<.<
>.>
Oh shit.... They've found me.
Warhammer 40K: The Chaos Dozen
Moderator: LadyTevar
YOU!!!!Rogue 11 wrote:<.<
>.>
Oh shit.... They've found me.
POST MORE FIREWARRIOR!!!
Or else
Rogue11
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Chris OFarrell
- Durandal's Bitch
- Posts: 5724
- Joined: 2002-08-02 07:57pm
- Contact:
Hell, Chris, you've posted since he last did!Chris OFarrell wrote:*raises eyebrow*LadyTevar wrote:YOU!!!!Rogue 11 wrote:<.<
>.>
Oh shit.... They've found me.
POST MORE FIREWARRIOR!!!
Or else
You really need to calm down a little T
So you get the blowjob, and he gets the reaming
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
Chris OFarrell
- Durandal's Bitch
- Posts: 5724
- Joined: 2002-08-02 07:57pm
- Contact:
*blinks*LadyTevar wrote:Hell, Chris, you've posted since he last did!Chris OFarrell wrote:*raises eyebrow*LadyTevar wrote: YOU!!!!
POST MORE FIREWARRIOR!!!
Or else
You really need to calm down a little T
So you get the blowjob, and he gets the reaming
I think I'm going to have Nit up the dosage....
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Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
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Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
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- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
A bat? Why? So I can use it on people who don't post?Ford Prefect wrote:I think you should give him a bat.Chris OFarrell wrote: I think I'm going to have Nit up the dosage....
(Sorry m'Lady)
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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The Yosemite Bear
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
- Posts: 35211
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- Location: Dave's Not Here Man
you would have broken it against my thick lazy skull by now, I haven't posted new instalments to any fics since novermeber first, and the last one before that was Halloween of the previous year.
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
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Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
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- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
I read Vicious Little Thing.Singular Quartet wrote:I'm not quite that bad. I haven't posted anything since May something or other., but that's not 40k. That, and I'm not sure anybody really reads it, either.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
- Joined: 2002-07-04 05:33pm
- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
It's back! Who'd a thunk it? 
Chapter 5
The sprint trader exited the warp with all the grace of a freight train crashing through a brick wall. Even as far away as it was from the Dylan, sensors registered the blast of energy as warpstuff frayed and tore.
---------------------------
"You learned how to fly where?!" Cyran shouted from his position on the deck.
"Sorry lads, 'twas a mite of a rise'n the' warp right before we left!"
"You plowed us into a fucking mountain in the Empyrean?!" Sheppard bellowed.
"Aye, might'n be put that way!"
The Iron Warrior turned to glare at the Black Legionnaire. "Can I shoot him now? Can I?"
"Shoot him and I put Jadeite in charge of flying the ship," Cyran growled. "So hold your ammo." With that, the Black Legionnaire got to his feet as the other marines did likewise. "All right, how far to the Dylan?"
"'Bout thirty hours travel, me lad!"
"You heard the man. Get to your hiding places. Group One get into costume. This is it, people. Don't fuck this up."
------------------------------------
The Black Dart maintained complete comms silence as it approached the Dylan. "Order Battery Caliph to go active and begin targeting," Garrenheim ordered as he followed the smaller ship's progress.
There was a pregnant pause in the activity on the bridge. "On an Astartes ship?" the weapons officer asked.
"That's not an Astartes ship, it's a damned sprint trader, and if they refuse to acknowledge our hails one more time, then I do not care if it is Lion El'Jonson himself on that ship, we are going to blow it out of the void!"
"Yes sir."
"Incoming transmission, ref. Black Dart," the comms servitor suddenly said. "Docking request code Apex Apex Alpha Delta Apex Beta Epsilon Epslion Apex Delta."
There was another long pause. "Clear them," Garrenheim finally said. With that he turned and strode off the bridge. A man in the cap and greatcoat of the Commissariat followed him.
-----------------------------
Despite being nearly a half a kilometer long, the front portion of the Black Dart fit snugly in the largest of the St. Dylan's Revenge's hangar bays. One hundred guardsmen lined up in two lines of fifty each, bracketing the path of the Captain and the two Commissars as they awaited the new arrivals. Guardsman Bass found his gaze drifting to the ship over and over. He'd never seen a real live Space Marine before.
The hatch opened.
Steam billowed from pistons.
And they came down the ramp.
Four figures in armor black as night, penitent heads bowed as if beneath the weight of the robes they wore. They were huge, half again as tall as Commissar Eugor, and the Commissar was a large man. Yet despite their bulk, their movement was all but soundless, as though they were ghosts instead of real men.
They bowed in greeting to the three men who awaited them and Major Bezz barked. The one hundred guardsmen came to attention with spilt-second precision. One of the Space Marines seemed to nod in approval and Bass felt his heart swell.
Then the seven men were walking away from the transport. As they came closer, Bass began to see little differences between the four marines. One had nearly-invisible gold tracery on his armor. Another's was stitched with green. Their eyes all glowed different colors; red, yellow, blue, and green. As they passed by, the closest glanced at him and Bass felt a chill run up his spine as the inhuman eyes of the marine's helmet seemed to bore right through him.
A moment later they had passed and Bass realized that his heart had been racing.
Then they were gone.
"Fall out!" Bezz snapped. Bass joined his ninety-nine brothers-in-arms in exiting the hangar, thinking that things couldn't possibly get any more interesting than they had.
------------------------------------
"Is it clear?" Ghornal hissed.
"Shut up, I'm trying to determine that!" Sheppard hissed back. The two Iron Warriors, the Death Guard, and the raptor were all crammed into a tiny sealed compartment that had ones been the hardpoint for an escape pod. Sheppard had hooked an all but microscopic camera up to the hull plates and was currently glued to the datascreen the device tied into, no small feat considering he'd had to climb into the compartment upside down to make room for the huge Domini. "Looks clear. On three, Dalton."
The Death Guard grasped a small lever as Sheppard counted to three and then pulled, opening the hatch and dropping the four men three meters onto the floor of the hangar. In a flash they had hidden themselves in the vast amounts of piping, spare parts, and mechanics housed along the walls. Moment later, three deckworks came through, idly chatting about some nonsense. As they came to close to the hidden marines, a green-clad arm whipped out and a scythe blade decapitated all three simultaneously.
"Close one," Ghornal breathed as they stuffed the bodies into a supply closet.
"Proper planning prevents piss-poor performance," Sheppard muttered.
"Nice alliteration."
"Shut up. Domini, you set?"
The huge Obliterator shrugged under the heavy weight of the explosive canisters he carried. "Don't worry about me," he growled.
"Let's go," Sheppard said, and the foursome set off down one of the maintenance corridors, hoping they wouldn't be spotted.
-------------------------------
"Sheppard just sent the signal," Gulgamesh said.
"Thirty minutes, start your countdowns," Scalk replied immediately.
"You know, I think I should be leading this group, since the guy in charge is in my legion."
"Shut up, raptor."
--------------------------------
Cyran struggled not to smile. Things had gone perfectly thus far, even easier than he'd expected. To distract himself, he ran a quick combat simulation in his head, calculating the amount of time he would need to kill the three men in front of him. He'd drop the first of the two Commissars with his opening swipe and then a quick infinity loop would finish the captain and the other man.
Not yet, he thought. But very soon.
Captain Garrenheim and Commissars Eugor and Galk led them into the belly of the massive battleship. As they walked, Cyran watched his mission clock with growing concern. Group Two had to be well on their way to the reactor by now, and in fifteen minutes Group Three would go to work. If the faux Dark Angels were forced to swing into action too quickly, the plan would easily go down in flames.
Fortunately, moments later, the small group of men came to a massive set of steel doors emblazoned with the double eagle of the Imperium. As they passed through, Galk stepped aside to tap the button that closed them. Cyran's armor red a change in the air pressure and he knew they were sealed in. Perfect. They were inside what appeared to be a mid-size briefing room and Garrenheim immediately gestured to the front row of seats. "Be seated if you wish, brother-captain," he said.
Cyran shook his head. "My brothers and I will remain standing, captain. Inaction does not suit us."
Garrenheim nodded. "As you wish. Now then-"
"Captain, please detail for me the exact nature of this ship's defenses and the resources you have to defend it with."
Garrenheim blinked. "All our port batteries are in functioning condition, the same for four-fifths of the starboard weaponry. The lance cannon is operating within all standard deviations. All security personnel are aboard and to complement them I have one hundred Bassinian guardsmen aboard."
"One hundred?" Cyran asked.
"They are the remains of the Bassinius 404th Riflemen, the remnants of the regiment after the fighting at Cadia." Garrenheim nodded to Commissar Eugor. "They are under the command of Commissar Eugor, whom you've met, and their own Major Bezz."
"I see," Cyran said. Keep him stalled, he thought. "Please detail for me the nature of their combat experience, Commissar Eugor," he said.
------------------------------
"Left?"
"Right."
"No, I think it's left."
"How would you know?"
"I know."
"You're guessing."
The four members of Group Two argued through hushed voices and gritted teeth. They had planned to go straight through this junction but, unfortunately, straight was no longer an option given the steel bulkhead that had mysteriously appeared in reality.
"Let's go right," Ghornal said.
"Left!" Sheppard insisted. "Left is towards the center of the ship and that's where the engines are."
"But wouldn't right take us away from the more traveled corridors?" Dalton supplied.
"We don't have time for this," Domini growled.
"Listen! I'm in charge of this group and I say we go left!"
But just as Sheppard pointed down the passageway he insisted upon taking, an ill-timed patrol of naval provosts came around the next corner. "What the-" one of them started to say.
He never got any further as Domini raised his autogun and fired a rude blat of ammunition that silenced the man and his two comrades forever.
"Shit!" Ghornal blurted. "Do you have any idea how far that's going to echo?! Fuck it, we're going my way!" A moment later the World Eater was legging it – as best he could – down the right passage. Dalton followed after a moment's hesitation and bare seconds later, the two Iron Warriors did likewise.
--------------------------
"Group Two, eagle eyes," Cyran heard dimly in his left audio receptor.
Oh, shit.
--------------------------
"Three, two, one!" Gulgamesh counted off in a singsong voice. Then he cut open the ceiling panel holding the four of them prisoner, dropping them to the deck. Before them yawned the open ramp and beyond that, the St. Dylan's Revenge. Gulgamesh somersaulted down the ramp, screeching aloud. The sound reverberated throughout the hangar bay.
Chapter 5
The sprint trader exited the warp with all the grace of a freight train crashing through a brick wall. Even as far away as it was from the Dylan, sensors registered the blast of energy as warpstuff frayed and tore.
---------------------------
"You learned how to fly where?!" Cyran shouted from his position on the deck.
"Sorry lads, 'twas a mite of a rise'n the' warp right before we left!"
"You plowed us into a fucking mountain in the Empyrean?!" Sheppard bellowed.
"Aye, might'n be put that way!"
The Iron Warrior turned to glare at the Black Legionnaire. "Can I shoot him now? Can I?"
"Shoot him and I put Jadeite in charge of flying the ship," Cyran growled. "So hold your ammo." With that, the Black Legionnaire got to his feet as the other marines did likewise. "All right, how far to the Dylan?"
"'Bout thirty hours travel, me lad!"
"You heard the man. Get to your hiding places. Group One get into costume. This is it, people. Don't fuck this up."
------------------------------------
The Black Dart maintained complete comms silence as it approached the Dylan. "Order Battery Caliph to go active and begin targeting," Garrenheim ordered as he followed the smaller ship's progress.
There was a pregnant pause in the activity on the bridge. "On an Astartes ship?" the weapons officer asked.
"That's not an Astartes ship, it's a damned sprint trader, and if they refuse to acknowledge our hails one more time, then I do not care if it is Lion El'Jonson himself on that ship, we are going to blow it out of the void!"
"Yes sir."
"Incoming transmission, ref. Black Dart," the comms servitor suddenly said. "Docking request code Apex Apex Alpha Delta Apex Beta Epsilon Epslion Apex Delta."
There was another long pause. "Clear them," Garrenheim finally said. With that he turned and strode off the bridge. A man in the cap and greatcoat of the Commissariat followed him.
-----------------------------
Despite being nearly a half a kilometer long, the front portion of the Black Dart fit snugly in the largest of the St. Dylan's Revenge's hangar bays. One hundred guardsmen lined up in two lines of fifty each, bracketing the path of the Captain and the two Commissars as they awaited the new arrivals. Guardsman Bass found his gaze drifting to the ship over and over. He'd never seen a real live Space Marine before.
The hatch opened.
Steam billowed from pistons.
And they came down the ramp.
Four figures in armor black as night, penitent heads bowed as if beneath the weight of the robes they wore. They were huge, half again as tall as Commissar Eugor, and the Commissar was a large man. Yet despite their bulk, their movement was all but soundless, as though they were ghosts instead of real men.
They bowed in greeting to the three men who awaited them and Major Bezz barked. The one hundred guardsmen came to attention with spilt-second precision. One of the Space Marines seemed to nod in approval and Bass felt his heart swell.
Then the seven men were walking away from the transport. As they came closer, Bass began to see little differences between the four marines. One had nearly-invisible gold tracery on his armor. Another's was stitched with green. Their eyes all glowed different colors; red, yellow, blue, and green. As they passed by, the closest glanced at him and Bass felt a chill run up his spine as the inhuman eyes of the marine's helmet seemed to bore right through him.
A moment later they had passed and Bass realized that his heart had been racing.
Then they were gone.
"Fall out!" Bezz snapped. Bass joined his ninety-nine brothers-in-arms in exiting the hangar, thinking that things couldn't possibly get any more interesting than they had.
------------------------------------
"Is it clear?" Ghornal hissed.
"Shut up, I'm trying to determine that!" Sheppard hissed back. The two Iron Warriors, the Death Guard, and the raptor were all crammed into a tiny sealed compartment that had ones been the hardpoint for an escape pod. Sheppard had hooked an all but microscopic camera up to the hull plates and was currently glued to the datascreen the device tied into, no small feat considering he'd had to climb into the compartment upside down to make room for the huge Domini. "Looks clear. On three, Dalton."
The Death Guard grasped a small lever as Sheppard counted to three and then pulled, opening the hatch and dropping the four men three meters onto the floor of the hangar. In a flash they had hidden themselves in the vast amounts of piping, spare parts, and mechanics housed along the walls. Moment later, three deckworks came through, idly chatting about some nonsense. As they came to close to the hidden marines, a green-clad arm whipped out and a scythe blade decapitated all three simultaneously.
"Close one," Ghornal breathed as they stuffed the bodies into a supply closet.
"Proper planning prevents piss-poor performance," Sheppard muttered.
"Nice alliteration."
"Shut up. Domini, you set?"
The huge Obliterator shrugged under the heavy weight of the explosive canisters he carried. "Don't worry about me," he growled.
"Let's go," Sheppard said, and the foursome set off down one of the maintenance corridors, hoping they wouldn't be spotted.
-------------------------------
"Sheppard just sent the signal," Gulgamesh said.
"Thirty minutes, start your countdowns," Scalk replied immediately.
"You know, I think I should be leading this group, since the guy in charge is in my legion."
"Shut up, raptor."
--------------------------------
Cyran struggled not to smile. Things had gone perfectly thus far, even easier than he'd expected. To distract himself, he ran a quick combat simulation in his head, calculating the amount of time he would need to kill the three men in front of him. He'd drop the first of the two Commissars with his opening swipe and then a quick infinity loop would finish the captain and the other man.
Not yet, he thought. But very soon.
Captain Garrenheim and Commissars Eugor and Galk led them into the belly of the massive battleship. As they walked, Cyran watched his mission clock with growing concern. Group Two had to be well on their way to the reactor by now, and in fifteen minutes Group Three would go to work. If the faux Dark Angels were forced to swing into action too quickly, the plan would easily go down in flames.
Fortunately, moments later, the small group of men came to a massive set of steel doors emblazoned with the double eagle of the Imperium. As they passed through, Galk stepped aside to tap the button that closed them. Cyran's armor red a change in the air pressure and he knew they were sealed in. Perfect. They were inside what appeared to be a mid-size briefing room and Garrenheim immediately gestured to the front row of seats. "Be seated if you wish, brother-captain," he said.
Cyran shook his head. "My brothers and I will remain standing, captain. Inaction does not suit us."
Garrenheim nodded. "As you wish. Now then-"
"Captain, please detail for me the exact nature of this ship's defenses and the resources you have to defend it with."
Garrenheim blinked. "All our port batteries are in functioning condition, the same for four-fifths of the starboard weaponry. The lance cannon is operating within all standard deviations. All security personnel are aboard and to complement them I have one hundred Bassinian guardsmen aboard."
"One hundred?" Cyran asked.
"They are the remains of the Bassinius 404th Riflemen, the remnants of the regiment after the fighting at Cadia." Garrenheim nodded to Commissar Eugor. "They are under the command of Commissar Eugor, whom you've met, and their own Major Bezz."
"I see," Cyran said. Keep him stalled, he thought. "Please detail for me the nature of their combat experience, Commissar Eugor," he said.
------------------------------
"Left?"
"Right."
"No, I think it's left."
"How would you know?"
"I know."
"You're guessing."
The four members of Group Two argued through hushed voices and gritted teeth. They had planned to go straight through this junction but, unfortunately, straight was no longer an option given the steel bulkhead that had mysteriously appeared in reality.
"Let's go right," Ghornal said.
"Left!" Sheppard insisted. "Left is towards the center of the ship and that's where the engines are."
"But wouldn't right take us away from the more traveled corridors?" Dalton supplied.
"We don't have time for this," Domini growled.
"Listen! I'm in charge of this group and I say we go left!"
But just as Sheppard pointed down the passageway he insisted upon taking, an ill-timed patrol of naval provosts came around the next corner. "What the-" one of them started to say.
He never got any further as Domini raised his autogun and fired a rude blat of ammunition that silenced the man and his two comrades forever.
"Shit!" Ghornal blurted. "Do you have any idea how far that's going to echo?! Fuck it, we're going my way!" A moment later the World Eater was legging it – as best he could – down the right passage. Dalton followed after a moment's hesitation and bare seconds later, the two Iron Warriors did likewise.
--------------------------
"Group Two, eagle eyes," Cyran heard dimly in his left audio receptor.
Oh, shit.
--------------------------
"Three, two, one!" Gulgamesh counted off in a singsong voice. Then he cut open the ceiling panel holding the four of them prisoner, dropping them to the deck. Before them yawned the open ramp and beyond that, the St. Dylan's Revenge. Gulgamesh somersaulted down the ramp, screeching aloud. The sound reverberated throughout the hangar bay.
JADAFETWA
IT LIVES!!!
'Bout time, Kuja! I'd thought this was dead.
'Bout time, Kuja! I'd thought this was dead.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
consequences
- Homicidal Maniac
- Posts: 6964
- Joined: 2002-07-07 03:06pm
To commemorate this historic resurrection, a song:
Captain Garrenheim:
"I am not dead yet
I can dance and I can sing
I am not dead yet
I can do the Highland Fling
I am not dead yet
No need to go to bed
No need to call the doctor
Cause I'm not yet dead."
Commisars Eugor and Galk:
"He is not yet dead
That's what the geezer said
No, he's not yet dead
That man is off his head
He is not yet dead
So put him back in bed
Keep him off the cart because he's not yet dead."
A tearing noise is heard, as Ghornal carves straight through the bulkhead with his chainaxe, incidentally chopping through the Captain's skull.
Commisars Eugor and Galk:
"Well now he's dead
You whacked him on the head
Sure, now he's dead
It makes me just see red
You are such a brute
To murder that old coot
You homicidal bastard, now he's really dead"
Lyrics shamelessly stolen from the musical Spamalot.
Captain Garrenheim:
"I am not dead yet
I can dance and I can sing
I am not dead yet
I can do the Highland Fling
I am not dead yet
No need to go to bed
No need to call the doctor
Cause I'm not yet dead."
Commisars Eugor and Galk:
"He is not yet dead
That's what the geezer said
No, he's not yet dead
That man is off his head
He is not yet dead
So put him back in bed
Keep him off the cart because he's not yet dead."
A tearing noise is heard, as Ghornal carves straight through the bulkhead with his chainaxe, incidentally chopping through the Captain's skull.
Commisars Eugor and Galk:
"Well now he's dead
You whacked him on the head
Sure, now he's dead
It makes me just see red
You are such a brute
To murder that old coot
You homicidal bastard, now he's really dead"
Lyrics shamelessly stolen from the musical Spamalot.
Last edited by consequences on 2006-11-21 08:28pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
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CaptainChewbacca
- Browncoat Wookiee
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- Location: Deep beneath Boatmurdered.
I know exactly crap about 40k, but it doesn't matter because this fic is 10 pounds of awesome in a human skull!
Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
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Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
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- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
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The Yosemite Bear
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
- Posts: 35211
- Joined: 2002-07-21 02:38am
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Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 8254
- Joined: 2005-05-16 04:08am
- Location: The real number domain
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The Yosemite Bear
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
- Posts: 35211
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