Knowing the universe this is set in, I will remain cynical and assume everyone's fate is terrible.
Promethium in Paradise (40k) (Part 18 posted)
Moderator: LadyTevar
Peh. I feel like I'm echoing Dominus the entire time, but that was an excellent way to answer questions in-universe. It also makes sense that we found out about this stuff afterwards, when Kaleb discovers the true extent of the challenge he faces.
Knowing the universe this is set in, I will remain cynical and assume everyone's fate is terrible.
Knowing the universe this is set in, I will remain cynical and assume everyone's fate is terrible.
No worries, Elessar. If it's any consolation, that's exactly how I feel whenever I review... anything at all. 
So, when can we expect our next update? I'm looking forward to some good old-fashioned head-screwing and so on...
So, when can we expect our next update? I'm looking forward to some good old-fashioned head-screwing and so on...
"There is a high statistical probability of death by gunshot. A punch to the face is also likely." - Legion
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
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Academia Nut
- Sith Devotee
- Posts: 2598
- Joined: 2005-08-23 10:44pm
- Location: Edmonton, Alberta
Motherfucking cold took a turn for the worse right when I had a big homework assignment. Ah well, got the next part done anyway. I hope you enjoy.
And how am I going to screw with your heads?
Read the title
Part 17: Four Years Later
The Foundation War
The Scouring of the Swamplands
The Melting Plague War
The Western Rebellion
The Conquest of Station Gamma Three
The great conflicts that had forged the people from a tiny tribe on a relatively insignificant island to the largest, most powerful empire on the hemisphere, possibly even the planet. They called themselves the Federation of the Eagle, but that was only to newcomers. Within, they called themselves Imperial citizens, and their enemies just knew them as death incarnate.
For Kai, he had missed out on all of those key moments. But no more.
The tattoos, freshly scribed on his body the day before, still itched and bled sometimes, but he had learned to ignore discomfort long ago under Kaleb’s tutelage. He was one of the first boys to get the new designs, the more Imperial symbols like the aquila or the fire drake of the Salamanders. He also had some more traditional tattoos, and comically enough, kill markings usually reserved for adult men, marks of honour from the four Traitor marines he had slain.
This was why his exclusion from the campaigns galled him so. While Kaleb had quickly pulled away, there was a point where he slain more Traitors than the Terminator, a point he often liked to point out jokingly to his mentor. Yet Kaleb had kept Kai out of direct military action, the only fighting Kai saw being either when a zone thought pacified turned out to not be so or if a section of an enemy attack managed to sneak pasted the front lines.
But that would be over today. He had passed all of his manhood trials, as redundant as they were considering his past deeds, so now he had but one more thing to do before he was truly a man in the eyes of his people, and that was to go out on a raid with his father or closest male counterpart. Kaleb could not refuse him, not when his own policy was to accept any non-Chaos or Chaos leaning traditions as law.
Plus, expecting Kaleb trying to get around sending him into combat, Kai had made sure to equip himself for long range combat.
The first time Kai had built something like this Kaleb had frowned and said something about such behaviour annoying the Techpriests, but had simply shrugged and said to continue on. Kai still did not know what was wrong with using the templates the way they said they were supposed to be used, although apparently without machine empathy it was hard to read those parts of the files.
Bringing the long gun up to his shoulder, Kai sighted one of the target buoys used for practice by the mortar crews, the rangefinder showed him that the target was 1.34km away, bobbing up and down in the surf. Unlike most of his tribesmen, Kaleb had actually bothered learning to shoot instead of the spray and pray method that most people used.
Exhaling slowly, Kai held his weapon steady until the bobbing target was in place and then gently caressed the trigger. In a flash of blue-white light, the plasma containment bottle opened up into the accelerator and from there out into the open world… at a significant fraction of the speed of light. The target did not just get hit; it disintegrated in a flash of light and vaporized water.
Grinning, Kai decided that he could still comfortably turn down the power output on his rifle, seeing as it was still a bit too powerful at times. Although he could probably wipe out entire squads in one shot, the ammunition expenditure did not quite make it worthwhile and the average warrior they encountered was already terrified by the hellguns.
“Still playing around with that thing?” Peni asks, walking up behind Kai.
“Yeah, I figure this is the best way to get Kaleb to take me with him. I mean, he can’t exactly deny me now that I’m more or less a man, but I doubt he’ll let me get into the thick of things,” Kai says while beseeching the machine spirit of his gun to expend less of its rage in each strike.
“Bet he’ll make fun of that fuzz on her cheeks like everyone else,” Peni teases.
“It’s a beard!” Kai cries out, despite knowing the fact that she was right.
“Yeah, yeah, but ‘me thinks the lord doth protest too much’,” Peni says, intentionally misquoting one of the stories Kaleb had told them over the years.
Grumbling, Kai selects a new target, and this time when he pulls the trigger a nice neat hole is punched through the wooden platform and the spray of water is only about 3 metres tall instead of the 30 from before. Smiling, Kai lovingly strokes the machine, letting it know what a good job it had done.
Snorting, Peni says, “Sometimes I think you love your machines more than me.”
“Hey now, I am just showing them the respect they are due. The spirits in plasma weaponry are notoriously moody, so constant praise is required to keep them from venting their fury on the wielder,” Kai says indignantly while setting up for another shot.
Snorting, Peni asks, “Aren’t I notoriously moody and in need of constant praise to keep me from venting my fury on you?”
“Well, yeah, but you won’t let me stroke you to make it all better when you get annoyed. You keep insisting we get married first,” Kai says cheekily.
“Why you!” Peni cries out, delivering a nasty kick to Kai’s ribs.
Wincing in pain, Kai cries out, “I’ll get you for that! Let me just put this weapon’s spirit at ease first…”
“Gah!” Peni cries out in exasperation, although it’s partly to let loose her frustration at the pain of kicking Kai. Years of sword training had given her a lean, well-built physique that packed enormous strength, but Kai was built like a boulder from years of working the forge, and ever since he had entered into his manhood he had only grown even stronger.
Once the weapon was placated and stood down from its battle readiness, Kai got up, and rubbing his ribs, said, “Now you’re going to pay for that.”
Smirking, Peni says, “Try me,” while taking on a fighting stance.
Working a kink out of his neck with a crack, Kai limbers up while sizing up his best friend and the love of his life for this match. When Peni had started to come into her womanhood, she had sprouted like a weed, and had nearly a full head in height on Kai, which gave her considerable reach on him. And she needed it too, because Kai was much stronger than her, and gone were the days were they could wrestle evenly. They both knew that if Kai got a good hold on her, she had about three seconds to break free or Kai would have her in a grip that she could not escape.
Taking up an easy stance, Kai comments, “You let your hair grown long again old crone.” This is a comment on one of the stranger effects of Peni’s encounter with Argus and his daemon blade all those years ago, in that her hair had permanently turned silver-white shortly afterward.
Shrugging, Peni says, “Hides the scars, scares the children less.”
That was a reference to the other lasting memento from that night, the long scars running down the side of her face from where she had clawed at her head to try and get the voices out. The children comment was about her taking up teaching younger children as a way of improving her patience, something Kaleb had suggested.
“Ah… I see you’re responding less to taunts. Very good,” Kai notes.
“Yeah, well…” Peni is then forced to leap back, the sentence half formed as Kai flies at her.
“Still need to work on the pride a bit though,” Kai says, to which Peni responds with a few quick jabs that he nimbly dodges.
“Oh stuff it mister ‘Emperor’s gift to the planet’,” Peni says while delivering a potent kick to Kai’s chest that does more to knock Peni back than knock Kai down.
“I believe Kaleb takes that title,” Kai says with a smile while launching a right cross at Peni’s solar plexus, which she just barely manages to dodge while launching a side kick at Kai’s ribs, but again it seems to do more damage to Peni’s foot than Kai.
“No, because he doesn’t wallow in the attention like you do,” Peni says, backing off and trying to get some feeling back in her foot.
“I do not wallow in attention!” Kai protests.
“Says the guy who is surrounded by women all the time,” Peni points out.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that most of the men prefer to go campaigning and only women, that I have to train, are left behind to work the forges,” Kai counters while countering a series of jabs from Peni.
“So you deny strutting about like a peacock half the time?” Peni says sarcastically.
“Of course not. There are some fine ladies working there,” Kai says cheekily.
“What!” Peni cries out, only to get tackled by Kai and dragged to the ground. With the wind driven out of her by the impact, she can’t even try and wriggle free before Kai has her pinned to the sand, sitting on her stomach and grinning like a madman.
“Made you look,” he says mockingly.
“Ooooh! You can be such a bastard Kai,” Peni says, glaring up at him.
“If I’m a bastard, it’s only because I learned from the best bitch on the planet,” Kai says sweetly.
“Damn right. Now if you don’t get off me this bitch is going to kick your ass,” Peni states.
Looking behind him, Kai says, “Hmm… no, I don’t think that’s possible in the current configuration as your feet are quite far from your ass.”
“You know what I mean,” Peni says, giving Kai a glare that made the lascannons on a Land Raider look like spotlights.
“All right, all right,” Kai says in exasperation, before grinning and saying, “But before I let you go, you have to pay the penalty for losing.”
“Oh? And what would that be?” Peni asks.
Leaning over, Kai kisses her, which receives a response, “Some penalty.”
Laughing, Kai rolls off Peni and then offers her a hand up, but she just smiles and kips up.
Shrugging, Kai goes to collect his rifle, only to have Peni dropkick him in the ass while he’s bending over, sending him sprawling into the surf zone and an oncoming wave.
“Told you I would kick your ass if you didn’t let me up,” Peni says when Kai comes spluttering up for air.
Glaring at her, Kai picks himself up and walks over to her. He then scoops her up before she can do anything, carries her out into the surf and tosses her into the waves.
Instead of coming up for air, Peni lets the next wave propel her into Kai’s legs, and soon the two of them are rolling about in the surf, although this time there is none of the seriousness of before and Kai lets Peni get in a few good grapples before finally she’s on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the ground.
“You’re such a bitch,” Kai says with a smile.
“I know. And you’re a pervert. Don’t think I don’t know why you let a frail young maiden like me beat you in wrestling,” Peni says with an equal smile.
“Frail young maiden? Hardly. I bet you could wash clothing on your abs,” Kai says, running a finger up Peni’s stomach, although his comment is only partially correct as Peni had become somewhat more image conscious in the last year and had started intentionally over-eating to try and put on some curves. Still, beneath a small layer of fat she had a set of muscles most men would kill for.
Blushing self-consciously, Peni says, “Well you better make sure your ‘campaign’ is a short one so we can get married soon.”
“Yeah… kind of annoying all the hoops I have to jump through to be declared a man. It’s so easy for the women, all…” Kai immediately shuts up under a glare that could have been used in the broadside of an Apocalypse-class battleship and then offers a retraction of, “On second thought guys get it easy.”
“I thought that was what you were going to say,” Peni says coldly.
Getting up with Peni still on top of him, Kai takes a quick look at the sand next to his head to make sure it had not fused to glass before saying, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant to say.”
A smiling splitting her face once more, Peni says, “You know what I love about you? You’re an idiot sometimes, but for some reason you’re a very cute idiot.”
Picking up his rifle, Kai says, “Some idiot huh? Race you back to the docks!” before taking off without warning.
“Bastard!” Peni cries before taking off after him. Her longer strides quickly eat up the gap, but Kai’s tremendous endurance earned working the forges ensures that he can maintain a steady pace longer than Peni, making the match more or less even in the long run.
Following an old path in the woods, they quickly leave the area untouched by the wars and the war effort and enter into the new development area. Sturdy domes and small gardens dot the landscape while larger, boxy buildings rise up in a cluster around the main road leading the mountain where the smithies and the cavern of the ancestors are located. Where once less than a hundred people lived on an insignificant island in mud huts there was now over a thousand people made up the capital of a rapidly growing technological empire that had conquered half a hemisphere in four years.
Running through the streets at breakneck speeds, the two adolescents dodged around carts laden with food brought in from all corners of the federation to feed the hungry workers that made the weapons that drove back the darkness of Chaos. Finally they came to the docks, a section of the island with a relatively deep harbour where the large ships laden with food could come in and load up with supplies.
Panting hard from her final sprint to get ahead of Kai, Peni says breathlessly, “I… win…”
“Yeah, but you weren’t carrying this,” Kai says, pointing to his gun.
“Your… fault… for… bringing it. Plus… you had… a head start,” Peni says while slowly regaining her breath and glaring at Kai for having only barely broken a sweat.
Shrugging, Kai says, “We’ll call it even then.”
Squinting, he looks out to sea where the sun is starting to set, and can just make out the shapes of the incoming ships bearing the triumphant warriors coming home to rest before their next excursion.
Smiling, Kai says, “Kaleb’s coming.”
And how am I going to screw with your heads?
Read the title
Part 17: Four Years Later
The Foundation War
The Scouring of the Swamplands
The Melting Plague War
The Western Rebellion
The Conquest of Station Gamma Three
The great conflicts that had forged the people from a tiny tribe on a relatively insignificant island to the largest, most powerful empire on the hemisphere, possibly even the planet. They called themselves the Federation of the Eagle, but that was only to newcomers. Within, they called themselves Imperial citizens, and their enemies just knew them as death incarnate.
For Kai, he had missed out on all of those key moments. But no more.
The tattoos, freshly scribed on his body the day before, still itched and bled sometimes, but he had learned to ignore discomfort long ago under Kaleb’s tutelage. He was one of the first boys to get the new designs, the more Imperial symbols like the aquila or the fire drake of the Salamanders. He also had some more traditional tattoos, and comically enough, kill markings usually reserved for adult men, marks of honour from the four Traitor marines he had slain.
This was why his exclusion from the campaigns galled him so. While Kaleb had quickly pulled away, there was a point where he slain more Traitors than the Terminator, a point he often liked to point out jokingly to his mentor. Yet Kaleb had kept Kai out of direct military action, the only fighting Kai saw being either when a zone thought pacified turned out to not be so or if a section of an enemy attack managed to sneak pasted the front lines.
But that would be over today. He had passed all of his manhood trials, as redundant as they were considering his past deeds, so now he had but one more thing to do before he was truly a man in the eyes of his people, and that was to go out on a raid with his father or closest male counterpart. Kaleb could not refuse him, not when his own policy was to accept any non-Chaos or Chaos leaning traditions as law.
Plus, expecting Kaleb trying to get around sending him into combat, Kai had made sure to equip himself for long range combat.
The first time Kai had built something like this Kaleb had frowned and said something about such behaviour annoying the Techpriests, but had simply shrugged and said to continue on. Kai still did not know what was wrong with using the templates the way they said they were supposed to be used, although apparently without machine empathy it was hard to read those parts of the files.
Bringing the long gun up to his shoulder, Kai sighted one of the target buoys used for practice by the mortar crews, the rangefinder showed him that the target was 1.34km away, bobbing up and down in the surf. Unlike most of his tribesmen, Kaleb had actually bothered learning to shoot instead of the spray and pray method that most people used.
Exhaling slowly, Kai held his weapon steady until the bobbing target was in place and then gently caressed the trigger. In a flash of blue-white light, the plasma containment bottle opened up into the accelerator and from there out into the open world… at a significant fraction of the speed of light. The target did not just get hit; it disintegrated in a flash of light and vaporized water.
Grinning, Kai decided that he could still comfortably turn down the power output on his rifle, seeing as it was still a bit too powerful at times. Although he could probably wipe out entire squads in one shot, the ammunition expenditure did not quite make it worthwhile and the average warrior they encountered was already terrified by the hellguns.
“Still playing around with that thing?” Peni asks, walking up behind Kai.
“Yeah, I figure this is the best way to get Kaleb to take me with him. I mean, he can’t exactly deny me now that I’m more or less a man, but I doubt he’ll let me get into the thick of things,” Kai says while beseeching the machine spirit of his gun to expend less of its rage in each strike.
“Bet he’ll make fun of that fuzz on her cheeks like everyone else,” Peni teases.
“It’s a beard!” Kai cries out, despite knowing the fact that she was right.
“Yeah, yeah, but ‘me thinks the lord doth protest too much’,” Peni says, intentionally misquoting one of the stories Kaleb had told them over the years.
Grumbling, Kai selects a new target, and this time when he pulls the trigger a nice neat hole is punched through the wooden platform and the spray of water is only about 3 metres tall instead of the 30 from before. Smiling, Kai lovingly strokes the machine, letting it know what a good job it had done.
Snorting, Peni says, “Sometimes I think you love your machines more than me.”
“Hey now, I am just showing them the respect they are due. The spirits in plasma weaponry are notoriously moody, so constant praise is required to keep them from venting their fury on the wielder,” Kai says indignantly while setting up for another shot.
Snorting, Peni asks, “Aren’t I notoriously moody and in need of constant praise to keep me from venting my fury on you?”
“Well, yeah, but you won’t let me stroke you to make it all better when you get annoyed. You keep insisting we get married first,” Kai says cheekily.
“Why you!” Peni cries out, delivering a nasty kick to Kai’s ribs.
Wincing in pain, Kai cries out, “I’ll get you for that! Let me just put this weapon’s spirit at ease first…”
“Gah!” Peni cries out in exasperation, although it’s partly to let loose her frustration at the pain of kicking Kai. Years of sword training had given her a lean, well-built physique that packed enormous strength, but Kai was built like a boulder from years of working the forge, and ever since he had entered into his manhood he had only grown even stronger.
Once the weapon was placated and stood down from its battle readiness, Kai got up, and rubbing his ribs, said, “Now you’re going to pay for that.”
Smirking, Peni says, “Try me,” while taking on a fighting stance.
Working a kink out of his neck with a crack, Kai limbers up while sizing up his best friend and the love of his life for this match. When Peni had started to come into her womanhood, she had sprouted like a weed, and had nearly a full head in height on Kai, which gave her considerable reach on him. And she needed it too, because Kai was much stronger than her, and gone were the days were they could wrestle evenly. They both knew that if Kai got a good hold on her, she had about three seconds to break free or Kai would have her in a grip that she could not escape.
Taking up an easy stance, Kai comments, “You let your hair grown long again old crone.” This is a comment on one of the stranger effects of Peni’s encounter with Argus and his daemon blade all those years ago, in that her hair had permanently turned silver-white shortly afterward.
Shrugging, Peni says, “Hides the scars, scares the children less.”
That was a reference to the other lasting memento from that night, the long scars running down the side of her face from where she had clawed at her head to try and get the voices out. The children comment was about her taking up teaching younger children as a way of improving her patience, something Kaleb had suggested.
“Ah… I see you’re responding less to taunts. Very good,” Kai notes.
“Yeah, well…” Peni is then forced to leap back, the sentence half formed as Kai flies at her.
“Still need to work on the pride a bit though,” Kai says, to which Peni responds with a few quick jabs that he nimbly dodges.
“Oh stuff it mister ‘Emperor’s gift to the planet’,” Peni says while delivering a potent kick to Kai’s chest that does more to knock Peni back than knock Kai down.
“I believe Kaleb takes that title,” Kai says with a smile while launching a right cross at Peni’s solar plexus, which she just barely manages to dodge while launching a side kick at Kai’s ribs, but again it seems to do more damage to Peni’s foot than Kai.
“No, because he doesn’t wallow in the attention like you do,” Peni says, backing off and trying to get some feeling back in her foot.
“I do not wallow in attention!” Kai protests.
“Says the guy who is surrounded by women all the time,” Peni points out.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that most of the men prefer to go campaigning and only women, that I have to train, are left behind to work the forges,” Kai counters while countering a series of jabs from Peni.
“So you deny strutting about like a peacock half the time?” Peni says sarcastically.
“Of course not. There are some fine ladies working there,” Kai says cheekily.
“What!” Peni cries out, only to get tackled by Kai and dragged to the ground. With the wind driven out of her by the impact, she can’t even try and wriggle free before Kai has her pinned to the sand, sitting on her stomach and grinning like a madman.
“Made you look,” he says mockingly.
“Ooooh! You can be such a bastard Kai,” Peni says, glaring up at him.
“If I’m a bastard, it’s only because I learned from the best bitch on the planet,” Kai says sweetly.
“Damn right. Now if you don’t get off me this bitch is going to kick your ass,” Peni states.
Looking behind him, Kai says, “Hmm… no, I don’t think that’s possible in the current configuration as your feet are quite far from your ass.”
“You know what I mean,” Peni says, giving Kai a glare that made the lascannons on a Land Raider look like spotlights.
“All right, all right,” Kai says in exasperation, before grinning and saying, “But before I let you go, you have to pay the penalty for losing.”
“Oh? And what would that be?” Peni asks.
Leaning over, Kai kisses her, which receives a response, “Some penalty.”
Laughing, Kai rolls off Peni and then offers her a hand up, but she just smiles and kips up.
Shrugging, Kai goes to collect his rifle, only to have Peni dropkick him in the ass while he’s bending over, sending him sprawling into the surf zone and an oncoming wave.
“Told you I would kick your ass if you didn’t let me up,” Peni says when Kai comes spluttering up for air.
Glaring at her, Kai picks himself up and walks over to her. He then scoops her up before she can do anything, carries her out into the surf and tosses her into the waves.
Instead of coming up for air, Peni lets the next wave propel her into Kai’s legs, and soon the two of them are rolling about in the surf, although this time there is none of the seriousness of before and Kai lets Peni get in a few good grapples before finally she’s on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the ground.
“You’re such a bitch,” Kai says with a smile.
“I know. And you’re a pervert. Don’t think I don’t know why you let a frail young maiden like me beat you in wrestling,” Peni says with an equal smile.
“Frail young maiden? Hardly. I bet you could wash clothing on your abs,” Kai says, running a finger up Peni’s stomach, although his comment is only partially correct as Peni had become somewhat more image conscious in the last year and had started intentionally over-eating to try and put on some curves. Still, beneath a small layer of fat she had a set of muscles most men would kill for.
Blushing self-consciously, Peni says, “Well you better make sure your ‘campaign’ is a short one so we can get married soon.”
“Yeah… kind of annoying all the hoops I have to jump through to be declared a man. It’s so easy for the women, all…” Kai immediately shuts up under a glare that could have been used in the broadside of an Apocalypse-class battleship and then offers a retraction of, “On second thought guys get it easy.”
“I thought that was what you were going to say,” Peni says coldly.
Getting up with Peni still on top of him, Kai takes a quick look at the sand next to his head to make sure it had not fused to glass before saying, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant to say.”
A smiling splitting her face once more, Peni says, “You know what I love about you? You’re an idiot sometimes, but for some reason you’re a very cute idiot.”
Picking up his rifle, Kai says, “Some idiot huh? Race you back to the docks!” before taking off without warning.
“Bastard!” Peni cries before taking off after him. Her longer strides quickly eat up the gap, but Kai’s tremendous endurance earned working the forges ensures that he can maintain a steady pace longer than Peni, making the match more or less even in the long run.
Following an old path in the woods, they quickly leave the area untouched by the wars and the war effort and enter into the new development area. Sturdy domes and small gardens dot the landscape while larger, boxy buildings rise up in a cluster around the main road leading the mountain where the smithies and the cavern of the ancestors are located. Where once less than a hundred people lived on an insignificant island in mud huts there was now over a thousand people made up the capital of a rapidly growing technological empire that had conquered half a hemisphere in four years.
Running through the streets at breakneck speeds, the two adolescents dodged around carts laden with food brought in from all corners of the federation to feed the hungry workers that made the weapons that drove back the darkness of Chaos. Finally they came to the docks, a section of the island with a relatively deep harbour where the large ships laden with food could come in and load up with supplies.
Panting hard from her final sprint to get ahead of Kai, Peni says breathlessly, “I… win…”
“Yeah, but you weren’t carrying this,” Kai says, pointing to his gun.
“Your… fault… for… bringing it. Plus… you had… a head start,” Peni says while slowly regaining her breath and glaring at Kai for having only barely broken a sweat.
Shrugging, Kai says, “We’ll call it even then.”
Squinting, he looks out to sea where the sun is starting to set, and can just make out the shapes of the incoming ships bearing the triumphant warriors coming home to rest before their next excursion.
Smiling, Kai says, “Kaleb’s coming.”
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen.
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Argh. Curse you and your tricksy, authorial ways! I was expecting the mind-screwing to be something along the lines of End of Evangelion or Silent Hill 2, but of course you had to hit me with the thing I was least expecting: a huge jump forward in time. Tricksy, tricksy authors confound us, precious!
Anyway, I liked this chapter. It shows good character progression and development, while (again) alluding to developments in-universe, as Elessar said earlier. (They have plasma! Hooray!) Clearly, the prescience of the Farseers favors you indeed if you can answer your audience's questions before we even think to ask them...
That said, I take it there are still some vile Traitors waiting around to be smashed? I somewhat suspect that they'll be showing up during Kai's manhood trial thing, but that might just be my 40k "standard nihilism response program" booting up.
I was expecting the mind-screwing to be something along the lines of End of Evangelion or Silent Hill 2, but of course you had to hit me with the thing I was least expecting: a huge jump forward in time. Tricksy, tricksy authors confound us, precious!Anyway, I liked this chapter. It shows good character progression and development, while (again) alluding to developments in-universe, as Elessar said earlier. (They have plasma! Hooray!) Clearly, the prescience of the Farseers favors you indeed if you can answer your audience's questions before we even think to ask them...
That said, I take it there are still some vile Traitors waiting around to be smashed? I somewhat suspect that they'll be showing up during Kai's manhood trial thing, but that might just be my 40k "standard nihilism response program" booting up.
Do I detect a subtle reference to my silly signature, mayhap...?Kai immediately shuts up under a glare that could have been used in the broadside of an Apocalypse-class battleship and then offers a retraction of, “On second thought guys get it easy.”
"There is a high statistical probability of death by gunshot. A punch to the face is also likely." - Legion
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
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- Joined: 2005-08-23 10:44pm
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Well, considering the fact that the final trial is to go out on a raid, and the closest non-allied tribe is quite far away into relatively untamed areas where Chaos still has easy access to whisper its sweet lies into the ears of men... what do you think?
And yeah, I needed the name of a big ship and when looking through the list I noticed the Apocalypse class and decided to run with it because I knew I had seen it before somewhere.
And yeah, I needed the name of a big ship and when looking through the list I noticed the Apocalypse class and decided to run with it because I knew I had seen it before somewhere.
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen.
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
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Academia Nut
- Sith Devotee
- Posts: 2598
- Joined: 2005-08-23 10:44pm
- Location: Edmonton, Alberta
Part 18: Bad Moon Rising
Latham had been in a perpetual state of being half-pissed off for the past four years. A small part of that was because he was tired of living on this ball of shit in the middle of nowhere and really wanted to get back to the terrible iron beauty of Medrengard. A much larger part was that his best friend and partner in crime for the past ten-thousand-years was dead, and his killers were half a world away and out of reach.
The thing that was pissing him off the most though was having to deal with his supposed ‘allies’, the majority of whom were dumber than bricks in his opinion. Especially the berserkers. That he had to figure out how to transport. Across half the planet. Stealthily.
Without sedation.
Fortunately there were two people who understood him. Unfortunately one was technically equal to him in rank and the other was a subordinate and not a marine. Apparently he was the bitch of the gods.
“You got the tanks worked out yet Latham?” Archer asked while coming into the makeshift bay where they stored the precious equipment Latham had recovered from the STC four years ago.
“Hmm… I’m trying to modify vehicles that are technically mining transports and were never meant to carry Space Marines to carry psychopathic killing machines for a month across rough water, and we can’t let them out for long lest we blow our advantage of stealth. What do you think?” Latham asks sarcastically while working beneath one of the vehicles, cleaning out a bit of salt water corrosion from one of the wiring boxes on the undercarriage.
“Not well I presume?” Archer asks, squatting down to get a better look at Latham.
“No, not well at all. Pass me the number four wrench would you?” Latham grumbles.
Picking up the correct tool, the Alpha Legionnaire places it in Latham’s outstretched hand.
“Thanks. And yeah, right now I’m considering swallowing my pride and just asking the boss to cook up some spell that will keep those Khornate bastards quiet for the trip, because they’re just as likely to rip the tanks apart and send us to the bottom as they are to obey orders,” Latham says while loosening a bolt so he can clean off some of the rust.
“I do not envy you at all my friend,” Archer comments while rearranging the pile of tools for maximum access efficiency, or in Latham’s terms, screwing up his system.
“Yeah, well, your assignment doesn’t sound like much fun either,” Latham replies while polishing up the last bits in the box.
“Maybe to you, but this is where I excel, driving Imperials insane with multi-pronged hit and run tactics that leave them guessing and exhausted. This will be the most fun I’ve had since we were forced down onto this shit hole,” Archer says with maniacal glee, rubbing his fingers together in anticipation of the mayhem to come in the following months.
“Well at least someone is happy,” Latham mutters before continuing, “Just be careful. I’ve seen that newt bastard in combat and he will fuck you up if he gets too close. All of our reports indicate that he’s a canny old bastard too and has more than once turned a trap meant for him into a killing field.”
“Oh trust me, I’ve been studying our toady friend for years now, although admittedly that’s all based off of our ‘intelligence’,” Archer then spits in disgust at the laughable methods they use to gather information on the enemy, “And I can say in all confidence that I will be nowhere near him when I start springing my traps.”
“Well, all I can say is that I hope you’re right and you wax him for me and Erroman,” Latham says while tightening the armoured cover to the box. After a moment he adds on, “I suppose Rossa too.”
“Oh, there is no need to get worked up over that old witch,” a calm, cold, cultured voice says.
Hauling himself out from under the tracks of the tank, Latham throws off a quick salute and then says, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm, “Come to look over my shoulder Belathau?”
Clad in ornate, twisting black armour reminiscent of baroque wrought iron, the leader of their miserable little band looks Latham and the tanks over and says, “Perhaps. I was thinking that perhaps some more upgrades are in order?”
“I’ve already figured out how to reinforce the drive train and suspension to hold our little organic blade whirlwinds, and we’re already reaching the limits of what the machines can take in terms of markings to the gods,” Latham says with all the futility of a mechanic pleading with management not to fix what isn’t broken.
“Oh yes, I already knew that. I was rather referring to the lack of skilled gunners. Would be a shame to let all that firepower go to waste,” Belathau says coolly.
Shrugging admittance of a lack in this area, Latham replies, “And I suppose you’ve found a solution that doesn’t depend on daemons?”
“Quite. I was in meditation when the solution struck me. We can integrate the crew into the tank,” Belathau says, and Latham knows that behind his ornate helmet the cruel bastard is smiling wickedly, just by the subtle shift in the red coal glow of his eyes.
“Oh?” Latham asks in a non-committal tone.
“Yes. See now the power of the gods,” Belathau says, gesturing for his bodyguards to march forward six thralls, local primitives branded with marks of Chaos to keep them compliant and ready to serve.
Once the thralls are standing dumbly inside the main compartment of one of the armoured personnel carriers, Belathau begins to weave together one of his spells. Sitting and watching with mild amusement and disgust at the sorcery, Latham witnesses the thralls begin to bind to the internal gun ports of the tank. Flesh twists and bubbles like metal sculpture in a blast furnace, and the thralls begin to come apart like piles of wet noodles in a wind tunnel.
When the spell finishes, six bodies worth of flesh are plastered to the walls, all pulsing veins and naked muscle, except for about the view ports where bulging, oversized eyes and boneless sacs of brain peer out, constantly seeking targets, the external guns now twitching along with the grotesque masses inside.
“You like?” Belathau asks, almost mockingly.
“It’ll do. Think you can weave a spell to keep those berserkers in-line while we make the crossing?” Latham asks.
“The followers of Khorne are often suspicious of magic and often shrug off attempts to control them as such. However, I will throw the bones and meditate upon the matter,” Belathau says before exiting the vehicle bay with a swirl of his cloak, his retinue marching along behind him like faithful hounds.
Once sure they’re out of earshot, Latham mutters, “Black Legion, fucking Ultramarines of Chaos,” before moving on to the next task in the tune-up.
Snorting with derisive laughter, Archer asks, “Oh, what makes you say that?”
“They’re both way too numerous for their own good and they’re both obnoxious loudmouths full of hot air that can barely get anything done without someone else kicking their asses to get going,” Latham details.
“While I might not fully agree with your assessment, I will admit it’s amusing. Got any other parallels?” Archer asks, leaning up against the APC.
“Blood Angels and World Eaters,” Latham says.
“Well duh. Why the Blood Angels don’t just realize they’re wanna-be Khornates and join the winning team I have yet to figure out,” Archer points out.
“Don’t try and get into the head of a Loyalist, the stupid might cause brain damage,” Latham retorts.
“True,” Archer replies with a shrug.
“There’re also the Salamanders and the Death Guard,” Latham says, adding to his list.
“How do you figure that one?” Archer asks while brushing some dust off his armour.
“Neither one stops for anything, ever, and you have to dismember and burn the corpses to put them down. Fortunately the Salamanders carry their own funeral pyres half the time,” Latham details.
Nodding, Archer says, “Okay, I can accept that.”
“Then there is my chapter and the Iron Hands,” Latham says while hauling out a piece of the drive-train for the tracks.
“Another obvious one,” Archer says.
“Imperial Fists and Word Bearers, both loony fanatics,” Latham says while examining a partly worn down gear.
“Getting a bit harder to make the parallels, but I’ll accept that one for the sake of the argument,” Archer says, picking up a tool and handing it to Latham before he even asks for it.
“Space Wolves and Emperor’s Children, who I might add get less respect from me as a legion than the Black Legion for being badly in need of a name change. And before you ask, it’s because they both love to scream their heads off and rip people apart with their bare hands,” Latham says, readjusting a few parts to try and compensate for the wear and tear.
“I think I can accept that,” Archer shrugs.
“White Scars and Night Lords,” Latham says.
“Close enough.”
“Raven Guard and your Alpha Legion,” Latham half suggests.
“Motherfuckers,” Archer spits.
Putting the part back in, Latham says, “Looks like I hit a soft spot. This leaves the Thousand Sons and the Dark Angels… doesn’t particularly fit, but they’re both gloomy and secretive.”
Shrugging, Archer replies, “Can’t win them all.”
Sealing the panel back up, Latham says, “Nope, but you can sure make the bastards pay for victory. And here you go, one STC produced pseudo-Chimera, ready for deployment to the Saltac Peninsula.”
***
Kaleb sighed, looking down at the almost over-eager Kai, both proud of the boy and worried for his safety. He knew that this day would come, just not so soon.
“Fine Kai, I guess I have no arguments this time why you can’t come with us to the Saltac Peninsula.”
Latham had been in a perpetual state of being half-pissed off for the past four years. A small part of that was because he was tired of living on this ball of shit in the middle of nowhere and really wanted to get back to the terrible iron beauty of Medrengard. A much larger part was that his best friend and partner in crime for the past ten-thousand-years was dead, and his killers were half a world away and out of reach.
The thing that was pissing him off the most though was having to deal with his supposed ‘allies’, the majority of whom were dumber than bricks in his opinion. Especially the berserkers. That he had to figure out how to transport. Across half the planet. Stealthily.
Without sedation.
Fortunately there were two people who understood him. Unfortunately one was technically equal to him in rank and the other was a subordinate and not a marine. Apparently he was the bitch of the gods.
“You got the tanks worked out yet Latham?” Archer asked while coming into the makeshift bay where they stored the precious equipment Latham had recovered from the STC four years ago.
“Hmm… I’m trying to modify vehicles that are technically mining transports and were never meant to carry Space Marines to carry psychopathic killing machines for a month across rough water, and we can’t let them out for long lest we blow our advantage of stealth. What do you think?” Latham asks sarcastically while working beneath one of the vehicles, cleaning out a bit of salt water corrosion from one of the wiring boxes on the undercarriage.
“Not well I presume?” Archer asks, squatting down to get a better look at Latham.
“No, not well at all. Pass me the number four wrench would you?” Latham grumbles.
Picking up the correct tool, the Alpha Legionnaire places it in Latham’s outstretched hand.
“Thanks. And yeah, right now I’m considering swallowing my pride and just asking the boss to cook up some spell that will keep those Khornate bastards quiet for the trip, because they’re just as likely to rip the tanks apart and send us to the bottom as they are to obey orders,” Latham says while loosening a bolt so he can clean off some of the rust.
“I do not envy you at all my friend,” Archer comments while rearranging the pile of tools for maximum access efficiency, or in Latham’s terms, screwing up his system.
“Yeah, well, your assignment doesn’t sound like much fun either,” Latham replies while polishing up the last bits in the box.
“Maybe to you, but this is where I excel, driving Imperials insane with multi-pronged hit and run tactics that leave them guessing and exhausted. This will be the most fun I’ve had since we were forced down onto this shit hole,” Archer says with maniacal glee, rubbing his fingers together in anticipation of the mayhem to come in the following months.
“Well at least someone is happy,” Latham mutters before continuing, “Just be careful. I’ve seen that newt bastard in combat and he will fuck you up if he gets too close. All of our reports indicate that he’s a canny old bastard too and has more than once turned a trap meant for him into a killing field.”
“Oh trust me, I’ve been studying our toady friend for years now, although admittedly that’s all based off of our ‘intelligence’,” Archer then spits in disgust at the laughable methods they use to gather information on the enemy, “And I can say in all confidence that I will be nowhere near him when I start springing my traps.”
“Well, all I can say is that I hope you’re right and you wax him for me and Erroman,” Latham says while tightening the armoured cover to the box. After a moment he adds on, “I suppose Rossa too.”
“Oh, there is no need to get worked up over that old witch,” a calm, cold, cultured voice says.
Hauling himself out from under the tracks of the tank, Latham throws off a quick salute and then says, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm, “Come to look over my shoulder Belathau?”
Clad in ornate, twisting black armour reminiscent of baroque wrought iron, the leader of their miserable little band looks Latham and the tanks over and says, “Perhaps. I was thinking that perhaps some more upgrades are in order?”
“I’ve already figured out how to reinforce the drive train and suspension to hold our little organic blade whirlwinds, and we’re already reaching the limits of what the machines can take in terms of markings to the gods,” Latham says with all the futility of a mechanic pleading with management not to fix what isn’t broken.
“Oh yes, I already knew that. I was rather referring to the lack of skilled gunners. Would be a shame to let all that firepower go to waste,” Belathau says coolly.
Shrugging admittance of a lack in this area, Latham replies, “And I suppose you’ve found a solution that doesn’t depend on daemons?”
“Quite. I was in meditation when the solution struck me. We can integrate the crew into the tank,” Belathau says, and Latham knows that behind his ornate helmet the cruel bastard is smiling wickedly, just by the subtle shift in the red coal glow of his eyes.
“Oh?” Latham asks in a non-committal tone.
“Yes. See now the power of the gods,” Belathau says, gesturing for his bodyguards to march forward six thralls, local primitives branded with marks of Chaos to keep them compliant and ready to serve.
Once the thralls are standing dumbly inside the main compartment of one of the armoured personnel carriers, Belathau begins to weave together one of his spells. Sitting and watching with mild amusement and disgust at the sorcery, Latham witnesses the thralls begin to bind to the internal gun ports of the tank. Flesh twists and bubbles like metal sculpture in a blast furnace, and the thralls begin to come apart like piles of wet noodles in a wind tunnel.
When the spell finishes, six bodies worth of flesh are plastered to the walls, all pulsing veins and naked muscle, except for about the view ports where bulging, oversized eyes and boneless sacs of brain peer out, constantly seeking targets, the external guns now twitching along with the grotesque masses inside.
“You like?” Belathau asks, almost mockingly.
“It’ll do. Think you can weave a spell to keep those berserkers in-line while we make the crossing?” Latham asks.
“The followers of Khorne are often suspicious of magic and often shrug off attempts to control them as such. However, I will throw the bones and meditate upon the matter,” Belathau says before exiting the vehicle bay with a swirl of his cloak, his retinue marching along behind him like faithful hounds.
Once sure they’re out of earshot, Latham mutters, “Black Legion, fucking Ultramarines of Chaos,” before moving on to the next task in the tune-up.
Snorting with derisive laughter, Archer asks, “Oh, what makes you say that?”
“They’re both way too numerous for their own good and they’re both obnoxious loudmouths full of hot air that can barely get anything done without someone else kicking their asses to get going,” Latham details.
“While I might not fully agree with your assessment, I will admit it’s amusing. Got any other parallels?” Archer asks, leaning up against the APC.
“Blood Angels and World Eaters,” Latham says.
“Well duh. Why the Blood Angels don’t just realize they’re wanna-be Khornates and join the winning team I have yet to figure out,” Archer points out.
“Don’t try and get into the head of a Loyalist, the stupid might cause brain damage,” Latham retorts.
“True,” Archer replies with a shrug.
“There’re also the Salamanders and the Death Guard,” Latham says, adding to his list.
“How do you figure that one?” Archer asks while brushing some dust off his armour.
“Neither one stops for anything, ever, and you have to dismember and burn the corpses to put them down. Fortunately the Salamanders carry their own funeral pyres half the time,” Latham details.
Nodding, Archer says, “Okay, I can accept that.”
“Then there is my chapter and the Iron Hands,” Latham says while hauling out a piece of the drive-train for the tracks.
“Another obvious one,” Archer says.
“Imperial Fists and Word Bearers, both loony fanatics,” Latham says while examining a partly worn down gear.
“Getting a bit harder to make the parallels, but I’ll accept that one for the sake of the argument,” Archer says, picking up a tool and handing it to Latham before he even asks for it.
“Space Wolves and Emperor’s Children, who I might add get less respect from me as a legion than the Black Legion for being badly in need of a name change. And before you ask, it’s because they both love to scream their heads off and rip people apart with their bare hands,” Latham says, readjusting a few parts to try and compensate for the wear and tear.
“I think I can accept that,” Archer shrugs.
“White Scars and Night Lords,” Latham says.
“Close enough.”
“Raven Guard and your Alpha Legion,” Latham half suggests.
“Motherfuckers,” Archer spits.
Putting the part back in, Latham says, “Looks like I hit a soft spot. This leaves the Thousand Sons and the Dark Angels… doesn’t particularly fit, but they’re both gloomy and secretive.”
Shrugging, Archer replies, “Can’t win them all.”
Sealing the panel back up, Latham says, “Nope, but you can sure make the bastards pay for victory. And here you go, one STC produced pseudo-Chimera, ready for deployment to the Saltac Peninsula.”
***
Kaleb sighed, looking down at the almost over-eager Kai, both proud of the boy and worried for his safety. He knew that this day would come, just not so soon.
“Fine Kai, I guess I have no arguments this time why you can’t come with us to the Saltac Peninsula.”
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen.
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
No. I absolutely refuse to allow myself the slightest iota of sympathy for the followers of the Ruinous Powers, no matter how irritatingly likable they may seem. Beware the lies and counsels of the Enemy!
Ah, poor Kai, you picked the worst possible location for a coming-of-age trial -- well, worst possible location for the Chaos marines, that is. Now, when can we expect some righteous ass-kicking, eh?
*Cues the Imperial Guard's Priest unit from Dawn of War*
Are you ready to die for me!?
Beware the lies and counsels of the Enemy!Ah, poor Kai, you picked the worst possible location for a coming-of-age trial -- well, worst possible location for the Chaos marines, that is. Now, when can we expect some righteous ass-kicking, eh?
*Cues the Imperial Guard's Priest unit from Dawn of War*
Are you ready to die for me!?
"There is a high statistical probability of death by gunshot. A punch to the face is also likely." - Legion
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
"The machine is strong. We must purge the weak, hated flesh and replace it with the blessed purity of metal. Only through permanence can we truly triumph, only though the Machine can we find victory. Punish the flesh. Iron in mind and body. Hail the machine!" - Paullian Blantar, Iron Father of the Kaargul Clan, Iron Hands Chapter
I liked How Latham and archer made those parallels between the loyalist marines and their Chaos counterparts.
"a single death is a tragedy, a million deaths are a statistic"-Joseph Stalin
"No plan survives contact with the enemy"-Helmuth Von Moltke
"Women prefer stories about one person dying slowly. Men prefer stories of many people dying quickly."-Niles from Frasier.
"No plan survives contact with the enemy"-Helmuth Von Moltke
"Women prefer stories about one person dying slowly. Men prefer stories of many people dying quickly."-Niles from Frasier.
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Academia Nut
- Sith Devotee
- Posts: 2598
- Joined: 2005-08-23 10:44pm
- Location: Edmonton, Alberta
Hehehe... I was actually planning on having Latham make a last stand at the STC, until I realized that he had some interesting character traits that could be expanded upon. Right now, I kind of like to think of him as a manager from hell, an evil yet consumate professional stuck in the pits of lower management by office politics and bad luck. In fact, I now have a silly idea of Latham being banished to the Dilbert-universe and becoming the team leader of a maintence shift, lording what little paper power he has over his underlings while joining them in bitching about the idiocy of middle and upper management.
He would of course have the most well fortified cubicle on the planet, with binder walls thick enough to stop a bolter round
He would of course have the most well fortified cubicle on the planet, with binder walls thick enough to stop a bolter round
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen.
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Academia Nut wrote:Hehehe... I was actually planning on having Latham make a last stand at the STC, until I realized that he had some interesting character traits that could be expanded upon. Right now, I kind of like to think of him as a manager from hell, an evil yet consumate professional stuck in the pits of lower management by office politics and bad luck. In fact, I now have a silly idea of Latham being banished to the Dilbert-universe and becoming the team leader of a maintence shift, lording what little paper power he has over his underlings while joining them in bitching about the idiocy of middle and upper management.
He would of course have the most well fortified cubicle on the planet, with binder walls thick enough to stop a bolter round
heh. In all seriousness, It's always cool when the bad guys at least have some good qualities. More believable, and more fun to read about. Who would want to hear a Khornate talk of slaughter all day anyway?-
Vehrec
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- Contact:
Heh, well I think that the Khornites spend most of their downtime obsessing over how to kill things better. They talk about grappling vs striking, and then try it out. Of course, the first one to tap has to go get another skull for the pile as a apology to Khorne. Then they discuss the advantages of different bolter loads.
Commander of the MFS Darwinian Selection Method (sexual)
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Academia Nut
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- Location: Edmonton, Alberta
Naw, it wouldn't be an equipment shop. It would be a nice, tastefully decorated cigar room where they all assemble wearing smoking jackets, pipes, and holding brandy glasses of blood (they are Khornites) and discussing the merits of the individual designs in upper class British accents.
"I say good chap, when it comes to destruction on a grande scale, nothing beats a good metal storm round."
"While you make a good point sir, such rounds as those are only good against unarmoured opponents. I personally prefer kraken rounds."
"Oh rubbish both of you. The classic shell is, and always shall be, the best round for all situations. There's a reason it's classic."
"Have you fellows heard of the newest thing the Imperials have cooked up? Call them hellfire rounds."
"Pish posh to all that complexity and newfangled nonsense. Positively smacks of Tzeentch what with all those chemicals and all."
"Oh dear boys, seems some Slaaneshi are milling about outside!"
"Well then by jingo I say when go down there and tell them what for, show them off and all that!"
"Yes, indeed, I think we shall."
"Ready then boyos?"
"Aye."
"Righto then. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"
"I say good chap, when it comes to destruction on a grande scale, nothing beats a good metal storm round."
"While you make a good point sir, such rounds as those are only good against unarmoured opponents. I personally prefer kraken rounds."
"Oh rubbish both of you. The classic shell is, and always shall be, the best round for all situations. There's a reason it's classic."
"Have you fellows heard of the newest thing the Imperials have cooked up? Call them hellfire rounds."
"Pish posh to all that complexity and newfangled nonsense. Positively smacks of Tzeentch what with all those chemicals and all."
"Oh dear boys, seems some Slaaneshi are milling about outside!"
"Well then by jingo I say when go down there and tell them what for, show them off and all that!"
"Yes, indeed, I think we shall."
"Ready then boyos?"
"Aye."
"Righto then. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen.
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists