Into Silence: Nightmare's for the dreamless

A shared universe of Tau stories, created by ATT posters.
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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#19 » Nov 30 2014 12:32

I have to say, I'm enjoying this read, its got a nice plot flow.

However, as was mentioned several times already, you really need to proof read prior to posting. You have some choppy thoughts and actions happening that could have easily been rectified with some reading out loud.

When you're ready to post the next section, wait a day then read it out loud and hear what you're writing. Waiting the day will give your thoughts a chance to rest and reading it out loud will allow you to hear how it will sound to someone else.

Again, as was mentioned earlier, if you can get someone to read it for you, even better!

Regardless, still liking the story, keep it up.

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#20 » Feb 28 2015 12:39

I've read through this a few times out loud so i really hope i haven't made any mistakes this time. :sad:.

For those that were wondering, this is where the Feh'rins get introduced properly. I browsing the forum a while back and noticed someone had suggested using the culexus assassin in their unit. So this was the inspiration behind the race, they have a kinda pariah gene in them. They're a new race to the empire and since the Path Resurgence has warp jumping technology i thought they could be partly behind the manufacturing of this equipment and also act as security while in the warp or something like that lol.

Anyway enjoy...

“Sir, do you not think it would be wise to draw your attention back to the environmental suit?” Feek’ah asks as he hoovers over his master’s shoulder.

“Oh that old thing? I’ve sent Fuun’ay to deliver all the details to some of the ‘La’s in the research lab. This, my friend, is something far more interesting,” He taps his plasma cutter on the Pirate’s weapon. “The modifications on this are phenomenal!”

“Looks a little brutish if I may say so sir!”

“Tsk Tsk now Feke’ah, that’s very close minded of you.”

“I am how you made me sir.”
“Didn’t program the attitude though,” Aang’ma says looking round at the droid, as it hovers backwards slightly, “Take this and have it scrubbed clean, there’s something under all that grime that looks interesting.”

Feek’ah’s tiny arm protrudes from his underbelly and takes a large ammo case from the Fio’el.

Hasah leaves the room, ties the pouch around his belt and wanders down the corridor. He stops at one of the view ports and looks out into the deep, dark void of space. The damage that the Path Resurgence gained from the battle with the Pirates was still clearly visible. Hasah spots a tiny four limbed drone scuttle by the window, the drone went about its task of covering a tiny breach in the side of ship. As the task is complete, the droids plasma cutter suddenly sputters and back fires, causing the drone to lose power. Hasah chuckles, a deep clucking sound, as the drone floats past, spinning with its four limbs sticking out like a four pointed star.

“What’s so funny?” Noran asks as he approaches the view port.

Hasah nods at the drone and Noran stares at him quizzically for a second.

“Gotta enjoy the little things I guess. How is he?” he asks nodding towards Tilah’s room.

Hasah sighs and shakes his head, his quills sag slightly.

“I just wish there was something we could do for him, but if Cal can’t help him than I don’t know what we can do.”

Hasah merely shrugs his shoulders and walks down the corridor.

“Wait up.” Norran shouts as he chases after him, “Bursht is out of the medi ward, everyone’s at the bar celebrating. Why don’t you join us?”

“Wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!” screams an intoxicated Calurit.

“Looks like someone got bored waiting for us,” Noran states as he sits down besides Riza.

The group are sat around a big, white table, which is set inside a three walled booth, in the corner of one of the recreation rooms.

“It’s only his second drink as well,” Kassiel says as he throws a shot of a purple liquid down his throat.

“Where’s Hauner?” Noran asks looking round.

Hasah walks over to Calurit, picks him up after a failed attempt to rest his arm on the table ended in him being face first on the floor, and sits next to him. Calurit looks at him confused then fumbles round for another drink.

“Still in his room talking to starch arse.” Riza replies as she rolls her eyes at Calurit’s behaviour.

“How is she anyway?” Bursht asks placing a tray of drinks on the table before sitting down.

“She seems ok,” Noran replies picking up a glass of a red fizzy drink with a green foamed top and clinks it against Bursht’s “But something’s changed with her.”

“Is she prrrurdy?” Calurit slurs

Riza raises an eyebrow and looks at Noran, who chuckles uncomfortably and quickly finishes his drink. “I think you’ve drank too much Cal.”

“Nahhhhhhhh I’m still good,” Cal replies wafting his hand in front of his face and almost losing his balance, “look I can still do this.”

Calurit shakily stands up and steps away from the table, he brings his hand up, holds them out palms down and closes his eyes. The air in front of him starts to ripple and he slowly lowers his hands down, all the while keeping his palms flat. As his hands reach his sides, his feet slowly lift off the ground, Hasah stands up, to rush over and keep him stable, but Calurit opens his eyes and pushes him back down with his will.

“I’ve got this,” he says with a harsh rasp added to his drunken slur “Relaax.”

“I can see this going horribly wrong,” Franklier suddenly appears at the side of the booth, causing Calurit to lose focus and fling himself backwards. “See, I’m a doctor and a seer.”

“Where’s Aeryn?” Bursht asks, looking behind the medic.

“She’s over there by the entrance, I think she’s still getting over the fact that we live with so many xenos,” Franklier replies while pointing over his shoulder as he sits down next to Noran, his mechanical legs whirring as they adjust to a sitting position, “To say the Eldar worked on his mind, you’d think he’d know better.”

“Ssshhhhhhhhhhhh, I’m … fiiinnne.” Calurit replies as he struggles to stand up. He stumbles over to the table and steals a drink from Bursht, which he quickly finishes and slams on the table. “Hey Frankier, how are you? Shhhh I know, I know.”

Franklier shakes his head while laughing at his drunken comrade. Calurit suddenly stands, appearing to almost sober up, and points over to Aeryn.

“Who … is she? In all my life I have not seen such beauty.” He says, looking longingly at the woman. Her amber eyes filled with fear and hate as she glares at the different species of aliens on board the ship.

“Does he always get poetic when he’s drunk?” Franklier asks the group.

“This is the first time he’s actually drank with us.” Noran replies.

“Well at least it’s entertaining,” Kassiel says as he stands up and walks over to the bar.

Aeryn finally looks over to the table, catches Noran’s eye and smiles. She starts to walk over but stops as she notices a tall, white, scaly creature with tentacles hanging below tiny, black diamond shaped eyes walking over to the group.

“Hello, being designated ‘Calurit’” the creature says as it approaches him. It’s long, black robes flowing as if the creature is floating in water.

Calurit collapses to the floor, tears running down his face. He grabs hold of his stomach as he is violently sick.

“Looks like the drinks finally caught up with him,” Franklier chuckles as he moves his cloven, robotic hoof from the vomit.

“That’s not the drink …” Noran leans over and nods towards the tall creature that is now stroking Calurit with a long bony finger. “Feh’rin.”

“Please refrain from abusing such a beautiful talent,” The Feh’rin says in a soft yet menacing voice.

“Leave … me … a… alone,” Calurit mutters between wretches.

“But if they affect psykers then why’s Hasah fine?” Franklier asks Noran as he looks over at the Kroot, who is sitting there, staring at the table.

“Can’t you see him shaking? He’s using all of his will to fight it,” Noran points out as he stands and walks over to the Feh’rin.

“Plleaaseee go.” Calurit pleads as blood begins to appear in his vomit.

“I merely wish to bask in your glory, being designated ‘Calurit’,” The Feh’rin states as it leans in close to Calurit and deeply inhales, its tentacles probing his face in the process.

“Ok that’s enough,” Noran walks over to the Feh’rin, making sure to step over the vomit, grabs its arm and pushes it away from the psyker. The creature’s tentacles flick out as it hisses at Noran threateningly.

“I really wouldn’t if I was you.”Noran raises his fists and gets into a fighting stance.

The Feh’rin’s body spasms. Snapping bones can be heard from under its robes as its body contorts until it is hunched over, resting on its knuckles on the floor, giving it a more brutish appearance. The creature hisses again, raising one of its suddenly thick arms, but before it can pounce a chair is smashed over its head, knocking it out.

“Ugly Wángbā dàn,” Kassiel spits on the creature as he walks past it and sits at the table.

Calurit and Hasah both slump down and pass out as the creature is carried off to their designated quarters.

The Future is uncertain. To stagnate is to die!

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#21 » Feb 28 2015 03:08

I am loving the character dynamic. It is an excellent humorous addition.

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#22 » Feb 28 2015 08:34

knightofthewr wrote:I am loving the character dynamic. It is an excellent humorous addition.

I couldn't agree more!

I have said it previously, your imagination is incredible! You've definitely done a better job this go round with regards to the grammar and most of your spelling. Only one spelling mistake actually jumped out at me in fact, "Hoover", when you clearly meant "hover".

There were a few other grammar issues, but all in all, really nicely done. Did reading it out loud work for you?

Now for the good... Hmmm... No, that's not fair... Great parts!

As knight mentioned, the character dynamic is great as usual, but the way your involving and evolving the species that are present throughout your story is great! Loving it!

Keep up the awesome work!

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#23 » Mar 01 2015 05:09

Thank you both for the kind words :)

@deepstrike you were right, reading out loud made a HUGE difference, so in the future I won't be rushing myself to post the next thing without giving it a few days to read through it

Glad your all enjoy it :biggrin:

The Future is uncertain. To stagnate is to die!

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#24 » Mar 01 2015 10:03

Very happy to hear I could help, keep up the good work!

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#25 » Mar 16 2015 07:34

Aeryn rushes down the corridor muttering an old prayer, which she used to say before going into battle. “… Let his hand guide us through turmoil. Let his light shine through us and burn down the walls that block the path of the righteous …” without looking, she barges past a group of Tarellians, knocking one of them over.

“Hey!” hisses the tallest of the green scaled creatures as she starts to walk away, “Aren’t you going to apologise?” he glares at her as he picks his friend up.

Aeryn suddenly stops in her tracks, her body starts to shake as she takes a deep breath “… may his grace aid is in wiping out lesser races …”

“Hey! Are you listening to me?” the Tarellian shouts at her and takes a step forward.

“Leave it Ssorun,” a smaller Tarellian, with red stripes painted onto its dull green scale, grabs Sorun on the arm “We cannot afford to cause any trouble here.”

“We cannot let the filthy worm get away with this, Kial”.

“What did you call me?” She venomously spits from behind gritted teeth.

“Ignore her brother. Letss just get a drink.” Kial says, ignoring Aeryn’s question.

Sorun stands motionless for a second, fighting off the urge to retaliate, then turns to walk away with the rest of the group.

Aeryn turns round, she takes a quick note of her surroundings, then directs her focus at the Tarellians, who have now all turned their backs on here. “Are the rest of your kind as cowardice as you?” she yells at them. She smiles, knowing that this has touched a nerve, as the group stop.

“We are a proud race! We fight with honour! Something you human’sss need to learn!” Sorun yells as he unsheathes his battle hammer.

“There is nothing that we can learn from lower life forms.” She slides a small war dagger out of her sleeve, the words “Xeno, Daemon and Heretic. All will Perish.” are engraved on the dull, silver blade. Sorun starts to walk over, shaking off Kial’s hand, who tries to stop him, in the process.

“You are nothing but Butchers!” Sorun hisses, looking down at her down at her, his face heavily scarred with an eye patch on the right side of his face. The creature stands about a head taller than her, their difference in build almost matches that of a human and a space marine, but Aeryn stands her ground defiantly.

“Sssorun, leave it. It isn’t worth it.” Kial shouts from the back, trying to stop a fight from breaking out.

Sorun leans down, so they’re face to face, and whispers in a harsh, reptilian hiss “Walk away and I will show you mercy, just this once whelp.” The smell of rotten meat and stagnant swamp water rushes over her but she still stands her ground, staring hatefully at the creature. “Don’t make me hurt y…”

Quick as a flash the creature is struck with a burst of light, the creature stumbles back in silence for a second then screams in agony as it realises Aeryn’s dagger is lodged in its remaining good eye. “You should’ve died with the rest of your kind!” The Lounge suddenly rush for her, all of them drawing small one handed weapons.

The first Tarellian to reach her, Kial, swings a short, tomahawk style axe down. She glides sideways, out of the way, and swings her leg round low, taking out its legs. As she rises the other two Tarellians are upon her, each of them have similar markings of white patches covering their bodies. One of them swings low with the sharp end of a spear, its tip appears to be made with a huge tooth of some gargantuan alien creature, while the other thrusts a small, curved blade towards her head. Moving in one smooth motion she leans back and lifts her feet up, using the moment that the ship’s artificial gravity is providing her, she grabs the sword wielders wrist, spins her body round and flips it over, throwing it into the wall.

She hits the Fio’tak face down, the spongy surface saving her from a broken nose. The spear wielder thrusts the weapon down, aiming to impale her spine, but Aeryn launches herself backwards, in between the creature’s legs, as the spear tip brushes past the top of her head.


Aeryn and the others suddenly stop, not from the booming voice but from the hum of plasma cells charging into life.

“Face the floor and place your hands on the backs of your heads!” a hulking Tau in white armour steps forward, his plasma pistol trained on Aeryn and places a pair of mag cuffs on her wrists.

Kial struggles against his captors, eventually freeing himself by throwing his head back and hitting the security guard in the jaw. Once free the reptile rushes over to Aeryn and leaps in the air, ready to kick his legs out, but a dark blue kroot, wearing the same white armour as the Shas, grabs the Tarellian by the throat and slams it into the ground. An electric shock emits from the cuffs, knocking the Lizard out.

“Anyone else who resists will suffer the same punishment!” The security chief says as he lifts Aeryn up. Out of all of the apprehended, Aeryn is the only one to remain calm and quiet. She glares at the crowd that has gathered, as she is lead away, until her gaze suddenly falls on Noran and the others, carrying the unconscious psykers, standing in the doorway of the bar.

“Aeryn? What’s going on?” he asks looking confused.

“What did you?” Riza asks as she notices the blinded Tarellian crying in pain.

Their questions go unanswered as she is lead away by the security team.

“This isn’t good,” Noran says to himself.


Aang’ma runs his thumb over the symbol on the cleaned ammo casing.

“I knew it,” He says to himself.

“Is there an issue sir?” Feekah asks as he hovers over.

“This symbol, I knew it looked familiar.”

“What is it sir?”

“It is the old mark of the Aang family. My ancestors were one of the few Tau that managed to escape when the Y’he attacked. We changed our family symbol out of respect for those that didn’t make it.”

“How has the weapon survived for all that time?”

“It hasn’t. This technology surpasses what we were capable of back then.”


Tilah wakes up at his desk and wipes drool from his face, in each corner of the room are small bundles of burning leaves left behind by Akt’ero. He looks down at his hands, which are trembling from the absence of alcohol, and rubs them against his puffy, purple rimmed eyes.

“What’s that noise?” he asks to himself as he notices a faint buzzing sound from outside his room. He pushes himself up, his legs feel shaky and weak, and walks over to the door, waving his hand over the scanner to open it as he approaches it.

The doors open to a small group of humans bowing before him in a dusty, brown desert. The sky is a bloody red hue with a violent thunder storm raging in the distance. He turns round to go back to his desk but his room has disappeared, in its place stands a huge podium with the tall, dark hooded being standing behind it, reading from an old leather bound tome.

“We are the children of the new order! We live and breathe as one and as one we fight to spread the word of Legion!” the dark figure says, to which the congregation all cheer to, “We have been hiding in the shadows of the great devourer, lost to the galaxy, abandoned by those we all once called brothers. When you were lost a drift, left to die, who was it that came to your aid?”

“Mont’uraun!” the group shout in response.

“And who was it that sheltered you from the death taint of this world?”


“And now we have news that there are those, out there, who wish to take away everything that we’ve built in his name! They claim to work towards a greater world but that is a lie! Their only wish is to sit upon a throne built on lies and deceit and rule the galaxy!”

The crowd being to boo and hiss, Tilah walks onto the podium and peers over the figure’s shoulder to read the book but as he looks at it the words begin to blur and dance on the pages. He steps back, holding his head, as his eyes begin to sting. The crowd suddenly freeze, the figure slowly turns to face him and starts to laugh manically. Tilah steps back, the sound of the figure’s laughter makes him feel nauseas as it distorts into a mechanical ringing.

Tilah suddenly sits up, he is sat behind his desk once again, in the corner of his vision he notices a little red flashing light on the comms system.

“Ahem… yes?” he says. He has a quick scan of the room, taking note of burning leaves left behind by Akt’ero in the corner.

“It’s Noran, are you ok?”

“I’m fine. What do you want?” Tilah struggles to hide the worry in his voice.

“There’s been a little incident in and outside the communal bar. It’s all under control but I just thought I’d let you hear from me before anyone else.”

“What’s happened?” he jumps as he sees the smoke, coming from the leaves, suddenly turn into the shape of the tall figure. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as he looks back, the smoke has gone back to normal.

“We had a run in with the Feh’rins, Cal and Hasah have been taken to the infirmary.”

“Are they ok?”

“Yeah. They’re unconscious but that’s to be expected, damn pariah gene. They’re just in there to be monitored, better to be safe.”

“Ok, what’s the other issue?”

“Yeah … erm … I never got round to telling you. The other day I bumped into an old friend from my old life, she’s … struggling to adjust to her new environment.”

Tilah sighs and rubs his forehead, “What did she do?”

“… Started a fight with a group of Tarellians, one of them is now blind because of it. She’s being detained.”

“Do you want me to have a word with security? See if I can get them to release her.”

“No, she needs to stay in there. She can’t get into any more trouble while she’s in there, plus I’ll be able to have a proper talk with her.”

“Ok, let me know if you need me to do anything to help.”

“Will do … still having the dreams?”

“Yeah, I had Akt’ero in earlier trying to cleanse the spirits or something … didn’t help though. I’m going to see if I can find something to occupy me while we wait for the next jump.”

“Ok, just take it easy.”


Aeryn is thrown into a tiny, white cell. There appears to be no wall behind her but she can hear the faint hum of the anti-matter barrier that was activated as soon as she was pushed into the room. She walks over to the corner and sits on the cot, which is attached to the wall. She clasps her hands together and stares blankly at them.

“Is this how you choose to repay us for taking you in?” the security guard scowls at her from behind the barrier, “We save your ship, give you medical aid and for what? So you can brutally attack a member of the empire?”

The guard’s questions are only answered with Aeryn’s cold, hard glare.

“Why are you Gue’las so hateful?”

Still, she says nothing.

“Well you’ve got plenty of time to dwell on what you’ve done.” At that he turns and walks away.

“Well Aeryn, looks like you’ve got yourself in a fine mess again.” She lies on the bed and stares at the ceiling, regretfully admiring the craftsmanship of the cells creator.
The Future is uncertain. To stagnate is to die!

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#26 » Apr 18 2015 07:31

I've been a little preoccupied with the new challenge so sorry for this update being a little later than intended.

Enjoy ...

Purtish’s ship finally docks with the Valiant Tide, a space hulk acquired by the Brotherhood, its dank and cluttered interior at odds to the power of the ships technology that has been worked into the claimed vessel.

Purtish leaves his ship, with the few remaining members of his crew, and makes his way to see his master. He notices that the menials on board make a conscious effort to move out of his way, at first he thought it was out of respect but their glares and condescending mutterings tell him otherwise. His failing of Suy’er’ma’s mission must have spread throughout the ship and although Th’ra Mya’sune had taken the news well, the humans of the brotherhood have not.

“Our brother’s do not seem to currently favour us sir.” Julliun remarks, the young soldier flinches as one of the menials spits in his face.

“Let them be lad. Th’ra Mya’Sune has given us his forgiveness, so we are safe in the eyes of the great Mont’uraun and that is all we need.” Purtish replies as he puts his hand, palm down with the middle two fingers together, on his chest at the mention of his god.

The small group finally reach the commander’s office but the two guards, stationed at the front, refuse to move for them.

“You bring shame to the Brotherhood,” Says the left guard, his face hidden behind a round featureless mask of obsidian. His rifle hums into life and a tiny section of the gun’s plating pops off.

“Master Suy’er’ma is furious,” says the other guard, his helmetless head revealing a once beautiful face now adorned with blue tattoos and a single scar running vertically down his forehead. As common with most fanatics of the Brotherhood the man had mutilated his face in devotion to the Mont’uraun.
“Let us through,” Purtish demands with a sigh as he rubs his forehead “Every time I come here you find an excuse to delay me. We all know you envy me because Master Suy’er’ma favours me.”

The helmetless guard walks forward to punch the captain but a soft yet commanding voice, from the other side of the door, stops him. “Just let them in Hilarn!”

The guard’s reluctantly step aside and the group enter the room, Purtish mockingly bows to them before entering.

As they enter the room they all remove their boots and put thin, black fabric slippers on. They walk to the centre of the barely furnished room and bend to one knee. In front of the group is the hologram of a tall hooded creature, similar build to the one Purtish spoke to on his ship but this one has a red projection. He is standing behind a desk facing the wall, its hand clasped behind its back. Suy’er’ma stares quietly at the red, three fingered hand print that is painted on the wall, although the humans cannot see it, the hand print is made up of shapes that only the highest members of the brotherhood can make out.

“So the misguided survived?” Suy’er’ma finally asks, his attention still on the wall.

“That is correct sire.” Purtish answers shamefully.

“I don’t like failure, you know that.”

“I am aware sire, we underestimated the misguided ones.”

“Yes you did,” Suy’er’ma looks over to the side and nods to the shadowy corner, as if from nowhere another creature, this one shorter and broader than Suy’er’ma, steps out of the darkness. From out of its sleeve slides a short plasma pistol. The creature walks over to Julliun and places the pistol on his forehead. Jullian begins to whimper as the plasma pistol whines into life, as the shot is charging up, the pistol gives off a faint green glow.

“The Th’ra may have forgiven you but I fail to see your usefulness.” As Suy’er’ma finishes speaking the room suddenly warms slightly, they hear a low hum followed by the thud of Jullian’s headless body hitting the floor.

“We did the best we could with what limited resources we had sire.” Purtish claims as the killer moves up to the next crew member. The pistol brightens up again as it slowly raises to Rehia’s forehead, her breathing becomes erratic and she looks over to Purtish, desperation and fear bright in her crimson eyes.

“Please, try and have some dignity.” The same hum and thud fill the room.

“Well spare their lives! The failing is all mine … sire.” Purtish stands and faces the executioner, the creature walks over to him, the sound of heavy, mechanical feet hitting metal echo in the room with each step.

Suy’er’ma turns his head slightly at Purtish’s offer of sacrifice, Purtish had always been a favourite of his so his death will be mourned. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as the pistol’s hum announces the captain’s fate.

“There are more misguided coming!” Freha suddenly shouts, her half shaved head darts between Suy’er’ma and her captain. She has always had a hidden infatuation with Purtish, her voice is broken and shaky as she tries to fight back the tears.

“Is this true?” Suy’er’ma asks.

“We intercepted some messages from a secondary party that are on route to rendezvous with them.”

“And why am I only just hearing about it?”

“It’s in my report sire. The information doesn’t change the fact that I failed, I accept my punishment.”

The executioner places the gun against Purtish’s head, the muzzle resting on the vertical scar on his forehead. He closes his eyes and waits for his end.

“Wait.” The executioner turns and looks at Suy’er’ma agitatedly, “There may still be use for you.”

Eddorin and Kassiel make their way through the lower deck, Kassiel scans the crowd of people every now and then.

“Will you relax? Nothing’s going to happen to us.” Eddorin says as Kassiel pushes him into a shabby, poorly built hut.

Degarsh is sat with his feet resting on the table. Despite being in a position of power, albeit a corrupt one, he is dressed in a tattered, patched up suit. He slow takes a drag on his lho stick and blows ‘O’ rings as he looks at the new comers out of the corner of his eye. “Took our damn time.”

“Had to make sure no one saw us.” Kassiel replies as he sits down at the table.

“Why are we here?” Eddorin asks.

Kassiel kicks a chair out, which Eddorin takes and sits upright at the table, his hands clasped together in front of him.

“I can’t keep an eye on you all the time. The Feh’rin’s are wondering out of their sections and, before he a little chat with one of them, Cal’s sniffing round on a psyker hunt.” Kassiel explains as he picks at his finger nails with his knife.

“… And why are we here? And what does this have to do with me?” Eddorin asks as he looks around the room confused.

“Degarsh has set you up with a little job.”

“Doing what?” Eddorin looks dubiously at Degarsh, who cheekily winks at him and laughs.

“Lad, you’ll be working at my … establishment, working on the tables, taking their money.” Degarsh explains to which Eddorin turns his nose up, shaking his head.
“You can’t explain me to work in that hell hole, it’s bad enough that I have to slum it in the workers quarters!” Eddorin states to Kassiel

“Well I’m sorry but you left the privileged life behind.” Kassiel replies, putting the knife down.

“Not by choice. We told you that when we employed you.”

“I don’t care about that, I need to keep you safe and that’s it.”

“Didn’t keep my brother safe though did you?”

Kassiel slams his hands on the table and pushes himself up. Eddorin stares worryingly at him as he balls his hands into fist, since coming into his care Eddoirn has seen countless time the damage those fists can cause, and walks over to the door.

“You’re staying here and that’s it! You wasn’t bothered about coming down here to gamble, which you never thanked me for getting you out of Yīgè gǒu shǐ yī duī of debt by the way, so it won’t kill you to work down here!”

“I was bored and ….” Eddorin’s words fall on deaf ears as Kassiel storms out of the room and slams the door.

“Get that dumb look off your face lad. I’ll keep you busy so don’t worry about being bored.” Degrash erupts into an unsettling, hysterical laugh.


Aeryn had begun, for the fifth time since the new guard shift began, to count how many times the prisoner in the next cell bangs on the wall before either getting bored or passing out. This time she counts six followed by a dull thud. Judging from the sounds, the creature was heavy set and she assumes the disgruntled creature was using its head to attempt to break free. She snorts derivatively at the stupidity of the creature, “What was the point in that?” she thinks “How far did the thing think it would’ve got?”

With her ‘entertainment’ over she gets up and starts her daily exercise routine, with the harsh, white lights of the containment cell being constantly on Aeryn is struggling to tell when one day ends and the next begins, even the guard’s shift rotation is irregular. “Your pathetic mind games won’t work on me,” she falls to the floor and begins her press ups, her dog tags jingle about every time she pushes up, after her set of 20 she kicks her legs up so she is perfectly vertical. She balances for a minute then does 10 press ups, her feet constantly in the air, then she repeats the combination 2 more times.

She slowly lowers her feet down and does another 10 press ups, in between each push up, she brings each knee up to touch the elbow above it. By now she has started to build up a sweat, and has caught the attention of the guard, so she leaps up and starts jogging round the cell.

She notices the Tau standing on the other side of the barrier, watching her run. She stops running, walks to the centre of the cell and begins to fight an invisible foe.

“Why do you practice such barbarism?” the guard finally asks.

Aeryn ignores him, she ducks low under an invisible punch and answers with an uppercut to the midsection as she rises. She has ripped the sleeves off her black ch'eong'sam and her bare arms gleam in the light, making her pale skin shine like freshly polished porcelain. Her bare feet patter on the Fio’tak as she spins round, like a balier dancer from ancient Terra, and flips in the air with her leg out, her heel comes crashing down mere inches away from her cot.

The sound of clapping echoes through her cell, she whips her head to scold the guard for mocking her but finds Noran standing beside the Tau.

“Was never a fan of all that fancy, flippy stuff,” he jokes while he plaits his long blonde hair.

“Only because you can’t do it. Long hair suits you,” she wipes her face with the bottom of her shirt and starts her stretches.

“New life, new hair I guess,” Noran shrugs.

“Are you here to get me out of this cell?”

His face suddenly drops, his whole demeanour becomes stiff and serious, “No, I can’t let you leave here.”

Last edited by T113 on May 06 2015 03:18, edited 3 times in total.
The Future is uncertain. To stagnate is to die!

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#27 » Apr 18 2015 09:25

Excellent, though I am dying to find out more about their "checkered" past together.

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#28 » Apr 18 2015 08:13

T113 Good story, I see your writing has really improved from the time you started In The Vermin's Wake! Hope segments come a little more often though. :P

My personal project besides writing is the Expanded Tau Lexicon, could I get you to elaborate on the following words?

Bellows Tilah his cheeks bright purple and a short glass of Tema’oyan an amber liqueur known for its high narcotic qualities when mixed with T’roi nectar

He takes his robe off and unclasps his Ch’eon’sam revealing his bare slender chest.

Tilah strides into the room holding up two bottles of Guiro’vash, an aromatic, velvet red drink from the now extinct Poctoon’s, a huge grin appears on his face at the sight of his old friend.

Anything in the way of translation or more description would be a help. Especially interested in Ch’eon’sam, is that your creation or does it come from another novel or short story. And just what does a Ch’eon’sam look like? Thanks again. :)
Viro’los gu brath!

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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#29 » Apr 19 2015 06:09

Yeah sorry about the big gaps in between each post. I'll try and not leave i as long next time, although i am on holiday for week soon 'sunning it up' lol.

Tema'oyan: A highly prized and incredibly potent drink that appears as a gold/amber/brown syrup. It has some narcotic qualities that are enhanced by the temperature and speed at which it is consumed.

T'roi Nectar: The T'roi is a flower native to T'au who's nectar can be taken to create a mild and sweet tasting beverage.

You can thank Calmsword for those two, I'm not sure where he got them from, i just found them on a list that he shared with all the authors.

Guiro’vash is something i came up with, it's a Poctoonian red wine, it has a rich, Autolytic (thank you wikipedia for the fancy word ;)) taste and is very strong/

Ch’eon’sam is an item of clothing, it is based on the cheongsam (although i later realised it was woman's garment but shhh lol) it looks a bit like this Image, the one Tilah wears is just a top where as the Ch'eong'sam that Aeryn wears is the female equivalent and ends mid thigh. It looks like this Image. Hope this helps, if you need anymore info just ask
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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#30 » Apr 19 2015 07:53

WOW pictures and everything! :biggrin: Thank you T113 this is just what I was wanting, thanks for the reply! :P
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Re: Into Silence: In the Vermin's Wake

Post#31 » May 05 2015 05:37

I've created some new things in this section so I hope I've explained them properly :/

“What do you mean you can’t LET me leave here?” Aeryn wipes sweat from her eyes, “Is this your choice to keep me in here?”

Noran watches her for a moment as she tries to hide her feelings, of shock, betrayal and disappointment, from him. “Yes,” he replies bluntly after finding no easy to way to give her the news.

Her bright, amber eyes explode into tears, as the last dregs of her will crumble at the betrayal of her old comrade. “How could you do this to me?” she runs at him but the barrier gets in her way, she slams her hand against it, creating an orange crisscross pattern where they connect. “Have you lost all sense of loyalty?”

“I’m doing this for your own good. You’re no longer in the Imperium. All species are accepted here and we’re all treated as equals.”

Aeryn is about to speak but Noran holds his finger up.

“It’s not safe for you to be walking around the ship, for you and everyone else. You’ll be let out when you turn your back on the Imperial way.”

“That’s not that easy for me, you know that.”

“I know and that’s why we’ll help you.”

“And what if you aren’t successful?”

Noran shrugs, “Just think yourself lucky that I’m not you.”


Rrishnourin opens his eyes to a flurry of blues and purples as, like all Feh’rins, he sees the world as violent collisions of colour. A black humanoid figure, with a dull grey sphere nesting in its chest, looms over him, covering the oceanic blue orb that is the lumen globe. Rrishnourin recognises the figure’s energy as his gene mate, Kirshulk. He feels her tendrils tap along his forehead, sending feelings of love and compassion through him.

How are you feeling, my Bonded One?” she asks him, sending chemicals through her tendrils to create the question in his mind.

Seeing the energy of life once again, my Bringer of life.” He wraps his tendrils around her's intimately.

He places his bony white hands on the edge of his cot and pushes himself up, his bones click as each tiny shard warps with his movement. He looks round the room, taking in the energy of each object, and notices he is back in his pod. He steps off his cot, his body has shifted back to the passive form, and walks over to his amniotic tank. Since becoming members of the empire the Feh’rin race has offered their unique ability to read energy to aid the earth caste in repairing damaged vessels but it wasn’t until the creation of the Path Resurgence, and its ability to ‘jump’ through the warp, that they found their true calling, using their pariah gene, they protect the vessel from the denizens of the warp. The tank was built by the combined effort of the earth caste and Feh’rin to amplify their ability to negate the power of the warp.

He hears a ringing sound from behind him. He turns and looks at the royal blue rectangle in the corner of the room that is pulsating purple. The rectangle splits open and a dull, almost invisible to his senses, greyish blue figure steps out of it. The energy reading of the creature tells him the being is El’Ot’Fer’Ya of the Tau race.

“Greetings being designated El’Ot’Fer’Ya of the Water Tau, to what do I owe the visit?” he asks, rubbing the smaller tendrils underneath to communicate, through sound, to the newcomer.

“I hear that you left your pod and gave the Gue’vessas a little visit.” Por’El Ot’Fer’Ta states looking round the almost pitch black room, the bright lumen globe in the centre providing the only illumination.

“You are correct, I saw the glorious power of one shine through the ship. I only wished to bask in it for a short while.”

“But that short visit has caused two members of the ship to be hospitalised, there are reasons we have told you to remain in your pods. I know it is a lot to ask but we cannot risk your presence causing harm to those on board. Remember what happened when your race first came in contact with a Nagi?”

“The creature’s death has been a great sorrow on my race’s conscience.”

“I know but you must stay within the confines of your pod. I regret to inform you that you will be punished if you cause harm to anyone while on board the ship.”

“Duly noted, is that all being designated El’Ot’Fer’Ta of the water Tau?”

“That is all, thank you Rrishnourin.”
The dull grey being shrinks for a moment and then is swallowed by the blue rectangle.


Bursht’s fist slams into Kassiel’s face knocking him back a couple steps and almost making him step outside the centre of the training ring. Upon his return from the meeting with Degarsh, Kassiel had made his way to the human's training area, where he found Duryl Bursht, alone in the room, pulverising a makeshift punch bag. After exchanging a few jovial jibes the pair eventually agreed on a sparring match in the Don’tchakt, an elliptical fighting ring that is divided into five sections giving it the appearance, almost, of a reptilian eye.

The Don’tchakt originates from a Kroot honour duel, where the fighter must force their opponent backwards into a progressively smaller fighting area until eventually they are forced out of the ring and lose. With its increasing difficulty in manoeuvrability the humans adopted the tradition as a training method for unarmed combat.

The pair had removed almost all their clothing except for their black combat trousers and a pair of padded leather gloves.

Kassiel swings his right arm up and out, blocking a left hook from Bursht and making an opening for him to plant his foot into his chest, throwing Bursht back into the centre ring.

“You rely on your fists too much old man,” Kassiel chases him down and swings his leg round at head height.

Bursht blocks the kick with his forearm, slides his arm round to trap the leg and pummels his upper thigh, “Old Man?” he lets go off the leg while quickly striking Kassiel in the chest with the palm of his hand, “I’m a similar age to you.”

Kassiel stumbles back, putting his weight on his weakened leg, and falls over. As Bursht walks over Kassiel thrusts up with his leg and uses the momentum to fling himself up. He feints a jab with his left hand and quickly sweeps round with a right hook, connecting with Bursht’s jaw and drawing the first blood of the fight. “Your hair’s whiter than my grandfather’s.”

Bursht spits a little blood on the mat and wipes the rest from his mouth, causing little speckles of crimson to stain his beard. “It’s a family trait, we’re originally from a planet covered in snow. It meant we could …” his fist connects with the green skull tattoo under Kassiel’s left eye “…hide from our prey better,” he surprises his opponent with a knee to the stomach which forces him back to the middle wedge, “That’s what I was told anyway.”

As he catches his breath back Kassiel parries a flurry of swift, light punches, that were meant to throw him off balance, but the sudden arrival of an almost seven foot tall creature barrelling into him, shoulder first, flings him into the outer point. With nowhere to move his only hope is to cause an opening in the oncoming attacks and throw his opponent back towards the centre ring. His eyes almost glaze over as he lets natural instinct take over, like a cornered animal, he lashes out at the first opportunity he has and grabs Bursht’s head and slams it into the barrier surrounding the ring.

Searing pain flows from his head as the energy from the barrier singes his forehead, his vision blurs for a second. But a second is all Kassiel needs, he is thrown to the ground and his vision is assaulted by flashes of light as Kassiel sends punch after punch to his face.

“Kass that’s enough!” a soft, yet powerful voice halts his fist mid-flight. ”You know you don’t fit like that in Don!”

Kassiel looks round as if waking from a dream.

“You aren’t in your gang anymore.” Riza steps into the ring and drags him off her squad mate. “You wanna fight dirty then Fudd off down to Degarsh’s pits.”

“It’s fine Riza, he just knocked me about a little that’s all,” he takes her hand and stands up “Fighting dirty is what he’s used to.”

“You pick up a few tricks when you have to fight for your life on a daily basis,” Kassiel mumbles with his face buried in a towel, “It was nothing personal.”

He pulls the towel down from his eyes to find Riza’s fist flying towards him.

“Nothing personal,” she replies sarcastically as her soot stained hand snaps across his face.

Kassiel stares at her, dumbfounded, rubbing his cheek as he watches her walk over to the running machine.

“What’s got up her arse?” he asks Bursht when she is out of ear shot.

“Nothing. I think you’ve just got one of those faces.” Bursht bursts into laughter and slaps him on the side of the arm, almost knocking him over, then walks over to RIza, who has started a gentle jog on the runner.

“Everything ok?” he asks while leaning on the side of the machine.

“I’m fine, just a little agitated that’s all.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Areyn coming here doesn’t make sense. I feel it’s going to cause problems for us here. You saw what she did the other day.”

“Yeah I wouldn’t have thought she’d ever leave the Imperium, according to Franklier she seemed pretty desperate to leave.”

The runner slows to a halt and Riza looks at him, “It’s not going to end well, especially someone that was in her position. This environment is the extreme opposite to what she believed in.”

“Then it’s up to us to show her this life is better, teach her that we can live with aliens.”

The machines whirs back to life, her pace increases to a fast run. “Let’s hope she listens to us.”

The sound of stone knocking against stone wakes him. The room is cold and sterile, his skin is slick with sweat and he can feel tiny patches of something stuck to his arms and chest. He opens his mouth, his lips are dry and cracked and the taste of iron assaults his taste buds. He tries to speak but his voice doesn’t come to him.

Where am I?” he asks himself, unable to open his eyes. He tries to sit up but a shooting pain in his stomach paralyses his movements, he thinks back to the last thing he can remember. The image of a cloaked figure looming over him appears in his mind’s eye along with the sensation of thin fingers tapping his face.


Tilah paces his room, in the back of his mind he hears a harsh, howling wind blow. He focuses his attention on the data slate that he acquired from one of the lower rank Por’s. He sifts through the data of all the stock that is currently available in the mess halls, trying to keep his attention on, what was once, one of his favourite subjects. Drink.

“3000 bottles of T’car blue, 500 crates of Tarallian mead and only 3 bottles of Jui’yel wine,” he sighs and sits behind his desk “3?! Can’t believe they only stocked a small amount of it. Do they not appreciate the subtle delicacy of such an underappreciate beverage? If I had realised how rare it was on here I would have rationed the bottles I had a little more.” He opens a draw on the desk and places a bottle of a cobalt blue liquid on the desk. His mouth waters a little as he stares at the bottle, the liquid dances in the bottle and the light reflecting off it gives it a green hue. He reaches out with a shaky hand and gently brushes a bony, pale blue, finger down the neck of the bottle.

A pair of ash grey hands caress his shoulders causing him to pull his hand back in terror. He looks round but he is alone in his room. He jumps from his seat, dropping the data slate on the floor, and plants his hands on his desk as his breathing becomes heavy. With trembling hands he pours himself a cup of Pech’café but drops the cup, shattering it to pieces when it hits the desk, before it can touch his lips. In a sudden fit of rage he grabs the underside of his desk and flips it over, snapping the wiring that was connecting the desk’s system to the ship, as it lifts off the floor.

The faint sound of distant laughter echoes through his mind like a killer haunted by his guilt. His breathing comes in short harsh rasps. His attention is drawn to the sound of the bottle rolling along the floor towards the window, like a zombie chasing a crippled meal he staggers over to the bottle, a small goblet of drool dribbles down his dry, cracked lips. Without paying attention to where he is going his head clunks on the view port of his office, waking him from his stupor. He picks the bottle and stares out at the void and watches the several rings at the tip of the ship slowly rotating. The familiar ‘face’ appears behind his reflection, every waking Dec after the Path Resurgence made its first official jump the phantom creature has haunted him, even in sleep he is consumed with horrific nightmares involving … it. He is about to turn to face the nothingness behind him but the reflection vanishes as, in the distance, a bright, violent explosion erupts.
The Future is uncertain. To stagnate is to die!

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Re: Into Silence: Nightmare's for the dreamless

Post#32 » May 29 2015 06:57

Originally i had planned for the story to be one whole piece but since we have new authors starting up we've decided to do the story in arcs and although i liked the title 'in the vermin's wake' it turned out it wasn't relevant for how the arc turned out, but I'll be using it in the future. Now i feel like i need to apologise for somethings (or maybe make excuses ;) :dead: :sad: ) first thing my story has kinda gone all over the place my original idea was for it to go down a certain path but, after discussing things with my fellow authors, the story kinda fell down the hill beside said path which is my own fault for making assumptions and kinda staying quiet during the early group developments. Secondly the quality, in the early parts we had a 2 week (i think) posting schedule and since i didn't have a great amount of time to write a lot of it was rushed, it also meant i rushed to get to a certain point then upon reaching that point unforeseen circumstances happened and i was stuck in a place and not really able to go anywhere, although I am extremely grateful for the opportunity to create some good character moments (drunken bar scenes are always great :D ) i feel the overall posts were lacking in substance so sorry if I've disappointed anyone with a mediocre story. Thank you for being patient.

If you've enjoyed what I've been posting then please ignore the above and continue to read on in delightful merriment :biggrin:


He wakes. His mind is drawn to the sensation of a great corruption that tugs at his soul. His skin tingles, as if thousands of tiny insects are crawling all over him. He thinks back to the teachings of his master “She is hunting, she is thirsty,” an ethereal voice whispers to him.

In his short life he has walked paths that few, if any of his kind, has walked before. The ranger saw a gift in him. The dangers and corruption of the gift had haunted his orphaned life, had almost lead him to a fate worse than death, until the ranger had rescued him from the destroyed obsidian vessel.
“They will bring her here, she will drink their souls,” the hollow, wraithlike voice whispers to him. He knows deep down that he has nothing to fear, the tall cloaked ones will keep her from them, but he is still scared.

Clack, clack.

The sound of the stones echo through his mind again, he tries to focus on them. Maybe the focus will ease his fears, maybe it will guide him out of this dark, half dead state. The echoes get louder, as if they are coming from right beside him. The smell of harsh chemicals assault his nose, the tingling of his skin turns cold and the tiny pads press on his body once again.

Franklier pops the lid back on the healing balm and puts it back in the draw of his desk. He leans back in his chair and rubs the balm into the joint, where machine meets flesh, on his shoulder. Aang’ma had recently visited him to perform a routine maintenance on his arm and legs and to recalibrate his optic lens. The stocky, unsociable mechanic made the work, and the atmosphere, more uncomfortable than necessary. After refitting the bionic limb the top of his arm had become red and sore, a pain he has become familiar with, but luckily, with the help of some of the chefs, he has made an herbal balm to numb the pain.

After replacing his shirt he looks round the empty ward, the medical drones float around as they clean the already sterile room. Franklier sighs and starts tapping his fingers on his desk, the Fio’tak digits clang rhythmically on the cold, white metal. His need for a smoke is always at its worse during times of inaction as it always makes him miss the constant warring that was present in the Imperium. At least during that time he had things to do, even if the stress of the work was the reason he started smoking in the first place, but now he spends most of his time watching beautifully crafted machines float about doing most of his work for him. He hardly ever has mortal help in the ward anymore, the Path Resurgence has provided him with everything – everything except company – the facility is the finest he has ever had but it hasn’t provided him with everything he needs.

“You know you’re the closest thing to a friend in here,” he says to a drone as it hovers passed him. The drone is fitted with the simplest AI, made only to perform whatever task it is given, and so ignores the comment and continues its business.

His, real, hand becomes twitchy, he slams his fist into his desk and stands up, the double mechanical joints of his legs make him a little unstable as he is still getting used to the Tau’s manufactured prosthetics. He looks down and chuckles as he sees hooves where his feet should be. He leaves his small office and makes his way to the infirmary to check on the unconscious psykers.

He is met with the regular hustle and bustle of people frantically darting around the corridors as they all go about their duties. He passes a short, brown haired woman carrying a box full of tools, her tan overalls have spotting’s of oil stains and her natural scent is masked behind a thick reek of promethium, she gives him a wink as she walks past. Her emerald eyes strike a stunning resemblance to his, now deceased, wife. He pauses for a second as memories of her flow through his mind, he closes his eye as a tear runs down his face.

“Not now Hauner,” he tells himself.

He pulls a rag, which he always has tucked into his belt, and wipes his cheek dry. He clears his throat then quickly hops out of the way of a small group of security guards rushing from out of nowhere, he watches them disappear round a corner than continues to the infirmary.


The feeling of dread will not leave him, he tries to think of other things but it is always there, in the back of his thoughts. There is a name at the edge of his consciousness, he focuses on it but it alludes him. The familiar clacking sound continues close by, echoes of reality pulsate with every strike. A sudden thin pin prick of light pierces the darkness. He can hear a familiar gruff voice talking, it is muffled as if he is hearing it from underwater. The light spreads out horizontally, he realises his eyes are opening for the first time in what feels like a lifetime to him. For a short moment all he can see is the blinding white light but as they focuses he sees a semi mechanical man stood at the end of a purple humanoid creature.

“Welcome back,” the grizzled man says. His deep, husky voice sounds familiar to him.

“Who….” Before he could finish the question, his sense of self returns to him. “What’s going on?” Calurit asks his grey eyes wide with fear.

“Can’t you remember? You had a run in with the Feh’rins. You’ve been unconscious for the past 3 days.”

Cal looks over to Hasah, who is in the bed next him, and notices that he is rolling two red stones in his hand. “Do you feel it?”

The Kroot looks at him and nods.

“What?” Franklier asks, ignorant to what Calurit had sensed while semi unconscious.

“There’s a twisted presence on its way.”


They had been talking for half an hour and she still couldn’t get her head around what he was telling her. She was member of the Imperium, one of the Emperor’s finest, she was not meant to be here, had her circumstances been different she wouldn’t be. But this is her life now. She needs to accept the teachings her former comrade is giving her, this is the only place where she can be safe.

“How can the galaxy survive if all we do is kill each other?” Noran says as he pulls a chair up to barrier “Our arrogance has led our race to be genocidal. According to Cal, many of the races out there are our cousins.” He takes a seat and leans forward, pressing his fingers together and stares at her with his piercing, blue eyes.

“What?” is all Aeryn can say, the thought of mankind having any link to Xenos sounds absurd to her.

“There was a race known as the Old Ones, they were powerful creatures …”

“Where’s this going?”

“… They created almost all the races in the galaxy.”

Aeryn stares at him blankly for a few seconds, she is about to reply but a commotion at the end of the room draws her attention. “What’s going on?”

“Looks like they’re bringing someone in.” Noran leans back in his chair and watches as a group of heavily armoured Au’taalians lead, what appears to be, a black armoured Eldar into a cell. “Well that’s unexpected.”

Tilah screams, fear and anger violently mix within him making the noise sound almost daemonic, and launches a chair across the room at the phantom. The image of the hooded figure erupts into a puff of thick black smoke that quickly vanishes as the chair makes contact with it.

Tilah falls back into the window and slides down it. His breathing becomes heavy and frantic, his eyes dart about the wreckage that is his office looking for the phantom to reappear. He shivers, frost begins to build in the corners of the window above him, and his breath turns to mist with each icy exhale. An invisible hand gently and seductively brushes along his cheek, making him inhale sharply, leaving a warm, intimate sensation on his face. A soft, comforting voice whispers in his ear in an alien language. Although he doesn’t know the language he can tell the voice is offering him sanctuary, knowledge, power, everything any mortal could desire.

Images of thousands of Gue’las kneeling before him enter his mind, behind them is a ruined city set ablaze. He is sat on a throne made from the bones of those from a lost empire, the crowd raise their hands in rejoice. A sudden and enormous surge of sickening power erupts from behind him, the skin on the Gue’las begins to melt then their bodies ignite in a flurry of bright, nauseating colours. He holds his hand up to shield his eyes, his fingers begin to twitch then something starts to crawl under his skin. The voice becomes harsh and raspy, a warmth is felt on the back of his head. He wants to turn round but his attention is held on the thing in his hand.

The sound of his skin tearing hits him before the pain does, he cries out as his middle finger splits down the middle, making his hand look like a blue version of the Gue’las. A small, ebony spike pokes out from the cleft of his hand. The voice begins to laugh behind him but still he can’t turn around. He begins to scream as the spike gets bigger, ripping his arm apart from the inside and turning it into a disgusting pincer type claw. His eyes begin to burn, the last thing he sees are monstrous, unnatural creatures climbing out of the smouldering corpses.

“No!” he screams to the empty room. Amethyst tears streak down his face “Please, no more.”

He looks down at his hand and sees the familiar three fingered anatomy that is his birth right. In the corner of the room the fallen holo projector spits into life and the figure of a female ethereal appears on its side.

"Brothers and sisters, friends, comrades, I bid you greetings in the name of the Greater Good. We stand together, we stand together before the threshold of the Silence."

Her voice battles that of his unknown assailant as reality and delirium fight for control. He rocks back and forth as the dueling voices overwhelm him. Tears run down his face as his will slowly falls away, desperately his shaking hands feel for something, anything, to grant him a release. He searches for something sharp, something hard, something lethal but his hand lands on the half empty bottle of Jui’yel. He lifts the bottle and watches the glistening, cobalt liquid dance enticingly in its container.

Without a second thought he empties the contents of the bottle, hoping for release in its intoxicating numbness.

The Future is uncertain. To stagnate is to die!

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Re: Into Silence: Nightmare's for the dreamless

Post#33 » Jun 05 2015 11:40

I think what's most interesting about your writing style is how it has evolved over the course of this story. I get a sense of some of those old Star Wars novels I used to buy, before episode 1 made everything shiny and child friendly there was a grimness that I'm starting to see in your work. Good job.
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Re: Into Silence: Nightmare's for the dreamless

Post#34 » Jun 05 2015 11:45

Thanks calmsword,

It had to go grim, it's not 40k if it's not grim dark lol. But not rushing myself to try and get a post out every 2-3 week gave me the breathing space to develop my characters.
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