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Thread: Primarchs

  1. #1
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Primarchs

    SERIOUSLY IMPORTANT! READ THIS FIRST!

    Due to the unfortunate legacy of the PRIMARCHS script-fic, and to ease the minds of any moderator currently polishing their spamhammers in anticipation, could I ask that you only post on this thread if you have something really expansive to talk about. A whole paragraph at least. Anything like 'Nice Fic', or 'You Suck' please PM me!!! I hate to be this draconian but after the fate of the previous chapter in the PRIMARCHS tale I'd rather be harsh than having this thread disappear into the Warp again.

    Thanks for understanding (and if you don't ... well thanks anyway).

    Anyway, let's get on with the show! Some of you might remember the original PRIMARCHS script-fic that ran for well over a year and ended (abruptly) last year. Well ... you kept asking me about it, so ... here's more. Now stop asking. Please.

    ================================================== ===
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== =========
    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER I



    To stare into the realm of Tzeentch is to stare into limitless, formless, incomprehensible insanity without boundaries or any kind of logical structure. Or something like that, at any rate I won't bother to brutalise the English language trying to describe something language was never invented to describe in the first place. Needless to say; it's a crazy place. So when I say Tzeentch was smoking a purple chimpanzee while sipping a vertical river by the Pythagorean principle just smile and nod and go with the flow, so to speak.

    Anyway, these actions she was participating in much to her delight squared (go with it!) and wondering if the iron ball syndrome was perfect for the laser-bat principle (ah hell, I give up) …


    Tzeentch was doing stuff in her realm, pondering what had just recently occurred within the Imperial Palace with the reveal of the Plot Hole and the subsequent abduction of the Primarchs to who knows where, when it occurred to her that she had the means to answer that question. Conveniently enough it was in her back yard, metaphorically-speaking of course.


    Walking across the room (it’s not a room) she was relaxing within (she’s neither relaxing nor ‘inside’ the room, which isn’t a room anyway) she approached the window (it’s not a window) and leaned out (she neither leaned nor protruded ‘out’ because it’s not a window … you see how hard talking about the Warp is? Read Codex: Daemons sometime for a prime example) to call down to Kairos Fateweaver, who was stumbling around the garden (not a garden) mumbling to himself.


    Tzeentch:
    “HEY! GET YOUR TWO THICK … wait, I’m repeating myself”

    Wait … what?

    Really?

    Tzeentch:
    “Oh definitely. You think I’m wrong?” She smiles (she doesn’t really). “I see what you did there. Are you writing over an old PRIMARCHS chapter?”

    I … <checks the file's name> …
    might be … why?

    Tzeentch:
    “You know what they say about writers who rest on their laurels and write using only older material?”

    They’re called Terry Goodkind?


    Tzeentch:
    “I was going for Alan Moore myself, but that’s by-the-by … restart using a more appropriate scene for our reintroduction, if you please? I think we've earned it. We're mentioned on TV Tropes after all ...”

    Oh wow … Internet celebrity status here I come. Next month I shall be enjoying lunch with Little Kuriboh, dinner with the Nostalgia Critic, and settle in for a night of retro gaming with James Rolfe …


    Tzeentch: “Sarcasm ill-befits you”


    I disagree. This entire concept this 99.9% obnoxious sarcasm against Black Library Publications.


    Kairos Fateweaver:
    “So … will I be needed in this scene? Do I have dialogue? Do I have a purpose here? Otherwise I've two beaks and both are in dire need of a drink”

    Tzeentch:
    “Oh don't be silly darling. Now be a dear, stop raping the question mark and go make me a cup of coffee” It’s not coffee, nor is it in a cup. You should know this by now. “Now you-”


    Me?


    Tzeentch: “Yes, you. Narrator. Lastie. Whatever. Start again and this time use something fresh and original”. She sighs. “And I do realise the irony of associating those two words with the 41st millennium … you may fade out now”


    Oh thank you.


    Let us leave this place of awkward descriptive narrative and enter somewhere more agreeable with the limits of the English language; the grand continent-spanning Imperial Palace of Holy Ancient and Awesome Terra. Much has changed since we were last here. The great banners that hung from the spires of a thousand towers have long since been taken down and replaced with fresh material declaring a new age of peace, happiness, prosperity, and affordable healthcare. The leering gargoyles that clung to the corners and stared down mockingly at the toiling billions below are no more; replaced by cutesy cherubs holding loudspeakers conveying the pre-recorded uplifting speeches from the Imperial Steward of the Great Throne – Malcador the Sigilite.


    Malcador:
    “Good morning citizens of Terra! I trust you are in as glorious a mood as I am on this wonderful sunny day. Give thanks to the environmental engineers for the low cloud cover and slowed orbital rotation giving us more sun for a longer day! A longer day, of course, means more work to achieve! Give thanks to the bankers who organise your pay checks, and work hard to earn them! Give thanks to the high-speed Warpband that has replaced the astropaths of old, giving us instant communication throughout the Imperium! Give thanks-“

    And so on. In total he lists four thousand and seventy-six different departments, from the impressive (the Space Marines! Building your houses for the glory of mankind!) to the mundane (need to teach your kids an important life lesson? Scare them straight with the help of the Eversor temple!). This continues throughout the day as countless (read: eight hundred and twelve) billions go about their daily duties as assigned to them by the government via crappy Saturday evening quiz show. This is the Grand New-Age Imperium; a place of mundane work and responsibilities. Nothing interesting ever happens outside office water cooler conversations regarding last night’s plot-twist on Lost: The Armageddon Years*. Lots of peace, plenty of respite and no war.


    And the reason for this change? The disappearance of the Primarchs many years ago. Due to a series of incredibly convoluted events that I won’t bore you here by relaying**, the Primarchs returned then disappeared into worlds unknown. Sent by a force greater in power than all of them combined (bad writing. No, seriously!). In their absence the forces of the Imperium were powerless to stop the rise of an unholy alliance; the combined magnificent bastardry of Malcador and Eldrad Ulthran, Farseer of Ulthwe and All-Round Grand Master Dick. Their powers of superdickery combined, Malcador and Eldrad conquered all in their path. The galaxy was at last united by a single cause; absolute peace, prosperity, and all-round happiness.


    The horror.


    Let us see the chief mastermind of this unthinkably horrible act as Malcador leaves his office to the sound of classical opera:

    Malcador:
    Swinging his master-crafted symbol of office around his head as he dances across the marble floor. Dozens of attendants swarm around him, brushing the dust from his clothes and straightening his cloak. “A glorious day is it not?”

    Palace Staff:
    Replying in unison. “Oh yes! Indeed it is!”

    Malcador:
    “And who do you have to thank for it?”

    Adeptus Custodes Guard:
    Opening the doors as Malcador walks through. “Why you, our lord!”

    Malcador:
    Standing before the Throne of Terra with a smug look on his face. “Indeed, and you know how I accomplished such things?”

    Palace Staff/Adeptus Custodes:
    “No! Please tell us!”

    Malcador:
    His smugness reaching new and epic levels.

    “I am the very model of an Adeptus of Antiquity,
    I’ve power over everyone, as far as the eye can see,
    From Space Marines arrogant, who claim they never flee,
    To Imperial Guard defiant, who bow at the very sight of me,
    I’ve conquered every part of this great open astral sea,
    To the Gates of Varl I’ve opened with bloody war-forged key,

    He dances around the throne room like Dick Van Dyke in
    Mary Poppins. It's all really quite embarrassing and I'll save you the narrative descriptions.

    And now this realm of hatred and wrath will cease,
    With my home-made brand of wholesome peace,

    He flings open the doors onto the balcony overlooking the great plaza below where millions are standing ready to cheer. It's all quite sickening.


    Crowds of Terra:
    “With his home-made brand of wholesome peace!”

    Malcador:
    Wrapped up in the moment and gunning for an academy award or two.

    “Now the very gods of war bow down before my feet!
    Upon my altar of glory they proclaim their absolute defeat!
    For I’ve power over everyone, as far as the eye can see,
    None contest I am the model of an Adeptus of Antiquity!”

    Crowds of Terra:
    “Let none contest he is the model of an Adeptus of Antiquity!”

    Malcador:
    “I am the model of an- …”

    THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND!:
    “OH FOR MY SAKE WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THIS SINGING!”

    Malcador spins round and with aghast sees twenty-two individuals of certain infamous characters standing before him. One of them stands forward, bedecked in glorious shining gold and sporting a sports cap with the words '
    WORLD'S GREATEST DAD' written in gold upon it.

    Malcador:
    “Wait! You! And you! And you! And … oh, sorry Mortarion I didn't recognise you … did you cut your hair? And you! And you! And … good gods have those things grown Hecate?!? Ahem … and you and-”

    Perturabo:
    “Yes, yes we get the picture. That disgusting song and dance number set the scene quite well; what have you done to the place?”

    Horus:
    “I agree” He looks momentarily shocked at that, before continuing. “This place is clean, well-lit and there's no skulls anywhere!!! What have you done?!?”

    Malcador:
    Drawing himself up and trying to look imposing. “I have brought … peace”

    A collective gasp arises from the assembled Primarchs (and one God Mode Plot Device On Legs).


    Mortarion:
    “You … you monster!!!

    Angron:
    “Think of the children!!!

    Leman Russ:
    “What children?!?”

    Vulkan:
    “Long story, Dorn can fill you in”

    Roboute Guilliman:
    “He definitely fill someone in! Am I right! Respect for the Robmeister!”

    Deafening silence greets that last statement.


    Roboute Guilliman:
    “Fine. The Robmeister will respect himself”

    Rogal Dorn:
    “Someone will have to I suppose”

    Konrad Curze:
    “No, no one has to. It's seriously not required”

    Sanguinius:
    “Well I for one welcome our new interior fashion designers, this place is fabulous!

    Lorgar:
    “Did he get more gay while we were away, or are we just suffering from some serious character derailment here?”

    Lion El'jonson:
    “We had characters?”

    Corax:
    “Of course we did. We were all the Official Emperor Fan Club and Support Group. Remember the good old days following dad around reminding him how awesome he was?”

    THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND!:
    “I remember. Good days them. What happened?”

    Horus:
    “My Heresy”

    Magnus the Red:
    “Then subsequent book series”

    A collective shudder echoes throughout the group.


    THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND!:
    “Everyone had a turn speaking? I've got a plot to initiate here!”

    Hecate:
    “No! I haven't said anything. Carl's keeping quiet. Alpharius and Omegon are standing at the back looking shifty. Khan's doing his … penetrable gaze thing he does … and Ferrus is still playing with the new wPhone”

    Ferrus Manus:
    “Hey everyone, look! If I turn it sideways my porn changes angle!”

    Hecate:
    “OK we're done. Did someone mention Plot?”

    Malcador:
    “Yes why are you all here?!? I did not spend millennia plotting your downfall and subsequent removing from this universe just for you to turn up back here again with little explanation! Please, tell me, why?!? Explain, damn you, explain!!!

    THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND!:
    “Calm down. Funny story actually. You see I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a girl who slept with a guy who did the back lawn for a girl who keeps the dental records for a guy who knows Alan Merrett. Got his lap top fixed and bang – here we are! Back in canon baby!”

    Magnus the Red:
    “Well technically 40K doesn't have 'canon' per se-”

    Horus:
    “Shut up Magnus”

    Malcador:
    “This isn't fair! This isn't fair! I should have won! I should have finally beaten you all! I should be ruler of my own kingdom!”

    Hecate:
    “Aww … there-there … poor Malcy. We've gone and spoilt his carefully-laid plans for galactic domination again. That's it, let it all out” She says as Malcador sobs like a kid in her arms (it bares reminding that Hecate, being a Primarch, is a big girl.

    THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND!:
    “Whatever. I've got a seat to sit imposingly within”. He sits himself down on the Imperial Throne and slouches magnificently. “Awesome. Right, the Big E's back in town. Spread the word. Spread the pain. Spread the war. Go forth my sons-” Hecate clears her throat. “-and single irritating daughter, and return WAR to this universe!”

    The Primarchs let loose a roar of satisfaction, pumping the air with their fists. Eventually the cries die down, leaving everyone looking around in confusion.


    Malcador:
    Pointing. “The space port's that way”

    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    ================================================== =======

    * Last night's plot twist: Ben is an Ork Warboss in disguise, Jacob is a C'tan hoping to manipulate the survivors of Mechanicus Flight 815 into doing his bidding, and John Locke is actually an Inquisitor Lord with a mission of his own. Tune in next week for the stunning conclusion!

    ** Warseer ate it anyway.
    Last edited by Lastie; 28-07-2010 at 16:24.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  2. #2
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    ================================================== ===
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== =========
    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER II


    It is generally agreed by Imperial scholars that the Blood Angels chapter of Space Marines and their successors all share two identifiable states of being: one being a calm and rational lover of the fine arts, good wine, enjoyable conversations and pleasant social evenings.

    The other is batshit-oh-my-god-they're-eating-her-and-then-they're-going-to-eat-me-oh-my-GOD!!!!-crazy.

    These two halves of the Blood Angels psyche has led most people to adopt a certain … cautious approach to dealing with them. With the latest vintage and two glasses in one hand, the latest copy of Times magazine in the other, while wearing the very best in running shoes.

    Sanguinius, naturally, has felt little need for the last addition to his attire. As he walks down the ramp of the Thunderhawk gunship, having just landed on Baal, a dozen servitor thralls walk behind him carrying several tonnes of clothes and alcohol.

    Sanguinius: Spreading his arms wide open. “Why hello all! I'm back you beautiful boys!”

    Dante: Waiting at the bottom of the ramp with Lemartes, Astorath, and Mephiston. “... who is he?”

    Lemartes: Leaning over and whispering in Dante's ear, which of course Sanguinius can hear perfectly. “Sanguinius, I think. I mean he's got wings. Must be Sanguinius”

    Dante: “Like that proves anything. Every bloody chaos army these days has some big dude with wings at the front … and they're all usually telling you what to do, to boot”

    Astorath: “Yeah, that's quite annoying. Anyway I agree with Dante; it can't be Sanguinius; doesn't look anything like our artwork”

    Sanguinius: Annoyed. “Firstly it hasn't been that long since I was last here, and secondly what artwork?”

    Dante: Pointing over his shoulder. “That”

    Sanguinius regards the giant painted wall that marks the side of the great fortress. To say the winged figure depicted was well built would be like saying the Pacific is a particularly large stretch of water, or Twilight is regrettably successful. A vast understatement. It also looks nothing like Sanguinius.

    Sanguinius: “That looks nothing like me! Look I am Sanguinius! I'll prove it; hand me some wine ...”

    Five minutes and one abysmal Culture Club karaoke session later …

    Dante: “OK he's Sanguinius. Anyone doubt this?” There is a collective shaking of the heads.

    Sanguinius: “Glad we've got that sorted out”. Something large and menacing flies overhead with a loud sonic boom. “What the hell was that? Was that a dreadnought hanging from it?”

    Dante: “What? The Stormraven gunships? Yeah, had them for a while”

    Sanguinius: “Where did you get them from?!?”

    Lemartes: “They came in the post one morning. Had a note attached to them from the AdMech; 'Found these down the side of the sofa. Thought you might like them'”

    Sanguinius: “Really? The AdMech are letting us use these things?”

    Astorath: “And the sweet thing is no one else has them”

    Dante: “Take that Ultradicks”

    Sanguinius: “So we've got the Stormraven, which is unique to us, and the Baal Predator, which is still unique to us?” The other marines nod. “And the AdMech … are letting us?” Dante nods. “The same AdMech that are ruthlessly zealous over every scrap of knowledge, the same AdMech that considers it heresy that anyone should so much as tighten a screw without their blessing, the same AdMech that supply every single weapon, piece of armour and tank in this chapter … and they're letting us use these things?!?

    Dante: “I know. It's really nice of them considering we send our genetic information to Mars every decade”

    Ominous music plays.

    Dante: “Oh damn … did I just mention a Plot Point?”

    Mephiston: “Personally I'm just going to hope that was another Lastie Rant TM about the idiosyncrasies of our millennium … but I might be possessed so what do I know?”

    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    Last edited by Lastie; 28-07-2010 at 16:24.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  3. #3

    Re: Primarchs

    He's still got it...

    Great to have you back, Mr Lastie

    Following on from what you said about avoiding spam, I just thought I'd add that if anyone does want to discuss PRIMARCHS, write reviews or request signed photos then there is a user group already set up for just this purpose. Head on over to "Lasties Brotherhood" - the =L= inquisition is always looking for new recruits

    PM CaptainSinon for an invite.
    Last edited by FarseerMatt; 04-07-2010 at 23:56.
    The story of craftworld Reia-Hal (recently updated, but please don't necro the thread)

    My =][= campaign logs:

    The Mar Sara Incident
    Phantom of the Fire

  4. #4
    Chapter Master
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    Re: Primarchs

    Hey, now I know I'm stuffing this up a bit by posting here now, but what if Lastie or a mod makes a discussion page, so that Primarchs can be posted seamlessly, and people can go OMG LOL in another thread, a bit like with the roleplaying forums?
    Quote Originally Posted by The pestilent 1 View Post
    Did Apple kill your parents and burn down your village or something?
    My Brute

  5. #5
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    ================================================== =========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== =========

    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER III


    As the morning sun rises over a panorama of violence, smoke columns, and the screams of the dying a squadron of Valkyries flies overhead to the tune of Richard Wagner as their occupants dive out the side, remembering to strap grav-chutes to their backs beforehand. On the ground below countless tanks make their slow and ponderous way across what used to be, as the muddied and crushed signs still declare, 'Eldrad Ulthran's Day Care Centre For Little Dicks'. Alongside the tanks march the proud soldiers of the Cadian 8th; the 'Emperor's Realistically Affordable Imperial Guard Option'.


    Standing proud on the lead chimera command apc is none other than Ursarkar Edwina Creed, looking proudly as his troops complete the surprise assault on an unarmed Eldar colony. His heterosexual life buddy Jarran Kell stands beside him bellowing out orders.

    Jarran Kell:
    MOVEYOUMAGGOTSLOOKALIVEWHATDOYOUTHINK <pause for breath> THISISDAYCAREDOYOUSEETHESIGNSTHEY'RELYINGTOYOUTHIS ISN'THOLIDAYCAMPTHISISWARNOW <pause for breath> MOVEITIFISEEYOUSLACKINGI'LLCOMEDOWNTHEREANDBOOTYOU WITHMYSIZENINETYFOURSHOESRIGHTUPYOUR <pause for breath> GODEMPERORFORSAKENASSES!!!


    Creed: “Looking good Kell. We've met minimum resistance. We can proudly announce our gloriously returned Emperor that ke can notch up another world on his galaxy-sized Monopoly board”

    Kell: EXCELLENTSIRTHISMAKESMEPROUDTOBEHUMAN!!!

    Creed: “Indeed” Notices the colour of Kell's face. “Breath Kell … that's it … deep breaths. Remember oxygen is good; oxygen is your friend. Don't desert it. Hello, what's this?” He lifts a pair of image-enhancers to his eyes and peers through them. “Resistance? Where did they come from?” His views swings from the assembling Eldar war host to a large archway. The sign hanging from it proclaims 'Vect's Budget Webway Gates' to the world. “Hmm … roll out the big guns lads. We have company”

    His second-in-command leans over the side of the Leman Russ he's riding in to shout over to Creed across the small gap between their vehicles.

    Knight Commander Pask: “What kind of 'big guns' do you have in mind sir?”

    Creed: “Depends. What have Forge World TM released recently?”

    Knight Commander Pask: “Sir they're doing Orks at the moment”

    Creed: “Damn their dirty xenos-loving hides, so what have we got with us-” Turns around to regard his forces, then stops dead. “Pask … what are those things?” He points at two large missile launchers moving alongside them.

    Knight Commander Pask: “Deathstrike missile launchers, sir”

    Creed: “Sorry, let me clearer, I know what they are, why are they here?

    Knight Commander Pask: Blinks in surprise. “New kit sir, just got them this morning in the post. Could have made some manticores, sir, but the men thought the deathstrike looked sexier”

    Creed: “Be that as it may, Pask, you do realise what the deathstrike missile is?” Upon receiving Pasks' blank stare, Creed continues. “It's an inter-continental ballistic missile, Pask. As in 'between continents'? Designed to kill stuff on the other side of the planet?” More blank stare. “Pask, how far away are the Eldar?”

    Knight Commander Pask: “About five hundred metres and closing, sir”

    Creed: “Indeed. Such a pity that the low-orbit trajectory of an in-flight deathstrike missile renders it's minimum range at about five hundred miles

    Knight Commander Pask: “... oh … maybe it can do a loop sir?”

    Creed: “A loop?”

    Knight Commander Pask: “Yeah, look around the planet and come back? Planets are round, right?”

    Creed: “... next time build a manticore, Pask. We can use Coke bottles for deahtstrikes if we feel the need ...”

    Eldar Autarch: From across the gulf between armies, his voice carried by foul xenos laud hailer technology. “What's the meaning of this betrayal?!? Has Malcador lost his mind?!? Eldrad will hear of this through your head presented to him on a plush velvet cushion … with an apology card!!”

    Creed: Calling back. “New management in town. Malcador's no longer calling the shots. We answer to the Big E now!”

    Eldar Autarch: “This is an outrage! This is … wait … where did that Reaver Titan come from?!? What do you mean 'behind that tree'. It's tiny; there's not enough to hide a titan!!! For a such a vehicle to appear from nowhere must be the work of some kind of tactical geni- … CREEED!!!

    Creed: Chuckling to himself. “It's good being me”

    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    Last edited by Lastie; 28-07-2010 at 16:25.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  6. #6

    Re: Primarchs

    Last 4 lines = genius
    my 40k tactic = CHARGE!

  7. #7
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    ================================================== =========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== =========

    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER IV

    Dante:
    “And here we have the current members of your Sanguinary Guard”

    Sanguinius stares at the ranks of gold-armoured individuals, all standing so stiffly to attention that they manage the impossible feat of invert moving (that is to say, not moving so much they actually go full circle and move quite freely in the opposite dimension(s) to normal movement. It has to be seen to be believed). In one hand he holds a glass of what was assured (repeatedly, by chaplains, who are excellent at insisting certain concepts are facts) to be the finest vintage in the chapter repositories, while the other has the latest chapter inventory (all fifteen different versions currently published by GW).


    Sanguinius:
    “My what?”

    Dante:
    Blinks in surprise. “Your Sanguinary Guard, my lord? Remember Azkaellon?”

    Sanguinius:
    “Who?”

    Mephiston:
    “Wait for the Horus Heresy treatment for our chapter, my lord. Your 'memories' will return then, I am sure”

    Sanguinius:
    “I can't wait to discover new and exciting details about myself! Perhaps I've made deals with secretive organisations of alien plotting the downfall of the Human race via convoluted plots involving simple yes/no possible futures and easily convinced genetically engineered super commanders to execute them. Perhaps I've actually got a twin! Perhaps I'm actually a loyalist all along and really want to be super-best-buddies with my daddy Emperor again! Perhaps-”

    Mephiston:
    “We get the idea. I did note much of that rant was against Alpharius' back story”

    Sanguinius:
    “That's because you stopped me before I could use my plot-convenient powers of foresight to reveal details about future BL publications (by the way, Wolves of the Moon will totally suck. Horus turns out to be Alpharius in disguise)”

    Mephiston:
    “Who isn't Alpharius in disguise?”

    Astorath:
    “You guys” Shifts a little before growing a few inches and gaining a smug expression, revealing himself to be … surprise-surprise, Alpharius in disguise. “Ouch … polymorphine's a bitch to control when you've still got a hangover”

    Sanguinius:
    “Speak of the devil – Alpharius you beautiful boy, how are you?”

    Alpharius:
    “Worried. Oh put that gun down Dante and tell your golden boys to holster theirs as well. I'm not here to spread trouble, just to deliver a message to my brother”.

    Sanguinius:
    “Oh dear. Plot?”

    Alpharius:
    “I'm afraid so. You hear dad's mobilised the war effort once again?”

    Sanguinius:
    “Yes, that's what we do. Kill everyone for little reason. This is not really the time to start developing a conscience. Some time before
    that last galaxy-threatening Plot Hole might have been handy. Before Vect appeared and reduced us to the level of baby-bag-wearing monsters would also have been handy. I mean, seriously-”

    Alpharius:
    “Relax. I'm not starting any pro-life human rights groups any time soon. I just want to pass on the message to look out for you-know-who in your travels around the galaxy blowing **** up”

    Sanguinius:
    “Who?”

    Alpharius:
    “You know … her

    Sanguinius:
    “... who?”

    Alpharius:
    Sighs. “Aeris/Aerith”

    Sanguinius:
    “... who?”

    Alpharius:
    “Just look out for the guys who put us in that half-a-year hiatus in the first place. The Blood Ravens chapter has dropped off the face of the galaxy. My sources can't find Eldrad Ulthran anywhere, and that flower bitch has disappeared too. If you see or hear any of them do tell me. We're on the same side remember?”

    Sanguinius:
    “You're loyalist?”

    Alpharius:
    “... apparently. Yeah I don't get it either, but I'm playing along. Magnus is in the club as well”

    Sanguinius:
    “So who's actually with Chaos?”

    Alpharius:
    “Probably just Lorgar. By himself. With his books” His image shift again. “Gotta go. Cameo appearances in other chapters to make. Long worn-out running gag to upkeep” He disappears.

    Dante:
    “I wonder where Astorath went, the real one I mean?”

    Sanguinius:
    “Probably never existed. I certainly don't remember him from before”

    Dante:
    Something occurs to him. “Be right back; going to warn Grimnar to keep an eye on the new characters”

    Sanguinius:
    “Ooh! Plot Point!”

    Mephiston:
    “Probably just a red herring in the guise of a throwaway snarky comment”

    Sanguinius:
    “Oh cheer up Mephiston. Here, have some cheap wine”

    TO BE CONTINUED ...
    Last edited by Lastie; 28-07-2010 at 16:21.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  8. #8
    Marine CaptainSinon's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    No one told me where to post the fan stuff so I thought id throw my sombrero into the ring here so to speak


    Ghazghkull: Cough cough who left all this darkness lying around?
    Paddy O'guiness: OH NO!!!! you mean the authors finally given to stereotypes and made you a dumbass????
    Ghazghkull: Apparently so... so where are we anyway?
    They are standing in the middle of an empty vastness, because i have no imagination i will probably call it a howling void
    Paddy O'guiness: Yeah we're sort of in a parallel universe, you see when primarchs was ripped apart by the forces that be it sort of messed up the entire continuum we were in at the time, hence all of our actions were meaningless, attributing nothing to anywhere, in short - for a short time we didnt exist - nor did most of the authors avatars.
    Ghazghkull: But their all back doing what they do!!! Including Bladewolfs apparently.
    Is that a snide comment about Bladewolfs constant ridiculously high output of written material? - yes, yes it is
    Paddy O'guiness: yeah but they all got part time jobs in other arcs and stuff we got put on hold! - apparently our author sucks!!
    an angelic figure in golden power armour appears
    Capt. Sinon: so yeah im back, oh BTW now im a literal author avatar - HELL YEAH!!!
    He wait no I hang on thats gonna be confusing
    Capt. Sinon dissappears in a puff of smoke
    So yeah real life caught up with me you two sorry bout that BUT i have a surprise for you
    Paddy O'guiness: ooooooooh so your gonna make it up to us?
    yup i got you two a present!!!
    Paddy O'guiness:Character development?
    better
    Paddy O'guiness:A pink cadillac?
    NO!! - although that may come in to a future arc
    Paddy O'guiness: fine what?
    At this point ghazghkull is bored and wanders off
    well im going to use only my characters from now on
    Paddy O'guiness gets beamed up by the new star trek transporters
    to be continued....
    Next time on FanArc:
    Paddy O'guiness: you mean!?!????! that koala has only 8 months to LIVE!!!!!
    Koala: dont rub it in mate
    Axe goes in guts come out - thats what supporting khorne is all about!

  9. #9
    Chapter Master Son of Sanguinius's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    To CaptainSinon and others who have fan fiction inspired by this:

    This is a thread for Lastie's work. Please don't post your fiction here, however funny it may be, without Lastie's direct permission. Without his okay, all this can be classified as is spam. The last thread got drowned in spam and it would be a damn shame to see that repeated. It is easy enough to start your own thread anyway.
    The Arena of Death, where I write the duel you imagine.

    The Coming Apocalyse, my blog for 40k and FB rules development.

  10. #10
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    Quote Originally Posted by Son of Sanguinius View Post
    This is a thread for Lastie's work. Please don't post your fiction here, however funny it may be, without Lastie's direct permission. Without his okay, all this can be classified as is spam. The last thread got drowned in spam and it would be a damn shame to see that repeated. It is easy enough to start your own thread anyway.
    True. Nothing much else I can add to that.

    ================================================== ==========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== ==========

    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER V

    Commander Dante of the Blood Angels is not a man who takes pride in his accomplishments easily (the general consensus being that pride leads to smugness, smugness leads to superiority, and superiority leads to painting your armour blue and calling yourselves by such brazen names like 'Ultramarines'). However, right this moment, he could not be more proud of his Primarch and genetic primogenitor if he tried (OK, perhaps if Sanguinius decided to get a haircut and look presentable then maybe, but still …) ...

    Sanguinius: “So blood fists are basic dreadnought close combat weapons, blood talons are essentially lightning claws, and liturgies of blood are the same quotes from the same book as liturgies of hate!”

    Dante: Clapping, oddly enough not in a sarcastic manner as is usually the case. His fingers take a while to get used this motion. “Indeed! Well done my Primarch!”

    Sanguinius: Still slightly confused. “So why all the names with 'blood' in the title?”

    Dante: “Why do Space Wolves have to re-name all of their equipment to include 'wolf' in the title?”

    Sanguinius: “Good point. Remind me to ask Wolf McWolfywolfenson next time I meet him”

    Mephiston: “I maintain he only exists as a far-too-subtle in-joke on the whole 'black and white space marine on a black and white bike', only with 'wolf' instead of 'bike'”

    Dante: “But thunder-plot-device-wolves aren't black and white”

    Mephiston: “Touché”

    Astorath: The real one, having been found elsewhere in the chapter keep dressed in his casual garb; an eye-raping Hawaiian* t-shirt and shorts that render him completely unrecognisable for anyone used to use usual attire of red power armour with the human musculature system carved into it. The flower rings in his hair didn't help matters much either. In fact it took so long for anyone to recognise him that Astorath spent several hours in the search operation before anyone informed him that he was the one everyone was looking for. “I sense negative waves emanating from this conversation. Let us renew our efforts to restore harmony ...” He closes his eyes and begins to hum.

    Mephiston: “I believe hippy man is trying to tell us not to get side-tracked away from the purpose of his conversation. We've already dedicated three chapters to this and I'm beginning to wonder why we're hogging so much script time. We can't have filler this early already ...”

    Dante: “Fear not! I believe the crash-course training has brought our Primarch up to date with the latest in Blood Angel equipment” He points to two huge aircraft parked at the opposite end of the hanger. “What are they?”

    Sanguinius: “Stormraven gunships. Our super-special landing craft that no one else has, until the Grey Knights get their own dirty little codex. The AdMech don't mind us having it despite our continuing efforts to give them the finger with regards to the Baal schematics. The boys in blue wish they have something this cool”

    Mephiston: Shrugs. “Fair enough, he's learning. And land raiders?”

    Sanguinius: “Have to be signed out of the armoury on a transportation contract. If nothing's going inside them, then the techmarines won't let any slip free of their grubby servo-arms”

    Mephiston: “Although I hear they're desperate for someone to take one of the godhammer-patterns out for a spin. Show it some love”

    Dante: “Don't be silly. Who uses anything but a Redeemer these days?” He pauses as a thrall quickly hands him a scroll, which he quickly proceeds to unroll and read. “Oh damn. We're being ordered out already”

    Sanguinius: “Surely that's good?”

    Dante: “Not really. Our glorious Protector Of His Drinks Cabinet has paired us with the Boys in Blue”

    Sanguinius: Groaning. “Oh gods … Roboute ...” He sighs.

    Dante: “Remind me why we didn't join Horus again?”

    Sanguinius: “We did try; but apparently we were 'too thematically similar to the World Eaters and didn't fill any necessary tropes concerning force composition that weren't already taken'. Angron keeps reminding me he got there first, but the jokes on him because we have a Codex and his boys don't!”

    Mephiston: “Even written by Matt Ward?”

    Sanguinius: Sulking. “... don't deny me my little pleasures in life ...”

    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    * While the island chain of Hawaii was burnt away thousands of years ago by industrious techno-warlords during the Age of Strife, their sense of fashion (or at least the tourists' idea of Hawaiian fashion) has survived. Like the clothing counterpart to cockroaches.
    Last edited by Lastie; 28-07-2010 at 16:20.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  11. #11
    Chapter Master Lorcryst's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    Still as good as I remember, and I'll try to be good and avoid spam ... this post has a purpose, tough : in the first chapter, there's a line of speech from The Emperor that is not coloured ... mistake, typo ? I thought I'd let you know.
    My log : Fantasy ** Updated 22/10/2014** a bit of news, and Master List updated with my latest purchases !
    Lorcryst's Sales Thread ** Updated 16/10/2014 ** list updated, sold items removed !

  12. #12
    Marine CaptainSinon's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    Well as suggested i made a fan page for the team so if you have a craving to say stuff go here:http://www.warseer.com/forums/showth...13#post4821313
    Axe goes in guts come out - thats what supporting khorne is all about!

  13. #13
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    ================================================== ==========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== ==========

    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER VI


    The Dark City of Commorragh; a hellish pit of foul abominations all striving to outdo each other in foul deeds like a twisted form of Britain's Got Talent, all to the joy and pleasure of Simon Cowell's almost identical twin brother … Asdrubael Vect (Cowell, at least it can be safely said, has some standards somewhere). From atop his great citadel of decadence Vect oversees the bustling Dark Eldar city as it prepares for a great event …

    Asdrubael Vect: Speaking into the microphone, held within the jaws of a still-living child stapled to the walls. “Careful now! Be very careful with the new equipment! The Codex isn't out yet and you're already threatening to break all our new toys! LEAVE THAT ALONE URIEN! Oh and would someone please kill Kruellagh? Her incessant crying is beginning to **** me off! NO ONE CARES IF SHE'S IN THE CODEX OR NOT!” He draws away from the child-phone and lets it drop to the floor with a muffled sob. “Kaela M Khaine, this is madness!”

    Eldrad Ulthran: “Not Sparta?”

    Asdrubael Vect is not a many easily startled, for that emotion requires one to assume certain laws are present in the world for the breaking of said laws to come as a surprise. Vect doesn't recognise any laws except his own; which is no one can tell him what to do. Ever. Vect is usually not a man to be taken by surprise, as he's probably been expecting it all along. This time, however, Vect is quite startled to hear Eldrad's voice in what was previously an empty room.

    Asdrubael Vect: “Where the nine-flavoured hells of the warp did you come from? Do you know everyone's looking for you? Malcador's ratted you out; you've got the entire military might of the Human Imperium turning this galaxy upside down looking for you under the pretence of some pitiful excuse to restore the validity of this game's tag line”

    Eldrad Ulthran: Sitting on Vect's chair and seeming quite relaxed with himself. “Let them look. They'll never find me. He who controls the canon controls the narrative, after all”

    Asdrubael Vect: Narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “What do you mean? Merrett's laptop?”

    Eldrad Ulthran: Hand waves it. “A pitiful plot device. Tracy thinks he brought both himself and his sons back through it but that was merely something I wished them to believe”

    Asdrubael Vect: You brought the Primarchs back? Why? After all that effort getting rid of them? After that monumental dick of a move that betrayed them to the four corners of established fiction? Who knows what horrors they endured? What strange worlds they had to survive in ...”

    Eldrad Ulthran: “Wasn't that bad. I know for a fact that Corax spent the entire time enjoying almost endless sex with a St. Louisian necromancer. Unfortunately he now has about five different forms of lycanthropy lying dormant in his blood … for the time being”

    Asdrubael Vect: “You didn't answer the question”

    Eldrad Ulthran: “Which one? There were so many” He grins upon seeing Vect's irritated expression. “Oh very well. The reason is quite simple; I need the Primarchs out of the way for a narrative moment or two. Just enough time to accomplish what I needed”

    Asdrubael Vect: “Which is?”

    Eldrad Ulthran: Opens his palms, revealing great dark holes in the direct centre of each. The holes are seemingly bottomless, leading into an infinite blackness beyond meagre fan-written description. “This”

    Asdrubael Vect: Recoils back in horror. “You … merged with the Plot Hole?!?”

    Eldrad Ulthran: “Of course … no longer am I a mere Eldar Farseer, forced to watch history unfold. Now I am the story! This world will follow my will! I write the narrative!”

    Dramatic silence.

    Asdrubael Vect: “What? With plot holes? Is this fresh from the Stephenie Meyer school of writing or something?”

    Eldrad Ulthran: “You may jest, but I will soon demonstrate my powers! Just think about which side you wish to belong to when the time comes … Vect ...” He reaches into his pocket, retrieves a small black object and presses the glowing rune upon it. After a moment a short 'BEEPY-BEEP' rings out and a webway portal appears beside him. “Catch you later” He disappears into the portal.

    Asdrubael Vect: Leans over and presses the intercom, which squirms under his touch. “Judith?”

    Intercom/Judith: Buzzing with hyperactivity. “Yes Mr. V?!?”

    Adrubael Vect: “Is the portal shielding still up?”

    Intercom/Judith: “Yes Mr. V; no one can get in or out through portals within a file mile radius of the citadel, just like you requested Mr. V”

    Asdrubael Vect: “I see … thank you Judith” He clicks the intercom off, which crawls off to hide in a corner. “Interesting ...”

    TO BE CONTINUED ...
    Last edited by Lastie; 28-07-2010 at 16:19.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  14. #14
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    ================================================== ==========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== ==========
    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER VII


    A thousand servitors sit in rows silently processing the vast amount of information that pumps through the many cables leading everywhere across the great cathedral of technology. In their hands, raised before them like begging servants, is held a thousand ergonomic keyboards (designed to minimise the effect of repetitive strain injuries on Astartes) and four-hundred button motion tracking peripherals. This is the Iron Hand’s sanctum of technology, their computerised Mecca, their holiest of holy, their LAN party.

    Ferrus Manus: Springing to his feet and throwing his arms into the air in delight. "BOOM! HEAD SHOT!

    A collective groan arises from the chapter as keyboards click away and voice chat relays the tactical inspirations of an entire collective of genetically engineered fragging machines.

    Ferrus Manus: Upon noticing the lack of enthusiasm for his four hundred metre lasgun sniping of another player (the 2nd grand company’s iron father, in case you were interested), Ferrus lowers his hands and decides to play that age-old Primarch trump card: bitch and wine like a little boy until things go your way. "Oh come on! That was epic! You gotta agree, right? Come on! How awesome was that? That was awesome, like … PRIMARCH AWESOME; who’s with me?!"

    Silence.

    Ferrus Manus: Sitting down and sulking. "Oh why do I bother? It was a mistake to come back anyway. No one appreciates us anymore; they’ve got too used to this ‘peace’ thing Malcador had going. My chapter’s boring now" He frowns when he notices his WarpChat is flashing that someone wants to talk to him. "Hello … when did I give Vect my ASWN* contact details?" Holding the microphone close to him, he whispers: "Hello?"

    Vect: "HEY FERRUS BABY! HOW’S IT HANGING?"

    Ferrus Manus: "****!" He leans over and turns off the PC speakers. "Hey Vect" He whispers. "What’s up?"

    Vect: "Got a major plot happening going on here; just had a visit by our old friend Eldrad"

    Ferrus Manus: Looks around to see if anyone was listening to him, but the Iron Hands know what’s important in life (gaming) and what isn’t (their egotistic Primarch). "You know the Big E’s turning this galaxy upside-down looking for that pointy-eared back-stabbing bastard?"

    Vect: "I know. Turns out, if said PEBSB is to believed, that’s all ‘just as planned’ anyway"

    Ferrus Manus: "What?"

    Vect: "Eldrad claims he brought you guys back from wherever it was you all disappeared off to when the Plot Hole won the last story arc. Of course I know better than to trust everything that Manipulative Bastard Incarnate says, but still …"

    Ferrus Manus: "You think there’s an element of truth?"

    Vect: "I want to know what Eldrad’s planning, and fast. He’s fused with the Plot Hole Ferrus …"

    Ferrus Manus: "WHAT?!?" Looks around quickly, but everyone’s still engrossed in their own gaming. "He’s done what?!?"

    Vect: "Don’t ask me how he’s managed it, but whatever he’s become now it’s bad news all over. So I’m thinking … it’s time to get pro-active. Not wait for the story to come to us first, so to speak"

    Ferrus Manus: "Time to re-form the Starfethers?"

    Vect: "That and find some of the old crowd; our past allies … you want to take a short trip to Rndum?"

    Ferrus Manus: "Why? What’s there?"Vect: "An little friend of ours: Pie May. He relocated there some time ago after the whole ‘Fish of Eternity’ thing was resolved and you guys got yourselves Alan Merrett’s laptop to play with"

    Ferrus Manus: Grinning. "Good times" The grin disappears. "Wait … Pie May? You really sure it’s a good idea to see him again? I remember the training montage he put us through … Rocky had it easy"

    Vect: "If anyone knows where we can find our old friends, it’ll be that diminutive exposition bank. So … meet you outside?"

    Ferrus Manus: "What? Are you on-world? How did you get past the orbital defence batteries?"

    Vect: "Come on Ferrus, we’re Eldar! There’s always a way past anything you Humans could throw at us! In this case we installed a covert webway portal in your sewer system years ago in case we ever needed it. Anyway, I’m waiting outside"

    Five minutes later … outside said building.

    Ferrus Manus: "I’m a little disappointed that no one’s killed you on spot. You really aren’t making any effort to be inconspicuous, you know?"

    Vect: "No need. Anytime one of your guys makes a show about me being … you know … xenos and all that Lelith here just waggles her pretty little – I’m sorry generously gifted – bosom and they immediately forget anything purge-related and rush back in to relive some built-up Astartes tension with their porn folder, me thinks"

    Lelith: "And just for the record, I hate being objectified"

    Vect: "My apologies darling, I know you prefer to make decorative objects out of anyone objectifying you. I’ve seen your trophy rack back home" Looks at Ferrus. "You’ll never see so many severed penises outside a medical conference on genital health"

    Ferrus Manus: "Charming … reminds me of my ex-wife … so … onwards then?"

    Vect: "Indeed! To Rndum!"

    Ferrus Manus: "That’s a crap name for a planet, by the way"

    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    *AlphariusSoft Warp Network, just so you know.
    Last edited by Lastie; 28-07-2010 at 16:17.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  15. #15
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    Finally decided on a name for the currrent story arc. I'll get round to adding it retroactively.

    ================================================== ==========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== ==========
    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER VIII

    "Fear the unknown, for it has no characteristics for you to kill it with"
    -Common Imperial saying

    Tzeentch: "Ah … the quote at the beginning of each chapter has returned!"

    Pipe down. Some of us are trying to narrate a story here.

    Anyway, let us draw our attention away from the giant cyber-café that is Medusa and focus on another scene in the great galactic space opera that is Warhammer 40,000. Let us discover what another Primarch has encountered upon his return to his Legion after an extended leave of absence. On the Planet of the Sorcerers (actual name changes each week according to a complex lottery that involves no less than four different laws of probability and a high amount of cheating) Magnus the Red has returned to find matters not how he left it …

    Magnus the Red: "How … how did this happen?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Now don’t get angry with her. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t my fault either. In fact I’d say it wasn’t anyone’s fault, just an unfortunate act of completely random and arbitrary nature. One of those things; no one could have seen it coming. My condolences".

    Tzeentch: "I completely agree. Unfortunate, but completely-random-events-that-was-no-one’s-fault happen all the time, and … unfortunately … had to happen to Betty"

    Falal: "Indeed, poor Betty. We mourn her loss"

    Magnus the Red: Holds up the remains of what was once his favourite twenty-sided die. "Betty … you always rolled natural twenties for me … regardless of character or gaming system" He clenches his fist around the smashed die. "I will find who did this and I will end him! No amount of magical or physical resistances will protect him! My Killing Blow ignores all unit types! I am Lord of the Mega-Death and Master of X-Zone!"

    Tzeentch: "Yes dear, we get it. You have many references to various RPG systems both pen and paper based or more electronic in nature. However … may I play devil’s advocate here and point out that it was just a die?"

    There’s a sudden silence amongst the collected sorcerers as all eyes turn to the giant to see what would happen next.

    Magnus the Red: Looks at the remains of Betty. "Very true" He throws the remains away and brushes the plastic dust off his hands. "So … anything else changed? Have you done your hair Falal?"

    Falal: "No, I’m just occupying different dimensions in relative space than usual"

    Magnus the Red: "Oh … looks good. Makes you shine. Did I say you look pretty?"

    Falal: "Magnus don’t take this the wrong way, but are you feeling well? You look genuinely happy to be back here. That’s not the Magnus we all knew and loved"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Agreed. I’d hate to be brutally honest … although I didn’t get to wander around the galaxy with nothing but a beaten copy of The Guide and an irate spell familiar called You Wasted A Good Plot by being dishonest in my opinions … but my lord, you’ve never been happy here. Every day you woke up and bitched to the general universe about how unfair everything was that you were here and Russ was getting laid and how your chapter got less units in every incarnation of the Chaos Space Marine codex while Russ got marines on wolves and terminators in drop pods with assault cannons and cyclone missile launchers …"

    Falal: "Oh that’s all illegal now. Has been since second edition, where have you been?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Stuck in second edition. Call me old fashioned but I like playing a completely pointless card game in the middle of my toy soldier battle. The point though remains … you’re happy now. Why?"

    Magnus the Red: "I met a wonderful group of people in my travels who showed me the true meaning of magic. I understand everything now, how it all works together. How it operates, how it … what are all these signs for?" He gestures around at the various banners hanging from the ceiling.

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "You just noticed them? I realise the narrator didn’t describe the scene at the opening of the chapter but that’s no excuse for such poor Spot checks"

    Magnus the Red: "’Psyker-fest 012.M42?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Er … yes. Well … while you were away learning the ‘true meaning of magic’ we were establishing ties with others of our … psychic disposition. We made good relations with other psychic races. Psyker-fest is our yearly meet-up, which we alternate between here and Ulthwe"

    Magnus the Red: "Ulthwe? Is Eldrad involved with this?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Oh good Chaos no. No one’s seen that grox-bag since you left. No our Eldar connections have all been managed by Taldeer in Eldrad’s absence"

    Magnus the Red: "Taldeer Elphchik Phan’cervis?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Any other Taldeer we know?"

    Tzeentch: "Not until the inevitable clone saga begins …"

    Magnus the Red: "And look where that got Marvel … so when does this psyker-fest kick off?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Tomorrow all the guests will be arriving, and the fest itself will kick off proper the next day …" He narrows his eyes. "Why? What evil scheme is going through your mind right now?"

    Magnus the Red: Reaches into a pouch hanging from his waist and hands Ahriman a scroll. "That was given to me by Horus before I left Terra"

    Falal: Reading the scroll over Ahriman’s shoulder. "Nice … is that blood?"

    Magnus the Red: "Yes. Not Horus’ – Ezekyle’s. Horus wasn’t too happy discovering that the Black Legion had been reduced to intergalactic cookie sellers in his absence"

    Falal: "Oh that’s a shame, I liked Ezekyle"

    Tzeentch: "Not as much as he liked his blood, I’d wager. Horus likes to write, doesn’t he? Did he make nine copies of this for all of you? I doubt there’s enough pints of blood in one human body for one of these, let alone nine!"

    Magnus the Red: "Well … no. Luckily Loken was at hand to lend some extra blood for the copies"

    Tzeentch: "Ah, that explains it. So Tracy wants Eldrad, does he?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Not for tea and biscuits, it seems. From what I gather between all the various descriptive texts of imaginative bodily mutilation that Horus seems to want to deliver upon everyone’s favourite farseer the Big E isn’t a happy pterra squirrel"

    Magnus the Red: "On a scale of one to ten, where one is finding out I broke his illegally modified webway portal and ten is discovering a scratch on his favourite suit of powered armour?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Oh definitely a nine-point-five on the Tracyometer. I wouldn’t like to be Eldrad right now. Unless I had some kind of galaxy-destroying mega-power at my beck and call to ward him off there’s nothing stopping Eldrad meeting an untimely and messy ‘rejection’ sometime soon. I hear the Big E’s already got his favourite Chapters out looking for the dick"

    Magnus the Red: "Indeed. Horus insists that our search for Eldrad is an entirely separate entity to His search for the same guy, which is already making more mess than we need. Hear about the Dark Angels and the Death Guard clashing on Emoka?" Ahriman shakes his head. "Both forces arrived at the same Daemon-infested heckhole looking for Eldrad, got into a minor dispute over the quality of the latest Bullet for My Valentine album which quickly escalated into a full-scale war between the two. Hear the Daemons sold lots of tickets for the stadiums they had built around the fighting. Made a mint, do you think we can do something similar for the next time our side and theirs inevitably mess this whole thing up over some stupid disagreement one of us had ten thousand years ago last weekend?"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Hasn’t stopped any of you so far. What happened?"

    Magnus the Red: "Hmm? Oh the fighting … well they both agreed to call it a stalemate after their prize champions decided to end the fighting once and for all with a personal one-on-one showdown in the middle of the battlefield. Simultaneous wrist-slitting is not the best way to settle a challenge, as it turned out. Although it’s quite impressive how much extra bodily fluids a plague marine can ooze out of his major arteries compared to a normal marine …"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "Oh thanks for that image; I was planning on having lunch later … what’s so amusing T?"

    Tzeentch: Giggling to herself. "Oh sorry. Just got a message from one of my … spies, for want of a more elegant description. The Blood Angels have been despatched and it looks like Tracy has a sense of humour – they’ve been paired with the Ultramarines to scour the Ultima Segmentum"

    Ahriman the Former Exile: "The entire segmentum? That’s a lot of space to cover for two chapters, even two of the biggest Mary Sue gatherings going will have a hard time exploring all that … ground … bad terminology, I know"

    Tzeentch: "Sorry, when I say Ultramarines I mean all of them. Marneus Insuferus Calgar has called all Ultramarine successor chapters back to Macragge to aid their progenitors in hunting for Eldrad"

    Magnus the Red: "Several hundred thousand Ultramarines and one chapter of Blood Angels? I would feel sorry for Sanguinius if I didn’t hate his perfect guts" He gestures at the scroll Ahriman still holds. "We’ll ignore that for now. I’ve got an idea … and it’s going to need some help. Insufferable Eldar help"

    TO BE CONTINUED ...
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  16. #16
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    This one took a while ...

    ================================================== ==========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== ==========
    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER IX

    “In response to your request into ascertaining the possibilities of air-dropping our land raiders onto the battlefield via thunderhawk transporters I have this to say: providing you do not give a grox's ass about your suspension, MOT, or AdMech insurance, then sure … go ahead”
    -Blood Angels Techmarine


    The image is standard Imperial quality; grainy, prone to flickering, and with sound that makes even the most masculine of space marines* sound like a eight-year-old with a cold. Under normal circumstances this would be a mild inconvenience. Today the poorly maintained technologies of a galactic empire that still thinks skulls are classic retro gothic decorations only help make matters more bearable for Sanguinius. Anyone can suffer the ego that is Roboute Guilliman if he sounds like a pre-pubescent schoolgirl.


    Roboute Guilliman:
    “Man! It's good to see you bro! This is gonna be like old times; you, me, hanging out kicking ass!”


    Sanguinius: Trying his best to maintain a polite expression despite the sarcasm trying to burst through into his voice. “Erm … yes. Indeed … just like old times. Except with more angst and my legion's about a tenth of the size … thanks for that, by the way”


    Roboute Guilliman: “What, the Codex? Hey no problem! I know how to feels when you're trying to manage more than you can handle. It's a pity your boys aren't like my boys, but I guess we can't all be perfect can we?”


    Sanguinius: Fights off the urge to kick into a sarcastic overdrive that would quite likely sail completely over Roboute's head and only end with the thirteenth Primarch taking him seriously. No one liked Roboute taking them seriously as he tended to listen to exactly what they said then spend several moments analytically tearing it apart word by word and reconstructing the sentences to his liking. 'Rob, could you go get me some coffee' would usually be resolved five months later with the occupation of a random agri world by Ultramarine troops carrying the strict orders to replace all crops with coffee plants and strong-arm all available traders (rogue or otherwise) to ship the harvest directly to your front door on the backs of child servitors. It usually paid to keep Roboute firmly in his own imaginary world. “No … I guess not”


    Leaning close Dante subtly presses a warm cup of Mad Cap Caffeine into Sanguinius' hands. Taking a sip of the noxious brew (topped with warm cream!) Sanguinius feels his mind slipping into a dull blur as Roboute continued to monologue:


    Roboute Guilliman: “With my brains, good looks, superior tactical know-how, popularity, and all-round AWESOME and WIN and your … effeminate appeal to bait the oestrogen … whatever that is … we will be UNSTOPPABLE! No one can stand in the way of the Sons of Guilliman when they put their minds to one goal! Not even the Sons of Guilliman! Think what we can accomplish with your chapter there to cheer us on!”


    Sanguinius: “The shopping”


    Roboute Guilliman: “That's only the beginning! Think of the adventure! The glory! The real estate value!”


    Sanguinius: Almost chokes on the hallucinogenic coffee. “Wait, what?”


    Roboute Guilliman: “I've been thinking lately-”


    Mephiston: Standing slightly behind his Primarch, could not resist muttering under his breath. “Oh dear ...”


    Roboute Guilliman: “-why does a man like Alpharius get the entire Tau Empire to himself when I, the glorious Roboute James Tiberius Martystu Guilliman, have the meagre region of Ultramar to answer to me?”


    Sanguinius: “But … brother … by your own Codex our Space Marines aren't supposed to own territories. Remember the Heresy? Remember how much manpower answered our beck and call? Remember when you said that was bad?”


    Mephiston: Whispering to Sanguinius. “Weren't you dead during all of this?”


    Sanguinius: Whispering back. “Minor issue”


    Roboute Guilliman: “I'm thinking of changing that. In reflection that was a poor choice by myself. To realise that limiting the number of territories to a mere sector for myself was not the best of ideas. From henceforth I shall address this and change paragraph twenty-three, sentence four, to '[…] and therefore, due to his great and mighty intellect and stunning prowess in the bedroom, Roboute Guilliman and his fine sons and successor chapters shall inherit as much as they desire from the dominion of man'. What do you think?”


    Sanguinius: “Dad's going to flip his lid”


    Roboute Guilliman: “Unlikely, this is me we're talking about San. He might have thought you were gay, but he certainly thought I was a son to be proud of”.


    Mephiston: “That's so wrong ...”


    Sanguinius: Ignoring his chief librarian. “Are we talking about a galactic crusade here, Rob? I thought we were just looking for the Blood Ravens? Round them up and make them answerable for their crimes?”


    Roboute Guilliman: “Oh we'll do that as well, but the important matter is getting me more play space for the boys and the girls”


    Sanguinius: “Girls?”


    Roboute Guilliman: “Oh, didn't she tell you? Such is the legend of my boys that the venerated Lady Helena, Prioress of the Convent Sanctorum, and the Orders of the Bloody Rose and Our Martyred Lady will be joining us on our little crusade here in the Eastern Fringes”


    Mephiston: Shudders involuntarily. “Oh dear God-Emperor … not her”


    Sanguinius: “Do you know this women then, Calistarius?”


    Mephiston: “The dear Lady Helena has been speculated to be the avatar of the little-known Chaos god of librarians, such is her attitude to life and its abundance of situations that can be likened to metaphors regarding overdue books. She is insufferable, intolerable, always thinks she's right, never listens to what anyone ever says-”


    Helena: “And is listening to every word you have said, Calistarius. How nice that you are still as observant as ever, otherwise you might have noticed that Lord Guilliman kindly established a channel for me moments after my introduction”


    Mephiston: Gritting his teeth. “No, sorry. I failed to notice the descriptive narrative. How are you, Lady Helena?”


    Helena: Her image crackling and distorting as she speaks. “Terrible. My hip has gone, my arthritis is acting up thanks to the damn recycled air in these ships, I've lost my favourite reading glasses and now having to make do with these terrible old spares I had that make all the swirly writing on these damn scrolls almost illegible, I've lost that wonderful pen Sister Chastity made, and I'm surrounded by morons”. One of the nearby techmarines casually saunters over to the holographic projector, says a quick prayer, then slaps it hard. The flickering stops.


    Sanguinius: Beaming. “Madam, I do believe I like you. How about you come over to my ship and I treat you to a legendary Blood Angel four-course meal? Did you know our culinary skills are admired across the galaxy?”


    Helena: “I hear you cook your human thralls”


    Sanguinius: “That would be the Flesh Tearers, and I assure you last time I talked with him Seth was stamping out that sort of behaviour. It was becoming somewhat costly to keep replacing their servants after each chapter feast day”.


    Helena: Eyes Sanguinius suspiciously, in a manner only someone over the age of seventy can truly master. “Very well. These egocentric ****** were driving me insane anyway”.


    Roboute Guilliman: “Excuse me?!?”


    Sanguinius: “Well I believe that about wraps it up for our introductions. Rob; the Angels Encarmine, Angels Sanguine, and the Angels Vermillion will be arriving soon to join us. I hope you don't mind but I didn't want this whole operation becoming a total Ultramarine-fest. I'd like to have some competent soldiers under my command. Oh do excuse me, this seems to be the coffee speaking now. Good-bye, Rob!” He cuts off the Primarch before Roboute had a chance to respond. “I will be seeing you later, my lady” Sanguinius gives Helena a short bow, before her transmission ends. “Well … that was interesting”.


    Dante: “Why did you invite Helena over? She's everyone's grandma rolled into one”.


    Sanguinius: “Speaking of someone who never experienced the joys of a grandmother I realise I might be somewhat biased when I say 'excellent!' I look forward to having the woman aboard, if only for some female company. There's far too much testosterone around here ...”


    Mephiston:
    Frowns. “I thought you were gay?”


    Sanguinius: Laughing. “And deny myself one half of the galaxy in the process? My dear Calistarius, why would I do such a thing? Besides, someone's got the up the promiscuity around here otherwise the only person ever enjoying any action would be Vect, and that's a horrifying thought”. He shudders.


    Mephiston: “Well … please not both Orders. Can we limit ourselves to just one?”


    Sanguinius: Enjoys the long pause before asking - “Which one would you like?”


    Mephiston:
    “I know a couple of girls from OML that I met a couple of years back during a 'nid invasion ...”


    Dante: “I'm guessing you impressed them with your Carnifex-dividing skills?”


    Mephiston: Grins for the first time in months. “The ladies do enjoy a bouquet of flowers. Especially flowers made of trygons”.


    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    * Space Marines. Masculine. I realise the oxymoron here.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  17. #17
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    Sorry for the wait.

    ================================================== ==========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== ==========
    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER X

    “Best kind of pizza service? Daemonic pizza. I'm serious; most take-away pizza services give you the usual 'deliver in thirty minutes or it's yours free' crap but only if your establishment is in the Warp can you offer your pizza free of charge if it isn't delivered to the customer before they ordered it”
     Unknown Adept, presumed executed for heresy

    I would very much like to describe what Ahriman did moments before uttering his first line of dialogue in this chapter as opening the door to the expansive main library of the Tower of Magnus to allow Taldeer and her entourage of warlocks entry into what was quickly becoming a successful meeting of the minds*. However I would be lying through my teeth (or fingers, as the case may be). Ahriman did not 'open' a door as create one where a door was not moments before and then altered it into an opening where a door had been. The process was longer than necessary, largely due to a Level 4 psyker's natural tendency to show off when performing any feat of mental dexterity. As the opening solidied and pretended to look as if it had been there all along, Ahriman threw a smile upon his face and pretended to seem happy to see her.

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “Taldeer! How wonderful to see you! How exactly have you been since you last graced the main narrative?”

    Taldeer: Having spent a few decades on the Path of the Socialite several centuries ago she is far more convincing in her fake joy than Ahriman. “Oh, not too much. You understand how it is; everything in flux, nothing quite firmly established … you basically just find yourself waiting around for that moment when some higher narrative power than ourselves takes a breath and says 'oh, and for those who were interested Taldeer is currently washing her socks'”

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “How exciting … do you still wear socks, just out of interest?”

    Taldeer: “We might do. Why?”

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “I could do with a pair that don't chafe my feet. Exile does tend to take its toll on the footwear after a couple of millennia … anyway where's my manners? Do come in? Brought drinks? Yes? Then definitely come in, all of you!” As they walk through he turns to the party and exclaims: “We have warlocks! Enhance for everyone!”

    A great cry rises up as the crowd celebrate the little-known benefit of that particular warlock power when mixed with alcohol.

    Taldeer: “I hear old one-eye has an ulterior motive for this event besides the usual chance for him to stroke his galaxy-sized ego**”

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “He does, and before you asked he hasn't told me so whatever he's going to announce will probably be a surprise to me as well. Brace yourself; he wants our attention”

    Indeed Magus was currently tapping politely on a small wine glass while he waited for everyone to stop talking and let him speak.

    Magnus the Red: “Ladies, gentlemen, and daemonic creatures of an ambiguous disposition, thank you all for attending this humble get-together that my chief librarian, Ahriman, newly re-instated back into his old position just recently due to good behaviour and successfully answering the question I tasked his exile with, has apparently been organising for years. For those of you who have attended this event for more than one successive year may I thank you for aiding the spirit of psychically-gifted Human and Eldar mutual co-operation and ego-stroking. May we continue to rise above our less-gifted peers and forever **** over those blasted Pariahs and their irritating ability to make the best of us soil our pants like we once did in junior school after the team sports captain hung us by our undergarments from the coat pegs of the changing rooms … an event that I thankfully never had to suffer, on account of the average coat peg height being slightly less than my knees at the time. May I personally say that I have not seen such a fine collection of minds and psychic abilities since last year’s Scanners Convention a couple of universes away, an event I attended during my travels. Hopefully we will suffer less head explosions than they did, although one delightful young women I met there did show me how to explode a man in slow-motion, so please don’t try my patience today … but I digress; I hope you will forgive an old warlord the opportunity to somewhat hijack a meeting of exceptionally powerful beings for his own nefarious means, but this is what I intend to do. As some of you may be aware my brothers and I (and my delightful sister and father) have recently returned from a forced journey into the Greater Fictional Multiverse at the behest of the entity we mere fictional characters know only as the Plot Hole. This event was only brought to being thanks to the actions of a former farseer of your craftworld, Taldeer, by the name of Eldrad Dyk Ulthran. Suffice to say my dearest father has taken this rather personally, and I understand a certain degree of war dogs have been let slipped into the galaxy”

    Macha: Already in the process of getting quite drunk, in the hope that maybe this time she might finally wake up the morning after a social event to find someone else in her bed. She’s already decided she won’t be too picky this year, and is already wondering how extensive the Changling’s abilities can be in certain situations. “A small understatement Magnus! The Imperial Guard have marched through legitimate Eldar territory established after the C’tanic Heresy***! Children have died, puppies have been kicked! We demand a response from Terra! This behaviour will not be tolerated! Biel-Tan has a long history of kicking ass when needs be, not like our more … stuffy cousins from other craftworlds” Throws Taldeer a dirty look, who responds in kind. “And we will not sit by and allow such action to continue! We will … do stuff! Which might not be pleasant!”

    Magnus the Red: “Duly noted, and yes I am aware of the atrocities committed on the reclaimed Maiden Worlds. I have a subscription to the Warp News Netowork’s daily warpmail bulletins, amongst others … ahem … with these unfolding events in mind I have decided to take action against my father’s wishes. For too long I have stood by and witnessed him bully everyone around him into submission and I will be the first to admit I allowed myself to be cowed too easily all those years ago …”

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “Oh not bloody Nikaea again … my lord, could you get over it already?”

    Magnus the Red: “I am over it, Ahriman; my therapist claims it is so. My point, however, remains: I intend to fight this injustice and restore the galaxy to the peace I see it has enjoyed while my brothers (and sister) and I were … away”

    Taldeer: “So … you're going to fight against the Imperium?”

    Magnus the Red: “Despite what Graham McNeil would have you believe I am a Chaos Primarch, and last I checked the Long War hadn't been cancelled due to lack of interest. I for one am tired of my egotistical father believing he can get his way if he simply smashes aside any objections! Hundreds of worlds have already been subject to off-screen genocide simply for preferring democratic election protocols rather than the Adeptus-preferred method of 'worship, pay your tithes, and shut the hell up'. If they greet an invading force of Guard with contempt then they must be hiding Blood Ravens or possibly Eldrad himself – nuke from orbit, it's the only way to be sure! That, my friends, is the Imperium in a nutshell. I'm sick of it. Malcador may have been an ass, but he brought us peace. Who wishes to see it returned?”

    There's a general nodding of heads as a crowd who, collectively, is far too intellectual for cliché cheering after a good speech makes display their approval.

    Njal Stormcaller: Throwing away the heavy robes that made him totally inconspicuous in a room full of people wearing light smart-casual clothes as one does in a social gathering where there might be attractive members of the opposite sex that one might wish to indulge themselves an intellectual conversation with (and by that I totally mean sex). “Never did I expect to hear such words from the Primarch of the Thousand Sons, of all people. Yet you speak words of wisdom, Magnus”

    Silence.

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “OK, who let the dog in?”

    Magnus the Red: “Now, now. Lets hear what Nya … Nia … Nijj … Nigel has to say”

    Njal Stormcaller: “It’s ‘Njal’. I have come under the requests of our rune priests, who in a drug-fuelled trance last Tuesday saw that my presence here would decide a great fate of the universe. I see now what they mean; my lord Russ has also grown tired of the Emperor’s behaviour. He has lived a long life of war and death, and wishes to alter this to an equally long life of drink and women. Unfortunately this doesn’t meet the Adeptus Terra’s approval, who would rather see us butcher Eldar children. I don’t wish to see my chapter on the Moral Event Horizon page of TV Tropes; it’s bad characterisation, especially after all the crap we went through after the first war of Armageddon. We’re the good guys-“ Every Thousand Son in the room coughs ‘********’ into their fists. “-I mean anti-heroic guys. We’d like to stay that way, and the Emperor’s increasingly questionable actions is making that … tricky to say the least”

    Leman Russ: Throwing off his own robe. “What Nigel’s trying to say with too many bloody words, lad, is that on this occasion we see eye-to-eye … er … no offence. We’ll join you in this crusade!”

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “Wait, how did they get in here without anyone noticing? They had face-concealing cloaks for the god’s sake! Didn’t that strike anyone as a little bit suspicious?”

    Lorgar: Throwing off his cloak. “And I too will join you, brother. I will fight no more. I do not wish to see my children**** grow up in a universe choked by the shadow of our father. I fight this oppression … which makes my earlier claim of fighting no more a little redundant, I understand … but my point remains …”

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “Anyone else here want to remove their cloaks and make an impassioned speech about fighting the Imperium (which I thought is what most of us here had been doing these past ten thousand years anyway!)?”

    Silence.

    Ahriman, Former Exile of the Thousand Sons: “Good. Gods-damned narrative-convenience-plot-device-crap-clothing …”

    Njal Stormcaller: “You’re just jealous because you don’t have one”


    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    *And when dealing with psychic individuals, minds did, quite often, actually meet. The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Psychic Pick-up Artists goes into more detail, but sufficed to say it's not mind rape if you think 'surprise' first.

    **Surprisingly this is actually a compliment. By comparing Magnus' ego to a mere galaxy Taldeer was actually commenting on how well-grounded the Primarch usually is when compared to his brothers, whose egos are usually equivalent to much larger celestial phenomena than mere galaxies.

    ***The first PRIMARCHS plot arc. TL;DR version is thus: C’tan wanted to sell Games Workshop to a Japanese company, the Primarchs used the power of a time-travelling fish to stop them. Yes, I do realise that makes no sense as I typed it. That was the short version.

    ****Yeah he has kids. Long story.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  18. #18
    Chapter Master Son of Sanguinius's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    Nice work, Lastie. Magnus likes to hear himself talk.

    You confused me with Lorgar's line "I will fight no more". What did you mean?
    The Arena of Death, where I write the duel you imagine.

    The Coming Apocalyse, my blog for 40k and FB rules development.

  19. #19
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    Quote Originally Posted by Son of Sanguinius View Post
    You confused me with Lorgar's line "I will fight no more". What did you mean?
    No idea. Lorgar's one of those characters who writes himself half the time. The other half is me looking back on what I wrote asking myself 'what the hell did I mean when I wrote that?'


    ================================================== ==========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== ==========
    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER XI

    “The guys don’t believe me when I tell them I’m dating a Callidus. They seem to think I’m making up a lousy excuse for why I keep waking up next to different women after a night out. If that were true why would I need an excuse?” – Unknown

    Vulkan: “OK listen up boys, girls, those of ambiguous gender identity…”


    Corax: “Why do you look at me when you say that?”


    Vulkan: “Why indeed? Despite my brother here and his questionable choice in hair styles that have left him more gender-confused than a blind daemonette we are here at the bequest of our gloriously opinionated Emperor and his monolithic ego to help bail a couple of his best troops out of a situation that they appear to have walked right into. Lion, if you’d please?”


    Vulkan stands back to allow Lion El’jonson room to approach the giant holographic projector set up in the centre of the conference room. Around him hundreds of ascending rows of Astartes sit watching the three Primarchs in well-disciplined silence. After the reaction Corax received when the Raven Guard Primarch first appeared no one has dared laugh, giggle, or indeed make any sound since lest they incur the wrath of the depressed Primarch and his new emo-style haircut.


    Lion El’jonson: “At least four days ago, give or take (we’re still a little iffy about how long it took to get here. Our Astropaths are trying to correlate our date with the system date but considering everyone seems to be dead that’s proving tricky), our main incursion force into this sector, led by none other than the fame Ursarker Creed, were defeated by a cowardly Eldar ambush”


    A hand rises from the audience.


    Lion El’jonson: “Yes Azrael?”


    Azrael: “Sorry to interrupt my lord Primarch, but it says here in the report files you gave us all that the Eldar ‘came running forwards screaming loudly at the top of their lungs in the thousands directly towards the Imperial guns’. How’s that an ambush?”


    Lion El’jonson:Is silent for a while, before he leans over and whispers to Vulkan. “Who compiled the report?”


    Vulkan: “Brother Ward, sir”


    Lion El’jonson: “Ask him kindly not to do it again, would you?”


    Vulkan: “Noted”


    Lion El’jonson:
    Standing up straight and smiling politely at Azrael. “Yes … well … it appears our initial reports, which you hold in your hand, were incorrect. I can assure you that no Eldar worth his spirit stone would be caught running towards any kind of gun-line. We can only deduce from this that the foul xenos used their typical trickery to lure our fine commanders to their doom. Nothing else would make sense”


    Azrael: “So this section describing Creed ordering his men to turn their backs to the Eldar, pull down their standard-issue combat trousers and bare their…”


    Lion El’jonson: “Slanderous lies. All of it. Ignore the report files gentlemen and listen to me, for I am the bearer of the truth in this regard – stop laughing Corax before I cut that ridiculous mop of hair off”


    Corax: “You can talk. What are you trying to pull with all that blonde crap coming out of your head? The grizzled heavy metal guitar player who refuses to acknowledge the genre is dead look?”


    Lion El’jonson: “Nonsense. This was the style at the time on Caliban … and besides everyone knows you can’t kill the metal*. Especially emo. What can you possible do? Throw depressing poetry at it?”


    Corax: “Says the man with a sword that sings 'Crawling' every time he unsheaths it”


    Lion El'jonson: “It doesn't do that any more; for some reason it's now obsessed with 'The Catalyst' instead. Keeps trying to hum the main beat, makes it sound like it's having an epileptic fit”


    Vulkan: “Have we quite finished hijacking the conversation for our own ends. Do remember we're currently standing in front of a large audience containing most of our respective chapters, oh and an Inquisitor...”


    Inquisitor Badass:
    “Don't mind me. Just sitting here being ominous”


    Vulkan: “... yes … quite. Anyway, TL-semi-colon-DLTTFP** the Eldar are currently holding out top Guard generals as hostages and demanding that we halt our current campaign in what they claim is their rightful territory” General laughter as everyone enjoys the old joke that alien races could believe they have the right to hold territory anywhere. “We're of course here to remind them that this doesn't hold true in any universe, fan-written or otherwise. I believe standard Astartes tactics should be fine here. No need diverging from the standard norm, after all they do have prescient generals on their side. If they can see anything coming there's no point in developing a clever battle strategy, is there?”


    A general murmur of agreement rises from the audience.


    Vulkan: “I want everyone in their drop-pods at the commencement of the mission. Anyone not with their appointed battle squads when the counter hits zero will be left behind and will have to do the laundry for when everyone gets back, understood?” More murmurs. “Excellent. Corax, would you be so kind as to describe the topographical layout of the mission zone?”


    Corax: “... what?”


    Vulkan: “Where all the squishy eldar are currently hiding”


    Corax: “... they're not really hiding. They're kind of standing there in plain sight. With titans. You can't really hide titans”


    Vulkan: “Just describe what we'll be shooting up, please?”


    Corax: “Oh … right. Well … eldar … stuff. Titans as well. Eldar titans. So they'll be running around the place being very hard to hit. Shoot where you think they'll be, not where they currently are, as where they currently are will not be where you think they'll be, and where you think they'll be won't be where they currently are. Understood?”


    Silence.


    Lion El'jonson: “We're packing vortex grenades”


    Huge cheer erupts from the audience.


    Vulkan: Grinning. “Gentlemen, to your drop-pods please. We have squishy eldar to squish and squishy guard to save. It's going to be a good day for the Space Marines”


    = P = R = I = M = A = R = C = H = S =

    Nuadhu, the Fireheart: “Today will be a good day for the Eldar!” Frowns and turns to the seer standing beside him. “Why did you chuckle when I said that?”


    Iyanna Arienal:
    Composing herself. “Oh I do apologise. I just foresaw the dramatic irony in what you just said. It was mildly amusing”


    Nuadhu, the Fireheart: “Yes … anyway … to rephrase what I just said for the convenience of the reader: the mon'keigh are approaching in their blasted space craft with those so-called 'elite' of their empire, the Space Marines. We have more than enough starcannons in our possession to make them cry like little girls, but it falls to the majority of us to keep those cannons alive. Especially since most of them are equipped on the Vypers of my wild host. You know how skimmers haven't been the same since the good old days of 4th edition? Well we need to keep those AV10 beauties flying. Be loud, be noisy, insult their mothers. Whatever it takes to keep the mon'keigh focused on you and not on the flying glass spears of Khaine. Understood?”


    The audience of the room, an assemblage of the best minds, strategic geniuses, and warriors of the eldar currently occupying the world, all nod in silent unison.


    Nuadhu, the Fireheart: “Excellent. Arienal, would you like to take this next part?”


    Iyanna Arienal: Swapping places with Nuadhu to stand in the literal spotlight. “The mon'keigh will use their standard tactic of abusing the first turn deep striking capabilities of their drop pods. They will most likely 'borrow' the rules for Land Raiders from their brethren the Blood Angels to allow them to deep strike their lumbering behemoths directly alongside the rest of their forces. These Land Raiders will most likely be of the Redeemer pattern, and be containing Tactical Dreadnought-users with thunder hammers and storm shields. In other words; this will be a cookie-cutter Space Marine list. However, be on the lookout for any bursts of invention the three Primarchs we know are aboard may possess”


    A hand rises from the audience.


    Iyanna Arienal:
    “Yes, Exarch?”


    Random Exarch Who Is Not Important To The Plot: “I have a question about paragraph c, subsection a, sentence twelve, of chapter fourteen, of stage twenty-seven of the plan. When you say 'circulate known threats utilising cover as maximum advantage to enemy counter-attack' which way should we circulate, clockwise or anticlockwise?”


    Nuadhu, the Fireheart: “Whatever seems most advantageous in the current situation. Or, failing that, roll a dice”


    Iyanna Arienal:
    “Die”


    Nuadhu, the Fireheart:
    “What?”


    Iyanna Arienal: “The singular of 'dice' is 'a die'”


    Nuadhu, the Fireheart: “Oh whatever. Any more questions?”


    Another Random Exarch Who Is Not Important To The Plot: “When will lunch be served?”


    Iyanna Arienal: “When the culinary aspect chiefs tell us. Well … if that wraps everything up … I guess meeting is adjourned?”


    As everyone begins to slowly filter out of the grand meeting room, Nuadhu moves to where Iyanna stands while pretending to be completely casual about the whole thing.


    Nuadhu, the Fireheart: “So … doing anything before the battle begins?”


    Iyanna Arienal: “Why yes. Not having sex with you” And with that said, she walks off.


    Nuadhu, the Fireheart: “Damn … what am I supposed to do now?”


    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    *An established and proven scientific fact. Metal will never die. It’s far too awesome for that.


    **Too Long; Didn't Listen To Those Fething Primarchs
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

  20. #20
    Chapter Master Lastie's Avatar
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    Re: Primarchs

    ================================================== ==========
    * P * R * I * M * A * R * C * H * S *
    ================================================== ==========
    LORDS OF CANON ARC
    CHAPTER XII


    Thousand of years before the plot device mere mortals refer to as the Emperor sat up one morning and decided to conquer the galaxy Humanity was enjoying somewhat of a golden age. In fact this period of history, still roughly sketched out on the back of a used napkin after Alan Merrett and Rick Priestly ordered pizza in-office one evening, is sometimes referred to by the few historians of the Imperium as The Golden Age. (Not to be confused with the Golden Age of Technology, which is the Dark Age of Technology for those who know how to switch their mobile on without saying a fourteen minute prayer beforehand.) During this grand age of exploration mankind spread across the stars like spilt wine on a tablecloth, colonising thousands of planets, organising grand complex political machinations, and getting high on worm crap … possibly. Either that or I’m getting confused with Dune again*. One such planet colonised during this time was a small world, fourth from its sun, that the inhabitants called Blessing. Fast-forward several thousand years and one Adeptus Terra exploration later Blessing became known, due to the general laziness of Imperial planetographers, as Rndum. Ten thousand years of continuous petitions have not altered this fact**.

    Rndum Immigrations Control Adept: “Anything to declare?”

    Ferrus Manus: Blinks in surprise. “I’m sorry … do you not know who I am?”

    Rndum Immigrations Control Adept: Waves his passport in front of him. “I can read. Anything to declare Mr Manus?”

    Ferrus Manus: “Er … saving the Imperium … business as usual”

    Rndum Immigrations Control Adept: “I’ll put you down under business trip then. Be aware that only extends you to a six month stay. Any longer requires application for Rndum citizenship. Understand?”

    Ferrus Manus: Opens his mouth to say something sarcastic, then thinks better of it. “Yes … I understand”

    Rndum Immigrations Control Adept: Stamps the passport and hands it back to Ferrus. “Welcome to Rndum. Enjoy your stay”

    Ferrus Manus: He gives in to the sarcasm. “I’m sure I will”

    Ferrus moves through immigrations into the arrival lounge proper. There he finds Asdrubael Vect, Lelith Hesperax, Urien Rakarth, and DECAPITATOR waiting for him at the CFT (Catachan Fried Toads, the Imperium’s most popular fast food chain).

    Ferrus Manus: “OK … how the hell did you guys get through customs? You’re not really making much of an effort to be inconspicuous here, you realise?”

    Asdrubael Vect: Slurping down an extra large cola while the remains of his crispy fried toad ribs grow cold in the polystyrene tray. “What do you mean? I’m wearing my best inconspicuous gear!”

    Ferrus Manus: “An ‘I Heart The Emperor’ t-shirt?”

    Asdrubael Vect: “What? Not devoted enough? I’ve got a Buddy Emperor one if that’ll look better. How much is the Creed embraced around here? Don’t see many shrines by the tills, not much flagellation going on either … look at those girls over there; look what they’re wearing. Wouldn’t get away with that in Commorragh … barely any flesh on display!”

    Lelith Hesperax: “Disgusting. Not even a midriff. When I was their age there wasn’t a part of my body that I hadn’t shown off in public”

    Ferrus Manus: Discovers his mouth has been hanging open during that exchange. “They’re twelve years old! At the least!!!”

    The Dark Eldar look at him in confusion.

    Lelith Hesperax: “And?”

    Ferrus Manus: Sighing. “Forget I spoke. My point remains, however: loose the ridiculous garb. Vect; get rid of the t-shirt, it just screams ignorant tourist from an alien empire, get something plain and unassuming like a polo shirt – don’t give me that look, I hate them too but the point is so does everyone else with a heartbeat so no one will look at you – and a hat to cover those pointy ears. Lelith; wear more clothes. Full stop. Urien; get that guy’s face off your face before someone notices. Yes I know underneath those gorgeous features you stoke you’re really an ugly son of a bitch but we’re not here to pick up chicks. Finally … DECAPITATOR … you can stay as you are. That’s a decent outfit you’ve got there. Where did you find it?”

    DECAPITATOR: “Primark”

    Ferrus Manus: “Figures. OK … we’ll meet back here in a time-skip”

    Fifteen minutes later.

    Ferrus Manus: “Much better!”

    Lelith Hesperax: Staring at herself in disgust. “I feel so … conservative. Can I at least lower the neckline below my neck?”

    Ferrus Manus: “Then it ceases to be a neckline and becomes more of a breastline, does it not?”

    Lelith Hesperax: “I think that’s the point”

    Ferrus Manus: “That may be but I’m afraid the censors won’t allow suggestive sexuality in our war porn fiction”

    Lelith Hesperax: “So we can happily describe the myriad ways one living being can brutally, sadistically, and coldly end the life of another living being, but we can’t have any mention of a act of loving physical intimacy between two consensual adult beings simply wishing to enjoy the sensations of each other’s bodies?”

    Ferrus Manus: “Basically yes”

    Asdrubael Vect: “I’d like to chip in here and put forward two points if I may?” The others look at him hesitantly, then eventually nod not quite knowing what they will be unleashing here. “Firstly; that’s a sorry indication of your species if you consider physical violence a lesser evil than sex. You would quite happily let our children play with models decorated with the decapitated skulls of other beings but cry for censorship over the bared breasts of a elf? Why indeed! Let us shun those evil nipples and bring forth the family-friendly exposed intestines and bloody giblets! What morals does that teach the successive generation? Do you not think you have this backwards? Make love not war!”

    Silence.

    Ferrus Manus: “Have you quite finished channelling the author for yet another of his ill-disguised and ultimately pointless rants?”

    Asdrubael Vect: Blinks. “I think I am. Whoa … that was scary. You don’t think an Author Filibuster is going to happen to you … until it does. Then you wonder where all the words came from …”

    Urien Rakarth: “You said you had two points?”

    Asdrubael Vect: “I just wondered why the consenting bodies had to be adult, that was all”

    Ferrus Manus: “Now see this is why we don’t ask Vect to clarify his opinions … this is also why I should stop hanging around with Kabalite Eldar … how did this all happen?”

    Asdrubael Vect: “We could look back through the archives of PRIMARCHS to find out if you want”

    Ferrus Manus: “I’d rather not. There’s more bad writing and inconsistencies there than the average BL section at Waterstones. Look lets just find Pie May and get this story arc over and done with so I can get back to fragging my boys at Counter-Strike”

    Asdrubael Vect: “You still play that game?”

    Ferrus Manus: “That’s not the point. The point is: where is Pie May? I hate to remind people how large planets can be (most sci-fi writers forget as it is) but there’s over fourteen thousand major cities on this world and over a million smaller settlements in the more habitable areas of the continents. If he’s camped out in the wilderness of the uninhabited parts of this world we’re additionally screwed. That’s a lot of ground to cover without an address”

    Asdrubael Vect: “Ah … yes … I was hoping that narrative convenience would make this a ‘small world’ in the more literal sense. He apparently keeps moving from place to place, so tracking down where he’s currently staying might be tricky”

    Ferrus Manus: “So you brought me to this world to find a man with no real idea of how to accomplish that?”

    Asdrubael Vect: “Relax, I’ll think of something. I always do”

    Ferrus Manus: Noticing crowds gathering nearby, stands up to see over everyone’s head then quickly sits back down again. “You might want to think of something now”

    Asdrubael Vect: “Why? What’s happening?”

    Ferrus Manus: “Dorn’s here with Khan and by the looks of it quite a few of their drinking buddies. They can’t see me here; I’m supposed to be in a different segmentum following dad’s orders. They especially can’t see me with you guys! Khan will flip a lid! He might actually say something! He hates you guys!”

    Asdrubael Vect: “Really? I thought he enjoyed the gladiatorial combat? We made him a star! Damn celebrities thinking they don’t need their managers when they make it … OK lets think”

    Ferrus Manus: “Hurry they’re getting closer!”

    Asdrubael Vect: “What this scene needs … is a jump cut!”

    = P = R = I = M = A = R = C = H = S =

    Asdrubael Vect: “See? Sorted”

    Ferrus Manus: “But people are only going to wonder how we got from a spaceport to this deserted back alley without anyone noticing us, especially my brothers and their genetically engineered soldiers”

    Asdrubael Vect: “Let them wonder. We’ve got more important things to do. Like finding irate small questionably oriental teachers”

    Ferrus Manus: “And you wonder why the Plot Hole tried to eat us all …”

    TO BE CONTINUED ...

    *It’s common knowledge that Frank Herbert ripped off Games Workshop, after all.

    **They did try. However it was pointed out to them, via the usual Imperial method of boltgun rounds to the face, that disregarding Adeptus naming conventions was disregarding the will of the Emperor. Bad things happen that way.
    "It is the nature of men to create monsters, and it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers"

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