Warhammer 40k Space Marine Blood Ravens Novels & Stories

Osric answers while sitting on the edge of the lounge near Raven’s head making her smile. “How are you doing? It’s a big tattoo, you hurting yet?” I question, looking down at her hip to see the raven in red ink at the top of her hip taking up almost her entire thigh. The tattoo is very cool, the Raven is in a defensive attack position and made of knots like you would see in old Norse temples. “Enjoying talking to these guys, and getting to know Ares a bit better, it stings when it’s right over the bone but not bad,” Raven admits while looking down at the tattoo gun pressing against her skin, as Ares works on the dark red outline.

He finally asked, “Can we focus on getting other shifters to fight on our side instead? My pitiful love life has nothing to do with you.” The war was sure to be brutal. While the Blood Moon is when most shifters are the strongest, I am sure vampires would thrive with the amount of blood shed that will happen. At least Lia would be safe, since most shifters cannot go to sea, and merfolk would not participate in the war. The thought that most sea shifters were safe was quickly abolished when Dylan showed us a spell that was going to force most sea fold out of the water. The targets are sirens and their blood.

he spits. I squat down to his level. I raise my shirt and there, just above my waistband on my hip, is the Damned Forsaken crest of a raven with a skeletal wing and head sitting atop a skull with a halo leaning against it on one side and a gun on the other. His eyes widen in acknowledgment.

Even so, right that moment, I was so sure that the person walking towards me was him. His hair was red and ponytailed. He has three piercings in the right ear and has a tattooed symbol at his left temple down to his cheek. He was wearing a black cloak tainted with a lot if red stains, which I'm sure is blood. The thought of whose blood is it terrifies me. By the way he looks, he obviously just came from a war. But why did he make it here? Does that mean... No. It can't be. Red smoke went out from my necklace. The next second, Raja's growl echoed in the whole palace. His tail surrounded me in a protective stance.

It’s filth, Mara—hunt, bleed! Jasper stood at the ravine’s entrance, his burly frame tense, sandy hair tousled by the wind, blue eyes narrowed, his axe gripped in both hands, its blade gleaming, the knuckle scar on his hand glinting as he shifted his stance, his fur-lined vest layered over his tunic, the wind brushing his skin, but his warmth held steady, Mara’s fire his sun, the pack’s legacy his shield, the hum of magic a call to war, the ash crunching beneath his boots, the Veil’s air heavy, the violet runes pulsing, the ravine’s walls looming, the scent of decay a whisper, the battle a shadowed storm. Boulder, his wolf, rumbled, his tawny form poised, head low, eyes sharp, the violet glo

As if summoned, blades grew from the hilts, pure as the darkest nights. He bared his teeth in a snarl and war raged through him. When he spoke there was only wrath in his voice. “I see you too, Rin.” With the pain of fire coursing through him, and veils ready for slaughter, he readied for war. Then he surged forward. NO!

The Blood-Rain was not a metaphor. It was a physical corruption, a heavy, metallic downpour that stained the world a deep, visceral crimson. As the ten thousand newly awakened Hallowed warriors marched out of the Silver Mines, the sky seemed to be hemorrhaging. Each drop that landed on the skin felt like a needle-prick of sorrow, a cold, cloying reminder of the lives Selene had sacrificed to fuel her ascension.