Heretical Love

"In the grim darkness of the future, there is only war… and sweet xeno love."

A quest thread on /tg/ started by the user Papa-N (!!94V8GGifJkU), it concerns the last Guardsman left on the planet of Yagis V.

Introducing Maximus Decarus, Pimp of the Imperium.

Oh yes, it's that kind of quest thread. Cut, organised and ribbed for extra reading pleasure.

Exploits so far have included (but are not limited to) fighting a fish-god, besting Doomrider in a motorcycle joust, charging Abaddon the Despoiler with a knife, being killed by (and then subsequently sleeping with) a group of Daemonettes, soloing a Defiler and surfing the chaos of the warp with the Big E himself.

Papa-N has also become (in)famous for trolling his loving public with alternate story endings, or bizarre tangents. These are listed at the bottom. They are extra heretical. You have been warned.

This article contains PROMOTIONS! Don't say we didn't warn you.

THE STORY

Thread 1: IT'S HERESY TIME

You are Inquisitor Maximus Decarus, feared by xeno and heretic alike. You leave fried Orks and charred Eldar in the wake of your fleet’s exterminatus as you sail about the stars in the Emperors name.

Haha, just kidding, you are Max Decarus, lowly trooper in the Emprah’s imperial guard. Orks don’t seem to notice your lasgun and the last Eldar you saw wiped out half of your squad and insulted your mother. You were just a boot when your landing ship touched down on Yagis V, and you have quickly ascended nothing in rank by your heroic deeds of fleeing and being lucky enough to stay out of the Commisar’s sights.

Today… Today isn’t much different.

You feebly fire your glorified laser pointer in the general direction of a horde of charging Orks, you don’t need to aim, you would have to try to miss. It’s not like hitting them does much anyways.

A Monolith appears suddenly to your left, just warped on in. From where is anyone’s guess. “Thank the Empruh, spess muhreens!” You hear a guardsman cry out, voice mystified with adoration. Sure enough, six of the Emprah’s finest waltz up behind your position, sizing up the Monolith. “FOR THA EMPROOOOAAAARRRR!!!” They howl simultaneously as they bound over the low barricade protecting you from shootah fire. The space marines charge out, waving chainswords menacingly and looking fierce. The Monolith doesn’t even move as gauss fire obliterates every last astartes. Welp…

You have to believe the stories of the space marines are if nothing else, highly exaggerated. This is the second time you’ve seen those blue suited bastards scream litanies and charge to their doom. The first time at a Chaos Titan of all things…

“We are so fucked.” You groan as Chaos Daemons start warping in between you and the Orks. At least they have nice tits… Purple and attached to warp beasts who would enjoy little more than ripping you apart. But still, you didn’t know Daemonettes were stacked. A Fire Prism from out of nowhere busies itself with hammering away at your squad, as quite obviously you are the real threat here. You, huddling low and shaking in your “armor”. Some Fire Warriors show up and start blasting away as well, sure why the fuck not, one giant “kill some guardsmen” party… Hours later you somehow pull yourself from under a pile of rubble and Orks, seeing no one around. There is a Vox nearby, and you give it a try. “Guys?” you ask quietly. Up in the dark sky you see the Imperial Cruiser you arrived in snap in half as an Ork ship just rams on through it. “…Guys?” “…” No response, just static. All of this because this planet was home to a power fist that for whatever reason the machine cult had been worshipping for millennia… Well at least the Armory is nearby, so you scrounge for some equipment.

>[X] Commissar Uniform

Some call me the Commisar of Love. *BLAM* The hat is probably the coolest thing ever, the sword and pistol are both pretty sweet, but this fucking hat, seriously. You are too busy flexing and posing in a mirror to notice a servo skull float up behind you. The skull beeps and you whirl around, flailing your new sword and busting a cap as you pop off rounds. Wu Tang Clan ain’t nuthin to fuck wit. “Oh, it’s just you…” You are glad no one was around to see you.

The skull scans you and must think you really are a Commisar because it starts playing a message. You listen intently as it lays out tactical data for all the Xenos here. Interesting. A nearby Vox rattles out a quick message, identifying itself as a sister of battle. The Mechanicus command is nearby as well. Well there isn’t much else to do, may as well check out some of these leads. Who knows, maybe you can find some help or even a way off this rock… Or get your knob slobbed, it could happen.

Many Guardsmen mistakenly believe that the Sisters of Battle are allies that can be trusted entirely. What they fail to realize is that often times a Sister is just as likely to roast you for even a whiff of heresy as they are to help you. They also have a VERY broad and often convoluted definition of heresy. For this reason, you approach the rhino transport with utmost caution. True, you did track the broadcast to this vehicle, but you don’t trust a Sorita unless she is far separated from the nearest incineration device. You clear your throat and knock on the rear hatch of the transport.

“Sister of Battle, this is Commisar Decarus, are you in there?” A jet of fire almost engulfs you, missing by nigh more than a foot. You dive out of the way as another firing port opens right in front of your face. The ramp drops with a thud and a Sorita comes screaming out, chainsword roaring and fire bursting all around her. Only after several moments does she slow to a stop, gazing around hawkishly, as her flamer dies down. “Am I still alive?” You ask, having ducked and covered as you had learned to do. Her eyes snap to you and you feel them burning as hot as her flamer, as though boring into your very being. You know she is eyeing you for any glimpse of heresy, you pray she doesn’t pick up on any. If she does, you might be lucky enough to garner a quick death via chansword rather than a drawn out burning ordeal. Though likely not.

“Die heretic!” “No, fuck you, you crazy bolter bitch, I’m not a heretiiicccccc!!!” You howl as you dodge yet another slash of her chainsword. She’s fast, too fast, and in her armor far stronger than you are. The sword comes back around just after you dodged, you don’t have time to avoid it this time. You throw up your hands in some kind of pitiful defense. The roaring implement of demise slashes down toward you, is this it? Is this how you end up? Cut to pieces on some xeno world by a cute but slightly crazy “ally”?

An instant before the chainsword crashes home into your soft, fleshy frame, a blinding golden light flashes. The chainsword flys out of the Sorita’s hand and lands in the dirt yards away. She blinks at you, clearly in shock. “It must be a sign…” She whispers, and she kneels in quick prayer. You get up off the ground and dust off your hat. You aren’t sure what happened, but if it hadn’t you would be dead. In the flash of light, you swear you glimpsed a golden pauldron of some kind. But that isn’t possible, you must have just been seeing things.

You squirm a bit under her gaze, which doesn’t let up as her face draws ever closer… “Hmph, something saved you today, the Emprah must be watching over you. Still, I can’t ignore such an obvious sign.” She sets down her weapons and takes a seat on a piece of rubble, sighing as she does so.

You can’t help but notice, even for a Sorita, she is really damn cute. She sports a shorter cut of the Sister’s standard white hair, though with the addition of a small purity seal hair pin. Her face is smooth, and she sports a small inqusitiorial tattoo under her left eye, which is blue. You notice her right eye, in comparison, is green. Admittedly however, you have a hard time concentrating on any of these details. After all, you’ve never been this close to a Sorita, especially one with such massive sweater squiggies, who also tried to kill you. Emprah be praised, sometimes this grim and dark universe offers a brief reprieve of bliss. Though the grimdark of the fact you almost got flayed still has you pretty shaken up.

“S-s-s-so, w-w-w-what are you doing here?” Your voice is shaky, must be the adrenaline. You sit down and put your hat on your lap to cover up your massive erection, must be the adrenaline, maybe. She looks you over again before answering, the steel in her eyes still very apparent. She doesn’t trust you, and you can’t exactly blame her. Golden flashes of light and all. “I got separated from my sisters when the Chaos Marines hit our position, the defiler they brought with them overwhelmed our zeal, we clearly were not faithful enough.” She looks at her hands dejectedly, as though disgusted with herself.

“Do you have any idea what in the name of the Emprah is happening here? I mean, how many of our forces are left, how screwed are we?” You ask, placing the hat back on your head. She looks back at you and shrugs. “You probably know most of it. Our troops are scattered at best, the guard is more or less wiped out, and the space marines… well…” she trails off, looking annoyed. “Did they charge another Titan and or Monolith?” “A Knarloc…” She says through her double facepalm.

Your foot feels itchy and restless, you rub at it through your boot absent mindedly. “So what your trying to tell me, is we are pretty screwed?” She shrugs in her armor, lowering her hands. “The guard and astartes perhaps, but I know my Sisters are alive and bolstering their strength, I just know it!” She suddenly looks hopeful, the fire back in her eyes. It’s not like you have much going on anyway. “Want me to help you find them, your sisters I mean? I’m sure they are just fine.” She stands up and walks over to you, placing one of her gauntleted hands on your shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it, I’ll accept your help Commissar.” She beams at you before slowly looking away, averting her eyes. You notice she is blushing a bit as she rubs her lip with a finger. “…and I’m sorry I tried to purge you.” You barely hear her. Your heart is pounding in your ears being this close to her. You might need to move your hat again, damn adrenaline. She suddenly spins around and pumps a fist. “All right, let us venture forth and find my Sisters!” The sudden change snaps you out of your dreamy state.

“Huzzzzah!” you yell as you drive your boot into her backside She yelps in surprise and spins around, glaring at you, teeth bared in rage. “That’s for trying to flay me without even having a POSSIBLE REASON as to why I was somehow a heretic.” You shout at her. Her temper briefly flares but suddenly subsides and she nods. “I’ve rightly earned that, perhaps my zeal was… ah… too hot this day.” “Damn right it was…” You mutter as you cross your arms. “Anyways, where exactly are we headed?” You ask. She looks at you quizzically. “I thought perhaps you knew, Commissar. As the Emperor’s hand seems to rest on your shoulder this day.” You don’t say anything, it’s evident neither of you have any idea where to go.

""Grab my hand and spin with me sister!" You yell, outstretching your hand toward her. "Wh-what?" She asks, taking a step back and perhaps re-evaluating your level of heresy. You dive in and snatch her hand, pulling her in close to you. Your eyes meet and in that moment of primordial passion you begin to spin. Faster and faster you go, where you'll wind up nobody knows.

"TO THE SKIES!" You bellow suddenly, stopping the spin. "Huh?" The surprised Sorita gasps. You pull her to a nearby Valkerie, and together you clamor inside. "Do you uh... Know how to drive one of these?" You stop pushing buttons and flipping switches to look over at her for a moment. "No I do not, and knowing is half the battle." With a lurch the Valkerie lifts off and jets away, as you cruise about the skies with impunity. "WERE GOING DOWNNNNN!" The sister bellows, grabbing for something to brace the impact. The craft slams into the pavement hard, and suddenly breaks through the ground below...

"Are we dead?" The Sorita asks, rubbing her head. You feel around, you don't think you are. "That would be my ASS Commissar..."

Meanwhile, in the legion of doom...

"Lord Abbadon, we have completed the final preparations, we are prepared to use THAT."

Abbadon, the embodiment of Chaos, almost allows himself to crack a smile. Soon this world w...

A loud crash is heard overhead and Abbadon gazes up to see what caused the ruckus. A second later, the cockpit of a Valkyrie sinks down into view. Inside, a Commissar and a Sorita...

"I was just looking for the instrument panel..." You lie, not sure what drove you to try to cop a feel over power armor. The Valkyrie sinks into the dirt and suddenly drops down into a cave below. And Abbadon the Despoiler is staring you in the face.

"Oh Emprah, THRUSTERS TO MAXIMUM! LET FLY ALL GUNS" You punch the controls and slam every button you can reach. The Valkyrie's engines roar and the frontal guns and missiles erupt to life. Or they would if the power wasn't dead. Abbadon's companion rips open the cockpit of the ship, as Abbadon himself has no arms, and wrenches you out, holding you in his power claw. This is probably the end for you. The Sorita is snatched up by two other Chaos Marines in Terminator armor. This really, really doesn't look good. Still, there's nothing like a good blaster at your side kid.

The Chaos Marines are too busy cackling madly to notice you slipping your laspistol out of its holster. "Its Blamming time!" Your first shot hits the one holding you under the jaw, and at point blank range there is nothing to save him. The power claw goes slack and he drops you to the ground as his corpse falls backwards. With excellent accuracy you headshot one of the Terminators holding your Sorita friend, and he fudges his save and dies because fuck him. The other one drops the sisters arm and runs. "Nooooo, noooooo!!! Seize them! Seize theemmmmm!!!" Abbadon howls after you as you grab the Sorita's arm and break into a run.

"Abbadon, your reign of heresy ends TODAY!" You draw your sword and ready yourself, steeling your nerves for what you are about to do. Wait are you about to attack fucking Abbadon THE DESPOILER? Too late, your legs are already moving, propelling you at full force right at the embodiment of heresy. "Commissar no!" You hear the Sorita call out from behind you. This attack could well decide the fate of the Imperium as man as you know it.

You swing with all your might, but it only slams into the side of Abbadon's exposed head and doesn't penetrate more than a millimeter. He reels backwards and trips over his foot, crashing onto his back. You thought about finishing him off until a horde of Chaos Marines come charging from a passage in the cave. "Time to go!" You yell as you grab the Sorita and throw her over your shoulder. Holy fuck she is heavy, that power armor weighs a ton. Still, you can't be a little bitch right now. You toss her into the passenger seat of the Valkyrie and jump in yourself. Furiously you smash and kick and scream at the controls. The Chaos Marines are close enough to start shooting now, and they do. Bolter rounds slam into the hull of the vehicle all around you. "By the Empruh you will start this day!" You scream as you shoot the instrument panel. The machine spirit reluctantly gives and the craft shudders to life. Wasting no time you throw it in R and hit max throttle.

"I'll get you next time Commissar! NEXT TIME!!!!" Abbadon howls at you, shaking his fist in rage, if he had one. With a terrible screech the craft throws itself backwards out of the hole and soars ass-first into the sky. While its true you did manage to put this punk machine spirit in its place, it is also true that you still don't know how to fly this damn thing. Worse yet, the engines are losing power and the control panel is flashing on and off. This bird is going down, the question is, where?

"Hey, since we might die when you try to land this thing, whats your name?" The Sorita looks over to you and asks. You look away from the instrument panel momentarily. "Its Max, not sure why you want to know a silly thing like that." She looks away. "Max..." She says softly. "And how about you, what can I call you?" Her gaze snaps back to you. "Lycheria. Sister Lycheria." The left engine flames out, looks like this is going to be another hard landing.

The roof of the manifactorum is underneath you, and though it is quite an impressively large structure, you do question your own landing skills. The Valkyrie shudders and bucks as its last remaining engine struggles to keep the craft stable. Wind whips though the now exposed cockpit. "Hey!" The Sorita yells over the din. "If this is the end for us, I just wanted to let you know, I was glad to meet you Max." She finishes with a small smile. The sight give you a bit of confidence, but still, the task before you is daunting. "Here goes nothing right?" You grip the controls hard. The ship is coming in to hot, but there is little more you can do than try to hold her steady, hope the roof holds, and hope you don't go skidding off of it and crash into the ground far below the building.

With some kind of deft skill you must have latently been concealing up until this point, you actually manage to set the Valkyrie down fairly lightly for a flaming hunk of fire and hate. When the craft finally skids to a stop and the painful screaming subsides, you open your eyes. “Do stop screaming will you…” Lycheria asks, looking at you dubiously. You lay back in your seat and wipe the sweat off your face. Yesterday you were stealing extra rations from the barracks, today you’ve fought off one of the Imperium’s greatest foes, landed a ship you didn’t know how to fly, and actually lived to tell the tale. Lycheria gets up and stretches, her curvy frame filling up your view against a backdrop of sky. “What’s the matter?” She tilts her head back to look at you playfully. “Carnifex got your tongue?” You smile, but your vision is getting hazy. You try to get up and find that you can’t. Looking down, you see why. A piece of shrapnel from the shredded canopy has annoyingly lodged itself in your chest. Blood drips down from the wound. Lycheria’s face goes white-er, as she notices the wound. She rushes over to you quickly and pulls apart your clothing to get a better look at the wound. “Its… Its serious, but nothing you can’t survive.” She pulls you to your feet. “We’re going to go find you some help, get you patched up. By the Emperor’s holy codpiece you had better not die on me.” As she pulls you up, the shrapnel falls out of the wound. What looked like a piercing blow by a large shard is little more than a flesh wound. Both of you stop dead. Until Lycheria smacks you across the head.

“You bastard! I was actually worried about you there!” She screams frantically. And before you know it, her lips are pressed to yours. They are disarmingly soft, you don’t know why you had always assumed a Sorita’s outside would be tough, but it isn’t. The feeling is blissful, and you don’t want it to end. “Sorry, but I think I do have a concussion…” You mumble. “Well we will just have to get that treated, but you should be fine in the meantime. I’ll bandage up your wound though.” Lycheria grabs the medkit out of the husk of the Valkyrie and pops it open.

She tries unsuccessfully to open some packages and then sighs. “Power armor, good for many things, detail work not being one.” Her armor disengages itself and she begins to remove it. You’ve never seen a Sister or astartes remove their armor, it’s pretty interesting. Especially the part where her breastplate falls forward and her tits bounce from the release, though still hidden in a tight sports bra. (+1 as needed to contain tits of this magnitude.) She suddenly notices your eyes, and possibly the strand of drool leading to quite a puddle on the roof. “Like what you see, Commissar?” You're taken aback by the question. If you say yes, will she kill you or unlock full dere mode? Fucking women how do they work?

“…And if perhaps, I do?” You inquire. She picks you up by your collar and pulls you close, you can feel her hot breath on your face. “Then, Max, you had better be willing to see it through to the end.” Her lips meet yours again, a reunion that sets the sky alight with color and causes strange xeno birds to sing their song of triumph. Her breasts, though caged in her tight clothing and begging to be set free, smoosh themselves into your chest. Heaven, this is HEAVEN. The Emperor himself bro-fists you from the golden throne. “Sister Lycheria, is that you?” A voice calls out from the side of the building. Lycheria lets you go and whirls around. “Sister Candis, is that you!?” She cries out joyfully. “Indeed it is, come over here and we will get you off the roof.” The other sister yells back. Your first chance at some sweet warrior-girl-from-space action and you get cockblocked. HARD. Go figure...

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 Soritas 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 her 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, eyeing 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 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 HONORABLE 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 EAGARLY 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 square 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 FLAVOUR. 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 double, 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 POSIDEON, 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, his 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 him up the sand after you, but friction gets the better of him and he is slowed to a halt. You are mere inches away from his 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.

Trolling

"We purge with righteous zeal!" Her flamer crackles to life, and you have not time to dodge, or do anything really, before the barrel is staring you in the face. You never thought you would go out like this, a choppa to the face maybe, but not a Sorita making guardsman toast. The jet of fire engulfs you, the white hot heat searing away your flesh from bone. The pain is excruciating as you are roasted alive. You try to scream, but nothing emerges as liquid flame pours into your lungs. Your body falls to the ground, charred and broken. Your last thoughts are of home…

"Give me that spear, xeno wentch!" You roar furiously, snatching it out of her hand. "It's on like orky-kong you over sized worm!" You run full tilt toward Ra'alman, who again opens his mouth. You are mere feet away when the beast lurches forward unexpectedly, closing its gigantic maw down on you.

The teeth shred you to ribbons instantly.

Original Threads

Thread I: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17067317

Thread II: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17073735

Thread III: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17095883

Thread IV: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17116254

Thread V: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17168467

Thread VI: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17191456

Thread VII: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17215659

Thread VIII: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17248917

Thread IX: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17270982

Thread IX - OVERTIME: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17274776

Thread X (ongoing): http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17315227

Thread X - OVERTIME: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17318585/