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In: Only War, Warhammer 40k

You try making something even approaching tasty with this Emperor-forsaken mold. I don’t care that there’s a planet full of it – nothing kills morale quite like a bowl full of green, flavorless paste at the end of the day. There’s got to be a better way…
-“Chef” Aldo Gaston, Dominate Ration Distribution Adept, Camp Kleins.

A much-needed night’s rest finally comes for the Aetherian Rex Auxilliary Corps. Or at least as close to one as they’re likely to find in the war-torn village-turned-depot of Kleins. After an early rising, the squad needs to resupply, tinker with their gear, and try to trade away the rest of their ill-gotten “weaponry.”

United in purpose under the Dominate – as they surely are – one would expect cordial relations with the local chapter of the Priesthood of Mars. But offended machine spirits – and more importantly, offended tech-priests – are fickle creatures.

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In: Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed

It was tiring waiting that long. Strephan Maurer ponderously set his chin in his hands on another tired day. Progress was stilted. The land remained clutched in his elegant grasp, the fools in the towns wary but feeling their trivial safety. A hiss of dismissal poured from his pursed lips. And yet they stood in his way. His fingers tapped against his pale skin, feeling the beat through his jaw and gleaming teeth. Tatyana was still there. And there was no easy way to collect her with elegance. The town needed to remain, shepherds need their sheep. And that crazed Inquisitor wouldn’t simply relinquish the town. And even more still were that would be group of hunters, stomping through the forest like a frightened boar. Their lack of subtlety was adorable, but could prove troublesome. So perhaps… Yes.

Standing to his full height, he held out a hand as parchment and quill traveled loyally to his grip caught in invisible eddies. Across the room Rahadin, clad in black fur with his deep skin eyed his lord carefully, but didn’t speak. The rapid scratching of the feather on paper wasn’t something he’d disturb. Minutes later as the flurry of strokes ended and the wax seal was set to envelope, he finally felt the space to clear his throat subtly from the edge of the candlelit room. Maurer held the envelope out, looking his loyal servant in the eye. “Deliver this to Inghild.” he said in meticulous deep words. His face was placid for but a moment more, his mouth splitting into a sharp humorless grin. “It’s time we followed through on our plans.”

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In: Only War, Warhammer 40k

Encounters with other cultures under the Dominate’s protection is inevitable. While your own commanders, in concert with the Legate Corps, will do their best to integrate you, it is your own duty to seek to understand those who will fight alongside you. Depend upon each other, no matter your differences – the Dogs of Terra will exploit any weakness they can.
-Severan Soldier’s Guide to Battle, Chapter XIV: The Fraternity of War
Lucilla Acton, Ducal Legate Primaris

The empty manufactorium seems like a good place to recover. But distrust within the squad, the ever-belligerent orks, and the fallout of the drop-ship crash all threaten the Aetherian Rex‘s ability to rest, even for a moment. When a sudden evacuation becomes necessary, the scramble to get the VIPs and the rest of the soldiers out in one piece begins. . .

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In: InSpectres

In the bygone year of 2007, paranormal investigations flooded the airwaves of deep cable stations. One such station assembled its own team to set itself apart from the others: A former child star turned spirit medium, a time traveler equipped with high tech ghost hunting and capturing gear, and a twenty-something white guy with no relevant skills or interesting qualities. Together they would spend a full hour in the possible proximity of a ghost while yelling and drinking crisp, refreshing coca-cola.

This is their story.

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In: Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed

Sitting in his decrepit shack, Bluto pondered his life’s direction. He plucked a silvery fish scale desiccated with time from his beard, staring at it as if it would lead him to an answer. It was little secret that over the last couple of years things had only gotten worse. The land didn’t have much kindness in it, but here it felt as if even the waters he had known since childhood were deciding to spite him. The other fishermen had given up, hunting or farming showing better results, and eventually the only results at all. The lake seemed so placid with it’s gray green surface.

But no matter how far his body or eyes traveled from it’s seemingly empty waters, he could feel his mind floating and still in the grasp of the lake. But perhaps it was time. Time to leave like the rest. He stood up from the rickety gray wood of his hovel, and went out to pull in the nets for the last time. It was this day he would find the gray surface of the water torn open, ripped to unveil a creature of a size he never could’ve imagined. And as the beast sunk beneath the still frothing wake, Bluto knew a chance was being offered. The waters had more to give to the loyal.

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