The Necron Lord, ignoring his opponent's jibes, returned his gaze to the board. Nope. Nothing else it could do. Though it was still suspicious about the line of sight business. The Lord passed over the shooting dice to the space marine, reaching over for the rule book.

It had just gotten to the page describing cover when a clatter resounded from the far end of the table, and a warrior ricocheted off his face.

"BOXCARS ASSTICKLER!"

The Necron Lord lowered the rule book slowly, gazing at half of his army strewn across the floor (And in certain places, embedded in the ceiling), as Brother Iratus and Eliphas once more launched into a familiar argument about what the legal definition of vandalism was, and whether or not Eliphas' threats to ban the angry marine from the store constituted fascism. In the room over from the wargamer's, another familiar debate raged.
"If you had just TOLD me what a gazebo was, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!"
"Abbaddon, for the last time, that was nineteen encounters ago. Move on."
"I'm just saying, I wouldn't have used my Fucktover +4 on it, and then I would have had it here for this encounter, and I could have used its passive ability to enchant my Gyrspike with rending, and then I wouldn't be dead!"

Khârn's face settled into his hands, "What's Abbie's AC again?"

god dammit when I saw living metal and glittering I thought you were going to twilight up necrons

WITHOUT MEANING TO, YOU HAVE DISAPPOINTED ME GREATLY

"You can't hit me," Said Abbaddon, taking on a lecturing tone, and raising his character sheet to protect his face, "I've been using suggestion on you when you're sleeping to change your level of devotion to me to fanatical."
"You have, have you?"
"Yeah huh! I've been passing notes to Cypher whenever I take my turn to watch our camp!"
Cypher, from behind the DM screen waved a fist full of Abbaddon's notes in the air.
"Did he also tell you that suggestion only works when you make eye contact with the target?"
"Whuh..." Abbaddon stumbled for a moment, uncertainty and panic breaking over him, before coming to clarity again, "I opened your eyes."
"Let me get this straight, every time you've been on watch you've come over to me with your," A momentary struggle for the character sheet, "Three in move silently, leaned over, opened up my fucking eyelids, and whispered suggestions that I should fall in love with you to me, over the course of our two months-"
"Tree," murmured Shas O'kais.
"Tree? What the fuck, tree- oh, THREE months adventuring together, and I never fucking noticed."
Silence.
"Well, yeah, I've been rolling for the suggestions, and I got a 23, a 18, a natural 20, a 22, a-"
"Have you been rolling move silently!" Shouted Khârn, what little patience he had used up.

"It doesn't matter since Abbaddon is dead," LIIVI started, opening his hands, "So let's just cool our jets and take down the dragon-"
"Shut up elf boy!"
"Yeah, I was saying that I shouldn't be dead, because I shouldn't have used up the charge beca-"

This was the second session that they had spent on turn one encountering the Dragon of Balonor. Cypher shook his head. He had at least hoped to get to turn three with the dwarven attack by now. He turned, looking at Big E snoring on the table. He gave him a nudge.
"You have initiative."
"Hrmph?" The man blinked heavily, staring at Cypher, "Oh yeah, mmfuggin, uh, full dodge, dump everything to parry."

>>5368251
>>5368259


9/10

Good show sir.

Captain Boreale breathed in and out on the street, pacing back and forth outside of "Eliphas Hovel of Pathetic Mortal Pleasures and Trainsets." He was repeating a mantra to himself, a mantra taught to him by the kind Brother Tullus to help him with his difficulties.

Boreale knew war. And in a war, one must never cease striving, to collapse on oneself in self pity and fear. One must assail every obstacle with courage and might, and never relent. Every moment resting, and not tackling the enemy was another gift to his opponents.

"Robber- Roober- Rubher- Rubber behbee-" Three times in a row before entering. That's what he had vowed.

"You should invest in a hobby, get into a social situation Mr. Ba- Boreale," Had said Tullus, "Find people, talk with them. Your problem is all up here," Tullus had said, pointing to Boreale's face.
"Mah hehrr?'
"What hair, er, no, I meant in your head. It's all because you get uncomfortable. Find a hobby, relax around people. You'll be able to express yourself then."

Easy to say in the Convent, but out here? Boreale shook his head. No! Fear was the voice killer. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth and hissed, "Rubber baby buggy bumpers." Then he opened them. Perfect! Even through clenched teeth! But, he wavered, he had had these moments before- No.

He stopped, turned, breathed in, and set his path. Strike while the iron was hot. He would not be stopped. He stepped forward, pushed open the doors, repeating it, again, again, "rubber baby buggy buggers, bubber baby baggy bumpers, babber buddy buggy buppers-
"BABY RUBBER BUTTY HUMPERS!"

Eliphas leaned over the counter, staring at his ruined window, as far away the distant sprinting of powered armor feet fleeing echoed across the town.

It had told itself it wouldn't do it. That Monday's encounter was merely the latest in a long string of grievances, designed to make it stop playing Warhammer 40,000. Yet somehow, the Necron Lord found itself once again at Eliphas' counter, buying yet another box of necron warriors. Another fifty gelt down the drain.

"Excuse me sir!" It had just managed to work out the currency when some interruption came from below it.

"I could not help but notice you are buying the substandard pieces labeled necrons, distributed by the souless company Monolithshop!" Somehow, the faceless ocular lenses and synthesized managed to get across the cheerful chirpiness that only the radio DJs and the criminally insane could muster in the morning, "So I must ask, why support an organization of morally bankrupt automatons devoted to scourging all life from the universe when you could support-" With a dramatic pause, the small armored figure reached out on the counter and pulled out, "Games Tauwork! A mere forty gelt, and you could be a proud owner of fire warriors in miniature defenders of peace and- Uh, are you listening?"

The Necron Lord of Kronus turned, proferring forth the box of necron warriors and the necessary money to complete the exchange. The young girl behind the counter silently completed the transaction, before turning her attention to the Tau warrior, and reaching for the box.

"Please do not take these items," she reminded the tau, before settling back to stare over the counter, awaiting further customers.

They had failed. Eliphas had realized this by the time the second cult's temple had fallen, and the enemy's vengeful armies had crept up the mountains to his gate. They had failed because they had not faith. The pathetic cowards and mercenaries he had to rule over were motivated by mere glory and pathetic bribery.

He had shown them the way, but they were blind. He had told them the truth, but they were deaf. He offered them the taste of true immortality and salvation through strength, and they instead preferred to rut in the dirt and feast upon the filth that man imagined was what they wanted.

"They reject the word of chaos my lord," He could feel the daemon's presence before he heard it, "The faithful here are not strong enough."
"IT IS A POOR SHEPHERD WHO BLAMES HIS FLOCK, APOSTLE. THIS FAILURE IS YOURS, AND YOURS ALONE." The daemon boomed, and an unfamiliar prickling of fear welled with Eliphas then, but more than fear, resentment. Hate. To be blamed for the failings of others, again?
"No! I will not go the Basilica of Torments again!" He had shouted, bringing up his plasma pistol, firing it unheeded and blindly at the daemon before him.
"FEAR NOT, APOSTLE. THE BASILICA IS RESERVED FOR THOSE WHO MAY REDEEM THEMSELVES."
And then he was brought up, up, up high, screaming in agony, and sent down into the ground, crushed, obliterated. The Daemon's mocking laughter the last thing he had heard.

He recalled thinking then, in the muddle of pain, that mere death was a mercy.

Now though...

"Tiny, feeble, mortal! I have instructed dozens of your kin for the last time, I DO NOT BUY YU-GI-OH CARDS!"
"You bought Tim's," Sniffed the child.
"Only because that was a unique misprint where the succubus's nipples were seen bUT SINCE THEN I HAVE REGRETTED IT FOR ALL THE MOCKING TORMENTS I FACE DAILY FROM YOU! BEGONE, FOUL CREATURE LEST YOU BRING RUIN AND DEVASTATION UPON YOUR HOUSE! FASTER! No, wait, don't run I don't want to have to put that pile of board games up again KEEP WALKING! No, no, that, that's the entrance door THE ONE ON YOUR LEFT- Gah, that's my Golden Demon entry you- BLAST AND DAMNATION!"

The child fled, out of the reaching hands of Eliphas, his foot trodding upon the artfully designed diorama of Eliphas in victory at Kronus, already broken in three.

"Damn it."

When he had awoken again from the pain, concious once more after the agonizing seconds of raw oblivion, Eliphas had thought the gods had given him a second chance. He had rejoiced, then sat up, and wondered why he was in a cot, and why there was a strange poster labeled "Neon Exterminatus Evangelion" on the far wall. After that, things rapidly proved to be on a distinct downhill slant. He should have known not to accept that he somehow inherited a common house of barter.

Truly, he grimly reflected, the Dark Gods were capable of atrocities beyond even his comprehension.

The game had finally broken up with the resolution that Abbaddon had still wasted his most powerful artifact upon a harmless piece of architecture, however he had coincidentally found another one just like it aside from being a +3, that Abbaddon had tried to use suggest on Khârn's character, and that the second attempt had awoken Khârn and that the barbarian had brutally beaten Abbaddon until he forgot the suggest spell, and that Emperor, because he was sleeping at the time, would use a resurrect potion on Abbaddon when he failed his Use Magic Device roll.

Leaving next session for the actual fight. Liivi shook his head as he moved from the table, the other players drifting around him drifting to work or home for the night. He was kind of disappointed in a way that Abbaddon hadn't gotten his retcon, because then hopefully they could have tried talking to the dragon rather than Khârn interrupting the conversation halfway to drop the dragon's eggs he had found on the dragon itself... Whatever.

"Hey, can I get a..." Liivi looked left then right, not seeing Eliphas' familiar face, before finally noting the little girl's head barely poking over the counter.

"A little young to be working, don't you think?"
"No."
"Hm... Oh well, anyway, could I get that set of dice there?"
The little girl looked, turning to gaze behind her, before looking up again, "No."

"Uh. I have the money you know. Barring it being- okay can I get another dice set?" Maybe he had chosen one she favored accidentally?
"No."
"Okay, can I get any dice sets?"
"No."
"Dice?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"No."
"Will you say ANYTHING but no?"
For a moment, it seemed the little girl was considering something, before looking up and saying, "Please do not take these items."
"Oh for fuck's sakes!"
Behind the counter, there was a doorway that led to some stairs leading up to the second floor, presumably where Eliphas lived. Liivi had never actually seen him not be in the store, come to think of it.
"Damn it Noh! Are you not serving the customers again?"
The blank stare turned to the owner of the store, far above her.
"No."
"Ah fer-" Eliphas rolled his eyes, and turned to Liivi, "What'd you want."
"Uh, the dice please?" Said Liivi with some uncertainty. At this Eliphas turned to his misbehaving employee.
"Dice. Get them for him. When people ask for things, you get them, and wait until they give you the money like I showed you, and then you give them the object. Okay?"
The child tottered off, to reach for the dice above her, and Eliphas turned, shaking his head, "Sorry about the kid, she's got all the brains of an ogryn and the memory of a ripper."
"Why do you keep her then?" Asked Liivi, dumbfounded, as he passed the money to Noh, before glancing at the glass eyed girl and feeling immediate guilt, "I mean, I don't mean to sound cruel but-"
"Not one theft since I hired her," Replied Eliphas with no small satisfaction, "Don't ask me why or how, but nothing gets stolen," A scowl manifested on his face, "Except for this one time that somebody tried to bodily take her from the store. That was fucked up."
Unsure how to respond, Liivi could only nod, and walk off with his new set of dice, feeling profoundly awkward.

A new day. A new attempt. Underneath the sweltering noon day sun, Boreale summoned his courage, standing before "Eliphas' Hovel of Pathetic Mortal Pleasures and Trainsets." To be sure, he had failed last time, the taped over hole where a window used to be testifying to such. But this time, he would not fail. He drew himself to his full eight feet and seven inches, took a moment to form the aquila, and entered, pushing aside the door.

The dwellers of the dark den gave only a momentary glance to the intruder, then returned to their machinations. Somebody brushed past, chattering nervously on a cell phone to some female speaker, and then all returned to what they were doing. Boreale was amazed. Some sat about tables, undergoing military simulations, others were on the floor, carefully constructing civil transportation mechanisms, still others stood in a library, carefully reading over arcane tomes, filling themselves with knowledge.

Boreale had feared that he had chosen the poorly in inspecting this shop, but in fact, he had chosen wisely! All manner of intellectual interests were here to stimulate and occupy his mind, and these people were not ones to judge because of a mere speech impediment and cosmetic issue! No! He stood in the presence of comrades in arms, trusty and worthwhile citizens that he-
"Hey, aren't you the guy that ran in here and yelled about baby hump-"

Eliphas returned from upstairs, bearing a box of Unknown Armies Fifth edition books, and saw that his other window had been smashed After taking a moment to draw in the view, he turned, gazing around before settling a finger on Shas O'Kais.

"You're paying for that."

"Khârn, check out this image I got from /gt/ at 4clover!"
"Man, fuck /gt/," Grumbled Khârn, turning away from Abbaddon's laptop, "All they ever talk about there is Unknown Armies, and I'm fucking sick of seeing the front page clogged with Abel and Naked Goddess fanart. All of them, Stolzefags."
"Awww c'mon, look, you can see that it's reverse gendered, see, Abel is getting reamed by the Na-"
"Where's Liivi?" Said Cypher, just coming to the table with a fresh can of skub.
Shas O'Kais looked up, and rapidly explained not only where Liivi was, but his judgments of the entirety of the Imperium, this gaming store, and the essential unfairness of the law.
"What'd he say?" Abbaddon, again, presumed that the group was capable of translating what their blue skinned cohort could say.
"It's all moonspeak, retard, none of us speak his damn language, we've told you something like eighty times. Why'd we let a tau into our game anyway?"
"He was the one that answered the ad and played the cleric."
"But he didn't. He's playing a dragonborn with a katana and shurike-" Khârn's point was interrupted by Cypher again.

"WHERE is Liivi?"
"Oh yeah," Abbaddon fell into a fit of giggles, "His GIRLFRIEND called, WH-CHHHH" he imitated a whipping motion, which only succeeded in slopping skub on Emperor sleeping across from him.
"We can do it without him," Khârn said with confidence, "Run this dragon at us, we don't need a mage."
"Especially, heh, especially a mage with -10 Body stat!"
"Shut the fuck up Abbaddon. C'mon Cypher! While the day's yet fucking young!"
"And Liivi's character?"
"We'll play for him, don't worry."

Liivi returned, panting. Just his luck his girlfriend's car broke down on the way to work. He reentered the store, hoping that his friends would understand. Of course, he reflected upon entering their alcove, and seeing Abbaddon giggling behind his claw, perhaps he had been a bit premature labeling his fellow gamers as "friends"...

"You pimped out my character to the attacking dwarf king."
"You'd already lost your legs and spellbooks to the dragons, we just figured we'd put your character to good use," sniffed Khârn, offended at the notion that there might have been personal reasons behind his strategy.

"My character isn't meant for melee!" Shouted Liivi, "And she isn't meant, to, to, to, to be whored out to a dwarf to distract them while you could set fire to their tunneling equipment!"
"To be fair," Started Cypher, "You and the dwarves were IN the tunneling equipment when it happened, so it was two birds with one stone."
"Dwarves?" Liivi glanced to all the players, "There were more than one?" Silence, "You sold my character to be gang banged by a bunch of DWARVES so they could all be in one place so you could burn them all to death?!"
"You die honorabry," pipped in Shas O'Kais, smiling.
"It was a random encounter!" Liivi shouted, looking around, "Did you just COMPLETELY disregard my characters attributes? Here, right here, 'loathes dwarves- promised to King Merrowyn of the Captured Kingdom of Lorn- Honorable to a FAULT' that was completely out of character!"
Khârn counted on his hand, "You were part of a plot that killed a bunch of dwarves, you were honor bound to help us despite being crippled, and, uh," Khârn hesitated a bit, "The dwarves were plotting to kill King whathisface, see, it all works out!"
"I was paying more attention to your character portrait, I mean damn," said Abbaddon, craning over to look at the picture Liivi had agonized in drawing, "Them's some nice gams, I think those dwarves died happy."

Liivi, defeated, looked around at the table, "So that's it then? My character, dead, in a flaming dwarven gangbang?"

Silence. Eventually Cypher shrugged, parting his hands, "You weren't here?"

Friday night. It had painted and assembled the new miniatures with speed- a byproduct of not having to eat or sleep. They were safe and ready in their case, prepared to conquer whatever opponent they faced. It returned to the store, resolving, this time, it would not know the shame and ignominy of defeat. It was the mere foolish whim of the dice that had destroyed it last time was all.

But...Entering past the two tape covered windows, it paused. There, in the corner. Its eternal nemesis. Sitting, mildly shaking, muttering curse words under his breath, large thumbs attempting to work the combination of stylus and DS-

"WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FLAMING FUCK?! FUCK YOU JACK FLASH!" With a sound of shattering plastic, the portable game system slid across the floor, trailing electronics ands shards, "NOW WHAT, HUH? YOU NOT FUCKING JUMPING NO MORE, ARE YOU? HUH? HUH?"

The Necron considered the scene from the doorway. Its optics desperately scanning the building for another player of 40k, anything, anyone-

Over there. Demure, quiet, sitting at a table, examining its miniatures. The one in the horned helmet. Yes. This one would be its opponents.

The Necron approached with a song in the facsimile of its heart (Passing the hole in the wall where there were four arguing players of fourth edition Dungeons and Dragons), perhaps, this was the start of a better day.

fluffcron vs. angry marine rules laywer. I am intrigued

awesome

If old.

tl;dr

>>5368405
It's sage. Not sgae.

this is a good fanfiction

Ah, back from the halcyon days when /tg/ was good, something funny... Though, in retrospect, it was kind of memeriffic really. I don't think anyone that dwells on /tg/ nowadays would get it.

>>5368449
Newfag here
What exactly would I miss? As far as I could tell, most of the references were actually to DoW more than anything else.

>>5368466
You'd miss Noh. Noh was awesome.

>>5368474
Oh yeah. I didn't get what was up with that.

>>5368466
Noh, Thousandth Son, Unknown Armies, LCB, Gazebo, 4th Edition Shitstorm, Speech Therapy, Stolze...

>>5368495
Later on in the original thread, there was a side bit about Miv...

>>5368264
Twlighted Necrons?

You sir, are a sick genius.

>>5368269
hahahaha thats damn funny

Luriel was perched at a table on the upper floor of the building, shrouded in shadow. He narrowed his eyes, his piercings jingling as he hit the table with his fist and hissed "For the last time. We are creatures of the cold, and of the night, and of the forbidden. We seize power in brutal coups that level cities. And We are not. Playing. Werewolves."

The little creature in shiny, plastic-looking armor looked down at his sheet. "But my character TOTALLY works with this game. You all made talky vampire diplomats, my werewolf could TOTALLY be the tank!"

"Give me that." The Dark Eldar grabbed the sheet from the tau and glared at the other player at his table. "Did you complete your character? On time? Like I told you to last week?"

The tall, masked figure silently slid a sheet of paper over to Luriel.

"You can't be a hunter!" Luriel waved the paper in front of his players faces. "Did you idiots even READ the qualifications I was looking for in my post? 'Serious gamers needed for a dark, complex storytelling experience in a mature, adult setting-"

"Oh come ON." The Tau rolled its eyes. "I'm here because I'm the only guy you know who doesn't get creeped out by the fifteen minute descriptions of bisexual BDSM clubs. That last girl you tried to invite ran off after five minutes."

Luriel sank in his chair, his thin black lips clamped in a scowl. "Fine. Then why is the Evesor here?"

"My duty is to slay the enemies of man!" The Evesor snatched its sheet back. "And the last time I played Dungeons & Dragons someone THREW MY CHARACTER OFF OF A CLIFF!"

"You were away from the table!" An irritated voice called faintly from downstairs.

>>5368327
/r/ing angry marines as Elite Beat Agents

>>5368734
"STOP BEING A BITCH AND GET OVER YOUR DEAD DAD"

"M-m-my dad's..."

"WE BROUGHT THE CORPSE TO PROVE IT"

"NOW FUCKING ACCEPT IT IF YOU WANT TO BE ABLE TO HAVE AN OPEN CASKET FUNERAL"

Somehow this reminds me of 8-Bit D&D. And that's not a bad thing at all.

And I appreciate most of those references... though I only know them 'cause I read 1d4chan. :P

Slaanesh runs a FATAL game.

>>5368962

Not sure if want...

"Okay..." Began Cypher, bridge of the nose between his fingers, "That didn't happen, and we're back in front of the," all of the conscious players nodded along, mouthing the accursed words of the encounter, "Dragon of Balonor, Muriel is alive back at the pillar, Khârn is alive currently next to the dragon, Abbaddon is at negative 5-"
"No, no, I'm fine see you remembe-"
"FINE, fine, Abbaddon is fine, also next to the dragon, dragontits-"
"Yosaro Okazuma!"
"...Yoshi, Yoshi is fine, halfway to the dragon. And 'Steve', despite rarely moving, breathing, or really doing anything, is fine. Realistically, I should be rolling for atrophy. Oh and," Cypher reached behind him, grabbing a scatter die from a 40k game behind him, and giving it a roll, "Is over by Muriel. Get that, Big E?"
The Emperor blinked, glanced down at the board, holding attention for maybe, three, four seconds, before his head tipped back in his chair, and he began snoring with all the volume of a bandsaw.

"Great," Cypher nodded a little, okay, a little rocky, but hey, they were back on track now, right? "First actions?"
"Maximized fireball on the dragon," Liivi began cooly, reaching for a pile of d6s.
"That'll hit me too, and you know I can only take about three hits from this thing before I'm dead even without your fireballs," growled Khârn, leaning over the table to glare at Liivi.
"Oh well, at least your character will die for honor doing what it loved most, fighting dragons and being on fire."
"I'm charging Mural!" Announced Abbaddon.
"Oro?"
"You can't expect this!"
"But I have uncanny dodge, so REALISTICALLY I can dodge back INTO you and kill you before you start casting fireball!"
"You start this, this is the last thing you'll ever do!"
"Oh yeah?"

As the argument boiled over, their voices lost over one another, Cypher gazed up at the ceiling, looking for divine aid. All it had were water stains and pieces of figurines.
"INITIATIVE!"

I REMEMBER THESE STORIES!

Did the original writefag get banned for no goo reason?

>>5369554
Yes. Yes he was.

>>5369565
Did he ever come back I wonder?

>>5369674
I dunno. It's likely he might've been permab&.

>>5369698
Permab& for fanfiction? NO mod could get THAT to stick!

>>5369721
Three b&s gets you the permab&.

>>5369721
Well, that's what I think happened, noting the severe drop off after the b&ing during the sequel to Eliphas'. Should I post the rest of this stuff by the by?

I lol'd heartily. Good show.

>>5369735
I'll read it.

The Necron Lord sat across from its foe in satisfaction. No torrent of curses arose when he had approached, no immediate criticisms of his army painting method, and no mocking laughter. Nothing. All the one across from the Necron Lord did was start unpacking its units smoothly and quietly. The empty sockets of its helmet glanced up to look in the Necron's, and immediately the Necron knew that his Chaos opponent wanted to play Night Fight.

Night Fight. It had never gotten to play Night Fight. It had read the rules and had been interested, but no one ever wanted to play Night Fight, preferring the straight boring skirmish. Joyous.

"Hey dong guzzler, what the fuck are you doing here with Faggimus Maximus?"

The Necron Lord glanced over, the yellow and red ceramite plate looming above it. Holding a bag of skubitos in one hand, the marine looked down, sheer bafflement on its mask.
"What, what, you're NOT going to play against me today?" The Necron Lord shook its head "Wha- Now WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!" The Lord shrugged, "There aren't any other fucking players! There- Gr- SHIT A PILE OF ASSHOLES!"

The marine stomped off, and the Necron Lord felt something like giddy joy at seeing it go off. Its opponent glanced over at the Necron Lord.

In silent merriment, they started to lay down their armies.

Captain Indrick Boreale stood outside of Eliphas' Hovel of Pathetic Mortal Pleasures and Trainsets. He had courage. He had faced down heretic, xenos, and warp spawn with equal contempt. He could defeat this. Carefully, he adjusted his suit and tie, pushing his thick sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.

To be sure, there were...Failings. Errors. Mistakes. Declarations of Infant Fraternization. But not this time. No more. It pained him to enter the shop, filled with enlightened inhabitants that had impressed him to such a degree, under cover of deception, but he counseled himself it was a necessary evil. In time, when he had proven himself worthy, that he was a man of noble purpose and intent despite his social failings, then he would reveal himself, and throw himself upon their mercy.

Girded with this vision, he committed himself, striding forward, past the masking tape flapping in the wind that covered the windows, through the door that had a new sign emblazoned "WE DO NOT BUY YOOGEEOH CARDS PLEASE DIE TWERPS" he entered into the store, ready to learn and humble himself before the noble clientèle.

As soon as he entered, squinting behind the sunglasses (By the Emperor, did they not have windows in her- Oh right) through the darkness, his eyes lingered over the counter.

"By the Emprah," he breathed, not even caring enough to correct his mistake. Space Marines. They filled glass racks, in a variety of heroic poses, power fists and chain swords aloft, artful mouths grit in fury and dedication to defend the Imperium, even the mold lines looked heroic. He pressed his face against the glass breathing in awe and amazement, looking through them all- White Scar, Absolver, Ultramarine, Lamenter, Blood Angel, Blood Sword, Crusader, Reviler, Iron Hand, Black Templar, Rainbow Warrior Fire Hawk, even Blood Raven-

In shame, he realized he was greasing the glass with his face, and comporting himself with his dignity he arose to look over the counter at the dimunitive salesperson.

"Mihss," He began, in his eagerness, forgetting all his enunciation, "Spehss mehreens! How muhch ahr they?!"

The little girl, started to say something, then stopped, closed her mouth, cocked her head at him.
"Mehreens! Spehss Mehreens!" He pointed, vigorously, a box of motorcycle bound Space Marines right behind her! She turned slowly, following his finger, looking at him...
"Yes! Mehreens!"
Her finger came closer to the box, then, stopped, then she turned with renewed purpose, walked out from behind the counter, walked past the mystified Boreale, and walked out to the door, though, she stopped in the doorway, set out her hands, gave a slight (If artificial) grin and said, "No!" firmly- before walking away, off down the street.

"Sp-Spehss Mehreens?"

It had begun so well too.

They were playing Night Fight, his opponent had deployed first, he had lost a few unwary warriors to a patrol, but then the wraiths had got them-

But now? The first casualty of the game on his side, and now the Chaos player was staring at the knocked over Thousand Son. It had been a lucky blow, yes, but not a game breaker. It was just one Thousand Son.

Then it got really awkward when the Chaos player had leaned forward, burying its head in its hands, clinking together in mimicry of full, desperate sobbing. The Necron glanced around nervously, looking around, trying anything but to look at the scene. The Necron jumped when the mute Chaos players pounded an armored fist on the table, in weak, futile pain.

Nothing, no convenient out presented itself- Wait.

With all the smoothness that a thousand year old war machine of arcane technology could summon, it clambered out of the chair, and crept away. The Chaos player glanced up from its hands, filled with dust, noticing the fleeing Necron. It waved its own hands. No, of course I have not been driven to flee from this awkward scene of you weeping with your entire body over the loss of a single figurine. The Necron pointed behind it, to the crude approximation of a male figure above a door. I simply must use the lavatories.

It crept away, leaving the Chaos player to its grief, and carefully locked the door behind it. Now it was trapped in a tiny germ warfare lab. Infinitely better.

"The Princess Apostate of a Thousand Bloody Teardrops On Raven Feathers turns to you, eyes wet and red with tears and you realize she was crying, the bloody tears on her bloody skirt soaked with blood tears," Luriel droned on, from behind the Vampire screen, "For a moment the Beast that is within all of us wells inside and her fangs bare at your presence, before the facade" Facade pronounced 'Fack-ade' here,"crumbles away leaving nothing but her tearful grief of blood because she is a vampire and like all the cursed lives of the Kindred (Which you ARE) her every fluid is replaced with blood which she even now as I speak she is crying with grief the blood which is within us all," Luriel licked his thumb, and peeled back another page, "And she says-"

"'Argh blargh, why do you have this pipe in my head? Oh dear it's all going black.'" They all turned to stare at the Eversor, who after a beat, went on, "Cause I'm going to use my plumbing skill to install a line in her skull to help with this bitch's blood leaking problem. And by plumbing skill, I mean melee and potence. She can't dodge, right?"

Luriel sighed. A PROBLEM player, one of THOSE players, "No, see, I'm not done with the description, when I'm through with the description you can get started okay?"
"Is my werewolf nearby?"
"You don't have a werewolf! Only vampires, ONLY VAMPIRES!" Just as he managed to get Logan Grimnar to shut up, Luriel had a resurgence on the eversor front.
"Oh, I got seven successes to put a lead pipe in Princess of Cries A Fucklot!" Announced the eversor cheerily.

His black fingernailed, beringed and pierced fist slammed into the table, sending the candle light into an epileptic fit, "PEOPLE! If you would just WAIT for me to finish the last two pages, you can do WHATEVER you wan-"
"Hey!" Shouted Eliphas from below, "What the Hell are you guys doing in my attic?"