#WH20K

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 20th

I did it. I did it. I finished Part X! Now we’ve just got the epilogue, and the prologue, and we’re good.

Word Count: 760 Monthly Word Count: 10400 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) 15th. 16th. 17th. 18th. 19th.

If I stand here, paralyzed with indecision, nothing will happen. Nothing will get done. Everyone will die. Panicking and making terrible choices has never helped anyone. All I can do is stay the course, push forward with my plan, and mourn for those who will be lost because my plans exclude them.

When there’s nothing more for me to do here in the city, I head towards the Caves. My head hurts, and I wonder if I’m infected too, or if my headaches are somehow different, more benign. I can’t sense the terrible pollution that’s in others within the depths of my own mind.

I’m safe, or so I hope, though the ache remains.

As I approach, I can see others making their way to the Caves, their steps tentative, unhurried. I gesture to them, moving them along. The Caves are large, and I’m certain there will be enough room for all.

There must be.

As the last of my people go down into the Caves, a pair of thoughts float into my mind. The first is that unless I can also seal off the Caves, the insects will simply fly in once they are unable to find anyone else to feed on, and the second is that if I do seal off the Caves, there will be no air to breathe, and my people will be stifled in their place of safety.

Both present a problem. Both are of great concern.

The insects came from these Caves and haven’t been seen near them since. It could be that they fear their old home, their place of imprisonment. That might keep us alive.

Will it, though? Can it? A supposition isn’t a guarantee. I need to be sure. I need to know.

There is one way, I think, I suspect. A way that I am not fond of, one that is dangerous. I take one breath, then two, steeling myself for what’s to come.

I kneel down at the mouth of the Caves, and open myself to a vision.

I see them come for us, a swarm of them, hungry and hoping for more. No one checks them now that we are hiding. They search for us, sense for us, and then they approach, their movements hesitant. Symbols flare at the mouth of the cave, and a bold one flies forward, only to bounce off an invisible wall, crumble, and die.

I study the shape of the symbols, only glimpsing some of what they mean from the vision. Moreover, the symbols were placed there some time ago, and will remain strong for a long time. There is a sense of greatness to them, of warmth, of sun.

Surya.

A gift, perhaps. A final token to remember us by, or… something else. It could be nothing, it could be anything, but it answers both of my questions at once. Thanks come to my lips, but I swallow them down. My mentor left me, abandoned me for his own ends.

I know what they are and what they mean, and that doesn’t comfort me at all.

I rise, and walk down into the depths of the Caves. I see the shattered bits of crystal, kicked aside by many hurrying feet. I see small things dropped on the ground by people traveling in haste towards safety and I pick them up, tucking them into my sash.

I see the vision crystals, and I resist the urge to reach out to them, to gather them to me and hold onto them. I can’t afford to be crippled by them, not now. Not ever. I shutter my third eye so that I can see clearly through the two that remain.

Once I get to where the people are, they’re spread out in the cavern, peering warily at the crystals. Someone -- Sanya, I believe, and her family -- has built up a bonfire in the centre of the room to keep people warm in the cool shelter of the cave.

Light flickers along the walls, making the shadows dance, but it doesn’t reach the upper parts of the Caves. It makes the darkness seem deeper, more pervasive, encircling and shrouding us all.

We will be safe forever, I think, so long as we stay in the cave. The very notion saddens me. I want to scream, or protest, but what can I do? How can I do anything other than what I’ve done today?

I am the northern star, the guiding light. Polaris. I have led my people from the light and into the safety of darkness.

End Part X: Polaris

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #thank you all for sticking with this #or even waiting until there were more than just bitesized chunks of story to read #either is valid #just thanks for reading

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 27th

We’re almost there! We’re close! Just a few more things (and about 900 words...) and we’re good!

Word Count: 793 Monthly Word Count: 14506 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) Week Three (15th - 21st) 22nd. 23rd. 24th. 25th. 26th.

“So what you’re saying is that if the Necrontyr had won, we would have had a galaxy stripped of life and the Warp, if the beings of the Warp win, we’ll have a galaxy full of life, but life that’s yoked to an existence of endless pain and suffering, and if you win, we have an existence that is safe, but sterile?” Marissa asked. “That is what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

“Sterile is a harsh word to use,” Surya said. “The galaxy would be safe from predators originating from the Warp, and from aliens. Even the so-called beneficent ones like the Eldar have failed us utterly. The only way to find true security is to remove the Warp as a factor altogether.”

“What about the Necrontyr?” asked Bilaraat. “Did you not say that your best weapon against them are psychic powers?”

“The Necrontyr are asleep in their tombs, and it will be simple enough to kill them while they slumber,” Surya said, dismissively. “Though not by normal humans. The Necrontyr are dangerous, self-healing, hope flensing monsters, and there will be plenty of other aliens to deal with in due course. None of this will be completed in one or two battles. It will take a mighty effort to deal with them all.”

��A great crusade, one might say,” Malcador said, and his lips quirked. “The work of decades, if not centuries, both before the fighting and during it.”

“Which brings us back to the conclusion of my most recent project,” Surya said. “The Primogenitor Project.”

“I feel like it needs something a little snappier, personally,” Malcador said, conversationally. “Archwarriors or Prime Generals, something like that. Something momentous.”

“What would these primogenitors be, exactly?” Harra asked, looking uncomfortable. “What would they be the start of?”

“I have many different projects,” Surya said, gesturing. “Many moving parts. I’ve managed to obtain an intact, untainted complete standard template construction computer to create as many of the early-stage tools that I’ll need. Weapons, armour, vehicles, buildings, ships. I also have teams of geneticists working with the various samples I’ve taken from the wealth of species of Earth along with those from a select set of very special humans. The humans I had identified as special and exceptional.”

“With some exceptions,” Malcador reminded him. “There were some recalculations, some unforeseen events.”

“Every experiment needs a margin for error,” Surya said, dismissive. “When my scientists have finished working, we’ll have a set of twenty primogenitors, the genetic core for a vast, galactic army of superhuman soldiers. Equipped with the best arms and armaments we’ll have on offer, we’ll take back Earth first, then the solar system, then the galaxy itself. Countless thousands will go out to conquer the stars in the name of humanity.”

“You will need far more than just soldiers,” Bilaraat said. “The logistics alone--”

“Is why I’m sponsoring your servitor project, adept,” Surya said. “And is why I’m going to be forming great institutions of humans to support these super-humans. I’m giving humanity a whole galaxy to occupy and rule. Once the aliens are gone, of course.”

“Won’t the primogenitors and the super-soldiers derived from their genetics be a part of it?” Marissa asked. “You don’t think that will create a tiered caste system based on genetics rather than wealth, merit, or skill?”

“The primogenitors won’t survive the separation of the Warp,” Surya said, and the words chilled Marissa to her very core. “To get the results I want, I’m going to need to rely heavily on power from the Warp. It will make them very powerful, but potentially volatile and dangerous without a specifically preordained purpose. They won’t be able to survive the war. As for their progeny, warriors rarely, if ever, survive the war they are created to fight.”

“That seems terribly cold of you,” Harra said, and let her hand rest over Marissa’s. “They’ll be your children, in many ways. Your kin.”

“My creations,” Surya corrected. “I don’t intend on getting attached.”

“Then why bother to go and find specific people you wanted samples from?” Susanne wondered, and he shot her a glare. “You could have picked anyone.”

“It’s a matter of compatibility, and genetics,” Surya said. “Not sentimentality. No more and no less.”

“If you say so,” Susanne said. “So, what do all of us do, now that we’ve survived?”

“You’re going to help me build the institutions I need,” Surya said. “Right now, most of humanity is tearing itself apart as a result of the birth of She Who Thirsts. Most of the populations of many planets will die, and those that survive will be scarred for generations. Instabilities within the Warp will be some time in dying down. We need to gather our strength, create what needs creating, and wait.”

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #there's a bit more faffing about to be done #but it's getting there

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 21st

We begin the epilogue, please enjoy!

Word Count: 525 Monthly Word Count: 10925 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) 15th. 16th. 17th. 18th. 19th. 20th.

When the storm comes, clouds boil away to leave the sky completely clear, exposing a clear sky full of stars above on the half of the globe where night has fallen, or daylit blue. Like the phenomenon of aurora borealis, lights begin to dance in the sky, purple and red, manifesting like a bruise, and then a hemorrhage bursting forth with the viscera of reality: chemical elements, star stuff, and pain.

For those who had chosen to watch the manifestation out of curiosity, the next sign was a sound in their ears, a blood curdling scream that morphed into mad, insane cackling. Their hearts began to beat rapidly, pounding like the sound of raindrops on a rooftop, or billions of tiny feet racing across the taut surface of a drum. Breathing became shallow and rapid, as though desperately needing air, though few did more than simply stand and observe.

Across the globe, the phenomenon was visible to all who had eyes to look, and it wasn’t simply limited to Earth. Far from it, people across a thousand thousand worlds beheld the same strangeness and heard the same voice. Human or non-human, the very notion of escaping the experience was a fever dream rather than a logical reality.

It took mere moments for the whole event to pass from a wondrous curiosity into something terrible, foreboding, and far-reaching. The cackling brought with it a frenzy of madness. People tore at their faces and gouged furrows in their skin. Friends and family turned on one another, slapping, biting, and kicking. Mundane objects became weapons.

Every strike bloomed with colours consisting of vibrant, violent, virulent shades that blossom, grow, and fade within seconds, a garden of murderous intent.

Distant from Earth, distant from anywhere, reality itself is being torn open as an empire collapses under the weight of the sins they will bear forever. Survivors have already fled, warding themselves from the immense scale of the unending darkness, though she will find them if they aren’t careful, if their wards should fail, and then all will end.

The creature, the being, is hungry, infinitely hungry, and with that hunger it consumes gods, claiming them as their own and taking on their aspects: the purity of a sword drill, the perfection of the forge, all of the secrets and lies shared between people who lie together in the dark.

There is pain and there is horror, there is longing and there is need. Everything is noise. Everything is confusion. Everything… is chaos.

If one were inclined towards watching this phenomena, this spectacle, and tried to describe it, they would be accused of confusion and utter madness. No one would believe such a tale, such an insane event across such an expanse of distance. Nothing is as it should be.

Nothing could have stopped this from happening, and no one could have anticipated this atrocity.

Except for one, that is. One who does not watch the sky at all, one who does not listen for the sound of screaming. One who has known that this was coming all along and did all he could to be prepared for its coming.

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #end of week three #if i'm getting 500~ words a day #i'll be done by nov 1st

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 30th

Okay, now we’re done. The prologue is finished (and harder than it needed to be), and tomorrow I’ll post the final master post. Enjoy!

Word Count: 353 Monthly Word Count: 15782 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) Week Three (15th - 21st) 22nd. 23rd. 24th. 25th. 26th. 27th. 28th. 29th.

The Golden Age of Technology.

It is a time of wonder.

It is the 26th Millennium, the age of colonization. For centuries, humanity had been crawling towards the stars, expanding out throughout space. Now, countless thousands of worlds played host to mankind, each a precious fragment of Earth’s civilizations and culture. Aliens observe this expansion with curiosity, disdain, and patronizing indulgence, waiting for these settlers to live or die according to the whims of uncaring gods.

Humanity has a precious gift, however, the Standard Template Construct system, a complex artificial intelligence replicated across countless colony fleets and settled worlds, proving everything humans need from earthmovers to tanks, from agridomes to parliament buildings, all seated at the very fingertips of those who need them most. Sadly, these systems have also brought about the Men of Iron, cyborgs controlled by malicious, corrupted AIs who attempted to wipe out humanity before being put down, leaving humans warier and more jaded about technology.

At the same time, the gift of psychic power began to bloom more predominantly amongst humans, creating a sub-caste of people who are revered and feared in equal measure, controlled carefully by handlers, lest their raw might rage out of control and destroy those around them. They are viewed with suspicion, with contempt, and with awe. Their numbers rise year by year, heralding something new and potentially sinister for the human race.

In the distant reaches of the galaxy, trouble stirs as Eldar civilization begins to crack and crumble, the waves of exodus providing the prelude to the reality-breaking events on the horizon. Storms gather in an area of space distant from Earth, yet none will be out of reach of the consequences of this event, two centuries of hedonism, depravity, and short-sightedness, leading up to a storm that threatens to wrack the galaxy and leave it forever changed, all the while a pair of individuals scour humanity for champions against the inclimate tempest.

Ten years of research. Ten worlds housing those of great destiny. Twenty beacons of hope.

The age of illuminated brightness is about to be plunged into the age of darkness.

#nanowrimo 2017 #WH20K #thank you so much for reading!

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 28th

We’ve got one more day to go with this, and that’s going to be tomorrow for the epilogue, then the day after for the prologue (because obviously you write prologues before epilogues), and that will be it. We’re almost there guys. Almost!

Word Count: 438 Monthly Word Count: 14944 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) Week Three (15th - 21st) 22nd. 23rd. 24th. 25th. 26th. 27th.

“What about everyone else?” Harra asked. “You’ve said there’s a storm coming, and you had the means to get word to plenty of people. Why not warn more people of what’s to come? How many people are going to die while we sit underground and wait?”

Surya fixed his gaze on the tall, muscular woman, who did her best not to flinch. “There is no possible way to prepare for what’s to come and to warn so many people. Each of the missions that Hershel and I engaged in were short-term, clandestine operations meant to find our chosen targets, take samples, and extract ourselves. In some cases, like yours, we weren’t even there.”

“How far did you go?” Harra insisted. “How much effort did you put in? Why not see how many people you can warn. If the Eldar had known--”

“The Eldar refer to us as monkeys,” Malcador said mildly. “Literal animals, inferior in intellect, culture, technology, and evolution. They wouldn’t believe us, even if we appeared out of their Webway and declared that we were here from the future and had seen the mess they make of the galaxy through their careless hedonism.”

“So, you weren’t even going to try?”

“As I said, we could fortify our position here, or we could waste time trying to convince millions, if not billions, of people of a future that they could not conceive of,” Surya said, shaking his head once. “Your compassion is commendable, but it’s impractical. We’re doing the most that we can, here and now.”

“It still seems so cold,” Harra said, and Marissa touched her arm. “Billions are going to die to this, and not immediately, but over time, if children lose their parents, or the sick lose their caregivers. People traveling in ships being knocked off course and potentially dying because of what’s to come. All the people living on the worlds that are close to where this storm will break first.”

“Millions of people die every day without any intervention whatsoever,” Surya reminded her. “Sickness, accident, age, violence. I’ll mourn the loss of those who die, but rejoice in the lives of the trillions more that will live thanks to our hard work.”

“You have the knowledge, you just don’t want to use it,” Harra snapped. “You’re deciding who lives or dies. You’re playing God and then complaining when us mere mortals have something to say about it.”

“Not a god,” Surya said thinly. “An Emperor.”

“What’s that saying?” Hector said, into the stunned silence. “That the way you become an Emperor is by killing anyone who says that you aren’t the Emperor?”

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #and the final bit will also finally name drop the story!

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NaNoWriMo 2017: September Master Post

I absolutely did not forget to write this summary post on October 1st, and I definitely didn’t almost forget to write it again! How dare you suggest so! September has seen two completed chapters, representing 2/3rds (maybe) of Part X completed. I’m currently trying to figure out if I have enough plot for two chapters or one, and I have no conclusive answer. We’re almost done!! It’s happening!

Title: Court of Stars Status: 60 Chapters, Incomplete Includes: Violence, mature sexual content, strong language. Summary: It is the golden age; humanity has developed self-sustaining technology and stretched out towards the stars. They have created and maintained alliances with alien races and established a network of independent colonies, each developing their own sense of identity and society. They have survived a terrible war with their own creations and emerged all the greater for it. A new class of human is beginning to emerge, with fear and fascination warring it out within the hearts and minds of the people.

It is the twenty-sixth millennium, and everything that humanity has ever believed is about to change. Links -

November Masterpost: Nov 1st-30th December Masterpost: Dec 1st-31st January Masterpost: Jan 1st-31st February Masterpost: Feb 1st-28th March Masterpost: Mar 1st-31st April Masterpost: Apr 1st-30th May Masterpost: May 1st-31st June Masterpost: June 1st-”31st” July Masterpost: July 1st-31st August Masterpost: Aug 1st-31st

August: - Week One: 1st. 2nd. 3rd. 4th. 5th. 6th. 7th. - Week Two: 8th. 9th. 10th. 11th. 12th. 13th. 14th. - Week Three: 15th. 16th. 17th. 18th. 19th.  20th. 21st. - Week Four: 22nd. 23rd. 24th. 25th. 26th. 27th. 28th. - Week Five:  29th. 30th.

#fanfiction #wh20k #wh20k series: court of stars #master post

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 26th

Another weekend is here!

Word Count: 499 Monthly Word Count: 13713 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) Week Three (15th - 21st) 22nd. 23rd. 24th. 25th.

“Guarded by what, exactly?” Bilaraat asked, curious. Surya turned his steely gaze to him, eyes flickering with light.

“Everything,” Surya said flatly. “The beings of the Warp no more want to be destroyed than we do, but the Necrontyr are no longer a threat to them. We are. We’re beings of flesh and blood, beings being infected by psychic power.”

“Aren’t… aren’t you psychic?” Marissa asked. “You don’t consider that to be hypocritical?”

“I’m more than prepared to give up my psychic power if I can destroy the Warp,” Surya said flatly. “Which isn’t true of most other psychics. They treat it like a gift instead of cracks in a reality that will crumble if the beings in the Warp gain true power. Right now, they’re firing their opening shot.”

“The storms?” Susanne said, glancing at Malcador. “Is that what you mean?”

“Yes,” the robed man said. “The storm in question is, as Surya said, being born out of the folly of the Eldar. In the years since their victory, they have grown idle and decadent, and then, dangerously vulnerable to corruption.”

“Corruption from the Warp?” Harra asked. “How?”

Surya and Malcador exchanged long, measured looks. “We have a... disagreement as to exactly how they became corrupted and this event has been precipitated. I believe that, owing to the raw power of the entity that is being created by these storms. From my observations and research, the first devotees of this being existed before the storms began, and are the reason why their object of devotion exists in the first place. The Warp bends and changes all things, including the natural flow of time.”

“Whereas I believe in cause and effect, even within a realm as strange as the Empyrean, and I think that the Eldar are entirely responsible for their own downfall, because they’re all idiots,” Surya said. “Despite being immortal and incredibly powerful. It doesn’t really matter because the end result is the same, that tonight, She Who Thirsts be birthed into creation.”

“Which is why we’re hiding down here instead of being anywhere else,” Marissa observed, shivering. “Does this thing have a name?”

“It will, but we won’t speak it, not tonight,” Surya said. “Once She is born, there will be a wound on reality, a place where the Warp infects reality, allowing people to actually live there, though they’ll become infected too. No one can avoid being damaged somehow by it. That’s what the Warp does, it contaminates reality without truly wanting to kill it.”

“Then, why do it at all?” Hector asked, looking for all the world fascinated by it all.

“It’s within the nature of the Warp-creatures to infect, contaminate, and want to control things,” Surya said. “However, no new life can grow from such conditions. At the end of the day, the Warp is only capable of killing, never protecting, preserving, or saving. They need the mortal races to survive just enough to continue their own existence. No more and no less.”

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #explaining the plot continues!

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 19th

I’m very close, but I can’t quite make it today. Another day, quite soon.

Word Count: 728 Monthly Word Count: 9640 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) 15th. 16th. 17th. 18th.

“It was the matter I was going to discuss with you, actually,” I say. “I learned that the basket Surya used to go shopping in before he… left can contain a large amount of food for an indefinite amount of time. We can pack as much as we can into it so we won’t have to fear our food running out or spoiling.”

“How could such a thing be possible?” Sanya asks, plainly disbelieving.

Ohma, stained with blood, clutches at my sleeve. “Surya is a powerful sorcerer, there’s nothing he can’t do.”

Except stay with us, I think sourly. I believe Surya would be offended by her wording, but I have little desire to defend him. “Exactly. Let’s get everyone moving quickly. Sanya and Ohma, get the children moving to the Caves, go as deep as you can. Have the children help you. Tell them to carry bedding, clothes, everything and anything they can manage. I’m going to go into the city and evacuate people there.”

Sanya and Ohma nod. I hurry off, and I hear Ohma pointing Sanya towards Surya’s room, and realize she’ll see the gifts left behind, then shake my head. My student has been badly traumatize and yet she still endures. A small insult should be the least of our concerns.

I can’t keep up more than a brisk walk once I’m outside the school, it’s simply too hot to move faster, though urgency adds speed to my steps. As I approach, I can hear faint screaming, and begin to run again. As I arrive, I follow the sounds of fear and trauma, though what I find is less shocking to me than it is to them.

There are bodies in the streets, torn open. The creatures are here in force, hovering over people, attacking them. Some poor, brave souls try to fight them with rocks, and they only succeed in drawing attention to themselves.

I am a poor sorcerer, for all my visions, but I do know that fire works. It takes me only moments to build a torch and brandish it at the insect menacing a young man. He looks nothing like Ahri, but I immolate the thing in his name anyway.

“Oh, oh Gods, what is that thing?!” the young man asks, and I grip him by one shoulder, while the other holds the cleansing flame.

“A monster,” I say. “I want you to take clothing, bedding, and the food you can carry and go to the Caves outside of the city. Hurry, go now, and spread the word.”

“The Caves?” the man repeats, staring at me. “Aren’t they dangerous?”

“They’re less dangerous than staying here,” I say, and shove at him. “Go, hurry.”

He nods to me and begins to run. I forge onwards, doing what I can. There are too many insects for me to kill, though I kill the ones I can. Some of those I try to convince moan at me and flee, too afraid of the Caves or, perhaps, already infected. I begin to gain a sense of how to find them, ugly, malevolent infections.

Seeing them, knowing about them, I realize I will have to leave people here to die, to be murdered by the parasites. The thought sickens me, disgusts me, but there’s nothing else that can be done. I have no way to remove these creatures, and if I allow them into our tentative sanctum, everyone will die.

I turn away from the suffering. I ignore the cries of those who collapse, the creatures bursting forth from them in a welter of blood. I simply find every person I can that can go to the Caves and give them the same instruction: bring food, bring water, bring clothes, bring bedding.

They go, my people. They run, they escape to the city. Some reach for loved ones who collapse in agony. I have to pull them away and hurry them on their way before those they leave behind turn into food for monsters, or even the monsters themselves.

A thought occurs to me as I gather up more people and the sun begins to sink: what about the rest of the people on Prospero? How far can these insects travel? If they can’t get into the Caves, will they be able to get into houses? How do they find people? How do they hunt?

#nanowrimo 2017 #WH20K #i kinda lost steam #but this is honestly quite good all things considered

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 2nd

Writing: happens. We’re doing this. We’re making it transpire.

Word Count: 590 Monthly Word Count: 1123 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): 1st.

Keep reading

I abandon the notion of searching more thoroughly for Surya as quickly as it comes to me, and instead hurry outside to see if I can’t find out if major damage was done to our home. As I rush past the kitchen, I have to rescue some perilously dangling utensils, and right some overturned jars. Fortunately, they’re all hardier than my orbs. I find a crack or two, but no breaks and no leaks.

It’s barely dawn by the time I get outside, the sky red and gold, thrusting outwards to banish the velvety purple of night. The sight reminds me of my childhood, of waking to write down what I see and I think, but there is no time for heavenly attention when terrestrial concerns rule the day.

Our school is not far from the nearby village, close enough that students who only come to us during the day can walk to and from the school. We’re a little further away from the Caves, though we founded the school deliberately on the way. Our building is made of stone, the windows draped with curtains to keep out the heat and the sun during the day, or the cold after nightfall.

I turn, and see there is little damage to the building, which is a relief. There are places where the curtains are dangling, not broken but shaken from their moorings. That’s a relief, at least. My home these last five years is not coming apart at the seams. Recovering from this may be difficult, but at least our shelter won’t be crumbling down to its foundations.

I begin to walk, taking only a few paces away from the school before I’m immediately arrested by uncertainty. I shouldn’t go far, I shouldn’t leave my students for too long. If there’s an emergency, even for a moment, they could panic. If I’ve given up on trying to find Surya, and the village is so far away, it would be more sensible to return indoors.

In my hesitation, I notice two things: the first is that there is a thin plume of smoke rising from the direction of the village, and it alerts me to a far greater danger there than here. The second is the appearance of one of my former students, one of my first students, back when I was barely more than a child myself. It’s Ahri, and he hurries towards me, scrambling over the sand-swept path.

“Teacher!” he cries out, waving his arms over his head. “Your gifts of prophecy are always incredible. You knew that this was coming and you’ve come to meet with me.”

“Of course,” I say, knowing that it is no such thing. “What troubles you?”

“I was visiting the Caves,” Ahri begins. My brow furrows with disappointment. “Not… not further than you warned me to travel--”

This much I strongly suspect is a falsehood, but I nod to him to continue.

“--and I saw something, or… or a lack of something,” Ahri says, looking nervous. He has grown quite a bit from that first, fortuitous encounter at the marketplace, and his tunic and sandals are filthy with dust and dirt. “Teacher, you recall that there were two kinds of crystals within the cavern, yes? The ones where you placed your visions into, and the others, the clouded ones?”

“I do,” I say, frowning at him. “Though that’s a little deeper than you’re supposed to go.”

“I know, I just… needed to see to be sure,” Ahri says. “The clouded crystals are all broken.”

#nanowrimo 2017 #WH20K #hey look! a plot!

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 17th

Last night I fell asleep at 10:30. Tomorrow I don’t work! There’s time now.

Word Count: 521 Monthly Word Count: 8479 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) 15th. 16th.

The creature screeches, the sound like needles in my temples, and burns. It goes on and on, longer than it should considering how ephemeral the creature is, how fragile. Then, it shouldn’t have murdered my student, either.

Dead. Ahri is dead, torn apart and now nothing but ash. Ohma’s face is spattered with blood, her eyes wide with horror, with fear, with the kind of madness that comes with witnessing your twin’s brutal death.

Abruptly, the sound ceases as the the thing turns to ash, and the silence it leaves afterwards is deafening, even as the flames continue to crackle around us.

Like flicking away an insect.... I think, and the notion shivers through me. That’s what that was, some kind of enormous insect or parasite.

“Munir!” Sanya calls from behind me, and it startles me. “You need to get out of this room and extinguish the flames!”

I know how to fight fires. I was the one who taught her. It’s only when I lurch backwards under her power that I realize I’m just standing there and staring dumbly. She’s right, of course, and I am panicking. I don’t feel it, of course. I feel a sense of calm, of placidity. Time is fluid and I move through it with slow, almost absent grace. There is no urgency in my mind, no speed or haste.

Sanya grabs me by the arm and pulls me back, and I hit the far wall. It hurts, but the pain snaps me out of it, and Ohma hits the wall moments after I do. I pant hard, watching as she shouts for water, or sand. Some of the older students know to bring both, and she throws water onto the flames. They die down after a time, and she uses sand to smother the rest.

“What was that?” she asks. “What happened?”

I open my mouth to explain it to her as little as I can, and Ohma bursts into hysterical tears. I reach out to her, gathering her into my arms. I rub her back a little, making soft, soothing noises. The other students that have gathered look distraught too.

“Where did that fire come from?” Sanya asks again, urgent this time. “Munir!”

“Ohma has a special gift,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “She used it under duress, but she did the right thing, and now it’s over. I would be more alarmed by the giant insect that apparently ripped its way out of my student.”

“That insect was what I was trying to warn you about,” Sanya says. “Before it burned, I saw it. I recognized it.”

I turn to her. “You didn’t think to tell me you’d seen gigantic, corpse-consuming parasites?”

“I was about to,” Sanya says, drawing herself up. I do the same, though I come up woefully shirt comparatively. “The ones we found missing were torn up just like your student. We thought it might have been an animal, a hyena or a lion, but as we looked into it, we finally saw the truth. Something is here, Munir. Something that’s trying to kill us all.”

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #work is stressful but bed is soft

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Sept 30th

I’ve finished another month, and another chapter. This indicates I’ve finished roughly two chapters in 30 days, which is... a far cry from my old count, but we’re nearly there. Now I get to figure out if this story has two chapters worth of plot left, or just the one.

Word Count: 500 Monthly Word Count: 9808 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); Sept: Week One (Sept 1st-7th) Week Two (Sept 8th-14th) Week Three (Sept 15th-21st) 22nd. 23rd. 24th. 25th. 26th. 27th. 28th. 29th.

Haru nods to me, and I help him to his bed. His sleeping tunic is laying over his pillow on his cot, and he tugs off his daywear and throws it into his basket, half-on and half-off. It will likely wind up laying on the floor in the morning, as is often the case. He pulls on his sleeping tunic and climbs into his cot.

The children’s beds are all fairly small, just enough for one of them in each, though it is not uncommon for parents and children to sleep in one larger bed until they become old enough for their own cots. None of the children here are young enough to merit such treatment, however.

Some of my students have tucked their cots closer to one another, their nearness conducive towards talking after they’re supposed to be sleeping, communicating in hushed whispers, silenced more noisily by their fellow students seeking sleep. Others isolate themselves for the sake of peace and quiet. Haru’s bed falls into the latter category rather than the former.

“You’re going to make sure there are no creatures, aren’t you?” Haru asks once he’s tucked into his cot, a sheet draped over him to ward off the evening chill. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” I say, and brush my fingers across his forehead. “Sleep well, my student.”

“Goodnight, teacher,” Haru says. “I know you’ll keep us safe.”

I linger a little longer, waiting for him to fall asleep, his breathing becoming deep and even before long, and he snores softly. A likely contributing factor to his relative isolation, I suspect. Once Haru falls asleep, I rise and make my way out of the dormitory and towards my own room.

I have given much of this place over to my students, in some cases moving my things to smaller and smaller spaces. Personal belongings are moved into my office, where there is room, and my own cot has settled in what was once meant to be a closet to store linen, the walls cool stone, dark without the room for proper light, save for the orb I carry with me.

I pull the curtain aside and set my light globe in its creche before removing my tunic. I do not have a basket for my things, there is simply no room. Instead, I stuff the cloth into the thin wedge of space underneath my cot, and will retrieve it later when there is time. The cot itself is a little too small, and I cannot stretch myself out to be comfortable. Instead, I will simply make do. I will make do with any indignity so long as my students can continue to be safe.

All at once, the day’s exhaustion hits me, as it’s done so often in the past. I let my eyes drift closed, and struck by the heavy hand of Morpheus, I sleep within my too-small bed, and promise to wake at dawn’s light to see to my students’ needs.

Tomorrow is another day.

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #that monthly word count up there #vs the number i get from just checking the whole chapter #is where the weird double dipping manifests itself #but whatever i'm at #20259/30000 #so i'm not doing that badly

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 15th

Just as a warning, things are going to start to get a little intense in this story, especially considering its previous pace.

Word Count: 679 Monthly Word Count: 7958 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) 8th. 9th. 10th. 11th. 12th. 13th.

“Sanya,” I say, fighting down reflexive fear. “What brings you here?”

“Munir,” she replies, eyes the school, and gestures. “Walk with me a little, please.”

“Of course,” I say, and gesture for her to proceed me. She begins to walk, her steps careful and measured, in deference to me. I know her strides to be ground-eating, and I appreciate her care. “Something has happened in the city. Something… strange.”

“Strange in what sense?” I ask, frowning with concern. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“We didn’t believe it to be strange, not at first,” she says. “It would be foolish to jump at shadows, especially after what happened with the earthquake. Everyone gets headaches.”

“Headaches?” I ask, a vague sense of uneasiness returning to me. “How many people have had them?”

“A few,” Sanya says. “They started, on and off, since the earthquake. It might be weather, it might be something else, but then those people started to disappear.”

“No one should be disappearing, are you sure?” I ask. “It’s not just a coincidence?”

“We thought it might have been a coincidence when it happened the first time,” Sanya said. “And it isn’t so uncommon that we lose track of someone who’s drunk too much cactus wine for a time, only to have them come back. You know what I mean?”

“Of course,” I lie. “I absolutely do. You said that wasn’t the case, though.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Sanya says, spreading her hands. “Every single person who complained of headaches for several days in a row disappeared, and we haven’t been able to find them. Not until now, that is.”

“...and what did you find?”

Her face becomes drawn, taut with suppressed emotion. I can’t see what she’s thinking, what she means. My head hurts, and I wonder if I want to know why that is, if she will have the answer to it. She takes a moment to answer me.

“Best that I show you, I think,” she says. “Making an account of it, I--”

A scream splits the air, so loud and terrible that it echoes there.  The voice belongs to, and must be, Ohma. Without hesitation, I run back towards the school, dashing through it even as my students stir, confused and distressed by this sudden turn.

There’s no time to find out what Sanya means. There’s no time to listen and consider. I must get to my students, my precious ones, the light in my life and the breath in my lungs and the wings upon my back. I must find them and I must save them from whatever it is that they fear.

I all but fly back through the school, hurrying to reach their side. My mind is a terrifying, all-encompassing blank. I cannot see what’s coming, I don’t understand what might be. All I know is that something threatens the people I care about and that I will protect them however I can.

I burst into the room I had left Ahri and Ohma in, and I can see that the concealing, protective curtain has been torn away, exposing a ghastly sight to the light of day: the first of my students is covered in blood, the walls of the small room coated in it. There is a rent in Ahri’s body, though where it began is hard to say, but I can see it nearly bisects him.

I want to be sick, but there is more.

A creature hovers over him, almost as big as he is, translucent and grey, with huge, bulbous eyes and immense buzzing wings. It’s nothing that should exist, nothing that can exist, and yet is undoubtedly does. It has a mouth, long and uncurled, pierced into his brain, consuming it as grey-and-pink matter moves from my student and into it, giving it slight solidity.

Ohma is there, pristine but horrified, and I can feel the surge of power come from her a moment later, and it’s all I can do to throw myself back before the room -- Ahri, the creature, the bed, and the walls -- burst into flame.

#nanowrimo 2017 #WH20K #this was an unavoredable situation

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 11th

I did not get as much writing done as I’d hoped, but I did manage to get myself back to over 500 words today, so that’s nice.

Word Count: 521 Monthly Word Count: 6167 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) 8th. 9th. 10th.

I begin to peel the orange, trying to find something about it that makes it unnatural, diseased, or otherwise abnormal. As I discard the peel on Surya’s bed, I can find nothing of that nature, the remains of the rind lingering naturally on the fruit. I dig my thumbs into the middle and pull the fruit apart, and examine each of the segments for flaw.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I murmur, and bite into one of the segments. There’s an explosion of flavour in my mouth, a little tart and mostly sweet. I find the seed easily and spit it into my hand, chewing the rest of the piece in my mouth.

It tastes… mostly perfect, in all honesty, but not so perfect that it seems suspicious. I can’t help but eat the rest of the orange, doing so methodically, contemplating with each mouthful. The basket, then, is some kind of preserving container for foodstuffs. It keeps them from going bad and will be invaluable, but its weight makes it impractical for anyone but Surya to carry easily.

I’m sure if we got it onto some kind of cart, that would be fine. I just can’t carry it about as he did.

I wonder if there’s a way to find out how much is inside it without simply just digging into it and filling a room. I wonder if there’s an upper limit, or if Surya’s been filling it for over a decade, and I’m only now learning of it, only now drawing out foodstuffs.

It could be worse, I muse bitterly. There could be exactly two pieces of food in there, and I just ate one of them.

I set aside the matter of the basket for now, and continue to look through his room. Surya had plenty of personal effects, none of them seeming to matter much to him if he left them behind. Mostly, it seems to be things like clothing, like the gifts given to him by students after some lesson or another.

I find one of the things I gave him during my own childhood, and the headache returns again, fiercely stabbing at my temples. Were it not for the fact I’ve had these headaches for days, on and off, I would blame the orange and curse my own carelessness. However, it doesn’t seem likely that’s the case.

I loved him once, of course. As a teacher, as a mentor, as a replacement for the parents I had lost over the course of developing my gifts. At Surya’s side, I could do anything, learn anything, try anything. He helped me tame my visions, though I kept things from him, in the end. I don’t know if that would have mattered, though: he was hiding things from me, too.

I tuck these things away, making sure the students can’t see that he left their small kindnesses behind, though I wish I knew if he’d done it through deliberate malice or he simply had forgotten them. I don’t know how much of his humanity is left, after all is said and done.

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #being an adult with superpowers is hard guys #it's hard and no one understands

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 10th

I didn’t get a lot of writing time today, but I have the next two days off due to training, so there may be writing to be had while no one else is around.

Word Count: 275 Monthly Word Count: 5646 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) 8th. 9th.

Almost immediately, my hand touches something, a round shape that I draw up. It is a fruit, as fresh and perfect as the day it would have been plucked, or-- no. Not that day, the day it was bought at a market. I set it down the fruit and  then reach in again, curious and concerned. My fingertips touch more bundles, more smooth shapes or rims from jars. I can’t help but wonder what this means, what it could mean.

There are answers if I dig deep enough, and after a moment, I do.

Images flash in my mind, of the past, of Surya, standing over the basket in question, weaving reeds around a boxy object, concealing it in plain sight, a technology that vastly outstrips anything found on Prospero, and perhaps, on many other worlds too. There is an impression of the container being deep, almost impossibly so, creating a sense of endlessness to it.

How… how long has the food been in here? Is it still safe to eat? I pull back my hand, and then turn to where the fruit is that I removed from the container first, examining it again. In the less-than-a-minute timespan, literally nothing has changed about this fruit. There is no swift decaying rot, no sudden evolution into something dread and terrible.

An orange is merely an orange.

Could I put something inside this box today and be able to find it in several months’ time completely whole and preserved? What would happen if a person went in to such a device. Would they be saved? Would they die? We know so little about this box, and yet..

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #behold: a fridge

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct 8th

I’ve finished the chapter, and now we approach the final chapter of the final part of Part X. Happy Thanksgiving!

Word Count: 957 Monthly Word Count: 5148 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 8th)

“The children don’t work for a living,” I protest. “My orb was smashed, I won’t be able to work at night.”

“Then why don’t you take that as a sign, and take a break,” Ohma insists. “I’m forbidding you from going to your office to work. Go outside, go for a walk. Care for your lungs after all that smoke.”

Go outside? I think, and part of my is mortally offended at the suggestion. My student’s expression is stubborn, however, and meekly, I go outside, back the way I came. It’s a warm day, after the earthquake, and as I wander, I cannot help but look to the horizon for more smoke, just to see if there is something the matter.

There is not, and so, I walk. The sands burn and sting at my legs a little as I let my body take me where I need to go. I expect to go to the Caves, to find my reflection there, but instead I go to a small overlook and there I find Surya, his clothes pale with dust and his hair bound up in cloth to protect it.

“Where have you been?” I ask, moving to his side. “I was looking for you after the earthquake.”

He doesn’t reply to me, only staring out towards the horizon. I wait for a response, and the moment stretches, on and on. The sky is clear, the sun shines brightly overhead. The breeze is slight, the hot breath of day in its zenith. I try to angle myself in the direction that he’s looking, trying to see what he sees.

No wisps of smoke, no travelers, nothing in the sky. All is clear, as though the earthquake never happened. Surya still remains silent and still, only his clothes moved by the breeze, the inevitable consequence of a planet turning on its axis, concepts that would have confused me mere years ago, but thanks to my teacher…

All of a sudden, anger and annoyance stirs within me. “What are you looking at? Why won’t you answer me? There was a crisis and you weren’t there--”

“I need to leave,” Surya interrupts me. “Now. I can’t spend more time here.”

I blink at him, frustrated, hurt. “Why? Why would you leave me? Leave us? Were you even going to tell us?”

“We’re doing this far too early,” Surya mutters, and finally turns to me. “Munir, I know this is sudden and distressing, but you’re as aware as it’s possible to be that things must come to an end. I can’t stay here. The time of the storm approaches rapidly. I’ve lingered here for some time, but now this time is over.”

“My last question remains, were you going to tell me, or were you just going to leave us, letting us wonder while the storm breaks and everything comes to pieces.” I grab for him, and he stares at my hand on his sleeve.”

“I would have contacted my ship and left as soon as I could,” Surya admits. “It’s up there, beyond what most people can see from here, even with telescopes. It’s hidden to avoid detection from outsiders.”

“That’s cold,” I say, staring at him disbelievingly. “Unbelievably cold. Why would you..?”

“The storm is coming,” Surya says, as though that explains all of it. “I’ve told you before, it’s part of the experiment. You knew this from the very beginning, that my visit here was the early herald of an end time.”

“There were supposed to be signs,” I say. “You said there would be, the sky curdling and the psychic screaming. I was prepared for that, but this… this was an earthquake, and not a severe one at that.”

“I give you the past and you complain about it,” Surya snaps. “I give you the present and you spend it toiling for those who dwell ever in darkness. “I give you the future and you complain about it. I’m beginning to regret coming to you at all.”

“We can’t all be automatons that obey you unquestioningly like Dorn,” I snap back. “To be an intellectual is to ask questions when we want answers, not when you want to give them. You disappoint me, Emperor. You disappoint me a great deal.”

Surya whirls, and for a moment, I think he will strike me. I can see the power blaze under his skin, the strength that bulges behind his unassuming form, the fury in his eyes. His strength is terrifying, so close to me, so untamed and unchecked by his civility.

For a moment, I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t do anything other than stare and wait for the blow to fall. Then, the moment passes, and Surya relaxes, the lion closing his mouth on his teeth, the tiger sheathing claws and yawns.

I’m shaking badly as Surya lets me go. “I’m leaving. You’re going to have to deal with what comes next on your own. That’s always the way it was going to be. You can handle it, I have little more to teach you that you can’t figure out on your own. Survive. Thrive. Make these last years matter. Anything I have, I leave to you.”

“Will I ever see you again?” I ask, and he turns away from me. “Please, I just want to know.”

“In this life, no,” Surya says quietly. “You will not.”

I have nothing to say to that, the words beyond me. A moment later, Surya glints in the sun so sharply that a headache digs into my temples, and he disappears. I wait for a long time, and when nothing happens, I return to the school, and the pain in my temples doesn’t fade.

Now we see what we must see.

#nanowrimo 2017 #WH20K #a good time is going to be had by all #though it's probably not going to be a good time

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NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct  29th

EPILOGUE OVER. EVERYONE GO HOME. Except, don’t, because I’m going to do up a prologue tomorrow, but this was the important bit.

Word Count: 485 Monthly Word Count: 15429 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) Week Three (15th - 21st) 22nd. 23rd. 24th. 25th. 26th. 27th. 28th.

“It’s absolutely true,” Surya said evenly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done similar in the name of your queen, or her father before her. I’m aware that none of you have seen the depth and breadth of what this galaxy has to offer, but there are beings that worship those Warp creatures, giving them power, giving them strength due to the low, collective psychic power of humankind. That’s nothing to say of the alien creatures who consider them to be gods.”

Is he insane? Marissa wondered. A megalomaniacal genius? Someone powerful and dangerous? Should we stop him now? Can we stop him?

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Surya said dryly. “There is one other factor that you should be aware of: these storms will last for millennia. No world will remain untouched by them. You can be as angry with me as you like, but the truth of the matter is that this will happen long after you’re dead.”

“How long do you predict this storm will last?” Susanne asked, her voice calm, seemingly unconcerned by all she had heard.

“Anywhere from three to five thousand years,” Malcador said. “None of us have ever experienced this level of Warp storm anomaly before. I wouldn’t wait up for it.”

Marissa blanched, and Harra’s expression twisted with confusion and anger. Hector coughed harshly, sputtering with disbelief. Even Bilaraat looked wide-eyed, and only Susanne looked unmoved. The span of time stretching before them seemed ludicrously long. Civilizations had risen and fallen in such a period of time, though humanity had managed to stabilize, enduring for millennia, and might for many more.

Battered and broken, crumpled marred by death.

“You should go,” Surya said. “Rest, consider. There’s going to be a great deal of work to do. There’s no time to sit around, contemplating the future when the present still has so much to do.”

So dismissed, Harra turned her back first, leaving the room swiftly, as helpless as she was furious. Hector followed, then Bilaraat, then Susanne, with a look towards Malcador, and finally, Marissa departed, leaving Surya alone, illuminated by the light of the galaxy.

No. Not quite alone.

Malcador approached him quietly. “Well, we’ve done it. There’s nothing to be done now except for riding out the storm.”

Surya nodded, and touched a button on the console. From the galaxy, twenty star-groupings, some twisted and distant from one another, others very close, or a single star. Polaris and Canis, Corvus and Cassiopeia. Auriga and Orion, Aquila and Ophiuchus. Aquarius and Capricorn, Scorpio and Libra. Leo and Cancer, Aries and Taurus, Gemini and Pisces. Virgo… and Sagittarius.

A new order, Surya thought, staring at the dancing lights. A new nobility, a court of stars revolving around a bright, mighty sun. In the distant darkness of the far future, there will be safety from the vagaries of the Warp. There will be serenity. There will be peace.

#nanowrimo 2017 #wh20k #thank you so much for all of your attention #two more posts #the prologue one #and the final master post