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by NoPoet

[40K] Marneus Calgar’s Barmy Army: Calgar’s Kidney Stone (part 2)

25/12/2014 in Warhammer 40K

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“Where’s that bloody tech marine?”

Dick had had to enlist three other Ultramarines to help him give a chair-lift to Marneus Calgar. The fat, complaining Chapter Master had point-blank refused to strip out of his armour for the journey. He was paranoid about “That new girl seeing my nipples”.

They’d worked up a fine sweat by the time they reached the transport bay. Unfortunately the bay, which was more of a circular, open-air arena which perpetually stank of promethium, was almost empty. The floor of the bay was streaked with black stains. Above them, the winter sky was a brooding presence.

“He’s uninstalling Firefox from all our computer systems, sir, and loading Opera in their place.”

“Why in the name of Bob Hoskins did I ask him to do that?”

“You need to work harder on those memory tests, sir. The Inquisition declared Firefox to be more bloated than Nurgle’s colon and you were sick of having your computer freeze for five minutes every time you started Firefox up. Said the waiting made your bollocks retract into your hips.”

“Tech-Priest Nerdingham is the laziest, most unmotivated slob in the region,” said Calgar without irony. “The first time he ever does anything I ask him to is the day my kidney goes kamikaze. He was supposed to be working on the Rhinos today!”

“You put the fear of Guilliman into him, my Lord, by threatening him thus: ‘I don’t give a flying feth about the tanks, mate, you either install Opera or spend five minutes in the nerve glove, pain level ‘watching the European intro to Gran Turismo 5.'”

“That’s quite a good impression of me,” Calgar said, not sure whether to be impressed or go into one of his tantrums. “You even pronounced our Primarch’s name correctly. Hardly anybody does that.”

(Unfortunately, dear reader, even I don’t know how to pronounce that name, and I’ve been taking it in vein for more than a decade!)

There was a familiar buzzing crack; not of the lord Calgar’s flatulence for a delightful change, but an incoming lasgun shot.

“Look out, sir!” Dick yelled, almost flipping the Chapter Master out of their grasp as he tumbled the group of Ultramarines sideways.

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by NoPoet

[40K] Marneus Calgar’s Barmy Army: Calgar’s Kidney Stone (part 1)

23/12/2014 in Warhammer 40K

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Marneus Calgar’s Barmy Army: Calgar’s Kidney Stone

A Warhammer 40,000 parody by NoPoet

Synopsis: Gasp and vomit your way through this insulting, lavatory-humour farce in which the Lord Calgar, whom my Windows Surface tablet thinks should be called “Marines Calgary”, is menaced by a nasty kidney stone… oh, and an invasion of Nurgle. All Calgar wanted to do was use the toilet…

The Marneus Calgar’s Barmy Army Official Anthem

With special thanks to the track author, Dummy, and OC ReMix

==||==

Calgar’s Kidney Stone

-or-

Calgar’s Discomfitting Kidney Mishap

-or-

Marneus Calgar: A Profane, Blasphemous and Intelligence-Insulting Anecdote of One Man’s Unfortunate Circumstance

==||==

PART ONE – THE MADNESS BEGINS… AGAIN

Welcome to Macragge, home to the most pious Imperial servants: an entire Chapter of devout warrior-monks, heroic noblemen whose lives are constantly on the line so trillions of robe-wearing minions can scribe things that someone else chucks in the bin. Macragge is a rocky and cold world, a place where dwell men of legend… and their glorious leader, Marneus Calgar.

“OW!” roared Lord Calgar from his uncompromising squat on the Crapper of Macragge. “My fething piles are playing up. They’re throbbing like alien brains in a B-movie.”

“Then stop sitting down with a thump, sir!” Dick called from outside the door. “Remember what the apothecary said: don’t provoke the piles!

“I’ll provoke the little bastards when I pop them with a power sword and cauterise them with a hand flamer! Even if it itches like a fething bitch, it will be a blessed relief compared to this! I feel like I stuck my arse in a nerve glove set to ‘exterminatus’. Or maybe ‘exterminanus’.”

“My Lord?”

“It was bawdy lavatory humour, Bannerman. You can feel free to laugh.”

“Oh,” Dick said. “Ha. Ha.”

“Nobody ever gets my jokes,” said Marneus Calgar as the toilet strained beneath his podgy rolls. “You know something, Number Two? These aren’t just piles. They’re rancid visitations. Every time I try to push, I get a stabbing pain in my lower back.”

“You might be wiping too hard, sir,” Dick offered. “We can hear bog roll tearing and shuffling in there for twenty minutes every time you have a crap. It’s bound to play havoc with your ring region.”

“You may be right, Number Two,” Calgar conceded. “Oh, speaking of bog roll, some silly tosser used the last of my Andrex. Fetch us a couple of rolls, will you?”

“Which kind, my Lord?”

“Er… natural pebble, because their marketing executives called it that with a straight face. Fair play to them, their will is clearly stronger than mine. And tell the lads to stop pinching it, I’m supposed to be the only person who comes in here at stopping-off time.”

“You are the only person who goes in there, you big fat bog-roll wasting bell end,” Dick muttered as he headed for the pantry, where Calgar hid his Andrex.

“Oh, and Number Two?” Calgar said.

“You shouldn’t really use that nickname when you’re in there, sir,” Bannerman said, coming back. “I never actually know if it’s me you’re talking to.”

“I do apologise, Dick. I’m only the Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, who am I to address my underlings in the manner of my choosing?”

“What is it, sir?” said Dick, wisely changing tack.

“Can you explain to me the function of Lyman’s ear?”

“Er, no, to be honest. Do you still want that toilet roll? Only, Milo and I are organising a Forza tournament -”

“The Lyman’s Ear, you great blasphemous tit, allows me to hear everything you say within a football field’s radius, even above the constant, squeaking, gaseous emanation of my ablutions. So the next time you accuse me of wasting toilet roll, get ready for the nerve glove, pain level ‘Listening to the theme tune of classic British sitcom Dear John through headphones, on constant repeat, for five hours, without alcohol or other anaesthetic’.”

“Anything but that!” Dick cried. “My apologies, Lord Calgar. I’ll attend to your toilet roll emergency at once.”

TOOT! replied the Lord Calgar’s arsehole. It echoed for some seconds, trapped between a clogged u-bend and Calgar’s fat, spotty backside.

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by NoPoet

[40K] World Eaters (part 2)

20/10/2014 in Warhammer 40K

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A Warhammer 40,000 story by LoneLictor

Chapter Two
One Of My Turns

Beneath the ironclad boots of Lord Kaalek of the World Eaters 3rd Company, corpses squelched.

Many of Lord Kaalek’s brethren had seldom put much thought in their daemonic allegiances. They just saw Chaos as a means to an end; the Pleasure God would empower them to indulge every whim and desire, while the Blood God would empower them to strike down their enemies with inhuman strength. The Rot Lord and the Change Lord would empower them to truly live, driving them to greater and greater heights. These Astartes, which were especially prevelant among the Undivided Legions, rarely considered the perspective and thoughts of the Gods. Many didn’t believe the Gods to be sentient at all, viewing them as forces of nature. “The warp”, they called it, not Chaos. No, just “the warp”. Even those who acknowledged the Gods referred to them by mortal names with shocking disrespect. “Khorne,” they said, as if a single syllable could express all that the Blood God was.

Kaalek was not one of these Astartes. When the Blood God had first whispered to the World Eaters, Kaalek hadn’t immediately consigned himself to damnation. He refused to act as mindlessly as the men under his command did, allying themselves with Chaos without even the slightest understanding of what it was. Kaalek had required persuasion.

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by NoPoet

[40K] The Rising Tide of Filth (40K version)

27/09/2013 in Warhammer 40K

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057.M36 Founding of the Angels Vigilant

Positioned towards the galactic north-west, defending an obscure approach into Imperial space from the Eye of Terror, a thousand brothers were born into ignorance and fear. The forges of the False Emperor provided us with fine wargear with which we pursued a hopeless mission: to stem the wrath of the Gods themselves.

066.M36 The Order of Carrion

Traitors attacked our Chapter’s recruiting worlds. Plague began to break out among the human populace. This was no physical illness. This was a contamination of the will, of the spirit, which turned great men into hateful wretches and devout warrior-priests into faithless prophets of doom. Great indeed was the shame of this time. Yet our Chapter endured.

We did not know it at the time but we were marked for greatness by a Power older and more wicked than the False Emperor of Terra. Not a single Angel Vigilant fell to the plague. We seemed, to the hopeless, embattled populace, to be upright, untouchable warriors of vengeance as we blazed bolter fire into the hordes of plague zombies. Little did the civilians know of our desperate, miserable battles against daemons, or the Great Unclean Thing that killed half a battle company, along with two of our treasured Predator tanks, on its own.

We remembered this display of might and later we would view our lost brothers as a sacrifice to the Grandfather… an appeasement… a downpayment on immortality for those of us who survived.

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by NoPoet

[20K] Revised 20K Timeline (updated April 2013)

17/03/2013 in 20K, Imp Lit News

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20K is the unofficial Warhammer 40,000 prequel series which I have been working on for a number of years. There are two “phases” to 20K and three “series” of stories.

PHASE ONE
The early stages of 20K, where humanity is emerging from its safe bases in Solar Segment and beginning to explore the galaxy, hoping to make contact with the fabled One Hundred Worlds. Human technology is limited and humanity begins to learn that alien races are generally hostile and untrustworthy.

PHASE TWO
A more confident and technically proficient

The following is a rough timeline including every 20K story that I am writing or plan to write. I have tried to remove as many spoilers as possible. Note that the timeline is subject to change and is undergoing constant revision.
This is “phase one” of 20K, a desperate time of derring-do. Phase 2, if I ever get that far, has a more mature and more adventurous tone with less of the grimness and grittiness of some of the earlier stories. Look for the crossovers and in-jokes as they appear. Fans of 40K as well as fans of general science fiction should find lots to be happy about.
Please ignore any repetitions or minor mistakes, this is the beta version and I already have the events right in my mind.
20K PHASE 1
40K’s mysterious and exciting history finally comes to life in tales of terror and adventure. Join the brave human pioneers of the Terran Empire as they begin their expansion into a galaxy where anything is possible.
KEY:
FRL = Fearless series
EW = Earthwatch series
SOL = Solstice series
Stories which do not have a series designation are independent stories (in TV parlance they would be “bottle shows”)
NOTE: Significant information is (deliberately) missing from the following timeline! Dates and events are subject to change.
===
20K Date Timeline
Pre-M21
Date Unknown – The Eldar race has become factionalised by hedonism and decadence. Illegal fighting contests and worship of the proscribed god Khaine slowly overtake the fabled city-state of Commoranth, the City of Souls.
Date Unknown – A Chinasian colony receives human visitors who claim to be from the future. These visitors, mighty warriors who say their home planet was destroyed in a cataclysmic war, lend their efforts to the colony’s Human Genhancement Project – with horrific results. (“Faithless”)-[NOTE: This story is currently in progress as of August 2013]
M21
975.M21 – Starships of the Alneran Republic, a hostile alien species whose territory lies within Solar Segment, encounter a mysterious alien being and take him prisoner. The strange hostage escapes when a Terran Navy ship attacks the Alnerans; the being will later turn up in Terran space, where his strange behaviour confounds his human rescuers. (“The Man Without A Past”)-[NOTE: This story is currently in progress as of March 2013]
978.M21 – XMS Southern Cross encounters R’Shan, a member of an unidentified alien species who has been conducting unknown warp experiments within Terran space. (“The Man From Nowhere”)
978.M21 – The Fireblade prototype fighter begins its initial tests, intended to replace the Saxon class fighter. While on combat manoeuvres, a squadron of Fireblades falls foul of a renegade Eldar space fighter. (“Flight of the Fireblade”)
985.M21 – The Centaur class light cruiser is commissioned, intended as a gradual replacement for the legendary Canyon class.
985.M21 – The Terran Empire discovers the first known Warp Gate within Solar Segment.
986.M21 – XMS Ontario and XMS Lexington are sent to investigate the Warp Gate. During the mission, a previously unknown problem with the Ontario’s Gellar Shield hurls the ship into a time-travelling, galaxy-spanning adventure, during which humanity makes first contact with followers of the daemon god Nurgle. (“Ghostwalkers”) [NOTE: This story is currently being revised as of March 2013]
986.M21 – An expedition team of the Pan-Pacific Treaty, a coalition of coporations and nation-states who wish to remain independent of the Terran Empire, discovers a world belonging to the long-vanished Chinasian Bloc. The world has long been abandoned, but the expedition discovers disturbing evidence that the colonists had been conducting genetic experiments influenced by men who claimed to have travelled from the distant future – a time of terrible civil war. (“Legacy of the Future”)
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Banners Held High I – Recruit

05/12/2012 in Warhammer 40K

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BANNERS HELD HIGH I – RECRUIT

A Warhammer 40,000 story by RedPen1089

Over the smoke and the screams, atop even the mighty canyon pillars of the hive city’s incomprehensible heights, he could make out the banners.

The hab-lighting had been cut out or shot out.  From his crawlspace, under the largest single-iron lumin-pole, the dim figures clustering at the artery’s mouth was legion.  Beyond number.  Thousands upon thousands of figures, pressed together in a line two dozen men wide, and easily just as deep.  The Evernight of Mordian’s habitable half gave the milling figures presence.  Even at two kilometres, the roared commands and boot-thumps reached his frayed, dirty ears.

He couldn’t tell what time it was.  None of the decaying city-slum quarters had chronometers.  The buildings he sheltered beside weren’t full of the twinkle and glow of the Upper Echelons- they were dark, rust-ensnared shells of industries long dead, long decayed.  Faint cogs adorned the kilometre-high black-grey superstructures; the leavings of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

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[40K] FORGED IN FAITH: A story of the Imperial Hammers

05/12/2012 in Warhammer 40K

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“Arkus Prime was once a shining beacon of hope, in the dark endless void of space. It was a shrine world, and every inch was sacred and devoted to ‘Him on Earth.’ It was once one of the most sacred places one might ever make a pilgrimage to, apart from Holy Terra herself. As brightly as it once had shined,  it was now as equally desecrated. Blighted and fouled, Arkus Prime is now a charnel house. The world’s population down to the last man, woman and child, lay slaughtered in the defiled temples and chapels throughout the single continent of ArkusPrime…sacrificed in an orgy of death and blood in the name of Khorne.”
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by Dae

Thirty Minutes

25/05/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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$100 Contest Entry by Dae

———–

The world was dying, reflected Alexan Fiercen. Gazing through the viewing panel of his Thunderhawk as it moved slowly across space, he contemplated the planet below. It had been a busy world, with industries pumping out goods and weapons at incredible rates and hive cities whose highest spires reached up to the skies. Yes, thought the marine, this world had been alive, but now was meeting it’s end. The spires lay smashed at the feet of the Hives, themselves reduced to rubble by the pounding of artillery barrages. Only a handful of the factories were still active, and no more smoke billowed out from the forests of chimneys in the industrial zones, instead coming from the thousands of fires that ravaged the planet.

One month to destroy a world, one month since the ships of the fleet had deactivated their Warp Engines and translated back into normal space, fighting off the naval task forces sent to stop them before smashing through the inner defence ring. Fiercen looked again, savoring the view. The taste of the revenge to come was sweet, so sweet! One thousand years ago, they had cast him and his brothers away, and now they would see how foolish they had been. How had they not seen he only wanted to serve? Why had they rejected all negotiation? And why, most of all, had they hunted his brothers down because they tried to use the most efficient weapons ever designed?

Under the guidance of Lord Hueco and Father Nurgle, the Plague had rebuilt it’s forces and grown so much stronger than it was before. Use the enemy’s tactics against him, had said Lord Hueco, and Fiercen had obeyed, just like his battle-brothers. For almost one millennium now, they had conducted raids and plunders, sometimes larger incursions, the Imperium proving to be an endless reservoir of targets for their experiments.

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Reunion

09/03/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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I was up and dressed so early on the morning of Saint Stefan’s Day. My foster parents had bought the beige blazer especially, so that I could wear it for the evening parade. The blazer matched well with my light brown knee-length shorts and my neatly polished mahogany brown boots. I remember allowing myself a smile as I looked in the full-length mirror, at the same time thinking that I wouldn’t get a beating from Haltek today. The mirror didn’t lie; the left side of my chest was already a gorgeous swirl of black, purple and yellow bruising from the previous evening’s pounding. All that I had done was to spill my drink across the table at dinner. My foster mother, Anna, never stepped in to help despite my tears and screams. The neighbours were just as bad; they must have known what was happening, yet they also did nothing. Still, the bruises had soon gone away, they always did, my body had become accustomed to fighting them and usually they were gone within a week.

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by LIRR

Through the Eyes of a Traitor

14/11/2008 in Warhammer 40K

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Damascus, veteran sergeant of the 1st Company. Ultramarine. Four hundred and sixty eight years old. Four and a half centuries of loyal service and constant warfare. Now naked. Arms and legs stretched to their limits, locked in chains with adamantium and arcane powers. Putrid worms slowly slid across the flooring, leaving trails of slime in their wake. Hooded and hunched figures moved in the shadows, just beyond the powerful and bright white cone of light aimed down at Damascus from directly above. The hooded figures reminded the Marine of Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus, reminded him of a warped and twisted mockery of their ancient and holy technologies. The hunched and robed figures mutated and deformed, mocking the sacred bionics of Mars with blasphemous genetic deviations.

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