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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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[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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[WHFB] The Rising Tide of Filth

27/09/2013 in Warhammer Fantasy

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#1: The Breaking of the Kurgan

Our settlement had grown large, not through conquest, but through farming. We sustained a population by feeding them while making the proper obeisance to Neiglen, Grandfather Nurgle, who is the god of fecundity as well as the god of decay.

My people had not become soft. The occasional terror of a Chimera attack meant we were always vigilant, and the followers of the Crow God would like little more than to divine their fate by studying our innards.

Yet it was neither beast nor Crow Brethren that saw our destruction. Khorne had looked upon our settlement and found our warrior spirit wanting, for he despises the man who lays down his sword to take up the implements of the farmer, especially when that man is a capable fighter.

The Kurgan horde attacked us in full daylight, giving warning enough to prepare ourselves. Still we suffered many casualties, warriors of the Blood God swiping axes and hellblades in strikes that disembowelled and drew great gouts of blood. They attacked with fury rather than skill, yet somehow the speed and strength of their rage overmatched our discipline, so we knew the Kurgan were favoured indeed.

I was cut down and my guts hit the dirt a heartbeat before my body. As I lay dying, flies began to land upon my exposed vitals. We had always suspected that our tribe carried the favour of Nurgle and as I saw putrefaction spreading across my flesh, I knew the Plague God would hear me. While I prayed, I lost the strength to speak, so I finished the plea in my thoughts.

“Please, Lord Nurgle,” I whispered. Flies landed on my face and began to crawl down my throat. It took me a moment to realise they were chewing into my tongue.  “Give me the strength to strike back against these blood-mad heathens. Give me the chance to avenge my people and I will serve you.”

My child, a voice seemed to say in my head. I could hear flies buzzing madly in my ears, feel them burrowing into my skin to lay their eggs.

My child, I do not abandon faithful servants to the torments of other hells, other deities. Am I not a loving God? Is my intervention not inevitable? I have come to claim you and your people, but you shall serve me with your lives, not your deaths.

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[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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[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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[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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Carry the Torch

01/06/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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One black-clad figure dashed from cover, his mesh-armor shaking as his feet pounded the ferrocrete floor. Three others moved after him, sprinting from behind the barricade, shotguns aimed at the door. Neal, the fifth, ran towards the door as his squadmates moved to the sides of the entrance, pressing up against the wall, preparing for the next move. Neal unhooked the demo-charge from his belt, and he slammed it against the steel door. He thumbed the activation rune, priming the bomb; then moved aside quickly. Boom. The explosion was loud, and Neal felt the force of the blast through the ground, but the earpieces in his helmet blocked the sound.

The Arbites squad leader tossed a gas-grenade into the room as the noise of the demolition faded. Neal heard the hiss as the gas escaped the grenade. His helmet sensors interpreted the sound and the thermal scan of the room, and his HUD lit up with a view of the room, a warning indicator showing the location of the gas grenade. The ancient manufactorum was massive, and the tiny map in the top corner of Neal’s HUD betrayed the room’s real size.

The squad leader-a man of great reputation, Captain Brandt-entered the room, his swift movement representative of his penchant for “shock-and-awe” tactics. Brandt’s HUD would show him a very accurate picture of what the room held, but there was still no comparison to the feeling of seeing a room filled with the yellow glow of a floodlight.

The squad switched on their helmet-lamps, and the room was washed with light. This way, any occupants would be blinded, and if they couldn’t see, they were more likely to miss if they took a shot at the squad. Of course, the auspex hadn’t detected anything, but it always paid to make sure. Especially when one’s life was on the line…

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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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