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by NoPoet

[News] Two stories; new Writer’s Workshop; new Imp Lit update

31/08/2012 in Imp Lit News

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Greetings!

We have two stories going up: an untitled Writer’s Workshop story by Drakdylon and the first part of Service in His Shadow, a Commissar Cain story by Mike Stormm. Thanks to  the respective authors for their work and thanks to Jorawar1 for recommending the Cain story.

There are a few older stories which still haven’t been published. At least one of these needs major edits and another does not appear to be finished. Stories that are submitted in an apparently incomplete state will be delayed from now on since it’s a pain in the arse to format an entire story.

If people can simply put “The End” at the end of their stories, it will save me a lot of hair-pulling.

There’s a new writer’s workshop for September called When September Ends. The focus is on short fiction of 500-1,000 words, preferably set in Warhammer, 20K, Heresy or 40K. Anything goes – just keep it short!

Work on the revamped Imp Lit forum continues: massive thanks to Ironfist for his technical support and all-round know how. Thanks also to everyone else who has posted on the forums.

If you’re reading this, you ARE Imperial Literature. let us know you’re still out there.

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by jorawar1

[40K] Service in His Shadow

31/08/2012 in Warhammer 40K

2 votes, 5.00 avg. rating (97% score)

Jorawar1′s comment: This gentlemen and ladies is the best fan fiction available on the web. which in my humble opinion is better than the original.

Cain & Abel: Service In His Shadow

A Warhammer 40,000 epic by Mike Stormm

-Ariel Abel

“Like any newly-commissioned young commissar I faced my first assignment with an eagerness mixed with trepidation. I was, after all, the visible embodiment of the will of the Emperor Himself; and I could scarce suppress the tiny voice which bade me wonder if, when tested, I would truly prove worthy of the trust bestowed upon me. When the test came at last, in the blood and glory of the battlefield, I had my answer; and my life changed forever.”

-Ciaphas Cain, ‘To Serve the Emperor: A Commissar’s Life’

ONE

I must admit, at first, that the thought of scripting my own memoirs had not crossed my mind until I casually glanced through the pages of the autobiography belonging to my long-time colleague, and Hero of the Imperium, Commissar Cain. These days, it seems as though every guardsman, commissar, and officer who manages to reach retirement with enough of their brain still functioning to string a few coherent sentences together invariably throws together a story and calls it their memoir or autobiography. I never really thought my military exploits were enough of a story to be worthy of telling. Mostly, I think I simply feared they would be overlooked. However, looking back on nearly a century of gallivanting around the galaxy stomping on the heads of heretics, xenos, and unholy terrors alike, I realized there is probably some sort of lesson that could be learned from it all. Somewhere in all the bloody warfare, profanity-inducing horror, closes brushes with the hand of death, and near-blasphemous deeds that made up the clusterfrak that was my career, there is something that can be passed onto the next generation of men and women that somehow make it all seem worthwhile. Damned if I can figure out what it is though.

Maybe those guys at the medicae temple really can do wonders and breathe life back into the dead.

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by Drakdylon

[40K] Writer’s Workshop – Untitled Guard Story

30/08/2012 in Warhammer 40K, Writer's Workshop

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NoPoet’s comment: This was Drakdylon’s entry to the Feb/March Writer’s Workshop, “It’s Cold Outside”, where the theme was that it had to be COLD – preferably a winter setting. Other than that it was up to the author. Let’s hope Drak returns to edit this excellent piece, which is currently unfinished.

—

Untitled Guard Story by Drakdylon

Cadet Commissar Titus Hadrian kept his cap pressed firmly against his head with his left hand, and with his right he gripped the casing of a valuable data-slate. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind of information the slate might contain, but he guessed it was important from its level of encryption.

Holding his hat tight to his scalp to keep it from being blown away by the buffeting winds so common on this world, he strode down the alleyways marked out by the tents which reared on either side. When there was a full-blown blizzard up, the whitish tents disappeared and the camp was rendered almost invisible by virtue of the ubiquitous arctic camo that decorated everything the eye could see.

Hadrian hated it here. He had been raised and trained on a hive-world, a place where the temperature never dropped below a balmy fifty-five unless the planetary governor wanted it to. It was an unnatural feeling, being thrust onto a world swathed in ice. Especially on one’s first field assignment.

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by NoPoet

[NEWS] Site Update

27/08/2012 in Imp Lit News

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Greetings! With Imp Lit’s revival gathering pace thanks to new members, old friends and more contributions to the fiction and the forum, I have made the first major updates to the site’s architecture.

It should now be easier for myself and the mods to edit and publish new content. I’ve created new categories for 20K fiction and Imp Lit News. Doing away with the old-style home page was not entirely intentional but I think it will work out for the best.

Consadine seems to be figuring our new PM system out. It’s all good.

If you’re reading this, you ARE Imperial Literature. Sign back in to the forum and let us know you’re still alive.

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by Firewing2

[40K] Illumination

25/08/2012 in Warhammer 40K

3 votes, 5.00 avg. rating (97% score)

Illumination
A Justus Crix Story
By Peter Thornton

As always, I shivered at the sight of Inquisitor Globus Varaak. His bloated form scarcely contained by the black body glove that covered what remains of his human form, his left arm and both his legs replaced by crude mechanical constructs hardwired into his spine as part of the life support carriage that supported him. Tubes stretched from the hissing machines at his back to his pock marked face. He spoke through a vox castor wired into the ruin of scar tissue that remained of his throat. He was a broken and twisted shell of a man.

He was also one of the most powerful men in the Calixis sector.
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by DemetriDominov

[40K] Shade of the Bazaar

21/08/2012 in Warhammer 40K

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This is my first post on this site. It’s fairly old, I wrote this over 2.5 years ago, I just happened to find a place to share it. Enjoy. Leave comments if you will, I am open minded to comments and criticism.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Isaias looked at the broken man under his shoe, a fine trickle of blood was all that remained of the torrent that been springing from the criminal’s neck only moments ago. He savored this moment of macabre justice, for he well knew that like last time, this sweet tang of bloodlust filling his veins would dissipate and force him into a withdrawal as it had countless times before.

He must find new prey to give chase in his endless hunt. His cravings subjugated it to their whims, and he knew full well that he was a helpless pawn in their ocean of desire. He no longer even attempted to resist the urge to destroy life as though it was an object of disgust. Yet every time Isaias slaughtered the worthless criminals some still considered humanity, crawling and allowed to fester like cancer in the lawless undercroft of Imperita - which the Arbites and Sororitas Zealots were too overwhelmed to hunt for themselves – he felt power bordering upon the supernatural. As though he could take a walk in the warp itself and have its denizens bow before him, he desired no other drug, or comfort that could bring similar arousal knowing that the Emperor allowed him to enjoy his work.

Mercifully, underneath the burning forges of Imperita where Korzack Satasian Law and Imperial Rule faded with the natural light of the star Lorkan V blasting the sterile earth above there was no end to the scum of the universe, and with it hardly a pause before he could savor the killing blow once more.
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by NoPoet

[40K] Marneus Calgar’s Barmy Army: 2008 Xmas Special

16/08/2012 in Warhammer 40K

1 vote, 5.00 avg. rating (95% score)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the base

Not a xenos was stirring, nor warships in space;

The banners were hung from the halls with care,

In hopes Father Christmas would soon would be there;

The Ultras were nestled all snug in their cells,

To visions of dancing nuns tugging their bells;

Milo in black kecks, while Dick in his cap,

Had just settled down for a read and a crap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Dick banged his head seeing what was the matter.

Away to the window Brin flew like a flash,

His nostrils and bare chest were speckled with hash.

The moons on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave t’lustre of mid-day to the Smurf base below,

When, what to their upgraded eyes should appear,

But Marneus Calgar, pissed on cheap beer.

“It’s f*****g Christmas, lads! MERRY CHRISTMAS ONE AND ALL! Haaa-up-burrrrrp!”

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