Grey Knight

It does. If that's not enough of a bane, then I don't know what is. ...when did I do that? I wear green armor, not grey. I wish for Allomancy.

"I... what?" Kerith said, sounding extremely confused. "Sir- if that's what you really are- these marines aren't ours. They're Chaos Marines of some kind- traitors to mankind and worshipers of Chaos. The Black Crusade has been fighting them, and we're losing." Kerith stood, drawing a chainsword from his scabbard. "Last I heard, the Blood Angels were fighting by the Liebrary. We lost contact with them- well, I lost contact with them, after my unit was annihilated by spawn marines."

The wall next to Storm shuddered, then burst open, throwing rock shards all across the basement. Twisted space marines in black armor swarmed through the hole, coming from a tunnel dug right up to the basement. The twisted marines fired indiscriminately into the room, shouting blasphemous praises to the dark gods, or just screaming in insane pain.

A confused Drako He'Stan wandered into the church, holding Mac's awakened blade. "I have no idea what this is," he said, to no one in particular. "I've never seen this blade before in my life." @MacThorstenson, what does this Awakened blade do?

Something in reality broke as a giant in black Shardplate appeared in front of Solace, unholy fire rippling off his armor. He slammed a fist into the ground, and lines of blasphemous runes sunk into the stones, heading straight towards the fallen space marines. As it reached them, their helms glowed with an infernal light, and, as one, they rose to their feet, pulled up like puppets. In unison, they turned towards Solace and fired their bolters. The Astartes* shrugged, looking down the empty street. "Kind of," he said. He looked back towards Caer. "I'm Battle-Brother Kerith of the Raptors chapter." *another name for space marines, to save space

Suddenly, a black-armored space marine burst from one of the Alleys, grabbing Caer with one arm and ducking into the shadows of a wrecked building. “Quiet!” he hissed frantically, the distortion of the vox almost making his voice tremble. “In the name of all you mortals hold holy, be quiet.” The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of battle. One second, the street was empty. The next, it wasn’t. Something stepped out of the shadows. A giant, monstrous shape, like a cruel mockery of a space marine- tall, with shrunken raven wings sprouting from its back and blasphemous symbols etched into its power armor. It turned its red eyes towards the bodies of the “crusaders” in the street. They started twitching. Worms burst from their chests, winding around their dead limbs and forcing the bodies to stand. They were screaming the entire time. The monstrosity glided down the street, away from the space marine and Caer, the screaming worm-puppets following behind it. They disappeared around the corner, leaving a trail of slime and gore in their wake. Their wails still echoed down the streets. The space marine slumped, letting go of Caer. He… didn’t seem right in the head- mumbling to himself and fiddling with the bolt pistol holstered at his waist. “Emperor save us all,” he whispered.

Drako He’Stan, Master of the Salamanders space marines and founder of the Black Crusade, was not having a good day. He glared at the holocaster before him, which stubbornly refused to come to life. For the fifth time, he started the ritual of awakening- he muttered a prayer to the Omnissiah, god of machine spirits, and gave the holocaster a solid pound with his armored fist. The holocaster shuddered, but otherwise did nothing. Drako sighed, standing up and sending a vox-call to the Adeptus Mechanicus station. He’d have to get a tech-priest to look at the frakking thing. They’d be able to coax the machine-spirit of the holocaster into compliance far better than Drako could. Drako walked out of the poorly lit into the tunnel, glittering ice surrounding him. Months ago, during the Rhazien Crisis, the Salamanders had been offered sanctuary by Queen Elsa. Now, after serious excavation and repairs, this icy cavern beneath the Queen’s castle had become their de-facto base. Now, the Solace Crisis was upon them, and Drako was left stumbling behind everyone else. Again. His intelligence agents told him that Solace had just bonded with an extraordinarily powerful daemon- spren, actually. This universe didn’t have daemons, or so Librarian Lu’Man told him. The point was that Solace was now even more powerful. Drako also knew that Solace had summoned all the Ghostbloods together, near the Worldspike. The Ghostbloods were already a powerful guild, even spread out. All of them in one place could be catastrophic- or, an opportunity. No. Before Drako could strike, he needed allies. Fighting alone was a death sentence. His first duel with Rhazien had taught him that. Lost in thought, Drako stepped into the main cavern. He gripped the crude railing, looking outward. He saw a massive chamber, filled with scurrying space marines and humans. Imperial Knights lumbered around Rhino tanks being worked on by tech-priests. Thunderhawks hung from the ceiling, suspended by thick cables driven into the ice. The crack of bolters and heavier weapons rang throughout the cavern as squads drilled and trained. The comm system in Drako’s helmet crackled, and a toneless voice told him that the holocaster had been persuaded to work. Drako thanked the Emperor for this small mercy, hurrying back to the projector room. He stepped into the hastily-excavated room. Two tech-priests in green robes stepped aside, bowing to Drako. He took a few breaths, calming himself. He was about to do something huge, and it would probably get him killed. Any mere mortal would have been quaking with fear by now. But Drako was a space marine, and he would know no fear. He thumbed the activation rune on the holocaster, and stared straight ahead. —————————————— All across the AlleyVerse, hidden holo-projectors activated. In every town, headquarters, and alley, a flickering image of Drako burst into life, rising into the air. “Homeless,” he said, “Doom is upon us.” He paused, then reached for his helmet. “Solace has made his move. He has bonded with the soul of the World. The Ghostbloods stand ready to take everything. They will burn the AlleyVerse in their efforts to control it.” Drako pulled off his helm. Glowing red eyes, set in a coal-black face, stared out at the watchers. “Solace,” he continued, “would have you believe that this is inevitable. Perhaps that he is inevitable. Indestructible. A god. “But gods don’t bleed,” Drako said. “And he has bled.” Drako was breathing hard now. “AlleyVerse, hear me. To all those who would fight against Solace- please. Come to Newcago, and stand with the Black Crusade. To the weak, we offer protection. To the strong, we offer our blades. And to the patriots- those who love the AlleyVerse with all their heart- we offer a cause. War with the Ghostbloods.” The hologram by the Worldspike seemed to look down at the gathered Ghostbloods. “And Solace- I’m coming for you. My name is Drako He’Stan, of the Salamanders. I killed you once, and I will do it again.” The holograms winked out, all across the AlleyVerse. Inside the small chamber under Newcago, Drako breathed out, suddenly exhausted. One of the tech-priests started clapping. “I really hope that we broadcast it that time,” he said.

++ ASSASSSINATION BEGINS ++ Minutes before (as in, time skip backwards) Right as Solace reached his door, a massive, glowing glaive burst through the wood and straight into Solace's chest. The glaive twisted, and something yanked Solace back into the room. The wielder was revealed as a grey-armored space marine, who twisted his weapon and slammed it point-first into the ground, impaling him on the floor. The marine let go of his weapon and knelt by Solace, quickly rifling through his clothes and removing any infused gemstones on him. He crushed these in his massive hand, the Stormlight drifting into the air like smoke. The marine stood back up and grabbed the haft of his glaive, yanking it out of Solace's chest. And then, in one swift swing, he beheaded Solace. ++ ASSASSSINATION ENDS ++

Likely to prevent the losing voters from being assassinated by the Ghostbloods

Wait a second... Archer is PRO-hemalurgic?! What twisted, mirror universe is this?

A space marine turned the corner, walking towards the wreckage of the bar. His armor was jet black, decorated with skull iconography and holy scrolls, pressed onto the ceramite armor with melted wax. He wore a black hood over a skull-shaped helm. He was, for some reason, carrying a cardboard sign in one hand. The space marine sat on a large piece of rubble across from the bar and set his cardboard sign in front of him, leaning against the rubble. Convince me you're not a heretic it said, in scrawled handwriting. The space marine folded his arms and waited.

The AlleyPlanet. Home to dozens of powerful Cosmere organizations, and millions of other, non-magical humans. The metaphysical bonds that separated the three realms were strained here, put into tension by the massive weight of Investiture on the planet. That just made it easier for the Dauntless to carve a hole through the fabric of reality, transitioning from the Spiritual Realm (Warp?) to realspace. On the planet below, it was as if a second sun had flared into existence, then been devoured again by the dark void of the night sky. The Dauntless, now fully out of the glowing miasma, was a blunt-nosed vessel of war, with twin-linked point defense guns, interlocking fields of flak cannons, plasma lances decorating her stern, and a massive railgun set along her top. She was a battleship, the mightiest vessel in the Imperium’s arsenal, and more ancient than even the Astartes on board her. At least, that’s what Drako thought. In reality, she had been a plastic mini until a month ago, when Imperator had awakened the massive ship and sent her through the strange portal that had brought Drako here. The Reckoners had killed him moments later. Drako had found the Dauntless only days ago, fleeing from the planet Scadrial after a disastrous attempt to assassinate Mace. To his joy and gratitude, Imperator had sent one more gift- an army of space marines from the Salamanders Chapter. He’d found them confused and frightened, and about ready to start obliterating each planet they came across. It had taken a long time to dissuade them, but he'd finally succeeded. A little too well, actually. He'd been unanimously voted into the office of chapter master, the other marines convinced of his wisdom and experience. Drako couldn’t deny that a part of him wanted this- the power, the relics, the glory. The other part sighed, reminded himself that he had barely lived longer than these Astartes, and started to tackle the logistical problems facing his Salamanders. Everything boiled down to them being homeless. Without a base of power, the Salamanders had nowhere to rest, recruit new initiates, or resupply. They would become trapped on the Dauntless, their most powerful weapon becoming their prison. All that would have to wait, unfortunately. First, the Salamanders had a grudge to settle. ------------------------------- End story. First things first: this is an utterly awful piece of writing thrown together in less than half an hour. I need y'all's help to make it halfway readable. It's intended to be posted into the roleplaying section on the Shard, if that helps. First problem- the description of the battleship. Since this comes from Warhammer 40k, it's big and covered with guns. I'm struggling to convey the massive scale of this beast in my writing. Any suggestions are welcome. A picture of the battleship is attached below. Second problem- Drako's transition to leadership. It's rushed, sloppy, and doesn't make sense. Suggestions are welcome there, too. Third problem- a general lack of detail. This piece feels... empty. It fails to immerse the reader, to really bring the scene of a moon-sized spaceship ripping its way through reality, letting raw and unbound Investiture spill out of the Spiritual Realm. I've attached below a picture of what I think the scene should bring to mind.

The space marine frantically raised her bolter and unloaded it point-blank into Mace's chest. The force of the exploding shells was just enough to send him stumbling backwards, his increased weight lessening the effect. Another Salamander smashed through the doorway, bringing up his bolter and firing it at Mace. "Do you remember," Drako snarled, swinging his bolter around and pulling the trigger, "what happened on May the 14th? Or have the lives you've snuffed out already been wiped from your mind?"

"Mace Klasten," a voice said, as a shadow darkened Mace's sandwich. "You utter, frakking monster." Drako grabbed Mace's head and slammed it into the table with Shardplate-enhanced strength.

*inspires the skaa to rebel by dying, then having a kandra pretend to be me and go around saying I'm a god* *skaa rebellion then transported to this thread, where they form a raging mob*

"Your facts are wrong," Drako said firmly. "I act for myself, and for the glory of the Emperor. No one else." He looked around at the ruined house, then back to Rhazien. "I will take your offer to stay. Wedding gifts are a personal affair, and dropping from the atmosphere at the speed of sound isn't exactly comfortable. Thank you." Drako looked sharply at Tevarah. "Excuse me? You can't take your army into the AlleyVillage. It's under the protection of the Salamanders, and I'm keeping it that way. Why are you moving troops there, anyway?"

"I have no idea what you mean by that," Drako said cheerfully. The two emerald-armored marines set the sarcophagus down in front of Rhazien, and stepped back. One opened the lid, revealing a pile of shining gemstones that filled the sarcophagus to its brim. The combined glow was enough to momentarily blind everyone in the room, before one of the marines closed the lid. "Normally, I would give this to you last," Drako continued. "But since Yzabet isn't here, I might as well leave it. I've also been assured that none of the gems will lose their Stormlight, whatever that means. Something about 'a perfect cut'."

"Pointy?" Drako asked, righteously indignant. "I couldn't give you a 'pointy weapon' as a wedding gift. What kind of person do you think I am? My honor would be forever besmirched. "No," he continued, unsheathing the sword with a flourish, "This is far more than an ordinary weapon." The broadsword was brutally simple, with a simple crossguard and a metal handle wrapped in dragon leather. The grey blade was long and single edged, like an elongated combat knife. As Drako pressed a button on the hilt, the blade burst into flames, glowing a molten orange. "I present Nocturne's Claw to you, Rhazien," Drako said, "in the hopes that your love for Yzabet, your life-partner, will forever burn as hot as this blade. May you ever find good hunting, and may your enemies shrink in fear." Drako reversed his grip on the sword and stabbed it into the ground, then looked around the room. Behind him, the other space marines were carrying a massive black sarcophagus out of the drop pod. "Where's Yzabet?" Drako asked, sounding confused. "I had a gift for her as well." He looked sharply at Rhazien. "You two haven't... split up, have you? Because I'm going to want Nocturne's Claw back if you have."

"Don't leave just yet," Drako said, motioning to one of the marines behind him. The marine, Tu'Pac, passed up a human-sized broadsword in a black scabbard. "I haven't come here to fight," he continued, stepping down from the drop pod. He winced as his armored boot crashed through the floorboards. "Quite the opposite, actually."