# Chaos Space Marine Journal (comical)



## KiwackaBear (Nov 13, 2008)

*Chaos Space Marine’s Diary
The following text is made up of notes from the diary of a Chaos Space Marine in the Black Legion. 
Dreaded Diary,
Day 1, week 1
1 Arrived at new camp on planet Ythcolgar. 
2 Started to feel pain in left arm. No idea why.
3 Hung piece of paper on brother Ardius’ backpack reading “Purge me!” and had a good (and sinister) laugh with the rest of the lads.
4 Brother Behemon painted the coolest ever winged skull on his shoulderplate today, and was brutally butchered by the guv’ (Estragor, Exalted Champion of Chaos) for being a Night Lords sympathizer.

Day 2, week 1
4 Pain in arm growing. Went to Chaos sorcerer, who told me three words: “Extremis Unconfortablis Mutatis.” I’m visiting brother Arzhar tomorrow, to ask about mutation symptoms. (Arzhar has already got an ostrich-leg and a bat’s nose.)
5 The Guv’ didn’t like the “purge me” joke, and as punishment I spent three hours writing “You’re dead!” back to front on the front of my squad’s Rhino, in preparation for next week’s big cityfight.
6 Attended brother Behemon’s funeral today. The way sergeant Sargoth placed his blooded skull atop that burning mound of bones really stirred some emotions, but we all forgot our sadness and frustration by getting leglessly drunk on boozed-up blood afterwards. 

Day 3, week 1
7 Awoke with a terrible hangover from last night, and hung on my bed I found a picture of me making out with a daemonette. This, of course, led to quite a few “HOWs”, “WHYs” and “WHENs”
8 Arzhar (who by the way has been gifted an additional ostrich leg by his patron) told me to expect a hideous mutation of my left arm. Although I have yet to read about the pros and cons of mutation, I’m hoping for either a whip-like tentacle or a massive crab’s claw!
9 Found a scorched skull on the gound and hung it in my belt, but was then given a thorough lesson from sarge about martial honour, and how one shall only display battle-trophies that one-self has won. Frankly I couldn’t care less what he and the Blood God thinks.

Day 4, week 1
10 Today we sacked an undefended city on the planet Urnium. Found a convenience store selling cereal-boxes called “Corn-chaos.” (a fitting name, I might add). The guv, however, took the cereal’s title as an insult mocking his patron, Khorne, and burned the shop personally. Fortunately I managed to grab the latest issue of “Universe at War” before the magasine-rack was consumed by the flames.
11 Got into a fight with brother Octavius over which of the two destroyed legions landed on Istvaan V first. He claimed it was the (fragment missing), but surely it was the colossal landing crafts of the (fragment missing) legion which first touched the ground?
12 Played Death-poker with the lads before going to bed. The only casualty was brother Magnon, who bought it in the fourth round. Won myself a neat little master-crafted beauty of a bolt-pistol, and a bottle of some blue liquid. (Note: The bottle was labeled: “Do not add anything”)

Day 5, week 1
13 Today, the guv beheaded brother Raphaelus for having tattooed a certain rune on his forehead. But Raphaelus died with a smile on the face of his severed head, having had great fun tricking the entire company into believing that he had been given the Mark of Khorne. 
14 Pain in arm growing, the sorcerer told me to expect a mutation any day. I still find it hard to believe that I have particularly pleased one of the powers, except for perhaps amusing Slaanny by symbolically eating that Eldar’s waystone in a battle a few weeks ago. (That stone was hard as rock, by the way, and it really messed up my teeth. And I was hoping for fangs and all!
15 Attended “Pint-night” with the rest of the squad. In lack of boozed-up blood, drank the blue liquid I won at the poker-game. The liquid turned out stronger and fiercer than an irritated Bloodthirster, and sent me running to the latrine, screaming like a Horror. Before I reaching it, I had already vomited half my interiours all over the newly-polished Land Raider. (Note: Formed the vomit into looking like an evil face, and the tank commander was impressed when he saw it the next day.)

Day 6, week 1
16 Last night I had a long vision of Tzeentch, telling me how mad he was at me. I spent all night running from his minions in the psychic realm. How I earned the wrath of Tzeentchie-boy (that old trickster is beyond me.
17 Was told at the mess that the blue liquid I had drunk last night was infact an antidote to Nurgle’s Rot, and was lifted up by a group of Plague-marines and carried across the courtyard, being praised and honoured by the foul men. Never before have I drunk and thereby destroyed the nemesis of an entire squad of marines. (Note: My new nikcname is “Doom-drinker,” apparently.)

Day 7, week 1
18 Awoke with left arm fully mutated! A beautiful tentacle-thingy, slimy and gross. Had great fun coiling it around brother Xarnon’s throat and almost strangling him. Went to Arzhar’s tent with a bunch of posessees, and had a “Who’s got the most hideous body-part”-competition. (Brother Igmarius won, sporting a toe with a fly’s head and little legs of it’s own.)
19 Got tickets for tomorrow’s Emperor’s Children gig on the planet Harthras IV. (Note: Bus leaves at 4.00)
20 Went to Chaos sorcerer in hope of finding out which god has gifted me with the tentacle. After two hours of the sorceror looking at the arm and taking down notes, came the following answer: “It is probably either Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle or Slaanesh.” (No big suprises there)

Day 1, week 2
21 Went all day fooling around camp. For fun, pretended to be a nutter and was grouped with the posessed squad. Learned all there is to know about being possessed, and wrote down some of their most memorable lines: “The Emperor wins in the end”, “Does my host have bad breath?,” and “Man, the looks of this host are spoiling my chances of getting laid.”
22 In the evening, went to Emperor’s Children concert on Harthras IV. Went backstage and got Eidolon’s autograph, and got my picture taken next to him, holding a blastmaster. After the concert, almost my entire squad talked about joining the Slaaneshi cult. (Note: Group pressure is a bad thing)
23 Looking forward to tomorrow’s cityfight, spent the late hours painting terror-markings and contrasting colours on my armour, along with the lads. Only one of them had actually pledged his soul to Slaanny after the concert, and we helped him paint ridiculous colour-patterns and naughty artwork on his armour.

Day 2, week 2
24 Had a good old cityfight in Yarnus, the capitol of the planet Kravus. Tried out the bolt-pistol I had won at the poker-game, but killed no-one with it (except brother Elmius by accident. He was probably gonna die anyway, right?). Ended with the bolt-pistol blowing up in my hand and rendering me unable to use a weapon. (Ever tried holding a boltgun with a tentacle?) Despite pain and being “physically challenged” I managed to impress sarge by strangling two hapless citizens with my tentacle in less than 10 seconds. 
25 On the way back to base, I got friendly with Khorne-berzerker Arturion, and after he initially tried to chop my head off, we had an interesting coversation about social issues and skull-taking.

Day 3, week 2
26 Awoke finding Arturion licking the blood off my wounded hand (which I had forgotten to do something about). Went with Arturion to the tech-marine, who replaced my wounded hand with a robot-one. The sad thing is that if it had been treated right away, I would only have had to replace 96, 7 percent of my hand, and not the whole thing. Arturion put his name up in the list for some more psycho-surgery. I said I like natural rage better, but he wouldn’t listen, and kept claiming it would make give him better self-confidence and make him more attractive.
27 For an evening out, I went to the killing-grounds with the rest of my squad, to fight a pack of brutish beastmen. Did many things that Arturion had learnt me, but discovered that I still have to work on my “Double-Decap.” (Note: Must remember to send “I’m sorry”-letter to brother Lurg.)

Day 4, week 2
28 Was told that brother Lurg from my squad died last night from wounds sustained at the killing-grounds yesterday. Unfortuately no one noticed how he was wounded. Although Lurg probably did, it was hard for him to explain without his jaw. (Note: Must remember to burn the “I’m Sorry!”-letter)
29 Played Death-poker in the evening. Won nothing, and lost half my miniature-collection, including the special character “Rambo.” (We play with the miniatures in a game called “Warhammer 2k”) 

30 Day 5, week 2
31 Sarge found the “I’m Sorry”-letter before I had time to burn it. Suprisingly, he didn’t mind the fact that it was I the one who had inflicted the mortal wounds on Lurg (by accident, of course...) Instead, he said that Khorne apparently favours those who kill their friends and allies, and fetched Lurg’s severed jaw for me to wear as a trophy.
32 Was part of a group of marines ordered to test the new Dreadclaws. The pod I was in failed to work, and plumetted to the ground at lightning-speed. The pod crashed in a desert area of the planet, the impact killing everyone in the pod except me. Hours later I was found unconcious by the search-team, with a third-degree burn on my tentacle and without a lower jaw.

Day 6, week 2
1 Left the field-hospital/gene-mixing-lab early in the morning, with a bandaged tentacle and a fully functional jaw. Apparently, they hadn’t found my original one, so they took the one hanging on a chain around my neck and put that one on instead.
2 Went to Arzhar’s tent to ask how to treat injured mutated limbs. Arzhar, the poor *****, has by now been given a turtle’s shell and pig’s head (although he’s still got the bat’s nose), and was not in the mood to talk about mutations. Instead we discussed career-possibilities in the legion, and advaning to higher ranks. I’ve found out that possible career choices are: To join one of the cults, become a biker or havoc specialist, survive long enough to become a veteran, get possessed, almost die and become a Dreadnought, or become a driver. Tough choice, eh?
3 In the evening, I returned to the killing-grounds with my squad, this time pitched against a group of imperial captives. We barely made it out alive, although this time I managed to perfectly execute the Double-Decap.

Day 7, week 2
33 The talk with Arzhar yesterday really got me thinking. Walked around the camp, asking the different marines about what career THEY had chosen. So far, the cults seem unlikely (although the plague-marines will of course welcome “Doom Drinker” into their group anytime), and becoming possessed seems to leave few chances of advancing further in the ranks. Besides, having a face growing out of my chest and babbling philosofical nonsence all day isn’t my biggest ambition in life. 
34 Later, the camp was visited today by a small group of Word Bearers lead by a chaplain, coming to tell us all about why we should join their legion instead. Their endless preaching was cut short when the guv’ intervened, butchering them to a man. The survivor was held down and his armour was taken off. Then the guv’ tatooed the eye of Horus on his forehead, and “Black Legion rocks!" all over his chest. He was then carried into a space-ship, and finally jettisoned into space in a sarcophagus marked “To Lorgar!”

Day 1, week 3
35 Had nothing to do half the day, so went with brother Ixius to the paint-shed where we stylised our armour some more. Ixius painted a large I (for Ixius) on his chestplate, although I’m sure I’ve seen that particluar letter dislplayed in similar manners before...
36 Started preparing this week’s lighting-raid on an imperial hive-city called Necromunda. Apparently, the guv and all his officers and allies had been planning this raid for months, and have done all the nescessary calculations. With the forces we’re gonna use, the hive city will be reduced to a scorched wasteland littered with the dead in no time!
37 In the evening, the guv violently slaughtered one of his own marines. The reason was that the marine had been given a mutated head by his god. What had his head mutated into? Two eagle-heads...

Day 2, week 3
38 Got up early to play Blood-hockey with the lads, against a team composed of bloodthirsty beastmen and some imperial prisoners. With the game being my first one for ages, I only managed two kill-goals and one goal-kill. In the end, we won the game 18-3.
39 Later, my squad and I was ordered into the desert-region of the planet to crush a beastman rebellion against us. When arriving, we saw that without any material to build a proper base with, they had constructed a gigantic sandcastle in the middle of the sea of sand-dunes. I was the big hero of the campaign, firing the descisive (and only) shot which took down their stronghold, burying them underneath. Was rewarded a medallion by the guv, which was ripped from my armour again when the lads told him what kind of resistance we had met.

Day 3, week 3
1 Brother Taxius and brother Cormius came up with a great tactical idea today: Havoc bikers. Taxius and Cormius decided on sharing their stroke of strategic genius withe the guv himself, and went at once to his throne-room. Strangely enough, only one of them received a public execution for their stupidity (Cormius). Infact the guv assembled a unit of Havoc bikers, and made Taxius the unit sergeant. Apparently, the guv thought leading such a pointless unit on the battlefield would be prove to be punishment enough.
2 Around noon, brother Praetorax threw a spray of “Mr. Clean” into the plague-marines’ tent as a joke. Punishment was dished out by the guv, who ensured that Praetorax will have his hands busy for quite a while; Praetorax was ordered to polish the armour of all the company’s plague-marines, and only when every single piece of armour has passed the white-glove test, will he be allowed to stop. Not suprisingly, a dozen of our company’s marines joined the Nurgle-cult today, for obvious reasons.
3 Used most of the day packing my bags and preparing for the hive-city assault.

Day 4, week 3

(Nothing was written this day)

Day 5, week 3 
3 Mission to destroy hive-city Necromunda yesterday was cancelled, as our base fell under attack by a force of Iron Warriors before sunrise. Me and the rest of my squad were taken as captives by them, and we were taken deep into the warp aboard a small space hulk the Iron Warriors had mobilized. Their commanding warsmith said to us: “Half of your men escaped, half of your men were killed, and the last half were captured.” (So much for the Iron Warriors’ cold and efficient LOGIC) But he also told us how amazed he was by our defence skill, and that he was impressed by our tactical abilities. Apparently, the Havoc bikers had held back the Iron Warriors for several hours, allowing many marines to escape the doomed base. 
4 Today, we landed on a desert-planet (Tellarm or Tallern or something) for unknown reasons, and from my iron cage (which I was held in) I overheard two Iron Warriors playing in the sand:

“My sandcastle is bigger than yours!”
“No it isn’t!”
“Yes it is, and it has lascannons here and here, and these are missile lauchers!”
“Well mine’s got that aswell, and a moat full of skulls and barbed wire!”
“Your lascannons aren’t placed at the right spots! What if the enemy attacked here? Or here? Or put heavy fire on this wall? You’d have to concentrate the fire on that area over by the dead lizard, while your terminators got into position over by that pile of bones. And barbed wire placed over there isn’t gonna slow the enemy down! You’ve gotta put another turret on this spot here, next to the cactus, and have warriors standing ready over here in case of a breakthrough. And what if that scorpion over there assaulted this wall? I’d suggest a squad of...”

No doubt the Iron Warriors are tactical geniuses. I never learned what their business on the desert-planet was, and we left only hours later.

Day 6, week 3
5 Early in the morning, we were brutally dragged from our warm and comfy chains and shackles and pitched against a squad of Obliterators in a game of inter-planetary Blood-hockey. We were solemnly beaten 23-2, with two casualties, one IGB (In-Game-Betrayal), and four of our men are probably still drifting into space. 
6 Discovered on my way back to the cell that the guv is also aboard the hulk. Not a big suprise really, as it’s not like him to run away or die in the heat of battle. 
7 Played Death-poker with a makeshift deck of cards (don’t ask), and I stole the show, winning three pieces of dry bread and five glasses of stagnant water.

Day 7, week 3
8 Enjoyed a peaceful day in the cell. Nothing much happened, apart from brother Garvius being put in a straightjacket, brother Xathras climbing the walls, and the ever-complaining, ever-wining, ALWAYS annoying brother Urshar being knocked out, permanently. (NOT by me, I swear...) 
9 Later, a brilliantly co-operated jailbreak was carried out. Lead by the guv, all the Black Legion captives aboard the space hulk rampaged through the drifting metal-behemoth, killing everything we met, and probably everything we didn’t meet, considering we ended it all by blowing the hulk into at least two pieces. (Doesn’t have the same effect as “a million pieces,” does it?)

Day 1, week 4
1 Back on our good old planet! We all celebrated our happy return with a visit to the killing grounds. Even the guv joined in, and we all had a merry time killing each other, since there was no-one else to fight. The guv said afterwards that events like these are nescessary to determine who are worthy of serving him. Those who died were obviously not worthy. Later, we partied in the mess, the sorcerer conjuring drinks from the depths of the warp, and we all got totally hammered. (Note: It’s fun dancing with Horrors when you’re drunk)

Day 2, week 4
1 Received tragic news that brother Praetorax had comitted suicide with a bomb, finally having had enough of polishing plague-infested armour. There was a memorial service at noon, with the (very few) remains of Praetorax being ritually fed to a pack of wild mutant-geese. Everyone attended except the plague-marines, who had lost both their servant and their sergeant when the bomb went off. Ironically, the bomb-explosion had burnt every drop of slime off their armour...
2 Brother Arzhar, the Toy of the Gods (which he has been titled by his superior) has received yet another mutation. His latest hideous feature is a frog’s chin. And while we was captured aboard the space hulk, he had been gifted a fish-tail. Lay awake all night because of the noises coming from his tent. (Note: “Riddip” and “croak” are the two most annoying sounds in the galaxy.)

Day 3, week 4
3 Felt like doing nothing, so rented three videos with some of my squad-mates: “Edward Lightning-claws”, “Children of the Khorne”, and a documentary film starring among others the guv himself: “Pitch Black Crusade.”
4 After having watched films for hours and eventually getting fed up, we went to the mess. On the tent, there hung a large poster with a picture of his majesty Abaddon the Despoiler, pointing at us with his Talon of Horus, and the text read “Abaddon wants you!” Inspired by the movie we had just watched (and just for kicks, of course), my entire squad (including me) put their names up for the next Black Crusade. We decided that burning planets, killing imperials and enslaving billions looks great, and we made the guv really proud of us too.
5 Later, we found this really neat piece of armour in the junkyard, and brother Halus put it on at once. Of course, no-one told him that what he had just put on was a suit of armour from the Thousand Sons legion. And we quickly discovered that it was still occupied by it’s original wearer, when the armour ran off with Halus screaming to get out.

Day 4, week 4
6 Today, sarge told us that there were already thousands of regulars who had signed up for his majesty Abaddon’s next Black Crusade. In order to participate in the crusade, our squad had to choose a more specialized style of warfare, since there was still a shortage of specialist troops in the Black Crusade army. We had a poll, and it was soon decided that our path was to become bikers. Without further ado, we all started practising to become bikers, something that was quite hard considering we had not been issued any bikes yet. 
7 Saw the new poster at the mess, telling that there is a contest to see who can recruit the most marines into joining the Black Crusade. (First prize is an antique shoulderplate worn by the great commander Orghoth, that’s for recruiting 20 marines.) Went to Arzhar’s tent and tried persuading him into joining the crusade, and he finally agreed to, after I had outdone myself in making up lame reasons for him to join.

Day 5, week 4
8 Got up before sunrise and ran around camp recruiting marines to join the crusade. I realised that if I wake them from their sleep early in the morning, most of the marines will say (or agree to do) anything as long as you go away and let them sleep.
9 Went to the head-office and handed in the paper with all the signatures. It actually turned out that I didn’t win the recruitment-contest, as the Berzerker champion had walked around the camp last night and forced a heap of marines to join. If the choice is between going on a Black Crusade or getting you head cut off, what would you have chosen? Anyway, I won second prize, a really cool replica of Khârn the Betrayer’s helmet. After scaring a few of my squad-mates out of bed by wearing the helmet and shouting “Blood for the Blood God!”, I painted it black and adorned it with the Eye of Horus, the most infamous of all the Chaos symbols. (Plus it’s my favorite one.)
10 Went to Arzhar’s tent, and helped him paint the Eye on his turtle-shell. Actually, I didn’t, and wrote instead: “One-man zoo!” A mean thing to do? Hardly, since mutants always say they want to be treated like everone else.

Day 6, week 4
11 Today, some crucial messages were given to us by sarge. The Black Crusade is commencing in one week, but we won’t be joining it until the main fleet comes to our system, which should happen a few days later. Also, he told us that our squad had been accepted to become bikers, and that our bikes would be issued to us when we join the fleet. Finally, he told us that the guv has been accepted into Abaddon’s inner circle of lords for the crusade. Apparently, this is to be celebrated next week at the newly built pub/pleasure-house “Sex, drugs and worse!”, erected by the Slaaneshi cult.
12 Went around camp all day trying to get hold of some drinks for next week’s party. I came over several choices: the regular boozed-up blood, a bottle of “Brother Bravius’ Belly-burner,” and some green slime which sticked to the wall when I threw it. In the end, I went with the Belly-burner for variety, since the slime tasted bad, and I’m tired of boozed-up blood. (Besides, the last time I drunk it, I vomited up big lumps of coagulated blood the next day, which pleased only the berzerker who I allowed to have them.) 
13 Played Death-poker with the squad, and lost my fake Khorne-necklace (Oh no. I also lost a gold tooth that I never knew I had. Apparently, brother Rhengar, who won it, had been a friend of brother Lurg, the former owner of my jaw. 

Day 7, week 4
14 Walked around camp with brother Fermicus and sold off all the gear that we won’t be needing when we become bikers. Traded our beloved Heavy bolter for a skull-shaped helmet, an antique deck of cards and a small Chaos familiar that was found in the mess sink this morning. 
15 After a big, bloody fight that probably pleased Khorne, brother Halus got to keep the skull-helmet. Then we played a quick game of Death-poker with the new cards (without the full rules, since we wanted to be at full strength for the crusade), and since no-one wanted the familiar, I guess I’ stuck with it.
16 In the evening, sarge assembled us in the main tent where we were to discuss biker-tactics. After hours of debating, arguing, countless feet being stamped and fists being hammered onto the table in rage, we finally agreed on a strategy: the good old “Charge!!!”

Day 1, week 5
17 Had nothing to do, so I went with brother Furiax to the killing-grounds, to test our mettle against the good old beastman horde. Dispite our fearless fighting, me even managing a Double-Decap without trying to, we were outnumbered and quickly surrounded. But fortunately, some last-minute help in the form of the berzerker-squad arrived, and they quickly turned the place into a fountain of blood.
18 Used the rest of the afternoon trying to get all the beastman-blood off my armour. Later, I went to the mess to try out today’s special, “Rotting corpse.” (Plague marines had mess-duty today) It tasted kinda out of date.

Day 2, week 5
19 Borrowed the latest copy of “Universe at War” from brother Vulkus, and read interesting article on combat-bikes. Got some really cool ideas for my future “metal steed” (that’s what us pros call our bikes), and I’m definately gonna try out the flame-pattern.
20 Later today, the list of Crusade-squads was hung up. It turned out that two thirds of our company, including the guv himself, have enlisted into his majesty Abaddon’s crusade. Noted down names of all the squads joining: Squad Estragor (Raptors, lead by the guv himself), Squad Dharkos (Possessed), Squad Zerus (Havocs), Squad Sargoth (That’s us! Bikers, of course), Squad Traghius (Plague marines) and Squad Mhorkorus (Berzerkers). Also, we’re committing a Rhino APC and the Land Raider “Eternal Hatred” to serve in Abaddon’s forces.
21 Went to Arzhar’s tent in the evening. He’s not been put in any of the squads, it turned out, but is being taken along with some other (weirdo) marines to be used as auxilliaries. Had a long chat with him, mostly about violence and the meaning of death. Noticed before I left that it looks like a pair of rabbit-ears are appearing on his head.

Day 3, week 5
22 The day started with us talking about the World Eaters at the mess. When we came to the fact that they have no recorded home-world, brother Hades found a good reason why: “They ate it.” Stupidity-execution carried out by the guv, who hates stupid people (and doesn’t like bad jokes either.) Only minutes later, brother Unghor foolishly asked out loud: “If Slaanesh is the god of sex, why is it Tzeentch who’s got a thousand sons?” It resulted in the guv having killed two of his own men for being stupid before breakfast was over.
23 Checked the mail, and found a flyer with “Join the Blood-Drinkers Anonymous.” Found out it was some kind of Imperial junk-mail sent to the wrong adress.
24 In the evening, the (slightly delayed) party to celebrate our return was held. (We were captured aboard a space hulk, remember?) We all had a jolly good time, but soon a pack of daemons invited themselves to the party. Before night was over, a drunken Plaguebearer had vomited on Brother Fratius (killing him), a swarm of Nurglings got the Land Raider going and drove away with it, and three of our men were possessed by daemons. It all came to a finale when a enormous Great Unclean One materialized in the pub, squashing several marines and cultists to death upon it’s arrival. (Note: Nurgloid daemons are very annoying. Remeber NOT to get possessed by one!)

Day 4, week 5
25 Awoke face down in a puddle of slime behind the bar. Got up just in time to get out of the pub before it was demolished. Apparently, it was fully trashed inside, and so full of slime from the daemons that dropped in last night, that the guv found no reason to keep it standing. Instead, he is planning to erect a Chaos monolith in it’s place.
26 Our squad was called to search for the Land Raider which was hijacked by the Nurglings last night. We eventually found it half-buried by sand in the desert-region of the planet. It was littered with dead Nurglings, dryed up and shrivelled, who obviously couldn’t cope with the heat. Brother Furiax insisted riding back to base on top of the tank, but it almost cost him his life; When we returned his lungs were half-filled with sand, and he was twice as heavy to carry because of the amount of sand inside his armour. 
27 Used the rest of the afternoon sharing thoughts about war with the familiar.

Day 5, week 5

Day 6, week 5
28 Finally found my diary! Who on earth put it under my bed? Thanks to whoever it was, I didn’t get to write anything in it yesterday. 
29 Had a talk with Arzhar (who by the way has got a pair of rabbit-ears now, just as I predicted.) He says he’s going to be grouped with the possessed once we join the Black Crusade, even though there isn’t actually a daemon inside him (yet). Had a glass of vintage boozed-up blood (slightly coagulated, but that’s how it’s supposed to be, apparently) and talked about how the Crusade’s gonna be like. Promised we’d meet again before we leave.

Day 7, week 5
30 Spent the day making huge posters and banner reading: “Warmaster, command us!” and “Welcome, Your Highness!” They were all spread out on the camp-grounds facing upwards. Brother Grax dug a deep hole in the ground and covered it with a huge sheet, on which he had written “Land here!” It was just intended as a joke, of course. However, the guv quickly found out (the hard way), and Grax was shackled, gagged and blindfolded and thrown in the pit immeditaly. However, he was not buried alive. Instead, the guv simply covered the pit again with the same sheet. (Talk about digging your own grave...)
31 We all wrote our wills in the mess. Decided that if I die, sarge can keep all my stuff. (Note: Remeber to make sure brother Tryvus doesn’t survive the crusade, since he’s put me up for his antique pre-heresy bolter if he dies.)
32 Couldn’t sleep, lay awake thinking about the crusade. 

What will Abaddon be like? 
How long before I get my bike?
How many planets will we burn?
Will I be dead before we return?


Day 1, week 6
1 Awoke from sarge bellowing orders to everyone. Apparently, his majesty Abaddon’s fleet is due here tomorrow, and today was our last chance to do whatever we want to before we’re off to burn the galaxy. Having spent yesterday wisely, packing all my stuff and all that, I walked around camp all day. Arzhar was busy packing his gear, having some problems carrying it all with his new crab’s claw. Arturion, my bloodthirsty berzerking friend, was busy arguing with his sergeant. Apparently, their squad consisted of nine marines, while Khorne’s sacred number is eight. Not suprisingly, a member of the squad was removed (or at least his head was). 
2 Payed a visit to the pit of slime, where the cultists and marines of Nurgle were busy gathering up their stuff. Watched them filling bags, bottles and buckets full with slime, and taking them to the landing-site. Obviously, they intend to “make themselves at home” in one of the ships. Their Champion, Traghius, offered me a final chance to join their squad, which I declined, although I don’t think he bought my excuse. (“Green just isn’t my colour...”)
3 Again, couldn’t sleep because of the big day tomorrow. 

Day 2, week 6
3 Suprised to wake up late and find that the fleet hadn’t arrived yet. Everyone was so tence and excited, the landing site was crammed with marines and cultists alike. The Sorcerer was restlessly dipping his mind in and out of the warp, checking for any signs of the fleet arriving. The berzerkers were fighting amongst each other (friendly at first, but it ended with a bloody chainsword and a severed arm), the Plague marines were dozing in a huge puddle of slime, and the Slaaneshi were doing things a bit too rude to describe here.
4 About mid-day, a marine from Squad Zerus was executed by the guv for thinking that the Death Guard’s pre-heresy name was the Life Guard. (“I mean, it makes sence, doesn’t it...? What? The Guv?! Where?!!”) Thankfully, the guv was so busy with this that he never heard brother Xathras claim that there is a successor chapter of the Iron Hands called the Iron Feet.
5 Then finally, just as the second sun was about to set, gigantic black ships of the Black Legion fleet went into orbit around the planet. Huge transport-ships descended from the sky, and landed somewhere on the horison. Everyone was so disappointed that they hand’t landed where we had put out the signs, except perhaps brother Grax, who was still stuck in his pit, and the immature brother Draegon, who had written a poem and drawn a picture of Abaddon. 
6 Upon arriving at the ships, our squads grouped up, and boarded the ships. We were all told that the main fleet had moved on to the next system, and that we would catch up with it sometime tomorrow. Unfortunately, all the squads except the guv and his Raptors had been crammed into one ship, and there was only one huge room that we all had to share. Dumped my stuff in a corner and then went and did nothing with the rest of the lads. This was kinda fun for a while, but we stopped doing it after a while since we didn’t want to take all the fun out of it at once. 

Day 3, week 6
7 Last night was the worst night ever! Firstly, there was an incredibly strong stink of corruption and decay oozing from those damned Plague marines (Okey, I know we’re ALL damned, LITTERALLY, but you get my meaning). And through the night I was awoken several times by berzerkers cying “Blood for the Blood God!” in their sleep. One of them had even lashed out with his weapon while asleep, and in the morning I awoke in a puddle of blood next to a dead marine with a chain-axe dug into his chest.
8 In the guv’s abscence, we all had a merry time shouting out our best (and worst) jokes. I don’t know how many times I heard the words “World Munchers”, “Emperor’s Grandchildren”, “Thousand Daughters” and “Day Lords.” In the end, an execution was carried out by the sorcerer, who (it turned out) also has the right to execute, and who happened to be aboard our ship. He could have told us that he was present before brother Ixius shouted that thing about the sorcerer having lost his mind in the warp.
9 By mid-day, we had all had enough of the ship. The Tzeentchians were saying to each other: “We need a change of settings”, the Nurgloids were muttering: “We’ll never find that main fleet, there’s no hope for us”, the Slaaneshi were saying: “Let’s enjoy it while it lasts”, and the Khornates occasionally shouted “Blood for you-know-who!” 
10 But suddenly, the sorcerer shouted out: “We are now approaching the main Black Crusade fleet, please fasten your backpacks and put out your cigarettes and the raging fire in you souls. Boarding will commence in a few minutes.” Minutes later came a large “clank!” from the ship, and before we had time to say “What the warp is going on?”, the main doors to our ship opened. Beyond was a vast hangar full of shuttles, fighters, recon-craft and assault-boats. 
11 After exiting the dreaded transport ship in an organised fashion (well, not THAT organised, we’re Chaos after all), we were immediatly formed into ranks and adressed by some bigwig Exhalted Champion. Apparently, we were now aboard the ship “Immeasurable Rage”, and we had arrived just in time for his majesty Abaddon’s big speech. We watched it live from his battle barge on a big screen in the hangar, together with two other companies of marines.

“Honourable and not that honourable marines! Today our conquest of the galaxy officially begins. 
Today is the day when the Imperium will once again hear the might of the Warp approaching, like herd of mutant elephants, the day when they will feel the black and slimy talon of darkness reaching out from the depths. 
We shall once again sow terror in the hearts of the mortals, we shall once again be the ones who fan the embers of heresy into outright rebellion. 
This time, they will not stop us, for the shadow of Chaos cannot be stopped. It will always be there, watching humanity from without, like a camouflaged moth on a tree, and corrupting humanity from within, just like boozed-up blood does when you’re drunk.
Alone and divided we will not have much hope of defeating the imperium, for they are many, and we are... not that many. But when the legions of despair, the chosen of darkness stand together, we are probably unstoppable. 
And sitting on his golden butt with wires and pipes sticking out from every part of his body, the phoney emperor knows this. He thinks he has seen the gods at the peak of their powers, and knows that they are strong, too strong. But the beast of Chaos has not truly awoken from it’s slumber, and when it does, it’s powers will be beyond metric measure!” 

1 At this point, I stopped paying attention and instead stood watching the hottest Keeper of Secrets I have ever seen in my life, which was hovering half-visible above the ranks of marines, in a cloud of sparkling smoke. By the time it had vanished, his majesty’s speech was finished, and there came a deafening roar followed by loud chanting from all the other marines. I joined in, of course, although I wasn’t quite sure what we were chanting. In lack of imagination, I chanted “Rights for Squats!” (Popular chant these days) Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice.
2 At the end of a long day, we were split up and sorted into different companies, so some of our squads were transfered to different ships. Squad Mhorkorus, the berzerkers, were teleported aboard the “Everlasting Fury”, a ship under command of one Lord Xenofexius, champion of Khorne. The Plague marines of Squad Traghius also departed, to form the Honour Guard (read: Odour Guard) of a Nurgloid champion known only as Infectius. And as for the guv, he and his squad of Raptors also left the ship, destined to become part of his majesty Abaddon’s 1st Company.
3 Finally, after a long day featuring a lot of waiting for orders, we were given cabin-keys. My cabin-mate turned out to be brother Furiax, a good friend (or “Battle Companion”; Chaos marines aren’t supposed to have friends, apparently.) 

Day 4, week 6
3 Almost overslept on my first day in the crusade, as I was too fast asleep to hear sarge banging on the door with a powerfist (I didn’t wake up before he accidentaly smashed the fist THROUGH the door and knocked the already-awake brother Furiax back to sleep.)
4 Went to the main hall for a first day briefing and orientation together with the rest of the company. We were all glad to hear that we would get our bikes today, and after the Exhalted Champion Astralax had babbled uninteresting nonsence for what seemed like a few weeks (time flows differently in the warp), our squad were teleported aboard the fleet’s supply ship.
5 Once there, we entered the large storage-rooms, and made our way through mountains of crates, forests of chains and oceans of nuts and bolts, and finally found all the crusade’s bikes lined up neatly in a (long) row. We all picked out a bike each. I chose a newly captured imperial model, featuring the newest twin bolters and a neat skull-motif, which I chose not to remove. When everyone was satisfied, we got on our metal steeds and drove back to the teleport area. Only one of us managed to reach the destination without crashing or falling off: the multi-talented (and proud of it) brother Jaeger. Personally, I managed to drive full speed straight inside an open Land Raider, which hadn’t been so bad if there wasn’t already a squad of big and spiky terminators inside. Brother Furiax tried to do a wheelie, but he managed only to get thrown to the floor and getting knocked unconscious. His bike continued across the room, and a marine from another squad got his helmet-hair entangled in the bike’s front wheel. His head was twisted around several times before anyone came to the rescue, but fortunately the marine was daemon-possessed and didn’t feel a thing. Brother Halus, on the other hand, crashed into a crate of missiles, and it ended with explosive results. And to make matters worse, the near-dead Halus couldn’t receive any treatment for his wounds, since the fleet’s only sick-bay has been taken over by Fabius Bile. Brother Halus became our squad’s first casualty of the crusade. 
6 When we arrived back on the “Immeasurable Rage”, we were given some important messages from Exhalted Champion Astralax. Tomorrow, biker-newbies are going to train their skills on some barren desert-planet. And the day after tomorrow, we’re going on our first raid! 

Day 5, week 6
7 Landed on the desert-planet early in the morning, to begin practising on bikes immediatly. The huge open space really gave us all the room we wanted, and we quickly sped off in different directions. After three hours of practise and five hours of trying to find the rendezvous-point, our squad was back at the landing-site. Only one casualty, brother Bravius had apparently fallen into a huge pit with teeth, somewhere in the great ocean of sand. That leaves our squad reduced to eight marines before we’ve seen any real action. 
8 Later, we received full briefing of tomorrow’s mission. Tomorrow, the fleet will be divided into smaller groups of ships, although his majesty Abaddon usually prefers his stuff to be “undivided”. Anyway, our company’s fast attack units have been selected to aid the Iron Warriors 11th Grand Company in assaulting the planet Selectius VII (We didn’t like this alliance one bit, but according to Lord Astralax: “...in a Black Crusade, you’ve got to be prepared for situations like this, blah blah blah...”) We all left the briefing in a bad mood, although I guess we’re going to Selectius tomorrow no matter how much we hate the Iron Warriors.

Day 6, week 6
9 Started the day with a last minute briefing with sarge, who had been told the battle-plans by the Warsmith of the Iron Warriors. Fortunately, it’s a fairly straightforward plan. Unfortunately, the plan consists of our squad driving full speed into an imperial-held trench-complex, where we according to plan are supposed to: “deal as much damage as possible, and stay clear of incoming Iron Warriors artillery-fire.” And of course, the always annoying last message: “Expect Imperial Space Marine resistance.” Shortly after the meeting, we all went and wrote “Despair!” on our armour. (Note: In case you wondered, this commonly displayed word has nothing to do with the end of the universe. Those who display it on their armour have simply been given hopeless missions.)

Selectius VII
At 0900 hours, local time, we descended on the planet Selectius VII. From the second we entered low orbit, our ships took heavy fire. Last minute orders and prayers to the dark ones filled the comm-system, and the first-glance terrain analyses were given to our squad. The words we heard had undoubtably been picked straight from the first page of the book “What a biker doesn’t want to hear”. The senctence “Bumpy, wet and muddy” stuck to our minds like leeches, sucking out every last drop of courage and hope. 
The second after the door of our transport opened, like the maw of an nightmarish beast, we embarked with the deafening roar of deamonic engines. Squeezing triggers and spraying forth bullets as if our lives depended on it (which wasn’t far from the truth), Squad Sargoth raced ahead into the foggy no-man’s land. In our wake followed black-painted personel-carriers and the armoured giants of our Land Raiders.
We sped across the hellish half-swamp, our coloured tails of helmet-hair flowing in the wind, bullets, lasers and rockets coming straight at us and whining past our heads, providing us with a much-appreciated adrenaline kick. 
As my bike skidded into a ditch and a bolter-shell strafed my shoulderplate, the bike ahead of me exploded, the colossal blast shaking the ground like the stride of a titan. Like a blossoming flower of fire, the explosion lit up it’s surroundings, and I was blinded by it’s white core. Infernal heat made my sweat pour, and cowering behind my bike like a beetle under a rock, I shouted through my comm-link “Taking heavy fire!”
A series of shouts, roars, screams and battlecries filled my ears as I reached for my trusted bolt pistol, acnowledging the fact that my metal steed could carry me no further. I lept forth from cover, and with the angry scream of a bolt-pistol firing, I emptied a magazine of bullets into the darkness ahead of me. 
The fog of war was thick as a warp-storm, and my surroundings blacker than my soul. But undaunted, I strode forth with fiendish bravery, and gunned down a pitiful mortal before he had time to shout for help. The roaring noise of explosions was all around, and the booming pulse of bolter-fire filled the air. Another hapless target presented itself, a wounded imperial soldier striving to reload his weapon. A merciless slash of my sword ended his suffering, and I advanced through the war-zone, my eyes scanning the visible terrain for another victim; Another victim to be sacrificed to the ever-increasing might of Chaos! Muhahahaha, I love this job!!
Soon, the unmistakeable sound of incoming artillery-fire drowned the other noises of battle. The ground shook as explosive shells impacted amongst us, blowing men and machines to bits, and sending debris and severed limbs flying. The blasts blew us off our feet, and ear-shattering bangs made men scream in pain. Total havoc, absolute chaos, survival instinct was the only thing that controlled us. Men fought each other for the little cover available, and all sence of martial honour and bravery was forgotten as death rained upon us from above. 
Sudden heavy-bolter fire could be heard nearby, and I was punched off my feet as a speeding shell hit me in the side, sending me to the ground in indescribable pain. As warriors clashed all around me, shouting war-cries and entering the fray suicidally, and I slowly sank into the mud, and my vision faded...

Day 7, week 6
10 Found myself lying bandaged in my bed when I woke up, with brother Furiax leaning over me. He told me that our mission yesterday had gone EXACTLY as we had predicted: Impossible terrain for biking, heavily outnumbered in enemy territory, and the Iron Warriors fire-support made things just as bad for us as for the imperials. Fortunately, most of the friendly casualties had been from squad Dravius, the other biker squad that had joined us in the assault. Squad Sargoth had taken only two casualties, brothers Vulkus and Rhengar.
11 Spent most of the day recovering from my injury, and discussing yesterday’s mission with the lads. At least Vulkus and Rhengar didn’t die in vain, as I learned that the forces of Chaos had won the battle yesterday, and already enslaved the entire planet’s population. But although the Iron Warriors received all the honour for the victory, their Warsmith simply replied: “About time!”
12 For fun, our squad went to the Word Bearers’ victory-party, celebrating that they had converted two entire planets to our religion in only one day. The party offered a lot of drunken praying, an unholy amount of wall-to-wall vomiting, and of course the Word Bearers sang their favourite drinking-song (as fast as they could): “How many words could a Word Bearer bear, if a Word Bearer could bear words?”

Day 1, week 7
13 Woke up without my armour, lying on my back on the Word Bearers’ Altar of Sacrifice which I vaguely remeber from last night. After regrouping with the rest of the lads and removing a large dagger from my chest (it had only pierced one heart, fortunately), we left the Word Bearers ship “Lorgars Hand of Fire”, and returned to our quarters on the Immeasurable Rage. 
14 I received treatment for my wound, and I thoroughly regret my drunken descision last night (Being sacrificed to the dark gods WASN’T a blast after all...) But the Word Bearers have ten thousand years of experience when it comes to sacrificing stuff (especially marines), so how they managed NOT to kill me remains a mystery.
15 Later, Lord Astralax gave us the weekly crusade update. Tragically, almost the entire squad Varrus has been KIA (Killed In Action), and most of squad Mhorkorus has been SIA (Slaughtered in Action). I’m crossing my fingers (and the tentacle equivalent) that brother Arturion of squad Mhorkorus survived. 
More unhappy news: the Nurgle champion Infectius has left the crusade without permission, to search for the Plague Planet. Under his command were numerous Plague marine-squads, including my mates in squad Traghius. I’m really dissapointed that Traghius and his lads have left us, and besides, it’s not like Nurgloids to do things like that, since they usually hate all kinds of change.
There was more news. Apparently, the Alphans were inches from defeat on Framork III. After the main battle-plan and four backup-plans had failed, their 5th backup consisted of calling for support from the Iron Warriors 9th Grand Company. The Iron Warriors commenced using their standard tactic, and almost fifty Alpha warriors, two bike-squads, three Rhinos and commander Hydraxus were accidentaly annihilated by their orbital bombardment. With the Alphans dead, the orks claimed victory, as the Iron Warriors were short on bombs, and ran out before the entire planet had been scorched. 

Day 2, week 7
16 Early today, we were all told that the imperials have started offering some real resistance, and apparently, they plan on taking the fight to us. An anti-Chaos crusade has been formed from several chapters of Space Marines. These chapters have been selected to not only defend planets we attack, but also to be on the offensive, attacking the Black Crusade fleet. According to our sorcerer, a small number of space marine assault-squadrons are already pursuing us, which is bad news for our ship since it’s trailing at the very end of the fleet. 
17 Most of the day was spent learning how to control our ship’s turrets, how to fight in deep space, and some of us were selected to learn piloting skills, so our assault-boats can provide some resistance when the imperials arrive. 
18 After a few hours of the assault-boats racing each other round and round the ship, while the turret-operators practised their marksmanship by trying to hit us, we were back in the hangar bay. Squad Rhazior challenged us to a friendly game of Blood Hockey in a nearby asteroid-field, so we got back aboard the ships and headed for the asteroid selected for the game. The game was a good one (we won), though much fun is taken from a Blood Hockey game if it isn’t played with the full rules. The game really helped us ease up a bit, taking our minds away from the possible imperial attack on our fleet. 

Day 3, week 7

1 Today, our squad agreed to do our part of keeping Blood Hockey a popular game for millennia to come. We decided on trying to preserve the rules by writing them down and putting them in a so-called “time capsule”. We all wrote down one part of the game each, and my task was to make a note of weapons commonly used in “Friendly-games”, like the one we played yesterday. Too bad it had to take up space in my dreaded diary, but here it is anyway:

1 One-handed mace: Useful for knocking out players without severing limbs or creating bloody wounds. 
2 Knife: Light, frequently double-bladed, handy for stabbing your way out a crowd of players. In friendly-games, the blades are usually shortened, so they can’t penetrate dangerously deep into an opposing player. However, the knife’s major function is that it can be poisoned. Liquids that can (temporarily) make a wounded player weak, blind, hallucinate or go insane are popular.
3 Cattle-prod: Electrically-charged device which inflicts a mild electro-shock when in contact with a player. Good for making a player lose his concentration, excellent when aimed at players’ weak spots. 
4 Grappling-device: Launches a hook with a piece of rope attached to it. Incredibly handy for pulling players to the ground, making players trip, and if wielded with expert skill, snatching the skull from enemy players.
5 Net: As simple as it sounds. For better results, the net can be dipped in tar or glue before a game.
6 Small creature: Some players bring a lucky creature with them onto the pitch. Varying from familiars and Nurglings to baby goblins and giant spiders, a creature can prove very effective if trained to perform useful tasks on the pitch. And if it doesn’t obey, throwing it in the faces of opposing players or holding it’s tail and swinging it around like a flail works too.
7 On worlds where the devices and weapons above are hard to come by, all manners of crude devices are used: Rakes, spades, hammers, saws, slings, handfulls of sand, rocks, sticks, and if nothing else presents itself: bare fists and fingers with sharp nails.

7 After writing it all down and placing a copy aboard a space-coffin which we shot into space, we decided to pay a visit to the Emperor’s Children. We had heard that yesterday they suffered terrible losses during the easiest of missions, thanks that pesky Legion of the Damned. You can be sure that when victory is in sight, those black-armoured bastards will show up in their usual fashion and “save the day.” We jumped aboard a transport and headed for the Slaaneshi ship.
8 We arrived on board the ship to the strangest of sounds. Lying about in the hangar, we found a small group of Noise Marines, who were jamming half-heartedly with their sonic-weapons while they smoked at least three joints each. Those who didn’t wear helmets looked like hell, drooling and staring into the air with their empty eyes. (Note: Don’t ever have a speaker operated into your mouth. It looks really unconfortable!)
9 We continued into the ship and found the corridors and halls littered with Slaaneshi marines and cultists, lying about just like the Noise Marines. Many of them were wired up to the drug-outlets in the wall. They babbled nonsence and sighed with satisfaction, cuddling together in heaps, the cultists caringly polishing the armour of the marines while they wispered sweet lines of decadence into their ears. The walls were covered in multicoloured grafitti, displaying rude pictures as well as beautiful landscapes from the most idyllic daemon-worlds. 
10 We finally found the officer in charge, a newly appointed Chaos Lord (or Drug Lord, as Slaaneshis prefer to be called) who told us that yesterday their inspirational and much loved former leader had been killed, and very few had survived the ambush of the black marines. We soon left the depressed Emperor’s Children, since they proved no fun when all they wanted to do was die high.

Day 4, week 7
1 A massive fight broke out in the mess this morning. We were eating breakfast with squad Rhazior when sarge and sergeant Rhazior got annoyed with each other for some forgotten reason. Rhazior punched sarge in the face with his powerfist, and soon we were all fighting. During the early stages of the fight, two speeding bullets bound for my head somehow hit each other in mid air, both getting knocked out of course and killing two marines from Squad Rhazior instead! (Can it have had anything to do with my extra prayer to Tzeentch last night?) Anyway, I was the great hero of the battle, single-handedly rescuing brother Fermicus from the clutches of squad Rhazior, who had fortified themselves in the kitchen. My combat-skills with the saucepan became legendary today, since only a few marines had brought along their weapons to breakfast, and I wasn’t one of them. (We haven’t had to bring weapons to breakfast since that time back on Ytholgar, when the chef served Nurgling-stew without killing the Nurglings first.) 
2 Spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess in the mess after the fight. I KNEW brother Fermicus had gone too far when he fired a missile into the kitchen to avenge being held hostage by squad Rhazior. And trying to breach the kitchen-wall by catapulting the huge stewpan at it wasn’t the brightest of ideas either. And we all thoroughly regretted igniting the oven-gas, since the resulting flame-blast had ruined the oven and burnt a week’s worth of food. Squad Rhazior were sent down to a nearby planet to get more water, since they had used up all the water by boiling it and hurling it out the kitchen-door at us during the fight. And they were also given the responsibility to replace the mess-tables which had been used as barricades, the meat-steaks which had been used as clubs, and of course the kitchen crew, who they had used as gun-fodder during our first assault.
3 Later, brother Xathras and I went around the ship looking for fun. We found a teleport-homer in the hangar, and Xathras “over-focused it’s proximity-level” (Don’t ask me what that means, but it sounded cool.). Then we managed to hide the homer inside the Dreadnought “Blackwound”. 

Day 5, week 7
3 Awoke to some shattering news. Apparently, during a Deep Strike mission last night, our company’s entire squad of Terminators had been killed, and we’d also lost a Dreadnought! It was really a freak accident: All the terminators had materialised INSIDE the Dreadnought when teleporting down to the planet-surface. Xathras tried to assure me that what we had done with the teleport-homer and the Dreadnought yesterday had nothing to do with the accident. But I don’t really care, since a vital part of being a Chaos marine is to not care about anything! 
4 More bad news, perhaps even worse than the first. Brother Jaeger from our squad had the most terrible nightmares last night. He witnessed the death of our beloved Warmaster at the hands of the false Emperor. You see, deeply ingrained within our Black Legion' gene-seed is the encoded experience of Horus, and many say that most deeply imprinted of all is the memory of his final battle with the Emperor. Sometimes an event or circumstance will trigger this memory. This appears to happen only rarely, often on the eve of battle, and it is likely to be a fatal experience for the warrior whose mind is suddenly wrenched into the distant past. What has become known as the Black Hatred overcomes him, the memories and consciousness of Horus intrude upon his mind, and dire events ten thousand years old flood into the present. This we know to be true. To others, a Chaos Space Marine overcome by the Black Hatred appears half mad with fury: he is unable to distinguish past from present, and does not recognise his comrades. He may believe he is Horus upon the eve of his destruction, and that the bloody battles of the Horus Heresy are raging around him. As well as Horus’s memories, the Chaos Space Marine is touched with a small portion of the Warmaster’s unearthly power, boosting the warrior's already prodigious strength and vitality to superhuman levels. Those Chaos marines who suffer this condition are formed into units known as the “Eyes of Horus.” That’s where we’ll find brother Jaeger from now on. I THINK the imperials have an equivalent of our “Eyes of Horus.”
5 Later, Sarge showed us a ten thousand years old picture the Guv, the only guy we know who’s been around since the days before the Heresy. Can you believe that GREY was our fashion in those days? It makes ya think...*


----------



## KiwackaBear (Nov 13, 2008)

*Part 2!!!*

Day 6, week 7
1 This morning, by sheer coincidence, I bumped into brother Arzhar. He’s joined squad Dharkos, the possessed, and is having one hell of a time scaring the ***** out of the enemies they face. And if a creature like Arzhar comes running towards you, you’ll either wet yourself with fear or fall to the ground laughing. Either way, Arzhar will have the advantage. Also, he’s been gifted more goodies from the gods, including the arm of a praying mantis, the backside of an elephant and some monkey’s ears. He introduced me to his squad, basically a bunch of crazy daemons using dead marine bodies as vehicles to move about in the material universe. Charming. 
2 Felt like doing something evil (it’s perfectly natural for a Chaos marine), so brother Xathras and I teleported from ship to ship, telling all the other legions how our genius of a primarch had corrupted their primarches. You should have seen the look on the Iron Warriors warsmith when we told him that it was Horus, not the Emperor, who had been giving the Iron Warriors all those hopeless missions in the days before the heresy. It was priceless! However, our fun was cut short when the Word Bearers proudly announced that they had turned to Chaos before Horus did. But then we went to the Night Lords and reminded them that their primarch was killed by a puny female imperial assassin. Finally, we dropped by an Alpha Legion ship. Annoyingly enough, we couldn’t find any flaws to make fun of, but shouting “Alpharius was a fool!” (even without anything to back it) conjured up the reaction we were looking for. Perhaps we hit a nerve...
3 Later in the evening, just before we were about to retreat to our quarters for the night, came the devastating news. Lord Astralax came to our squad and delivered us the message. Squad Sargoth is in danger of being disbanded! According to Astralax, there have been so many complaints against our squad that his majesty Abaddon feels he has no choice but to get rid of us. Fortunately, Astralax managed to convince Abaddon to give us one last chance, which we’ll really have to take, since there was no shortage of reaons why we are the legion’s major liability. Firstly, there was our tendency to party wildly, not take our religion seriously, slaughter other squads in blood-hockey matches, not listen to orders being given, oversleep in the morning, download nude pics of N’Kari and other Slaaneshis on the ship’s main computer, all those things. And then there was the battle in the mess, our terrible bike-skills, our squad’s general disrespect to anyone except sarge, and last but not least the Dreadnought incident, which we are sure to be executed for if they ever find out who was responsible for it. Oh, and many members of other legions had complained about the little bit of fun we had earlier today, when we had run around taunting them. 

Day 7, week 7
1 Today, we were visited by a group of die-hard Nurgloids. Their Champion had newly been given the legs of a fly. Imagine trying to walk about on those thin little legs when you’re eight feet tall and wearing power-armour... Well, at least he can hang from the ceiling, and I guess it could be worse. One time back in camp I heard a story of a Slaaneshi Champion who was given a most unusual gift by his patron god. All his body-parts became erogenous. Whether this was meant to be advantageous or not, we will never know...
2 Later, we all teleported aboard the supply-ship which was passing through the fleet en route to the Eye. The ship was carrying all kinds of junk. Before we departed from it, I had got hold of a collection of Waystones, a shrunken ork-head, two kegs of some kind of drink, and Angron’s autograph signed in blood (probably a fake, since I doubt Angron really spells his name with a smiley at the end. Furiax found a fake “Forgebreaker”-hammer, a pint of old combat-drugs, a humourous parody of the Codex Astartes, and a crappy old weapon with “Mjalnar” engraved into it’s rusty blade. We also got our hands on an old map, quite fortunate, since we couldn’t get hold of any toilet paper! And who’s looking for the location of a so-called “Black Library”, anyway?
3 Later in the evening, our ship was almost hit by a two-tailed comet! We watched it zoom past our window and impact on a nearby planet. We were originally scheduled to virus-bomb that planet for fun, but Lord Astralax assumed that the comet had probably already caused some serious destruction. And when a comet impacts on a planet, it’s gonna destroy a little more than just a single town. Trust me. 

Day 1, week 8
1 Today, we woke up to find that the Tzeentchian cultists aboard the ship had been quite busy during the night. Driven by their need for constant change, they had been re-furnished every room, re-painted many of the walls, and done an impressive cleaning-job: All the filth and snot and slime which used to lie around was gone! Unable to do much, the unimpressed Nurgloids settled for “Okay, as long as it stays this way forever.” After all, they couldn’t just CHANGE everything back to how it used to be, cause Nurgle hates change! So narrow-minded, those gods...
2 After quite a dramatic start to the day (We still can’t find where the Tzeentchians have put our backpacks!), everything was ready for the annual Daemon Festival! With the combined effort of several Sorcerers, a small warp-gate was opened right inside the hangar of our ship, and daemons poured fouth from the depths of the Realm of Chaos. All kinds of games and activities were organised by a Daemon Prince, and we all had a hell of a time. Brother Furiax and I competed in a game of “Squash the Nurgling”, where the aim of the game is to squeeze the biggest amount of pus and slime out of a Nurgling. Even though Furiax’s nurgling was twice as bloated as mine, I easily won thanks to my tentacle-arm, which I wrapped round the little sucker and squeezed until every drop of slime was in the measuring-bucket. (Afterwards, I made a hat out of the empty Nurgling, which I gave to Furiax.) Later, we went to watch Sarge try a round of “Jugger-riding”, which is as simple as it sounds. It’s a rodeo-style game, except in this case your goal isn’t simply to stay on the creature’s back, but also to stay alive. Anyway, Sarge lasted for ten seconds, which was the new record, and so his life was spared. I really wanted to try out my skills at “Disc-surfing”, but one had to be a member of the Cult of Tzeentch in order to participate. So instead I went to arm-wrestle a Horror, followed by a trip over to the Fleshound-racing, where I won ten quid on Hound number 8. Then we watched an intense duel between Sarge and a Bloodletter. Sarge was just about to have his head chopped off when the Bloodletter was suddenly needed for a large Daemon-battle in the Realm of Chaos, and had to leave at once. Finally, I went and had a go at the always-popular game “Spank the Daemonette”. The fun ended when the warp-gate closed (those damned Sorcerers, can’t even hold a warp gate open for a day without dying of mind-boiling!) and all the daemons returned to the warp. 

Day 2, week 8
2 As always on the day after the Daemon Festival, the annual Chaos-awards were dished out. The first prize for “Most entertaining individual” went to Khornate Lord Xenofexius, for his stunning skill and feriocity with his one-handed great-axe. He was quoted saying “I like to make an entrance, also into the fray!” and also “Blood for the Blood God!” Second prize went to Hasmodion, Sorcerer Lord of Tzeentch, for his spectacular pre-battle pyrotechics-performances. Third place was awarded to the Slaaneshi Daemonette who used her belly-dancing/butt-shaking performance to spellbind an entire Imperial Guard regiment, before a force of Iron Hands landed on the planet. They weren’t quite as impressed. Although the daemonette was banished back to the warp, rumours say she can return to the mortal realm whenever, wherever... 
Other awards were:
Most entertaining legion: Emperor’s Children (War, drugs and musical entertainment together in one) 
Most boring legion: Iron Warriors (Trenches and ranged warfare, anyone?) 
Least read book: “Whistle while you work”, a documentary on the psychological effects of long-term trench-digging, by Warsmith Potassius.
Most entertaining battle: Death Guard vs Space Wolves on Vindobona III. The Plague marines carried rabies...
Second most entertaining battle: Night Lords vs Iron Hands on Kretius V. The Night Lords triggered an electromagnetic pulse, which rendered every cybernetic limb on the battlefield useless. Night Lords causalties 0%, Iron Hands casualties 100%.
Most sought-after item (for the 10000th year in a row, apparently): The other Talon of Horus 
Biggest TV-event: Servitor-paralympics on Mars
Most “FUBAR” individual: Brother Arzhar of squad Dharkos (Yay, I know a celebrity!)
Most frequently used last words: “I die for the dark gods!”, “I return to the Eye!”, “Avenge me!,” and of course “I promise it won’t happen again, Abaddon!”

Day 3, week 8
3 Heard from some marines from the 1st company that Abaddon does combat-drugs. Some role model... He’ll probably end up dead in a bath-tub like they all do...
4 Our old guv, Estragor, has been to the Realm of Chaos and seen his own death! This is usually a great honour and advantage for any Chaos Lord, but not when he witnesses his own demise is at the hand of a lucky gretchin sniper, something which *****ed him off a tad. So, apart from keeping clear of all greenskin activity, Estragor is now charging suicidally into battle all the time, with nothing to fear as long as there are no orkoids present.
5 Later, our squad gathered to dicuss why the warp we aren’t seeing any action. We joined the Black Crusade expecting to get some fighting and bloodletting done, but so far our only real mission was that hopeless bike-attack ages ago. Soon we decided that we’re going to go out and find ourselves a mission of our own, since none of the superiors seem to bother about assigning any tasks to us. But only one squad isn’t gonna win much by itself, so before we do anything drastic we’re gonna try to see whether any other squads or individuals are willing to join us.
6 The rest of the day we all spread out and searched throughout the fleet for squads willing to join us, while Sarge stayed in our quarters, trying to figure out a mission. I talked to brother Arzhar for a while, and soon I managed to convince him to come with us. I told him and his possessed friends that I would give them further notice when we’ve found out more.
Late in the evening, we all gathered together to share information. Apart from me having “recruited” squad Dharkos (the possessed), it turned out that several other squads or members of squads were willing to join us. The entire squad Rhazior and squad Zerus had no hesitation in teaming up with us. Sarge had spoken with a Champion of Khorne, Mhorkorus, who was also easily lead by the promise of more blood and skulls. He and the remnants of squad his squad are also with us. Brother Furiax had established understandings with a small group of Raptors who were the only Raptors not allowed to join the 1st Company, for unknown reasons. And last but not least, the warsmith of the Iron Warriors 11th Grand Company has suprisingly enough agreed to lend us some of his precious warriors. It didn’t take much talking before he did, in fact, he almost INSISTED that his warriors should join us for this mission. We’re expecting them to bring along some heavy weapons. The warsmith also offered to get hold of some ships for us to use. 
Finally, Sarge told us the plan. The day after tomorrow, we’ll rally our allies, board the ships provided by the warsmith, and head for the Ulixus system, where we shall attack a small asteroid-base containing some “information useful to the imperium but of no interest to us”, as Sarge put it. Finally some action!!

Day 4, week 8
1 Today, sarge informed us that the warsmith has already gotten hold of some ships for us. They are Black Legion ships, and the warsmith has registered their use in Sarge’s name, so he’s got responsibility for them. Very reassuring. But also, sarge has been promoted to lieutenant, not because he has excelled in the service of Chaos, but because he’s been around for ages. We’ll still call him Sarge, though.
2 Our crusade is falling apart! Yesterday, an entire squad of the 3rd Company died from something called Black Legionnaire’s Disease. And a few days ago, a squad of over-fanatical Word Bearers performed a ritual mass-suicide to honour the dark gods. The day before that, half a squad of Iron Warriors and hundreds of servitors died of exhaustion during the digging of a particularly long trench (their commander had grand plans of creating a battle-line spanning an entire planet.) And I’ve still not mentioned the force of Emperor’s Children who got stuck in the warp without having packed any drugs, and all died of abstinence. Well, all except for one of them who happened to be a necrophiliac, and who had the time of his life. And of course, the number of Plague Marines is constantly decreasing, since they have an uncanny ability to drown in their own slime and pus when sleeping.
3 Tomorrow, we go into action for the first time in ages. Everything is ready for our departure. The ships are waiting in the hangar-bay, the other squads are standing by, the Iron Warriors are ready, everything is set. 


Day 5, week 8

Warsmith Hasmodius studied the many radars, screens and small lights on the control-panel infront of him. But more importantly, his ears were keenly listening for a crucial message which should be arriving through the speaker any moment. My men can be trusted, he tried to convince himself, as he turned to face the two hideous servitors standing behind him, their eyes expressionless, their cybernetic limbs motionless. The intense sound of their mechanic lungs breathing was the only sign that the two figures were alive at all. Hasmodius looked at one of them, and with a deep booming voice he gave a command. 
“Make sure my shuttle is ready. Have my veterans board their transport ship.”
With series of clicks and beeps from within it’s chest and head, the servitor turned around robotically and left the room, his every footstep creating a sharp clank against the hard floor, as he wobbled through the door and down the corridor. 

Brother-sergeant Zerus broke the silence in the small, dark room. 
“Why hasn’t our warp-jump commenced yet?” 
Unanswered by his black armoured comrades who sat all around, the eight foot superhuman warrior tried to get up, but the seatbelts held him firmly in his place. Frustrated and annoyed, he switched on the comm-link in his helmet. “Captain, this is Squad Zerus. What’s keeping us from entering warpspace? And tell me again why we’re stuck in these seats, will you?”
There was a pause. Zerus sat silently awaiting an answer, but there was no reply. Only seconds had passed before he lost his patience, and spoke into the comm-link once more. 
“I repeat, this is Squad Zerus. What are we waiting for? Let’s get some action, shall we?”
No sooner had Zerus finished his senctence before the door to the room opened vertically, revealing two power-armoured silhoutettes standing just outside. The two Chaos Space Marines strode in through the door, their silver armour reflecting the light from the corridor outside. Both marines held flamers. 
“If you insist.” said one of them coldly, before they both opened fire with their weapons. 

Several minutes had passed before Warsmith Hasmodius received the message he was waiting for. 
“Warsmith Hasmodius, Squad Zerus and squad Mhorkorus have been taken care of. My men are dealing with squads Rhazior and Dharkos as we speak. We’re ready to open fire at the “Immeasurable Rage” at your signal, my lord.”
A pleasuring wave of relief rushed through the Warsmith’s tense body. He had put his trust in lieutenant Kragh, and the he had not failed to deliver. Barely controlling his fiendish excitement, Hasmodius held down a button on the control-panel, and spoke.
“Excellent, lieutenant Kragh. But what of Sargoth and his squad?”
“I will deal with them personally, my lord.” came the answer from the speaker, and the Chaos Lord eagerly replied once more. 
“Outstanding, lieutenant. I knew I could rely on you and your men. I’ll see to it personally that you will be rewarded for you efforts. Hold your fire for a few more minutes. I will be among you shortly. Hasmodius out.”
With this, he turned to face the servitor by the door. “Is my shuttle ready?”
With a monotone and soulless voice, the servitor answered. 
“Yes, warsmith. Shuttle standing by for departure. Transports loaded and standing by for departure. Assault-boats armed and standing by for departure.” 
Before exiting the room, Hasmodius reached for his pistol, and aimed at the control panel. One blast made sure that no records of the previous conversation would ever be heard by anyone, at least not until it was too late. Another, more whimsical shot put an end to the servitor’s miserable existence. Laughing cruelly, the Iron Warrior left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Lieutenant Kragh walked up to the massive door and peered through the screen, seeing the Black Legion marines stuck in their seats inside. There sat their sergeant, Sargoth, in the seat right inside the door. Kragh switched on the small mircophone by the door, and spoke to the marines inside through a speaker in the top corner of the room.
“This is lieutenant Kragh of the Iron Warriors. You’ve probably understood by now that things aren’t going exactly according to plan. That’s because warsmith Hasmodius has other plans, plans which you will not be alive to witness.” Kragh smiled to himself at the thought of what was to come.
“But I can reveal to you what is going to happen shortly after your demise. In only a few minutes, every ship in our possession will open fire on the ship “Everlasting Fury” and of course your own “Immeasurable Rage”. 
Kragh paused for a while to let the news sink in amongst the trapped Black Legionaries. Looking through the small window, he saw the dark-armoured remain quite still. Had they heard him? Kragh continued: 
“I wonder how Lord Astralax and more importantly Lord Abaddon will react when their trusted servants Sargoth, Mhorkorus, Rhazior, and Zerus suddenly open fire on their own fleet?”
Looking at the screen, Kragh noticed that the marines inside still seemed strangely calm. Not even one was trying to break free from his seat. Have the usually so hateful sons of Horus chosen simply to accept such a fate? Fighting his urge to open the door and find out, the Iron Warrior veteran spoke again through the microphone.
“It was in fact YOU who triggered this event. Had it not been for your foolish men, Sargoth, then we would never have learnt of how Horus used our primarch Perturabo to fight his worst battles for him, throwing his honourable warriors into the jaws of death whenever he had the opportunity. For this, you, Horus’s own sons, will pay!” The Iron Warrior spoke with a hate-filled voice, grinding his teeth together as he thought of those dark days of the distant path, the days before the Iron Warriors legion had finally broken free from the rule of the false emperor.
“Today starts our vengeance against Abaddon and his Black Legion! And when this news reaches Perturabo, sitting atop his iron throne in the towers of Medrengard, no Son of Horus will escape our wrath! And you can do nothing to prevent it!”
Kragh laughed through the microphone as he loaded his bolt pistol. Just before opening the door, he heard the sound which he had been waiting for. The sound of the ship’s cannons opening fire. And he knew the black marines heard it also. Sargoth’s fate was now sealed. The Black Legion fleet knew nothing of Hasmodius’s activities, and lieutenant Sargoth was responsible for every shot being fired. The Iron Warrior pushed the door-button. He loaded his pistol and took a step forward.
“And now, Sargoth, you will be the first to feel our wrath.” 
Kragh hadn’t noticed the two empty seats inside.

Warsmith Hasmodius watched the constant hail of laser-blasts impact on the unshielded hull of the “Immeasurable Rage.” Not prepared for such an unsuspected assault, the gigantic Black Legion ship was defenceless against the relentless fire. Explosions blossomed all over the colossal behemoth of a spaceship, as a radio-message arrived on the bridge of the ship where Hasmodius stood.
“Lieutenant Sargoth, do you read me? This is Lord Commander Astralax of the “Immeasurable Rage”. Cease your fire immediatly!”
A broad and evil smile covered the Iron Warrior warsmith’s face as he listened to the frustrated voice of the Black Legion lord. If only he knew what was really going on. 
“Repeat: Lieutentant Sargoth, do you read me? Cease your fire immediatly, or you will be fired upon!”
Looking across the short distance in space, Hasmodius saw several squadrons of Swiftdeath fighters exiting the hangar-bay of the Immeasurable, to defend their crippled starship. 
“Their fighters have been lauched. Make sure the the anti-fighter turrets are fully manned and operational, and get our shields up.” At the warsmith’s command, the crewmen and servitors on the bridge hastily rushed from one control panel to another. 
“And cease fire at the “Everlasting Fury”, and instead concentrate all fire on the “Immeasurable”. I want that ship destroyed before we enter the warp!” 
Seconds later, the radio-link sounded once more. This time, the voice was a hate-fuelled roar.
“This is Lord Commander Xenofexius of the “Everlasting Fury”! You have opened fire on my personal ship, and such an action will not go unpunished! Prepare to face the wrath of Khorne!”
Xenofexius? What could he possibly do, wondered Hasmodius. From intercepting several transmissions, Hasmodius knew that the Khornate lord’s ship held no fighters and had virtually no operational turrets. Hoping that he had not overseen any flaws in his plan, the Iron Warrior looked anxiously across the control-panel, checking the radar for signs of any unwelcome visitors. 

With a loud bang, Lieutenant Kragh was slammed into the wall with such force that his left shoulderplate almost splintered. He fell to the floor, but although his helmeted head was knocked hard against the solid metal surface, the Iron Warrior tried desperately to reach his bolt pistol which he had dropped to the floor. But he reacted far too slow. The next second, a huge and heavy armoured boot landed heavily on his stomach, making the Chaos Marine loose his breath. The boot thumped down again and again, and before Kragh had time to roll over, a sword was mercilessly stabbed into his torso from above. The blade found it’s way between two armour-plates, while a slimy tentacle slithered around the Iron Warrior’s throat like a serpent, strangling him. 
“Get to the bridge and cease that fire imediatly!” shouted Lieutenant Sargoth with a strong, dark voice as he was cut loose from his seat by brother Fermicus. “Ghaurion, Furiax, leave him!” At their leader’s command, the bloodthirsty and enraged Chaos marines halted their efforts, Ghaurion’s tentacle arm loosening it’s grip, Furiax’s sword left buried in the Iron Warrior’s bloody chest. 
Sargoth looked at the wounded marine wreathing on the floor, too weak to pull the deeply-stabbed sword from his torso. He soon stopped moving. Sargoth spat at the dying figure before exiting the room behind his comrades. Before he set off down the corridor, Sargoth gave another order: “Brother Fermicus and brother Xathras, attempt to locate squads Rhazior and Zerus! Rendezvous-point in the hangar-bay after we’ve taken care of the Iron Warriors.”

Hasmodius spoke into the radio, giving orders to his men aboard the other ships. 
“Prepare to enter warpspace as soon as the Immeasurable has been destroyed. And be on the lookout for...”
He was suddenly interrupted by lieutenant Appolonus’s loud voice coming through the radio, accompanied by the sound of gunshots and screaming in the background.
“Warsmith, Lord Xenofexius and several squads of World Eaters have boarded our ship!! They’ve disabled our warp-drives, and might be attempting to...”
A mighty boom was the last sound to be heard from the radio, silencing Appolonus before he had completed his last sentence. And before Hasmodius could reply, the floor beneath him shook as the Black Legion Swiftdeath-squadrons opened fire on his ship. Three fighters roared past just outside the bridge, firing a salvo of shots which made the entire ship shake once more. 
As Hasmodius staggered across the floor looking for something to hold on to, a weak and wounded-sounding voice sounded in his helmet comm-link. 
“My Lord, a squad of ...of Black Legionaires have ... escaped and are rampaging through the ship... They.. they caught us off g-guard, and have ... released... ...”
For the first time for centuries, the veteran Chaos Space Marine lord felt mortal fear. Now there were no mine-fields or trench-lines between him and the enemy, no crippling artillery fire, no devastating Predators or Land Raiders. But desperately trying to retain his calmness, he spoke through his comm-link again.
“All men on the alert! Black Legionaires have escaped their cells! All marines to their posts!”
Then Hasmodius switched off his comm-link and turned to the bridge-crew. 
“Close the blast-doors throughout the ship, and activate the internal corridor-turrets. Make sure no man reaches the bridge alive.” 
The ship shook again, pounded by fire from Black Legion fighters and starships alike, and soon the shields would not be able to deflect the incoming fire any more. Looking over at the near-destroyed Immeasurable Rage, large pieces of debris floating about in space around it, Warsmith Hasmodius made up his mind.
“Initiate the jump to warp-space, and notify the other ships of our departure. Set the course for the Medrengard system. We cannot afford to stay here any longer.” 

As the thick blast doors to the bridge closed with a hissing sound, but just as the Iron Warrior commander finally felt that the situation was under control, a cluster of unidentified ships suddenly appeared on the radar. And looking out into space in the direction the radar had pointed out, Hasmodius saw that a group of gleaming white ships had appeared in the distance. Imperial ships. They couldn’t have timed their arrival better, thought Hasmodius angrily. Firstly, destroying the Immeasurable Rage had taken much longer time than he had predicted, and now this.

Then suddenly there was a deafening bang followed by the screeching sound of metal being torn, and the startled Warsmith turned to see a large hole in the thick blast doors. Now standing inside the room was the most hideous of creatures, a terrible mutated beast twice the size of a man, tentacles and claws sprouting from every part of it’s body. Hasmodius couldn’t even make out it’s face, let alone produce his trusted bolter, before the hell-spawned thing charged at him. It’s numerous long limbs batted aside the Iron Warrior’s arms which he had haplessly raised to protect himself. The weight of the creature smashed Hasmodius to the floor, and a gigantic crab’s claw closed around his neck. The doomed warsmith screamed with pain as he felt his body crushed by the weight of the beast, and his legs and torso being pierced by long, razor-sharp scythes. Then the strong claw around his neck snapped shut. His severed head rolled across the floor, and stopped at the feet of a black armoured Chaos marine who also had entered the room.
“In the name of Horus, cease that fire immediatly!!” shouted lieutenant Sargoth loudly, pointing his boltgun at the frightened crewmen and servitors standing by the control-panels. They were quick to react, hastily pushing buttons, pulling levers and adjusting switches. As soon as the sound of the ship’s fire had come to an end, Sargoth pulled the trigger of his bolter, his merciless fire cutting down every single crewman and servitor on the bridge. 
Brothers Ghaurion and Furiax entered the room through the hole in the blast doors. Sargoth acknowledged their prescence, before walking over to the control panel. The entire ship shook, and the marines barely managed to stay on their feet. His eyes panning the control-panel, Sargoth spoke to his marines.
“I have to contact Lord Astralax and explain the situation. The Iron Warriors have tried to destroy Black Legion ships, and framing our squad for doing it.” 
He turned and looked with disgust at the foul Chaos Spawn, lying on top of the dead warsmith’s body, gnawing a severed arm. Blood was everywhere. 
“Take Arzhar and go to the hangar bay, where squads Zerus and Rhazior should be waiting. Board the transports which have warp-drives and enter warpspace. Astralax may not be convinced that Warsmith Hasmodius framed us, so we’ll take no chances. Staying here might get us all killed.”
Ghaurion spoke.
“But lieutenant, what of yourself?”
Sargoth stood silent for a moment, then answered.
“I will stay to pay the price for our failure. If it is the will of the gods, then we shall meet again. Go now, while you still have the chance.”
With this, the marines coldly obeyed their leader’s orders and left the room, dragging the hideous monster with them through the hole. As the marines made their way to the hangar-bay of the ship, several squadrons of Space Marine fighters closed in on the Black Legion fleet. 

“Divine Servant, this is Captain Lyonis of Gauntlet Squadron. A number of fleeing traitor transport-ships are initiating their warp-drives. We’re moving to intercept.” 
The space marine calmly twisted his flight-stick to avoid a large piece of debris floating through space. With the speed of lightning, his squadron of ATTACK CRAFT sped through space towards the transports, their cannons opening fire as soon as they came within range. The few answering turrets mounted on the transports were quickly blasted out of action, and the defenceless ships could do nothing as they were singled out and destroyed one by one by the ruthless and efficient White Consuls. 
“Gauntlet leader, the last transport is avoiding the Emperor’s wrath. Make sure it does not escape, Captain.”
Captain Lyonis looked at his flight-radar, and watched the last blinking red spot disappear from the screen. Too late. Lyonis had been trusted to inflict the Emperor’s vengeance upon each one of the traitors, but had failed to deliver. Now only the divine Emperor could forgive him.....(Much later)...


“Attention unidentified Chaos transport, this is the battle-cruiser Rotblade of the Death Guard. I command you to respond, in the name of Nurgle!” 
Ghaurion dragged himself to his feet, and walked slowly over to the communication-systems. Finally someone had received his distress-calls. This was his last and only chance. For how long his transport had drifted through space, he did not know. Months, years, decades perhaps. He had no idea how long it had been since brother Furiax and Arzhar the Chaos Spawn had died. Since then, he had been all alone. All the servitors and crewmen had been killed during the first days, the Chaos Marines having fed on their warm flesh since there was no other food available. 
Gharion was no navigator or fleet officer. The Chaos Marine had barely managed to stay alive aboard his transport, let alone guide it through the sea of stars. Looking over at the large grey battle-cruiser which had newly entered the system, Ghaurion felt his supernatural body struggle to stay on it’s feet as he switched on the comm-link. 
“Calling Rotblade. This is Brother Ghaurion .. of the ... Black Legion. My...“ 
Ghaurion’s vision darknened. He heard his own voice fade, and suddenly felt extremely weak and weary. For so long his body had tried to stay alive, for so long had the Black Legionnaire clung to life as it slowly slipped through his fingers. Now his time had come, and Ghaurion felt it. He felt the very Immaterum surge into him, through him, pulling his damned soul from it’s mortal body and into an eternal black depth. Twisted faces appeared before his eyes, screaming and gibbering voices echoed inside his head. Daemons of the warp. They were his masters now. Serving Chaos is a gamble that every mortal is destined to lose, how had he not realised this? But amongst the low mumbling, loud, insane laughter and nightmarish screeches, Ghaurion heard another voice. A different voice, coming from the mortal realm, from the communications radio. And although it seemed distant, he heard every word. 
“Ghaurion...? Doom-drinker, is that you?”


----------



## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

This reminds me of a large joke list I saw a while back, that included that but I'll try to leave that out. This will take a lot of posts....




How many Space Wolves does it tak to screw in a lightbulb?
A full chapter, one to hold the lightbuld, and 999 to turn the battle barge.



-What do you call a lasgun with a laser sight? Twin Linked.



The Imperial Guard doesn't need cover, they ARE cover!



"a simpe 3 lettre wurd. beer" - Thor Thundercaller



The Top Ten List why DA are cooler then IF:

The Top Ten List: Dark Angels VS. Imperial Fists

Reason #10
Dark Angels wear nifty GREEN armor; Imperial Fists wear YELLOW - 'nuff said!

Reason #9
Unlike Primarch Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fists, Dark Angel Primarch Lion el'Jonson never had his ass kicked by Primarch Perturabo of Iron Warriors.

Reason #8
Unlike Primarch Rogal Dorn of Imperial Fists, Dark Angel Primarch Lion el'Jonson never had his ass kicked by Primarch Night Haunter of Night Lords (do we see a trend here?).

Reason #7
When the Emperor had to have one of his Legions stay behind and guard Earth while the others traveled the Galaxy gaining fame and glory, Rogal Dorn jumped up and down shouting "Pick Me, Pick Me?I'll do it?"

Reason #6
Never had to have ass saved by Ultramarines, unlike the Imperial Fists after being pinned down for months by the Iron Warriors.

Reason #5
Dark Angels have the greatest victory record of all the Emperor's Legions. Imperial Fists are 0-1-1 (no recorded victories, lost to Iron Warriors and they like to call the defense of Earth a "Draw").

Reason #4
Lion el'Jonson fought Leman Russ toe-to-toe for a day with neither Primarch besting the other. Rogal Dorn would have used the famous "Play Dead and Run Away" tactic.

Reason #3
Dark Angels have lots of nifty special items like the Sword of Secrets; what were the Imperial Fists things again?can't seem to remember?

Reason #2
Dark Angels would have NEVER screwed up the defense of Earth and got everyone killed. And where exactly was Rogal Dorn when everyone else attacked Horus?.

And?.

Reason #1
Did I mention the YELLOW armor?



TOP TEN USES FOR SQUAD BANNERS

#10, MARCHING: When marching into the sun the first three men in column behind the sergeant are well shaded...

#9, OUT NUMBERED: When outnumbered you can give every man a banner. Space them 25' apart and march them in the open (as far from the enemy as possible) while kicking up a lot of dust. Your company will look like an entire Chapter... 

#8, DICIPLINE: Warn unruly young Marines that if they don't straigten up you will make them wear the "Combat Magnet" in battle for a day.

#7, RECRUITING: You can attach a basketball hoop to the pole when recruiting in inner-city areas. Or, detach the pole and rig it for bass-fishing when recruiting in rural areas...

#6, TRENCH COMBAT: When defending a trenchline you can place the company standard in the center of your trench with squad banners spaced 25' apart on either side. When the enemy takes position faceing your "company", hit them in the flanks from the woods...

#5, DESERT COMBAT: Stick banner poles in the sand.. 25' apart... Then hide. When the enemy discovers this, first they will assume your company is wiped out. Then they will march an extra day to go around the quick-sand.

#4, ARCTIC COMBAT: Same as Desert Combat except the enemy will march an extra day to go around the frozen lake.

#3, URBAN COMBAT: Place banners on extra long poles. While the enemy is shooting holes in the walls just below the 3rd floor window... shoot them from the first floor window.

#2 R&R: At all Imperial amusment parks Sergeant's may count the banner pole when they get to the "You must be this tall to ride" sign before each ride...

AND THE #1 USE FOR SQUAD BANNERS IS....
Arguing over who has the longest "Banner Pole" at the NCO's club.



My space marine joke..... THE SPACE WOLVES!!



CSM:Knock, knock

SM:Who's there?

CSM:Boo

SM:Boo who?

CSM:STOP CRYING YOU LACKY OF THE GOLDEN THRONE!!!!!!!HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!



What's better than being upgraded from a warlock to a farseer?

Not being an Eldar!



What's worse than being blamed of being on the other side of the galaxy when everyone else on your side is dying?

Being an Ultramarine!!!



A Slaneesh demonnette (sp?) was found, half dead, by a platoon of imperial guard, who screamed "foul abomination" and walked along by....

Next, a sister of battle came past, screamed "foul abomination", cast some protective runes on herself, and walked along by......

Next, a space marine came past, put a bullet in it's leg, and left it there to die a sorrowful death....

Next, an ancient and wise Eldar came along....

5 minutes later, he walked out of the bush, muttering under his breath "they don't make them like they used to......"



The Orks are entrenched in fortificatrions on a battlefield when they here some shouting from the enemy trenches. 

"One Space Marine is worth 10 Orks" So the orks cant let their 'good' name be slandered so the Boss sends ten orks to run to the enemy trench shouting "ere we go". After a couple of minutes the orks here a voice shout " One Space Marine is worth 50 orks". So the Boss sends fifty orks charging towards the enemy trenches. Ten minutes later a voice shouts " One Space marine is worth 100 Orks". So 100 orks charge into the enemy trench on the Boss's orders. 15 minutes later a solitary ork returns and reports to the Boss that " They cheated boss, there was two of um!".



A Dark Angel, Blood Angel, and Space Wolf all walk into a bar. Each
one of them orders a drink. The bartender brings them four beers. The Dark Angel looks at his beer and realizes there's a fly in it. He begins to moan about how he is being punished by the Emperor and leaves the bar in shame, pulling his monk's robe around him tighter. Just then the Blood Angel looks down at his tankard.

"What's this?!" he shouts, "There's a fly in my beer?!?!"

He then proceeds to destroy half the bar in bloodthirsty rage (and ruins any chances of getting with the Sisters at table 3).

Finally the Space Wolf looks down at his beer and notices there's a fly in
his beer too! He magnifies the reception on his bionic eye he sees the little Tyranid wannabe taking a sip of his pint.

"Oh, no you don't laddie!" he growls as he grabs the tiny insect. "Spit
it out, spit it out!!!"



"ATANK ATANK ATANK! ATANK ATANK ATANK!"



how many Slanneshi Cultists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Well, two, of course, but don't ask me how they got in there.



Battlecry of followers of Khorne: Blood for the Blood God!
Battlecry of followers of Slaneesh: Porn for the Porn God! 



What do you call it when two Space Wolves are playing catch with a live krak gernade on a three second timer?

A good outcome either way!


----------



## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

Dark Angels at the movies. 

(Movie theater. Various normal people sitting around, waiting for the
movie to begin. Doors open, and Azrael, Ezekiel and Asmodai of the
Dark Angels enter. They make their way to an empty row)
AZRAEL- Brothers, come! We shall sit here, in a row that is free of heretics and accursed alien filth!
EZEKIEL- Thou art correct, Brother. I sense no tainted mind of Chaos within this row!
ASMODAI- Come Brothers! Let us be seated!
(They all sit down. Their massive power-armoured forms block the view
of seven people behind them)
AZRAEL- Alas!
ASMODAI- Brother, what is thy concern?
AZRAEL- In our foolish rush, we have forgotten to purchase
refreshments!
ASMODAI- Dost thou wish to repent and seek forgiveness, Brother
Azrael?
EZEKIEL- Come Brothers, calm thyselves! There is still time!
AZRAEL- I shall take a squad of Marines to the refreshment area,
where we will purchase food and drink, which we shall consume for the
duration of this motion picture!
ASMODAI- Wait Brother! We still require local currency!
AZRAEL- Blessed be thy quick mind Asmodai! I shall empty my pockets
for local currency!
(Azrael empties his robe pockets)
AZRAEL- Emperor's blood... I have only enough to purchase strong
monkish ale for but one of us!
EZEKIEL- Fear not Brother, for we too shall empty our pockets!
(They all empty their pockets)
ASMODAI- Praise be Him on Terra! We have enough of this crude local
currency to purchase strong monkish ale for us all!
EZEKIEL- But wait! What about nourishment?
AZRAEL- Aye, in the form of heavily salted popped corn!
ASMODAI- We have not enough to purchase such decandant luxuries!
AZRAEL- Thou art correct Asmodai. But enough idle prattle! I go now
to purchase strong monkish ale!
(Azrael stands up, but begins to struggle)
EZEKIEL- Brother Azrael, what is wrong?
AZRAEL- Uuurgh... c-can't move... feet stuck... to f-floor! Urgh!
ASMODAI- Alas, he is being held by arcane and blasphemeous Chaos
sorcery!
AZRAEL- Some sort of... urrgh... strange adhesive... coating m-my
armour! Aaargh!
EZEKIEL- Brother, arm thyself! We must free our beloved Chapter
Master from this foul embrace of Chaos!
(Ezekiel and Asmodai arm their bolters. Azrael suddenly breaks free
on the chewing gum that had stuck to the soles of his boots)
AZRAEL- Hold thy fire Brothers! I have broken free!
ASMODAI- Truly our Chapter Master is blessed by the Lion and the
Emperor of Terra, may His light never die!
AZRAEL- We shall have time to rejoice later Brother, for I still
must...
EZEKIEL- Brother Azrael! The motion picture has started!
AZRAEL- Curses! Then I must make haste, immediately! Our parched
gullets depend on my swiftness!
ASMODAI- Then hurry Brother! With all haste! Emperor be with you!
AZRAEL- Many thanks Brother! I go now... TO PURCHASE STRONG MONKISH
ALE!
ALL- UNTIL THE SWORD IS REFORGED!!!
(People in the back row begin to throw popcorn at them)
EZEKIEL- Brothers, take cover! We are under fire!
ASMODAI- Arm thyselves! Prepare to return fire! We shall cleanse
their souls with righteous bolter fire!
AZRAEL- Die heretic filth!!!
(They open fire and massacre the people in the back row. In the row
in front of them, CYPHER and LUTHER)
LUTHER- (points back over shoulder) See? THAT'S why I turned to Chaos...
CYPHER- My sentiments exactly... (turns to face the three Dark
Angels) WILL YOU THREE SHUT UP!!!
AZRAEL, EZEKIEL AND ASMODAI- Emperor's bones! Cypher, the Fallen One!
REPENT, FOR TOMORROW YOU...
CYPHER- yeah, yeah, blah blah blah...
(A WATCHER pops up from nowhere, steals Cypher's popcorn and runs off)
CYPHER- Why you little-!
(WATCHER giggles sadistically and runs out of the cinema)
CYPHER- Curse you, you damn Jawa-wannabe!!!
(CYPHER pulls out plasma pistol and bolt pistol and sprays fire
around randomly, slaughtering people)
LUTHER- Cypher, jeez, it's just popcorn, and besides, the damn things
are invulnerable...
CYPHER- Raaaaaaargh!!!
(Azrael whips out combi-plasma and places it point-blank to Cypher's
forehead)
AZRAEL- Die, Fallen One!
CYPHER- You do realise I'll only truly die if the divine power that
protects me rolls three ones...
(Azrael fires. Cypher is blown apart. Luther looks on, amused)
LUTHER- Well, whaddya know? Guess Cypher wasn't so lucky after all...
(Ezekiel and Asmodai pull out force sword and crozius respectively
and loom over Luther)
EZEKIEL AND ASMODAI- REPENT, TRAITOR!!! FOR TOMORROW YOU DIE!!!
LUTHER- ... Wait a minute.
AZRAEL, ASMODAI AND EZEKIEL- WHAT IS IT, FOUL ONE SPEAK SWIFTLY, FOR
YOUR TIME IS...
LUTHER- Shut it. I was wondering, about that "Repent for tomorrow you
die" thing...
AZRAEL- It is our sacred battlecry!
LUTHER- Yes, but technically, if you are to adhere to your battlecry,
you should come back tomorrow and kill me tomorrow, which is kinda
silly really, since you've just sort of warned me and given me some
sort of advantage, as I can stay out your way tomorrow.
AZRAEL- Shut up! Shut up!
LUTHER- Furthermore, if you shout that battlecry EVERY TIME you are
about to do battle with someone, doesn't that mean that you can never
kill anyone? I mean, take now for instance. You say, "Repent, for
tomorrow you die", correct? Now, if you do track me down tomorrow,
you would have to shout your battlecry again; "Repent, for tomorrow
you die", so you couldn't attack me then either. And so on and so on
and so on.
EZEKIEL- (downcast) You've just mutilated the battlecry we've been
happily using for ten millennia...
ASMODAI- That's soooo meeeean!!!
LUTHER- And what's up with the dresses!? The old Dark Angels never
wore dresses!
AZRAEL- They are our holy robes...
LUTHER- Damn it, I don't even want to be the Great Fallen One of a
damn transvestite chapter!
I wonder if the Ultramarines could recruit me as some sort of arch-
enemy of old? At least they don't wear dressing gowns into battle!
EZEKIEL- If I can just make a point...
LUTHER- Just get out of my sight. You're scum. I don't even want to
look at you.
ASMODAI- But Sir...
LUTHER- SPEAK WHEN YOU'RE SPOKEN TO, MONK BOY!!! Now, get out.
(Azrael, Asmodai and Ezekiel shuffle out of the cinema. Luther
settles back in his seat and rests his feet on a Watcher in the Dark)
LUTHER- Thank Chaos for that.
TWO WEEKS LATER, THE EMPEROR'S THRONEROOM...
ADEPTUS CUSTODES- Lord God Imperator?
THE BIG GUY- Yeeeeeeeesss...?
ADEPTUS CUSTODES- (hands the Throne Geezer a piece of paper) The Dark
Angels wish to hand in their letter of resignation...
THE BIG GUY- WTF!!?
ADEPTUS CUSTODES- Apparently they've had rather a strict talking-to 
and they've just had enough of being bullied really. They want to
quit.
THE BIG GUY- BY MY GOLDEN TOILET, THEY CANNOT SIMPLY QUIT!!!
ADEPTUS CUSTODES- Oh, they did kill Cypher though...
THE BIG GUY- Ah well, guess no rebirth for me... and I really wanted
to be the Star Child too...

THE END



Q: how many AM tech magi does it take to screw in a light bulb?

A: three, one to hold the ladder, one to change the bulb, and one to swing the incense.



Why are the UM's called Smurfs? Why are Ba called swiss cheese? Why are space wolfs called mad drunken raving mindless... ahem, yes 



An inquisitor walks into a bar.

++POST TERMINATED BY AUTHORITY OF THE INQUISITION++



What's the difference between 10 dead guardsmen and a Leman Russ?

I don't have a Leman Russ in my garage...



How do you get mashed guardsman out of a bowl?

With chips... 



How many guarsdmen does it take to paint a Leman Russ?

It depends on how hard you throw them...



How do you make a dead guardsman float?

With two scoops of ice cream 



How many dead guardsmen does it take to screw in a light bulb?

It depends on how much metal you stuck through them.



Brother Scout Frederick walks into a bar on Ventarus III, which is mounted at the top of a hive spire. He sees venerable Assault Brother Jentaro sitting at the bar and takes a seat.

"So, what do you carry in that big backpack, Brother Jentaro?"

"Oh, nothing. Know what's really cool about this bar?"

"No..."

"If you jump out that window, you come straight back up."

"Prove it!"

"Fine."

Brother Jentaro jumps out the window, engages his jumppack, and flies in through the window.

"Wow, cool!"

f00lish Brother Scout Frederick jumps out the window and gets splattered all over the ground. The bartender says:

"Wow sir, you're one mean @$$ when you're drunk."

"Yeah well, this is some good fenrisian ale."



Chaplain Dedicus and Captain Insubordin go golfing on Ordus Prime. On the first hole, the chaplain shoots and does pretty well, getting just above par. The captain though, shoots way too hard, and blasts the ball all the way across the course, going right through a guardsman.

"Emperor's damnation, I missed!"

"You musn't say the Emperor's name in vain, for He shall strike you down!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

So they go to the next hole, and the chaplain shoots and does great, getting a hole in one. The captain again shoots way too hard and blows a hole through a passing rhino.

"Emperor's damnnation, I missed!"

"I told you, you musn't say the Emperor's name in vain, for He shall strike you down!"

"OK ok!"

This goes on for the entire course until the last hole. The chaplain gets par, and the captain again fails, shooting the ball off three trees and hitting his forehead.

"Emperor's damnation, I missed!"

"You shouldn't have said that! He shall strike you down!"

All of a sudden, a huge white light appears, and the chaplain is obliterated. All over Ordus Prime, every living being hears the same words in their head:

"EMPEROR'S DAMNATION, I MISSED." 



What is better than winning the gold medal in the servitor olympics?

Not being a servitor 



Uncle Bob, the Space Marine

The Scholar Abbot in the Schola Progenium gave his fifth grade class an assignment: tell a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories.

Corvius said, "My father was a farmer on Acheron VII and we had a lot of egg-laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the coach when we hit a bump in the road and the eggs went flying and broke and made a mess."

"And what's the moral of the story?" asked the Scholar Abbot.

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket!"

"Very good," said the teacher. "Now, Jorun. Tell us your story." 

"MY family where farmers too. But we raised grox' for the meat market. We had a dozen grox.eggs one time, but when they hatched we only got ten live grox. And the moral to this story is, don't count your grox before they're hatched."

"That's a fine story Jorun," he continued. "Johnny, do you have a story to share?"

"Yes sir, my daddy told me this story about my Uncle, Veteran Sargent Bob. Uncle Bob was a Space Marine in the 3rd War for Armageddon and his Thunderhawk got hit. He had to crash land in hostile ork territory and all he had was a bottle of fenrisian ale, a bolter and a chainsword. He drank the fenrisian ale on the way down so it wouldn't break and then he landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops. He killed seventy with the bolter until he ran out of bullets, then he killed twenty more with with the chainsword till the blade broke and then kill the last ten with his bare hands."

"Emperor's Throne," said the Scholar Abbot, "What kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?"

"Don't piss off Uncle Bob when he's been drinking."






The (quite many) commandments of a loyal Space Marine

1. Thou shalt not refer to the Adeptus Soritas as "Bolter Bitches," nor shalt thou go anywhere near our sisters during the time of their "Red Rage," lest thou wishes to be the first human to enter orbit without the aid of a shuttle.
2. Thou shalt not comment on the odd shape of the Inquisitor's head.
3. Thou shalt not do "wheelies" or "donuts" on you bike.
4. Thou shalt not have a "kegger" on the eve of battle, thus making yourselves less effective on the morn.
5. Thou shalt not refer to the Almighty Emperor as "The Righteous Dead Dude."
6. Orks are not "cute!"
7. Thou shalt not make jokes about the Imperial Guard's weapons.
8. Thou shalt not refer to the Rhino transports as "pimp wagons," nor shalt thou use the phrase, "If the Rhino be rockin, don't come a knockin."
9. The Chapter Master is not a "drag".
10. Thou shalt not check to see if your bolt pistol is loaded by looking down the barrel! 
11. Thou shalt not go on panty raids into Sister Of Battle monasteries.
12. Thou shalt not use thy scope for anything outside of battle. Anyone caught using them to spy out life mates shalt lose privileges.
13. Do not sell thy extra organs on the Black Market.
14. Though it is entertaining, thou shalt not wave a fly swatter near the Tyranid fleets.
15. Thou shalt not use thine chainsword as a backscratcher.
16. Thou shalt not use thine pistol as a q-tip.
17. Thou shalt not attempt to imitate heathen noise marines with "heavy metal" or "death metal" through thine com-speakers.
18. Although tempting, do not attempt to give a Tau a "high-five”.
19. Thou shalt not laugh at how small IG men are.
20. Thou shalt not bend to the will of nerds playing war games, and act upon your own free will.
21. Thou shalt not tap the glass on the Dreadnought.
22. Thou shalt not feed the Orks.
23. Thou shalt not transmit images of unclothed Sisters through the Astropaths.
24. Thou shalt not advertise on thine armour.
25. Thou shalt not wave fake skulls at the Berserkers.
26. Thou shalt not wave a red flag near a Chaos Dreadnought.
27. Thou shalt not tape pictures to your armour.
28. Thou shalt not release spiders inside the dreadnought.
29. Thou shalt not use they bolter to kill bees.
30. Thou shalt not sniff warp fumes.
31. Thou shalt eat thou rations.
32. Thou shalt not steal thy commander’s dinner.
33. Thou shalt not take the Predator for a walk.
34. Thou shalt not use the land raider to pick up chicks.
35. Thou shalt beware of strange noise in back of thy land raider.
36. Thou shalt guard thy bolter when camping with Imperial Guard.
37. Thou shalt not use bug bomb against the nids.
38. Thou shalt not play Internet games with Tzeentch.
39. Thou shalt not e-mail the emperor.
40. Thou shalt not e-mail the Emperor spam.
41. Thou should beware of thy Lictor behind cardboard bushes.
42. Terminators and glue do not mix.
43. Thou shalt not spray paint armour to make it look cool.
44. Thou shalt not have water gun fights with lasguns. (the guard needs them)
45. Thou shalt not juggle power weapons.
46. Thou shalt not hide video links in the Sisters of Battle's monastery.
47. Grenades are not water balloons.
48. Thou shalt not use insect repellent against Tyranids.
49. Thou shalt not use waterguns against Necron.
50. Thou shalt not piss on the Iron Halo.
51. Daemons are not your friends.
52. Barney the Dinosaur is not your friend.
53. Barney is a heretic.
54. Barney merchandise are simply prohibited.
55. Barney is not a Tyranid
56. Digimon are not in the 40K universe. Really.
57. Digimon are not affiliated with the Necron.
58. Pokemon are not Digimon!
59. Pokemon are not fun to play with.
60. Thou shalt not steal candy from babies/orks/gretchin/Commissars.
61. Don’t play “Truth or Dare” with Sisters.
62. Don’t play “Spin the Bottle” with Sisters.
63. Don’t play “Hangman” with the Inquisitor or Berserker.
64. Thou shalt ignore strange voices in your head.
65. Thou shalt not put a cork in the Inquisitors pistol.
66. Thou shalt not use the Lasgun as a flashlight.
67. Thou shalt not hide the Land Raider in a lake.
68. The Land Raider is not a hotel room!
69. Spiking the beer is forbidden.
70. Shotguns are not practice guns.
71. Lasguns don’t make cool disco lights for your party.
72. Pixie wings are not jump packs.
73. Thou shalt no replace the Librarians staff with a "Magician’s Wand”
74. Thy shalt not tip the Terminators over during battle.
75. Thou shalt not attempt to kill Tyranids with Mortein.
76. Thou shalt not do it to @#%$.
77. Thou shalt not do it to Nurgle (who would?)
78. Thou shalt not refer to Lasguns as torches.
79. Guard will not be referred to as 'spotlighters'
80. ‘Murder in the dark’ is prohibited when Chaos forces are captured.
81. Thou shalt not make fun of Chaos’ rusty Power Armour. (We need someone decent to fight with)
82. Thou shalt not do Spock impersonations around Eldar.
83. Don’t give ‘Fairy wings to Eldar’
84. Thou shalt not make liposuction jokes around Eldar.
85. Thou shalt not return books late.
86. Thou shalt not trade thine bike for a skateboard.
87. Thou shalt not ignore the Chaplain as he recites the tales of Spot the Dog.
88. Putting corks into the engines of a Landspeeder is not funny.
89. C-3P0 is not a Necron ambassador.
90. Darth Vader isn’t the son of Abaddon.
91. Thou shalt not stay awake after “lights out” unless expressly ordered.
92. Thou shalt not use the sentinel Powerlifter as a babe-magnet for the sisters.
93. If thou lose thine hand you shalt not nab one of the Imperial Guard.
94. Thou shalt not waterfight with civilians.
95. “It makes a funny noise” is not an excuse for punching Imperial Guardsmen.
96. “He started it” is not an excuse for punching Imperial Guardsmen.
97. Thou shalt not get a Sister intoxicated for thy own pleasures.
98. Thou shalt not play monster with Orks.
99. Thou shalt not taunt a Dreadnaught within reach of his foot by calling him "The Tin Man" from “Wizard of Oz”.
100. Thou shalt not sexually harass the servitors even if they won’t notice.
101. Thou shalt not have an ice cream Superfantasical Day.
102. Thou's name is not GiX.
103. Thou shalt not smoke/inhale/inject illegal pharmaceuticals into thy holy body even though your advanced physiological structure could probably withstand the effects.
104. Thou shalt not put "Ecstasy" in the punch when Battle Sisters arrive for a formal meeting with the Chapter's Authorities.
105. Thou shalt not practise vampiric tendencies despite your urge to do so.
106. Thou shalt not howl when the Chapter Master bends over. (Full Moon Out Tonight!)
107. You shalt not dare others to eat that squiggly thing.
108. You shalt not comment on being a better shot then the inquisitor.
109. The chaplain is not too preachy.
110. Gambling for grots is not allowed.
111. Your sergeant is not a pugy #######.
112. You shalt not smack the sister’s butt and then wink at her.
113. The lab research Tyranids are not for emergency rations.
114. Thou shalt not take the emperor titan for a spin.
115. Thou shalt not use a flamer to cook a whole cow and leave none for the others.
116. Thou shalt not set fly strips outside your tent in a Tyranid war zone.
117. Thou shalt not wear Lord Commander Dante's Death Mask (or any Death Masks at all for that matter) on Halloween, any other masquerade parties or for fun, when not in battle!
118. Thou shalt not try to see how much a Death Company marine can take (physical and/or psychical)!
119. Thou shalt not put "tags" on the Holy Shrouds and/or Banners or write on it in anyway at all.
120. Rico’s Roughnecks are not real.
121. Thou shalt not over-charge thou bike!
122. Thou shalt not use the over-charged engines for "drag-racing"!
123. Thou shalt not have a Blood-party (as in tea-party) with Mephiston during battle!
124. Thou shalt not play "no blinking" with Mephiston!
125. Thou shalt not give Tycho an Ork for his Birthday (or any day at all for that matter, or speak him about Orks).
126. Thou shalt not release Morriar from his restrainment or tap in his vital liquids!
127. Thou shalt not ask the Sanguinary Priest for something to drink!
128. Thou shalt obey these 10 commandments! (Isn't it hard counting when being a scout?)
129. Thou shalt not use thy Jump Packs to "fry your diner"!
130. Thou shalt not use thy Jump Packs to get “KFC” or “Macca’s”.
131. Thou shalt not kill each other because "thou are the real Sanguinous".
132. Thou shalt not make wounds to resemble the wounds of thou mighty Primarch...the Chaplain paint these on your armour!
133. Thou shalt not "make bunny-ears" with thy fingers behind the Chaplain whilst he gives battle-orders.
134. Thou shalt not indulge in squig eating contests.
135. Thou shalt not fake death in order to get blood from the Sanguinary Priests.
136. Thou shalt keep thou armour on, although thou might think thou are invincible, thou DO need thou armour!
137. Thou shalt not fall asleep whilst the Chaplain is in prayer.
138. Thou shalt not use thy weapons upon thyself, thou still can get hurt.
139. Thou shalt not jump out in front of the Rhino to get into the fight whilst still in motion...wait for orders to disembark!
140. Thou shalt look both ways before crossing the street.
141. Thou shalt not try to "steal" assaults away from battle-brothers....they are allowed some fun too!
142. Thou shalt not use thy multi-meltas to light campfires. (In a similar manner, thou shalt not use the Terminator Captain's chainfist to open tins of baked beans)
143. Thou shalt not make jokes about the Tyranid's mighty One-Eyed monster (eye, pirate matey... guk!).
144. Thou shalt not mistake the Harlequin's Kiss for some fruity clown prank.
145. Thou shalt not light cigarettes near the Hellhounds.
146. Thou shalt not bribe the Inquisitor to bring down Exterminatus on your ex-wife.
147. Genestealers ARE NOT trying to rob you of your denim trousers.
148. Thou shalt not chase thy Gretchen with a fork.
149. Thou shalt not call the firearms of the Imperial Guard “Sega Lock-Ons”.
150. Thou shalt not call the Adeptus Arbites “pigs” or “the filth”. 
151. Thou shalt not place buckets of water over the Inquisitors door.
152. Inquisitors are not “Nigel no friends”
153. Thou shalt not use thou's laser sight to blind Imperial Guard.
154. Thou shalt not remove the Imperial Guards power packs from their Lasguns while they are asleep.
155. Thou shalt not play “frisbee” with a Tau Shield Drone.
156. Remember a Primach is for life not for Christmas.
157. Thou shalt not eat toast in your power armour ( I'm not going to hoover the crumbs out of the toes again).
158. Thou shalt not put fridge magnets on thy power armour (Even if you have been to Cornwall).
159. Thou shalt not tune into FM rock on your intercom.
160. Thou shalt not put bananas in the commander's rhino's exhaust pipes.
161. Thou shalt not hang "Pine Fresh" on Moriar (even if he is a bit ripe by now!)
162. Scented Pine Trees hanging off Rear Vision mirrors in favour of the Dice, is now prohibited.
163. Thou shalt not offer to clean the sister's armour whilst they change.
164. Thou shalt not use Power weapons or Chain-weapons to cut your food.
165. Thou shalt remove the batteries from weapons to put in your RC toys.
166. Thou shalt not swap the salt and pepper.
167. Thou shalt not play "I see, I see what you don't see" over the intercom during battles!
168. Thou shalt not "go out to get cigarettes" during prayers!
167. Thou shalt not make remarks about the physical appearance of Sisters.
168. Thou shalt not swap your battle-brothers gun with a waterpistol.
169. Thou shalt not participate in any intoxication (i.e. alcohol) contests with Imperial Guards.
170. Thou shalt not ask a Sister if her armour isn't too small.
171. Thou shalt not ask a Sister about her age.
172. “No” means “No”.
173. Thou shalt not ask a Sister if you might donate some of your own Gene-seed.
174. Thou shalt not make cat-sounds when Sisters argue.
175. Thou shalt refer to Sister Supreme as 'Mistress'.
176. Thou shalt not refer to Ork Dreadnoughts as 'garbage bins'.
177. Thou shalt not make funny noises during a speech/prayer.
178. Thou shalt not "play shooting range" with Gretchen’s.
179. Thou shalt not brag about how many you've killed with a Dark Eldar.
180. Thou shalt not write or "put tags" on vehicles and/or armour.
181. Thou shalt not use Servitors to catch your paper.
182. Thou shalt not play "fetch" with Tyranids using grenades.
183. Thou shalt not yell “catfight!” when Sisters argue.
184. Thou shalt not press the buttons in a demolisher tank.
185. Thou shalt not hum cartoon theme songs when around the Tau (like Smurfs)
186. Thou shalt not refuse the Sisters your chocolate rations, especially during the time of their "Red rage".
187. Thou shalt never refer to the size of a Sisters rear armour.
188. Thou shalt always offer to rub a Sisters feet after battle. I need not explain why.
189. Thou shalt always carry thine universal remote control when facing necrons.
190. Thou shalt never offer to sell your soul to the Dark Eldar for beer money. Not even in jest.
191. Thou shalt never ask a Daemonette for some "handiwork", else though will have to join the Sisters. 
192. Thou shalt not remind your commander how many times he has been slain by the badly coloured Tyranid.
193. Thou shalt leave the plasma gun well and truly alone.
194. Thou shalt not play Russian roulette with automatic weapons. It doesn't work (or it does too well, actually).
195. Thou shalt not shave the Space Wolves while they are asleep .
196. Thou shalt not load the dice.
197. Thou shalt not move that extra little inch in movement phase.
198. Thou shalt not fire thy bolter at enemies you can't really see but at a leg sticking out of a building.
199. Thou shalt follow thy rulebook.
200. Thou shalt not make up rules.
201. Thou are not fearless... thou art fearless... ugh anyone got a codex?
202. Thou shalt not laugh at the cultist.
203. Thou shalt beware of bird poo when greater daemon of Tzeentch is around.
204. Thou shalt not throw soap at Nurglings.
205. Thou shalt not use penicilan tipped bolts in your boltgun against Nurglings.
206. Thou shalt not waste thy 15 minutes free time trying to get laid.
207. Thou shalt beware of possesed 2 liter coke bottles.
208. Thou shalt not stare at feet during the battle march.
209. Thou shalt not aim at thy commanders back.
210. Thou shalt watch thy foot steps.
211. Beware of the drunken Leman Russ.
212. Thou shalt not binge drink with the Imperial Guard.
213. Thou shalt not challenge a Daemon Prince to a fist fight.
214. Thou art not unexpendable.
215. Thou shalt look before thou leaps.
216. Thou shalt not bring your sack lunch to battle.
217. Thou shalt not use they bike as a battering ram.
218. Thou shalt beware of potholes and speedbumps.
219. Lord Login is not "Wolfie".
220. Seraphims do not want to join the "Mile High Club".
221. Spiky bits are not meant for hanging laundry on.
222. Ultra scout is not "little boy blue".
223. Never refer to the Cannoness as "big momma".
224. Thou shalt not put “kick me” signs on thou brothers backs.
225. Thou shalt not nail nurglings to the back of the rhino as fuzzy decorations.
226. Thou shalt not put itching powder in a Dreadnought.
227. Thou shalt not wink suggestively at Daemonettes.
228. Thou shalt not use can openers on Ork Dreadnoughts.
229. Thou shalt not replace the commissars' comm-link with a plasma grenade for a laugh.
230. Thou shalt not refer to Armoured companies as agorophobes.
231. Thou shalt not ask techmarines to put mag wheels on your bike.
232. Thou shalt not use a looted Terrorfex for Halloween.
233. Thou shalt not sneak into the rock while the Dark angels are asleep and discover that their secret is that all the high ranking angels wear dresses. Er... oops...
234. Thou shalt not invite babes back to the monastery.
235. Thou shalt not spike drinks with Sanguinius’ blood.
236. Thou shalt not step on Guardsmen and then say that you didn't see them.
237. Thou shalt not refer to Paul Sawyer as "The Great Unclean One".
238. Thou shalt not call a Dark Angel "Jessica Alba".
239. Thou shalt not give a Sister of Battle breast implants.
230. Neither shalt thou ask wether those “guns” are real or not.
231. Thou shalt never say anything about the Squats.
232. Thou shalt not overheat a plasmagun for a college prank.
233. Thou shalt not give the Death Company caffine.
234. Thou shalt not insult a Thousand Son about his penis.
235. Thou shalt not taunt a Space Wolf with a piece of steak.
236. Thou shalt not put a "kick me" sign on the Golden Throne.
237. Thou shalt not poop thy power armor.
238. Thou shalt not make mention of the irony that a Grot blaster is a Lasgun, only the Orks admit it is crappy.
239. Thou shalt not overclock thine pentium and use it as a plasma weapon.
240. Thou shalt not intentionally overheat a plasma weapon and give it to an IG. (Hey thanks mate!... What’s that bleeping sound?... SPLAT)
241. Thou shalt not trip over Tau.
242. Thou shalt not attempt to steal a Tau's weapon "to give to the poor Guardsmen".
243. Thou shalt not moon the Tau in combat. They are good shots.
244. Thou shalt not invoke the wraith of conures. If you are foolish enough to do so, a conure the size of two to four titans shalt decend upon the table and inflict his wraith.
245. Thou shalt not attempt to borrow Tau stealth suits so that you might spy on the sisters in their quarters.
246. Thou shalt not attempt to rebuild a Necron as a washing machine.
247. Thou shalt not laugh at the poorly painted armies. (Haha look at that purple Tau!... Guk!)
248. Thou shalt not play “fetch” with a Kroot flesh-hound using a guardsman. 
249. Thou shalt not go big game fishing for Manta Missile Destroyers.
250. Thou shalt not try to change the batteries on a Scarab.
251. Thou shalt not use the Blades of Reason to trim thy fingernails.
252. Thou shalt not feed the warp beasts.
253. Thou shalt not pet the Kroot hounds.
254. Thou shalt not ask the Sisters whether it's dyed or real.
255. Thou shalt not call Old One Eye "Surf and Turf".
256. Thou shalt not moonlight as a security guard if thine armour is red.
257. Thou shalt not use the Hellhound to cook thy rations.
258. Thou shalt not use thy power armours’ vid-link to prank call the Imperial Guard storm troopers.
259. Thou shalt not sneak up on thy commanding officer, and yell "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD" in his ear.
260. Thy bolter is not to be used to shoot cans off walls.
261. Thou shalt not steal the Land Speeder to "pick up Sisters".
262. The Leman Russ is not a kettle. Do not attempt to use it to make tea. Nor coffee.
263. Thou shalt not attempt to empty your waste-paper basket into an Ork Dreadnought.
264. Thou shalt not refer to the Rhino as a "Clown Car", althought thy might think it is.
265. When throwing they holiest of His grenades always count to three, yes three, not one, for it is not the holiest of numbers, or two, for the holiness of two pales in comparison, but three, yes three, not one or two, unless thou shalt be proceeding to three.
266. Thou shalt not refer to the Machine Spirit as "Cruise Control".
267. Thou shalt not use blind grenades to sneak into the Sister's encampment.
268. Thou shalt not mention the name "Buffy" when near the Blood Angels.
269. Thou shalt not use Necron Scarabs as "Boogie Boards".
270. Thou shalt not call Harlequins “psychadelic” nor “groovy”
271. Thou Shalt never show an army of orks more than two Harlequins at once.
272. Thou shalt never laugh at the laughing god.
273. Thou shalt never play “Hide and Seek” with Librarians or Inquisitors.
274. Thou shalt not play “tag” with Gaunts.
275. Thou shalt never tie power armour laces together.
276. Thou shalt never say "Resistance is futile" to the Adeptus Mechanicus.
277. Thou shalt never criticize the “paper boys” in the Adeptus Administratum.
278. Thou shalt not sell chapter property (e.g. battlebarge, fortress monestary) on eBay.
279. Thou shalt not put a cork in thine battle brothers waste disposal outlet tube (WDOT).
280. Thou shoult not "entertain" The Adeptus Sororitas in your billet.
281. Thou shalt not refer to Imperial Guardsmen as "Cannon fodder".
282. The Imperial Guard Colonel did not visit a fancy-dress shop.
283. The lasgun is not to be used to carve your name into the Land Raider's/ Predator's/ Rhino's/ Razorbacks/ Leman Russ's/ Titan's armour plating. (It won’t work anyway)
284. Thou shalt not lend Imperial Guardsmen your power armour or swap places for a day with Guardsmen.
285. Thou shalt not try to perform brain surgery wearing power armour.
286. Thou shalt not assume that because you can take a bolter hit in the head, the Guardsman over there can too.
287. Thou shalt not use Tau shoulder pads as padding in games of cricket.
288. Thou shalt not hide the keys to the battle barge.
289. Thou shalt not call Ork Dreadnoughts/Killer Kans "R2-D2's big brother".
290. Thou shalt not threaten thy enemy with a "plasma enema" and thou shalt not carry out the act.
291. Thou shalt not flirt with the Banshee. They are the enemy.
292. Thou can not date a Dark Eldar Wych. They are the enemy too.
292. Thou shalt not steal the Battle Sisters makeup.
293. Thou shalt not try on the Battle Sisters armour to see if it compares to your own.
294. Thou shalt not make fun of Warp Spiders guns.
295. Thou shalt not take the Land Raider for a joy ride.
296. Thou shalt not perform dare devil stunts in the Rhino. Especially if thine bretheren are in the back.
297. Thou shalt not hijack the Battle Sisters Immolator. Especially if there are any Battle Sisters still on board!
298. Thou shalt not add bits to thine armour to try to pass thineself off as a Battle Sister.
299. Thou shalt not try to dance with a Banshee on the field of battle.
300. Thou shalt not throw sticks for the Space Wolves.
301. Thou shalt not play “fetch” with the Space Wolf Commanders “pet” Fenrisson Wolves.
302. Thou shalt not keep a Tyranid as a pet.
303. Thou shalt not challenge a Carnifex to a game of “catch”.
304. Thou can not tie a Wraithlords laces together (they don't have any).
305. Thou shalt not call a Battle Sister “babe”.
306. Thou shalt not be envious of the IG unit who art friends to the Sister Famulous!
307. Thou shalt not steal the Tau pulserifles, even if they are better than bolters.
308. Thou shalt not stick “Honk if you think I'm sexy” on the Sisters Rhino.
309. Thou shalt not honk if thy sees a sticker saying “Honk if you think I'm sexy” on a Sister's Rhino.
310. Thou shalt not ask thy battle sister if they would like to slip into something more comfortable.
311. The hellhound is not somthing you put on a leash and take for "walkies".
312. Thou shalt not armwrestle with Tactical Dreadnoughts.
313. Thou shalt not watch whilst the battle sisters change out of their power armour.
314. Ork Warbosses are not toys, you can not try to pull thier arms off and jump up and down on them.
315. Dont kick Grots.
316. Thou Shalt not slice three toes off each foot of the Tau and see how well they walk.
317. Thou shalt not relieve thy self behind a tree during battle.
318. Thou shalt not go to thy great emporer and make him "perform an illegal operation and be shut down".
319. Thou shalt not wrestle thy battle sisters and try to "pin them down".
320. An Iron Halo is not a toy.
321. A tank is not a toy.
322. A Dreadnought is not a toy.
323. Thou shalt not jump on the back of a Dreadnought in battle and see how long you can stay on.
324. Thou shalt not play toy soldiers with the Guardsmen.
325. The Space Hulk is not a wrestler.
326. Spiky bitz are not 'cool'.
327. Khorne is a Chaos God not a food.
328. Thou shalt not use power claws as scissors. 
329. Thou shalt not use power armour power points to plug in thy gameboy.
330. Thou shalt not use hellions skyboards to impress the sisters.
331. Thou shalt not place a flashing light on top of the rhino so that it is easier to find in the car park.
332. if showing a tau how your boltgun works you will not give it to him the wrong way round.
333. A Necron is not a Mecano kit
334. Nurglings are not over date


----------



## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

------------------------------------------
Blank screen. The sound of a movie projector starting up (whirr, flip flip flip flip). Then, light, revealing the Imperial double- headed eagle, over which a circle has been overlaid. Inside the circle is a six. This then changes to a 5 *blip*...4-*blip*... 3-*blip*...2-*blip*...(screen goes black again...)

Words flash across the screen: "Marine Recruitment Advertisement #34919c"

*beep*

The screen now shows a Space Marine in power armor relaxing in a chair, smiling at the camera. Next to him is a movie player/slide projector on a card table and a small projection screen. The Marine's colors and badges indicate that he is an Ultramarine of the third company. He isn't wearing a helmet, and a power sword is strapped to his side; across his shoulder pad the name "Pluvius" is emblazoned.

"Hi, I'm Brother-Captain Pluvius. You may remember me from such Imperial propaganda as 'Down With Orks!', and 'Here Come the Ultramarines!' Today, I'm here to give you a glimpse of what it's like to be a Space Marine in the forty-first millenium. When I'm done giving you the tour, you can decide for yourself whether the Adeptus Astartes is the place for you.

"First off, what is the Adeptus Astartes? The Adeptus Astartes, or the Space Marines, is the one of the finest fighting forces in the arsenal of the Imperium of Man. We are the mailed fist of the Emperor. Or, if the Imperial Guard is the mailed fist, then we're the finely honed rapier's point. On the other hand, if you consider the elite Legio Ordo Sinister to be a rapier's point, and the Imperial Guard to be a sledgehammer, then we're a scalpel. More specifically, the Adeptus Astartes is composed of roughly a thousand Chapters of about a thousand fighting men, all given the best training that's technically legal, and biologically enhanced to better carry out the Emperor's Will. And that's the Adeptus in a nutshell. So, you ask, how do I sign up?

"To begin with, it would only be fair to say that the life of a Space Marine is not for everyone. First, we don't accept any heretics, including Chaos and Genestealer cultists. Repeat, no heretics. If you are a heretic, you should instead report to your local Inquisition Fortress for mandatory interrogation and subsequent liquidation. Second, we look for the finest warriors in the galaxy, and we recruit them while they're still young. Therefore, you must be eighteen years or younger to be eligible for recruitment. Currently, we are not accepting any females or abhuman scum, but this situation may change soon with the "kinder, gentler Administrata" currently in power. If you meet these criteria, then you may be eligible to be a Space Marine.

"All Marine Chapters are not created equal, and each is suited more for some people than it is for others. Every Chapter has its own unique history and flavor, so whatever your tastes, there's a Chapter for you. Let's take a look at a few noteworthy Chapters now." Pluvius turns on the projector, and grabs the clicker.

The first slide shows a Dark Angel marine, dressed in power armor and robes, standing next to a bone-white Terminator. Pluvius recites, "The first Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes is the Dark Angel Chapter. Known, along with their offshoot chapters, as the Unforgiven, the Dark Angels seek redemption for a sin that perhaps only they still remember."

*click* An Imperial Fist Marine, dressed in gaudy yellow, firing his bolter skywards. "The Imperial Fists, known for their hardiness, were instrumental in the defense of the Imperial Palace in the days of the Horus Heresy."

*click* An Ultramarine Devastator Squad, firing lascannons and heavy bolters in the midst of a cloud of smoke. "I, myself, hail from the Ultramarines. One of the most orthodox Chapters in the galaxy, we adhere as closely as possible to the sagacious writings of the Codex Astartes. Needless to say, we are indisputably one of the most powerful Chapters in existence."

*click* A Flesh Tearer scout, tearing the head off of an Eldar Guardian with his bare hands. "Infamous for their fearsome and bloodthirsty ways, the Flesh Tearers are truly a force to be reckoned with."

*click* A Rainbow Warrior Marine, emptying a skull-bedecked recycling bin. "Not only do the Rainbow Warriors fight with zeal in times of war, but they also patrol the galaxy for ecological damage, and punish wrongdoers with righteous anger."

*click* A jump-pack-equipped White Scar soaring through the air. "Renowned for their lightning raids and blitzkrieg attacks, the White Scars also played an important role in the defense of Terra during the Heresy."

*click* A World Eater, standing atop a plain of skulls, chainsword in one gauntleted fist, a clenched power glove on the other. "Whoops." Pluvius leans forward quickly and grabs the slide out of the projector, immediately popping it in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing it down, he says hurriedly, "Let's just pretend we didn't see that one, shall we?" He frowns at the projector, then shuts it off. Turning back to the camera, he continues:

"Whichever Chapter you choose, you will be rewarded with a plethora of new skills and abilities. Immediately upon entrance, the young recruit will be implanted with the first of many new and improved organs. Assuming he survives the process, more and more organs will be added, and the new Marine will find himself gifted with powers he never dreamed possible, such as eating rocks, enhanced senses, and spitting corrosive venom!" The screen behind Pluvius lights up again, showing several Marines engaged in a spitting contest, saliva burning smoking holes in the pavement.

"Many skills are learned in the tour of duty as well. By the end of his second year, the average Marine can outshoot an Imperial Guardsman, take more punishment than an Imperial Guardsman, and defeat three of them in hand-to-hand combat." The screen in back of Pluvius cuts to the scene from the Angels of Death Codex, where a squad of Blood Angels messily tears through a group of human cultists. Pluvius beams proudly at the show, and chuckles happily as a power-fisted Marine smashes the skull of an unfortunate cultist. Smiling, he continues his pitch.

"As a matter of fact, advanced research shows that, after all the genetic modifications have been made, a Marine in power armor is three times more likely than an Imperial Guardsman to survive a direct hit with a lasgun." The screen cuts to the Mentor Legion research labs, where a Tech-Marine has twelve Marines and twelve Guardsmen lined up by the wall. After he shoots all of them with a lasgun, two Marines fall over, wounded, and six Guardsmen. The Tech-Marine nods and says something to a nearby Servitor, who jots tally marks onto a clipboard.

"After all the paperwork has been filled out and processed, new Marines will also be eligible for special "Rapid Fire" and "Shaken Rules" benefits, yet more perks for being one of humanity's finest.

"Recruits are also guaranteed, free of charge, housing at the Chapter's fortress monastery. In a few, rare, cases, a Chapter might not have a fortress monastery, but instead a starship or orbital station. Nonetheless, there is no shortage of housing, and no Marine goes without bed and board. Yes, food is free, too. While a Marine can eat rocks for sustenance, the normal fare is much more tasty and nutritious." The screen now shows a group of Marines seated in a cafeteria, forks and knives in hand, licking their chops and watching a live cow being lowered onto the table. Pluvius turns back, looking a little envious and hungry, and goes on.

"Recruits with especial talent or inclination in more abstruse studies may receive free training in the technical school of their choice (Scholastica Psykana, Adeptus Mechanicus, or Colegio Apothecarion) under a special Space Marine Scholarship." The small screen now shows a Space Marine, dressed in full powered armor, sitting at a desk, filling in a scantron exam with an ancient and venerable #2 pencil. "These Marines go above and beyond the call of duty on the battlefield, lending their fighting skill while applying their advanced skills wherever they are needed most." Screen cuts to an Apothecary, carnifex in one hand, standing over the body of a dead Marine. He notices the camera suddenly, looks up, and smiles. Then he goes back to his work, roughly jabbing his carnifex into the Marine's chest and extracting the bloody, dripping geneseed, which he sticks in a jar.

"Time was, that you never got to see any new faces as a Space Marine. Back then, we thought that we were simply above abhuman trash, contemptible Imperial Guardsmen, or untrustworthy aliens. But times are changing - thanks to the new "affirmative action" plans, it is acceptable for Space Marines to fight alongside all these interesting characters. Every day, it is more and more common to see an Eldar Exarch fighting side-by-side with the Dark Angel Ravenwing, perhaps supplemented by the armored might of a Leman Russ battle tank. And while mighty characters such as Assassins and Inquisitor Lords are numerically rare, they make up for it by fighting more than their share of battles. So as you can see, joining the Adeptus Astartes is a great way to meet new people.

"In the grim darkness of the forty-first millenium, there is only war. But that doesn't mean that there's no time for fun and games! Every fortress-monastery is equipped with full recreational facilities. Just take a look." The screen goes through a number of scenes, including: Two Blood Angels, decked out in power armor, contemplating a game of Go; a pair of Space Wolves playing jai alai; a Salamander in Tactical Dreadnought Armor deftly kicking a soccer ball away from a pack of Nova Marines; Angels of Redemption marines cheering on a ping-pong match; an armored Howling Griffon doing a backflip off of a diving board, then promptly sinking to the bottom of the pool; an Angel Encarmine Devastator on a grassy hill, his autocannon propped against the tree, flying a kite in a clear-blue sky.

"And what about long-term benefits? Well, the average tour of duty in a Space Marine Chapter is about three hundred years. After that time, very few Marines decide to leave the Chapter voluntarily. But for those that do, it looks great on the resume! Former Space Marines are rarely out of a job for long, and are much sought-after in many walks of life." The screen shows a Mantis Warrior with reading glasses, processing tax returns; a Crimson Fist standing as a bouncer in front of a night club; a Grey Knight lecturing to a college classroom. "For those that die in the line of duty, full honors are bestowed posthumously, and funeral services arranged for." The screen shows a dead Blood Drinker with his progenoid glands cut out, and a Chaplain giving the services. "Lucky Marines who are mortally wounded in combat may have the option to be encased in a sarcophagus of adamantite, and instated as a Living Dreadnought, allowed to serve the Chapter for hundreds of years more."

Pluvius winds up his pitch now, and stands up. "So there you have it. The Adeptus Astartes - it's not just a job, it's an adventure. If you want to learn more about the enlistment opportunities, contact your local recruitment base. Tell them Pluvius sent you. And as for me-" Pluvius folds up the projection screen, revealing a horde of Orks engaged in combat against an Ultramarine army. Pluvius unstraps his power sword, and puts on a winning smile: "-I've got a battle to win! See you around." Turning to the battle, he starts shouting, "For the Emperor! Brother Octavius, watch your flank! Brother Amadeus, seal that gap! Brother Vicconius..."

*patriotic music for the credits, and then the reel ends


----------



## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

TRAITORS
We all know that Chaos Marines can conquer planets and bring entire systems under the grip of the Ruinous Powers... but how can they deal with the pressures of modern life? That's what "Traitors", everyone's favourite sit-com is for! Enjoy!

*The Traitor's apartment. Fabius Bile is sprawled on the couch, flesh-crafting with a rat he caught. Ahriman whistles tunelessly and happily as he busies himself around the kitchen. Suddenly Abaddon bursts in from his bedroom. His Terminator armour seems far too small and his hair is not in it's usual topknot, instead being draped messily around his head* 
ABADDON- Look at this! What do you call this, Ahriman?
AHRIMAN- Whaddya talkin' about?
ABADDON- You goof, you shrunk my blessed Terminator armour in the wash! It's cutting off the circulation to my limbs! And now I'm gonna be late for work, and I haven't got time to style my hair, and it's all Kharn's fault!
FABIUS- Why, what's he done?
ABADDON- Oh, he's only acting like he OWNS the shower, that's all! Oh, my hair's a mess... 
AHRIMAN- Chill Abaddon. You're just having a bad millennia, that's all.
ABADDON- Suppose so... oh, I'm gonna be so late! 
*Abaddon dashes over to the door, flustered*
FABIUS- Hey, don't forget Drach N'Yen... AGAIN!
ABADDON- Shut up! We talked, and it forgave me- admittedly in a way that resulted me losing two pints of blood, but that's not the point! Damn, I haven't even had time to wash up yet...
AHRIMAN- Okay, okay, I'll go get Kharn out of the bathroom so you can wash up quickly.
*Ahriman goes over to the bathroom door and taps on it gently*
AHRIMAN- Kharn, can you just come out for a sec so that Abaddon can just wash up?
KHARN- *inside* I CAN'T HEEEEEAR YOU!!!
AHRIMAN- I didn't want to have to do this... *strange, hypnotic voice, his Mark of Tzeentch glows* You will exit the bathroom... I command it... you are my unwilling pawn...
KHARN- *inside* I... am... your... unwilling... pawn...
*The bathroom door opens and Kharn, wearing a towel around his waist, though he still has his helmet on, steps out, dripping water onto the floor*
AHRIMAN- All yours Abaddon.
ABADDON- Thanks Ahriman! 
*Abaddon runs into the bathroom, and the sound of taps and splashing can be heard. Abaddon suddenly screams and runs out, his face plastered with blood*
FABIUS- So, Kharn... looks like you replaced the water pipe with a supply of fresh human blood that runs all the way from the donor ward... again.
*Canned laughter, Kharn turns to the camera and offers an open-handed shrug. Cut to theme song*

So no-one told you the Black Crusade was gonna be this way,
Your Raptors are jokes, Pred's broke, your Possessed are DOA,
It's like you're always stuck in second gear, 
And when you haven't been able to kill, or maim, or burn
For millennia, doesn't really matter, 'cos...

I'll be there for you, killing the Emperor's minions,
I'll be there for you, worshipping the Dark Gods,
I'll be there for you, 'cos you haven't managed to kill me yet...
(repeat)

*Back in the apartment. Kharn is building a house of cards, whilst Ahriman and Fabius are playing table football*
KHARN- You think Abaddon was peeved with me?
FABIUS- You mean apart from when he tried to remove both your hearts with the Talon of Horus?
KHARN- Yeah.
FABIUS- Nah. He was just screwed 'cos he was late for work.
KHARN- Good thing he actually missed with the Talon of Horus...
FABIUS- Yeah, you would've expected something like that to be master-crafted...
AHRIMAN- Shall we go down and see him later?
FABIUS- Yeah, maybe. *He scores a goal and gloats at Ahriman's expense* In your face, Thousand Chump! Manflayer; ten! The guy who practically destroyed his entire Legion; a big, fat nothing!
AHRIMAN- *hypnotic voice, Mark of Tzeentch and eyes glowing* But Fabius, I am winning.
FABIUS- *mesmerised* Yes, my master... you are winning... and I shall also give you... all my money... 
AHRIMAN- Gooood boy...

*Meanwhile, across the hall in the second apartment...*
TZAPHIEL- Argrath, this is the last time I'm gonna tell you!
ARGRATH- *downcast* M'sorry sir...
TZAPHIEL- If you're gonna go down to the Chaos Arms and come back with your blood being 50 per cent alcohol, do your Stream of Corruption in the toilet, not all over the floor... and me... and all my stuff.
ARGRATH- I can promise nothing! Muahahahaahaha...
TZAPHIEL- Watch it.
ARGRATH- Sorry.
*Gabriel and Dasleah enter*
GABRIEL- Yo, Tzaph man.
DASLEAH- What's shakin' Argy?
ARGRATH- My titanic bloated gut of course!
*Canned laughter*
TZAPHIEL- Hey, let's head down to Central Eye and get some strong Chaotic ale.
DASLEAH- Yeah, perhaps that loser Abaddon is there today.
GABRIEL- I hope so. I can't wait to openly mock him and invite his wrath upon me.
*Awkward silence. To break the silence, Argrath farts and sniggers. Everyone else collapses, unconscious. Argrath then pokes their prone bodies with his plague scythe*

*Later, at Central Eye, the local coffee shop. Kharn, Fabius and Ahriman are all splashed out on a couch made out of flayed skin with screaming faces. Abaddon walks up, his hair still messy and not in its usual topknot*
ABADDON- Hey guys. Whaddya want?
AHRIMAN- Ah, the usual, y'know. 
ABADDON- *scribbling on notepad* Okay, so that's a mug of raw bubbling warp essence and a cranberry muffin for you... Fabius?
*Fabius is busily liquidising an armchair into stimulants*
ABADDON- Fabius! 
FABIUS- What?
AHRIMAN- And a cranberry muffin.
ABADDON- What?
AHRIMAN- Raw bubbling warp essence... and a cranberry muffin. The usual.
ABADDON- I wrote down your usual... raw bubbling warp essence... and a cranberry muffin.
AHRIMAN- Did you?
ABADDON- Yep.
AHRIMAN- Honestly?
ABADDON- Yes!
AHRIMAN- I didn't see you...
FABIUS- Dude, you're second only to Tzeentch in terms of psychic might. You can alter time, twist fate, shake the ley-lines of the Universe and clean us out every time we play Tzany Tzeentch. Why DIDN'T you see him?
AHRIMAN- Geez, I know I can do all that stuff, but it's not like I do it twenty-four-seven, only when it's useful. Anyway, I don't need to use psychic powers when we play Tzany Tzeentch. You guys suck Nurgle's pustules at that game.
ABADDON- Truth be told Ahriman...
*canned laughter at the very idea of Ahriman actually telling the truth*
ABADDON- Truth be told Ahriman, you DID make up that game. And you seem to change the rules every time.
AHRIMAN- For the last time, Kings are worth three, Jacks are worth eight, apart from red Jacks which are worth their base value... the six of clubs is a wild card, but I'll get to that in a moment. You play in concentric order, and the winner is the man with twenty tricks out of eight rounds-
KHARN- Excuse me... BUT SOME PEOPLE WOULD LIKE TO ORDER TODAY!!!
ABADDON- Sorry Kharn. Whaddya want? Blood for the Blood God?
KHARN- I'm fed up with you guys making assumptions about me all the time! You all look at me and think "Oh look, it's Kharn the Predictable, probably wanting Blood for the Blood God." Have you never stopped to consider that I, as a follower of the fickle force that governs us all, might possibly make changes in my life, changes that you have never dreamed of before!? Bah, chaos... order... these are names we give to things we cannot truly understand but take comfort in believing that we do. No one can truly understand such complicated forces that are part of and indeed beyond this corporeal expanse of space and time, which we foolishly dub the Universe, thinking it to be everything when truly it is nothing!
ABADDON- Kharn... what do you want?
KHARN- *long silence, then in a quiet mumble* Blood for the Blood God.
ABADDON- Right, that's raw bubbling warp essence, a cranberry muffin, Blood for the Blood God and... Fabius?
FABIUS- Oh, I'm okay with this armchair which I'm dissolving into stimulants. I think I might have stored some herbal tea in my Xyclos Needler as well...
ABADDON- *scribbling the order down* Right, I'll be back in a sec'...
*A chair is suddenly thrown across the room and hits Abaddon square in the back of the head*
ABADDON- *collapsing in immense pain* AAAAARGH!!!
*Raucous laughter from a table the other side of the room, where Tzaphiel, Argrath, Gabriel and Dasleah all sit*
GABRIEL- Hey, Abaddon, get a hair-cut!
DASLEAH- You suck!
TZAPHIEL- You couldn't break wind, let alone people's bones!
ARGRATH- Warmaster of Chaos my filth-encrusted ass!
*Abaddon gets up shakily*
AHRIMAN- Just ignore them Abaddon. They're only trying to provoke you.
FABIUS- You think!?
ABADDON- Yeah, they're below my notice. I'll just ignore them. 
AHRIMAN- Oh, no-one cares. Hurry up with my muffin, coffee-monkey!
*Another thrown chair knocks Abaddon senseless*
AHRIMAN- How am I going to get my muffin at this rate? Kharn, sort 'em out.
KHARN- *gets up and unlimbers Gorechild* Just keep about two inches away from me. I don't want to have one of my attacks allocated against you.
AHRIMAN- Kharn, that's so friendly and thoughtful!
KHARN- You must be joking! You owe me money and I want the pleasure of taking it from you when you're still alive and able to scream and bleed.
*Kharn charges towards the four various Chaos lords; two Word Bearers and two Death Guard*
KHARN- Who wants some of me, eh? 
*Argrath changes from the Corruptor to the Baneful, pestilent robes blowing around his colossal skeletal body, plague scythe in one hand, flail in the other. Tzaphiel becomes the Angel of Chaos, sprouting massive black angel wings and hefting the Daemon Falchion Zeal. Gabriel brings out a Brazier of Sinful Flame and chants the Hymns of Pandemonium. Dasleah Calin Desai metamorposises into his monstrous skeletal form (remember 41st Millennium RPG, Das'? Caleb vs. Dasleah!- ed). They all glower at Kharn*
ARGRATH- Bring on the noise.
TZAPHIEL- Some serious thwack is gonna get thrown down...
GABRIEL- And Kharn's gonna go home in a bodybag, says Gabriel 3.16
DASLEAH- Can the speeches, it's ass-whoopin' time!
KHARN- Ah monkey-trumpets...
*cue very messy, very prolonged beating of Kharn. Fabius and Ahriman watch*
FABIUS- Wow, Kharn has a lot of blood...
AHRIMAN- Yeah, except it was circulating through his body a couple of minutes ago... and now it most decidedly is not...
*more beating, screams of help from Kharn*
FABIUS- Yep, it's almost as if they're going out of their way to beat the sweet bajeezus out of him in the most time-consuming and agonising method possible...
AHRIMAN- If the worst comes to the worst, I get his windchime!
FABIUS- Damn, guess I'll have to make do with his lava-lamp...

Don't miss the next exciting episode of "Traitors", including the following outrageous scenes!

ABADDON- Kharn, sometimes I think you have more respect for your Blood God than me...
KHARN- 'Baddy, that's not true!
ABADDON- It seems like it... sometimes, I don't who you love more...

And...

FABIUS- *in true South Park style* Oh my god, Ahriman manipulated the time-stream!
ALL- You #######!

And...

AHRIMAN- Guys, I got tickets to the Noise Marine dedication concert!
FABIUS- Wow, which band are they dedicating the concert to?
AHRIMAN- Korn.
KHARN- Noise of Marines of Slaanesh... in league with Khorne!? Mama mia!

Stay tuned!


----------



## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

Welcome back to part two! When we last left the gang...

ARGRATH- *beating the snot out of Kharn* Come on guys, only a coupla more pints of blood left in him!
*Mass kicking and punching. Argrath elbow-drops Kharn, Dasleah bends his leg the wrong way, Tzaphiel kicks him in the ribs and Gabe gives him the noogie*
KHARN- P-please... s-stop... the... ugh... paaaain...
TZAPHIEL- WHY AREN'T YOU DEAD YET!!?
KHARN- Well technically, I DID die at the Siege of the Emperor's Palace, and Khorne breathed life back into me.
GABRIEL- OH MY GOD!!! HE'S A ZOOOOOOOMBIE!!! 
*Argrath, Dasleah, Tzaphiel and Gabriel recoil in sudden fear*
DASLEAH- Don't hurt us Mr. Zombie! 
ARGRATH- You leave our brains alone, you brain eating... *thinks* brain eater!
TZAPHIEL- Don't annoy him! He'll stumble towards us slowly and groan! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!? DO YOU WANT TO KILL US ALL!!?
ARGRATH- Gotcha *to Kharn* I'm very sorry, Mr. Zombie. In fact, I respect your kind. Hell, some of my followers ARE zombies. And that scent of rotting flesh just can't be beaten!
GABRIEL- *murmurs to Argrath* Good going Argrath. Any more lies to keep him happy?
ARGRATH- I wasn't lying.
GABRIEL- .....oh.
KHARN- Let me get this straight. You guys think I'm scarier when I'm a brain-dead zombie instead of a blood-soaked, nigh-invulnerable Arch-Berserker of the Chaos God of blood and war?
DASLEAH- *sarcastically* Well, yeah!
KHARN- Hmm... not sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment...
TZAPHIEL- Don't hurt us! Please! We love zombies!
ARGRATH- Yeah, we're all anti-Resident Evil! Honestly!
GABRIEL- Hell with that! I LOVE Resident Evil! Shooting zombies with an enhanced shotgun... golly, that's fun. And Nemesis? What a pushover! Yep, it just doesn't get better than blowing apart zombies in a variety of brutal ways, yessirree...
*Long silence*
TZAPHIEL- *slapping forehead, murmuring* Gabriel, you dumbass...
GABRIEL- What? What did I say? 
DASLEAH- Now he's mad! Mad I say! Mad as chestnuts soaked in vinegar!
KHARN- You want zombie, eh? I'll give you zombie... ahem... *groans* braaaaains...
TZAPH, DAS, GABE, ARGY- AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!
*They run off with screams of "mad zombie"*
KHARN- Hmm. That was easy. Guess I've been doing it wrong all these years after all... *light bulb appears over his head* Hey! I got a great idea!

*Meanwhile, outside Central Eye, Fabius and Ahriman are talking to Doomrider*
AHRIMAN- Look, Doomy, you're not really that great... 
DOOMRIDER- B-but... wheels of fire! *he points pathetically at his bike* A-and... throbbing Daemon sword... *gestures weakly*
FABIUS- Oh lordy... look, Doomy. Your bike is basically a jump pack. That throbbing Daemon sword is a bog-standard power weapon. And don't get me started on the pulsating gun of gushing plasma...
DOOMRIDER- Wh-what about it?
FABIUS- It's a plasma gun. Plain and simple. And what's all this "He Comes He Goes" poo, eh? Care to offer some sort of explanation for this!?
DOOMRIDER- Shut up! It's not my fault I don't have any damn fluff!
AHRIMAN- That's right, it's Jervis' fault.
*Fabius, Ahriman and Doomrider all turn to face the camera, absolutely serious and deadpan*
AHRIMAN- Damn you.
FABIUS- Damn you Jervis.
DOOMRIDER- Damn you.
*They all stare at the camera for a while, before turning back to the script and conversation*
FABIUS- Okay Doomy, prove you aren't a waste of... *flips through Pamphlet: Chaos Space Marines*... half a page. Woo. 
AHRIMAN- Hey, I'm the top half of that page! Let me think, how many pages were dedicated to me in the 2nd ed Codex? Hmm... oh, wait, let me think... hmmm... oh yeah... FOUR!!! Four pages of me! Two and a half for background, the other one and a half for my grossly overpowerful rules. 
DOOMRIDER- *Ignoring the rambling Thousand Son Chief Librarian* You want proof? Fine, name anything, and I'll do it! ANYTHING. I am a follower of Slaanesh you know... *he puts a hand on Fabius's knee*
FABIUS- Don't touch me, biker-boy.
DOOMRIDER- *removing his hand* M'sorry.
AHRIMAN- How about a game of chicken?
DOOMRIDER- Sure! What against? A kiddy's tricycle? A Skoda? Some sort of wheelbarrow?
AHRIMAN- I was thinking something a little more challenging... Abaddon!
*There is a sudden hoot and the ground shakes. Around the corner comes an 18-wheeler truck, driven by Abaddon, who is smiling and waving cheerfully*
DOOMRIDER- Hmmm... I see... er... right...
FABIUS- Okay you guys- opposite ends of the street and start revving.
DOOMRIDER- I... er... can't... do this...
AHRIMAN- Why's that?
*long pause*
DOOMRIDER- I COME, I GO! *he rolls a D6. It lands on a 4. He turns it to a 1 and starts to vanish* See ya suckers!
AHRIMAN- Damn it.
ABADDON- No, damn Jervis.
FABIUS- Yes. Yes we should.
*They all turn to face the camera, again absolutely serious and deadpan*
AHRIMAN, ABADDON, FABIUS- Damn you Jervis. Damn you.

*Back at the Traitor's apartment. Ahriman, Fabius and Abaddon are all sitting on the couch*
ABADDON- I wonder where Kharn is.
FABIUS- He said he'd be back in a little while.
AHRIMAN- So, where is he?
FABIUS- What do I look like, his keeper?
ABADDON- He has got that Collar of Khorne for a reason, y'know.
FABIUS- Look, for the last time, I didn't lose the leash!
AHRIMAN- Well, someone did!
*Kharn enters. Instead of his normal power armour, he is wearing filthy rags, though he still has his helmet on*
KHARN- Yo, jizz-monkeys.
ABADDON- Don't call me a jizz-monkey Kharn, or I WILL actually be forced to take some sort of long iron pole and insert it into you. Nothing personal you understand, but... y'know.
KHARN- Gotcha. 
*Kharn flops down on the sofa*
AHRIMAN- Kharn... where's your power armour? And Gorechild? And all your other wargear? 
KHARN- I pawned it all and got these blood and filth-encrusted rags! Whaddya think? 
FABIUS- Riiiiight... *deep breath* Okay, I think I'm braced enough for the momentous and outright stupidity that's going to precede my question. Oh... wait... *deep breath* Okay, definitely braced enough. Now... why, pray tell, did you pawn all your wargear and buy some blood and filth-encrusted rags?
KHARN- Duh, to fit in with my new scary zombie image!
FABIUS- Hmmm... yeah, I didn't think I was braced anough... *Fabius blacks out and collapses, banging his head on the coffee table as he falls to the floor*
ABADDON- Your WHAT image?
KHARN- My scary zombie image! Our arch rivals who live across the hall said I was scarier as a filthy brain-eating zombie than a mighty, raging Chosen One Of The Great Hound Of War, so I sold all my Chaos stuff and got some really groovy zombie threads? Whaddya think? *He does a little twirl*
AHRIMAN- No offence, but it looks like you've just robbed a corpse.
KHARN- Funny you should mention that... you wouldn't believe how easy it is to break into a morgue nowadays...
ABADDON- So, you actually believed our arch rivals and sold all your wargear, then you robbed a corpse of it's clothing... where's the money though?
KHARN- Oh, I gave that to our arch rivals.
AHRIMAN- Why?
*Kharn shrugs*
ABADDON- *muttering* I am going to stab you in the face SO much...
AHRIMAN- Kharn, you're such a fool! You've sold all your cool Khorne *spit* stuff, and then you go and give the money to our arch rivals! WHY!?
KHARN- They said they'd pay me back! Why would they lie to me?
AHRIMAN- *to Abaddon* Shall we just not bother stating the blatantly obvious?
ABADDON- Good idea.
KHARN- I trusted our arch rivals 'cos they told me to.
AHRIMAN- Kharn!
KHARN- What?
AHRIMAN- *hands him a fistful of cash* Here's some cash, go and buy your stuff back. And hurry!
KHARN- Well, here's the thing...
ABADDON- *groans* Sweet Phraz-Etar on a pogo-stick, there's more...
KHARN- I kinda sold all my stuff to our arch rivals... and then they persuaded me to give them back the money they'd used to buy my stuff... and then they sold my stuff to someone else for double the price they'd paid me for...
AHRIMAN- So, you basically GAVE AWAY your stuff and our rivals made a massive profit in the process.
KHARN- Well, in a purely philosophical sense, no.
AHRIMAN- You failed Philosophy, didn't you? 
ABADDON- *to Kharn* God, I hate you.

*Back in the arch-rivals' apartment*
ARGRATH- Well, we made a nice profit out of Kharn's power armour and Gorechild.
TZAPHIEL- Yep, now we just gotta decide what we're gonna do with the money...
DASLEAH- Hmmm... maybe we should invest it and spend it wisely, so that in the future we're financially secure and there's no risk of us getting into problems with debt or mortages.
*Long silence. They all suddenly burst into fits of laughter*
GABRIEL- *between spasms of mirth* Good one Das'!
TZAPHIEL- *nearly sick from laughing* Invest it! Good lord, someone shoot me before my blood vessels burst!
ARGRATH- *rolling on the floor* It's like my own personal Fate of Bjuna!
*They all eventually calm down*
DASLEAH- Thank you, thank you... I'm here 'til Thursday.
GABRIEL- *wiping away a tear, sniggering* Ahhh... what do you think we should do with the cash, Tzaph?
TZAPHIEL- I've got three ideas I'd like to run past you. Firstly, we use the cash to build a colossal basalt cathedral, dedicated to the eternal glory of Chaos Undivided and the undeniable holiness of mighty Lorgar, where thousands will flock and embrace the freedom of Chaos!
ARGRATH- Sorry Mr. Word "Beardy", but no dice.
GABRIEL- *producing a sack of D6s* Several, actually.
*Cheesy canned laughter*
TZAPHIEL- Okay, so that's a no-no. Secondly, we use the cash to bribe the GW staff into accepting my Codex. We use the remainder of the cash to hire some sort of Vindicare Assassin to pop off Chambers, Johnso, Haines, Thorpe and Sawyer and replace them with ourselves.
DASLEAH- Like we need cash to do that. That's what bolters are there for!
TZAPHIEL- Well, that just leaves the third option.
ARGRATH- Which is?
TZAPHIEL- We blow it all on an elaborate two-month long holiday, somewhere nice, hot and sunny.
GABRIEL- Yay! The Bolter and Chainsword boys are going to Paraguay!
*Long silence*
DASLEAH- Maybe not. How about New Zealand? New Zealand is awesome. It's probably the best place in the world. Actually, I'd have to say New Zealand is the best place in the Universe. Yep, I'm pretty sure New Zealand is actually God's finest work on this world, if not in the entire Universe. Ever.
TZAPHIEL- *arms folded across chest* A little biased, aren't we Dasleah?
DASLEAH- *mumbles* Yes.
ARGRATH- Maybe we shouldn't go somewhere hot and sunny. I'll fester and attract flies, and that's just plain inconvenient.
GABRIEL- Coughcough PARAGUAY coughcough...
TZAPHIEL, DASLEAH, ARGRATH- WE'RE NOT GOING TO PARAGUAY!!!
GABRIEL- *muttering* Hate you all so much... spoiling my life-long dream...
DASLEAH- Hmmm... where could we go which isn't too hot and sunny, but is generally nice and has a lot to offer young, handsome and extremely gullible tourists who also happen to be dark, psychopathic followers of the Ruinous Powers?
GABRIEL- *shrugs* London?
ARGRATH- What sort of show would this be if we had a special episode set in London?
TZAPHIEL- Yeah, and we all know that if we went to London for a special episode that is set in London, two of us would only end up sleeping with each other and eventually end up sharing an apartment and sparking off an on-screen love that would create obsession in thousands of gormless viewers.
DASLEAH- Coughcough RIPOFF coughcough OF FRIENDS coughcough...
ARGRATH- Did you say something Das'?
DASLEAH- Yes. Yes I did.
ARGRATH- Care to tell me?
DASLEAH- Not particulary.
TZAPHIEL- Okay, it's settled! The Bolter and Chainsword boys are going to-
GABRIEL- *interrupting* JERUSALEM!
*Tzaphiel screams with frustration and chases Gabriel around the apartment, trying to beat him to death with a courgette*
DASLEAH- So, Argy... you're a Brit... what's London like?
ARGRATH- Don't ask. Just... DON'T.

Will the Rivals enjoy London? Will the Traitors follow them? Will Kharn ever get his stuff back? Will Fabius ever regain consciousness? Will Tzaphiel kill something? Find out in the next episode of "Traitors"! 
Part three's FINALLY here, with mayhem galore!
When we last left our anti-heroes, the Rivals were planning to spend the vast amount of money that they had gained (thanks to Kharn's utterly grotesque stupidity) on a two-week holiday in Merrye Olde Londone! But they are not alone...

*Gatwick airport. The plane has just landed, and, bleary-eyed, the Rivals stumble through Arrivals*
ARGRATH- Urgh, that flight was terrible.
GABRIEL- Indeed it was. Especially since that airline food mutated into Chaos Spawn.
TZAPHIEL- No. It didn't. It just looks that way all the time.
GABRIEL- That would explain a great deal.
ARGRATH- *looking around* Hey, where's Dasleah?
TZAPHIEL- *shrugs* I dunno. I think he just... faded away... 
GABRIEL- You kicked him out of the plane! 
TZAPHIEL- Now is not the time for accusations Gabe. Now is the time for bloody mayhem as we try and retrieve our luggage. Besides, Dasleah left on his own accord.
ARGRATH- At least, that's what we have to assume, as someone had mysteriously drugged him...
TZAPHIEL- Yessirree, a really dilly of a pickle of a mystery that. What dastardly cad could have drugged Dasleah and then kicked him out a plane?
*Long pause*
GABRIEL- No idea.
ARGRATH- Nope.
TZAPHIEL- Heh heh... suckers...
GABRIEL- Did you say something?
TZAPHIEL- I don't know, did you?
GABRIEL- What!?
TZAPHIEL- Ah-hah, denying it now, are we?
GABRIEL- What are you talking about!?
TZAPHIEL- You tell me!
ARGRATH- Oh for Mortarion's sake... *he vomits over the two Word Bearers and a dozen travellers. Ignoring the agonised screams of dying Japanese businessmen, Argrath wheels the trolley off, muttering about how soon the whole world shall burn in his evil*

*Meanwhile, following the Rivals, the Traitors appear, wearing dark glasses and fake moustaches.*
ABADDON- Ah-hah! These disguises are so cunning, our rivals have not spotted us!
AHRIMAN- One of my better cunning plans, I believe.
KHARN- I think there's a scorpion in this fake 'tache...
ABADDON- Silence Kharn! And don't mess up my spare armour!
*Kharn, after selling his Chaos armour to the Rivals, is now wearing Abaddon's spare suit of Terminator armour; it is matt-black and peeling in areas*
KHARN- How can I mess it up? This thing's got a black basecoat! That's it!
ABADDON- It's my spare. That's why I don't need to have it painted, shaded, highlighted and drybrushed, you silly goose.
*Long pause*
FABIUS- Did you just say "silly goose"?
ABADDON- O-of course not! Wh-what makes you say that? Only "those types" say silly goose...
AHRIMAN- We believe you, fruity.
ABADDON- Hey, take that back!
FABIUS- Oh, now you're just being catty.
ABADDON- Shut up and hurry up. I don't want to lose sight of our rivals. 
FABIUS- Rooow, hiss, hiss!
*They run off in pursuit of the Rivals*

*Customs*
CUSTOMS OFFICER- Anything to declare, sirs?
TZAPHIEL- Only my utter devotion to Chaos Undivided and the exalted glory of Lorgar.
GABRIEL- Ditto.
ARGRATH- Honestly, would you want to search me even I declared I was carrying some sort of illegal substances?
*The customs officer pales and fails*
TZAPHIEL- Let's mosey, homies.
GABRIEL- Don't speak like that. It sickens me. 
ARGRATH- That's what you said when I decided to make a name for myself in the fragrance industry.
GABRIEL- Precisely my point.
TZAPHIEL- Besides, you couldn't make a profit with a perfume that's also a potential bio-hazard.
ARGRATH- There's nothing "potential" about it!
GABRIEL- That's what all those buyers would say... if their vocal cords hadn't bubbled away upon inhaling the stuff.
ARGRATH- And don't forget about the jaundice!
TZAPHIEL- *walking off* Oh, Eye forbid if we forget about your precious jaundice...
ARGRATH- Are you being sarcastic?
TZAPHIEL- *heavily sarcastic and elongated* Noooo!
*Rivals leave, Traitors sneak in. Customs officer has recovered*
CUSTOMS OFFICER- Anything to declare, sirs?
AHRIMAN- Nope.
FABIUS- Nothing.
ABADDON- Nadda.
KHARN- We're all psychopathic followers of the Ruinous Powers, cunningly disguised so that we may slip past your feeble defences and be destruction and the apocalypse incarnate upon thy land.
*Long pause, Ahriman, Abaddon and Fabius all stare at Kharn*
AHRIMAN- What part of "don't speak and only breath enough to maintain consciousness" didn't you understand?
FABIUS- Knowing Kharn, I'd say all of it.
ABADDON- I'll have to go with Mr. Gene-Splice McSplicely on this one.
KHARN- Silly! Everyone knows that all true followers of honourable Khorne ALWAYS tell the truth!
AHRIMAN- Kharn, are you familiar with the term "justifiable homicide"?
KHARN- Refresh my memory.
ABADDON- We'd be happy to.
*Ahriman, Kharn and Abaddon all produce weapons and surround Kharn*
KHARN- I'm sensing some negativity here...
*Back to the Rivals, walking to collect luggage*
TZAPHIEL- It's down here to collect the luggage, right?
ARGRATH- Yep.
GABRIEL- Cool.
KHARN- *off-scene* OH SWEET KHORNE!!! AAARGH!!! I COULDN'T BE IN MORE PAIN!!!
ARGRATH- Did you guys hear something?
KHARN- *off-scene* NO!!! NO!!! NOT DRACH N'YEN!!! NOT THERE!!! AAAAAAARGH!!!
TZAPHIEL- Not really.
KHARN- *off-scene* AAAARGH!!! WHY ISN'T ANYONE HELPING ME!!? I'M IN SO MUCH UNBELIEVABLE AGONY!!!
GABRIEL- *unlimbering accursed crozius* Right, who's ready for the luggage press?
ARGRATH- *readying plague scythe* Count me in!
TZAPHIEL- *unsheathing power sword* I wish it didn't always have to end in slaughtering civilians just to retrieve our suitcases... but, meh, whaddya gonna do?
*They walk off*
KHARN- *off-scene, quiet* Ribs... crushed... lungs... squashed... spleen... burst... self-narration... becoming annoying...
*The Rivals emerge from airport exit, drenched in blood*
ARGRATH- That was a rather successful luggage press, I feel.
GABRIEL- Do you think that, one of these days, slaughtering innocent civilians is gonna get boring?
*Long silence*
ALL- Nah!
TZAPHIEL- Well, our taxi should be here soon...
*There is a toot to their left. They all turn to see a customised drag-Rhino, painted in Word Bearer crimson*
TZAPHIEL- Ah, here we are...
GABRIEL- The Eulogy is our taxi? Who's driving?
*Berial leans out of the window*
BERIAL- Where to, guv'?
*Tzaphiel and Gabriel load their luggage and get in. Argrath follows slowly, muttering*
ARGRATH- Great, ANOTHER Word Bearer for me to attempt to kill... wherefore art thou, Dasleah and Kenshin? 
TZAPHIEL- Argy, quit your belly-aching and get in!
ARGRATH- Are there any air-fresheners in there?
GABRIEL- Nope. Just good ol' fashioned Chaos incense burners.
ARGRATH- ... Very well then.
*He climbs in and the Eulogy pulls out. The Traitors emerge, dragging Kharn behind them*
FABIUS- They're getting away!
AHRIMAN- Curses!
ABADDON- Looks like we're well and truly nutmegged. 
*Fabius and Ahriman turn to look at Abaddon. Long silence.*
ABADDON- What? Is there something on my face...?
FABIUS- "Nutmegged"?
AHRIMAN- Forget it you two. We have to catch up with them!
ABADDON- Why?
FABIUS- How else are we gonna keep this story going otherwise?
ABADDON- Point. But how are we gonna catch up? We haven't got a car!
FABIUS- Wait, lemme try... *he sticks a big foam thumb-up hand on the end of the Chirurgeon's arms and attempts to hitch-hike* Taxi!
ABADDON- It's not working.
AHRIMAN- Don't worry lads. I got an idea...
*The Italian Job's soundtrack spontaneously starts and then stops*
FABIUS- And what pray tell, would that be?
AHRIMAN- Just a little something I like to call... *he grabs Kharn and throws him into the road* A SPEED BUMP!
KHARN- Aw hell...
*Kharn lands in the middle of the road and lies there groaning. A taxi stops just before hitting him.*
ABADDON- *charging forward* Follow that drag-Rhino!
TAXI DRIVER- Righto guv'.
*Before getting into the taxi, Fabius turns to Ahriman*
FABIUS- That was a great plan Ahriman, using Kharn to stop this taxi!
AHRIMAN- Thanks... though it's better when it works, aka, when he becomes road-kill.
KHARN- *staggering to his feet, bleeding profusely from several locations* Excuse me, but I'm in desperate need of medical attention here...
AHRIMAN- Oh bitch, bitch, bitch. Get in, moany. 
*Ahriman bundles Kharn into the boot before the taxi drives off in pursuit of the Eulogy.*

*The Eulogy tears down the road, the taxi in close pursuit*
BERIAL- *checking wing-mirror* We got company, lads.
ARGRATH- It undoubtedly our rivals!
GABRIEL- Don't you mean Traitors? Cos... y'know... WE'RE the Rivals...
ARGRATH- Must you contradict everything I say?
GABRIEL- I don't contradict everything you say!
ARGRATH- You just did it again!
GABRIEL- No I didn't! 
BERIAL- Can I just say that having a blazing row isn't gonna help us get our pursuers off our asses?
GABRIEL- *Cunning* Or will it?
*Long pause*
ARGRATH- No. What do we do, Tzaphiel?
*He looks over to Tzaphiel, who is sitting listening to music with earphones in*
ARGRATH- Tzaph?
TZAPHIEL- *Singing* Show me how you want it to be, tell me baby, 'cos I need to know now, because...
ARGRATH- Tzaph...
TZAPHIEL- *Still singing* My loneliness, is killin' me... and I... I must confess, I still believe, when I'm not with you, I lose my mind... give me a sign...
ARGRATH- Tzaph!
TZAPHIEL- HIT ME BABY, ONE MORE TIME!
ARGRATH- As you ask... *smacks Tzaph in the face*
TZAPHIEL- *staggering* Ah dammit!
ARGRATH- It was for your own good. Obviously, some sort of malign warp entity had possessed you.
TZAPHIEL- *sideways glance* Errr... yeah... obviously... a, er... warp, er, thingy. Of course... ha-ha... not Britney Spears... sweet Lorgar, of course not...
GABRIEL- *sitting back, utterly deadpan* Every time we think he's hit rock bottom, someone's always thrown him a shovel.
BERIAL- Tzaph, the Traitors are chasing us.
TZAPHIEL- Oh, they are now, are they? *Withdraws plasma pistol* I'll teach them a lesson!
*Tzaphiel leans out of the window*
TZAPHIEL- EAT PLASMA, YOU CADS!!!
*He throws the plasma pistol at the taxi*
BERIAL- You THREW your plasma pistol?
GABRIEL- That was our only gun!
TZAPHIEL- Well then, what's this then, eh? *producing something from his holster*
ARGRATH- That's a box of aspirin.
TZAPHIEL- ..... Well, drat.

*Meanwhile, back in the taxi*
FABIUS- Drive faster, accursed flesh-thing!
TAXI DRIVER- So as I was sayin', that's when I 'ad me bunions removed. Course, it were painful an' all, seein' as I 'ad it done wiv yer common garden rake...
AHRIMAN- Ah, I can almost smell victory! Muahahahahahahaha!!!
TAXI DRIVER- Beg yer pudden mate, but that ain't yer precious victory, just me ol' gut workin' me lunch through... well, bugger me, chicken always gives me gas... *offensive flatulent sound* Cor lumme, watch yerselves, that un's a proper guffer an' no mistake...
ABADDON- *praying* Look, I'm sorry about all those Black Crusades. Just get me out of this and I promise I won't launch any more unholy crusades into the False Imperium anymore...
TAXI DRIVER- *craning forward* 'Ere, what's that nutter doin'?
FABIUS- Looks like he's leaning out of the window... and throwing something!
AHRIMAN- Sweet Tzeentch, look out!
*Tzaphiel's plasma pistol smashes through the windscreen and lands in Abaddon's lap*
ABADDON- Well, this is certainly an awkward position...
*The plasma pistols start to spasm and fires on full-auto, spraying the inside of the cab with plasma fire*
AHRIMAN- Aaaaah!!! It's mighty AP of 2 cuts through my pitiful 3+ Save! Aaaargh!!!
FABIUS- Aaaaargh!!! 4+ Invulnerable Save... provided by Chirurgeon... ineffective... ARGH!!!
ABADDON- Sweet jeebus, it hurts!
KHARN- *muffled voice from boot* When in Rome... ARRRGH!!! The pain! The incredibly painful... err... PAIN!!! AAAARGH!!!
TAXI DRIVER- *spinning the wheel* If it's alright wiv you gents, I was goin' to frow the car into a rather cinematic spin, before the 'ole blummy fing tips over an' rolls to a stop as a nightmare tangle of twisted metal an' fire.
FABIUS- That would be fine.
AHRIMAN- Yep. Go for it.
ABADDON- Could we have the engine exploding for no particular reason as well?
TAXI DRIVER- Don't see why not. Right, steady yerselves gents. An' if I was you, I'd scream an' yell randomly as well. It 'elps.
*The Traitors all agree.*
KHARN- *muffled from the boot* What's going on? Guys? Guys...?

*Back in the Eulogy*
ARGRATH- Look, Tzaphiel's "plan", and I use that term in it's loosest sense, seems to have done something!
GABRIEL- Wow, look at all that random plasma fire punching through the car.
ARGRATH- Hey, that was a nice cinematic spin there.
GABRIEL- And look, the thing seems to have tipped over and rolled to a stop as a nightmare tangle of twisted metal and fire!
ARGRATH- And that's some nice random screaming and yelling there as well.
GABRIEL- Yeah, it helps.
ARGRATH- Whoa, looks like the engine's exploded for no particular reason as well!
TZAPHIEL- All according to plan! Hah-hah! Now Berial! Drive! Drive I say!
BERIAL- I'm not even half a metre away from you... you don't have to shout...
TZAPHIEL- YES I DO!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! 
*The Eulogy drives off towards London*

*Back with the crashed taxi. Fabius, Ahriman, Abaddon and the Driver are all standing looking at the wreck*
ABADDON- I have to admit, that WAS nice cinematic spin.
AHRIMAN- And it was pretty cool when the car tipped over and rolled to a stop as a nightmare tangle of twisted metal and fire.
FABIUS- Yeah, and all that random screaming and yelling really helped.
ABADDON- And look, the engine exploded for no particular reason after all!
TAXI DRIVER- Well, that was me crash fer a long time! Nice doin' business wiv you gents. Oh, an' if you want to catch up wiv yer Rivals, yer'd better start 'oofin' it, sharpish.
AHRIMAN- Right guys, let's go.
*They walk off.*
TAXI DRIVER- What a nice bunch of gents.
*He walks off in the opposite direction.*
KHARN- *muffled from within the wreck* Hello? Hello!? Is anyone there? I'm in an ungodly amount of pain... I think, I think... yes, yes, there is a metre-long metal bar through my leg... hello? Hello? Could someone please call an ambulance, because I can't emphasise how much pain I'm in... okay... I'll try and claw my way out... *snap of bone* Aaargh! My hand has bent the wrong way, so I'll try with the other hand... *snap of bone* Aaaargh! Okay, now both my hands are broken and bleeding... the blood is tinged with green... I don't think that's a good sign. Hello? I really could use some medical aid here... hello? Someone? I don't mean to rush, but I can feel my consciousness fading here... anyone?


Part Four people!

*The Eulogy is parked outside a hotel. Inside, the Rivals are taking breakfast. Berial has tagged along for no real reason*
WAITER- What can I get for you sirs?
ARGRATH- Coffee, flesh-blister. And hurry! I am in desperate need of caffeine...
TZAPHIEL- Why?
ARGRATH- When you get to my ripe old age, you simply NEED it.
BERIAL- Not us though!
ARGRATH- Curse your youth...
WAITER- How would you like it sir?
ARGRATH- *exasperated sigh* So black that I have to chew before swallowing. Okay?
WAITER- Errr... okay sir, I think we can manage that... *turns to Gabriel* And sir?
GABRIEL- Strong monkish ale. With added zeal, if possible. I likes me mah zeal.
*Waiter scribbles down on notepad.*
WAITER- Righto. And you two?
BERIAL- Got any foul, raw bubbling warp essence?
WAITER- *shrugs* I believe we have some Bovril in the back.
BERIAL- That'll do.
TZAPHIEL- O.J.
WAITER- He's currently staying at the Ritz sir, not here. Anything-
TZAPHIEL- Orange... juice...
WAITER- Ah, gotcha. Okay gents, I'll be right back.
*Waiter leaves*
GABRIEL- Well, here we are, in Merrye Olde Englande! Lande ofe endinge everye worde withe ane ee!
ARGRATH- Yay, whoopy, never been there before. Only live here, s'all. 
TZAPHIEL- Ditto.
BERIAL- Same here.
GABRIEL- Well, I'm looking forward to it!
TZAPHIEL- In the name of all the Hells, why!? 
ARGRATH- If you say it's because you want to see the Queen, we'll redefine your world as living PAIN...
GABRIEL- In all honesty, I want to go to the Tower of London.
TZAPHIEL- To destroy the Crown Jewels?
BERIAL- Drop the destructive urge or your fixin' to get YOUR Crown Jewels destroyed.
TZAPHIEL- You and what army of arch-fiends, chump boy?
*Berial and Tzaphiel growl pathetically at each other. Argrath sighs and seperates them with a sweep of his massive decaying arm*
ARGRATH- Sure, why not? Tower of London sounds okay for a day out.
TZAPHIEL- And Westminster Abbey? How about there too?
ARGRATH- Do you promise not to summon Daemons while in there?
GABRIEL- Yeah, like when we went to Notre Dame. I mean, I've seen some pretty messy carnage in my infernal life, but sheesh...
TZAPHIEL- What exactly is wrong with Daemonettes cavorting with each other in hedonistic lust-rituals in... in the... the... *he trails off as pleasant mental images come to mind*
GABRIEL- Tzaph?
*Tzaphiel burbles incoherently for at least a quarter of an hour, to silent and worried stares. There are occassional audible snatches of sentences including nipples, tongues and the interesting alternative uses for chocolate fudge sauce* 
BERIAL- *eventually* Tzaph!
TZAPHIEL- Oh, sorry. *pause* We were talking about Daemonettes?
ARGRATH- That was ten minutes ago!
TZAPHIEL- My bad. So, can we? Can we go to Westminster, pleeeeeeeease?
GABRIEL- Will denying you result in you doing those damned Chaos Hound eyes?
TZAPHIEL- Oh, most definitely.
ARGRATH- Fine, we'll go to the Tower of London AND Westminster. Fetid tapdancing Nurgle, this is why I don't hang out with you damn Undivided peons... 
BERIAL- We'll probably need to use the Ancient Labyrinth Caverns of Eternal Depressing Gloom and Nauseous Stench.
TZAPHIEL- The London Underground?
BERIAL- Bingo.
GABRIEL- Well, let's eat and then move.
ARGRATH- Sounds good. 
*Argrath inhales several plates of food. The three Word Bearers do likewise*

*Meanwhile, a couple of tables away, the Traitors sit, eating breakfast and crouching low in their seats in an attempt to remain unseen* 
FABIUS- *through a mouthful of toast* Do you think they've seen us? 
AHRIMAN- *buttering a coissant* Do not be foolish! My spell of invisibility has us cloaked, veiled in an impenetrable shroud of shadows and illusion! *munches, with his mouth full* They could not detect us even if we were a metre away from them! 

*Back with the Rivals* 
GABRIEL- *without looking up from the menu* Guys, the Traitors are over there. 
TZAPHIEL, ARGRATH, BERIAL- *in unison, without looking up* We know. 

*Back with the Traitors! Whoo-hah! Crazy scene changes abundant I say!* 
ABADDON- I think I heard where they're planning to go! 
KHARN- Really? Where? 
ABADDON- I think they're going to go to the Tower of London, and Westminster Abbey. 
AHRIMAN- But which one first? 
ABADDON- I dunno. We should split into teams. Ahriman, you're with me. Fabius... 
FABIUS- Aw poo. 
ABADDON- Aw poo indeed. You're with Kharn. 
KHARN- *in a full bodycast after his misfortune with the taxi* Oh, goody! 
FABIUS- Oh, god. 
ABADDON- Don't worry guys, I'll give a couple of friends a ring... *he produces a Chaos mobile phone, complete with spikes and poly-daemonic ringtone* Hehehe... hahahaha... muahaha... BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!! 
*Fabius and Ahriman shift back slightly* 
AHRIMAN- Is he okay? 
FABIUS- I don't really wanna know. 
ABADDON- OH YES, THE POWER!!! IT MAKES ME FEEL ALIIIVE!!! 

*The Rivals are outside the hotel, planning what to do* 
ARGRATH- Well, I want to go to the Tower first. 
TZAPHIEL- But I wanna go to Westminster Abbey! 
BERIAL- I'm not picky. 
GABRIEL- Me either. 
ARGRATH- Tell you what; Berial and I will go to the Tower. Tzaph, you and Gabe go to Westminster. Then we'll meet outside the Houses of Parliament, or something. 
TZAPHIEL- Sounds rockin'. Gabe, let's go. 
GABRIEL- Oh, yes, "master"... 
*The Rivals wander off. The Traitors pop up from behind a conveniently placed bush* 
ABADDON- Fabius, you and Kharn go after Tzaphiel and Gabriel. Ahriman and I will follow Argrath and Berial. Remember, you'll meet up with your contact at the Tower. 
FABIUS- Muahahaha, he shall be the death of them both! 
ABADDON- Yes, quite. Ahriman! 
AHRIMAN- Yo! 
ABADDON- Onward! 
AHRIMAN- Ho! 
*Abaddon and Ahriman dramatically leap after Argrath and Berial. Fabius, wheeling Kharn in a wheelchair, trundle after Tzaphiel and Gabriel* 

*Meanwhile, on the bottom of the sea...* 
*A mysterious figure shifts on the seabed. They are shrouded in the inky blackness of the depths of the ocean, and stagger to their feet* 
MYSTERY FIGURE- Urgh... limbs *gasp* smashed... lungs *gasp* squashed... slight headache... spleen... still unaccounted for... can't keep *urgh* describing symptoms... must regain strength... must regain... POWER!!! 
*Mystery figure rises from the ocean in a coruscating halo of dark light and malign Chaos energy* 
MYSTERY FIGURE- MUAHAHAHA!!! TREMBLE WORLD, FOR MY BLASPHEMOUS REJUVENATION IS COMPLETE!!! ONCE AGAIN, I SHALL BE PLAGUE AND DECAY UPON THIS EARTH!!! FEAR ME, OH FEEBLE INHABITANTS OF... 
*pauses to read a nearby signpost* 
BEXHILL BEACH!!! MUAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA!!! *pause* .... yeah. 
*Random old couple look towards the darkling figure* 
OLD WOMAN- Who do you think that is, 'Arold? 
OLD MAN- Dunno Mabel... looks like one of them Chaos Warlords of Nurgle, or somesuch. 
OLD WOMAN- Ooo, I don't like those Chaos Warlords... always killin' and spreading unholy disease. Our Trisha had a spot of bother with one of 'em only the other week, and she said... 
MYSTERY FIGURE- SILENCE, FLESH-BLISTERS!!! 
OLD WOMAN- Politeness don't cost nothin', young man. Now apologise! 
MYSTERY FIGURE- BE QUIET, YOU HEINOUS HAG-BEAST!!! 
OLD WOMAN- Well I never! 
OLD MAN- 'Ere, now look 'ere... 
MYSTERY FIGURE- DO YOU KNOW WHERE I CAN FIND THE PLACE YOU CALL LONDON? SPEAK QUICKLY, 'LEST I EVISCERATE THEE AND FEED THEE THINE BOWELS!!! ... or pancreas *pause* ... yeah. 
OLD WOMAN- What's the magic word? 
MYSTERY FIGURE- WENCH, I KNOW COUNTLESS DARK INCANTATIONS!!! WITH BUT A WORD I CAN FLAY THE FLESH FROM THINE FACE, OR TRANSMUTE THINE BLOOD INTO CAUSTIC TAR!!! 
OLD WOMAN- Unless I hear a "please", we ain't telling you nothin'. 
MYSTERY FIGURE- OH FOR THE EYE'S SAKE... PLEASE? 
OLD WOMAN- That's better. Didn't hurt, did it? 
MYSTERY FIGURE- THOUGH MY MAGNIFICENT STATURE DOES NOT DISPLAY IT, MY SOUL HAST BEEN TORN IN TWAIN FOLLOWING SUCH PETTY PROTOCOL AND MORTAL NICETIES. 
*long pause* 
OLD MAN- Oh. 
OLD WOMAN- Would you like a sticky bandage? 
MYSTERY FIGURE- NAY!!! I DESIRE ONLY THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE WHEREABOUTS OF THE PLACE YOU CALL LONDON!!! 
OLD MAN- *gesturing vaguely over his shoulder* 'Coupla miles that way. 
MYSTERY FIGURE- AH, YOU FEEBLE FLESH-THINGS STILL BEND UNTO MINE WILL!!! FATHER NURGLE HAS NOT ABANDONED ME YET!!! 
OLD WOMAN- You don't have to shout, we're right here. 
MYSTERY FIGURE- *faltering* ERR... IT IS MORE... DRAMATIC!!! *pause* ... or something. 
OLD MAN- Never 'eard so much shouting in all me life. 
OLD WOMAN- Tsk, Chaos Warlords these days. Just a bunch of noisy hooligans! 
MYSTERY FIGURE- ERRR... I... WELL... YOU SEE... 
OLD MAN- No respect! 
OLD WOMAN- Our generation was better! 
OLD MAN- Back in my day... 
OLD WOMAN- I remember when... 
MYSTERY FIGURE- BE QUIET!!! DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU INSULT WITH YOUR ENDLESS TIRADES? 
OLD MAN- Who? 
MYSTERY FIGURE- I... AM... *thunderclouds roll in, sea becomes stormy and wild* DAAASLEAH CAAALIN DESAAAI!!! SCOURGE OF LIFE, BANE OF PURITY, DEFILER OF FANOGANE VIII, AND HERALD OF THE PLAGUES OF GREAT FATHER NURGLE!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! 
*long pause* 
OLD WOMAN- What did he say his name was? 
OLD MAN- I think he said Daniel. 
OLD WOMAN- Well, I didn't vote for 'im. 
*With a scream of rage, Dasleah slays the old couple and flies towards London* 
DASLEAH- SOON I SHALL HAVE REVENGE UPON TZAPHIEL FOR HIS BETRAYAL OF ME UPON THE FLIGHT TO THIS DESOLATE PLACE!!! NO BEING, MORTAL OR DAEMONIC, INSULTS DASLEAH AND LIVES TO TELL THE TALE!!! NO-OOONE!!! 
*pause* 
DASLEAH- God, I'm good at this. 

*Back with Tzaphiel and Gabriel, at Westminster Abbey* 
GABRIEL- This is the place. Pretty nice. 
TZAPHIEL- Indeed it is... indeed it is. A beautiful structure with a long and proud history, embodying faith, duty, and honour. 
*long pause* 
TZAPHIEL- Well, no time like the present. Gabe, pass me my Hymns of Pandemonium. 
GABRIEL- *handing over a huge book* I thought you'd never ask. 
TZAPHIEL- *flipping through the book* Let's see... what to summon... Catastrophes... Daemonettes... Desires... Elementals... Enigmas... Fiends... Flamers... Flesh Hounds... *mutter* a friggin' index would have been nice... *brightens up* ah, here we go... Furies. 
GABRIEL- Hallejulah. 
TZAPHIEL- Hallejulah indeed. Now then... I'll need a blood sacrifice... 
GABRIEL- *grabbing a nearby civilian and messily tearing him in half* Check. 
TZAPHIEL- ... And an Icon to summon them to. 
GABRIEL- *producing a big novelty foam hand declaring that "Furies Are #1!"* Check. 
*Tzaphiel puts on the big novelty foam hand and begins the summoning ritual* 
TZAPHIEL- Uuz'bhed'urruu Rghao'vsoouz'nrua... 
GABRIEL- Do we HAVE to use Furies to destroy Westminster? I mean, I have krak grenades... 
TZAPHIEL- Where's the fun- and effectiveness- in that? Furies are ten gallons of ass-kicking in a five gallon jug, yo'. 
GABRIEL- Point taken. So make with the sacrilege! 
TZAPHIEL- You made me lose my place! 
*Suddenly!* 
MYSTERY VOICE 1- That's not all you'll lose! 
MYSTERY VOICE- 2- Indeed, for a great deal more than your place will be lost! 
MYSTERY VOICE 1- Yeah! Like your life! Muahahahaha! 
TZAPHIEL- Who's that? 
GABRIEL- I dunno... but they're good. 
*Fabius wheels Kharn out from behind a pillar* 
FABIUS- Thought you could escape us, eh? 
TZAPHIEL- *shrugs* Owing to your utterly grotesque incompetence... yeah. 
FABIUS- Well, you were wrong! 
KHARN- DEAD wrong! 
GABRIEL- Damn, they're really good. 
TZAPHIEL- Yeah, they're really good... at being losers! 
GABRIEL- OO-RAR!!! 
MYSTERY VOICE 3- As amusing as I find all this witty banter... 
GABRIEL- Yeah! As amusing as you being a loser! 
TZAPHIEL- OO-RAR!!! 
FABIUS- Damn, they're stealing our bit... 
KHARN- Why I oughta... 
TZAPHIEL- Oughta what? Not be a loser? 
GABRIEL- OO-RAR!!! 
MYSTERY VOICE 3- If I hear one more "witty" phrase that would often be associated with either pro-wrestling or a cheerleader's hissy-fit, there's gonna be a whole lotta pain... *pause* for you. 
TZAPHIEL- Then show thyself! 
*The owner of Mystery Voice 3 steps out of hiding to reveal himself...* 
GABRIEL- Dum dum DUUUM!!! 
TZAPHIEL- You don't have to say "dum dum DUUUM"... it's implied. 
GABRIEL- Phooey. 
*The owner of Mystery Voice 3 is... Typhus! He seems different from before... he has a crapload of bionics and augmetic limbs* 
TYPHUS- Hiya. 
TZAPHIEL- It's Typhus! 
GABRIEL- I thought you died during the Eye of Terror campaign! 
TYPHUS- Nay, I was but grievously wounded. But my devout followers rebuilt me with bionics and strengthened my body! Now I am stronger than ever! Half Typhus, half android! HENCEFORTH, I SHALL BE KNOWN AS... TYPHOID!!! 
*long loaded pause* 
*longer...* 
*Tzaph and Gabe suppress a snigger* 
GABRIEL- Laaaame... 
TZAPHIEL- Typhoid? Pssh, I think I hear Influenza calling. 
TYPHOID- You leave my mother out of this! 
GABRIEL- *unlimbering accursed crozius* Don't sing it, bring it, mamma's boy. 
FABIUS- *readying Rod of Torment* Bile shall whoop your ass Bile-tastically. 
TZAPHIEL- *unsheathing Dark Blade* Hope you have a good doctor, 'cos I'm about to put the hurt on. 
KHARN- *flailing IV tubes in a threatening manner* IT'S THWACKY TIME!!! 
TYPHOID- Oh for Heaven's sake... if I wanted to hear stuff like this, I would have stayed at home and watched a pseudo-sport, like professional wrestling or Foxy Boxing. But, pain is pain... *readies Manreaper* 
*The five close in on each other, ready to strike, when suddenly!* 
GABRIEL- Dum dum DUUUM!!! 
TZAPHIEL- For the last time, it's implied! 
GABRIEL- Don't harsh my buzz, square. 
*Anyway... suddenly, a menacing winged figure flashes past, and settles on a nearby low wall* 
MYSTERY FIGURE- CEASE!!! 
ALL- WTF!? 
MYSTERY FIGURE- *pointing to Tzaphiel* YOU!!! TZAPHIEL!!! NOW YOU DIE!!! 
TZAPHIEL- I'm not Tzaphiel! Errr... *pointing to Gabriel* He is! 
GABRIEL- Hey, ass! 
TZAPHIEL- I'm just trying to divert daemonic rage onto you... geez... why can't you be a team player for once? 
MYSTERY FIGURE- ENOUGH!!! I AM TIRED OF YOUR BANAL DRIBBLINGS!!! 
*pause* 
TZAPHIEL- ... You said "banal"... right? 
MYSTERY FIGURE- ... YES. 
TZAPHIEL- God, that's a relief... 
MYSTERY FIGURE- ANYWAY... NOW YOU... 
TZAPHIEL- 'Cos, y'know, that would just be nasty otherwise... 
MYSTERY FIGURE- SHUT UP!!! 
TZAPHIEL- I mean, you probably wouldn't be the only one who'd get tired of it... I'd be downright annoyed... 
MYSTERY FIGURE- SILENCE!!! 
GABRIEL- Isn't it kind of contradictory to shout "silence"? 
MYSTERY FIGURE- ENOUGH!!! *huge eruption of dark energy and light* NOW THEN... TZAPHIEL!!! YOUR TREACHERY WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!! NO-ONE DRUGS ME, PUSHES ME OUT OF A PLANE, AND LIVES TO BOAST ABOUT IT!!! *pause* well... not for long anyway... yeah. 
TZAPHIEL- Wait! That must mean that you're... you're... 
MYSTERY FIGURE- YES TZAPHIEL... YES!!! 
TZAPHIEL- You're... *gasp*... Aunt Petunia? 
*pause* 
MYSTERY FIGURE- ... YES TZAPHIEL!!! IT IS ME, DAAASLEAH!!! *thunderclap* ... yeah. 
TZAPHIEL- That was my second guess. 
GABRIEL- Moron. 
DASLEAH- NOW TZAPHIEL, PREPARE TO PAY THE PRICE!!! 
*Tzaphiel and Dasleah leap to battle* 
FABIUS- So... what, are they ignoring us now? 
TYPHOID- I've had under a dozen lines, and the writer's cutting me out already? Laaame. 
KHARN- I like bagels. 

The fight of the century is under way! Dasleah versus Tzaphiel! Who will win? Who knows? Who cares? And what of Argrath and Berial, being pursued by Abaddon and Ahriman? All these questions and more will be answered in Traitors, Part Five!


----------



## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

"My Lord, I bring news."
Typhus Marburg paused in his study of the situation map of the dreary little planet his forces were engaged in ravaging. "Yes?"
"Lord. Starships have appeared in the outer system and are on course for a landing. They have been identified as elements of the Flesh Tearers." 
"Yeah? Tell them to sod off and find their own world. Tell 'em we got here first."
"Sire, you misunderstand. They are here to defend this world!"
"What! Why? It's a sorry state of affairs when the followers of Chaos start to defend the weakling Imperium from each other!"
"Um, Lord... the Flesh Tearers are a loyalist chapter."
"They are? With a name like that! Are you sure they're not one of ours?"
"Positive, My Lord."
"Have you been able to call for any assistance?"
"The Astropaths have contacted other forces nearby. Unfortunately this has also alerted other loyalist forces in the sector and they are also headed our way."
"Bugger. So who gets here first then?"
"The Alpha Legion, sire."
"It never rains, it only pours, hey?"
"Umm..."
"What!"
"The Alpha Legion is one of ours."
"It is?!"
"Yes."
"I'm confused. You're telling me that a mob called the 'Flesh Tearers' isn't one of ours but a mob called the - what was it again..."
"The Alpha Legion, sire."
"Right... a mob called the Alpha Legion is one of ours."
"That is correct, sire."
"So who else is showing up to this barney then?"
"The Blood Drinkers."
"One of ours?"
"One of theirs."
"OK."
"The Iron Warriors."
"One of theirs?"
"No. One of ours."
"Go figure."
"The Dark Angels."
"Now I've heard of them. Followers of Slaanesh aren't they?"
"No, I think you're thinking of The Fallen, sire. The Dark Angels are Loyalists too."
"Bugger. So who else then?"
"The Emperor's Children."
"Oh, that one's too easy. They're obviously loyalists with a name like that."
"Um, not exactly my Lord."
"Really?"
"Yes, Lord. They're one of ours too."
"This is silly. All the really evil sounding names are being used by weakling loyalists while it seems as though the forces of chaos have got the naff monikers. Are there any more of these I should know about?"
"A few, Lord."
"OK then, spell it out for me, starting with Loyalists that sound like traitors and then moving onto traitors that sound like Loyalists."
"I will attempt to do so, Lord. OK - the Loyalists that sound like traitors... the Marauders, Rampagers, Destroyers and Storm Lords (all White Scar second foundings in point of fact)."
"I like the sound of the Storm Lords. You sure they aren't one of ours?"
"Quite sure. Then there's the Blood Drinkers and the Flesh Tearers - both of which are Loyalist second founding of the Blood Angels."
"With names like that I'd always assumed they were more bone headed followers of the blood god."
"Not so far, My Lord. Then there's the Red Talons..."
"I thought they were renegade pirates."
"No Lord, that's the Red Corsairs."
"Oh. OK. Continue."
"The Brazen Claws are loyalists too."
"Good name for a Khornate force though isn't it?"
"Yes Lord. Then there's the Black Guard (not to be confused with the Black Legion which IS one of ours), the Revilers, and the Raptors."
"Hold on a minute! The Raptors? They're definitely ours. Hell we've got a small unit of them attached to our forces haven't we?"
"My Lord, those are the troops known as Raptors but there is also a loyalist legion with the same name."
"Must get a bit confusing for the loyalists then?"
"I imagine so, My Lord. There are also the Doom Eagles, the Silver Skulls, and the Iron Hands (not to be mistaken for the Iron Warriors, who are ours)."
"Bloody hell. Is that it?"
"There are also some lesser known chapters that also seem to cause occasional confusion."
"Such as..."
"The Doomfarers are one that our forces have occasionally encountered."
"Oh yeah. Those yoyos. So what about the Chaos forces that sound like loyalists then..."
"Well as mentioned earlier there are The Emperor's Children, The Iron
Warriors, the Thousand Sons, the Lunar Wolves (who changed their name to the Sons of Horus and then to the Black Legion)..." 
"Well at least they're easily IDed as one of ours now. The Black Legion eh? Now that's a proper name. Just postively oozes evil from every pore."
"Yes, Lord. To continue, there are also the Word Bearers, and the Alpha Legion."
"The Word Bearers? What kind of silly name is that for a Chaos Legion?"
"They used to be missionarys sire"
"We you'd think that once they switched to our side they'd change their name to something a little more in keeping with being evil mad men. I mean come on 'The Word Bearers'? It's a silly name."
"Yes my Lord"
"You know, I think the forces of Chaos should have proper Chaos names. There's no room for mistakes when you're called something like 'The World Eaters' or 'The Death Guard'..."
"Actually Lord, both those chapters had those names when they were loyalists."
"You're kidding."
"No, My Lord."
"Yeesh. I would have thought names like that would be a bit scary for the average imperial citizen. I mean "Yay we're being rescued by the World Eaters" just doesn't sound credible while "Aargh! Flee! It's the World Eaters" seems much more likely."
"Yes, My Lord. I believe the latter is more likely these days anyway."
"Makes no bloody sense at all."
"Yes, My Lord."
"Kill 'em all and let the Chaos Gods sort 'em out I say."
"Sounds like a completely reasonable approach to me, My Lord."



That one's from Starcraft universe:

LAWS OF COMBAT
A long time ago, around 2010 or so, a man with the last name of Raynor was born. During TGS (The Great Struggle), he made some of these comments. Then he almost died.

1. Friendly fire - isn't. 
2. Recoilless rifles - aren't. 
3. Suppressive fires - won't. 
4. You are not Superman; Marines and fighter pilots take note. 
5. A sucking chest wound is Nature's way of telling you to slow down. 
6. If it's stupid but it works, it isn't stupid. 
7. Try to look unimportant; the enemy may be low on ammo and not want to waste a bullet on you. 
8. If at first you don't succeed, call in a nuclear strike. 
9. If you are forward of your position, your artillery will fall short. 
10. Never share a bunker with anyone braver than yourself. 
11. Never go to bed with anyone crazier than yourself. 
12. Never forget that your weapon was made by the lowest bidder. 
13. If your attack is going really well, it's an ambush. 
14. The enemy diversion you're ignoring is their main attack. 
15. The enemy invariably attacks on two occasions: When they're ready. When you're not. 
16. No PLAN ever survives initial contact. 
17. There is no such thing as a perfect plan. 
18. Five second fuzes always burn three seconds. 
19. There is no such thing as an atheist in a bunker. 
20. A retreating enemy is probably just falling back and regrouping. 
21. The important things are always simple; the simple are always hard. 
22. The easy way is always spider mined. 
23. Teamwork is essential; it gives the enemy other people to shoot at. 
24. Don't look conspicuous; it draws fire. For this reason, it is not at all uncommon for aircraft carriers to be known as bomb magnets. 
25. Never draw fire; it irritates everyone around you. 
26. If you are short of everything but the enemy, you are in the combat zone. 
27. When you have secured the area, make sure the enemy knows it too. 
28. Incoming fire has the right of way. 
29. No combat ready unit has ever passed inspection. 
30. No inspection ready unit has ever passed combat. 
31. If the enemy is within range, so are you. 
32. The only thing more accurate than incoming enemy fire is incoming friendly fire. 
33. Things which must be shipped together as a set, aren't. 
34. Things that must work together, can't be carried to the field that way. 
35. Radios will fail as soon as you need air support. 
36. Radar tends to fail at night and in bad weather, and especially during both. 
37. Anything you do can get you killed, including nothing. 
38. Make it too tough for the enemy to get in, and you won't be able to get out. 
39. Tracers work both ways. 
40. If you take more than your fair share of objectives, you will get more than your fair share of objectives to take. 
41. When both sides are convinced they're about to lose, they're both right. 
42. Professional soldiers are predictable; the world is full of dangerous amateurs. 
43. Military Intelligence is a contradiction. 
44. Fortify your front; you'll get your rear shot up. 
45. Weather ain't neutral. 
46. If you can't remember, the Claymore is pointed towards you. 
47. Air defense motto: shoot 'em down; sort 'em out on the ground. 
48. 'Flies high, it dies; low and slow, it'll go.' 
49. The Cavalry doesn't always come to the rescue. 
50. Nuke is an area support weapon. 
51. Spider mines are equal opportunity weapons. 
52. Battle Cruisers are the ultimate close support weapon. 
53. Sniper's motto: reach out and touch someone. 
54. Killing for peace is like screwing for virginity. 
55. The one item you need is always in short supply. 
56. Interchangeable parts aren't. 
57. It's not the one with your name on it; it's the one addressed "to whom it may concern" you've got to think about. 
58. When in doubt, empty your magazine. 
59. The side with the simplest uniforms wins. 
60. Combat will occur on the ground between two adjoining maps. 
61. If the Platoon Sergeant can see you, so can the enemy. 
62. Never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie down, never stay awake when you can sleep. 
63. The most dangerous thing in the world is a Second Lieutenant with a map and a compass. 
64. Exceptions prove the rule, and destroy the battle plan. 
65. Everything always works in your Command Center, everything always fails in the Colonel's Command Center. 
66. The enemy never watches until you make a mistake. 
67. One enemy soldier is never enough, but two is entirely too many. 
68. A clean (and dry) set of BDU's is a magnet for mud and rain. 
69. The worse the weather, the more you are required to be out in it. 
70. Whenever you have plenty of ammo, you never miss. Whenever you are low on ammo, you can't hit the broad side of a barn. 
71. The more a weapon costs, the farther you will have to send it away to be repaired.
72. The complexity of a weapon is inversely proportional to the IQ of the weapon's operator. 
73. Field experience is something you don't get until just after you need it. 
74. No matter which way you have to march, its always uphill. 
75. If enough data is collected, a board of inquiry can prove anything. 
76. For every action, there is an equal and opposite criticism. (in boot camp) 
77. Airstrikes always overshoot the target, artillery always falls short. 
78. When reviewing the radio frequencies that you just wrote down, the most important ones are always illegible. 
79. Those who hesitate under fire usually do not end up KIA or MIA. 
80. The tough part about being an officer is that the troops don't know what they want, but they know for certain what they don't want. 
81. To steal information from a person is called plagiarism. To steal information from the enemy is called gathering intelligence. 
82. The weapon that usually jams when you need it the most is the M60. 
83. The perfect officer for the job will transfer in the day after that billet is filled by someone else. 
84. When you have sufficient supplies & ammo, the enemy takes 2 weeks to attack. When you are low on supplies & ammo the enemy decides to attack that night. 
85. The newest and least experienced soldier will usually win the Medal of Honor. 
86. A Purple Heart just proves that were you smart enough to think of a plan, stupid enough to try it, and lucky enough to survive. 
87. Raynor was a grunt. 
88. Beer Math --> 2 beers times 37 men equals 49 cases. 
89. Body count Math --> 3 guerrillas plus 1 probable plus 2 pigs equals 37 enemies killed in action. 
90. The bursting radius of a hand grenade is always one foot greater than your jumping range. 
91. All-weather close air support doesn't work in bad weather. 
92. The combat worth of a unit is inversely proportional to the smartness of its outfit and appearance. 
93. The crucial round is a dud. 
94. Every command which can be misunderstood, will be. 
95. There is no such place as a convenient foxhole. 
96. Don't ever be the first, don't ever be the last and don't ever volunteer to do anything. 
97. If your positions are firmly set and you are prepared to take the enemy assault on, he will bypass you. 
98. If your ambush is properly set, the enemy won't walk into it. 
99. If your flank march is going well, the enemy expects you to out flank him. 
100. Density of fire increases proportionally to the curiousness of the target. 
101. Odd objects attract fire - never lurk behind one. 
102. The more stupid the leader is, the more important missions he is ordered to carry out. 
103. The self-importance of a superior is inversely proportional to his position in the hierarchy (as is his deviousness and mischievousness). 
104. There is always a way, and it usually doesn't work. 
105. Success occurs when no one is looking, failure occurs when the General is watching. 
106. The enemy never monitors your radio frequency until you broadcast on an unsecured channel. 
107. Whenever you drop your equipment in a fire-fight, your ammo and grenades always fall the farthest away, and your canteen always lands at your feet. 
108. As soon as you are served hot chow in the field, it rains. 
109. Never tell the Platoon Sergeant you have nothing to do. 
110. The seriousness of a wound (in a fire-fight) is inversely proportional to the distance to any form of cover. 
111. Walking point = sniper bait. 
112. Your bivouac for the night is the spot where you got tired of marching that day. 
113. If only one solution can be found for a field problem, then it is usually a stupid solution. 
114. If you ever volunteer for anything, it usually ends up getting you killed. 
115. General Duke wears a garter. 
116. All or any of the above combined.


----------



## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

Things you don't wanna hear when you're in the Imperial Guard: 

"We're outta ammo?" 

"CHARGE!!!"" 

Khorne Beserkers good fighters? Us Cadians can handle them!" 

"You mean you FORGOT the Leman Russes?" 

"Why are the Dark Angels surrounding us?" 

"Welcome to the Cata- PRIVATE!!!! THERE'S A WRINKLE IN YOUR BANDANA!!!! IRON IT OUT, THEN GIVE ME 500 LAPS AROUND THE BASE!!" 

"Funny, the Ogryns don't smell as bad when dead." 

"Hey, a grenade without a pin!" 

"You just had to forget the gas for the chimera, didn't you?" 

"You know, guys...Chaos isn't SO bad" 

"Fix bayonets!" 

"Whaddya mean orbital bombardment?" 

"We missed our shooting phase?" 

"Hey, Sarge, this thing just fell out of the sky, it's all fleshy and squishy, and there are scratching noises inside. 

"Colonel: "We're gonna die! We should all flee!"
Commissar: "Just this once, I agree with you!""

"Extermina-what?" 

"Hehe, that's a good practical joke, plugging the tank's guns... let's stay really close to it so we can see the looks on their faces!" 

"Our regiment has been assigned to fight in the Third Armageddon War? Sounds fun!" 

"Sweet! And I get to be one of them? Man, this is so cool! I can't wait! Hey, what are the Last Chancers anyway?" 

"Boy, I hope those artillery guys got the right coordinates...""Hah! Those Chaos dopes spelled 'surrender' with only one R!" 

"I'm your new commanding officer. Now, this is my first command, so go easy on me, okay?" 

"See? Lasguns can take anything. Drop it, throw it in the swamp, use it as a 
club, and it still...uh oh." 

"Well, we're low on ammo, our radio's busted, and we've got genestealers coming in on all sides. Let's charge them!" 

"What do you mean that the sisters of battle have taken a vow of chasity?" 

Comanding officer: How did you guys find basic training? Hard? Unlucky, i had a blast flicking spitballs at Colonal J. Tightass during our survival Techneques lessons!

Theres a wraithlord on the board...

Sir, the necrons are here, they have a monolith, and we only have 30 lascannons.

Welcome recruit, we you be sharing bunks with Private R. Sole

Comrade: Aww look, a cute doggy.
You: That aint no doggy, thats a hormagaunt!

So whats with these Torches? What do you mean there guns?!

Radio of Colonal:
Careful of the mine feild, the Co-ords are *Crackly Radio interuption* 
BANG!!!

"Why is my gun just a cardboard mock up?"

"I cant get in that chimera, its already on fire!"

"What do you mean take cover behind the bodies of the 423rd? We're the 423rd?"

"So what does this artillery locator beacon do?"

"When our moto says "Nobody walks away" Does it refer to them or us?"

"How can 9 minutes be an intensive training course?"

"You want me to put on this flak jacket? But theres a hole in it, and the hole is stained with blood!"

"When you say that the 422nd brought us fresh supplies of food, did you mean the 422nd were our fresh supply of food?" 

"Genestealers?"

"Holy poo! these really are flashlights!" 

"Hey, we have the same Inititive as the Salamanders, we can beat 'em!"

"Flashlight..Warmer..Cigarette lighter...Stun...Hey!..Where's the kill setting on this Lasgun??"

"Why are they giving out Oven Mits with those Plasma guns?.."

"Join the army they say, see the many worlds they say, I'd rather be working in the kitchen than earning my pay shining lights at Khorne Berserkers.."

"Why can't we fire before the artillery?..We are the Elites damn'it, we are the glory boys, the ones who get the spiffy targeters.."

"Hey..Isn't that OUR Leman Russ?..Then why does it have that funny star on the front?"

-"Forget THIS! *sound of las-pistol hitting the ground* Come on guys! FOR KHORN!" 
Or better... *Sound of a liqour bottle being opened* "For Slannesh!" 
Or maybe even... Sound of projectile vomiting "FOR NURGLE!" 

Aha! Get that spotlight over on them, if our flashlights can kill, then it must be a template weapon!!! 

"What does 'victory' mean?"

"Stop shining that thing at me!"

"Why's the plasma gun on..there aren't any ene-"

"So,you say your from the eye huh...nice powerfist,whats that growing on your neck?"

"Theres good news and bad news,the good news is we're going to war,the bad news is,we're the only ones going and we don't get any more supplies" 

"Hey look! The Eldar are using girls! *much laughter* "HEY stop screaming in my ear!" 

Plaque on a Lasgun: "Warning, can trigger epilepsy" 

'Warning: Do not look down barrel of Lasgun, may cause eye damage' 

"Sweet, that one Terminator only has a scythe. It says something, Man...something. Eh, he's headed this way, he'll be an easy kill."

"Dude, check out that one guy. His whole head is bald except for that really long top knot on top. He's a poser I bet."

"Hey, the Commisar said it was only going to be a bug hunt. How big can they get?"

"Dude, all we have to do is hold out till they transmit the codes to viral bomb the enemy!"

"Hey, I've been reassigned to Catachan? Anyone know where that is or what it's like?"

"Cool, I've been reassigned to fight with Fleet Leviathan. I've always wanted to see how the navy fights."

"Why's the forest moving?"

"Dear mom, it's very boring here. All I do is guard an archeaological team on this dead moon. Neat ruins but there's nothing to do, hold on a minute, somebody is yellin for me...." 

"We're surrounded on all sides. This simplifies our problem. CHARGE!"

Space Marine Captain: Well the Chaos forces are massing for an offesive. and frankly we just dont have the numbers or the psykers!
Inquisiter: Well, I'd like to help yah but, there just aren't enough grey nights to go around.
Space Marine: Well, there is one thing we can do.
Inquisitor: Oh Yah!
Both look at an imperial guardsmen playing cards with his buddies
Space Marine: Well, we shall have to initiate Operation Human Shield!

"Alright men, were goin ta war... I wont lie to yah, I'll be hidin with mah heavy weapons teams and the tanks... but i did get you these; pre written "Don't Worry I'm going to war letters," flash lights, under powered laser rifle, Diapers, and me and the commissars took the liberty of impregnating each of your wives an girlfriends so we could leave quicker."

"Abbaddon is coming this way, but don't worry, the commissar and the colonel both said not to worry as the might of the Emperor stood with us and they would pick up some extra donuts at the shop when they get back."

"Well our orders are in, we are to participate in Operation: Let them Tire Out Butchering the Guardsmen."

"Note to Jimmy R. Fielklestien: Quit praying to me, I dont care if you make it home to see your family. Personaly I enjoy watching you guys get annihilated. No, I will not be there to help you in the moment of truth. If you want help, talk to abbadon, he's much nicer than you'd think. Screw You; The God-Emperor of Humanity Bob Smith."

"The meaning of life is, your born, you join the guard, you die with 4000 other useless dweebs who couldm't make the adeptus astartes."

"What do ya mean we all have to start in reserve?"

"Did you say cityfight with khorne/nids/BAs/SW/DE/Orks...."

"Make an armour save?"

"Nightfight and no searchlights modeled?"

"Kroot can screen those crisis suits with rail guns?"

"Your unit has 2 flamers in it?"

"Take and hold?"

"What do you mean the comissar is falling back?"

"Auspex? What are the chances he has lictors..." 

"Ok, we're supposed to advance under cover of the tanks.....wait, what do you mean? The tanks can't fire if they move? And they're supposed to be covering US?"

Commissar: "Welcome to your new warzone....you can rest when you've taken those trenches over there." (Commissar points at a dim line of brown about 20 miles away) "We start here. Good luck, and I'll see you when you get back."

"They're only Tau....we can shoot better than they can!"

"Ah, yes. Hive battles are FUN....."

"Whadda ya mean, those Orks have a basilisk? Isn't that one of OUR tanks? Oh, it is.....so why are they using it?"

"I've been assigned to the 13th Legion? Hey, they've got a great reputation.....Wait, isn't that a PENAL Legion?"

Commissar: "Here, take this backpack over to that trench."
Guardsman: "Why, what's it going to do?"
Commissar: "Its a tactical nuclear weapon.....very small yeild."
Guardsman: "Ok, how's it work?"
Commissar: "You pull this string, and run. You'll have about five seconds."
Guardsman: "Five seconds. And how am I supposed to get away?"
Commissar: "You're not!" 

"Ten hut, men i have two comments. One I am being promoted so i will nolonger command you past today in two hours. Two your being shipped out to The Eye in one hour and forty five minutes" 

"hmm tyranids seem weak we dont even need our guns grab your nives boys!"

(from sergeant to captain, through comm-link)
"Sir, the Grey Knights have just run past us screaming. Awaiting orders."

(From Chimera Driver) 
"Hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!"

"Cmon guys, that big thing over there with claws is NOTHING, we can take him!!"

"were in a hellhound? sounds cool..."

*sees a Wraithlord for the first time and grabs combat knife* "You think you're tough!?"



What's the difference between a Bolter and a Lasgun? 
Bolters need safety catches, lasgun's don't. 



Three commanders are lined up and arguing who has the braves troops in a hanger. A Blood Angel commander, a Imperial Guard Commander and a Sister of Battle Canoness. The Sister of Battle orders one of her troops to jump out the air lock. She dose without hesitation. The Blood Angle Comander orders one of his troops to do the same. The Blood Angle roars and runs out the air lock screeming. The Imperial Guard Commander orders one of his own to do the same. The trooper replys, "SIR, NO SIR!" The Imperial Guard comander turns to to the others and says, "Now THAT is courage." 



Some alternative list of Space Marine Commandments:

Space Marine Commandments: 
1. Thou shalt not refer to the Adeptus Soritas as "Bolter Bitches," nor shalt thou go anywhere near our sisters during the time of the "Red Rage," lest thou wishes to be the first human to enter orbit without the aid of a shuttle. 
2. Orks are not "cute." 
3. Thou shalt not make jokes about the Imperial Guard's weapons. 
4. Thou shalt not replace the Librarian's staff with a magic wand. 
5. Thou shalt not tip the Terminators over during battle. 
6. Thou shalt not do Spock impersonations around Eldar. 
7. C-3P0 is not a Necron ambassador. 
8. You shall not dare others to eat Squigs. 
9. No, you cannot "take the Titan for a spin." 
10. Thou shalt not use thy multi-meltas to light campfires. (in a similar manner, thou shalt not use the Terminator Captain's chainfist to open tins of baked beans) 
11. Thou shalt not bribe the Inquisitor to bring down Exterminatus on your ex-wife. 
12. Thou shalt not refer to the Rhino transports as "pimp wagons," nor shalt thou use the phrase, "If the Rhino be rockin, don't come a knockin." 
13. The Chapter Master is not a "drag." 
14. Thou shall not use Power Swords to cut your food. 
15. Thou shall not ask a Sister if you might "donate some of your own Gene-Seed." 
16. Thou shall not throw soap at nurglings. 
17. Thou shalt not put a "kick me" sign on the Golden Throne. 
18. Thou shalt not refer to the Machine Spirit as "Cruise Control". 
19. Thou shalt not stick a 'Honk if you think I'm sexy' sticker on the Sisters' Rhino. 
20. Thou shalt not honk if thy sees a sticker saying 'Honk if you think I'm sexy' on a Sister's Rhino. 
21. Thou shalt not unplug the Golden Throne just "for laughs". 
22. Thou shalt not make the Emperor read your palms, or call upon him as "Miss Cleo". 



How many space marines does it take to screw in a lightbulb? 
A: 100, one to screw it in and 99 to praise the Emperor. 

Q: How many Guardsmen does it take to screw in a light bulb? 
A: None, their lasguns work fine. 

Q: How many Wraithlords does it take to screw in a light bulb? 
A: Just one, if you use THREE, we will all claim it is beardy. 

Q: How many inquisitors does it take to screw in a lightbulb? 
A: Three. One to screw it in, one to outlaw lightbulbs, and one to deny the existence of lightbulbs. 

Q: How many Tau does it take to screw in a light bulb? 
A: They don't screw them in. Their helmets are equipped with infra-red, heat and motion scanners along with camera linked to their drones which means they have to do no work at all themselves. 

Q: How many Squats does it take to screw in a light bulb? 
A: Oh, wait. GW doesn't support them any more. 

Q: How many Forgeworld light bulbs does it take to light a room? 
A: Just one, but it is a deluxe halogen bulb at 250 watts and costs $87. 



101 Uses for a Lasgun 
Warming soup. 
When left on, a seat warmer in your Leman Russ. 
Disco effects/pyrotechnics. 
Cigarette lighter. 
Changing T.V channels. 
Selling to get funds for a better weapon. 
Throwing at the enemy (may do more damage) 
Using for grave marking for IG troops. 
Collecting (eventually you might have enough to do some damage)Paperweight. 
Skeet shooting. 
A cooking utensil.Looking slightly menacing. 
Strapping onto a Boltgun as a laser sight. 
Annoying friends by shining it in their eyes repeatedly 
Burning ants 



What the Emperor thinking... 

"39,002 bottles of Emperor's Tears on the Wall, 39,002 bottles of Emperor's Tears, take one down, pass them around, 39,002 bottles of Emperor's Tears on the wall. 39,001 bottles. . ." 

"You know, I've had this itch for 3,435 years, right at the base of my neck. . ." 

"Why can't they hook up a playstation 40,000 in here?" 

"Damn, my foot's asleep again." 

"You know, when I said sacrifice 1000 souls to me daily, they must have misunderstood. I actually meant sacrifice 1000 COALS. It's so cold in this huge throne room..." 



Two guardsman are yomping off to war when one says to the other: 
"Hey sarge, this lasgun is heavy. I wish we had something lighter."
The Sarge, being a grizzled veteran of many wars, let's the man in on a secret: 
"You could kill grots just by pointing your finger at them and shouting: ABANG ABANG ABANG! Because the grots know that when they hear that they are gonna die and so fall over dead to save themselves the bother."
"You must be joking Sarge," - the soldier replies and thinks nothing more of it.

War comes. The guardsman runs out of ammo. 

In desperation he points his finger and shapes it like a gun. Feeling rather stupid, he shouts ABANG ABANG ABANG! And to his surprise he sees whole squads of gretchin die.
He proceeds to slaughter all of the gretchin horde with the exception of one grot that is charging straight towards him. 
He shouts ABANG ABANG ABANG! but nothing happens. 
Rather confused he shouts louder ABANG ABANG ABANG!
The next thing the guardsman remembers is being smashed flat by some awesome force, every bone in his body is crushed.

The last thing he remembers is a small high pitched grotty voice squeeling:
ATANK ATANK ATANK! ATANK ATANK ATANK! 



Why did the Catachan cross the road? 
To get out of mortar friendly fire.

What is a berserker of Khorne to a Catachan?
Teddy Bear.

Six Catachans and their Sergeant enter a bar. They proceed to get into a bar fight with some Dark Angels. 
"We'll beat 'em" - the Sarge says. Then politely asks the Space Marines to step outside and opens the door for them. Needless to say, nothing of the fine establishment was left when the marine hit the trip wire. 



Things you will NEVER see in the 40k universe:
Space Marine Girl Scouts
Sisters of battle Fire Engine
Sane World Eaters
A Space Marine carrying a dead gretchin as a battle-trophy
A gretchin carrying a battle-trophy
A Vegetarian Blood Angel
An Eldar way-stone at the Lost & Found
A crying Space Marine (oops! sorry, Lamenters
A Night Lord sunbathing
A plague marine polishing his armour
A Tau giving a high-five
A retreating Death Company Space Marine (if you DO see this, you're probably doomed)
A Khorne Berzerker leaving a skull behind
The Golden Throne caretakers on strike
An assassin, before it's too late...
A remote controlled Necron
A meeting at the BDA (Blood Drinkers Anonymous, Blood Angels only)
Games Workshop charging what models are ACTUALLY worth



Death Guard Motto:
"A sickness a day keeps the Imperials away, and death at bay, or so they say."



The Thousand Sons have always suffered two problems: They're all brothers, and none of them have visible bodies...
Thousand Son 1: Yo bro!
Thousand Son 2: Hi!
Thousand Son 3: Hi!
Thousand Son 2: Hey, he was talkin' to me!
Thousand Son 3: No, he was talkin to ME!
Thousand Son 4: No, me!
Thousand Son 5: Me!
Thousand Son 6: Me! Me!
Thousand Son 2 Tell 'em, Hydraxus! You meant me, right?
Thousand Son 3: You meant me, didn't you, Hydraxus?
Thousand Son 7: I'm not Hydraxus! I was talkin to my brother over here!
Thousand Son 8: Who, me?
Thousand Son 9: No! You were talkin to me, weren't you, Malevolus?
Thousand Son 1: I'm not Malevolus! I'm Hydraxus!



Tau Water Caste Leader: "Those big guys in black armour are a bit tough, aren't they. I will go and negociate a treaty with their commander. It is that guy in that large armour, with the long sword and the big claw, right? How do they call him, Aba...?"



50 Ways to Annoy your Opponent

1. Bring a hand puppet. Question it constantly as to what is the best course of action.
2. Bring a small model coffin with undertakers. Everytime a model dies, escort it off the battlefield and give it model funeral. Remember to hum the funeral theme tune.
3. Bring a falsified rulebook ( hours of fun ).
4. Shave your head. Paint your skin green. Wear a nose ring. Grunt a lot.
5. Flip a coin at the start of the game. After observing the outcome, claim that you have won the game. Look upset if your opponent denies this. Sulk.
6. Bring 20 printed pages of notes and intellectual-looking glasses. Refuse to let your opponent look at them. Refer to them throughout the game. Speak aloud as you read- "he's gone there, so contingency plan 8a means that I should..."
7. Insist opponent rolls all your dice for you. Complain and insult your opponent if you get any bad rolls.
8. Before the game, do a little dance and motion to the gods. Curse your opponent dramatically.
9. Arrive before your opponent. Set up your army and then take the other side of the table. Act as if you are expecting to play with your opponent's army.
10. Add a spring loading system to your cannon. Bring lots of ball bearings.
11. Bring a plastic kid's sword and 'challenge' your opponent. If he refuses, claim you have won the game through his forfeit.
12. Play dead if your general dies.
13. Bring a Land-raider model from 40K. Leave it sitting conspicuously on your side of the table. Make cryptic references to the power of laser cannon in WHFB.
14. Complain that you don't think you can trust your hero.
15. Act as if you are a sports commentator. Commentate on the game. Incessantly.
16. Ask politely if your opponent wouldn't kill your general. Explain that its his birthday.
17. Bring a smoke machine. Insist on recreating the "fog of war".
18. Sacrifice a goblin to Mork before the game. Saw off its head with a craft knife.
19. Arrange models in a diorama in the middle of the battle. Take photos for a "battle report."
20. Sharpen your goblins' spears before the game with a craft knife. Grin widely.
21. Cackle diabolically. "The World is mine! Nothing can stop me now!"
22. State before the game that you are playing for the title of the champion of the universe.
23. Feel the personal loss of every soldier. "Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him well."
24. Lament the woes of war loudly. Faint when a model dies.
25. Add sound FX. Kaboom!
26. Ask if you can have TV rights to the game.
27. Just to surprise your opponent, agree amicably with and compliment your opponent!
28. Declare that you are opposed to the senseless destruction of our forests. Refuse to let him kill your treemen. Refuse to let him move through woods.
29. Insist on a lunch break for your troops. Bring a model Mr. Whippy Van.
30. Explain that you are a pacifist. Call off the game immediately.
31. Order your miniatures in your best Sergeant-Major voice. "Quick march, on the double- hut!"
32. Ask if your opponent is opposed to nuclear warfare. Carry a small spherical device. Give no other reasons.
33. Wear a crown. Say that you are the "Lord of the Galaxy". Get a horde of admirers to cheer you on.
34. Bring a stuffed, shaved poodle. Say it is your mascot.
35. Grow a Hitler moustache and wear a swastika. 'Discipline' your troops if they fail to salute you.
36. Cheer on your miniatures.
37. Hide under the table at the start of the game. Make your opponent drag you out. Speak in a nervous whisper. Confide in him that you are scared of his troops.
38. Leave a false army list lying around. Snatch it back angrily if your opponent starts to read it, but leave it visible.
39. Pull out an ace surreptitiously ( but obviously ) from your sleeve during the magic phase. Look pleased. Try to play it.
40. Keep a deck of Magic the Gathering cards handy. When you are told it is "the magic phase" bring out the cards and start to shuffle them. Ask if he wants to cut your deck.
41. Speak in Skaven. Neek- Neek!
42. Tell him you've brought weighted dice. Complain about the uselessness of modern technology when you start to roll ones.
43. Bring a lamp. Rub it and make three wishes before the game. Look at your opponent accusingly if they don't immediately come true. Ask him if he's used it.
44. Ask what year it is. Ask where you are. Ask what game you are going to play. If he says warhammer, bring out an antique mallet and hit him with it. Smile a corny grin.
45. Make references to a spy/traitor in his army.
46. Don't place your wizard on the board at the start of the game. At the end of your deployment, use a small explosive device to create a smoke screen and place down the wizard behind it while you yell, "poof!". When the smoke dissipates, say, "Tadaa!"
47. Have a history written for every trooper. Start a family feud.
48. Poor cheese sauce all over your opponent's army. Complain that it is cheesy.
49. Come with an army painted completely flora purple. Wear dark glasses.
50. Attempt to bribe your opponent's characters. Turn away quickly if your opponent looks at you questioningly. Deny everything.



50 MORE Ways to Annoy Your Opponent

1. Refer to your miniatures only by their first name.
2. Refer to his miniatures only by their first name.
3. Try to bribe his units over to your side.
4. Three words: Pastel Color Scheme.
5. Rent advertising space on your unit banners.
6. Offer your opponent the chance to surrender before the battle starts.
7. Dress in character.
8. Perform a play by play commentary in a Howard Cossell voice.
9. Speak only in third person.
10. Use huge brass dice. Roll them dangerously close to your opponent's figures.
11. Use only the little red dice from Warhammer Quest.
12. Only roll one die at a time.
13. Play Britney Spears. Insist that is it "battle music." Put it on repeat.
14. Name all your characters after obscure Hungarian royalty. Become annoyed if your opponent fails to notice.
15. Claim your army is comprised of all women. When pressed, explain they are all in disguise as to not get kicked out of the army.
16. Place a hammer on the table before the battle starts. Explain it is there to insure loyalty.
17. Quote Sun Tzu often, but only irrelevantly.
18. Every time one of his miniatures has unrestricted LOS to a target, say 'check'.
19. Suggest obviously suicidal tactics to your opponents. Explain that 'that's what Custer would do'.
20. Perform a rousing speech to your troops before the battle. Pose like Mussolini at the end.
21. Secretly replace your opponent's miniatures one at a time with miniatures from other games.
22. Claim your miniatures are proxied for another regiment, though that has no bearing on game play whatsoever.
23. Place all of your infantry on individual monster bases.
24. Flock your bases with sand. Do not use glue.
25. Take a halftime break to play with your Blood Bowl cheerleaders.
26. In rules disputes, reference on Hoyle's book of games.
27. Place NASCAR-like ads all over your vehicles.
28. Demand to change table sides at the halfway mark.
29. Use Play-doh miniatures. When one is killed, pound it into the table with your fist angrily.
30. When your figure reaches the opponent's table side, demand it be kinged.
31. Measure distances only with a yardstick.
32. On a bad roll, swear a blue streak. Use only obscenities approved Judge Dredd.
33. Sob uncontrollably while removing casualties.
34. When you win, dump a tub of Gatorade on your commander.
35. Include the word 'whoopass' on your army list as often as possible.
36. Don't move your army. Don't fire. Flee when charged.
37. Proxy a unit of O-scale cows for your commander's bodyguard. Don't forget to give them weapons.
38. Converts all wheeled models into lowriders. Including cannons and chariots.
39. Try to play multiple games at once like Gary Kasparov.
40. Discuss tactics with your troops. Become argumentative.
41. Four more words: Regis Philbin paint scheme.
42. In a rules dispute, check 1st, 2nd and 3rd Edition 40k Rulebooks, "just to make sure the rules don't change in each book."
43. Use a paintball gun to remove casualties. For both sides.
44. Write army list in pig latin and binary.
45. Fuzzy dice.
46. Start each game with the national anthem.
47. Have an inner monologue during the game. Digress frequently.
48. During your opponent's turn, yodel.
49. Each turn replace your commander with a new figure.
50. After a good die roll, do a victory dance and spike the die.
51. Write battle report during game. Take at least five minutes to write information between die rolls.



A Pretorian commander, who has only recently been transferred to a outpost on a other planet gets a tour through the camp by a corperal. At the end of the tour the comander notices that a grox is tied to the barracks of the men. "Why do you chaps have a grox tied to the barracks?" He asked. "Well." The corperal said. "When the men are lonely and need some attention they use the grox to get to their needs." It didn't bother the commander just as long as it was good for the morale. But after several months the commander began to feel the urges. "Bring in the grox!" He commanded. The corperal braught the grox in and the commander grabbed a chair and did some things with the grox that almost made the corperal throw up. After the commander was done he asked the corperal how the men do it. The corperal replied with: "Well sir, we moslty use the grox to go to the nearby town to visit the girls there." 



An Imperial Guardsmen's Ten Commandments

1. Thou shall not take sick leave while having Sisters Of Battle In the next Camp.
2. Thou shall not cut his or her hair with bayonet.
3. Thou shall not put graffiti on Space Marine's equipment.
4. Thou shall not replace a Space Marines bolter with a las-gun.
5. Thou shall not use a grenades pin as an earring.
6. Thou shall not experiment with frag grenades.
7. Thou shall not refer to Space Marines as Asstartes.
8. Thou shall not play with flamers.
9. Thou shall not refer to Space Marines as Bucking Broncos.
10. On the fear of his or her life. Thou shall not lie to an officer in the presence of a Psyker and Commissar.



An Ork, Space Marine and Eldar are walking down the road. They see a Chaos portal that has a sign on it. It says: 'say what is true or be sucked in'. The Space Marine says: "I think I'm the bravest" and walks past safely, the Eldar says: "I think I'm the most agile" and walks past safely. The Ork says: "Me thinks..." and gets sucked into the portal.



Tales from the Imperial Guard
Recruit: Seargeant, My grenade didn't work!
Seargeant: You forgot to pull out the pin.
Trooper: Lieutenent, I found this pin, but there's no
grenade attached
Lieutenent: I-
[Tank behind him explodes]



Uses for an Imperial Guardsman's Bayonet

•A dandy can opener 
•cutting your vegetables 
•mugging the guys in the camp next to you 
•prop swords 
•pantsing your commander 
•looking like a thug 
•fighting grots (still may not work) 
•a reflective surface for signalling 
•shaving (use whipped cream from rations with it) 
•quick and easy haircuts 
•a belt buckle 
•commiting suicide (might work if you try hard enough) 
•gardening 



That one's from a completely different world (WHFB), but still funny:

A lesson in Khazalid (The Launguage of the Dwarfs) 

Today we shall learn about Important Dwarfish Phrases:
Krut : A discomferting diseise contacted from mountain goats
Donglitz : The parts of a dwarf that are impposible to scratch
Boga : A candle which goes out unexpetedly, plunging a tunnel into darkness
Wazzok A dwarf who has exchanged gold for something of little value or no worth. A foolish or gullible dwarf.
Chuf A piece of cheese a miner keeps under his hat in case of emergancies.

Now you have learnt well the dwarven tongue. You too can commucate with the greatest race in the old world!



A lot of people say the lasgun is the worst piece of equipment in the universe. This is not so. Check out this "true" account.

One battle Jim the guardsman's unit is wiped out except him. Jim suffers an attack of common sense (or a failed leadership check; the details are fuzzy) and bolts for the nearest cover. Unfortunately he barrels headlong into a Chaos space marine holding a plasma pistol.

"Wait don't kill me yet", says Jim: "let me show you a trick." The Chaos space marine agrees and Jim promptly pulls out a cigar. He puts it into his mouth and uses his lasgun to light it.

"Pah! That's nothing. I can do that!" - says the Chaos space marine. So Jim hands him a cigar. The marine puts it into his mouth and then puts his plasma pistol to the cigar. He pulls the trigger and promptly blows his head off. Jim swaggers off back to base to have a well deserved cheeseburger.

This is just one example of a lasguns awesome and devastating power.



Best Uses for 40k Races:

Eldar - Road Cones.
Tau - That robot butler you always wanted in your room.
Imperial Guard - Not useful at all.
Space Marine - Personel Protection (just say you are the emperor's cousin).
Chaos Space Marine -That bully you never liked. I think you know where I am going.
Sisters of Battle - Are you thinking what I am thinking?
Dark Eldar - All those goth people that like pain.
Orks - Maybe grots will do anything for a cookie.
Necrons - I really can't think of anything unless you have a large terminator collection.
Tyranids - Turn this bug loose in the resturant you don't like.
Demonhunters - That semi-freaky phsycic kid at school most likely named Dean.



A squad of sisters of battle were all being inserted by drop ship.
The male pilot comes on the radio and says "We are just entering the system now and will be landing at base alpha zero zero in an hour.
the pilot forgets to switch off the intercom and turns to his male co-pilot and asks, "so what are you going to do when weve landed?"
The co-pilot says "well firstly im gunna have a HUGE dump, 3 day anti-grav. flights don't do my bladder any good, then im gunna go see that new lt., you know, the one with the dark hair and huge breasts, take her out, wine her, dine her, then im gunna take her to my quarters...." and then proceeded to go into graphical detail of the nights animal-type loving.
The new lt., horrified at the detail spewing from the speakers about various uses for the butt of the co-pilots plas-pistol, runs down the aisle to switch off the intercom, trips over a boltgun, and lands flat on her face.
A new recruit sitting opposite turns and says "whho! calm down Maam! He's gotta have a **** first!"


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