Honraz Abalax stood before the smoking mass of the only drop pod that missed the landing zone. The serenity of the post-battle scene was broken by the stirring of debris and loud coughing. His soot-covered thrall soon emerged from the wreckage holding a black sphere.
If the Marshal had still had lips, the top one would have curled in disgust when he saw the shuttle dropping from the stratosphere. But his lips were long gone, along with a whole load of other shit no sane person really needed, so he contented himself with vocalising a kind of sigh through the vox-grill occupying the site of his former mouth.
Reality tore open with a sound like ripping fabric and the echo of a gunshot. The gaping hole bled colours no living being could name, and from it bloomed the…
Nameless The warband didn’t have a name. They couldn’t conceive of the concept of names. They were World Eaters. Servants of Khorne. They were Khorne’s madness taken to its perfect…
< Back to Fast Fiction For The EmperorAn unofficial Warhammer 40,000 ComicWritten by Rylan Woodrow[rt_reading_time label="Reading Time:" postfix="minutes" postfix_singular="minute"] Read the Collection About the Author Rylan Woodrow (they/them) is a gaming…
Flickering blasts of red light chased the shadowy figure as it flitted across the cramped hab-unit, searing super-heated holes in the cheap plascrete wall and setting the thin mattress alight…
It's Getting Pretty Grimdark In Here... The following story includes graphic, pregnancy-related body horror, which some readers may find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised. × Dismiss alert Indriss Voss dragged…
Once the Sleep of Reason had been a slaughter-ship, delivering fresh grox to the hives of Choalea IV until outbreaks of tongue-rot had retired her. Now she delivered pilgrims to Terra. More pilgrims made it home than grox had, but only barely.
Do you remember the day we met? I don’t suppose you do. Your lifeless stare betrays you. Who was I to you anyway? A tenant? An employee? A statistic? Was I like the others, a dime a dozen?
The king sighed, his vox-grille flexing in and out like flesh with the motion. It was a lovely day. The Imperial city of Heritus was unprepared when the sky began to scream, when the dreadclaws descended and filled the city with hallucinogenic gas with their impact. Only delights had followed.