Volsung
18th Jun 04, 8:04 AM
THE LONGEST 40K JOKE LIST EVER!
Brought to you by The Smoking Bolter (link in my sig)
And now, these are all jokes about 40k universe I could find. You can blame yourselves for this, it's your jokes that set me on this cruise course. Prepare for... THE JOKE BOMBING!
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!
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
------------------------------------------
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
This was posted by comic genius known as "Tzaphiel the Apostate" on the Bolter and Chainsword:
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!
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!
How did you like it?
100 things I would do if I was a Chaos Warlord
My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexiglass visors, not face-concealing ones.
My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through.
My noble half-brother whose throne I usurped will be killed, not kept anonymously imprisoned in a forgotten cell of my dungeon.
Shooting is not too good for my enemies.
The artifact which is the source of my power will not be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safe-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness.
I will not gloat over my enemies' predicament before killing them.
When I've captured my adversary and he says, "Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?" I'll say, "No." and shoot him. No, on second thought I'll shoot him then say "No."
After I kidnap the beautiful princess, we will be married immediately in a quiet civil ceremony, not a lavish spectacle in three weeks' time during which the final phase of my plan will be carried out.
I will not include a self-destruct mechanism unless absolutely necessary. If it is necessary, it will not be a large red button labelled "Danger: Do Not Push". The big red button marked "Do Not Push" will instead trigger a spray of bullets on anyone stupid enough to disregard it. Similarly, the ON/OFF switch will not clearly be labelled as such.
I will not interrogate my enemies in the inner sanctum -- a small hotel well outside my borders will work just as well.
I will be secure in my superiority. Therefore, I will feel no need to prove it by leaving clues in the form of riddles or leaving my weaker enemies alive to show they pose no threat.
One of my advisors will be an average five-year-old child. Any flaws in my plan that he is able to spot will be corrected before implementation.
All slain enemies will be cremated, or at least have several rounds of ammunition emptied into them, not left for dead at the bottom of the cliff. The announcement of their deaths, as well as any accompanying celebration, will be deferred until after the aforementioned disposal.
The hero is not entitled to a last kiss, a last cigarette, or any other form of last request.
I will never employ any device with a digital countdown. If I find that such a device is absolutely unavoidable, I will set it to activate when the counter reaches 117 and the hero is just putting his plan into operation.
I will never utter the sentence "But before I kill you, there's just one thing I want to know."
When I employ people as advisors, I will occasionally listen to their advice.
I will not have a son. Although his laughably under-planned attempt to usurp power would easily fail, it would provide a fatal distraction at a crucial point in time.
I will not have a daughter. She would be as beautiful as she was evil, but one look at the hero's rugged countenance and she'd betray her own father.
Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. When so occupied, it's too easy to miss unexpected developments that a more attentive individual could adjust to accordingly.
I will hire a talented fashion designer to create original uniforms for my Legions of Terror, as opposed to some cheap knock-offs that make them look like Nazi stormtroopers, Roman footsoldiers, or savage Mongol hordes. All were eventually defeated and I want my troops to have a more positive mind-set.
No matter how tempted I am with the prospect of unlimited power, I will not consume any energy field bigger than my head.
I will keep a special cache of low-tech weapons and train my troops in their use. That way -- even if the heroes manage to neutralize my power generator and/or render the standard-issue energy weapons useless -- my troops will not be overrun by a handful of savages armed with spears and rocks.
I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line "No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!!!" (After that, death is usually instantaneous.)
No matter how well it would perform, I will never construct any sort of machinery which is completely indestructible except for one small and virtually inaccessible vulnerable spot.
No matter how attractive certain members of the rebellion are, there is probably someone just as attractive who is not desperate to kill me. Therefore, I will think twice before ordering a prisoner sent to my bedchamber.
I will never build only one of anything important. All important systems will have redundant control panels and power supplies. For the same reason I will always carry at least two fully loaded weapons at all times.
My pet monster will be kept in a secure cage from which it cannot escape and into which I could not accidentally stumble.
I will dress in bright and cheery colors, and so throw my enemies into confusion.
All bumbling conjurers, clumsy squires, no-talent bards, and cowardly thieves in the land will be preemptively put to death. My foes will surely give up and abandon their quest if they have no source of comic relief.
All naive, busty tavern wenches in my realm will be replaced with surly, world-weary waitresses who will provide no unexpected reinforcement and/or romantic subplot for the hero or his sidekick.
I will not fly into a rage and kill a messenger who brings me bad news just to illustrate how evil I really am. Good messengers are hard to come by.
I won't require high-ranking female members of my organization to wear a stainless-steel bustier. Morale is better with a more casual dress-code. Similarly, outfits made entirely from black leather will be reserved for formal occasions.
I will not turn into a snake. It never helps.
I will not grow a goatee. In the old days they made you look diabolic. Now they just make you look like a disaffected member of Generation X.
I will not imprison members of the same party in the same cell block, let alone the same cell. If they are important prisoners, I will keep the only key to the cell door on my person instead of handing out copies to every bottom-rung guard in the prison.
If my trusted lieutenant tells me my Legions of Terror are losing a battle, I will believe him. After all, he's my trusted lieutenant.
If an enemy I have just killed has a younger sibling or offspring anywhere, I will find them and have them killed immediately, instead of waiting for them to grow up harboring feelings of vengeance towards me in my old age.
If I absolutely must ride into battle, I will certainly not ride at the forefront of my Legions of Terror, nor will I seek out my opposite number among his army.
I will be neither chivalrous nor sporting. If I have an unstoppable superweapon, I will use it as early and as often as possible instead of keeping it in reserve.
Once my power is secure, I will destroy all those pesky time-travel devices.
When I capture the hero, I will make sure I also get his dog, monkey, ferret, or whatever sickeningly cute little animal capable of untying ropes and filching keys happens to follow him around.
I will maintain a healthy amount of skepticism when I capture the beautiful rebel and she claims she is attracted to my power and good looks and will gladly betray her companions if I just let her in on my plans.
I will only employ bounty hunters who work for money. Those who work for the pleasure of the hunt tend to do dumb things like even the odds to give the other guy a sporting chance.
I will make sure I have a clear understanding of who is responsible for what in my organization. For example, if my general screws up I will not draw my weapon, point it at him, say "And here is the price for failure," then suddenly turn and kill some random underling.
If an advisor says to me "My liege, he is but one man. What can one man possibly do?", I will reply "This." and kill the advisor.
If I learn that a callow youth has begun a quest to destroy me, I will slay him while he is still a callo
Brought to you by The Smoking Bolter (link in my sig)
And now, these are all jokes about 40k universe I could find. You can blame yourselves for this, it's your jokes that set me on this cruise course. Prepare for... THE JOKE BOMBING!
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!
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
------------------------------------------
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
This was posted by comic genius known as "Tzaphiel the Apostate" on the Bolter and Chainsword:
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!
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!
How did you like it?
100 things I would do if I was a Chaos Warlord
My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexiglass visors, not face-concealing ones.
My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through.
My noble half-brother whose throne I usurped will be killed, not kept anonymously imprisoned in a forgotten cell of my dungeon.
Shooting is not too good for my enemies.
The artifact which is the source of my power will not be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safe-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness.
I will not gloat over my enemies' predicament before killing them.
When I've captured my adversary and he says, "Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?" I'll say, "No." and shoot him. No, on second thought I'll shoot him then say "No."
After I kidnap the beautiful princess, we will be married immediately in a quiet civil ceremony, not a lavish spectacle in three weeks' time during which the final phase of my plan will be carried out.
I will not include a self-destruct mechanism unless absolutely necessary. If it is necessary, it will not be a large red button labelled "Danger: Do Not Push". The big red button marked "Do Not Push" will instead trigger a spray of bullets on anyone stupid enough to disregard it. Similarly, the ON/OFF switch will not clearly be labelled as such.
I will not interrogate my enemies in the inner sanctum -- a small hotel well outside my borders will work just as well.
I will be secure in my superiority. Therefore, I will feel no need to prove it by leaving clues in the form of riddles or leaving my weaker enemies alive to show they pose no threat.
One of my advisors will be an average five-year-old child. Any flaws in my plan that he is able to spot will be corrected before implementation.
All slain enemies will be cremated, or at least have several rounds of ammunition emptied into them, not left for dead at the bottom of the cliff. The announcement of their deaths, as well as any accompanying celebration, will be deferred until after the aforementioned disposal.
The hero is not entitled to a last kiss, a last cigarette, or any other form of last request.
I will never employ any device with a digital countdown. If I find that such a device is absolutely unavoidable, I will set it to activate when the counter reaches 117 and the hero is just putting his plan into operation.
I will never utter the sentence "But before I kill you, there's just one thing I want to know."
When I employ people as advisors, I will occasionally listen to their advice.
I will not have a son. Although his laughably under-planned attempt to usurp power would easily fail, it would provide a fatal distraction at a crucial point in time.
I will not have a daughter. She would be as beautiful as she was evil, but one look at the hero's rugged countenance and she'd betray her own father.
Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. When so occupied, it's too easy to miss unexpected developments that a more attentive individual could adjust to accordingly.
I will hire a talented fashion designer to create original uniforms for my Legions of Terror, as opposed to some cheap knock-offs that make them look like Nazi stormtroopers, Roman footsoldiers, or savage Mongol hordes. All were eventually defeated and I want my troops to have a more positive mind-set.
No matter how tempted I am with the prospect of unlimited power, I will not consume any energy field bigger than my head.
I will keep a special cache of low-tech weapons and train my troops in their use. That way -- even if the heroes manage to neutralize my power generator and/or render the standard-issue energy weapons useless -- my troops will not be overrun by a handful of savages armed with spears and rocks.
I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line "No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!!!" (After that, death is usually instantaneous.)
No matter how well it would perform, I will never construct any sort of machinery which is completely indestructible except for one small and virtually inaccessible vulnerable spot.
No matter how attractive certain members of the rebellion are, there is probably someone just as attractive who is not desperate to kill me. Therefore, I will think twice before ordering a prisoner sent to my bedchamber.
I will never build only one of anything important. All important systems will have redundant control panels and power supplies. For the same reason I will always carry at least two fully loaded weapons at all times.
My pet monster will be kept in a secure cage from which it cannot escape and into which I could not accidentally stumble.
I will dress in bright and cheery colors, and so throw my enemies into confusion.
All bumbling conjurers, clumsy squires, no-talent bards, and cowardly thieves in the land will be preemptively put to death. My foes will surely give up and abandon their quest if they have no source of comic relief.
All naive, busty tavern wenches in my realm will be replaced with surly, world-weary waitresses who will provide no unexpected reinforcement and/or romantic subplot for the hero or his sidekick.
I will not fly into a rage and kill a messenger who brings me bad news just to illustrate how evil I really am. Good messengers are hard to come by.
I won't require high-ranking female members of my organization to wear a stainless-steel bustier. Morale is better with a more casual dress-code. Similarly, outfits made entirely from black leather will be reserved for formal occasions.
I will not turn into a snake. It never helps.
I will not grow a goatee. In the old days they made you look diabolic. Now they just make you look like a disaffected member of Generation X.
I will not imprison members of the same party in the same cell block, let alone the same cell. If they are important prisoners, I will keep the only key to the cell door on my person instead of handing out copies to every bottom-rung guard in the prison.
If my trusted lieutenant tells me my Legions of Terror are losing a battle, I will believe him. After all, he's my trusted lieutenant.
If an enemy I have just killed has a younger sibling or offspring anywhere, I will find them and have them killed immediately, instead of waiting for them to grow up harboring feelings of vengeance towards me in my old age.
If I absolutely must ride into battle, I will certainly not ride at the forefront of my Legions of Terror, nor will I seek out my opposite number among his army.
I will be neither chivalrous nor sporting. If I have an unstoppable superweapon, I will use it as early and as often as possible instead of keeping it in reserve.
Once my power is secure, I will destroy all those pesky time-travel devices.
When I capture the hero, I will make sure I also get his dog, monkey, ferret, or whatever sickeningly cute little animal capable of untying ropes and filching keys happens to follow him around.
I will maintain a healthy amount of skepticism when I capture the beautiful rebel and she claims she is attracted to my power and good looks and will gladly betray her companions if I just let her in on my plans.
I will only employ bounty hunters who work for money. Those who work for the pleasure of the hunt tend to do dumb things like even the odds to give the other guy a sporting chance.
I will make sure I have a clear understanding of who is responsible for what in my organization. For example, if my general screws up I will not draw my weapon, point it at him, say "And here is the price for failure," then suddenly turn and kill some random underling.
If an advisor says to me "My liege, he is but one man. What can one man possibly do?", I will reply "This." and kill the advisor.
If I learn that a callow youth has begun a quest to destroy me, I will slay him while he is still a callo