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by NoPoet

Marneus Calgar’s Barmy Army – part 2

20/11/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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(PART TWO)

The Long March where Calgar gets into a sticky situation and Brin Milo complains of carbuncles! (The big joke being that Calgar doesn’t in fact get into a sticky situation. He just gets sneezed on for no reason. And I can’t remember why Milo never complains of carbuncles – I think I just forgot to add it in.)

Originally posted on Imperial Literature 19/12/2001 at 20:42

—

“There are times when the lights of our glorious civilisation seem destined to go out. To be a man in the forty-first millennium is to endure pain and sacrifice in the hope that one day, in some distant glorious time, our species will be free. Rawlins, I’m not gonna tell you again mate, put that magazine away or it’s the nerve glove. Our beloved Emperor and his favoured son, our Primarch Roboute Guilliman, decreed that the Ultramarines should stand firm in the face of all opposition. We have done so for ten thousand years. I know what you’re doing, son, you’re deliberately angling your watch so the light is reflecting onto my head. I might have white hair but I’m not thick you know.

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by NoPoet

Marneus Calgar’s Barmy Army: Part 1

20/11/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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= Ultramarine Chapter History =

The Astonishing War Record of the Ultramarines

30th Millennium – The Ultramarines number at least 500,000 men. God, 500,000 of the sods. Thank the Lord for Horus.

31st Millennium – Horus leads the largest warhost of Chaos ever known in the invasion of Earth. Roboute Gulliman and his entire Legion of Ultramarines are at the other side of the galaxy. Gulliman will later write the book on tactical thinking.

31st Millennium – After the Heresy army is destroyed, Gulliman writes a book of military tactics. There is a huge rush of demand for this book. Many copies were returned when it was discovered Gulliman omitted the “How to avoid pitched battles by travelling to the other end of the Milky Way on a goose chase and staying there til the war is over” chapter. It is considered a wacky coincidence that the Imperium which relies on Gulliman’s book also worships a corpse.

31st Millennium – The Ultramarines are split into numerous Chapters. Try as we might, it’s hard to find something funny to say about this. Roboute Gulliman pegs it in combat. The Ultramarines preserve his body in a sus-an field. Everyone thinks this is a bit weird, as it is like taking a deceased grandparent to the taxidermist.

32nd Millennium – By now the Ultras are charging admission to see their Primarch. Gulliman’s position within the field is altered so that he appears to be rearing up like a ferocious bear. This is very popular with children and less so with purists.

41st Millennium – Marneus Calgar is born.

*=||=*

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by considered_by_night

Tyran’s Last Day

20/11/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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And the tide of death sweeps onwards.

Darkness in the Warp, a shadow rising that drove the psykers insane with dreams of clicking claws and scraping chitin, a shadow that slashed through the cobweb-thin strands of fellowship between the worlds of humanity. In the true darkness of the void, the ships are coming, great gliding crustaceans of yellowed ivory trawling through the black desert between the stars, always seeking and moving.

Always hungry.

But before the Hive rose like a trillion-strong swarm of hideous wasps, before a name was forged from the remains of a dead and broken world, before even the twisting tendrils of a mind too vast and slow to comprehend first touched the realm of men and began to drain it dry…

A world fell to the horde, a world of raging oceans and deadly predators that knew not that they were only prey, a world that christened the death that would soon threaten every world of humanity. Tyran was consumed by the darkness of the Swarm and although the world was forgotten in the grim feast that still continues to this day, for a thousand men and women, it was home.

This is Tyran’s last day.

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by NoPoet

[20K] Ghostwalkers

16/11/2009 in 20K

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“Mission log, XMS Ontario, triple-zero-double-oh-six, M20. We are approaching the hyper-gate and are preparing for translation. While our Mechanica contingent are excited about the upcoming journey, I can’t help but wonder whether the Ontario will make the translation intact. This is the first time a manned Navy ship will travel through the hyper-gate and there is no way to know for sure what will happen while we are under way.”

Captain Thorpe sat back in her chair, looking around the familiar space of her command cabin. These new cruisers were so cramped. She’d been pushing for her own ship and now she had finally received one – now the shipbuilding project was able to supply vessels for all Navy captains – she wished she’d been assigned one of the older types, perhaps the legendary Canyon class.

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by Eric Kelley

Dwellers In the Past

12/11/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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Author’s note: Please take this work with a grain of salt. GW has written very little about the Necrons or their past. I’m taking what I know from the official canon and extrapolating wildly. Also bear in mind that the characters mentioned herein will have their own personal motives and goals. Not everything you read may be the truth or 100% accurate from their point of view. I ask only that you read the story and enjoy it for what it is.

With that, please enjoy ‘Dwellers in the Past.’

***

They called the world the Cauldron, and the marine could think of no better name for a planet so permeated by chaos. When the crimson sky did not scream with endless thundering peals of lightning and the roiling clouds did not bleed thick bloody torrents of red rain, the world sat motionless, utterly devoid of all life, sound, or thought.

Naturally, those times were the worst. No breeze stirred, no animal called, no person spoke. The ability to hear falling leaves is occasionally a curse, thought the marine even as he suppressed a wince at the relative volume of his inner voice. But of course that was foolishness. Whatever things might hear his thoughts he would certainly hear breathing in the inky darkness.

NS-1011:
Reporting Progress: Mission 0001 1100 0010 0111;
Directive 6596:
Subject Identified
Transmitting Coordinates…

NL-010:
Acknowledged
Coordinates received
Transmitting updated subject evaluation criteria…

NS-1011:
Receiving…
Checksum: OK
Encrypt Key: *** *********** ************ *******
Decrypting…
Decompressing…
Parsing…
Evaluation Criteria UPDATED

NL-010:
Resume Mission 0001 1100 0010 0111

NS-1011:
Acknowledged
Synchronizing bioelectric waveform…
Transmitting…

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by Mossy Toes

Gehemisnacht

09/11/2009 in Warhammer Fantasy

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Grotesque was aptly named. His flesh was an unhealthy shade that resembled wax, or the putrefaction of death. Bone hooks jutted from his back and gangly limbs, punched through his skin as crude jewelry. His back was exaggeratedly hunched, and his eyes—small, beady things—seemed almost luminescent.

It was almost time, now. The light-moon was gone tonight, he knew. But it was almost time that the dark-moon, the strong-moon, was to rise up. This was the night of purification. The Great One had promised a feast beyond compare.

Well, no. The Great One intended to feast beyond compare, was the truth. But his emissary, the man-of-death, he had promised that the bevy of scraps remaining would be all for Grotesque and his brethren. There was nothing in all the world that could stand in the Great One’s way, either, and so this promise of meat was one that was sure to be fulfilled. Grotesque and his like kept out of the Great One’s way as much as possible—at least, they did so after several of them had graced His teeth.

There! There was the first finger of the green light of Morrslieb on the horizon.

He and his kin kept onward through the forest. Woodsmoke drifted faintly on the air, though it was only Grotesque’s bestial sense of smell that let him detect it. It fired his imagination to higher imaginations of the desecrations they would enact, and the marrow that they would suck from splintered bones…

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by Erik Setzer

Brothers

06/11/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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BROTHERS
The tale of One Platoon, Charlie Company, First Battalion, Median IV

Prologue: In the Field
A blast of heat brushed by William Palmer’s cheek, as he took a quick look around the tree he hid behind. He brought his head back quickly, quick enough to see the shot that almost grazed his face impact on a tree not four yards away, sending splinters flying.

He checked the ammunition on his autorifle. Less than half in the clip, but he had fresh clips in his pack. He pressed his back to the tree, his heart pounding so loud he swore he could hear it in his ears. Then he jumped out from behind the tree, swinging his autorifle down to his hip.

He squeezed the trigger so hard he thought he might break it, and swung the rifle in a wide arc so that it sprayed bullets. A few aliens fell to the spray of bullets. Others were saved by their large shoulder pads, and returned fire.

William dropped down in the grass, rolling toward another tree. There he ran into someone. Looking up, his pulse quickening, he was relieved to see Robert Oliver, a fellow Guardsman.

Robert grabbed his webbing and yanked him behind the tree he was using for cover. It was wide, like all the other trees in the area. William scrambled to a kneeling position. He looked around.

Men were running, firing at aliens, taking return fire. Screams of pain came as some men were hit and killed by pulses of energy. Cries of anguish came from other men, men who had seen their best friend cut down by merciless fire. Others cursed the Emperor for not giving them the protection they needed.

This was what hell was truly like, William thought.

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by Firewing2

Why I Have Nightmares

03/11/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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Part 1

I can think of precious few things that scare me shitless like Tyranids.

Actually, nothing comes to mind at the moment, and I’ve seen some scary stuff out there. I’ve heard some guys talk about demons being worse, but they aren’t natural things. You expect something that comes straight from the warp to be freakish. To be honest they are so bizarre sometime that you are more confused than frightened. Maybe that’s just me, but the ‘nids, well, they’re natural creatures. They breathe and bleed and all that, so I suppose they are just recognizable enough to really give me the willies.

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