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come on, somebody else post some pics. we can at least get a half-decent art thread going if nothing else.

He woke.

The din of battle - falling bombardment shells, the ionising crack of lasguns, the gurgling scream of a gutted soldier - completely surrounded him, drowning out all other thought. The tang of iron and ozone stung at his throat, and dust choked his lungs. He seized his lasgun and rushed back into the trench, stumbling over the body of his commanding officer - now long dead, the officer's torso was but a pulpy residue spattered against the trench wall. Line 848 Gamma, Tertius quadrant - eight metres ahead of his posting last rotation; eight metres closer to the enemy guns; eight metres of blood and bone and fire, the corpses of his brothers reinforcing the barricades that slowed the onslaught of the arch-enemy's mortal forces.

He dragged another corpse out of his way, taking its place at the lip of the ditch and laying down a lane of fire across the barren field between the enemy trenches and theirs. The survivors of his platoon were doing the same, aiming at nothing in particular but knowing that every shot fired was vital to the war effort. General Graft had told them personally - or at least a fancy envoy had; they were the only thing holding back the wave of heretics that sought to bring ruination to their world. Conscripted by the thousands, they performed their duty to the Emperor in these fields, burnt clean of life and pockmarked with hundreds of craters as far as the eye could see, scourged by the heretic bombardments and salted with the blood of Imperial and heretic alike. So they had done for months, staving off invasion on their front of the war.

Reinforcements had yet to come, but were promised to relieve them soon; they just had to fight for a little while longer, a veritable blink of the eye compared to the time they had already spent in the trenches.

>>44251430

He fired again, the voice keeping him sharp and aware. It knew when the enemy would come, and where to shoot, so he listened to it. He liked the voice. It kept him alive, unlike so many of his brothers. But they were weak; the weakest chain will always be broken first. Again he shot, a scream accompanying his burst of lasfire this time. Kill, the voice said. So he killed, raking a charging figure with a trio of las-bolts. Something flashed in his peripheral, and he span on his side, almost firing on the soldier beside him. Nothing, it seemed; a trick of the eye.

Blood, the voice whined. There was blood everywhere; he was caked in layers of it, and torrents of it sloshed on the floor of the trench. A whizzing slug caught him in the shoulder, and blood ran from the wound. His eyes were held on it, captivated by the dripping liquid; why had he not seen this before? It was like nothing he had ever seen before, despite blood covering everything in his new life. He wanted to see this again. He needed to... He shook his head and turned back to the dead fields, firing a steady stream of energy towards the enemy lines, listening to the voice whisper to him. For hours he kept in the trench; sometimes resting when the enemy guns fell quiet, sometimes firing faster than ever to push back a surprise attack. Always the voice saved him, telling him where to look, when to duck, where to shoot that would cause the enemy to bleed out in agony.

Finally he was allowed sleep, how long he had spent in the trench was impossible to tell; but it had seemed like an eternity, yet he yearned to return to the fray, to spill the enemy's traitorous blood in holy battle. Yet his body refused his yearning, quickly falling unconscious atop the bunker's food rations.

>>44251451

He woke.

The din of battle - the staccato pop of stub guns, the dull impact of bullets striking home, the splash of heavy boots in blood-laced mud - was frightfully missing. Everything was subdued; the sting of impact powder smelling distant somehow, and the ever-present stink of blood seemed to be all but gone. He panicked; what had happened, how could he fix it? The voice told him, and he listened. He rushed to the trenches, sliding back into the divvy in the trench wall and firing into the dead fields, searching for something to kill.

Kill, the voice whispered. He tried to listen, but nothing living trod the fields.

Kill! the voice said again, angry at his disobedience. He fired pack after pack into the fields, hitting nothing but dust and corpses.

Kill! it shouted, Kill! The soldier to his right slid out from the trench wall, grabbing him and dragging him back. The soldier's mouth worked at him, and he could feel his breath against his face, but he could hear nothing. Nothing but the voice. KILL! Again and again, it shouted. KILL! He shoved the soldier back and brought his lasgun to bear against him. KILL! The soldier batted the gun away, drawing a thick knife and plunging it towards his chest. KILL! The voice told him to kill, and he finally listened. He grabbed the knife by the blade, incredibly strength stilling its motion as blood spilled freely from his hand. He yanked it from the soldier's grasp and stabbed it into his throat, ripping down through the flesh of his neck and halfway into the soldier's chest. KILL! the voice shouted; he could hear nothing but the voice, nothing mattered but the voice. The soldier fell back, blood spilling like a tidal wave from the gaping wound in his chest. But it was not enough, he needed more!

>>44251461

He fell on the next soldier in the line, gutting him and spilling his blood across the trench floor, to join that of his brother-soldier. The voice screamed inside his skull, threatening to burst it from the inside, and he tried to still it. Another of his brothers fell under his knife, his face mutilated beyond recognition. Still the voice screamed, and still he killed his brothers; a wave of blood filling the bottom of the ditch and staining its walls. He could not remember when he started killing, or when he stopped, but nothing remained in his trench but the bloody remains of those he called brothers.

He was victorious, he had killed and let an ocean of blood, but still the voice screamed.

He cut into his face with the bloody blade, carving away at his flesh, trying to cut the voice out of his head. A pattern cut its way into his skin, rivulets of blood coursing into his eyes and mouth, a sigil mirroring those he had seen on hundreds of the enemy forces. But still the voice screamed, louder than before, he could not think of anything but the voice. Words formed on his lips at the voice's behest, and a primal scream tore from his throat. Blood for the blood god! Skulls for the skull throne!

He woke.

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As you walk to the canal, you find a seagull walking way out of its normal path. As it approaches, it becomes clear that this bird wasn't wild. It wore a harness and headphones, just like it was a person. You attempt to touch it, but as soon as you reach your hand, it flaps off.
Further ahead by the canal is Lani, the strange white-haired girl you met last week about treasures under the canal. Apparently, she said her family runs a whole treasure-hunting business, and considering she's still in middle school, she decided to work on the canals. Treasure hunting always sounded cool to you, so when she asked for a partner, you didn't have much reason to refuse.

"Yay!" Lani cheers as she notices your approach. "I'm glad it's good out today. Last time I tried to get some help, it started raining on us. Ruined everything!" She pouts.
You merely humor her in laughter and admire her spirit in treasure hunting.
"So...um," she starts, "I know I said we're looking for treasure, but...well, there's another thing I didn't mention." You ask what it could be that couldn't be discussed during class. "I know it's probably gonna sound ridiculous, but...well, sometimes, I have to fight monsters. Like zombies from under the sea and the likes! Nothing really big, but...you're probably laughing at me, right?" You notice her eyes growing big, like a begging kitten. "This sounds ridiculous, but there's been things before us, before this city! There's been all these coverups by the government, but there's more than just empty blue over there!"

The whole thing sounds like some epic adventure like the ones she's told here friends at school, and to hear her embarrassed about it almost seems cute. As your thinking this, your impulses have you patting her head. She starts pouting, "Cut it out!" That was more than enough to snap you out of the habit. "Y-you can't do that to me! I am Lani Androskya, third generation treasure hunter!" It takes a bit before you can calm her down from her ranting.

>>44255699
After Lani calmed down for a bit, she sat down in the river. Her eyes began casting downward.
"It's just...this is actually a dangerous job. People have gotten hurt doing what I do and if you did get hurt...I'd feel horrible about it." Her eyes then lock on right at yours. "I'm gonna ask again. Are you sure you wanna join me? If you're too scared or something, just say it right now. I won't be angry...honest."

Though you appreciate her concern, you just lower yourself to her level and smile. That's all it takes for her to cheer up.
"All right!" The treasure hunter began marching out to the water after moving her goggles down. "You're gonna need something to protect yourself! I know a place where we can sift through for a gun!" You're quickly following her, marveling at how such a short girl can have such speed. You follow her underwater to find a tiny house under the bridge.
It baffled you: who'd want to live right here? There's no roads or cars here! Your contemplation of this made you miss out on Lani diving under the water. You quickly take a breath and dive down to chase her under the house.

You climb out to find yourselves amidst an entire shooting range. Admittedly, the number of guns wasn't many, but there were still some interesting things. Assault rifles, machine guns, shotguns, pistols, this was a good mix of each. On an opposite wall was a bucket full of random weapons: shovels, machetes and mauls seem to populate this bucket.
"We take defense pretty seriously," Lani mentions. "If you want, I can help you with getting something, but we kinda have to get going. Low tide's gonna be in a few minutes." You accept her offer and she grabs you a small carbine and a folder shovel. As you ask what she's taking, the hunter leads you outside to find a massive engine, too massive to possibly be a gun, and mounted beneath is a knife. The stock even appears to take half the weapon, and she's able to lift it like it's a backpack. "Heehee! Like it?"

>>44258780
It takes you a solid minute to even comprehend such a stupefying weapon even existing.
"Yeah, my mum was a gunsmith, and one time she got a deal and she liked it a li~ttle too much..." she's conversing with the weapon at her side. "She's got a couple guns like this, but she'll only let me take one for hunting. Sorry!"

The two of you take to the coast to find the coast growing a little. Lani hefts her gun and begins whistling. On cue, the seagull you met before lands directly on her gun and she begins asking it where to go. It points out into the sea, where you just happen to find the top of a building peering through. Without any further thought, she rockets off into the coast, but stops the moment she begins to hook up a small oxygen tank strapped on her armband. She rushes back to the house and then straps another one on your arm before going back on her way.

The reason becomes clear as you begin diving deeper. There is actually an entire building buried underneath there! And not just one, but an entire city under the water!
You climb in through a broken window and climb to the surface, where you catch your breath. You decide to take the chance to ask about why she took to treasure hunting.
"I did tell you how my dad and my grandpa did this too, right? They went off the coast in a submarine and managed to unearth this entire museum from under the sea! Ever since then, they've begun digging up other things from under the sea. See, people lived here before us, but then they vanished. When we started, we found out that they became...something different, but when we told the world, the government told us we couldn't talk about it anymore." Lani is keeping herself together. "I don't get it, if something's dangerous, then wouldn't it better to warn people about it?"
She picks herself up. "But hopefully, we won't see them. C'mon, I wanna go deeper."

The two of you find out pretty quickly that this place was an apartment at one point.

>>44259316
Though most of the rooms appear empty save for the bare necessities of a room, some still had something in them, usually an old TV or a shelf, but others had collections of disks. Lani grabbed what she could and began bagging them before tossing them out an open window. She assured you that they'd float up when the tide rose again.

For a while, this was the pattern, you entered a room, you picked up anything you saw that caught your eye, and Lani would bag what she saw as valuable. At the rate you were going, you would have half the building done before the tide came back.

Then you had to run to the bathroom. One being occupied by something that looked like it once human, but bloated by water and rotted and now shuffling right at you. The shock had you cry out. Before you can try to pound it with your shovel, Lani bursts in behind you, knocking you to the floor as she blasted the thing, splattering you and the wall behind it with some blackish-brown ichor. As you climb up, you get tackled again by your white-haired savior.
She apologizes profusely, beating herself up for not looking in before letting you go, for forgetting to teach you how to fire your gun and how she should've left you behind. Admittedly, had you known that this thing might have tried to eat you, you might have turned back, but it was too late to say that now. You try the only way you know how to calm her down and embrace her right there, stroking her hair.
"Y-you're not being fair..." she mewls. It helped the both of you to be there though.

Shortly after that...incident, you quickly went back to work on the catalogs, only to be cut off as the tide came back. Up you marched to a window and the massive gun found yet another use by having that massive knife break the window. You beat the tide outside and as soon as it stabilized, you were already hauling all the loot back to the shack.

You notice Lani remaining quiet during this point, keeping to herself as you began unloading.

>>44260425
You decide to ask Lani what's wrong, but she's clamming up about it, staring only at the seagull as it's perched on her massive gun.
You try to grab her again, but she rebuffs your advances with a "Not in the mood right now." Instead, you try o grab her hand.
"You're scared of me, right?" she asks. "I know I told you it was just a fun treasure hunt, but...there's so much I can't tell without people being scared away." As she's going on about the occupational hazards about being a treasure hunter and how it took years for her to even operate alone, you just keep yourself composed. It was scary, sure, but...having her there was actually fun. You got to see her at her job, talking about the world before, and you enjoyed it.

She again asks, "Are you afraid of me?"
You decide that the only acceptable answer to this was to try to pick up her gun, hoping it's just empty space. However, as you grip the handles, you're already regretting it. Even lifting it off the ground it straining to you.
Lani immediately jumps in, "You can't use your back to lift that! You're going to break your back like that!" She grabs your waist. "Here, you need to use your legs more. And..." You manage to bring it up to your level, but it's still clear that this thing really is massive.
"I'm... This is the first time someone's tried to lift my gun. I..." she's blushing as she's thinking about her gun, which you promptly lower into the ground. "Y-you have to join me again, got it? If you're going to get near Heavy Gull again, you've gotta be just as good a treasure hunter as I am!"
You promptly break the tension by asking why she named the gun. "That's not the point!" you promptly accept her offer, which allows her to continue, "Well...the gun's frame was recovered from this seagull sanctuary. I don't know where it's from, but my mum saw it and she decided she wanted to make it a gun."
The two of you quickly grab the bags and haul them over to the shack and put all the weapons back.

>>44263733
When you swim back to the canal, you both realize that the sun's already setting.
"Listen," Lani's grabbing you. "It's...well, I'm glad you came along today. Are you sure you want to continue being with me?"
Again, you pet her, to her disappointment. "If that means a yes, then I'll allow it." You agree. "Then...keep going. If you're going to be like this, then I'm gonna have to rely on you to keep me calm. Got it?" You oblige her.
"We're going back there next week. We still have the rest of the apartment to go through, and there's another one I'm gonna need your help with. You okay with that?"
You nod as you begin walking back home. "And if you want...um, we can meet in class, right?" You accept. "Yay! I still need some help with English, I'm trying to figure out this book!"

Welcome to your new job, treasure hunter.

>>44255699
>>44258780
>>44259316
>>44260425
interesting. I think there's a curiously dream-like quality to this

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>The Holiday Season in the 41st Millennium Part 5: The Big Red Man
For sake of plot, let's say this is before Episode 19. Nobody knows of CenturiDorn.

It was just any other day in the Eternal Palace of the Man-Emperor of Mankind.
The Custodes were busy being completely fabulously gay, the High Lords were still a bunch of senile old farts, and the Inquisition was still shoved on some end of the warp, slowly driven to death or insanity by the cooperated efforts of the Daemons and an insane Grey Knight.

On this particular day, Magnus the Red was, as always, knee-deep in books. Aside from his typical pursuit of knowledge, he was also busy writing up the Emperor's recollections about the history of the world before the Imperium. As he was reading through the countless tomes for reference, he came across a curious clipping: A jolly man with a white beard and a red suit, carrying a sack. As was habit for the ex-daemon prince of Tzeentch, he began to hunt down the rest of the books for information, using his warp powers to peer into every book he can find. Nothing could be found.
Considering how his library card to the great libraries of change was revoked on the grounds of "Your daddy smacked my shit and stole your soul", he had only one option left. The Primarch would have to talk to the Emperor.

"Dad," he asked, "I need...some assistance with identifying something."
>WHAT? MISTER DAEMON OF KNOWLEDGE IS INCAPABLE OF FINDING SOMETHING? WHAT STUPID FUCKING THING COULD IT BE THAT YOU NEED TO LOOK UP THAT YOU NEED ME FOR ANYWAYS?
Magnus used his powers to project an image of that jolly red man.
>THIS ALL LOOKS SO FAMILIAR...
In an instant, a warp rift opened, and from it collapsed a fully-armored Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes. After scrambling to gather his bearings, the Custodian stood at attention. "Yes, my Emperor? Did you need me for anything?"
>SAY, WHAT CAN YOU TELL ME AGAIN ABOUT THOSE BLOOD RAVENS?

>>44265918
"Blood Ravens?" the Custodian began thinking. "Oh, those guys? Well...they're a chapter of space marines, nobody knows who they're from and I think there was some story about them being rampant kleptomaniacs."
"Blood Ravens?" Magnus snorted. "Of all the legions to get some stupid defect, I'm actually kind of surprised that it's Corax who got a chapter of Kleptomaniacs."
>SO THIS MEANS THERE IS NO WAY THEY WOULD POSSIBLY GO RUNNING AROUND WITH A SACK IN THEIR HANDS LIKE SOME PEDOPHILE?
"Nnnnno."

Before the atmosphere got any more awkward, a Centurion waddled its way in and seated itself on the nonexistent lap of the Emperor.
>OH, GOOD. SOMETHING TO DISTRACT ME FROM ALL THE CREEPY SHIT AND - WAIT. YOU, GOLDEN BANANA BOY.
"Yes, milord?"
>WHERE DID THIS ADORABLE THING EVEN COME FROM?
"The Centurion?" The Custodian was happy enough to change topics. "Well, I remember that the STC for them was recovered after the Age of Apostasy, which'd place them somewhere in the 37th millennium, but..." He was lost in thought for a second before he got an idea. "Give me a moment, I just got to check something!"

He ran over to a small section of archives, where all that existed were data logs.
"Ohoho, you seem to be hiding something!" Magnus appeared behind him. "So what exactly is it you're looking for?"
"You're not even supposed to be here," the Custodian tried to ignore the Primarch. "This is restricted to the Adeptus Custodes."
"And I'm a) a Primarch, genetically-modified progeny of the Emperor, and b) a fucking Daemon. Really, the only way you can keep me out is to ward it with another daemon or dad's powers."
The Custodian sighed in defeat. "I'm looking to see if I can figure out how that centurion got here. Yes, the STC came out in M37, but that doesn't explain how it got here. The Adeptus Mechanicus wouldn't just be so charitable as to give us one, so that means someone gave it to us and..." He uncovered a cogitator bank recording footage of a tree.

>>44266692
This tree was the last tree left on Terra. Thus, the Emperor decided to rip it out of its ground and put it in a museum full of old stuff from the days before the Imperium.
Of course, with the coming of the Ecclesiarchy, it became a holy relic, now covered full of ornaments with skulls and two-headed eagles and gold stuff. In a way that looks almost insulting to the not-God-Emperor, but almost endearing. It was this sort of sentimentality (or perhaps the part where the Emperor overlooked the upkeep of his own palace because it was ultimately petty compared to dismantling two entire branches of the Imperium in a single blow) that allowed it to remain as it has amidst all the upheaval in the Palace.

As a relic of pre-Long-Night Terra, it naturally had security pict-recorders all over the place. And of course, the only person competent enough to even operate it anymore was the Captain-General. The Techpriests were too insular, demanding entire monopoly of the palace and wanting to kick everyone else out, the Inquisition was full of nutjobs, and the remaining Custodes were now a bunch of flamboyant homosexuals.
But he knew how these ran, and he called back to this experience as he rewound it far enough to find a discrepancy - an invader!

A stout person just strolled into the museum, planted a massive box there from his sack, and then walked off like it was nobody's business. A few hours later, that box just burst open and out came a Centurion.
"What the fu..." the two of them were stunned that this had happened.
"And this just happened...holy crap, just three years ago?" Magnus noticed the date. "What the hell were you doing at that time?"
"You mean aside from making sure those damn Techpriests weren't trying to zombify our lord and keeping those...those guys out the doors?" The Custodian asked. "Weeeellllll......."

~THREE YEARS AGO~
There is a tray on the Emperor's lap with tea and biscuits. On his head, a little hat.

>>44269371
"Oh, yes, we've been doing all sorts of intergalactic genocide in your name! Why, we're even going to launch an entire crusade just to annihilate those fuckwad Tau from the face of the galaxy!" The Custodian was gleefully talking while sitting on a table, drinking his tea. "Once we get you up and running again, I'll personally drive you right there so we can murder their heathenous leaders and turn their planet into...Iunno, some planetary spa chain."

As he was conversing, the little Techpriests operating on the Emperor's eye-projector secretly whispered to each other in binary, discussing his flighty grasp on reality.

"Ohhoho, of course you can have more tea, my magnificent Emperor!" Immediately,the Techpriests panicked and went back to work on the throne.

For the voiceless Emperor, it was a hell without no end. Were he to have the text-to-speech device, all it would register was an indecipherable screaming.
~THE PRESENT~

Magnus was entirely speechless about this.
"And you will tell no one about this, understood?" The Custodian tried to be threatening, but since Daemons innately had Fear in their ruleset, it was about as effective as scaring a Necron.
"You people are really fucked up..." the Primarch just slowly walked back, making sure not to make eye contact with the shameless Custodian.

Now alone, the Custodian had to look for another security recording. This time, he found one of the perimeter outside the Palace. Someone had to be out there.
Again, three years ago, he saw something where it never was meant to be: A giant chariot, ridden by...were those horses? The perimeter defenses fired upon it, as they were programmed to, but somehow, they all were evaded, and the chariot was able to land...right in front of the Inner Sanctum's gateway
Another recording was recovered at the front gates. As he expected, it was completely unguarded. The timing was perfect; this all happened just as the Custodes had changed shifts.

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I am writing this last will and testament as to whomever finds my corpse, I am not a family man and have no real friends to speak of, though I suppose it’s for the best, lest they too investigate the cause of my suicide and find what I did.

The rain is belting down and I can see it landing in the street below, I shall join it soon. It has been several hours but I can still barley move and scarcely breathe. Whatever that... thing was, it defied any concept of logic or reason, its own hideous visage mocking any God that dared create it. But I am getting ahead of myself; I shall start from the beginning.

I work for the Warren and Harlem firm as an attorney. I’ll admit over the years some of those iv defended have probably been guilty (It’s a statistical Improbability for there to have not been at least one guilty candidate) but even after the many years I’ve been defending murderers and rapists I’ve never truly felt shocked at the acts these Men committed. True they were heinous acts but I could always find perhaps a reasonable explanation for what had been done, Jealousy, Anger, lust. As a Human even I have oft fell prey to these emotions, crossing lines or making questionable decisions, but what I have seen defies any reasoning. I cannot reconcile this you see, which is why I must now take my life.

>>44270712
I had been working late you see, I was always avaricious; it was the main reason I became a lawyer. I had been working with William (my supervisor) on a case of a young man accused of killing his mother in a most gruesome manner. The man had rendered her somehow immobile and began to rend her flesh with some unknown weapon, he then proceeded to reduce the body into, quite simply put, Bits. The man almost certainly did it, or at least that’s what all the evidence had pointed to, but I would have the misfortune to find out later what had truly happened.

We spent hours going over the case, trying to poke holes in the witness statements, trying to find some contradiction, but each recount was eerily similar. Each recounted that at as the clock struck three they were awoke by the screams of a frantic woman. The Reports said it only lasted for a few minutes upon which the police arrived to find the Mother in shreds and the boy quietly sobbing in a corner, his body covered in his now desiccated mother. The police had gone through the house, there was no sign that anybody but the mother and the boy had been in the house, and there was no sign that there had been guests or intruders. The Police attempted to interview the boy, but he was nothing but a sobbing mess. Knowing what I know now i am sure if the boy had been in any straight of mind he would have killed himself as soon as he had the chance. The doctors believed he had a psychotic break after killing his mother but they were only half right.

After deciding that there was nothing more that could be done with the case, me and warren had decided to check the archives in the basement to see if there had been any similar cases, that perhaps we could make an insanity plea. For the short time I have left on this earth I will regret this, my own avarice has forsaken me and warren, though at least now he knows peace.

>>44271221
The archives were a countless maze of storage lockers, each one listing off crimes and perversions that even a priest would not be able to forgive. It was here it found us. At first we thought nothing of it, a few shifting shadows in the endless dark that was the archives, a few sounds we put off as rats, we never accepted that something else was down there with us till we found it.

I must warn you now, that the account you are about to read is about an entity, and I do say entity for I know not if it is man or beast or if we lowly mortals would ever be able to categorize a such a thing as we would a fungi or plant. The Thing seemed to appear as if out of nowhere, materializing in front so fast we had no time to even gather our wits. The thing defied reason itself, I would describe to you the maddening spiraling “Color’s” if you could even call them that, if I knew words that could describe them, but I do not know whether it is a lack of my knowledge of words in the English language or rather the English languages lack of knowledge of such sights that prevent me from doing so. So instead I shall say this; IT WAS MADDENING. Even now I sit here covered in sweat just recalling it’s distorted form.

The shape of it also stands to question, as at first I mistook it for some weird form of Human, being proved painfully wrong as its “body” twisted and turned in way that should be impossible, the only mildly human resembling feature was a head with cold distorted eyes that hurt to look and a crooked jaw.

>>44271575
Williams was as frightened as I was, struck with fear he was unable to move as the thing moved towards him. As it got closer Williams tried to speak, with it saying he came in peace but the thing didn’t care. And that was when Williams died. I shall spare you the details, I’m sure you will hear about them on the news tomorrow but it was gruesome. Thinking back now I believe it was a mercy that Williams was killed, lest he die a more slow, drawn out death as have been forced to.

I believe it knew what I would do, it never intended for one of us to live. After it was finished with Williams it last act before disappearing from existence (I hope to whatever Gods that may watch over us) was for its crooked jaw to somehow find its way to face me and mutter the three words that left me no alternative but this. The way it spoke was indiscernible I could lie and say it was harsh and angry, or soft yet strong I could even say it was otherworldly but quite frankly these would all be lies. The voice I heard could only be described as wrong. It was not something that should exist or should ever have exited my very ears protesting as this entity said “NO ONE WILL EVER BELIEVE YOU”.

>>44271606

I awoke some time later still in the darkened archives along with what was left of Williams. I have since climbed to the top of William and Harlem and write to you the discover of this letter. I have told you I was greedy and I did accumulate quite a lot of wealth I leave these to you. I’m afraid I have not been entirely truthful with you finder. I am not in fact the man whose corpse you have found this upon. The man had killed himself not long after the events described. The man has been dead for several hours before I wrote this. Just like him you read this out of either avarice for the man’s possessions he promised or your own morbid curiosity. It’s in these ways that you show your true colors, like the boy and the mother who conned small businesses out of their livelihood or the man before you and his college who released rapists and murderers back onto the street. I know who you are, and I know what you’ve done, did and will do.
See you soon.

>>44270372
Just as the Custodes guarding the gates were to go clock out and the next ones to clock in, this one saboteur had managed to evade the most advanced security systems known to mankind and...dropped a full Centurion warsuit into the Sanctum Imperialis.
And just as soon as the Techmarines finished with making the Text-to-Speech Device, as if on cue, was a Centurion, right for the Emperor to adore instead of a Nemesis Dreadknight that was being analyzed by those same Techpriests. It all worked too perfectly, almost as if there was just as...

Before he finished that sentence, the Captain-General rushed off to find Magnus, who was, once again, in his books.
"What is it, stepmother?" the Daemon Primarch's snarky attitude met his visitor.
"I'm going to ask you this once, but...did you have anything to do with this surprise break-in to the palace?"
Magnus paused and turned. "I am a daemon prince of Tzeentch, bound by my nature to the Warp. The only way I was even able to get into this palace was to be chained to a box with fucking blanks on each side and shipped right into the Golden Throne itself and then getting my soul back after my dad's ghost bitchslapped the asshole god responsible," it was clear he was not amused. "In any other instance, I'd have my ass booted back to the warp before I could even say 'Fuck me right in the ass!'."
"So...that's a no."
Magnus threw up his arms. Sometimes it astounded him how stupid everyone was. "Sure!"

The Captain-General had one last idea: This visitor, this jolly red man, was actually some ur-Terran legend, from the ages before the Imperium.
"So, my lord, would it be possible this red man might be some sort of...legend of the ages before your most benevolent reign as supreme overlord of all mankind?"
>LEGEND BEFORE I CONQUERED THE WORLD? THAT JUST COULD BE...

Before the Emperor could even finish the thought, a memory suddenly jingled itself right into place for the Emperor to remember it, and it hit Him.

>>44273690
~SOME FUCKALL-LONG TIME AGO~
The Emperor was sitting in front of a TV in an empty room, watching a bunch of holiday specials. He wore only a robe of some immaculately smooth material and in his hand a drink. His silence was then interrupted as Malcador walks in.

"Why're you watching this?" the Sigilite asked.
The Emperor could only blankly reply, "I have no idea." These weren't any new holiday specials, mind. These were things that had existed for millennia, rebuilt and remastered a hundred thousand times over, and yet he still watched them like a kid who was seeing this for the first time.
"You do realize this is all stupid, right?" Malcador was playing the part of the pessimist. "There's no feasible way for someone to fly around the world one night every year and not get caught!"
"Don't give a shit." The Emperor was in thought. "But perhaps...the kids in these shows always seem to believe in him despite the premise being so totally stupid. What if...we try that same premise?"
"What the idea of goodwill towards all men? You really think humanity would just accept that?"
"Well, considering it's either that or be pillaged by a bunch of techno-barbarians..." The Emperor mused. "What if I became their beacon of hope?"

Malcador thought about the idea, considering the countless possibilities this may open and the countless costs it may levy as well.
"We just might have something..."
"Of course I do!" The Emperor stood up. "Only thing it that I'm not doing red. Red makes me look like I'm a fireman. And we'll need helpers! Not wimpy-ass little elves, but big, muscly genetically-modified soldiers with two hearts that can spit acid and eat meat to gain genetic memories! And they'll have the best weapons ever made just to prove how badass they are!"
"Are you sure-"
"Of course I'm fucking sure!" He cut the Sigilite off. "We have those scientists we took ho - I mean rescued! We can make them do it in exchange for getting to name them!"

>>44275399
Malcador merely nodded, accepting the path that was happening. "I think we can make them agree to it."
"Perfect!" The Emperor took a shot. "Now all we need to do is make the concepts...." He then ran off to grab some biology books to see how far he can violate them.
~THE PRESENT~

>HOLY FUCKBALLS. I REMEMBER THAT SHIT.
"Wait, you do?"
>THAT'S MOTHERFUCKING SANTA CLAUS!"
"Who?"
>OH, OF FUCKING COURSE NOBODY RECOGNIZES THAT JOLLY RED JACKASS. NOW SADDLE UP AND LISTEN CLOSE HERE, YOU DENSE MOTHERFUCKER, BECAUSE THIS IS GONNA BE SERIOUS.

>ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A DUDE NAMED SAINT NICHOLAS. HE GAVE PRESENTS TO KIDS SO THEY BELIEVED IN HIM.
>THEN ONE DAY HE DIED. DESPERATE TO KEEP THE LEGEND ALIVE, THEY DECIDED TO DRESS A BUNCH OF HOBOS UP IN ORDER TO IMPERSONATE HIM AND STEAL MONEY FOR POOR PEOPLE.
"Well that sounds really depressingly ironic."
>YOU'RE PREACHING TO A CHOIR, YOU QUEER.
>SO ANYWAYS, SOMEONE WROTE A STORY THAT BECAME POPULAR, ANOTHER WROTE ABOUT THE PART WHERE HE WAS DRIVEN AROUND IN A SLEIGH PULLED BY A MUTANT REINDEER. EVENTUALLY, THIS ALL MELDS TOGETHER INTO THIS CANON ABOUT A JOLLY RED MAN WITH A WHITE BEARD WHO RIDES AROUND ON MUTANT REINDEER AND JUMPS DOWN CHIMNEYS TO GIVE GIFTS TO GOOD KIDS AND COAL TO BAD ONES.
The Custodian, ill-trained to comprehend such cataclysmic info, merely stood dumbstruck. "So...what the hell does this have to do with anything."
>THAT'S THE GOOD PART. SEE, BEFORE I DECIDED ON WORLD CONQUEST, I FOUND MYSELF WATCHING ALL THESE SPECIALS AND PUTTING THIS WHOLE INSPIRATIONAL ICON BULLSHIT TOGETHER WHEN I REALIZED THAT IT WAS A GREAT IDEA TO MAKE MYSELF AN ICON. THEN I TURNED THE ELVES OF THE NORTH POLE INTO SPACE MARINES.
"So...the presence of Eldar inspired you to make the mighty Adeptus Astartes?"
>ELDAR? BOY, WHERE THE FUCK DID I SAY ELDAR? I MENTIONED ELVES. POINTY-EARED LITTLE PEOPLE.
"Um...okay."

At this very moment, Magnus walked in to see the Captain-General being whipped.

>>44275987
"I was going to ask if you got any headway, but considering that you've gotten him all pissy, I'm going to just go with the assumption that yes, he recognized it."
>AND WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?
"Reading up on my own sources. Seems like you got it before I did."
The Custodian tried to veer away, "So...what would you know about this Santa Calus?"
"Absolutely fuck-all."

The silence that ensued only served to break the poor Custodian's heart.
"So..do you want me to write about this or-"
>OF FUCKING COURSE YOU DO. THIS SHIT WAS THE ONE THING EVERYONE WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO EACH YEAR.
"O-okay..."
Magnus and the Custodian then left, leaving the Emperor alone. With nobody to hear him, The Emperor pulled what he could of his fractured consciousness and just wrote one word through the Astronomican: THANKS.

~THE NOW-VACATED NORTH POLE FORTRESS OF FYODOR KARAMAZOV~
A man in red dismounted his sleigh, satisfied with the work he had done. As he looked to the sky, and saw a light. He already knew the meaning of the message and smiled.

He faded back to the myth whence he came
~THE PALACE OF THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND~

The Captain-General decided on this day to investigate that tree.again.
Underneath it wasn't some massive box, but only a letter and a red hat with white fur trim.
He presented it to the Emperor.

"Glad to see you got your spirit back, SC"
>THAT CHEEKY FUCKER.
The Emperor then lifted the hat onto his head.
>THAT'S MORE LIKE IT. MERRY CHRISTMAS, YOU THANKLESS LITTLE SHITS."
The Custodian nervously replied, "Um...thanks, my lord?"
Magnus casually accepted, "Merry Christmas, Dad...I guess."

>>44265918
>>44266692
>>44269371
>>44270372
>>44273690
>>44275399
>>44275987
>>44276917

>The Holiday Season in the 41st Millennium
I am loving these

bump. working on something.

>>44279810
In two days time, the ruins of the war camp would be discovered by a native hunter by the name of Shades-His-Face. He would return to his savage tribe to the north, and tell them of what he'd found.

A week after the massacre, that tribe would arrive in force to salvage everything they could. More arms and armour than they could use themselves, food to last them months, dozens of maps of the surrounding lands. In the space of a few hours they would become the richest tribe in the region.

Before the end of Calibration next year, Shades-His-Face will have used the influence he gained fro the discovery to become chief of the tribe, a tribe that had become the de-facto power in the area. By the end of the year after that, he will be crowned the first king.

In twenty years, he will be killed. He will be killed in a ritualistic battle for control of the kingdom, by an ambitious young warrior spurred on by the words of his equally ambitious wife. They will go to war with their neighbors, subjugating and bullying the remaining tribes under their banner.

In fifty years time, this fledgling kingdom will be completely destroyed, pulled apart from the inside by squabbling nobles and the parts of tribal society that it had clung to even after they were harmful. In the midst of the chaos, a hero will rise and unite it once again. He will be a truly great king, and his land will flourish under his rule.

But it is his son that is the reason for the slaughter. His son will shape the future of Creation on a grand scale. His every deed will echo through the very fabric of the world. That is his Fate. But without the death of everyone in this camp, in this spot, at this time, none of that can happen.

Red Morning was a Chosen of Battles, and she took comfort in Fate. It was part of her soul, and she lived to see it play out in the way it was supposed to. She had done what needed to be done, and would file it away marked 'Action Undertaken' and never think of it again.

>>44250856
Always keep an eye on your wife.

For sometimes, they hold another agenda that lays underneath their skin.
Sometimes, they may bear a mark of Allegiance. In the case of the Black Widow Society, the mark is a small tattoo, right under the right shoulder blade, unnoticeable in any normal circumstance.

Though they keep themselves well-hidden, their intentions become all-too clear.
Men walking alone in the streets at night might get a mysterious visitor: A battered woman. She always looks shaken, beaten, and asks for entrance. Sometimes, they say they were nearly (or even completely) raped, while others blame nonexistent husbands. Most kind men allow them in, and thus become ensnared in the Widow's web.
From this point on, the Widow will begin their surveillance. Sometimes, this is just following their patron and observing his habits, while others merely ask to have something to calm them down, picking a specific drugstore that would lead them to the path of their prey. Dependent on their prey, they might ask for assistance in their reconnaissance, which summons other Widows to spy on their distant prey, or begin reading the news on their host, keeping tabs on their habits. Being gentlemen in most instances, the host will suspect nothing. Those of a less...proper predilection still tend to overlook this detail, thinking that they are just jumpy from whatever circumstances that happen.

Though every target of the Black Widow Society is invariably a male, there are some conflicting details as to what truly constitutes for a target.
According to the Church, the Black Widows are meant to enforce the sanctity of matrimony, as the men that are murdered tend to have some history of philandering or otherwise being unfaithful to their wives. In truth, this accounts for about 60% of the deaths.
According to the brothels, they are shams, murderers. Considering how easily they tend to be mistaken for Widows, they tend to have many requirements from their hires.

>>44287636
It is not uncommon to have a brothel put up a requirement banning tattoos or forcing them to not wear personal jewelry, as these might be details revealing their allegiance. In a way, this is true, as are a number of other unsavory terms certain courtesans use to describe them.
According to some, including the, however, they are considered vigilantes. Out of the people they murdered, it was noted that over 80% of their victims had either a criminal record or was attempting something that would have warranted one. Regardless of their intentions, however, this is still a criminal act, marking the Widows criminals. As it stands, to be identified as a Black Widow is to be charged with espionage and murder.

What is constant between each crime they commit is the almost ironic nature of their killings.
Cheaters tend to have their hands and genitals cut off in the ancient eastern customs. Hoarders have their belongings vandalized and even used as murder weapons. Corrupt magnates drink only to suddenly find themselves gasping for breath as they are poisoned.
Some suspect that they even resort to more esoteric measures, using strange southern rituals used by witch doctors. Though it is uncertain if these were ever related to the Widows, there are cases of men being mutilated, bones broken in impossible angles, or vanished altogether. Considering their
These crimes are all noted as being crimes of opportunity. Each usually happening in the dead of night, when most would be asleep. Even if any were to hear, the light would be dim enough (or perhaps the Widow herself a convincing enough actor) that she is not noticed as a perpetrator. Even after that night, as the police investigate the scene, the Widow will put on a front of hysterics.

This allows for the Widow to escape with nary a trace.
Nobody bothers to ask for her, wishing to respect the wishes of a grieving widow, and nobody suspects anything about her mysterious disappearance.

>>44289701
Occasionally, either by luck or by design, there will be survivors. Wives now widowed, children now fatherless or orphaned, they now seek out the Widow in search for answers. For any number of hysterical reasons, they now blame the Widow for ruining their life.
Those who search far enough in find the Catcher, a renowned chain of bars that spread wide across the county. They enter to find that they have a VIP reservation with the owner of the bar.

When they enter the room, they find a table with an empty seat. Across from it are three women in masks: The first dons the mask of the Black Widow. She is the Grandmaster of the Black Widow Society. The second dons a bird's mask. She is otherwise known as the owner of the bar, but in this instance, she is better known as the spymaster. This left the third, who wore only the mask of a doll's face.
These three Widows begin asking all sorts of personal questions, about their fidelity, about their loyalty, what they would do to avenge their husband's honor and how far they would pursue the supposed killer. Those who are unable to satisfy the Widows have their meals paid for and the grievers leave the Catcher unfulfilled and their vengeance unsated. Those that realize their husband's sins and satisfy the Widows, however, are initiated into the Black Widow Society. Now that they have known loss, they will now learn to inflict it to others.

This is perhaps the greatest problem with the Society: They perpetuate. They use the very emotions they sow to hire more, and through this, spread it further.

Though they remain dangerous however, there is one target they will never harm: the faithful husband.
As bizarre as it seems, those whose marital and social lives are on the straight-and-narrow seem to be ignored by the Society, and thus it is advised to keep it that way so long as the Society still exists.

And if you see a battered woman taking to the streets, take caution, or else the Widows might bite you as well.

bump again.

>>44307815
The wind stirs...

I warned them, but they did not listen.

The arms turn...

They called me mad for they could not see.

The stone grinds...

I am all that remains and the last who remembers.

The dead rise...

The Giants answer the wind's call once more.