Post by Hetfiltrator on Jun 27, 2009 17:27:18 GMT -5
*Hetlan's head goes flying* Kukukukukuku *head quickly decomposes and the skull muscles and skin regenerate back on hetlan's body* Oh Guant, darling you think that will kill me *Impales Guant with iron beam then pulls lever to extend spikes puncturing all of guant's internal organs and rips him to shreds*
Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Jun 28, 2009 17:10:49 GMT -5
Greetings everyone, I am called Ymmot Samoht. I have been accused of many crimes against humanity, indeed against the entire galaxy...many of accusations are true, some are false,but that is beside the point...many of you know who I am, many of you know what I am capable of...
To Humanity and the Tau I am called King of the Rocketmen to the Eldar race I am the rumored lost Avatar of Vaul, master of machines and arcane sorcery, to the Orks I am called Big Mek Smash Face and to the forces of Chaos I am known as the Sorcerer Yrogreg.
In my long years I have been champion of the Emperor, devotee of Tzneetch, and emissary of Mork...I have wandered the endless expanses of the warp and I have seen every corner of the galaxy, forbidden secrets and hidden lore are known to me. I have stood in the great galleries of the Black Library and I strayed eternal in the Crystal Labyrinth in my waking dreams...
Despite this all I am just a man, driven by human desires and human ambition, I know what it is like to be you, to be among you, a simple man among the teeming billions of humanity but I aspire to something more, something greater burns white hot within my heart...I have gazed upon humanity' s accomplishments, marveled at our triumphs and mourned our defeat...and in the end I have come to realize something and understand what I fear I have always known.
Humanity is a plague...society is a debilitating disease and for all our good deeds and well intentions the only reward for the living is death...
I now seek to overthrow society and topple the Imperium of man, it is corrupt and unsavable, the Emperor is dying...his great dream never fully realized, it has taken ten thousand years but now it is time to stop...I will save the Emperor from the Imperium and finally give him ever lasting rest...the Emperor has sacrificed enough...now it is time for us to sacrifice ourselves.
I do not strike out at the Imperium in the name of chaos, though chaos will surly benefit when anarchy reigns supreme...the galaxy will ignite in the flames of terror and hate and a wave of destruction will cleanse the sins of the universe away, that which is left in the aftermath will be pure...saved because survival is their fate...they will start again and rebuild atop our ashes...and thus the cycle of life shall begin anew...
today begins a most horrible trial...a time of great upheaval and woe...
Minions, Prime the Squirrel Cannon... prepare to fire upon the planet Earth!
Post by commissargaunt on Jun 28, 2009 17:37:41 GMT -5
*appears from behind dark cloak at Ymmot's side and broadcasts a message to Hetlan* why master Hetlan you thought you had killed me, well you are wrong my dear friend you in fact just killed one of the many black guards dressed as me in an effort to distract and confuse you MWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!*
Master Ymmot, my legions of black guards stand ready and the squirrel cannon is primed shall we launch our attack?
Adeptus Arbites: Telling mass-murdering Heretics to pull over since M32
The Hauberkan 23rd Infantry Regiment "Howling Hauberks"
"I thought you said you were going to kill me last!"
Post by commissargaunt on Jun 28, 2009 17:41:36 GMT -5
Yes my master now where were we...
*kicks back guard captain to the ground and shoots him for failing to kill Hetlan*
*steps onto podium in front of the serried ranks of a billion black guardsmen and women and an equal number of tanks and artillery pieces*
Legions of evil! Today we will take our revenge on those that repressed us! those that said we must wear pants! those that forced us to spell using correct grammar and punctuation! But I say NO LONGER!
Men! this day the forces that sought to oppress our slovenly ways of not wearing pants or spellchecking our work will be brought to their knees! Today we shall fight and win! FORWARDS FOR THE GLORY OF YMMOT!
Post by ElegaicRequiem on Jun 28, 2009 23:01:18 GMT -5
*I think to myself: it would be nice if we hadn't disabled the anti-cheese weapon during the Gothitean Schism... The Squirrel Cannon is one of the few forces in the galaxy that can counter the Doomick's Cube. The White Fleet is still at two thirds strength, and repairs to the Ministry palace are not yet complete. Planetary separation and space flight are emergency measures, and they can only be used at a price. I sighed. Our only hope is the new superweapon we've been working on for the past three weeks - something more subtle than the Doomick's Cube, but infinitely more terrifying. If only we had access to the same technology the Emperor used to create his primarchs, we'd be finished. As it is, we'll be working for another few days. I pray that it will be ready, and get to Terra in time.*
You... me... my basement...
May 31, 2010 15:13:05 GMT -5 Makarova said: Shut up and get in his basement.
Post by John_Galt (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 10:31:03 GMT -5
Hey ElegaicRequiem, just got off the phone with the Munistorium, the parts we need to finish the super weapon are on back order and won't get here for another week, warp permitting. We need to hold out until then.
Post by Rolling Thunder on Jun 29, 2009 11:14:08 GMT -5
*Puts on Captain Morgan's Revenge, by Alestorm*
Let's Get Ready To Rumble!
*Unsheathes Daemon Weapon.*
A wall of black charged, their eyes burning with a silent hatred as they rushed onwards. Standing alone, against so many, Rolling Thunder stood. Great, dark shadows enrounded his eyes, sheer, deadening fatigue laying siege to his mind. The Black Guard close in, and for a moment, Rolling Thunder is buried under a tsunami of shade-armoured warriors, one hundred cuts and stabs cutting into him as they Black Guard attempt to overwhelm him with numbers.
An eruption - not an explosion, but sheer, raw force throws off the Black Guard, as Thunder stands once more, the wings of a Daemon unfolding behind him, as his fingers lengthen into grasping, black talons, his flesh whitening to a pure, almost blinding luminescence, as if the roiling fury of a white star burned beneath his flesh. The Daemonsword's black surface flickered, from the ruddy dark of blood, to a deep, imperial blue, to a laviscous, luxuriant purple and finally, a green-black sheen, before returning once more to it's inky, abyssal darkness. A colour for each Greater Daemon bound within. Khorne. Tzeentch. Slaneesh. Nurgle.
The Black Guard were fearless, supposedly, but something - something, within the lurking depts of their automaton minds - tripped, and sent them fleeing, scattering as their regiment dissolved, terror spreading outwards like a ripple from the towering, black-winged monster that stood at the central point.
The soft 'beep' of the Homer announced it's readiness, and, with a paradoxical, almost quixotic grace, Rolling Thunder laid it down....
*Rushes the white daemon form of RT wielding the black blade with a finesse never before seen since the Emperor's battle with Horus many aeons ago, the black sword clashes with RT's daemon weapon, then the blade's true nature is revealed it is a daemon weapon of the outcast god, MALAL! RT's blade turns in on itself and with a mighty blast the daemon forms within it are turned upon each other and themselves, shattering the blade and leaving RT stunned.
Commissargaunt then presses his advantage and with a mighty leap and a precision sweep of his blade RT's head is severed and his daemon form falls to the ground.
commissargaunt then engages his personal teleporter and after reaching the safety of Ymmot's sanctum to report his success orders the black guard to dispose of RT's body*
Post by John_Galt (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 11:49:16 GMT -5
With a crack of ionized air, John Galt suddenly materialized where seconds before had been nothing, his shotgun pointing outwards at the ready. Next to him was a shopping cart "liberated" from Aquila Groceries & Pharmacy, but in place of the usual assortment of grox steaks and strange xeno vegetables was a precariously arranged pile of demo charges.
However, something went wrong. Galt surveyed his surroundings. The room was dank and smelled of watermould and ozone. A tattered ornage banner to the glory of Ymmot hung from the wall, adding to the collection of long rust stains decorating the chamber's iron walls. It was clear this area of the fortress hadn't been used in some time. Of more immediate concern, there was no sign of RT or the teleport homer. Did something disrupt the signal?
"Where the hell am I?"
Regardless, Galt rested his shotgun on the cart's child seat and pushed onwards.
Post by John_Galt (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 12:06:26 GMT -5
The tunnel was quiet. Very quiet. All that could be heard was the occassional drip from a leaky pipe and the squeaking of the wheels of his shopping cart as Galt pushed ever deeper into Ymmots fortress.
Suddenly, static burst violently into his ear, causing a startled Galt to jump and nearly soil himself.
Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 12:27:04 GMT -5
Rolling Thunder is not easily killed...he is still the my main concern. I don't care if you say you killed him, he lives and I can feel it.
as for the intruders? the abandoned fortress complex you say? they will not reach us without difficulty...my abandoned experiments are lurking down there...grotesque hybrids of sorcery and technology, tormented by endless pain and blind to everything but hatred ...they will find the intruders and they will rip them to pieces...
however, send a guard detail to block the exit, eradicate any survivors that manage to escape the maze.
Post by Rolling Thunder on Jun 29, 2009 12:29:30 GMT -5
Unfortunately for CommissarGaunt, he had forgotten that Rolling Thunder's Moddissar powers rendered him invulnerable to Godmodding, so, as a result, his own blade lies shattered, his body broken and his mind slowly fragmenting under the sheer, crushing weight of agony that had been ingnited through his body. As his brain replayed the last scene, dreaming hopelessly of victory, his eyes tracked as Rolling Thunder stood. The Daemon weapon remained on his back - back on it's leash, the wings fading into so much shadow and gloom . Only the monstrous, superhuman smile remained, wreathed in a nightmare halo of depraved glee. Red-black blood streaked his hair, his face, matting the fabric of his coat, utterly covering his hands in a incarnidine sheen of blood. His blood, he realised, as the man of Thunder leaned over his shattered form, satisfied with the carnage his bare fists had wrought.
And, like the flash of the opening of a vampire's wings, he dissappeared in a flare of darkness.