1,595A/N: I could only think of one feasible starting point for this story. Here. We. Go.
Have mercy! I'm new to Warhammer and doing my best to learn, but I've got the basics down. I find myself rather fond of the Salamanders at that...
Might not even be a proper pairing in this story. Warhammer -espeically 40k from what I've garnered thus far- isn't exactly known for that.
Also! SO! MANY! BOOKS!
With my sixteenth year anniversary on this site finally here, I find myself reflecting on the little things in life. What was once a lazy pastime meant for me and a few friends really grew and evolved over time. There are days when I look back on the last fifteen years here and I wonder if anyone will remember me; if I made an impact, despite never making a single cent on any of these stories. Some days were happier than others, and some stories I enjoyed writing WAY too much; to the point where I'd stay up all night working on them.
And of course, there are times when I look to the future and wonder what will become of things when I'm gone. Until then I will keep writing.
So here we go. The fate of this story depends on you, the reader. Your feedback determines the fate of this tale, and many others.
As ever, I own no references, quotes, themes or memes. They are tributes one and all
I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild wacky world, one word at a time.
Soundtrack for this chapter was Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine 2 (Concept Theme) by Jared Moreno Luna.
Here weog!
"This is no place for the kindhearted. There is only war.
This mercy you spout, this empathy? Weakness.
Kill the boy, I say. And let the man be born."
~?
Kill the Boy
He found the boy lying in the snow.
In truth, he didn't notice them until he stumbled right over them, such was the snowstorm; if it weren't for his walking staff, he would've fallen right over them. Even then, it was hardly something he expected. It was a chance encounter; something he hadn't prepared for. A small part of him wanted nothing more than to move on; to retire for the evening with what little food he'd managed to hunt and forget he'd seen anything. Such was his way these days. Whatever had happened here, it clearly wasn't any business of his.
The rest of him, however...
.
..
...
...damn his bleeding heart. Some thing snever changed.
With a long-suffering sigh, he knelt to inspect the soon-to-be-corpse.
Their back was a red ruin, their body cold and near-covered by windswept snow, shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breath, heart barely beating. They had fought hard and fast against a great many foes until they finally fell.
And yet, for all that, they were victorious.
He looked up and saw their handiwork; and what work it was; he'd not noticed them in the snow at first but now he did; they were surrounded by broken and bloody bodies for miles and every direction, the drifts steamed with blood, both theirs, and those of their enemies. None of them had died clean deaths.
The sight of it chilled him deeper than the snow itself.
Clearly, this was no mere boy. This was a monster anyone who could inflict such carnage such brutality, was clearly a danger to the world and themselves. He looked back to the dying lad, unable to see his face clearly in the snowstorm, but he could hear his heart raging just as fiercely as the blizzard surrounding them. Baffled, he reached down with a bandaged hand and wiped the snow away, the better to inspect their wounds.
Surely he wouldn't live much longer; not as he was now.
And even if they did, with wounds like those...
Death would be a mercy.
Some might even call it kind. In his current state, the boy likely wouldn't even feel it. Was that not mercy, kindness in its purest form? He'd seldom been shown such in his youth. All he had to do was reach down, grab him by the neck, and twist. A simple and clean end for one who had already suffered so much.
.
..
...
A bandaged hand reached out for him, only to stop short as the boy whimpered in his sleep.
Scarred fingers curled in on themselves apprehensively. He knew pain. He knew what it was to be attacked on sight, to be hunted down like a dog for no sin of his own but that of mere existence. What had this boy done, to anger so many? Was this a battle of his own doing, or had this fight been forced upon him?
Should he kill him? Could he? Did he even want to...?
"Do it then, warrior." a dark voice crooned in his ear. "End him. Give the boy your so-called mercy."
His right hand twitched, clutching his staff and stilling a tremor.
Ignore.
"Well? What are you waiting for?"
Ignore it.
"Why do you hesitate?" the words came on again, goading him to action. "End him, in my name. Deny yourself no longer. Kill the boy, descend the mountain, wreak ruin upon this world, and I shall grant your every desire."
Ignore the voice. It is not real. It can never BE real.
"I am very real, as you well know. And you deny yourself."
A red haze crept in at the corners of his vision. He closed his eyes against it.
"You spare the people of this planet out of some misguided mercy. Discard such foolishness. This is what you are. It is what you were made for the moment they put that beast in your belly and it is what you always WILL BE NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO-
He slammed his staff down, sending a shockwave of light skittering across the tundra; to which voice in his head recoiled with a savage snarl.
The snow lifted at his feet, briefly defying gravity before settling down once more.
And the storm raged on around him.
Alone once more, he allowed himself to breathe as the blizzard howled anew; allowed the sound fill his ears, drowning out the ringing left behind. He shuddered, clutching his worn cloak about himself for warmth he could no longer truly feel. He had resisted temptation once more. He remained himself.
But for how much longer?
Dismissing the worrying thought for now, he rolled the boy over in the hopes of at least seeing his face. That proved to be a mistake; he nearly gasped at what he found there.
The boy's chest was a red ruin, tattered, scraps of cloth, clinging to torn and sundered flesh. By rights he should be dead with such wounds.
An unruly frown crossed his weathered face, prompting words for the first time in what felt like a long, long time. "Who are you...?"
The boy gasped back to life, startling him terribly.
He took a swift step back as a ragged breath escaped the youth; his chest heaving sharply, and as he looked on, incredibly, the wounds in his chest began to close. Within a matter of moments they were gone altogether, leaving healthy flesh in their place.
Wide, panicked eyes sought his, and with them came a flash of feral fear.
The boy did what all boys did when they were afraid; he lashed out.
"Raaargh!"
A powerful fist surged upwards at his face, clumsy and inaccurate, weakened by fatigue. He subsequently caught it an open palm and wrenched it -followed by the boy himself!- down to the ground. Even then, the young lad's sheer strength made him struggle for a moment before he managed to subdue him.
...it surprised him. Few things did these days.
"Stop." he all but bit the word out, raising his voice to be heard over the storm. "You'll hurt yourself."
The boy did not; he raged against him, kicking and screaming, and snuggling like some mad beast.
He was just a boy. How was he this strong? What was he?
Somehow, the boy managed a thrash his way upright and punch him in the face. He saw stars -whole galaxies!- and reeled for a moment before recovering.
In that moment, that fleeting sliver of a second, he lost control.
Blue eyes bled red as his body blazed with golden fire. "I SAID STOP!"
His command -more of a growl really- stopped the bloody boy in his tracks and knocked the fight right out of him. The youth slumped back to the snow, exhausted, the last of his strength leaving him. He planted a boot upon his chest, then leaned down with a good bit of weight to keep him there.
Yet despite that, the boy's gaze still simmered with life.
"Are you like the others?" he glared up at him, his voice a low rasp, face frozen somewhere between anger and anxiety. "Are you going to hurt me, too?"
The words twisted something deep inside of him something he thought long since lost. The youth mistook his silence for affirmation.
"Do it, then!" he spat at him. "Kill me and be done with it! I won't let you take me alive! I am no one's slave!"
"..."
"Kill me now!" The boy demanded! "End me! Before I end you!"
There was fire in him, even now. Such strength. Such sorrow. Such potential.
Should he really throw all of that away on a hunch?
"No." he decided at length. "I don't think I will."
He would not satisfy the voice.
The boy blinked up at him as he stepped back, squinting through the snow, utterly baffled. "...why?"
Because he reminded him of himself, once upon a time. But he could hardly say that now, could he? The boy would ask questions, and he was in no mood to answer.
So he asked one of his own instead. "What's your name?"
"...Angron." The bloody boy slump to back into the snow, realizing at last that he truly meant him no harm. "My name is Angron. Who are...?
The beginnings of a careworn smile plucked at whiskered cheeks. "Who am I...?"
Now that was the question, wasn't it?
He had as many names as there were winds, as many titles as there were ways to die. He had accrued many more since he found himself stranded on this godforsaken world.
In the end he settled for that with which he'd grown most familiar:
"Naruto."
A/N: So it begins.
No nails for our angry boy!
Which means there CHANGES a'coming!
We can jump ahead if you prefer... ...or we can stay in the moment awhile longer. Perhaps the best of both worlds? Your choice. Do let me know.
Feedback is important! Reviews are the fuel that keeps me writing. That's no joke. I really am sorry that the chapters are shorter these days, and the updates slower, but I'm trying my best. Silence hurts more than any flame...without feedback, I can't write a single world. Seriously! So speak up! Every word -and every review!- really does matter!
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas... ...Review, Would You Kindly?
Here, have some previews. Lemme know what you think!
And as ever: Possible spoilers! Seriously!
Mostly the same previews here.
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
SPOILERS AWAIT AHEAD!
YOU WERE WARNED~!
(Previews)
To say they conquered the planet would have been an understatement.
A son of the Emperor and a Fox from Another World.
All of Nuceria trembled in their wake.
"...that is my son."
"Yeah?" the whiskered warrior bit back, "Then be a good dad to him."
The Emperor stared at him intently, this seemingly frail, fragile creature that dared defy him so. Bloody and wounded as he was, he still stood tall.
He had protected his son. More than that, he had raised him to be a good man.
Better than expected.
Who knew what Angron would have become, if not for him? He had power, yes, but it was not of him, not of the Warp. It was something else. Something different. Something new. An aspect he had not encountered before. He was touched by Chaos, yet resisting, had resisted for some time now, it seemed.
An idea dawned.
"You're fine just the way you are. Ain't nothing wrong with wanting to build stuff, ya know? Be your best self."
Perturabo physically flinched. "Say that again."
"I'll say it as many times as you need!"
He offered him his hand. "Friends, then?"
Horus clasped it. "So may it be."
"Oi, Lorgar."
What is it now-
CLONK!
Erebus ran for his life.
"GET BACK HERE! I ain't done with you!"
She blinked. "Curious...
R ~!