u/Coogypaints

So I finally started writing the opening to my story yesterday and I finished it this morning, I can smell heaps of editing incoming but this is the raw unpolished version, overall I’m happy with it as it’s the biggest piece I’ve done in a long time and I had writing block for a bit and couldn’t start. Have a read! Please share your thoughts! I’ve never attempted to write a full story before so it’s my first real go here

1

AWAKENING

The fortress stood strong, the mind protected from festering anxiety by grand architecture forged crudely from the master’s hand, warped walls formed by priorities and values carved into them to guide him. Everything was an imitation of technology and industrial aesthetics. The master himself sat upon a throne in the heart of his labyrinthine vault, hands busy either forging narratives and designs for his life ahead, or scripting complex conversations that could never happen like lines of code with selection statements triggered depending on predicted responses. Outside the walls was the vast expanse of raging, rumbling, raw emotional storms battering the walls, powerful enough to rumble the grounds yet not strong enough to crack the infrastructure of the grand fortress and seep through into the frontal lobe, which would derail the mind with existential dread of concepts and ideas of malice. 

One night would leave that fortress permanently weakened.

Through the welling of raw emotion, a monstrous entity was formed; crooked wings spanning outwards, cursed runes etched into its skin incomprehensible to most, bearing a tyrannical blade roaring with terror. Twisted faces bulging out of its body performing utter mockery of the master’s values of loyalty and kinship.

The living embodiment of such horrid concept of violence and blind slaughter  to betray battle-hardened devotion to family.

It sprinted across the barren plains towards the fortress, each foot throwing up clods of mulched innocence and warmth. Wicked energy crackling around it’s body as it readied the blade to strike, and the sword was swung forth.

The wall buckled inwards with the strike, like it was loose cobble.

Jagged debris tumbled down as the entire fortress groaned and rumbled in retaliation. A blast of negative energy roared through the fortress with relentless force.

The master froze; pencil in hand, mid sentence, a sketch half done, the hand began to lightly shake.

Oppressive waves of guilt and shame suddenly pummeled him with dreadful realisation. He jolted from the throne in fear; this was not expected, there was no prediction of such event. 

The entity charged at him, piercing through the labyrinth and destroying the walls in a direct breach straight towards the master. The master scrambled, looking for any form of defence or protection.

But there was none.

With an almighty crash, the entity burst through a wall straight into the throne room and leapt at the master and raised its blade of fear, and swung it down upon the master. Everything went silent, and a sonic boom followed. The master stood there, mouth open yet no words or sound formed, a gaping wound in his chest leeching with blood.

The master slowly gazed down at the damage, lowering a jittery hand to touch it. And he looked back up to the entity, which stared him down with no mercy through a wretched smile. Wincing, the master fell to the ground, crawling away towards the throne where his book and pen was rested upon the small desk beside. Triggered, the entity followed him to the throne; but held back on dealing the final blow, without intention? It appeared that it was trying to raise its sword once more, but was being forced down by a powerful energy pouring from the broken walls.

The master reached the throne and scrambled up the steps, grabbing onto an old TV wedged into jumbled circuitry for support. Confused, the entity continued trying to force the mysterious energy off of it, reaching for the pen on the table. With a furious roar, the entity grabbed the pen and threw it across the room, and attempted to laugh.

But the master had made it to the throne, resting his arms on the table. The entity was confused, why was he still at the book? He had no pen now to write or draw anything. But the master looked up at the entity and the fear seemed to fade, replaced by… 

A smile of dutiful determination?

The master yanked at the circuitry and pulled a wire free, and inserted it into the wound with a cry of pain. The entity charged at the master but he held his other arm out and pressed it against the entity, shielding his other arm. Blood dripped from the wire as he moved it towards a blank page in the book, and he drew a square shape within another square; followed by two slit-eyes and sharp eyebrows, and a toothy mouth hanging underneath, finishing with a Mohawk on top of the square. 

The scent of blood filled the air, paired with a deep reddening of the atmosphere around the ruined fortress. The entity looked around in bewilderment, a visage of almost slight concern appeared in its face. 

All storms faded, winds died down and the air turned heavy and silent around the throne room.

A powerful drumming sound rumbled through the space, followed by roaring and chanting. The entity unfolded its wings in sudden shock as it peered through a clearing in the fortress.

A legion.

A legion that spanned from one side of the mind to the other, denser than a stampede of animals. The chanting and drumming got louder and louder as they thundered forward. As they got closer, more details became clearer.

Robotic, bulky, complex in style yet simplistic in design. Each one bearing a head reminiscent of a box TV, with sharp features displayed on the screen as if they were retro computer-game enemies. They had shining silver armour with deep blue limbs sprouting from their cubic torsos. Some nearer to the smacking-front of the charge bore a bright red Mohawk clamped by a gold lining onto their heads, with a torn cape nailed onto their backs, elevating them from the blander bots behind them.

For the first time the entity reared back in panic. It lifted the sword to declare a charge, but hesitated. The robot legion had outnumbered it by hundreds of thousands, each one already looking like a brutal warrior forged for combat. They were only a few hundred feet away now, and became more visible through the huge dust storm they had kicked up; barbaric blades and blunt heavy weapons paired with crude firearms, nothing too fancy, but something about the sheer simplicity of this legion had stirred uneasiness in the entity.

With no preemptive signal, the ruins were stormed at by successive smatterings of bullets. Eldritch roars muted under plinking of rounds fired with wilful abandon as the legion closed in. The entity folded it’s wings to shield it from the incoming fire, but the rounds tore through them with ease, and in a hasteful manner the entity started for them to put the bots down. A robot commander raised it’s jagged blade towards the entity, and let out a metallic roar that hissed and sparked as they made contact with the entity. The entity was swarmed by numerous robots blindly swinging their array of melee weapons around their foe, thick red blood splattering upon their shining armour.

The entity shrieked and performed a mighty flurry of sweeps into the legion, rapid exchange of blood and oil as blows were traded. No sense of order, just relentless slaughter.

Relentless slaughter… 

Eight months of endless battle later.

The master stood before the ruins of the fortress. The atmosphere felt light, but light with exhaustion. Before him lay robot corpses in their thousands scattered across the vast landscape, with beaten clad and bloodstains and oil haphazardly smeared around the field. 

He scanned the surroundings, and sighed. “The fear no longer burdens me to the core of my soul?” His words were laced with uncertainty. The wound on his chest had now healed, forming a scabbed scar. 

Through the rubble, some of the robots were still alive; each one ridden with damage and torn armour, once shining steel now rusted orangish-brown with dried blood, Blades dulled and snapped. Each one were no more than mindless automata patrolling the derelict area. 

The master looked at the book, and picked up the pen on the floor. He turned the page, and pressed the pen to paper.

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I have so fights I’ve been debating with my brother and friends about:

Chaos gods vs Gojo

Chaos gods vs Goku

Goku vs the emperor (prime)

Goku vs the Necrons

And all pointers lead to the factions and characters from Warhammer winning, but I’d like to hear your takes on these imagined matchups because I’m a heretical chaos worshipper and I die on this hill that they beat Goku

I was iffy at first, but I think it’s kinda cool, the idea that the emperor cannot leave the throne and they must put him back on there is really good for conflict within the imperium

What are your thoughts?