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Post by ElegaicRequiem on May 2, 2010 20:17:49 GMT -5
Guys aren't supposed to shave their legs. Just wear pants to conceal them.
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Post by Melissia on May 2, 2010 21:14:18 GMT -5
Hairy legs are nasty... and you can't always be wearing pants, not if you have a girlfriend anyway. Oh wait...
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on May 2, 2010 21:42:24 GMT -5
Agreed on both counts. I have to make sacrifices as the High Lord of Terra's pants. Some are bigger than others...
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Post by Rolling Thunder on May 3, 2010 6:32:33 GMT -5
Any heterosexual man shaving his legs is heresy. Well, unless he's a swimmer or cyclist....then it's vaguely acceptable. Weird, but acceptable.
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Post by Makarova (M.I.A) on May 3, 2010 7:53:28 GMT -5
I would be kind of weirded out if RT shaved his legs...
If I had a girlfriend though, that's another matter. Have you found someone Mel? =D
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Post by John_Galt (M.I.A) on May 3, 2010 12:38:18 GMT -5
*Begins setting clowns aflame with RT's inferno cannon and laughing hysterically*
Purging heresy is no laughing matter, unless you're purging clowns.
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Post by commissargaunt on May 3, 2010 12:53:11 GMT -5
who said anything about purging clowns...
*slowly racks arbite shotgun*
*in a Dirty Harry-esque voice* I hate clowns...
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Post by cheminhaler on May 3, 2010 14:02:41 GMT -5
No way! Hairy mutants have rights, too, you know!
*Holds up Hairy Mutant Rights placard.*
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Post by Rolling Thunder on May 3, 2010 14:10:54 GMT -5
Stop that cheminhaler, we've clowns to burn!
*Tosses a flamer to Chem*
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Post by cheminhaler on May 3, 2010 14:32:14 GMT -5
OK, maybe douse them with kerosene first.
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Post by Gabriel Lupus on May 8, 2010 3:54:28 GMT -5
*finally recovers after the terror of seeing the Ronald clown*
KILL ALL CLOWNS! *runs into a circus wielding a shotgun... ++censored++... Gabriel emerges some hours later, blood stained but happy with the severed head of the lead clown dangling from his belt. An faint smell of kerosene drifts on the air as Gabriel tosses the stub of a still lit Lho stick back into the Big Top.*
ah... much better...
*as Gabriel wanders away the Big Top becomes a blazing inferno, and the sounds of trapped clowns, screaming as they burn to death, fills the night air*
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Post by cheminhaler on May 8, 2010 13:39:07 GMT -5
Weren't those clowns wearing holo-suits?
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on May 8, 2010 14:27:47 GMT -5
*finally recovers after the terror of seeing the Ronald clown* KILL ALL CLOWNS! *runs into a circus wielding a shotgun... ++censored++... Gabriel emerges some hours later, blood stained but happy with the severed head of the lead clown dangling from his belt. An faint smell of kerosene drifts on the air as Gabriel tosses the stub of a still lit Lho stick back into the Big Top.* ah... much better... *as Gabriel wanders away the Big Top becomes a blazing inferno, and the sounds of trapped clowns, screaming as they burn to death, fills the night air* *Amidst the screams, faint laughter can be heard. Not evil laughter, but the laughter of someone who thought this was all very funny; as if burning clowns was the punchline to a joke. The scene is heat-blurred and flames dance, throwing delicate ash upwards like grim confetti. Support lines snap with sudden violence, whipping through the few survivors who had managed to crawl from the giant tent. Children and their parents who had paid to see the circus, who hours ago had been the very picture of joyous family outings - cotton candy-stained faces, hands salted from peanuts, and the laughter still ringing silently in the souvenir photos that were $1.00 for a set of four - now caked with dirt and blood and soot and tears, crying to God asking why and what and how. A young woman who's blouse is ablaze frantically rolls on the ground to snuff the fire. A middle-aged man holds the broken and charred form of his son, the boy had just been accepted for a scholarship at a prestigious university for excellence in the sciences. Now a 3/4 inch steel cable snaps, and the woman jumps to push the grieving man out of the way, only to have the iron whip wrap itself around her neck, almost severing it from her body. Then man, shaken beyond what his mind can handle at these series of events, now notices the laughter. He's confused for a moment, but soon joins it. His laughter is not mirthful, but tinged with madness. His suffering comes to an end, as the popcorn cart he'd been pushed into by the now-dead woman falls on him, causing him to choke on his own tongue. The laughter grows, unabated and unaffected by the holocaust of this former circus as the Big Top descends - or what's left of it. And from the ashes, rises what looks like a small child. The screams of human suffering have all but died away, but the laughter grows only louder. The light from the fire dims as the fabric and sebaceous oil burn off of the scene. One of the 30,000 watt spotlights briefly returns to working order, and shines on the solitary laughing figure in the center of the carnage. The silhouette stands, and in the whitish-blue light, it can be seen clearly - a Dark Eldar midget in whiteface. Then the light finally succumbs to the excess heat, and bursts, sending a shower of sparks and glass shrapnel down in a sizzling shower, and bringing near-darkness to the scene.* Lupus, what have you done?!
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Post by Rolling Thunder on May 8, 2010 15:24:20 GMT -5
*Looks on in horror*
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Post by Julian Sharps on May 8, 2010 16:42:42 GMT -5
Gentlemen, we are now officially boned.
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on May 8, 2010 17:01:38 GMT -5
*The unholy creature stands, amusement evident, even on it's alien features. A small circle around where it had taken cover was untouched by the inferno's fury. The grace with which it danced about the new wasteland causes a subtle clenching of the gut - a sickening, instinctual knowledge that whatever this thing was, it wasn't human.
It seemed to almost hover over the smoldering ground, only tip-toeing every few meters. And it was still laughing. On it's stunted left arm was an incongruously large tube that tapered to a sharpened tip. That tip found its way into the chest of a struggling ring master who was trapped under a 6x8 beam of pressure treated lumber, which had been painted in a cheerful bright green. Scraps of miraculously unburned fabric still clung to the beam, with the words, "Greatest show on" still legible.
A soft, innocuous thump accompanied the touch of the eburnean-faced freak, and the man seemed to be perplexed for a moment before erupting in a spray of red gore. He never made a sound, except for the nigh-inaudible 'plurt' of wet ribbons of what remained of his flesh striking the fairgrounds.
The specter of Cegorach turns to face Lupus, its head tilted to the side in contemplation.*
"I am the Solitaire. Care to join my troupe?"
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Post by Gabriel Lupus on May 8, 2010 19:28:43 GMT -5
Lupus took in the scene of devastation, satisfied that the Emperor's will has been enforced even at the cost of so many innocent lives. Better that a hundred innocents die than a single Heretic (especially a clown) should go unpunished... and yet this foul Xeno, a true blasphemy against Him on Earth, had escaped...
Gabriel dropped his eyes down to the shotgun in his hands and racked the slide sending an empty cartridge tumbling to the sorched ground. The flames danced in his peripheral vision, the flickering brightness of the fire casting an ever more sinister appearance to the Alien in front of him and for a fleeting moment, Gabriel fancied that maybe the Harlequin hadn't escaped untouched, maybe this foul visage in front of him was some form of cruel hallucination... but no, however insubstantial the firelight made the solitaire seem, he was as inevitably and irrevocably real.
Briefly Gabriel considered his chances of raising the shotgun and killing the solitaire there and then, the speed he would need to bring the weapon up, the accuracy required even at this short distance, the repurcussions should the shot fail to be immediately fatal. This was not the time nor place for such foolish actions. There would be another time to deal that blow, and when that time came, Gabriel would be ready.
Slowly, careful to show no outward signs of aggression, Gabriel returned his shotgun to it's holster. Without looking up at that grinning, leering, ever changing face-mask, Gabriel licked his lips and, raising his voice only just sufficiently enough to be heard above the background noise, he whispered, "Our paths may cross again, for the good of both our races. We may find ourselves fighting back to back against things to evil to speak of. We may even need to fufil each others agendas for some common good. But I shall never join you - and one day, I will kill you..."
Not looking up, not waiting for an answer, Gabriel turned around and began to walk away into the night.
(and all this because someone mentioned clowns...)
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on May 8, 2010 20:25:13 GMT -5
*The xenos midget simply continues to laugh as the Inquisitor walks away.*
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Post by Rolling Thunder on May 9, 2010 9:48:19 GMT -5
*Whispers to Sharps*
Right, I'll distract it. You get close and hit it with the demo charge.
*Picks up a monkey wrench, weighing it experimentally in his palm...
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Post by Julian Sharps on May 10, 2010 9:30:34 GMT -5
Forget the demo charge, I'm calling in an airstrike.
If worst comes to worst, I also have my trusty power shovel.
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on May 10, 2010 10:58:23 GMT -5
*Carnage and blood, bones, broken teeth....fire and pain. These things filled his mind and corrupted his thoughts. A horrible hunger clawed at the insides of his guts, his mouth salivating, the empty feeling inside of him growing unit he could no longer stand to bear it. Through the smoke and ruins he stalked, creeping across corpses as he scurried from shadow to shadow like some kind of ghoulish apparition. He was getting closer to the source, closer to the eye in this hurricane of violence.
He crept upon the laughing midget and felt a skeletal grin crease across his features, his eyes wide and dark...the very visage of death himself, gaunt faced...starving. The inside of his head roared with noise, a thousand whispering voices punctuated with inhuman screams that filled his limbs with excitement and caused his body to tremble with anticipation.
Silently he rose up over the awful little creature, back straight, shoulders limp, still smiling that reaper smile, then like the lashing arms of a giant mantis he reached out with talon fingers to snatch up the disgusting little clown in his iron grasp while grotesquely unhinging his jaw as he opens his mouth wide and begins to swallow the little bastard whole. Satiating his hunger for a time through the act of devouring this small morsel of pure evil. The midget clown kicking and struggling all the while as Ymmot tilts his head back and greedily forces the loathsome thing down his widening gullet.*
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Post by spazmunke on May 10, 2010 22:52:46 GMT -5
kinda random, but the opening line to one of my favorite dark poems:
Trumpets triumph and red disaster white skulls litter the broken sod and we who ride for the one black master howl at the iron gates of god
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on May 10, 2010 23:00:30 GMT -5
*Being the most dangerous Eldar in existence, the Solitaire didn't bother to resist as ymmot consumed him whole. It didn't even stop laughing. Moments after the Rocketman closed his disgustingly distended mouth, a webway portal opens inside the erstwhile human, and he implodes with a wet sucking sound. A flash of light, and an incongruous 'pop' reveal the Solitaire in midair, slowly floating back down to rest upon the wet and greasy red stain that was once a fine member of the IGMB. The dirty little alien brushed an imaginary speck from its armored shoulder.*
Should have worn the helmet.
... ah, he'll be fine. This sort of thing has happened before. I can't wait until he congeals - his clothes are all ruined, and I can pin him with another count of pants heresy.
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on May 11, 2010 10:06:23 GMT -5
*The temporary destruction of his corporeal body did not dissuade him, his specter lingered, like a wispy silhouette of smoke. He hung motionless...smiling if only he had a mouth to smile with.*
An interesting turn of events...
Yay, Dark Eldar codex!
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Post by Gabriel Lupus on May 11, 2010 14:37:30 GMT -5
I feel we may have digressed from discussion of the upcoming Dark Eldar Codex *looks at the smoking charred mess of the Big Top Circus tent... and it's similarity to the mess of the thread...*
ah well...
Gabriel boarded a nearby Aquila, the Storm Trooper honour guard falling in behind him. As the ship took off and headed for high orbit and the familiar intimidating form of the Orinocho, Emperor Class Battleship, Gabriel wondered whether the planet below him had fallen too far from the Emperor's grace... one last sanction remained for him. One last ultimate judgement, open to him as an Inquisitor of the Emperor's most Holy Orders of the Imperial Inquisition.
Exterminatus.
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