Warhammer Adventures with Nerd Princess — 40k RSS



Short story: The Dommissar (Part 5/5)

A hint of a smile played at the corner of the Commissar’s lips. She looked up at the brooding eagle and then back down at her sergeant.  “Do you deny the accusations of disorderly conduct levelled against you?”  “No, Commissar.”  The words hung in the air, so simple and yet so significant. The Commissar seemed to breathe them in, taste them, savour them.  “Begin.”  “I have…. overlooked…. so many infractions.” “Overlooked?” The crop pushed her head back, gently but insistently exposing her throat. She gulped against it and pushed out a single word.  “Encouraged.”  “Tell me.”  And gazing up at her commanding officer, the Sergeant finally found her words.  She spoke of long nights after hard battles, blood singing at...

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Short story: The Dommissar (Part 4/5)

Standing straight and tall in her long dark coat and illuminated only by the flickering candlelight, to the breathless Sergeant the Commissar appeared to be an inhuman figure sent by the Emperor himself to punish her sins. In the shadows behind her the eagle loomed menacingly, glittering golden in its blood sky. The Commissar’s gaze locked on her frozen Sergeant and slowly began to open her heavy coat. “You will confess.” The thick folds of fabric separated, dark shadows concealing her uniform inside. “You will tell me the truth. You will tell me… everything.”  With a deft sweep of her hand, she flung her coat roughly down onto the bed. “You will confess your crimes against the Emperor! You will...

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Short story: The Dommissar (Part 3/5)

A heavy silence hung in the air, pregnant with distant crashes and the far-off rumbles of ordinance. A long inhale as the Commissar turned away, hands on hips, served only to make the silence seem louder to the nervous Sergeant. A sheen of sweat glistened on her brow and she licked her lips nervously, not daring to speak. It was true that her unit was… high spirited. But their fighting prowess! They were the best in the field. And now more than ever, now with the uprising raging like a wildfire all around them, surely the most important thing was their ability to kill. Surely with cultists screaming over the walls, surely killing mattered more than uniform and the occasional...

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Short story: The Dommissar (Part 2/5)

Inside, the Sergeant glanced up at the eagle and crossed her hands across her chest in a sign of recognition. The eagle glared blindly down in the candlelight. “Sit.” The Commissar gestured impatiently to the single chair. As the sergeant sat, she began to speak. “Commissar, the enemy have crossed the eastern trench and are entering the cit…” “Silence!” A rise of fury washed across the Commissar’s sharp features, immediately replaced by the cynical mask of command. She glared at the Sergeant then turned sharply on her heel and strode across the room, sweeping up the files and hurling them to the ground at the Sergeant’s feet. White papers blossomed into the air and scattered - form after form, all...

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