A Mousey Warhammer 40,000 short
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A Mousey Warhammer 40,000 short
by AnonONIagent Sun 03 Jul 2016, 11:51 am
Inspired by Gabbilluvsmice's sharing of her mouse related-writing, I've decided to share some of my own. This is a Warhammer 40,000 fanfic, so if you know nothing of 40k then this will probably be a bit difficult to follow, especially towards the end. Also bear in mind that this is my quick and dirty first draft, so it doesn't quite have the polish I'd normally give my stories, but I'm far too lazy to bother refining it at the moment 
So, without further ado:
For the first time since his initiation into the the ranks of the Adeptus Astartes, Egon Talorus experienced true grief.
He had known something was wrong when Gabriel, the mouse he had hand-raised from infancy, had not come out from his paper box hideaway in anticipation of Egon's arrival with scraps from that morning's breakfast. After attempting to bait his tiny friend out with bits of boiled egg and even trying to gently shake Gabriel's enclosure, he lifted the hideaway to discover the mouse's lifeless little body, cold, stiff and very dead.
It was a strange, almost funny thing. Grief and loss was central to the culture of the Doom Eagles chapter. From the moment of their arrival at The Eyrie, Doom Eagles aspirants were taught that all things were to die eventually, and that nothing was to be taken for granted, ever, for all could be lost in but an instant. It was this grim attitude which characterized the Doom Eagles, and shaped their thoughts and actions throughout their lives. Not only that, but Egon had seen countless innocents, brave souls, and brothers in arms fall at the hands of the foul foes of Man, their passing often violent. Yet never was a tear brought to his eye by these deaths, as instead they were mourned with a solemn, dignified acknowledgement given in silence, perhaps coupled with a brief prayer to wish their souls safe passage into the arms of the mighty God-Emperor if circumstances permitted. But never tears. Not once in over four centuries of ceaseless war.
But yet, here he was, his eyes welling and a lump forming in his throat over the passing of a mouse, an invasive pest found bountifully across the many realms of Man in uncounted numbers. And yet, strangely, that was exactly what made Gabriel's passing so different. The death of a human carried some measure of weight, while the passing of a companion that for two Terran years had unconditionally shown Egon some of the only love and affection he had ever experienced in his long life would be mourned and understood only by him. There was no promise of afterlife or reward in death for a mere animal, either. No promise of happiness after death in return for any good deeds or intentions shown in life.
And then there was the unexpected nature of his tiny friend's passing. Just the night before, Gabriel had seemed as happy and lively as ever. There was no indication that he had just hours left to live of his tiny little life. If only there had been some kind of sign, then perhaps this loss could've been prevented. Or at least perhaps Egon could've been present to comfort Gabriel in his final moments; to let him know that he was loved and cherished. And worse yet, Egon did not know if in his friend's final moments, if there had been pain or suffering or fear; if Gabriel had spent his final moments in life in some measure of distress which could've been abated had only Egon had been there for him in his time of need.
And finally, there was the crushing weight of the realization that his friend was gone; that no longer would Egon return to his quarters to find Gabriel eagerly waiting to be allowed to run about and explore, to get treats left over from the night's feast, or to sit contentedly in Egon's palm as he stroked him gently with his thumb, teeth chittering softly. No longer would he return to The Eyrie and find Gabriel hopping in delight at his caretaker's return, begging to be picked up and held after going several weeks with no human contact outside of that of the Servitors which fed Gabriel in Egon's absence.
Egon sat down in his bed, tossing away the table scraps he had brought for Gabriel into the nearby waste bin. He sat there, pondering his loss. He supposed it was time to find some way to dispose of Gabriel's body. If it was found by the Serfs or maintenance Servitors, it would simply be thrown out. Egon could not stand for that. Gabriel had been too important to him to simply be thrown away like rubbish. Something had to be done to memorialize Gabriel. Something meaningful. But what?
As Egon sat, staring into the flickering flames of the candles and incense burners in his room, it dawned on him exactly what he should do.
"Chaplain Tythis!"
The Chaplain halted on his way out of the mess hall from the night's feast, turning to see Sergeant Talorus approaching him. "Yes, Sergeant?"
Egon produced a small ceramic jar from the folds of his robes. "Would it by possible," Egon inquired, "for me to have two artefacts placed in the Hall of the Fallen upon my death?"
Tythis pondered the question momentarily. "I will have to consult the Chapter scriptures," he answered. "But I do not recall them saying anything against it, unorthodox though it may be." Raising his eyebrow, he continued, "Forgive me for asking, but I must know: what is the meaning of this inquiry?"
Egon held the jar out to the Chaplain. "I am entrusting this to the Chaplaincy, to be placed within the Hall of the Fallen upon my passing. It is the remains of something I lost recently. Something of great personal importance."
Tythis took the jar from Egon, his ever-skeptical gaze never breaking with that of the Sergeant. Though a lesser man may have been insulted by this skepticism, Egon knew it was the Chaplain's duty to be eternally scrutinous.
"Very well," he said. "I shall take this to the Reclusiarch and discuss it with him. Though I doubt he will have much objection."
Egon crossed his hands over his chest in the form of the Aquila and bowed. "Ave Imperator, Chaplain."
"Ave Imperator."
As the Chaplain exited the room, tears again began to well in Egon's eyes, and a thin smile broke across his face. Wiping his eyes, he watched as the Tythis carried Gabriel's ashes out of sight, then quietly began to make his way back to his quarters.
So, without further ado:
For the first time since his initiation into the the ranks of the Adeptus Astartes, Egon Talorus experienced true grief.
He had known something was wrong when Gabriel, the mouse he had hand-raised from infancy, had not come out from his paper box hideaway in anticipation of Egon's arrival with scraps from that morning's breakfast. After attempting to bait his tiny friend out with bits of boiled egg and even trying to gently shake Gabriel's enclosure, he lifted the hideaway to discover the mouse's lifeless little body, cold, stiff and very dead.
It was a strange, almost funny thing. Grief and loss was central to the culture of the Doom Eagles chapter. From the moment of their arrival at The Eyrie, Doom Eagles aspirants were taught that all things were to die eventually, and that nothing was to be taken for granted, ever, for all could be lost in but an instant. It was this grim attitude which characterized the Doom Eagles, and shaped their thoughts and actions throughout their lives. Not only that, but Egon had seen countless innocents, brave souls, and brothers in arms fall at the hands of the foul foes of Man, their passing often violent. Yet never was a tear brought to his eye by these deaths, as instead they were mourned with a solemn, dignified acknowledgement given in silence, perhaps coupled with a brief prayer to wish their souls safe passage into the arms of the mighty God-Emperor if circumstances permitted. But never tears. Not once in over four centuries of ceaseless war.
But yet, here he was, his eyes welling and a lump forming in his throat over the passing of a mouse, an invasive pest found bountifully across the many realms of Man in uncounted numbers. And yet, strangely, that was exactly what made Gabriel's passing so different. The death of a human carried some measure of weight, while the passing of a companion that for two Terran years had unconditionally shown Egon some of the only love and affection he had ever experienced in his long life would be mourned and understood only by him. There was no promise of afterlife or reward in death for a mere animal, either. No promise of happiness after death in return for any good deeds or intentions shown in life.
And then there was the unexpected nature of his tiny friend's passing. Just the night before, Gabriel had seemed as happy and lively as ever. There was no indication that he had just hours left to live of his tiny little life. If only there had been some kind of sign, then perhaps this loss could've been prevented. Or at least perhaps Egon could've been present to comfort Gabriel in his final moments; to let him know that he was loved and cherished. And worse yet, Egon did not know if in his friend's final moments, if there had been pain or suffering or fear; if Gabriel had spent his final moments in life in some measure of distress which could've been abated had only Egon had been there for him in his time of need.
And finally, there was the crushing weight of the realization that his friend was gone; that no longer would Egon return to his quarters to find Gabriel eagerly waiting to be allowed to run about and explore, to get treats left over from the night's feast, or to sit contentedly in Egon's palm as he stroked him gently with his thumb, teeth chittering softly. No longer would he return to The Eyrie and find Gabriel hopping in delight at his caretaker's return, begging to be picked up and held after going several weeks with no human contact outside of that of the Servitors which fed Gabriel in Egon's absence.
Egon sat down in his bed, tossing away the table scraps he had brought for Gabriel into the nearby waste bin. He sat there, pondering his loss. He supposed it was time to find some way to dispose of Gabriel's body. If it was found by the Serfs or maintenance Servitors, it would simply be thrown out. Egon could not stand for that. Gabriel had been too important to him to simply be thrown away like rubbish. Something had to be done to memorialize Gabriel. Something meaningful. But what?
As Egon sat, staring into the flickering flames of the candles and incense burners in his room, it dawned on him exactly what he should do.
****
"Chaplain Tythis!"
The Chaplain halted on his way out of the mess hall from the night's feast, turning to see Sergeant Talorus approaching him. "Yes, Sergeant?"
Egon produced a small ceramic jar from the folds of his robes. "Would it by possible," Egon inquired, "for me to have two artefacts placed in the Hall of the Fallen upon my death?"
Tythis pondered the question momentarily. "I will have to consult the Chapter scriptures," he answered. "But I do not recall them saying anything against it, unorthodox though it may be." Raising his eyebrow, he continued, "Forgive me for asking, but I must know: what is the meaning of this inquiry?"
Egon held the jar out to the Chaplain. "I am entrusting this to the Chaplaincy, to be placed within the Hall of the Fallen upon my passing. It is the remains of something I lost recently. Something of great personal importance."
Tythis took the jar from Egon, his ever-skeptical gaze never breaking with that of the Sergeant. Though a lesser man may have been insulted by this skepticism, Egon knew it was the Chaplain's duty to be eternally scrutinous.
"Very well," he said. "I shall take this to the Reclusiarch and discuss it with him. Though I doubt he will have much objection."
Egon crossed his hands over his chest in the form of the Aquila and bowed. "Ave Imperator, Chaplain."
"Ave Imperator."
As the Chaplain exited the room, tears again began to well in Egon's eyes, and a thin smile broke across his face. Wiping his eyes, he watched as the Tythis carried Gabriel's ashes out of sight, then quietly began to make his way back to his quarters.
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Re: A Mousey Warhammer 40,000 short
by Peachy Sun 03 Jul 2016, 3:04 pm
I know nothing about any of that, but it was a fun read anyway. lol Glad you shared it! It's interesting to see how mice can fit into different stories.
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Posts : 3165
Re: A Mousey Warhammer 40,000 short
by Artistwolf Sun 03 Jul 2016, 3:37 pm
I agree with Abeona!
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