Welcome to Librarium Online!
Join our community of 80,000+ members and take part in the number one resource for Warhammer and Warhammer 40K discussion!
Registering gives you full access to take part in discussions, upload pictures, contact other members and search everything!
Being with Caid was turning out to be more difficult than I’d imagined. For starters, he’d broken every one of my chairs. I loved those chairs.
He was sitting on the splinters of his latest victim eating rice as fast as I could boil it up. I was rubbing my bruised brow and marvelling at how he shovelled the stuff straight from the pan into his gaping chasm of a mouth when I realised he was looking right at me. He gestured with his filthy, steaming paw at the empty pots of rice, “why are you helping me, why don’t you try to escape?” he asked. I had been asking myself the same question for the past couple of hours.
The first time I saw him I debated whether to call the police or even better, the army. There’s something about a giant man bursting unscathed from the burning rubble of a building that makes you crave armed authority figures. When he started bellowing at me in offworld and literally sprinting towards me I nearly soiled myself. I yelped like a child when he grabbed me and took me into a nearby alley.
I think he must have been going through a whole bunch of languages because after about a minute of what sounded like a radio changing channel he said “I’m Caid, take me to your house” in a massively throaty voice. And I did, blubbering with fear and excitement. All in all it was a hugely shameful episode that I’d rather forget.
Now this giant was sitting on my living room floor, asking me about my motivations. “I’m scared of you,” I said, eyes on the floor. “Good. You should be, I am death,” he said, got up, and proceeded to karate chop my dining table in two. It wasn’t as funny as it might sound, as the table was made of two-inch iron-oak and earthquake-certified. “Enough food,” he said, rubbing his hands, “Now I will sleep, and you will stay with me.” It was clearly a command. While he settled cross-legged and closed his eyes, I retreated to the other end of the living room.
When I’d eventually got him through the front door he’d regarded my possessions with utter contempt. He’d immediately kicked my first chair apart and laughed at my obvious discomfort. Then he’d tried to sit on the second one. It buckled under him leaving him sitting on the floor looking outraged. I let out a strangled laugh: I’d picked those chairs up off the street, and although I loved them, I knew they were worthless. He threw a bottle at me. I’m convinced he didn’t give it everything because I was only unconscious for a couple of minutes.
During my absence he’d smashed all the chairs in the room, and was poking me awake with one of the legs, his horribly big face inches from fine. “Make me food, now,” he’d said, poking me again for emphasis in the spot on my forehead that was rapidly bruising. I must have been concussed because I said “yes, Sir,” and got straight to it. I’d not called anyone Sir since first school, not even the brass I met in my day-to-day. Anything to get away from his breath.
While I was sitting against the wall, fingering the lump on my head and gradually calming down, he started humming. It sounded like one of the monks they have in the old planet history shows. Now he wasn’t drilling me with his stare I felt a bit more inclined to take a good look at him. Even sitting he was huge. He had a boxer’s brow, and deep pronounced features. Not a looker. Cropped blonde hair covered his head in tufts, making him look mangy. He had scars too, a few big ones on his forehead along with some studs embedded there. He had his hands and legs crossed, like a monk again. His fingers were thick and short, they looked like my Dad’s. But bigger. Plus, one was missing. He was wearing a heavy grey robe, charred and blackened from his fiery birth into my life.
Well, that's a pretty good start, I'd say. I'm really curious as to what's going on now, and where this guy has come from!
Some things I may as well suggest, seeing as you've asked for feedback;
This little passage here; “Good. You should be, I am death,” he said... I can't help but feel He should have a bit of a pause in there, for a bit more of a dramatic effect. Something like, "Good," he mumbled in a surprisingly quite voice, "And you should be, for I am death"
Also, I don't quite like the way you've cut back to an earlier part of the story in paragraphs 6 and 7. It just strikes me as a little awkward. I'm not sure if those two paragraphs would work better if you dropped them in as they are just after the 4th paragraph. (Out of interest I just tried reading it through like that and to be honest I think the story does flow a little better that way. Maybe try it yourself and see what you think?)
Other then that I really have no other issues with this piece. It's very well written, and I just hope there's more to come!
And welcome to LO, while I'm at it!
Hey dude, thanks for the feedback, really appreciate you taking the time. I agree with the comments on the flashbacks, doesn't really work the way it's currently worked. Also like the idea about the pause, could do with drawing out that bit.
2nd chapter going up now!