Jamesyco

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝

Same @DeadDrop

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝

Definitely sounds interesting; I'm in.

From Ashes We Rise : The Imperium Is Born

Veharr

Wastes

Sand had fallen over the pathways of those fleeing war; he was thankful for that. He tightened a cloth around his face and moved it underneath his cloak, tucking it in so it would hopefully stay in place. Within his hands, he carried a long knotted branch that acted as a staff, something more suited for this journey as it gave more surface area than his usual walking stick. It helped him move, not that it kept him up, in his age, he didn't need that much, but it did keep the sand from overcoming him when it was getting out of hand. He was thankful for that, having to travel from his home more and more, from the safety of the mountain home. It was a lonely mountain, there were several nearby, and it once sat upon ancient borders. But it would be safe; they were old mountains, and a few days without him there would be fine. He hoped the sand and the runes he created would conceal his flock from all but the strongest of psykers. It should last until he arrives back; if not, the sand was a good way to elude all but those with luck upon their side.

Vaharr pulled a small mask down just a tad as he began to survey the endless tides of sand in front of him. He pulled out his telescopic glass and placed it over his walking stick for stability. He smiled as he didn't need it but enjoyed using the old device. He scanned the horizon end to end without seeing much. But he saw the clouds of war off in the distance, and it was a revolting sight, in his opinion. The powers used he saw like stars in the sky, and it blinded him with the sorcery used. He held onto the staff as he coughed up bile. It made him nauseous, and he felt hate rise in the bowels of his stomach as he closed the glass and tucked it into his robes again. He spits out the rest of the bile that clung to the inside of his throat and cheeks before pulling up the cloak around him. He pulled the cloth around him again to tighten it, and he stared out as he pulled goggles low to cover his eyes. Then another cloth to keep the sun from glinting off of them and to keep the light from his eyes.

"Guide me... I shall save as many as I can for your service... send me a sign savior of mankind, and you shall have a hundred to rebuild in your name... Send me a village, and I shall give you a city, great one..." he whispered in chorus with faith, "Send me in the direction of a soul, and you shall have a thousand. This one who travels these lands shall bring all who come to your flock back into your light Khader savior of my soul, Great Emperor, and slayer of the ancient god. I shall try to return all that you have given me since I have walked the sands of this world."

WH40k: Warspite - An Astra Militarum Adventure [Currently Full]

Here o/

From Ashes We Rise: The Galaxy At Large

Belivahnn

Part Two

When I was young, my father spoke of titans, gods, and giants. Beings that controlled the world we lived on, shaped it, and created it. Some were good, some were evil, and the titans were primordial. Those who came before the gods were kind, but most have long since been dead. To warriors with long ears and heads, they were gods, and they still worship those they believed to be alive. The gods, those my husband's people worship, and to them, well, most of them, benevolent, but some of the clergy have fallen upon dark ways. Jihad and conviction have made these priests bloodthirsty. When I look to my husband's land and then my homeland, that is why so many of my people are now gone. His father, jihad, and ritual death are a corruption that spreads across the lands, and if it were not for larger kingdoms, it would encompass the world. I was lucky he found me, but now I am a part of a game I do not like.

When I look back to when I was young, I remember stories, many of them of these gods, titans, and giants fighting. The three had been around since the beginning of time, and many other divine beings spread out, but those three were the most important, for they controlled the world. They controlled the universe; they allowed time to flow and to be something. But they work in mysterious ways.

The titans and the gods have always been in a battle, and they sing to those like the witches, the wizards, the priests, my father. They sing to those who listen, and I've tried to listen, but I cannot hear them. I cannot hear anything besides emptiness; those who use the wyrd, or magic, had a rough time with her, some screamed when near her, others just got headaches, and a lot of people got headaches around her, but my husband saw me and believed I was his savior. I changed him, he was supposedly cruel, but I changed him. He saw everything and needed it. It was everything, and he believed that I was the deceiver of his faith, but he believed something besides that. In my faith and in his, several events are similar. One is that of the son of the giant; one is that of hope, and one is that of destruction.

His father, the priesthood of his father's lands, they called me the deceiver. Maybe I am; maybe I am the mother. Tonight, I talked my husband and my guard into walking with us. There is a gap in the line where my husband's guard is holding, and they will let us slip in through. The fire didn't touch me, and I won't let it touch them. We have reinforcements should anything go wrong, but it shouldn't; prophecy dictates this happens either way. I must do this, and I have heard his wailing since I came here. Few have, now I shall stop it.

---

It was dark three hours after the sun dropped down below the horizon. We went out in leather and dark cloth, hidden in the clouded ash sky from what little the moon shined down upon the world. When we reached the wall, we passed underneath a stone archway that was to have a door emplaced eventually on the outside, while the inside facing the fire would be a blanket of flat stone slabs, but those weren't there yet. We entered the fire zone, and it was as if a tunnel was formed in the fire, but it was for me alone. Those behind me walked through hell, they all would, but they would regardless of what would happen.

My husband, and our retinue that marched out with me heard the screams of the dead, and they saw ashes; they saw death and destruction. All I saw were ash statues littering the ground, running, holding each other in fear. They saw much more in flames, hounds were heard all around us, and tiny flickers of light followed us like wolves prowling. Maybe we were being hunted, or maybe they were guardians but were they protecting the wailing child or us? We went through as quickly as we could into the wood; the heat got intense, and I felt it, every moment of it. It began to burn, it began to feel like I was walking through hell, but they continued to move forward toward the crying.

Then it hit, fire hit us, it felt like an inferno, and the screaming stopped. I looked around and saw everything, and the firestorm continued around us, but we were also flames. We were walking flame. We continued to move forward, and we were flame. It was nothing before seen. The fire couldn't touch me, I was more of a walking ball of flame, but the others were flame; their armor and life were flames. They saw all in the world; all I saw was my son. I reached out forward, and I saw him, a perfect son. He had thick brown and red hair like he was born out of the fire. He was a large babe. I took him in my arms, and the crying stopped. I looked into my son's eyes and felt my child inside me kick, a family at once.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and we had to go. I turned, and we started running. The fire subsided around us, and we burst like phoenixes through the forest. We continued to move swiftly, quicker than we came in. We got to the town and started low to the ground; I was thankful that the boy was no longer crying. We would be heard across the fields, but we continued back to the wall. I heard fighting, so much fighting. We were caught; the prophecy was broken by her and the others. Then the crying began again, and my husband's soldiers lit up like warriors of the night. The night was lit by fire. I listened for hours as a fight raged; those sixteen soldiers and my husband were warriors like nothing. They were fast, and their blades cut through steel and iron like it was nothing. The soldiers of his father, of his faith, were nothing against just those seventeen men.

The men protecting the wall were good warriors as well, and others joined in. It became a battle of the ages as my husband fought and bled for our family. Hours went by, it seemed, and I was standing there listening to crying. It died down sometime around noon, with the firestorm, and with so many men. Two thousand, maybe two and a half thousand, were dead. Plenty more were dying; almost every order and army lost men, and almost all were gone. There were around sixty left in total. When the orders from the north came, they joined the reconstruction. A new fort and city are to be built in the north.

Belivahnn would be the name of this settlement.

The name of her fathers house, it was a fitting name. But, there was a new house born with her son.

---

Part 3. etc.

WH40k: Warspite - An Astra Militarum Adventure

Yaaaaaaaa

WH40k: Warspite - An Astra Militarum Adventure

Anything for the God Emperor!

WH40k: Warspite - An Astra Militarum Adventure

@JbAlways brother

Into the Warp : Before Chaos

I was hoping to get this going, but we didn't get the people and those that were interested I've got no clue where they are. I was thinking of running a ttg from this again.@Wampower

From Ashes We Rise: The Galaxy At Large

Belivahnn

Part one

The concept of heaven is a place where those above look down upon those walking upon the Earth. It is a concept, many cultures and religions have their own forms of heaven and they have different meanings, different trials to reach, and different names, titles, and depictions. It's where the gods look down upon the mortals they guide, it's where souls go to rest. In some cultures, it is the opposite of hell. A perfect place where souls rest after their praise and lives have been fulfilled to the best of their abilities. People live, fight, love, and die. When a soul goes to heaven, it knows it has lived life to its best and has chosen a pathway guided by belief.

But what happens when the sky above you is flames when the heavens have decided to throw wroth and hate? Is it something you have done, not likely, but priests, demagogues, prophets, and all of the other loud voices may say that it was you, or it was your neighbor, the next town over, some barbaric tribe; blame is all that it is, for sometimes it is nothing but meteors falling from the sky.

But over the skies of Belivahnn, they were alight with fire, rock, dust vaporizing and high speeds as it entered the planet's orbit, burning up in the atmosphere. Still, there was one object that was as bright as a star in the pitch-black sky, it trailed around the planet as it had made several orbiting loops around the planet before getting caught by gravity and bringing a portion of the planet's rocky ring down with it. It circled the planet for an entire day before it began to speed up, and when it finally began its final approach to the surface of the planet, it and the dust it dragged with it began to form wings in the sky as it made its way towards one of the planets few forests in the midlands.

The Knegh forest is a relatively small forest, but it was surrounded by one of the few areas north of most of the kings' reach. Some two hundred people lived there in relatively peaceful lives, but for in beasts, random bandits, or sometimes even a taxation party from one of the southern kingdoms. But tonight, it was a fire. At first, when the artificial sun had died out for a minute after, the wings of death descended from the heavens. The meteor shower had ended, and an older vagabond was yelling about how the son of the planet was born, one who would become a king, a warrior lord, a crusader, a horse rider. The man spoke a thousand words, used through the orders, the tribes, the kingdoms, and the wanderers for terms of endearment that could possibly be used to quell an angered god. Many thought of him as crazy; only a few traders that were in town that night would believe him after that night. Johannesburg was soon to be a grave memory for them, as fire would broil their dreams into nightmares each night after.

When many of the villagers had arrived home, and the vagabond was seen leaving the town, an echo came from the small hills to the east overlooking a lake that separated the village from the forest as a light began to appear. It turned into a thunderous boom as a flash lit the sky back up for a minute and the towering trees of Knegh turned into torches in the night. Next, the creatures of the forest began to flee; those that had made their homes there, those that lived all of their lives under the leaves of the canopy, fled in droves. Heads bobbed in the crystalline reflections in the water as they tried to swim the cold lake water towards the nearest shelter, many of these creatures would drown, but those chose that over being suffocated in smoke or burning in the charnel house of their once home. The town's lights flickered like the safety of a warm sun. There were others that fled from the treelines into fields of grain and vegetables churning the tilled earth like the season had started, but their goal was to run as far as possible from their burning homes.

The villagers not within a gated area or their homes were trampled, cut down by hordes of animals fleeing and searching for shelter. Those that opened their doors in confusion had similar things happen to them as creatures ranging from large quadrupedal beasts to small creatures the size of small dogs and large birds sought a way to hide from the blaze across the lake. As soon as the beasts came, many of them were gone, many others were hiding inside homes, barns, or any shelter they could find. Most were too scared to eat upon the dead carcasses of other animals, people, or stockpiles of grain and food that littered barns and granaries throughout the village. But that only led to something worse because as the edges of the forest began to burn, so did the fields beside it. The thin wooden fencing acts like the wire connecting fire to fields, the bright red paint made from berries known to grow the larve of a local pollinator acting like the promethium fuel inside an engine. Fields went up in flame, the buildings closest to the forest became infernos, and those inside fled to the best of their abilities before being choked out of air, as screaming turned to deaf cries of agony as charred hands scratched for throats. Few made it to the road, but they almost all collapsed, only those who were strong, and those who were loved by the strong made it farther.

Next, the first grainery was caught in flames, and it set off like a bomb as the grains dust set off a low-yield explosive. Debris and fire spread quickly across roads, more fields, and homes. Several tried to take pumps to flood their fields; in hindsight, it was a good idea but done far to late in the catastrophe that was taking place. Buildings burned, screams rang out, people fled, some stayed and tried to fight, tried to save their homes, but they were soon consumed by fire, and by the end of the night, as buildings went up in fire. But even once the buildings, the people, the fields, and the trees were charred, they stayed alight. This fire burned quietly without fuel, but it persisted and burned.

Johannesburg burned, and many of its people lay charred in ashe-covered streets, hugging each other in beds, closets, or underneath the hooves, paws, and claws of beasts that hid with their corpses from their eventual downfall of being trapped inside a burning hut. Out of the inhabitants, maybe thirty survived, five traders and an old man who was found nearly crushed outside of the village. The survivors began to migrate when they found him. They once thought he was delusional, but now they saw that he likely spoke the truth, and they were ashamed at whatever misgivings they gave a maligned god. A small camp was set up in stony soil, it was one of the areas they could reach that night that was not alight with the wildfires that were spreading at random through the grasslands. And that next night, they saw the forest that still burned and raged with a firestorm the likes that had not been seen in likely a hundred years of the planet. Here in these camps, they sent several people back to collect whatever they could and search for food. That, though, was nearly impossible as the fires reached out and protected themselves and the lands before them like a child lashing out, or reaching out for something. The fires created wails as the winds blew past those who stared into what used to be their homeland, now it was home to something else. Within several days, the first orders arrived along with a caravan of soldiers from the nearest kingdom of Ukrye. They saw what was happening, and began to cordon off what was left of the forest and around the still-burning areas of the grasslands.

First, a Seargent at arms, along with several of his soldiers were asked to scout and enter the area, they were padded thick with metals, and damp cloths. They were tasked to search for survivors within the village, should there be any, to find any sign of what was happening. They also sent for both a seer, and for one who uses the wyrd. Those that entered the zone, were gone for days, beyond the sight of the veil of flames, but they did come back, and several short. There were three instead of twenty, and one was not of the party, but of a living girl covered in burns, and for most they would think of her as a charred corpse, if not for the screaming.

Once inside the tents and away from the screaming girl, the two men reported that the forest was still alight as if it had only started to burn. The lake would be one of the safest options for approaching the forest, but they would not have protection from the fire as they would likely have to swim, as wood and anything flammable grew hot and would start to burn without warning or reason. By that time, several orders had arrived, and many others had begun to journey to the firestorm, both to see it, and to begin building a wall to protect from it. It was as if hell had come to earth, and it spread a plague that had only started when it landed for the beasts had began to drive across the plains rapidly, and almost unchecked if it was not for the tribes, the orders, and walls that were built to help contain and control the flow of grazing animals in the south lands. They were a threat, but this was also one, but it could be contained whatever it was until the beasts were dealt with or at least partially dealt with.

---

The first part of the wall was built in two months; while a deep trench was made, a wall was needed to contain the firestorm, considered the Johannes line, and the first gate Johannesburg after the town that once stood a mile to its west. It was functional, there were three buildings, two to tend to those who get too close to the fiery embrace, and one to store supplies to keep them out of the weather. They were all built of stone, everything had to, or else it would burn; even the seasoned wood was not enough to keep flames from enveloping it. They had learned that the hard way several days into the construction of the trench as a barracks of southern laborers was killed in minutes by a flame that hugged the ground around it. It took three days for the fires to be brought down around the building, and by then all that remained were the flakes of that inside.

Several more excursions were made inside the storm, most of them returning similar to those that came prior; even a seer entered, only to be doused by flames moments later. But those who returned alive said it sounded as if there was a child wailing in pain or from lack of attention. The death cry of so many sounded like a haunting reminder of life and death. It was a dreary thing.

"Marek," Aleksandr said, "the storm's cries are growing louder; could something be coming?"

"I do not know, but whatever it is, I bet it is heading to finish off that girl... do none of the villagers know who she is, have any recognition of her?" Marek had replied, looking back at the younger noble. "One of them has to; it's a small town, maybe once she's calmed down and her voice has had time to rest, someone can tell who she is, or she can tell us her name."

"I don't think anyone could, her screams are filled with agony and pain... I hope the officer's barracks are made soon; my betrothed is coming from the south. As much as I would like to walk several leagues to the wall each morning, I would rather live beside it in stone; that way, I don't have to replace my tent again." Aleksandr finished. "Maybe the mender will be able to help her regain her voice... but right now, I think she won't survive much longer."

From the edges of the fire came a whimper as if someone was out there, crying. It did sound like crying as if someone was far within the depths of the firestorm. The two men stared and took deep breaths.

"I will have someone come up in a minute to replace us and start watching over this part of the line. Right now." Aleksandr said, listening to the wailing; he hated that noise, and it reminded him of a child dying of some illness. He wanted to get to somewhere he couldn't hear it. "Tomorrow, after my wife should be here, and I will head off into the firestorm..."

Marek looked back at him, "it's finally your turn; at least you get to see your wife one last time."

"Oh, I'll survive, just a touch of fire, and I have the family mage coming with me... What could possibly go wrong?"

---

The next day, Lady Thelis of House Aleksandr arrived with a caravan of fifty armed men, and a young man, maybe the age of twenty, but possibly younger, around his head was a round cage, and through his palms were spikes of lead. His head twitched, and he moved his hands to the cage as the spikes barely touched his head.

"Screaming... all I hear is screaming, want, need... It is like a child born to a dying mother who can't hold up a babe." the psyker dropped to his knees, moving his hands to rip the spikes out of his hands and then begin to scratch and tear for the cage around his head, "Please take it off... Take it off!" the man screamed as he went into shock, his body spasming as he jerked, blood gleaming from his slick hands, and his head stuck in the cage protecting the vital bits.

Two men were atop him, holding him tightly to the ground so he could not hurt anything else, but behind them the fire started to rage and burn. They were trying to keep the mage alive, and trying to keep others around him to stay alive as well, the elder seer who had come had perished in a ball of fire that immolated thirty men who were walking by him when the firestorm last surged.

Aleksandr ran over with a small contingent of men, Marek and several others tailing behind with their own retinues from the hierarchies of different orders that had come to stop the firestorm and whatever was inside. This time, the camp and those around the mage were lucky. The fire on the opposing side of the wall died down for a moment.

"Thelis... I am glad to see you..."

"And I am glad to see you alive; what is on the other side of the wall, a deamon?" the woman asked her husband, "No... I do not know, I was going to set out inside with the magi, but... I will wait for him to be calmed before I enter the fire. It gives me time to see you once again... Marek will look over this, but I wish to show you what I will be walking into. You can see a farmhouse, but that is as far as you can see... It was owned by a man named Tom."

When both of them arrived at the top of the wall, the woman stared at the veil of fire that slowly made it's way towards them, it was watching them, it was alive. Aleksandr did not realize that until his wife was up with him, and he took a deep breath turning towards his right. He stopped in horror at what he saw, the woman's hand was up raised towards the fire as it reached out for her. It touched her, and the fire dissipated entirely from the land and the stream of fire that reached her. The glow was gone to the forest in the distance, and only the early morning sky was alight.

Behind both of them was an old man.

"Go... find the son of our world... for he will bring our world into a new age one day, one that none of us will have ever thought of..." the old prophet said, "Go together... he will reach out for you..." An old clouded eye seemed to turn towards the woman, "But soon, he will need someone to raise him to be a warrior... and he will become one... the warrior our world needs... A king..."