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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 12:32:01 GMT -5
if I didn't kill RT what did I do oh lord? Likely you only made him angry...
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Post by John_Galt (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 12:42:03 GMT -5
For a while all Galt could hear was the monotonous drip of leaky pipes and the squeak of his cart's wheels on the dusty iron floor. Now there was a new sound. A clawing, scraping sound, like a sharp rock being dragged across a dry tree. Something else was down here, and it was close. The air in the corridor changed too. The metallic smell of iron and mildew was replaced by something...sweet. Unidentifiable, but thouroughly unpleasant, almost overpowering, yet still very subtle. Galt racked his shotgun, unnerved, and left the cart to investigate. Comming to a four way intersection, Galt turned left, following the sound of the scraping. It was getting louder, and began to echo down the iron tunnels. The hallway emptied out into a large, dark chamber, the only light slipping in from the hallway behind Galt. All that was visible were a few lab benches close to the entrance, the rest was shrouded in darkness. Galt activated the the flashlight on the bayonet lug of his shotgun, and a bright beam f light stabbed into the darkness. Pannign around, Galt saw the remains of what looked to be a laboratory, long since abandoned. Flasks and beakers littlered the benches and floor. Many were broken. He noticed a few large vats, with round brass bases and glass walls. All were smashed out, broken glass and the stains of dried amniotic fluids littering the floor. Upon further inspection, he noticed a lab coat lying neatly on the floor, except it was neither neat nor empty. The coat was torn in many places and caked in dried blood. Dessicated skeletal limbs reached out from under it in distress and agnony. Whatever experiments had gone on here, they obviously had not ended well (or to Ymmot, were completly successful, you never could really be sure). Having seen enough, Galt turned to leave, when he finally noticed the scraping noise which had led him here had stopped, so he paused to listen. It saved his life. (want to find out what happens? too bad, I'm only the side story at he moment )
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Post by Hetfiltrator on Jun 29, 2009 15:21:57 GMT -5
Hetlan threw on his trenchcoat and hat. He picked up his Demolisher pistol and holstered it. He then picked up his chainswords and slung them over his back. He tied his boots, drank some water and was out the door. He was late for work......AGAIN.
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Post by commissargaunt on Jun 29, 2009 17:01:53 GMT -5
*meanwhile in the inner sanctum*
Ymmot, sire, should I release the secret and ultimate weapon against the mighty RT?
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Jun 29, 2009 17:35:59 GMT -5
<Meanwhile, in another part of the galaxy...>
*I stared at the pict-feed from Terra. The Squirrel Cannon sat in orbit over the earth like a raven perched on a fence. Watching. Waiting. What was ymmot doing? What could he be planning? The cannon wasn't firing, and the only reasons I could guess for that were: there were malfunctions (and I hoped that my allies were the cause), or he was savoring his moment. I didn't like that last one at all. Did the foul technomancer have the gall to play with us? With the Ministry? With the Grammar Gestapo?? I looked back to the lump of flesh growing in the special vat we had constructed on this forgotten moon.*
Soon my child, soon. You will be the greatest legacy of the Ministry. The galaxy will be yours.
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Jun 29, 2009 17:41:42 GMT -5
"Soon the rebellion will be crushed." is the first thing that came to mind when you said that Req.
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Jun 29, 2009 17:43:52 GMT -5
OOC: Yes, ymmot and his pitiful little band...
OMG! ymmoT and the AutomatA = Epic win band name.
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Post by Hetfiltrator on Jun 29, 2009 17:49:18 GMT -5
*Appears next to Requiem* my lord what can the R&D do for you?
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 18:05:55 GMT -5
distractions...distractions... Rolling Thunder is on the loose, pantsmandos or worse are lurking in the under levels... my other enemies have yet to reveal themselves to me...
*sigh* what ultimate weapon ? oh right... that... sure it might keep him distracted for awhile.
*looks up toward the viewing screen at the planet below and makes the sign of the Aquila across his chest.*
firing solution? excellent...
strike the palace.
*lances Terra with a warp generated beam projected from the mighty squirrel cannon.*
Prepare for retaliation...now there can be no turning back!
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Jun 29, 2009 18:24:54 GMT -5
Hetlan! Stop doing that!!! What'd you say? Oh, R&D... hmm... go, uh, make sure that the hyper-warp drives are ready for installation in the White Fleet.
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Post by Hetfiltrator on Jun 29, 2009 18:25:14 GMT -5
Not so fast Ymmot! *fires 6 demolisher shells into the squirrel containment core* hah now you have to get more squirrels
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 18:35:37 GMT -5
*Deflects with the magic of science.* Hah, now you have to get more squirrels.
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Post by Hetfiltrator on Jun 29, 2009 18:37:51 GMT -5
Damn! *runs off Returns with man-portable superlaser*
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Jun 29, 2009 18:40:50 GMT -5
Man... my R&D chief gets around the galaxy with the power of ADD... if only we could safely harness that for a stardrive...
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Post by Hetfiltrator on Jun 29, 2009 18:42:33 GMT -5
*thinks for a minute* So that's how I do it.
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Post by John_Galt (M.I.A) on Jun 29, 2009 20:09:28 GMT -5
The entire room shuddered as Ymmot's fortress began its bombardment. Derilict equipment began crashing violently all over the lab, forcing Galt to take cover. And just as quickly as it began...it ceased, submerging the lab into erie silence. "What is Ymmot doing up there?" Galt allowed himself to think aloud.
Then the scraping began again, but this time it was much closer.
A las-bolt burned past Galt, barely missing his head and singing his face. Reacting by instinct, Galt droped to a kneee and brought his shotgun up. Illuminated in the beam of his flashlight was a 2 foot wide maw of razor sharp teeth. The thing squeeled, and Galt fired, but it was unnaturally fast, hoping out of the way. Turning, Galt got a look at the thing. It was a bright orange squig, but this one was special.
There was a las-gun attached to its head.
What sick experiments had Ymmot been conducting down here? Galt assumed this is what had killed the scientists, and counting the number of broken vats he was not at all reasured that this was the only one. Before he could contiune to narrate this story, the squig turned and hoped right for his face...
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Jun 30, 2009 10:20:57 GMT -5
*Like the slowly fading echos of a symphony, the hum of the cloning device died away. I turned, my face a mask of exultation. The work of several weeks was coming to fruition! I grabbed a towel and waited. A crack that split the now silent air sent shivers down my spine - the front opened enough to let the fluids out of the vat. After a moment I heard a cough and the sound of my creation breathing air for the first time. As my chest started to swell with pride, the lid was struck and flew into the wall across from it, damaging both. I stepped forward with the towel.*
Do you know me?
*He took the towel. He was fair skinned, dark haired, and otherwise not far from average. Except the eyes. Those eyes... They spoke of an inner power. As if he could focus his anger through them and destroy that which he despised.*
"Yes. You are my Lord Minister."
Excellent. Get some armor, we need to hurry: ymmot has just lanced Holy Terra with the Squirrel Cannon.
*His eyes narrowed. I shuddered involuntarily. Magnificent! The Ministry is invincible now. After my creation donned his specially made power pants and a great coat, we set out for the Sol system.*
*Me, and my clone of Rolling Thunder.*
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Post by commissargaunt on Jun 30, 2009 10:30:42 GMT -5
Fine, Lord I have released the ultimate weapon against RT and his inferior clone. MWAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA Ministry of pants, Grammar gestapo! listen and fear me for I have successfully gained a favor from chuck norris. Destroy them utterly. *turns on teleporter, chuck norris appears* Look upon him and meet your doom Rolling Thunder!
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Post by Ymmot (M.I.A) on Jun 30, 2009 10:49:54 GMT -5
wait, What??
... Really?
-sighs- alright then, but doesn't this sort of thing conflict with his moral Christian values?
-rubs eyes- Oh well.
*glances up toward a near by monitor* Oh look, John Galt has found the den of the laser squigs, ah..do you know what this means..?
*speaks to himself out loud.* Yes! Yes, that's right... He has almost reached the lair of the Jabberwocky
Ooh...this could get messy.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Jun 30, 2009 11:08:42 GMT -5
(Some notes of Rolling Thunder:
Rolling Thunder is six feet five inches tall and weighs 108 kilos. Calling him 'average' is to ignore the fact that the average height for an adult male is 5' 10".)
With an irritable sigh, Rolling Thunder snapped his fingers. A near infinite distance apart, the latest of the long line of cloning attempts crumpled to the floor and died, it's heart simply pulped into so much soft flesh and blood.
"Damned Trouser-worshippers" he growled, as he strode through the corridors of Ymmot's ship. "Do they think themselves the first to try?" he muttered, a horrific fiend leaping from the shadows at him. "It is not as if the clones are even powerful." He mused, seizing the stinking beast-animal and hurling it against the unyielding adamant of a bulkhead. Even through his foul-tempered reverie, something inside him appreciated the musical drumbeat of it's oversize ribcage crumpling inward. "Strong, yes, but as if that matters. They have not my skill, not my power. Potential, yes, but hardly a weapon."
Emerging from the shadowed wasteland of his trance, he noted that the beast-creature's breathing has become shallow and ragged, the distinctive, rattling gurgle of blood filling it's lungs.
"You poor bastard" he murmured, even as he slowly unholstered his plasma pistol, his slender fingers running across the exquisite inlay of ivory, the delicate tracework of platinum cold on his skin even as he raised up the weapon.
"In the name of all things, I grant thee peace."
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Post by John_Galt (M.I.A) on Jun 30, 2009 12:03:32 GMT -5
With a terrible squeal the laser-squig clenched it's jaw shut and landed with a hop. It turned to see Galt running for the door, his middle finger extended in the air and a grenade ring spining gingerly around it.
The squig pursed its lower lip and wimpered ever so slightly just before it exploded. Chunks of xeno meat slapped wettly against the wall accompanied by the cacaphony of shattering glass.
Galt double timed back to the intersection and prayed he didn't run into any more of Ymmot's creations. Reaching the intersection, he noticed a map on the wall. The brass borders were worn and falling off, the glass case was long gone, and the paper was stained and yellowing, but it was still legible. A picture of the evil mastermind Ymmot declared "You are here," pointing his zapper-pistol to one of dozens of intersections. The map was literal maze of passages, hallways, chambers, and in some cases dead ends.
Finally, galt noticed a red rectangle denoting a "Cargo Elevator: To All Levels" He decided that was his ticket out of here, and he took a quick picture of the map section with his auspex. Before he left however, he noticed a small chamber not too far from the elevator, but it's label had peeled over. He could barely make it out:
"...a...r...ock..."
Perhaps it was an airlock? If so, he might be able to get a signal and call in rienforcements from he grammissariat or the ministry. He decided he'd stop there on the way, and doubled back to retrieve his cart.
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Post by commissargaunt on Jun 30, 2009 12:39:28 GMT -5
Chuck Norris is ten feet tall, weighs two-tons, breathes fire, and could eat a hammer and take a shotgun blast standing.
No. the only things chuck norris values are: 1.Pain 2.Your face... impaled on his shoe.
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Jun 30, 2009 13:33:23 GMT -5
Notes on the Ministry's primarch: A fusion of RT's DNA with some of mine, cybernetic secondary organs, and the genetic memory of every high lord of Terra's pants. He was trained while growing in the fine art of grooving. He has also had a splice from some 'fortunate' passer-by who 'volunteered' to make my primarch a blank. The Ministry doesn't use psykers, so it's not a problem. All of this in the mix makes him a bit average in appearance.
RT has only managed to pulp the heart of the 'test subject.' It was just an empty shell.
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Jun 30, 2009 13:56:56 GMT -5
I call your Chuck Norris gaunt, and raise you one Yarrick Commissar Yarrick, a proud supporter of the Ministry of Pants.
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Post by commissargaunt on Jun 30, 2009 14:02:25 GMT -5
Touche Envoy. I call your Yarrick and raise you the Abnettor and Inquisitor Eisenhorn both completely insane and therefore supporters of the pantless masses.
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