The Warp Warhammer Novels & Stories

Movement itself became a struggle, the atmosphere thickening into a gel that sought to entomb us in our own fear. Around us, the chaos of the swarm stopped instantly. The hundreds of faceless void minions—the scouts and soldiers that had been clawing at our borders—suddenly halted their advance. In a chilling, synchronized motion, they lowered their featureless heads and bowed low, their forms trembling in the presence of their master. This was no mere spirit or accidental leak from the third realm; this was their supreme commander, the architect of the emptiness. The Warlord did not acknowledge them. It simply loomed, its presence a gravitational pull that sucked the color and soul from eve

It was a deep, pulsing crimson. The War had arrived, but the real battle wasn't on the surface. It was here, in the dark, where the Architect was waiting to harvest what he had planted fifteen years ago.

"The games have begun." War was ordained. The devils of his own underworld had come to surround him, and payment on his wager with Arachne was to be in full. The war that would be its heritage would not only determine the fate of Thane's pack but uncover whether Arachne's shadows' plots and web of tyranny had increased all these years. The devastation that Thane had unleashed in avarice and starvation was now to strike a blow of ruin and bloodshed that would collapse the very supports of the world he inhabited.

Willow. The ship warped instantly out of the earth’s atmosphere, and eight in the face of the crack, taking them all by surprise. Orion grinned and pressed a button. “This is for Zephyr Prime, you bastards!”, he yelled as cannons emerged from all around the ship. They fired simultaneously in burst shots, killing all harbingers in range. They reacted quickly and started attacking the ship from all sides. “You’re up, guys.”, Orion said, and Quinn pulled out his swords. Willow took a deep breath and brought out one of his shards. He had learnt how to put limiters on himself like Tony. The harbingers were closing in now, exposing Zoi, who sat on a throne far behind his army.

"Alright, you say we don't have much time to talk, but why am I here?" "I need to warn you of a war, and I need you to let your family know because they will be dragged into this war." "What war?" "The war between the god Ashton and the humans." "Why would that involve my family?" "Ashton will ask other gods to aid him in this war." "Why does he even want this war?" "You can say he has a hate for them." "Why does he hate them?" "Humans kill what they don't understand and are different than them." I guess that can be true, and that's why us werewolves keep our self a secret from the humans.

Across the rubble-strewn wall, Varrow stepped forward through the mist. The warlord’s armour gleamed like obsidian oil, runes glowing faintly red across its black plates. The crown wrought into his helm was jagged, wrong, a set of barbs curving like broken teeth around his skull. His presence pressed against the air itself; the mist bent away from him, curling back like smoke recoiling from flame. The Guild did not move. The beasts did not move. Even the warlocks below stood still, hands half-raised, waiting.

Whoosh! At the command, the subordinates swiftly moved out, rushing toward the War Puppet. With their strength, they could only assist from the sidelines, harassing the War Puppet without causing any damage to it. Outnumbered, the War Puppet stood firm. The War Puppet let out a furious roar, its aura surging. Its eyes turned blood-red, showing signs of transcending into a semi-Empyrean. A War Puppet, the dream of every warlock, naturally possessed unique qualities.

“Like you, my father was a wolf and my mother of magic. But my mother was Demetia, the Timebender. And my father was Fury…The First Beast.” Warlord scoffed. “You claim to be a descendant of the First Beast.” Rampage’s green eyes slitted. “How is this funny?” “So many wolves claim thus.” “Yes, but a few of us are.” “If that was the case, why would he not have you with him?” “Because Fury’s sons don’t roam with him. They’re strategic pieces he leaves in his wake.” “Oh, and what is your strategy?” It was clear, Warlord wasn’t buying a word of this.

Their vehicles were nightmares of welded steel and stolen Phase-tech monster trucks with hover-pads, muscle cars with plasma-turrets, and bikes that looked like they were built from the bones of dead servers. They circled us, their engines revving in a discordant, aggressive rhythm. A massive rig, covered in spikes and decorated with shattered computer monitors, rolled to the front. A man stood on the roof, holding a microphone wired into a PA system that screamed with feedback. He was huge, his skin grafted with patches of rusted chrome, his eyes replaced by crude, red optical sensors. "Look what the glitch dragged in!" the Warlord bellowed, his voice distorted. "Two pretty little pre-war s

Some say the ship still guards the safety of loyal Imperial Captains when traveling through the Warp. He paused for a moment. "These are the same powers we are fighting under the name of Chaos." It took a little while for the story to set in. "So these remnants if you will, are the enemy we have faced since we arrived here?" "Remnants would be the understatement of the last ten millennia but yes, they are. And they gain power as fast as we can cut them away." "The war to end all wars" Howard remarked before taking another swig of beer. "We've all heard that one before."