Aeternis-WHA
10-01-2009, 03:29 AM
With the release of Mythics wonderful new Fan Fiction program, writers from all over the Warhammer Community can have their carefully crafted tales featured on Warhammeronline.com, and become truly published!
The program kicks off with our very own Melchais Fallion of Phoenix Throne and his spooky story of Chaos and intrigue.
Excerpt:
With a flutter of black wings and a raucous cry, the raven settled on the ancient skull. A hundred years or more in the past, the skull had belonged to a predecessor of Alvar's or one of their worthier foes—now, though, it was yellowed and crumbling. One of the raven's scaled black talons curled roughly around the rusted spike that stuck through it.
The raven watched Alvar with wary, intelligent eyes. The Blood Champion spat. Such an omen needed no doddering soothsayer to decipher. The raven atop a broken skull?
"If that is," he murmured, "then so be it. My skull is the Bloodfather's."
"What?" asked Durm beside him. His rough, unguarded voice broke the white silence and the raven's calm. It clamored away, beating its wings noisily.
Alvar cast his gaze to his fellow sentry, his second-in-command. In a time of war, it was traditional for the Blood Champion to keep the watch. Out of their bond of brotherhood, Durm, his Bloodseeker, had offered to stand beside him in this vigil. He was grateful for the support.
"Nothing, good friend," Alvar replied. "I merely ponder the battle to come."His bond-brother smiled and nodded.
"And a glorious one it shall be," Durm replied fiercely. "Never has our clan faced such a foe as Tchar'zanek. Soon many skulls shall be brought before our Father."
Alvar wished that he could bring himself to agree so heartily. Was this seed within him, this doubt, a weakness? Ought his compatriot, his equal in every set of arms and ever the more fervent devotee of Khorne, to be tribe leader in the bloodshed to come?
Some of his reservation must have shown in his face. His bond-brother laughed, wrapped an arm around his neck and shook Alvar heartily.
"Fear not, brother! We all go to the Skull Throne in our own time!"As ever, Durm's boisterous nature brought a smile to Alvar's lips. In exasperation, he looked out again across the snow-blanketed fields. A flicker of movement caught his eye.
Check out the full feature here (http://herald.warhammeronline.com/fancontent/fanfiction/2009_BloodTribute.php)
The program kicks off with our very own Melchais Fallion of Phoenix Throne and his spooky story of Chaos and intrigue.
Excerpt:
With a flutter of black wings and a raucous cry, the raven settled on the ancient skull. A hundred years or more in the past, the skull had belonged to a predecessor of Alvar's or one of their worthier foes—now, though, it was yellowed and crumbling. One of the raven's scaled black talons curled roughly around the rusted spike that stuck through it.
The raven watched Alvar with wary, intelligent eyes. The Blood Champion spat. Such an omen needed no doddering soothsayer to decipher. The raven atop a broken skull?
"If that is," he murmured, "then so be it. My skull is the Bloodfather's."
"What?" asked Durm beside him. His rough, unguarded voice broke the white silence and the raven's calm. It clamored away, beating its wings noisily.
Alvar cast his gaze to his fellow sentry, his second-in-command. In a time of war, it was traditional for the Blood Champion to keep the watch. Out of their bond of brotherhood, Durm, his Bloodseeker, had offered to stand beside him in this vigil. He was grateful for the support.
"Nothing, good friend," Alvar replied. "I merely ponder the battle to come."His bond-brother smiled and nodded.
"And a glorious one it shall be," Durm replied fiercely. "Never has our clan faced such a foe as Tchar'zanek. Soon many skulls shall be brought before our Father."
Alvar wished that he could bring himself to agree so heartily. Was this seed within him, this doubt, a weakness? Ought his compatriot, his equal in every set of arms and ever the more fervent devotee of Khorne, to be tribe leader in the bloodshed to come?
Some of his reservation must have shown in his face. His bond-brother laughed, wrapped an arm around his neck and shook Alvar heartily.
"Fear not, brother! We all go to the Skull Throne in our own time!"As ever, Durm's boisterous nature brought a smile to Alvar's lips. In exasperation, he looked out again across the snow-blanketed fields. A flicker of movement caught his eye.
Check out the full feature here (http://herald.warhammeronline.com/fancontent/fanfiction/2009_BloodTribute.php)