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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Jul 7, 2011 18:21:38 GMT -5
Get in an extra little shot for me, Walrus. I don't like it when those doppelgangers show up to attack my name.
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Post by Laughing Man on Jul 7, 2011 18:29:30 GMT -5
*Sends a direct IR line of sight data packet to a transmitter containing some very controversial and embarrassing pictures of Ministry members whilst they were pantsless.*
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Post by Kaikelx on Jul 7, 2011 21:11:36 GMT -5
And remember: Commissar is watching you, wherever in this dark galaxy he may be" he said, closing his eyes in memory of that old, ever-cheerful veteran whom the cold grasp of the Galaxy had plucked from them. *cough* Right. It was entirely the Galaxy's fault. I had nothing to do with it whatsoever.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 10, 2013 14:51:46 GMT -5
*Crashes, broken-winged, through the ceiling and to the floor of the temple, hitting the ground with an unpleasant "crunch" of bone, armour and flesh.*
"Bugger."
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 12, 2013 11:52:25 GMT -5
Well, look what the gods have wrought.
ymmoT seems to have disappeared with his machine. Other people around seem to have perished at the hands of the suddenly-filled-with-personality-and-not-alien-at-all Necrons. I still hunger for the satisfaction of draping this world in the curtains of fire from orbit. Who's with me?
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Sept 12, 2013 12:48:45 GMT -5
Well, look what the gods have wrought. ymmoT seems to have disappeared with his machine. Other people around seem to have perished at the hands of the suddenly-filled-with-personality-and-not-alien-at-all Necrons. I still hunger for the satisfaction of draping this world in the curtains of fire from orbit. Who's with me? Technically wouldn't you be draping it in drapes of fire?
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 12, 2013 14:38:46 GMT -5
*Raises a hand from the crumpled heap of wings and limbs* I second this motion. Perhaps if we kill enough of them, they'll go back to being soulless automata. Waiiit... Alright, I shall suspend all requirements for joining the Empire of One(aka The Army Of Ymmot) you no longer have to send me buckets of teeth and bags of human hair in order to be considered a potential applicant... fair warning...the road ahead will be difficult and fraught with opposition, I do not expect most of you to survive, and in fact it is very likely that I may command many of you to die, but do not fret for your souls will be put to good use in the afterlife...enslaved inside one of the metal carcasses of my machines. Now go forward and spread the good word to the masses! BLAST OFF TO ADVENTURE! ...Necrons have personalities... ...Ymmot has disappeared... *Looks vaguely horrified.* GAAAAAAAALLLT! Whisky! *Realizing he no longer had subordinates to fetch him alcohol, RT became considerably more horrified, collapsing back into a heap of mangled wings and sobriety.*
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 12, 2013 16:29:40 GMT -5
Feel free to stop by the Cube for a quick snort of something if you have some time between the crying and the collapsing.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 13, 2013 11:13:46 GMT -5
It is acceptably manly to weep for the loss of Lord Commander Solar Macharius.
*Leans on Requiem to help himself up, wings dissipating into shadowy nothing.*
Alright old chap. Let's go have a Scotch, and I'll tell you my theory.
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 13, 2013 12:17:39 GMT -5
*Sets up lawn chairs on the edge of the battlefield and pours two glasses of scotch.*
A theory? How vague. Do enlighten me.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 13, 2013 14:31:40 GMT -5
*Takes rest in the lawn chair, gratefully accepting the glass of whisky.*
Why thank you Lord Requiem; you are kind.
It is, of course, merely a theory; I have no evidence. But I am sure Ymmot's disappearance is linked with the emergence of such abomination as "souls", "personality" and "individuality" in the Necrontyr. As we know, Ymmot is the undisputed master of all things skinless, horrifying and beyond the means of human comprehension; a leader amongst the Druchii and Eldar as a whole, able to control Tyranids at will, and, as we have seen, perfectly capable of manipulating the soulless automata that are the Necrontyr. He walks in the heavens, speaks with gods, and consumed the brains of Walt Disney. His father was Matt Groening and his mother was Isha. And yet Galatea disappeared. And, after this, so does he. And immediately after this - Lo! The Necrons develop personalities. They ally with Blood Angels. Tyranids gain special characters. Matt Ward gains suzerainty over Games Workshop.
I postulate, *He pauses, taking a deep drink of the malt*, that these events are linked, somehow.
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 13, 2013 17:00:29 GMT -5
It's quite unlikely, but it's a silly theory, so let's roll with it.
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Post by cheminhaler on Sept 13, 2013 17:21:46 GMT -5
*In another dimension, another reality, somewhere near the Forbidden Zone, Worker #1180611-02/3a finishes wiring another 'Happy chip' into a previously mindless necron automata; one of millions on a conveyor belt, in a specially designed, mobile Necron Happy Factory.*
*Looks worriedly at the Ymmot Industries User Manual.*
The wiring is wrong! These necrons are narcissistic!
*Watches as the latest batch of necron warriors look at their own reflections on the metal walls*
Overseer Trooper. You need to vox the High Over Boss.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 15, 2013 8:36:50 GMT -5
Hurrah for unsound logic! Well, it's not as if we have much better to do *He says, as a landing craft swoops in to their location.* Or we could always go punch out FailBaddon the Despoiler. I hear he got a new codex and everything.
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 15, 2013 21:43:37 GMT -5
Three huzzahs for unlogic.
*Sips stolen Tomatin.*
Very well, to whom shall we give our unlimited fury? And our unlimited furry? We don't have one?! I nominate Galt to be our honorary furry. Who gets him?
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 16, 2013 7:52:04 GMT -5
I say, my dear Requiem; let us begin our hunt for Matthew Ward. He is truly behind all of this.
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 16, 2013 11:43:57 GMT -5
I foresee this getting ugly. Or at least, dat mustache.
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Post by cheminhaler on Sept 16, 2013 13:52:24 GMT -5
Mat Ward's brain had been wired into the gigantic tractor factory over 200 standard Terran years ago, mused Worker #1180611-02/3a, as he cleaned the brain-case's perspex compartment, with a feather duster. The legend went that after Ward had united the codexes, he was attacked by twenty Guildmasters of the Fluff Washers Guild and was eventually defeated after slaying all but one of his attackers. In the days that followed his victory the final Fluff Washer Guildmaster was overcome by rage at the futility of his actions and he promptly polymorphed into Ward's brain... which was then found by Ymmot and installed into the gigantic Necron mobile factory. The brain itself actually controlled the entire construction facility, both driving the vehicle and overseeing construction of happy, sad, melancholy, flatulent and slightly peeved Necrons, loading them into transport rockets and shooting them off into random parts of the Universe.
Worker #1180611-02/3a watched in awe as Overseer Trooper worked at the console of his workstation, assigning target priorities to the latest batch of flatulent and happy Necrons, after they had been loaded into their transport rockets. With an ear-splitting sonic boom 10 rockets fired, shaking the entire platform, as Necron warrior transport rockets sought out their final destinations...
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 18, 2013 17:15:20 GMT -5
"That moustache, was always ugly" opined RT, stepping aboard the Vargur-class landing craft he had repurposed from the long-dead Romulan Empire. "Do come aboard, dear Requiem. This should be fun, if nothing else."
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 18, 2013 17:16:44 GMT -5
*Ressurects the Tal Shiar.*
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 18, 2013 18:52:51 GMT -5
Suddenly finding his much-repurposed landing craft full of Romulan Secret Police, Thunder responded to the sudden change in situation in the only manner reasonable, seizing Requiem and using him as a human shield.
"Damn you all!" he snarled, as the old, too-familiar bloodlust tainted his throat, actinic wroth slow-coating his tongue; incandescent, nova-white venom burning on the edges of his words. The monster was back, tired, broken-winged and cast in the dust. But it had returned.
"Damn you all" he whispered again, as the first Romulan rounded the corner.
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 18, 2013 19:27:51 GMT -5
There's the RT we know and love! Now, let's take our re-minted intelligence agency, and cast them out to find the Wardians. Once we know their locations, we can bring the full force of our battlefleets to bear. Bear? Walrus... hmmm. We won't be able to win this without Galt and Leeroy's help. The best we'll be able to manage is a bloody stalemate.
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 20, 2013 13:19:00 GMT -5
"Damn you for a Frenchman sir" snarls Thunder, releasing Req while simultaneously eyeing the pretty Romulan in a fashion both aggressive and amorous. "Arrange it to be so. And tell these lot not to betray me. I have been betrayed by experts, including Kharn the betrayer, whom, as the name suggests, is fornicateing good at it. OBEY, Vulcan-descended Xenos, unless you wish your kind to be enslaved and cross-bred with the Loxaltl. And bring me ale!"
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Post by ElegaicRequiem on Sept 20, 2013 19:11:16 GMT -5
Belgian, Thunder, Belgian. Have some soothing music and a nice drink to calm the nerves.
*The Romulans disperse on their way to find the source of Wardian nonsense. Meanwhile, I do my best to resurrect the Obsidian Order. Because if you're going to have a fish/lizard-man police state, you may as well go for one with character.*
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Post by Rolling Thunder on Sept 21, 2013 5:24:43 GMT -5
Indeed sirrah, indeed *mutters darkly, accepting a drink of Romulan Ale and finding his way back to his comfortable seat, namely, the bridge chair.*
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