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by NoPoet

[40K] Rise of the Tau (part 1)

20/10/2014 in Warhammer 40K

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A Warhammer 40,000 epic by Revenant

Introduction

Time most distant, future’s zenith.
In tears, the star-sea mourns.
Isha’s children lament. All is lost to arrogance, grand designs soured by success, dreams are dust.
Shattered and done, the progeny set sail for the forever-beyond, flight borne on the tides of shame.
To dwindle and expire, forever denied.
The New Star burns too intense to douse, unchecked, untamed. Gods despair.
Tide surges, the end time is come.

Future’s path runs red as Khaine-blood, Hate-Winter rages, the portents scream their siren song. The song of Ulthanash is silent, Isha’s eye closed in slumber. Asuryan’s Shrine-light flickers and dies. The Cosmic Serpent reveals the truth and sheds his final skin. The Rebirth is denied. The Doom of Eldanesh comes to pass, the Red Moon rises.
The Rhana Dandra is come, let young and old cower before the chaos of the end.

The New Star will rise unprecedented, all the dread despoilers of the old kingdom quail beneath its fire.
Dead-King shivers on his maggot-throne as the Tide assails his walls, his kingdom lost.
Locust flees, no longer to plague creation-fields, feast denied.
Slave-puppets, once free, now lie in chains, conquered anew, rebellion’s essence bound in blood.
Long-Dead are exhumed, tombs razed. There shall be no flight, no peace in death. Their gods shall tremble.
Damned Shores become bastion as Dark Souls return. Exodus-flight before the rising swell. Denizens of Under-Kingdom cower behind its gates as the Tide surges.
Shame-Kin be damned in the bowels of the Webway, vermin scuttling in filth and terror, afraid of the ragescream storm above. Let them gather souls in shame and desperate haste, past sins quail as the All-Thirst is quenched. The brightest hope may lie amongst the darkest of shadow, the Learned Mongrel-Soul exhumed to see a destiny fulfilled.
Many Mighty Kings shall offer their swords to the Tide. None shall escape. None shall escape.

Skeins divided, hope defiant. Light and darkness heed, else collide and be damned. Fractured is as death, no other path leads to hope.
Existence-Tree be razed to its roots, bitter leaves cleansed. Then can hope’s light flicker. All forgotten to the core of creation. Then can hope’s flame catch the breeze.
Let the Lost Princes of the Young gather, shoulder to shoulder they alone may weather the Hate-Winter’s wrath.
Bright Hope’s flame still burns deep in the shadows of the Dead Land, too powerful to extinguish forever. Soul Beacon, the Horn of Kurnous will sound the call to war. They shall gather, let but some of their names be known.
The Revenant. The First-And-Ever Lords of War. The Lost Princes. The Wrathful Masters. The Reapers of Light. The Stolen Giant. The Prophet. The Last Avenger. The Entombed Ancient. The Oracle. The Blazing Rebel.
All these names and more shall stand ready as the Rhana Dandra dawns and the light of the Final Day casts her glow upon armour and weapon.

Maelstrom, life and death gather for war, old and young collide beneath the Red Moon. Origin revealed, too sour a taste to accept.
It matters not, what is, is.
Gods splintered reform in deed to counter the twilight. The children rise, menagerie gather in bitter winds of division’s death. Choice is murdered for all time, no longer sustainable in revealed irrelevance.
Diversity is power, the only power left unconsumed. Youth’s vigour an appetite insatiable above all else, desperation will rule the firmament. There can be no more old-thought. Every shadow will shift, writhe with hidden stirring. Life’s last breath must be deep.

Let them stand on the Final Shore as one, faces turned to the Tide. I have seen future’s zenith. I have seen crux and apex. Past, present and future united. Enmity is not survival. History rewritten at its very core, primeval puzzle complete.
One must tell the tale. Paths cannot be altered, only destinations revealed.
Unity. When the ash-wake clears, no more division, only Unity.
The Great Unity will prevail.

–Translation of ancient eldar tablet found on Cadia. Artefact thought to be the oldest example of eldar archaeology yet discovered.–

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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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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 (or should that be Profits?), and master of a million worlds by the might of Andy Chambers 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 for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. (2015 edit: Although the latest fluff kind of craps on that last part.)

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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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