Community Story Project: Story Page

Talk about Battlefleet Gothic: Armada here!
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Owl
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Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Owl » 05 March 2016, 17:52

This thread chronicles the community directed adventures of the Firebrand and her crew, as well as a few other connected actors in the Gothic War including, but not limited to, the Ork Pirate Captain Nokk, Cylynys the Eldar Spirit-Seer and Ignacio Pharem. I cannot wait to see where this all leads :D .
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Re: Community Story Project: Discussion Page

Postby Owl » 05 March 2016, 17:53

As Commander Folt gazed out from the modest windows of his command bridge, he wandered not for the first time in his thirty-one years of life if he could see an end to the glowing expanse. As his gaze roved from each beckoning point of light to the next, he caught his reflection looking back at him. The man he saw was everything an imperial citizen expected from the captain of one of the Holy Emperor's vessels: a strong chin, coarse blonde hair cut so short that bangs were a far off dream, withering blue eyes, and a square set of shoulders. As he examined the respectable image he had groomed himself into, Folt could not help but break the facade with the same silly grin that he had made for every portrait since his induction into the Imperial Navy; for all his mentor's teachings about maintaining a respectable front, Folt always remembered what his Dad told him when he came home from his office at the Administratum: "Never take yourself too seriously, or you will miss all the enjoyment life has to offer. And it really does have a lot to offer."

As Folt turned from the now familiar, but nevertheless awe inspiring sight of the Galaxy, he all but jumped out of his boots when he ran headfirst into into his ships moral officer, Commisar Biltmore. Biltmore, far scrawnier than his name suggested, fell flat on his ass. With a brisk look up at his captain, the young and inexperienced officer picked himself up and dusted himself off, although his clothes were as spotless as ever. "Commander! I know my presence here isn't particularly convenient for you, but I don't think my teacher was being serious when she told you to give me a hard time." Folt could not help but chuckle,"Don't be too sure! Marsalla and I go way back, so if anybody knows what that woman thinks, its me." The junior officer looked like he was about to argue with him, but he quickly simmered down; a remarkable show of strength for such a hothead. He stood to attention and said, "Your Enginseer, Milla, sent me with a message from the Engine Room. The communication lines that were destroyed during the asteroid clearing "incident", is almost repaired."

The Commander ignored the pointedly bitter emphasis Biltmore placed on "incident," and thanked his lucky stars- Gorrah and Ammorah- that he would finally be able to run this ship without having to run the length of it every time he needed something done. Sure, his Sword class Firebrand was nowhere near the length of a ship-of-the-line, but the few minutes it took to communicate basic information and orders rendered his ship effectively useless in an engagement. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. My calves haven't been this sore since I did the "Long Run" in survival training. Is that all?" Commisar Biltmore thought for a second before answering, "Officially, no; but unofficially? Please do not think I am being foolish for asking this, but when are we going to see combat? Couplu's gunnery teams have been getting rowdy with nothing to shoot at, and the simple minded loading teams have become depressed without loading the guns they worship as the Emperor incarnate. Put simply sir, we need a good fire practice session to rally the crew from this... doll-drum."

Originally posted on 3 March 2016 by Owl.
Last edited by Owl on 06 March 2016, 00:33, edited 4 times in total.

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Re: Community Story Project: Discussion Page

Postby Owl » 05 March 2016, 17:54

Under-Deck News
Paper 72
Writer: Sirius Couplu

Weekly News:

The recent repairs were hard, but they are finally finished! Enginseer Mila took good care of our suits, so you give her a round of applause the next time you see her. It is because of her hard work that we only had one accident during the EVA's, but Giny survived and is doing fine under Medicae Sammy's care. During my recent chat with Commander Folt, Emperor protect him, I was told to spread the news that we will be leaving port soon for a series of firing drills. I'll be coming around for inspections two light cycles from now, and I expect to see the new cooling sheaths on the barrels of the macro-cannons and the targeting cogitators insulated in fresh coats of anti-magnetic paste. We need to grab this opportunity by the horns if we hope to ever regain the Captain'c confidence, so work like the Emperor himself is watching you.

Good News Section:

1. After several worrying months, Ibanah gave birth yesterday to a healthy baby boy! Ibanah and her husband Marlin are very happy, but we need some volunteers to pull overtime and cover Ibanah's shift so she can take care of the baby. If you would like to help, head over to my station to sign up.

2. News from the pipes have reached me, and it seems that the rumor of a twin-linked, short barrel lasgun with a variable stock, intended for boarding actions, was true. Quartermaster Wiln had Mila check the design for any obvious faults, and all she had to say was "Bless the Omnisiah for this Gift." I think that's the closest to a compliment I have ever heard from her, so I can not wait to drop by the armory and test out the new toy.

As always, paper is in limited supply, so please pass the leaflet on to your neighbor when your finished.

Originally posted on 3 March 2016 by Owl.
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Re: Community Story Project: Discussion Page

Postby Owl » 05 March 2016, 17:55

laser battery 4, ship time 6:00.

Gunnery Captain 2nd Class Kor Parzen sighed heavily as he surveyed the massive laser projector that was occupying most of the enormous room in front of him. This particular one was one of 4 main laser batteries that made the ship he served on so ubiquitous in the Gothic sector. Powerful enough to match even an orks blistering amount of fire power, yet quick enough to catch the opportunistic pirate scum that plagued the entire blessed imperium. Also they required only basic engineering skills which meant that adepts rather then tech priests could service them, making the drain on skilled labor much less for the Firebrand then the equivalent armament on a cruiser.

However Kor's problem didn't lie with the lack of tech priests to fix the damn battery, but with the shortage of the one resource that there shouldn't be a shortage of: manpower. Specifically, the shortage of penal slaves that rotated the gun and refocused the massive lenses that allowed for accurate targeting. The "incident," as people kept referring to it as had cost battery 4 dearly as the capacitor for the gun had over loaded and quite nearly caused the ship to be lost. On top of that most of the penal slaves that were bound to the weapon perished. The "incident" also led to Kor's promotion as his superior was executed for incompetence by commissar Biltmore. The penals are easy enough to replace for the Departmento Munitorum as whole worlds are penal colonies, but some adept had a bright idea and tried to save on fuel costs and now was making Kor's life very difficult.

"STOP.....STOP.....STOPSTOPSTOP" Kor shouted frantically, "When the light turns green it means stop moving." Kor stood talking to the monstrously sized ogryns in front of him. Instead of the 100 slaves he had ask for he was shipped 30 ogryns, which normally any Gunnery Captain would be happy to have, but there was no "bone head" as the orgyns called them, making Kors life hell. While 1 orgyn can do the labor of about 10 men in terms of strength by the fact that they are 3-4 times the size of man ( For reference they are about the same sizes as space marine centerions) they have one key flaw: a rock is smarter then them. Normally this is solved by having one of the ogryns under-go cybernetic enhancement to bring them to the level of a 5 year old, but the adept who assigned them obviously didn't know that they need one to be effective. So Kor was reduced to trying to get the damn orgyns to understand how the ship worked, which was difficult considering that they did not understand most of what he was saying.

Kor sighed again. Maybe he should go find one of the Chirosurgeons and a Tech preist to see if he could get them to jury rig a "Bone Head" for him. As he wondered this he started the exercise over again to try and get the ogryns to learn, how ever futile it was. As the exercise started again he wondered if they had shipped him orks it might have been more useful.


First attempt Hopefully you like it. While I am not trying to take over the story I am going to try and periodically add background and fluff, eventually I may take over the newspaper

Thanks

Originally posted on 4 March 2016 by Flyingrhinoman.
Last edited by Owl on 06 March 2016, 00:42, edited 2 times in total.

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Re: Community Story Project: Discussion Page

Postby Owl » 05 March 2016, 17:58

Death is different for every species. For the Mon'keigh, death is only a transition from the physical world to the Immaterium; the Tyranid's, for all their endless, soulless numbers, may eventually die, although the result of that is hitherto unknown; the "deathless" Necrons gave up their souls long ago in a short-sighted bargain for immortality, and as such it can be argued that they died long ago, with their corpses marching on in memory of the glories they lost. But we, the Eldar...

"Lautharal? Come back. Lautharal?"

Whhoooooo is this seer, who stands in front of the spirit-stone I call home? Are you lost? Don't you know that it is rude to enter someones house without an invitation?

The frail shape of the Seer, wrapped in the ceremonial clothes of his office, looked like he was about to collapse from despair and exhaustion. But with a calm, confident voice he said, "I'm your brother Lautharal. Do you remember, on the day I was born, when you named me Celynys? You always told me you had never been happier, and that you would never forget the moment for as long as you lived."

Oh. Hmmm. That is right! Look at you, all grown up! Haha, little Celynys has finally become a warlock, just like I said he would. I am so proud of you...

Celynys waited there in the glimmering darkness of the Ghost Ship's wraith core for some time, waiting to see if his brother could muster up the strength for another moment of lucidity. With a weary sigh the spirit-seer, the only living crewmember on the entire ship, stood up and left through the open portal opposite of the shimmering Nexus that his brother's stone was buried in. The portal closed behind him, leaving no suggestion that only moments ago there had been a door there. The Eldar walked through the gracefully arched, pearly corridors of his ship on the way to the bridge, noting with satisfaction the flickers of light that darted to-and-fro as the spirits of those who inhabited the vessel flashed from one vital system to the other; seeing his charges working in harmony filled Celynys with pride. But with every step his mind returned to thoughts on his current situation.

The Hellebore Frigate Phantom Sight was in low orbit of the Maiden world Om Tiraleth, and Celynys looked down on its radiant blue form as the system's red giant reflected off the sapphire forests that blanketed the world's temperate regions. The colony was new by Eldar standards, having only been founded two centuries ago, but it hosted a large population. Although fourty-four thousand seemed measly in comparison to the teeming hives of the Mon'keigh, it was a vast congregation for the pirate nation known as the Executioners. Made up of Outcasts, each of them had once belonged to a craftworld, but had left to escape the suffocating Path System that dominated Eldar society. Lautharal had never liked the oppresive expectations their society leveled against against him and often talked about leaving with the confidence only big brothers possess. Although Celynys had protested the idea at first, the idea of a life without so much restrictions grew less terrifying over time, and one day the band of brothers announced their intention to leave to their family. It went well, all things considered. But things had fallen apart almost as soon as the two had set off.

Now only Celynys was left to protect his brother and the denizens of Om Tiraleth. Worse still, a Mechanicus Explorator Cruiser, obviously fleeing from a recent confrontation if the battle damage that scarred it hull was any indication. Without any escorts, landing the killing blow would be relatively quick given the torpedoes banks aboard the Phantom Flight; however, it was not yet necessary to perform such a risky action. It was common practice for Eldar colonies and ships to hide behind the cover of their Holofields rather than attack when an Imperial patrol swept through their system, as the complete annihilation of the enemy would only bring on the investigation of other imperial ships, and with their destruction the cycle would continue until the the colony's luck finally ran out. The last thing the Eldar wanted was to wake the sleeping Giant that is the Imperium of Man. If the wounded ship simply limped out of the system and went on its merry way, Om Tiraleth and the people who called her home would be safe.

Just as Celynys was about to withdraw his mind from the sensors of his ship, a faint whisper from the spirit Kayas put the seer on edge. Kayas was a veteran of centuries of warfare, and his trained instincts, although dulled by his incorporality, saw what the young seer could not. As Cylynys watched with growing alarm, a battle fleet of ships twisted by the warping nature of the Great Enemy emerged from blood-red tears in reality, no less than a hundred kilometers from the wounded Cruiser. For what it was worth, the crewmen aboard the Imperial vessel opened fire immediately, their crippled broadsides and sporadic lance shots a testament to the will of the Mon'keigh to face their greatest foe without a shred of hesitation.

The Chaos fleet did not even bother firing back.

Eventually a Styx carrier broke off from its hundred strong host and closed in. With cruel efficiency the crimson ship's ruby-red lances reached out across the few kilometers that separated the floating cathedrals of disparate gods and destroyed the cruiser's few surviving weapons. Celynys cursed his ships sensors, as he could not squeeze anymore resolution out of them to see what happened more clearly. Although the light that reached him was hours old, it made the Eldar man feel just a bit more secure to see what was happening. He thought he could make out swarms of boarding craft covering the disabled ship like carrion birds, their occupants eager to get at the prey within the adamantium hull. In a few hours, the frantic psychic distress signal from the psykers aboard the Imperial ship suddenly stopped hammering Celyny's mind, and the Chaos war party departed the system. But not before adorning the hull of the wrecked vessel with the mangled remains of what had once been its crew,

The seer wiped off the sweat from his brow, and took his shaking hand off the shuriken pistol at his hip. He had never seen such a large Chaos force in his life, and the scale of it made it clear that something was beginning in his region of space that he did not dare to comprehend.

The Great Enemy has come to our sector. May Isha guard us, for the wrath of the dark gods is surely upon us.

Originally posted on 4 March 2016 by Owl. And following advice from a certain forum member, the maiden world's name has been changed from "Oman" to "Om Tiraleth"
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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Owl » 05 March 2016, 22:40

Sirius Couplu, 1'st Gunnery Officer of the Firebrand, scrutinized the fuzzy, black-and-white hologram in front of him as the clamor of his support staff roared behind him. The hologram depicted the ship graveyard of the Portmouth system, located halfway between the center of the Gothic sector and the Eye of Terror. He adjusted worn, cast metal knobs with his left hand, and the image finally lept into focus. "Poor projector is starting to show its age. Gotta remember to ask UNK13 to take a look at it when this test is over," he said to no one in particular. He took a few trained looks at the targeting readouts and thumbed the vox bead that gave him a direct link to his targeting crews, "All crews, report status." In perfect sequence, the indicators for Macro Cannons 1 through 8 changed from a burnt orange to a bright green. "So far so good," he mumbled under his breath. "I have target orders. Macro's 1 and 2 are to engage the the larger pieces of debris tagged as Alphas, while 3 and 4 use their accurate laser fire to neutralize the smaller wrecks tagged as Epsilons." He took a quick breath, "you are free to fire."

As Sirius thumbed the channel off, Techpriest UNK13 surprised him by nudging him in the side as he walked up to the display. The uncharacteristic show of comradery, which the techpriest had always avoided like the plague, was a testament to how much stress everyone had been under recently. With his face completely obscured by implants and wires, and a body augmented to the point of stooping under its own weight, the mechanical-man was an outsider to the crew's social circles. But Couplu knew him well enough to know that like most of the men under his command, UNK13 had gone into a minor depression -if that was possible for someone who had more metal than brains inside his skull- when the guns he had dedicated his life to were taken out of commission as a result of that unfortunate "accident." Now that everything was back to normal, the spring in the old man's steps seemed to have returned, both literally and figuratively as he had finally found a replacement part for his rusty ankle. The maroon combat lights in the 30 meter high dome of the targeting complex dimmed, a good indication that power was being diverted to the capacitor banks that peppered the ship's hull.

In the far away of Chamber Macro Cannon 2, the nine story, pipe and gear ridden complex of the Macro Cannon towered over the teams of laborers that filled the vast chamber. Work gangs lifted a cylinder, seven meters long and five meters wide, through an odd mix of winches and man power till it was twenty meters in the air; once there, a second team of workers on an elevated platform pushed it into the loading mechanism of the grossly over-sized weapon. Once it was snugly fit in its shining metallic cradle, the ministrations of a techpriest situated in a high gondola began the arcane process of carefully building up the gravito-magnetic field that sheathed the cannon's firing chamber. The monstrous machine began to hum a steady bass note through the warm, steam laden air, and the loading crews began to whoop and holler; even the techpriest began tapping his foot in anticipation!

"Listen up you deck-heads because UNK13 and I have some bad news for you." Sirius waited for the groans on the line to die down before dropping the other shoe, "In this simulated battle, the enemy managed to score a direct hit on the cogitator housing, so you have to aim your guns manually. Good luck with that." He cut the channel, and waited suspenseful for the first shot.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Damn-it Gutwyn!" Hardshock shouted. "You are aiming straight at the target again! You must lead your target or you will never come close to hitting it!
In space your shot won't stop! It will keep going for centuries until it hits something, whether it be a planet or a ship!"
Now get your stuff together and shoot the bloody target!"
"Why are we shooting manually? We have cogitators for that!" came from the young aspirant-gunner.
"You heard the the First Officer! That technology can be disabled! You must be effective even without it. Now get shooting!"
In the meantime the loaders down below finished loading the projectile into the breach.
Maybe he was a bit hard on the boy, but he had to whip him into shape before the next battle.
Over the past weeks the lad had made good progress, but in the Emperor's Navy there was no such thing as good enough, or at least that was how Hardshock saw it.

"Gunner Ready!" he sounded. "Fire!".
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A bone shaking vibration from the Macro-cannon filled the room as its components edged the solid ceramite cylinder into the gravito-magnetic chamber,where it was violently accelerating to tens of times faster than the speed of sound. It erupted from the barrel of the weapon and screamed soundlessly through space, tearing the old wreck of an ork warship in half through the application of cataclysmic force. To add insult to injury, the Firebrand's massive lasers super-heated the tumbling halves in staccato flashes of light, the energy pulses carried on the laser beams leaving only an ever expanding cloud of gas in there wake.

Commander Folt allowed the "hoorahs" to stop before addressing his crew over the shipwide intercom, "Fantastic work everyone, we just saved the Imperium from having to go to all the trouble pushing that piece of trash into the sun. Now how about we try a moving target this time?"

Let me tell you guys, the technical details are the most difficult part to write about. Thankfully, I had people like Ghostrider93 submit some pieces for this post. The paragraph, starting at "Damn-it Gutwyn," and ending at "Fire!" was all his work- with a few minor modifications. So thanks to everyone for the help, and as always feel free to review and send in suggestions. And another thank you to Imperator5 for giving me help on how the technology works and tips on Imperial names.
Last edited by Owl on 07 March 2016, 22:31, edited 3 times in total.

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby AdzyW » 06 March 2016, 17:05

(Cross Post from the Orky story Project. All further updates to the Kaptin's story will be posted here at Owl's behest.
Expect chapter two later on today.
and now without further ado...)

The room had been proud once.
Its ornate vaulted ceiling had sheltered thousands of years and hundreds of generations of captains. The gargoyles and cherubs above its bed, looking fondly down on the guardians of its legacy, their flecked gold leaf adding an austere character.
The ancient melodium, one of the last vestiges of this grand and beautiful lineage began to fill the space with soft lilting viola music.
Then it exploded.

The Kaptin dropped his smoking slugga back onto the bed.
"Shaddap."
He picked his head up off of the drool encrusted sheets, knocking several empty grog bottles to the floor with a clatter. With a massive three and two half fingered hand he wiped the slobber off of his chin and scratched at the wiry hairs underneath.
Hefting his bulk off of the protesting ironwood frame, he let out a belch followed by a half grunted word.
"Spug!"

The sound of hurried footsteps drove a nervous looking Gretchin into veiw.
"Umm, y-yes Boss?"
His small watery eyes followed the towering frame of his master, wincing at sounds like stone splitting as he cracked his back.

"Get Rodds on the blowa,"

"O-of course Boss!"

The Kaptin threw his tattered coat around his shoulders. The old thing was his pride and joy, stapled together from three smaller coats he'd found when he first took over Da Bigfoot. The thing had seen better days, though as clothing goes, it could hardly have seen worse.
Groping with a grubby hand, he found his hat under the bed and forced it down over his sweaty head.
He took a moment to look in the cracked mirror, scratching at the protruding belly under his shirt.
Evidently he deemed the look regal and dominating enough before plodding out.

"Kaptin on Da Bridge!"

The announcement wasn't really needed, the crew had already been made aware of his presence by the characteristic smack of the Kaptin's forehead on the doorway he always seemed to forget to duck for. Followed by the customary flurry of swearing.
He reached over and yanked the vox to his mouth, clearing his throat and waiting for the feedback to stop.
"Oi! Dis is yer Kaptin speakin' so lissen up! We's almost at da big rukk in da Goffik sektor, so I want all youz lot reddy! Load da kannons! Charge da Zzap Gunz! Kleer out da Tor-peedo Toobs! Any Boy caught mukkin about will walk da plank! Now get back ta work ya squigs!"

A wan electronic chime buzzed in at the command throne. Taking his seat, the Kaptin punched the button.
"Dat you Rodds?"

The Mekboy's grumbling tone cut through the static on the vox-link.
"I'm 'ere Nokk, Waddya want?"

He growled.
"Dat's Kaptin Nekkbeerd to you Rodds!"

There was a snort,
"I've known ya since you was a runty yoof Nokk, I'll call ya wot I want."

The Kaptin's cavernous nostrils flared, Rodds was getting too big for his britches. If he wasn't such a good Mekboy he'd have fed him into his own engines long ago. He made do with punting a passing Grot into the command pit, then changed the subject.
"Ow's da projekt comin'?"

There was a sinister chuckle.
"Oh, it's comin' Just got a couple more improvements to make. We'z gonna need some more paint tho."

"Send some boyz down to the Squig pens for some squeezin's then. I'll meet you in da Hanga drektly."

"Right."
The vox link cut off. The Kaptin rubbed his hands together with glee. It had been his best idea yet. He couldn't wait to see it in action.
The Original "Kaptin Nekkbeerd"
Wot yu meen yu've not 'erd a me! I's Famous I is!

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby AdzyW » 06 March 2016, 18:07

"You migh' 'ave ta run dat by me once more Rodds."
The Kaptin scratched his chin, looking down at 'Da Projekt'

Rodds put a hand to his forehead. Yelling over the din of the hangar bay.
"It's basik stuff Nokk,"

"Kaptin." Nokk growled.

Rodds dodged the halfhearted punch without breaking stride. Walking beneath the shadow of a precariously hanging tor-peedo
"So red makes fings fasta innit? Cuz rokkit trails is red and dat's why dey go fast."

"Yeh yeh, I get dat. But dere not red are dey?"

"Look, lemme finish."
Rodds used his power klaw to shove a toolcart out of the way. It upended, throwing odd sized wrenches and a single rudely awakened Snotling in all directions.
"Blue, dat's lucky see. Cuz lightnin's blue an' it neva misses metal stuffs. Yeller is ded shiny and da shiny gunz always cost more teef and spensiv stuff is always betta."

"Rodds! I's not dat fick! I lerned dat stuff as a yoof!"
The Kaptin ducked under the doorway, following his Mekboy into his office. He stepped over the pile of torn up soundproofing.
"But ya dint paint 'em red, blue, yeller or even green! So why are all firty of my new Stelf Bomma's ZOGGIN PURPLE!"
He left a dent in the wall for emphasis, it got lost amongst the previous ones.

Rodds grinned knowingly, a glint in his eyes.
"Tell me, 'Kaptin'...."
He put his feet up on his desk. A looking smug at his own genius.
"Didja ever see a purple Ork?"

The Kaptin blinked slowly.
"Rodds...?"

"Yes?"

"Dat's bloody brillyant!"
The Original "Kaptin Nekkbeerd"
Wot yu meen yu've not 'erd a me! I's Famous I is!

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby AdzyW » 06 March 2016, 23:09

"Awright, reddy Boyz?"
The massive Skarboy, rotated his shoulder, ready to ram the barricaded door.

Rodds slammed a fresh box of bullets into his snazzgun, racking all three barrels.
"As I'll ever be, 'ow 'bout you Nokk?"

The third Nob nodded. Giving his notched and battered choppa a couple of quick swings.
"Reddy Boss, outta stikkbomz tho."

"Das alright, jus da free of em left. Da Kaptin an' is two bodyguards."
He started his run up.
"ERE WE GO! WAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!"

The door splintered into matchwood as the Skarboy's momentum carried him through.
"JOBS A GOO-"
One of the human's had had his shotgun ready, blowing a ragged hole through the massive Ork's face.
The, now headless, body was still travelling too fast for the provost to dodge and there was a wet crunch as it landed on top of him.

Rodds held down the trigger at the greatcoated silhouette of the Rogue Trader as Nokk rushed the remaining human.

The crude choppa slammed into the man's riot shield and stuck there, leaving Nokk defenceless as he riposted, swinging a crackling power maul at his face. He dodged just in time to only lose a couple of teeth, one of the spikes catching across his gob.
The maul stuck in the panelling by Nokk's head. Before the provost could pull it out, a green fist caught him in the chest, throwing him backwards in an arc of blood, the shattered handle of the mace clutched in a death grip

The Trader's conversion field rippled, the bullets harmlessly disintegrating in flashes of blue light as he stepped toward Rodds, power sword crackling to life.
Rodds had just enough time to register the empty click before the weapon scythed through muscle, bone and sinew; sending his gun arm flying through the air.
"Gaahhhh! Nokk, look out! He's got a- hooooooffffffff"
A snapped kick to the prone Boy's chin sent him sprawling in a shower of teeth. The severe looking man in his bicorn hat and greatcoat fixed Nokk with a chilling gaze, raising his power sword and yelling a challenge.

Nokk remembered the crackling mace head behind him and grabbed for it. Whipping his arm around, he fastballed it straight at the man's face. It flickered to life as he did so, taking two of his fingers with it.

The conversion field exploded in a colossal flash as the massive surge of power overloaded it.
Nokk opened his eyes and blinked the stars out of his vision, stalking his way over to the prone figure. Stomping his foot down on the man's hand as it reached for the power sword.
"Well wudja lookit that." He chuckled, picking up the bicorner hat and placing it on his head, a couple of seams popping.
"I'm the Kaptin now!"

++++++++++++++++++++

"Kaptin?"
A thin reedy voice snapped him from his reverie.

"Uh? Wuzzat?"
He sat up in the command throne. Glancing around to look for the voice.

"Down here Kaptin."

He glanced down to see his Grotservant.
"Oh it's you. Waddya want Spug?"

"Gobsmasha's asking for you sir. Says he needs you at The Maw"

The Kaptin groaned,
"Ugh, fine. Fetch me lug-plugs. I'll go meet 'im."
The Original "Kaptin Nekkbeerd"
Wot yu meen yu've not 'erd a me! I's Famous I is!

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Re: Community Story Project: Story Page

Postby Owl » 07 March 2016, 00:43

I decided to make a little comedic story that I think we can all relate to.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

What do you do when the Daemons bound to a Chaos ship start acting up? Call Tech Support?

After a few minutes on hold with an annoying slave secretary, Gruel was finally transferred to a representative, "Hello, this is Clarees with Dark Mechanicum Tech Support. How can I help you?"

Clarees? What an odd name. "Hi, my name is Gruel Maxinus of the Warmaster's ship Knife Party. I would like to report an issue with the daemon running one of our nutrient dispensers."

"What seems to be the issue?"

"Well, its supposed to dispense blood flavored toffee, the crew's favorite. Since last week all the toffee its given us has been completely bland. I need my blood fix woman."

"Well sir," she said in her nasally voice," has your warband payed for the extended warranty on your daemon binding?" Gruel's beady black eyes scanned the wrinkled paper in his hand. "No, it looks like we only bought the standard warranty package. We only just had it bound the first day of last month, so it should be okay right?"

The secretary's voice suddenly became extremely coy, "Hmmmm. Uh ohhhh, it looks like your warranty ran out three days ago. I'm soooo sorry sir, but I'm afraid my hands are tied."

Gruel's hands started to shake with rage. With barely controlled anger, he choked out through his clenched teeth, "You're getting off on this, aren't you?"

"Like you would not believe. By By!" and with a loud beep she hung up on him.

Gruel Maximus put the receiver for the com station down and turned to the pitiful slave shackled to the terminal, who was a this moment shrinking away from his fuming boss. Suddenly the muscle bound, tattoo covered officer grabbed the cowering worker by the scruff of his dirty jump suit. "If the boss needs me, tell him I'm taking a portal to the Eye of Terror to personally file a "complaint report" with the Dark Mechanicum.

With that, Gruel Maximus the Wrathful walked away from his post, and into the anolls of legend.


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