worked on it, and their fathers before them. Some two hundred and eighty seven years all told. Even the ageless coal-servitors had been replaced more often than the train’s conductors. Tobias was proud of this fact. He and his family clan were very good at their job. The grizzled old man surveyed the ancient machine once more, pacing back to the engine with trepidation and running a gnarled hand across the habitation car as he passed it. This was it, he surmised. Their last chance.