Welcome to Librarium Online!
Join our community of 80,000+ members and take part in the number one resource for Warhammer and Warhammer 40K discussion!
Registering gives you full access to take part in discussions, upload pictures, contact other members and search everything!
So after seeing the great fun of the "ask a hydra" and Tekores "ill pick your character" threads, i thought of a.....interesting idea! If you post up here, i'll write a little fluff excerpt about you, set in the 40k universe. i'll most likely use some past posts, your sig, avatar, and whatever i can gather to make a cool background story. Some will be funny, some perhaps serious. Some in first person badarsenes, some in perspective third person history. Any takers?
Okay, go on then; I'm game.
Up, up and away!
Story of wallex
He could still hear thier voices in the dying wind. His adoring fans. Across the galaxy they came, the rich and the famous. Before the doors of Wallex these nobles of the Imperium sat, waiting for whom the artisian would pick as his next breathtaking masterpiece. Last week's had been a princess of the planets elite aristocracy. So entranced was she with Wallex's work, that the woman had a entire 80 foot room constructed made up entierly of mirrors.
But tonight would be different for Wallex. For once, it would be he whom felt anticipation crawl under his skin. For tonight, Wallex's profession, face painting, would reach it's highest climax. A different sort of client had heard of Wallex, one who's existence was only known to the highest order of the imperium.
A figure appeared behind him, whos shape seemed to dance and move, even while it was standing still.
"Where shall i sit, Mon-kiegh?" spoke the Harlequin.
Story of mike
"FOOLISH RUNT! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT COSTS?!?!" The startled whipped slave looked up at his master, his orange armour casting a menacing shadow on the ground
"y-y-yes master. I was only t-tu-trying to please you master!"
Looking down on the whelp, Mikethanos (Mike) could not help but feel disgusted. To think that this creature was a neccessity for his work was enough to tighten his trigger finger on his bolter.
"YOU WILL RECIEVE 1,000 LASHES IN THE ROOM OF CONTEMPT, AFTER YOU ARE DONE LICKING AND SPITTING THE PAINT OFF THE FLOOR! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"
Nodding his head franticlly, the slave began slobbering and licking on the ground, desperatly trying to retrieve all of the spilled orange paint from the floor.
Ignoring the creatures screams of pain as Mikethanos stepped on it's back, the renegade marine could hardly control the anticipation of his step as he walked through the gantry. Below him lay his most beloved possesion. A stolen Imperial guard Baneblade, crafted from the forges of Gryphonn V. There would never be another model from that long lost planet, this one recorded as the only surviving model.
ANd to think, it now belonged to him! Of course, when he recieved it, the color of the armour was the gaudiest gray you had seen, but that would soon change. Mass vats of bubbling orange paint sat above the warmachine, ready to be delicatly added to it's impressive armoured flanks.
Smiling, Mikethanos went off searching for the other slaves, his trigger finger still needing to be satisfied.
I bet you can't do this for me
Mysterious Member of the ANZAC Clan
Let's do it. And I'm glad you like my thread, even if I'm slow on it (working 14 hours a day atm, that'll do it).
Invisible eyes stood amongst the rafters, watching, waiting for the one who was worthy.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Imperium! Thank you once again for coming to Ben and Fonda's circa de treat! And now, for the act you've all been waiting for, hereeeesss Scott!"
The crowd cheered wildly, there echoes of apprehension and jubliation booming across the massive tent. Suddenly, the lights went out. Cry's of alarm and fear went up amongst the spectators, worries that perhaps this was not part of the show.
Knowing that this was his chance, the eyes jumped quickly down the 40 foot drop, rolling gracefully on the ground and darting through the hidden tent flap. Slipping past a man walking opposite of him, the eyes could not help but twinge with regret as the man failed to notice him. No matter, the council said this whelp was ready, so he must be. Slipping through a closing door, the eyes waited.
The crowd, urging closer to panic, began screaming more and more at the omnious darkness.
A light snapped on, it's single beam piercing the darkness. The entire crowd went silent. Over 10,000 mouths simultaneous closed, the pressure in the room actually increasing with the sudden drop of oxygen intake. A single man stood under the beam. He was dressed in white, his skin parlour white, with a flaming orange beard sprouting from his face. With a flick of his wrist, the floor before the man opened, a steaming mist hissing from hydralic pumps beneath the room.
"This! Ladies and gentlemen, is a Cow"
Cries of dismay and suprise escaped the closed mouths. A cow? here? There hadn't been a cow seen on the planet since the Pigeon migration. And that was almost 2,000 years ago!
"Now watch, and be amazed by our magicians trick! Note people, the obvious lack of pysker ability in our man! Through sheer faith in the Emporer, our man will make this cow, dissapear!"
Dumbfounded at what they had heard, the crowd remained silent, a few naysaying that such a feat was impossible, but they were quickly silenced by others glares, or laspistols.
Walking towards the cow, the magician raised his hands. Slowly incanting random gibberish and awkward vowels, Scott took off his white robe, and placed it over the caged cow. Several minutes passed, the random vowels and consanants spilling from the mans bearded mouth.
"Whats he doing? Is this a fraud? Why white?" the people in the crowd became unruly, thier patience slowly running thin.
At the peak of thier frustration, the magician flourished his cape off the cage. Stunned, the people looked on, stupified by what lay before thier eyes.
The cow was gone! Without a trace the cow had dissapeared!
Cries of utilation arose from the people, cheering and waving at thier bearded entertainer.
"And would you LOOK AT THAT! NO COW!" The magician slowly walked off stage, twirling his cape behind him as he walked.
Smiling, the man walked back into his room and lazily flopped on his couch. From a side door, a small mooing came.
"good work today bessy! We really have the people going" Scott said across the room.
Like a flash, the eyes struck. A blade was at the mans throat, nicking the ever tiniest cuts into his neck, where blood was already forming.
"You, Scott, have been chosen by my order, you are to come with me.", spoke the eyes.
"You are of the ANZAC?", spoke Scott.
"Yes, and you have been deemed worthy".
Quickly, the eyes jabbed a syringe into the mans shoulder, pumping sleeping stimulants and drugs into the his bloodstream.
The mans last words "Chosen! me...." were carried silently on the wind.
And then all hell broke loose. Private Jamenson was sitting on the front trenches when it happened. Enemy armour, hundreds of pieces by the looks of it. They were all rumbling on in a very compat formation, five abreast, with the line stretching all the way back to the mountain range.
Panicing, this was Jamenson's first real combat duty. 6 months of training and drilling lay behind him, and here he was now, part of the 121st Saucers. Yes, the Suacers. Running down the trench, Jamenson began yelling left and right of the incoming armour advance. Suddenly, as he turned around the bend, he slammed into a shape.
Looking up frightened, Jamenson saw his platoon sargent, Tekore.
"Ya big dummy! runnin' into me with your greenhorn!" The sargent was a massive man, his black skin contrasting with the red sky.
"Listen up dummy! get the squad ready! We're movin up!"
"....up front sir?" replied Jamenson.
Tekore looked back down at the soldier "Well, where else would we be headin?" The sargent said this with a massive smile, humor displayed in the creases of his face. "And Jamenson, grab me as many of doz big rocket tubes as ya can find! we're gonna need em".
Running back to the front, Jamenson quickly radioded the rest of the squad.
"Karky, Tossy, Kar, and Archy! Get the rest of the squad, Tekore wants us up at the front".
A series of moans and complaints filtered back to him, but the squad complied.
Set up in a tower on the eastern trench ridge, the squad waited for the oncoming army.
"hmmm, they'll be sendin' in the infantry after the tanks patter us up! Tossy! I want artillery command on standby! give em our co-ordinates! Exact ones too".
Everyone paused in there readiness as their sargent spoke this.
"e-exact cordinates Tek?" Spoke Tossy.
Tekore whirled around on his vox man "Thats right greenie! Exact coordinates! trust me on this, i'm a professional."
Once again, the squad began working on the tower, fortifying thier position, and preparing there escape route.
a flicker on the vox bead opened up.
"hey boss, i've got em on the picter! we got around 30 tanks in this sector, and...yep, i'm seein' at least a'hundred traitorous bastards walkin' out there". It was the voice of Katie, the only female member of the squad.
"Alright listen up everyone! We're gonna get hit hard! Give me one of them rocket tubes, and everyone else, get in place!
The dirty plain in front of them was quite. There was little to no cover offered to the enemy, a straight run into the trenches of the imperium.
And then the first shot. A glancing hit, screeching past the base of the tower, ripping off chunks of harddend dirt, and sending big boulders in the trenches below.
"Open fire" Tekore said on the vox, like it was the most casual thing to say.
From the top window, karky fired his rocket tub in response. A lucky hit, as the rocket nailed the first tank in it's front treads, ripping up the ground and plowing itself under. Another rocket came from the bottom window, this one fired by Tekore himself. Not one to care what others thought, Tekore whooped and walloped as he fired his rocket, cries of WWOOOPIEEEE heard across the vox. An amazing shot. The rocket went through the barell of the tank, detonating inside of the vehicle. The crew inside screamed as the explosion inside detonated the ammo casing, further damageing two other vehicles next to the first.
"wow tek! Amazing shot!" cried Kar.
Suddenly, a bullet whipped through the building, punching throw Kars chest. The shell was huge, knocking the trooper off of his feet and punching him threw the wall. dust and debris shook the tower as the wall caved in on itself.
Heavy calibre autocannons ripped through the weaker parts of the mudded tower, leaving piercing streams of light all through the room.
"Tossy! Another rocket would be nice!" Tekore yelled into the vox. A moment later, a WHUMPUSSHHH was heard exiting the upper window. A few seconds later, a satisfy crunch was heard as another tank was disabled by the rocket. Jamenson looked over at Tekore. The sargent was crawling on his hands and knees, dragging his rocket with him to the window. After peering through the window, Tekore turned around and signalled to Jamenson.
He directed Jamenson to a spare rocket rube that was near the stockpile the squad had placed. Hesitantly, Jamenson crawled on his belly and returned to the window with tekore, completely sure he was not gonna like what was about to happen. Gazing out the window quitely, Jamenson saw Tekore's idea. The tanks were streaming past the tower, running down into the trenches behind it, ignoring the tower still firing into thier ranks. Tekore looked over at Jamenson, and with a big smile on his face, counted down
Jamenson watched Tekore's fingers, time seemed to slow. 3........2.........the two seemed to last forever......1!
Tekore and Jamenson both flipped there rocket shots out the window, both rockets smashing and demolishing two tanks streaming past the tower. With no where else to go, the other tanks stagnated behind the ones that were crippled.
"NOW! TOSSY, DRAKE, KARKY! FIRE FIRE FIRE!" From the higher windows, a trio of rockets appeared from the tower, smashing into thier perspective tanks. The wreck was a beauty. All together, ten of the 30 tanks had been crippled or destroyed. But the return fire was great. The other tanks turned thier turrets on the tower, ripping straight through the mudded walls with thier massive caliber guns.
"EVERYONE! GET DO- But Tekore was cut off as a cannon shattered through the wall, knocking him and Jamenson on the Floor. The world went red as clay and the setting sun blinded Jamenson. Figures started rushing through the wall. Las shots were heard as the troopers up top came down to save thier sargent. A click was heard, and suddenly the air above Jamenson was scorching hot, people screaming and running around ablaze.
Someone grabbed him, and hauled him roughly up the stairs. Jamenson looked up. It was Tekore! The massive man had opened his holster and withdrew his bolt pistol, a special action piece with an extended clip. His most favorite weapon, gifted to him by the....what chapter was it? Phoenix Legion.... Tekore was dragging his body across the floor, screaming and smiling as his bolter lit up his face, a crazed expression written on it. Suddenly, Jamenson was thrown on the floor, and heard a door close.
Near him, on the floor, Archy lay dead, a lasbolt had singed through his eye socket, burning his brain matter.
"ALright boys! we gotta go!" Katie lifted a plank from a wall, and behind it lay a small crawl space. From behind, banging and pistol shots were heard, the men outside trying to get in. Quickly, Katie, Karky, Tossy and Jamenson ran into the small crawl space. From behind, Jamenson could hear the door break down and Tekore yelling. Turning round. He could see the sargent fighting men left and right, His right hand held on his sargents combat sword, his other pumping round after round into enemy soldiers.
"TEKORE! HURRY!" Tekore whirled around as one of the soldiers was coming at him, slicing his throat with a quick cut.
"GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE GREENHORN! YOU BIG DUMMY!" Tekore ran to the hole and shot at the entrance, caving in his sqaud as he fought off the enemy soldiers. Jamenson's last image of his sargent was of the man ramming his sword in an enemy gut, beating the soldier to death. A wicked grin was set on his face.
Looking behind him, Tekore saw that his squad had gotten away. Reaching into his back pocket, Tekore pulled away the most precious item to him ever. A golden locket, with a picture of his sweetheart in it.
"Elizabeth, I'm comin' home to you honey". Wrapping the locket around his hand, Tekore looked at the oncoming rush of men. Running forward with a beastly warcry, Tekore smashed into the troopers, his bolt pistol blazing, his sword slashing.