# Space Marines are serious business



## Nizuzen (May 18, 2008)

_In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war and no sense of humour._

Phew. I don't know about you, but the 40k fluff gets a mite oppressive after a while. Pious Space Marines. Emo Eldar. Serious Tau. So, I thought I'd try to inject a little humour into the otherwise roll-of-the-mill story of Nigel Jones, Space Marine. I'm no writer, this being my second go at some fan-fiction, but I hope it raises a chuckle or two. I know I enjoyed writing it. If there's enough interest, I have some more adventure ideas for him. Constructive criticism welcome.

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Nigel Jones never knew quite why he was chosen to join the Scions of Salvation. It was not that the idea of battle scared him; it terrified him. Yet, when the sky gods descended from the heavens, as they did so every ten years to recruit from their people, he was accosted by Sergeant Garlon. The Sergeant appeared, despite Nigel's protests, to believe that he was prime material to bolster the ranks of the Space Marines. 

After many years spent training in the 10th company as a scout, he was a fully-fledged knight of the Imperium. Nigel had not minded his role as a scout on account of his ability to run fast and hide well. It was during his days as a scout that he won his first medal, a marble Cross of Valour, for "bravery in the face of impossible odds", an accolade he accepted with the greatest reluctance, since standing out from his peers was likely to get him a one-way ticket to the front lines. He and his squad had been placed to watch over a dusty street in a ruined city on Kyvia IV with orders to report on any enemy movement in the area without engaging them. Intelligence reported Dark Eldar activity close to the city, though no specific location could be determined. It was his squad's task to call in reinforcements once the xenos were spotted. It midday and there had been no sign of any of the vicious little buggers and that suited Nigel just fine. He was in the middle of composing his latest poem:

_I am a Space Marine,
Sitting in the Space Marine canteen.
On my plate is some beans,
And they are green._

It needed some refining, but it was well on its way to becoming a good, solid piece of work. His talent had come a long way and he was hopeful that this one would not result in another letter of rejection from the librarians. He had just picked up his stylus again when an ominous humming echoed among the broken walls of the street. Looking down from the third floor window where he sat, he saw the sinister shape of a Dark Eldar skimmer, cruising at slow speed, down the centre of the boulevard, its hull covered in wicked spikes and sporting a long-barreled, crackling gun on the prow. Nigel's concerns were raised further when he saw a skewered, rotting corpse chained to the front of the vehicle, beneath the weapon. He was glad his battle brothers had better taste in hood ornaments; you knew where you stood with an eagle. It flapped, and squawked, and would peck your bloody eye out if you got too close. The body mounted on the skimmer could carry all sorts of diseases and you would not even know it. That was when he noticed the passengers on the vehicle, each one of them every inch the deadly warrior, armed to the teeth with all manner of barbs, and blades, and pistols designed to induce agonising pain. Nigel broke out in a cold sweat.

His squad sergeant made silent hand gestures, readying his troops. All about him, his squad checked ammunition, communications devices, and armour, a lean, practiced drill in preparation for the potential battle to come. Nigel went through his own drill. Bolter, fully loaded, spare clips. Check. Comms. Check. Armour (very thorough, this one). Check. Frags. Check, but, as always, the belt was chafing him across the shoulder, so he loosened it a couple of notches. Notepad. Check. Stylus...where was the stylus? Ah. On the window-ledge. He shook his head and smiled to himself. He would forget his head one day, were it not screwed on. He reached over to grab the stylus and knocked it out of the window. He heard it hit the ground below with the faintest of 'tinks'. Nigel froze. Glancing sideways, he breathed a small sigh of relief, for none of his squad appeared to have noticed. As he resumed his pre-combat drill, the sound of the Dark Eldar vehicle's engines died as it stopped.

He and his squad waited, watching the unmoving skimmer in the street. Nigel's spirits began to brighten as the sound of its engine whirring back to life reached him. He smiled, knowing they would pass by and he would live another day without getting shot at again. He was thinking about dinner when the door to the room they had commandeered burst apart in a barrage of splinter cannon fire, killing a number of his squad. With a deafening warcry, his battle-brothers spun around and returned fire with their bolters, but the battle was already lost. The enemy were too many, his squad's losses too great. Nigel let loose with his bolter, knowing the futility of it all, but determined not to end up as a hood ornament. Click, click, click, click. He fumbled for a new clip and backed up toward the wall as the lithe, deadly xenos poured into the room, their wicked blades glistening with the crimson blood of his brothers, their vicious pistols bringing death as they spat rounds of shrapnel into the scouts. The new clip finally loaded, Nigel looked up to see the Eldar stalking into the room with insidious menace. He was the last man standing and he had nowhere to go. He had to distract them, to force a delay while he made his escape and called in reinforcements to destroy the foul incursion on this Imperial world, a world he was sworn to protect. He turned to the nearest warrior. It was clad in a form-fitting suit of layered armour, coated in needle-sharp spikes, holding a barbed leather whip in one hand and a gleaming, razor-edged crescent blade in the other. It was now or never.

"I...uh...I thought you'd be taller," Nigel tried to appear carefree, "And that knife, you could hurt someone with that. Poke an eye out or something."

The Eldar did not react, instead continuing to stalk closer to him, which was a shame because the line sounded really good inside his head until he had actually spoken it aloud.

It was then that Nigel found the window by tripping and falling backward out of it. His scream of panic was cut to an abrupt, winded halt as two Eldar rushed forward with inhuman speed and grabbed his grenade belt. A sadistic chorus of laughter echoed from inside their gruesome helms as they held his swinging body over the street below.

He looked at his belt, then at his captors. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just take them. I don't want them. Just don't drop me, please!" In his panic, Nigel began unclipping frags from his belt and throwing them in through the open window. A clamour of panicked, alien voices erupted from inside the building. The two xenos holding him looked back over their shoulders at the commotion before letting go of the grenade belt leaving Nigel to fall to the street below.

The feeling of falling can bring a pleasant sensation, a feeling of weightlessness and peace, until one considers the part where you hit the ground. At that point, the ground was very much on Nigel's mind. He flailed his free hand, futilely seeking anything he could grab to slow his fall. His other gripped his boltgun and in his panic, a stream of shells spat from the muzzle.

Nigel hoped that his landing would be softened by a convenient awning or horse and hay-cart, but the solid pavement soon put pay to that idea. As he lay, armour cracked, semi-conscious, the third floor of the building was torn apart by a series of fiery explosions, the cries of the dying Eldar masked by the cacophony. Somewhere nearby, he thought he heard the sound of bolter shells striking hull plating followed by the screeching roar of an exploding anti-grav engine. Then, all faded to black.

Nigel awoke to the cragged, stern face of Sergeant Garlon. He gave as best a salute as he could from his lying position in the infirmary bed.

"Sir, I can explain..."

"No need, son, we saw what you did out there from the gunship."

His heart sank. It was over. He would be executed for cowardice in combat. He had brought shame upon himself and his company. And he would never get to eat marshmallows again.

"Your bravery has been recognised."

And his poem. Oh, his poem. The grouch librarian Guisarme would never have published it any--wait, what?

"Almost single-handedly, you slew an entire Dark Eldar scouting party, including their transport, and avenging your fallen brothers. Good work Marine. You will get a medal for this. I will see to it myself. We need more men like you"

Nigel felt brief twinge of pride. This did not sound so bad. Some rest and relaxation away from the battlefront. Maybe even a Sister to keep him company. The tension drained from his tired muscles.

"We'll have you fixed up and back at the front where you belong in no time."

Oh, shi-


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## Master Andael (Jan 18, 2008)

It is funny keep on goingk:


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## Anphicar (Dec 31, 2006)

Original, keep it goin!


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

nice, cant wait to see more!


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## Initiate (Mar 25, 2007)

lolz. Thats pretty funny. nice work man


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## Tanrel (May 8, 2008)

Haha, I like this character. ^_^ Dumb luck for the win!


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## Lord Khorne (May 6, 2008)

You should publish that. V. funny v. original v. good writing. Can't wait to see more


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## Nizuzen (May 18, 2008)

Wow, that's quite a response. Thank you all for the comments. I will write some more this weekend.

Current working on _What's so 'special' about it?_ in which Nigel is given responsibility for the squad's plasma gun and _Tanks for the mammaries_ in which Nigel gets to meet a real life woman.

Thanks again and, as always, constructive criticism is welcome.

Niz.


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## Tanrel (May 8, 2008)

Yay!!! Can't wait. ^_^


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## Rindaris (Mar 17, 2008)

Very funny!


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## PieMan (May 1, 2008)

that was awesome

cant wait to see more


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## Luciferi (Mar 2, 2008)

I demmand moar o__o!


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## Kaosnoob1 (Jun 26, 2008)

yeah dude that was funny as write some more mate :grin:


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## Trignama (Jun 29, 2008)

ha ha ha, great story dude, where is the rest?!


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## Dessel_Ordo (Jul 28, 2008)

verry funny, moar wud be nicek:


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## mrman (Jul 19, 2008)

That was awesome. I would love some more!!!!!!


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## KellysGrenadier (Jul 13, 2008)

Your style reminds me that of Terry Pratchett's (Discworld series). Niiiiice job. Very good.


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## khorneflake (Jul 11, 2008)

lol, keep it coming!
k:


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