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by javelin98

A Little Sleep

21/04/2010 in Warhammer 40K

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Yevenov shuffled through the mud.  He was nearly blind in the pre-dawn gloom.  The sky was just starting to lighten from midnight black to the ruddy grey that promised a light drizzle for the foreseeable future.

He was exhausted to the point that he occasionally fell asleep while the column of troopers slogged their way through the murk to their next fighting position.  Despite the uncomfortable helmet, the sling of his lasgun cutting into his shoulder, his cold wet feet, and all the other minor annoyances that are a standard part of the infantryman’s life, he still managed to doze off while keeping his feet moving, one after the other.  Sometimes he would bump into the man in front of him.

Even when he wasn’t sleepwalking, his eyes would cross with fatigue, leading him to stumble on the uneven ground or bump up against another trooper with the clack and clatter of equipment.  He wasn’t the only one, and occasionally the sergeant leading the column would turn and swear quietly at them to keep the noise down and pay attention.

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by Gareth Lorn

I Am Reikonscian

26/02/2010 in Warhammer 40K

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Sometimes, under the darkness of the dead of night, beneath the wisps of hope cast off by the glowing moon, I think of home. The beautiful countryside, a crisp road cutting through the untamed hills. The twinkling stars. Reikonscia. When I’m under that moonlight, I sometimes look up at those stars, and they give me strength. It’s just like being back home. No matter where I am, that view is always the same. Always the same stars. Occasionally I’ll even try to figure out which one is my star, which one is my home. I wonder: maybe someone back home is out there looking at me now, gazing out at the night sky and counting the twinkles. Then I smile, just in case. And maybe, just maybe, they smile back.

And then are the screams. There’s always the screams, next. They take me out of my nostalgia, my thinking. It doesn’t matter what kinds of screams. The bellowing Orks from Isendor, or the cackling monsters on Everos Prime, or the screams of Corporal Violet as she writhed on the ground, clawing at the spikes embedded in her stomach. The screams would some, and I would look away from the vastness of the sky, the stars, the moon. I would return to reality, to the mission; there was rarely time to enjoy the stars. Unlike the universe they inhabited, I lived in a much different reality. Where time was endless in the vast basin of existence itself, down here, on the surface of whatever world I was stationed on at the time, there was only war.

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by NoPoet

Marneus Calgar’s Barmy Army: 2009 Christmas Special

24/12/2009 in Warhammer 40K

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“What do you think about that weird Christmas song, ‘A Spaceman Came Travelling’?”
“I think it should be illegal to write Christmas songs while on drugs, sir.”
- Marneus Calgar and Dick Bannerman

*

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth, waiting for Gran Turismo 5 to come out. He is the master of mankind by the will of the Prophets, and master of a million worlds by the might of Andy Chambers (sob, come back Andy) and Jervis Johnson. I mean, JERVIS, for feth’s sake? That’s not even a real name, it sounds like something from Dungeons and Dragons, no offence.

The Emperor is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from technology invented during NoPoet’s forthcoming 20K series. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium (the Emperor, not NoPoet) for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. We’re sure he is really happy about that.

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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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