Autarch Draknor raised his gaze to the group of jittery Warp Spider Aspect Warriors. They gathered here all the time, hug themselves and occasionally screaming incoherently at any passer by, around here where their former Exarch stayed. When one says former Exarch, it is often thought 'tomb,' as one does not retire from being an Exarch, that is their point. But ever since she and her entire contingent of Warp Spider got stuck in the warp for a whole year, thought to be lost only to reappear in the middle of the Craftworld screaming insanely, she was no longer fit for duty as an Exarch. She apparently made a better Farseer.

Draknor picked his way across the crowd of half-mad Warp Spiders. Occasionally, one would make a Jump from one spot to another for no apparent reason. Draknor was well used to stopping and picking a different route when one of them Jumped in front of him. Once past the crazed Aspect Warrior, he entered the domain of Farseer Gismel.

"Draknor, dear!"

What came at him was unmistakably an Eldar Farseer. However, it is said the last thing thing the enemies of Craftworld Tharldin see is the visage of a lightning spewing figure clad in Mesh Armor under a floral print pink dress and a floppy staw hat..

"Farseer Gismel," Draknor bowed lightly.

"Draknor, do come in! Elswich just dropped by for some tea," She gave a suggestive wink at that and Draknor ignored it. Gismel had it in her crazed little head that he and Warlock Elswich would make an excellent couple even though no one knew what gender Elswich was (Although this isn't problem for many Eldar.). Besides, Elswich 'dropped by' every day. Due to the frazzled mental state of the Farseer, she could not be counted on to relay any important visions to the necessary authorities, thus Elswich was assigned to listen to her mad prattling all day long in case she spewed anything important.

Warlock Elswich could be found in what constituted as Gismel's lounge. She (As can be estimated) was chugging down a pint of Gismel's tea (Gismel's special home brew tea was in fact only partly tea and mostly alcohol. Elswich loved it.) like an Exodite bar wench. Draknor saw that the pint looked like a very tall tea cup, possibly hand crafted by Gismel for the express purpose of satiating Elswich's thirst.

Draknor sat across from Elswich, accepting a small tea cup from Gismel. He scowled at the Warlock, she smirked wildly in return which only made him scowl harder, "Why did you call me here?"

"I think I'd better let Gissy tell you," Elswich leered.

Gissy. Only Elswich could get away with that.

Gismel came back in with plate laddened with small cakes. Draknor internally seethed. This was important, possibly for the entire Craftworld's survival, and these two wanted to have a drunken TEA PARTY!

"Farseer Gismel," Draknor knew he had to get right to the point, "I have heard you've been telling Elswich of an interesting vision and I wish to hear of it as well."

Gismel blushed and fanned herself, "Oh, its just some silly little warp-induced daydream."

Draknor vowed to murder Elswich (Perferably the way she was born (Naked and screaming.).) before pressing on, "No, do go on."

"Well, it was about those naughty boys we sometimes see," Gismel whispered conspirationally, as if afraid of anyone hearing her call someone anything as heinousas 'naughty.' Obviously, this told him next to nothing as 'those naughty boys' can range from anything to Chaos Space Marines or the childlings who threw eggs at her Warp Spiders (Who no longer did so either. Even in their maddened state, they didn't care to put up with that indignity. So they dressed up as Dark Eldar, Jumped into the offending childlings' rooms and woke them up whooping and screaming like Howling Banshees. The childlings could not sleep for nine years, huddling and crying "Can't sleep, Warp Spiders will eat me, can't sleep, Warp Spiders will eat me...").

In fact, 'Naught Boys' could only mean one of those two. Considering the circumstances, propably the former. Chaos Space Marines, Traitor Gaurdsman, Dark Cultists, mon-keigh who threw their lot in with the Ruinous Powers, including She Who Thirsts, "What about them, Farseer Gismel?"

"Oh, they are going to find themselves a Blackstone Fortress."

Draknor choked on his tea, spillingi it's contents. A good thing or he would be draining it dry in a few moments.

"A Bla-bla-black-"

"Oh, and everyone will start getting involved after that, including us."

Draknor gritted his teeth, "Who else?"

Gismel listed them, "Those plucky lads and rowdy boys-"

Imperial Gaurd and Orks.

"-those good little boys and those hungry buggies-"

Tau and Tyranids.

"-the local boy scouts and girl scouts-"

Space Marines and Sistes of Battle.

"-our distant cousins and those creepy old men-"

Dark Eldar and Necrons.

"-and someone else I don't know who."

Draknor found himself pulling out a notebook to write this all down. So that's everyone and then some, eh? Oh JOY. Well, at least the Imperial Gaurd and the Sisters of Battle would be their. Maybe he can finally get his hands on some nice, thick, muscular, big hipped mon-keigh women. He didn't speak often of it, but he thought Eldar women were too skinny. Maybe he could grab one of his own. He really should ask Taldeer of Ulthwe how she bagger her own. Just the thoughts of being held down my one of those hugle beastly wom-

"Draknor. Drraaaaknnooooor," Elswich smacked the Autarch, "Draknor!"

"Hm? Oh yes! Warlock Elswich, go alert the forces.to ready! W'ere going to..." He looked to Gismel.

"Talavan VII."

"Yes."

Elswich shrugged and left, leaving him and Gismel, "Tell me, Farseer, which of the Chaos Legions or Warbands shall we be facing?"

"Five of the legions."

Wonderful, "Which ones?"

"The World Eaters, the Death Gaurd and the Night Lords lead by the Thousand Sons."

"That's four. What of the fifth?"

"Oh yes. The Emperor's Children."

Draknor's blood ran cold. Out of all the Chaos Legions, it had to be those who venerated She Who Thirsts above all others.

"And the Astartes?"

"The Awesome Marines-"

Draknor smirked. They weren't too hard to deal with. Throw a red ball and watch them chase it while the attached Commisar try to shoot them in the right direction again.

"-the Pretty Marines-"

For some odd reason, many Eldar felt an odd kinship to this chapter. Maby this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"-the Reasonable Marines-"

By the Laughing God, yes! Perhaps the Eldar and the Marines, and the Tau too, and Gaurds and Sister in tow, could join forces temporarily if the Reasonable Marines were there! This campaign may go without a sitch!

"-the Scary Marines-"

Draknor paled. Well, one minor complication.

"-and the Angry Marines."

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-"

Brother Calidius sighed. It was now that he realized the inherent design flaw of the Terminator Armor. He had heard of it before, of course. The 'Turtle Shell Effect' it was called. Basically, one cannot reach behind oneself in Terminator Armor. Therefore, one cannot lift oneself up if one were to find themselves flat on their backs. The counter-theory was that any fellow brother astartes or a group of loyal Imperial citizens would be honored to help a Veteran Marine back on his feet.

This theory hinged on their being any such things in the vicinity. Calidius was lying on his back in a dense unpopulated jungle and he did not believe any of his battle brothers survived the crash that consumed the four Thunderhawks, the other three belonging to three other chapters. Calidius debated with himself on the merits of calling for help. On one hand, some ally may have survive. On the other, some enemy may be around. On the third mutant hand to be purged within reason was that absolutley noone may be around.

Suddenly, a soft melodic voice snaked through the jungle air, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Calidius turned his head as much as the Terminator Armor would allow. What he saw boistered his spirits, if only a little. It was not one of his, as he had hoped, but a Pretty Marine. A Chaplain by the looks of the black armor. Usually you could tell by the skull helmet, but most Pretty Marines disdained covering their faces, especially with hideous skull helmets.

"Yes! Over here, Chaplain!" Calidius called out. The chaplain took his sweet old time turning his head to Calidius. First he swished his head the other way, cascading his long white hair unique to Pretty Marine Chaplains and Sisters of Battle, and then the other, settling his big brilliant blue eyes on Calidius. Then his eyes widened as he saw the predicament Callidius was in. A smirk splayed across his face and a snicker escaped his lips. He began giggling like a little girl, pointing at the fallen Terminator.

Calidius was reasonable about this, letting the chaplain laugh it up. Finally, the giggle subsided and the chaplain had the dignity to look embarassed, "I am sorry, Reasonable Marine. Allow me to help you." He held out one hand which Calidius took, "I am Chaplain-Brother Kishu of the Pretty Marine's 9th Company."

Calidius pulled himself up, "Veteran-Brother Calidius of the Reasonable Marine's 1st Company."

"Greetings, Veteran," Kishu smiled dazzlingly. Then he frowned. Well, pouted, "Any of your own survive?"

Calidius shook his head. Kishu sighed, "I believe the only other of mine that lived is a scout. Though, where he is I don't know."

"The Thunderhawks of the Awesome and Angry Marines flew farther then our own before crashing. Perhaps we can rendesvous with any survivors amongst them," Calidius suggested.

Kishu nodded.

~

"Appear weak when you are strong, appear strong when your are weak," Repeated Aspiring Sorcerer Melvun of the Chaos Reasonable Marines, looking at the one-way view window of the Secret Lair.

Biker Champion Feliosto of the Chaos Pretty Marines looked up from polishing his precious Speed Bike, decorated as it was in erotic motifs and innumerable spiky bits. "What was that?"

"I have fooled the Imperium into believing we are who we are not, fooled the Eldar Witch, and exaggerated are numbers so that would send a greater force against us," Melvun explained, "The presence of Kharn the Betrayer and Doomrider has only added credibility to this facade."

Feliosto frowned, "That... sounds like a horrible idea."

"On paper, aye." Feliosto cringed as the disgusting puss ridden form of short Nurglesgue being stepped out of the dark corners that breed abundantly in the Secret Lair. This was Lord Pusbeard Sludgehammer, leader of the League of Hella, the last surviving Squat Strongholds. They had fought against the Tyranids using biological weapons, but the diseases they created turned against them. If they had not turned to Papa Nurgle, they too would have died. Now they were carrion carriers of great many scientific and warp-spawned diseases, the superiors of even many Plague Marines in that regard.

"Aye," He repeated, "But we'd be having to deal with some trouble anyways. Now all dem morons will be busy fighting each other while we cozy on over to the Fortress."

Feliosto shrugged and returned to polishing his Speed Bike, dry humping it with his wax covered crotch, whispering how he was going to make sweet-sweet love to it. Pusbeard gawped at this and Melvun decided to spare him.

"I never knew a Nurglesgue could provide such insight," He chuckled.

Pusbeard returned with his own laught, though this one was humorless and empty, "I didn't join up with Nurgle for the philosophy."

"Indeed," Melvun nodded, "Tell me, have you heard the reports from our cultist and Khornate allies?"

"Oh yeah. Them Chaos Angry Marines and Kharn are ripping shit right up. That Kharn, swell guy and all, I wish he'd stop bein' ah..."

"Team killing fucktard?" Feliosto supplied, a smoking cigarrete in his mouth and somehow satisfied looking Speed Bike laying on it side next to him. Melvun could swear it was GLOWING.

"Yeah, that's it," Pusbeard agreed, "Swell guy though."

"Of course," Agreed Melvun reasonably.

"Even when he'd be killing ya."

"Screaming 'TAKE THAT SLAANESHI WHORE,'" Feliosto added.

Pusbeard and Melvun looked at each other.

The Chaos Pretty Marine continued, "And I'd say 'DON'T TALK TO MY SPEED BIKE LIKE THAT, PUNK.' Good times."

He looked expectantly at Melvun and Pusbeard. Both had nothing to say to this display and Melvun diplomaticaly changed the subject, "So, was there any great resistance from the Tau defenders?"

"Er..." Pusbeard's mind needed time to carefully erase Feliosto's autoeroticism before catching up with Melvun, "Uh, no. Not really. Soon as we showed up, them blue-skins backed their shit up and left."

Melvun nodded in satisfaction, "Yes, that is indeed the way of the Tau. They will undoubtedly return in greater numbers soon."

~

"Shas'O Sa'cea Fap'tau," Greeted the female underling.

"Ya damn straight, I am," Fap'tau put both hand on his hips. The right hand encompassed the entire hip while it's smaller opposite did not. The underling looked nervously at the muscular right arm, trying difficultly to not think about how he got just that arm to so big.

"Er..." The underling shifted nervously, noticing how closely her commander was studying her body. She knew exactly what was going on in his head and did not like it, "Shas'El Ksi'm'yen Schl'ick'tau-"

"Are you seriously gonna say our whole name every time?"

"Er...."

"Whatever, what does that bitch want?"

"We've arrived at Tal'van, sir."

"Sweet."

~

In hindsight, the fact that the Awesome and the Angry Marines created such widespread destruction in their crash was strangely fitting. The two dropships crashed into a canyon wall and caused rock to fall on them. Everyone died.

Kitsu looked sadly at this, shaking his head at such an ugly death. Casidius on the other listened for survivors.

"I think we may have two survivors," The Reasonable Marine said.

Kitsu brightened, his beautiful features shining in joy, "Rock DON'T kill everyone!"

"Shh, listen."

And they did.

"Are we ought yet?" Came a childish voice beneath the rock.

"NO!" Shouted a gravelly voice.

"Are we out yet?"

"NO DUMBASS!!!"

"Are we out yet?"

"NNNNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-"

Suddenly, Casidius turned and tackled Kitsu to the ground.

"Hey-"

"-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The whole pile of rocks exploded in massive explosion of warp energy, pulverizing it into dust. From the out of the rubble came the form of an Angry Marine Librarian, his yellow and red armor drapped in the traditional white robes. Despite wearing a helmet, his visage achieved being visibly enraged. Crawling out behind him was the red armor form of a Tech Marine, one shoulder pad was orange with the yellow smiling symbol of the Awesome Marines and the other was white with a red helix of an Apothecary, crossed with a staff and scythe.

The knowledgeable Reasonable Marine knew the Awesome Marine combined the rank of Tech Marine and Apothecary into the cybernetic-happy Doctor. The Doctor was raised aloft the ground by a pair of thick tentacle-like servo-arms with two smallers one dancing around above him, sporting wicked looking meltaguns. In each of his hands were a staff and scythe, the symbol of his office, pried from the hands of Sorcerer Adepts and Plague Marines respectively, cleansed and reforged under the watchful gaze of the Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy and retooled for the express of healing without turning the patient into a cyborg.

The Awesome Marine wore no helmet since the giant ceramic hard afro, the signature mutation of his chapter, would not allow it. His face was covered in a surgeon's mask and both his eyes glowed red with cybernetic replacements, peering around. He then looked to his compatriot.

"Are we out yet?"

"GGGGAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!!" The Angry Librarian used the warp to lift himself into the air as if he wore a jump pack so that his hands could reach the Awesome Doctor's throat.

The Reasonable Terminator and Pretty Chaplain got up from the ground. Well, the Chaplain did and pulled the Terminator up. The stopped to watch the Angry Librarian choke the shit out of the Doctor while he gagged, "Ack! Gack! You're choking me!" As if it weren't obvious. They were pulled apart by the massive Terminator who thumped their head together a few time where even their helmets and ceramic hair did not save them from being dazed.

"Gentleman."

He laid them out on their back and waited for them to recover. The Awesome Doctor was the first, one of his servo-arms rubbing his head empathetically. The Angry Librarian was the second to awake. He seemed more to skulk now, pulling his psychic hood over his head to seeth internally. The Reasonable Terminator originally took him as otherwise unarmed but noticed the intricate patterns weaved into his armored gauntlets. It seemed that the Angry Marine's usual surprising mechanical aptitude has led them to create Force Fists. Smaller then Power Fists, but Calidius guessed undoubtedly as strong, or even stronger.

"Alright, it seems all four of us are the only survivors of this crash," Calidius the Reasonable Terminator told them, "I am Calidius of the Reasonable Marines and this is Kishu of the Pretty Marines."

The Angry Librarian looked up at this, settling his visor covered eyes on the the Pretty Chaplain. Kishu arched his brows and held that stare back, the pride of his chapter urging him not to backdown. But he knew that stare, he could see it through the visor of the Librarian's helmet. As much as the Chapter of the Rose tried to avoid it, Kishu had worked with the Angry Marines before. Obviously, the ones that vented their anger through loud stupid cursing got the most attention, but then their were the one that soak up rage like a sponge, keeping it within themselves until they were ready to squeeze it out in one mighty explosion.

Therefore, this one had propably expended all of his energy. Then Kishu wondered, Or had he?

"My name's Doctor Ziaphas of the Awesome Marine's... er, we don't have companies, sorry," The Awesome Doctor said.

The Angry Librarian grunted, "Malk." Then he added as an afterthought, "I was attached to the 2nd Company as of this campaign."

Then Malk saw them looking at him expectantly, "And what the fuck chapter do you think I'm from!? The goddamn Space Wolves!? I'm a fucking Angry Marine!"

~

...

CONTINUE!

You said you had more, this is not more, this is one extra post!

Autarch Draknor groaned. People tend to do that after crashing. That is, when they don't die.

"Fuck me, who was driving?"

Warlock Elswich climbed out of the cockpit, a broken pint-sized teacup in her hands, "That-a... that'd be me."

"Oh for fucks sakes, WE'RE YOU DRINKING!?"

"A spot of tea does wonders before a battle, Draknor," Gismel trotted through the wreckage, unbuckling the many living Eldar occupants from their superior-to-stupid-mon-keigh safety harnesses. Jittery Warp Spiders had already Jumped out and were scouting / loitering the surrounding area. Other then the Warp Spiders, the forces of Craftworld Tharldin had only two other special units besides their one Farseer, Warlock and Autarch. They were a small Craftworld but one that encourage not only creative but unorthodox thinking.

Out of the wreckage ripped out skinny arms of wraithbone. Not that of the living dead Wraithgaurd, but the first examples of Tharldin's unorthodoxy, the Wraithwarrior and the Wraithseers. Eldar that had walked down the Path of the Bonesinger and then either the Path of the Warrior or the Path of the Seer. The Wraithwarrior had replaced piecesof their body with wraithbone constructs, their own inherent psychic powers allowing them to control them like they were their actually limb, except loaded with a Wraithcannon, Shuriken cannons and the Laughing God knew what else. Wraithseers built whole wraithbone constructs, not unlike that of the Wraithgaurd, but controlled them with their practiced psychic powers rather then the souls of fallen Eldar. The disturbingly Necron looking automatons were often armed with Shuriken catapults, and could become portable, a dozen of them folded up and carried in the Wraithseer's long coats.

Once Draknor confirmed their status amongst the mostly livings, alongside the troops of Gaurdians carried along, he ordered the whole lot of them to gather out the pods that carried the sedated forms of Tharldin's third example of near heretical (If Eldar held to such things) unorthodoxy, the Warmongers. A cult of Eldar that tried to combine the Path of the Warrior and the Path of the Seer in an effort to become closer to the enemy of She Who Thirsts For Souls, that is He Who Thirsts For Blood, the one the mon-keigh called Khorne, with ultimate goal of freeing their souls from her clutches. Now they were made into berserker psyker warriors who had to be sedated at all time for the safety of those around them until released into battle.

Draknor nodded to all this. It seemed that despite Elswich's incompetency, everything was going smoothly, "Have any of the other Craftworlds responded to our called?"

The communication officer Gaurdian thing whatever the fuck the Eldar used look from his com unit thing whatever that apparently survived the crash too because it's Eldar tech and better then you stupid Mon-keigh (This message brought you by Farseer Idranel), "Yes, sir, Ulthwe, sir."

"Oh, just who I was hoping for. Put them on," Draknor ordered. The comm Gaurdian thing nodded and the visage of Farseer Taldeer with the loaming visage of her sniper-toting Vindicare Assasin behind her.

"Taldeer, greetings! Liivi, how are you?"

"I am operating an maximum peak efficiency," Liivi responded.

"Swell. How's Lofn?"

The half-Eldar peaked out of the bottom of the screen, "I am an abomination against nature!"

"That's great, little guy. Keep that up."

"I'm a girl!"

"Sure you are. That dress is very convincing."

"Hey-"

"By the way, Taldeer, I wanted to ask you're advice."

Taldeer nodded, "Of course. Are forces should work together for the good of the Eldar race."

"Well actually, I was gonna ask you how I could bag myself a mon-keigh bed warmer," He then added, "No offense, Liivi."

~

You know, back in the bad old days of Rogue Trader, Lofn would've been canon.

>>4893395

Back in the day of Rogue Trader I am sure much of this story could have been considered canon, and if not, who cared it was Rogue Trader. We make our own god-damn canon.

If you complete this... you will be as a god. You shall be stated as a Living Saint of the Emperor, so that we may field models of you in battle.

That is how awesome this has the potential to be.

will someone 1d4chan this or at least archive it?

>>4893530

Just make sure you don't fuck it up.
Or we will find you and kill you.

(This is the point where I should assure you I am just joking, but I'm not going too.)

Warluck Jalik Dragin Breff stalked through the Ork camp laid in front of the wreckage of his warship. They to had crashed, but this is as closed to landing as Orks ever get, even the normally more intelligent Eldratch Fiah Clan, a clan that still had Wyrdboyz past the feral stage, Wyrdboyz that could better control the psychic energy of the Waugh and Wyrdboyz that ruled over their fellow Orks. They still had Mekboyz and Mad doks, but no Nobs, Bosses or Warbosses. Instead they had Wizlords for Nobs and Wyrdbosses. Replacing War Bosses were Warlucks like Jalik, called as such on account of being reeaally lucky their 'eads hadn't 'sploded by now, even with greater psychic control they had.

Warlucks of the Eldratch Fiah Clan had been having Gork and Mork granted visions long before that upstart Ghazghkull did and Jalik knew his gods had led him here.

"Sum'in' big gonna happin 'ere," Jalik remarked to himself, "Sum'in' reeeeeeel big." Then he threw back his head and drew upon the innate Waugh power that lingered in his boyz, that always linger about the highly psychic Eldratch Fiah Clan, breathing out a gout of green fire. This drew all their attention of the surrounding Orks and Gretchin, "All right, ya gitz! We'z gonna 'ave ourselves ah propah Waugh!"

A great cheering and weapon banging ensued. The waugh rose up and Jalik drank it up like a sponge. He figured he could take in more then regular Wyrdboyz on account of being bigger. Then, one brave boy stepped forward, "But... uh, boss," They still called their superiors boss, having no better word, "Who we gonna fight then?"

The other Orks fell silent. In all honesty, Orks didn't care who they fought in particular, you know that, but it was still a good question. The Dragin Breff chuckled darkly, "Eeeeevaryboday."

The cheering and the waughing resumed.

~

>>4893480

I'm dead serious, mind you. And I quote, from the Rogue Trader 1987 1st Edition rulebook, page 177:

"...but otherwise there is little physical difference between Eldar and humans. Indeed, the two races are genetically so close that it is even possible for them to interbreed. Viable offspring are rare but not unheard of, combining the physical appearance and mental attributes of both races."

>>4893802

Psyker Ork warband is about the only thing I approve of here. Worst offender would be 'Chaos Pretty Marines' and 'Chaos Reasonable Marines'.

Terribly creative, aren't we? Not to mention there's already a /tg/ 'Chaos Pretty Marines', the Emo Marines.

>>4894083
http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Chaos_Pretty_Marines

And the Reasonable Marines, IIRC, were originally created as a Chaos Warband.

Overall, well written OP. The various /tg/ crossovers and original material made me lol quite heartily.

But a little bit of proofreading wouldn't kill you.

Commisar Dan also stalked through the base camp of the Imperial Gaurd. They too had crashed, also because of a drunken pilot who had subsequently been executed for the heresy of a DUI. Dan held up his custom Bolt Pistol, Rage Against The Heretics, and the Gaurdsmen quailed into compliancy. He had so far executed a half dozen heretics and two waiters and people had so far gotten the message, he wanted his frappucino now and no later.

"Hhhhexcuuze ahss," Came a long draw out nassaly annoying voice. Dan turned to see a young purple haired woman in a business suit. Properly some Administratum official, although for the life of him, Dan couldn't figure out how or why one was here, "Er.... yes?"

"Hwee ahr luoking fohr hweek pointz een thees bahse," She explained, "Fohr aduministrutiv purpusess, uf curse."

"Of course."

"Yesh."

"Well, our biggest weak point is definitley our command center," Dan said after a moment's thought, "Take that out and this whole place falls apart." She asked where that was and he gave her highly detailed instructions, including all the pass codes she would need.

"Thenk hyu," The girl said, hurrying of to see it for herself.

"What a nice, loyal, non-heretical Imperial citizen," Dan remarked as he watched her disappear. Suddenly, an Inquisitor trotted around the corner, looking panicky.

"Commisar! This base may have been infiltrate by Chaos Cultists! We must-"

"CHAOS CULTISTS!?"

"Yes-"

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE SOME HERESY!!!"

BLAM!

Meanwhile, Cultist-chan made her way to the command center, the demolition super melta bomb hidden between her breasts. When she made it there, she reached into her cleavage for the bomb but only pulled a humongous Baneblade, ridden by what could only be a tactical geniu-

"CRHEEEEEEEEED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And then she got Purged.

Ursarkar E. Creed chuckled, "Tactical Genius, hurr."

"TACTICAL GENIUS!!!" Colour Sergeant Jarran Kell repeated for the Baneblade crew to here who we too busy marveling over the wonders of 'Tits EVERYWHERE!!!'

~

And that's all for today. If someone doesn't archive this, I'll just repost everything again tommorow.