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Thread: Take the Cookie

  1. #351
    Poet of the Deed Captain Corrigan's Avatar
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    1608 (x8)

    Fed up of being fobbed off with useless fake cookies, I create for myself a device capable of two primary functions. The first is to determine the location of the real cookie at all times, and coincidentally the other is to transform all Raven Guard personnel, up to and including their primarch, into small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. Activating it, I then use the frigate Hear Me Roar to translate into realspace inside the gravity well of Deliverance. Its then a simple matter of greeting the gentle furry Raven Guard and their cuddly primarch before taking the cookie and hiding it in a cupboard in Belarus equipped with such terrifying security measures as a broken padlock and two small knobbly bits on the inside nobody knows the point of, but all agree that its fairly terrifying as a prospect.

    My cookie!

    -Corrigan


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  3. #352
    Son of LO praxis's Avatar
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    523 (x8)

    Landing on Deliverance with my reassembled marine fleet and entire chapter strength, I start playing my Banjo and make the Raven guard "Squeal like a pig !" before hiking and canoeing across the wilderness in search of Belarus.
    "I'm sure they played England once at football." claimed the Captain of my first company
    "Nah, Belarus was the name of the company that made Buffy the vampire slayer !" chimed in a scout. Fortunately, one of the Librarians remembered his laptop, so I google map and search it, and soon we are standing next to a rather shabby cupboard. But no matter how hard we turn the handle, the door just wont open, so I call up a squad of Assault terminators.
    "If in doubt, give it a clout." I tell them. "light up the thunder hammers boys." Twenty minute of furious bashing later, and the cupboard is unharmed.
    "Let me try the vortex grenade, my lord." the chaplain says. "Stand well back, mind, this is a bit dangerous." The vortex grenade takes out five hundred acres of forrest, a herd of Buffalo, and three of my land Raiders before dissipating. Still the cupboard remains intact. For the next couple of days my entire army tries every trick it knows to open the cupboard, from orbital bombardments to digital weapons, but to no avail. We hang around for days, smoking and scratching our beards, and throwing stones in the water, when suddenly I have an idea. I approach the cupboard, spread my arms wide, and cry;

    "Mellon !"

    The cupboard door opens with an ominous crack, revealing a secret passage that disappears into the mountain behind it. In the passage, I can see the ancient bones of what appear to be small furry creatures, and two knobbly bits as well, and beyond them, the cookie. The scouts advance and prepare to explore the passage.
    "Screw that." I say "Grab the cookie and lets get the hell out of here. I'm not back in work until tomorrow night, and I've got to build some kits for my ToXG. Besides, we dont know when that cunning Captain Corrigan will put in an appearence, and try and steal the bloody thing back !" Post-haste, the forces at my command vacate the system, and I ponder how best to protect the cookie. Considering all my past failures, I embark on a new strategy once I get home. When my wife moved in with me, she bought her cat with her, a nice enough parasite but a total house bound git who craps in a tray in my utiliy room, kicking cat litter all over the floor, which I often step in on my way to the beer fridge. And the wife is a bit slow at emptying the tray. Putting on my thickest gloves and grabbing a long reach spade, I scrape a shallow trough in the litter tray, and drop the cookie into it, before covering it over with pee smelling granules and cat droppings. Not at all confident I will hang on to the cookie, I can at least take pleasure in the nightmare task someone has of stealing it off me.

    My cookie !
    Jager bombs. Very efficient at wiping out friend or foe.

  4. #353
    Poet of the Deed Captain Corrigan's Avatar
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    1608 (x8)

    Cursing the ingenuity and good fortune of my nemesis praxis (I could've sworn that that cupboard was the most secure location in eastern Europe) I set to work. Finding a dog in a rescue home and wearing full biohazard gear, I move into praxis' house. Originally I had intended upon a stealth insertion, but I had difficulty communicating this to the dog, wivh barked loudly and pursued the cat, which duly fled, and an astonished praxis and Mrs praxis emerge to see what the hell is going on.
    "Corrigan?" asks praxis incredulously, "why are you wearing my old dinner jacket and a gas mask?"
    "Ahh, that'd be my fault," answers Mrs praxis unexpectedly. "This nice young man said he needed some clothes that could get ruined without anyone caring, so I gave him the suit."
    "YOU WHAT?!" demands praxis. "Have you any idea how dangerous this man is?"
    "What man?" asks Mrs praxis, and sure enough both I and the cookie have disappeared from sight. I then hide the cookie in my mountain fortress in the Scottish Highlands.

    My cookie!

    -Corrigan

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  6. #354
    Oh No! Not Him Again! Non Marine Player's Avatar
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    94 (x2)

    Luckily enough my family's relatives happen to own the vast majority of the Scottish Highlands, and have the tools to create Volcano Doom Fortresses where there was previously no inclination to erupt. However, Captain Corrigan was made of stouter stuff than I expected, not giving into the mass intimidation factor of turning every peak around him into a lava spewing, gun-toting death platform. I then remember the story of Troy, and the genius Greeks with their infiltration device. There is a week long period of loud hammering sounds and whinning saw instruments before finally, a large wooden horse suddenly appeared in front of his Mountain Fortress. His Scottish Guards had no idea what to think of it;

    "What d'yu'reckon it ess Jimmi?" asked one bewildered Scotsman to another.
    "Ah heck, I danno," interjected the other, "Has you gots any ideas Cappun?" He directs this question towards Captain Corrigan
    "I know what this is," Corrigan haughtily asserted, "Classic, NMP must think it clever to reference traditional mythology. I know what's happening here, there are going to be men hiding in there, who will wait until nightfall, expecting us to take the horse in, and steal my Cookie. Well I won't have it, open it up!"

    A Scottish guard then went up and discovered a hatch, expressing his discovery to the others. They gathered around the hatch, ready to shoot the soldiers trying to escape, but when the hatch opened, no men were found. Instead, when inquisitive ginger heads looked inside, they found no less than 12 Void Mines. After a short, simple curse from one of the men (which coincidentally sounded a lot like spit) they detonated, disintegrating them, the horse, about 1 mile of Highland around the fortress as well as much of the exterior section of Corrigan's castle.

    I then teleport down behind him.

    "Well," I quipped, matter-of-factly, "this was certainly a lot easier than going through praxis' cat's litter tray"
    "Yes, yes, ok, you got me," Corrigan admitted, as my cohorts emerged from around him, "So, you're going to kill me again, like that's stopped any of us before."
    "Exactly, so I'm going to strap you into the gyroscope that perpetually powers this rocket. You won't die, but out of action you will be for now."
    "Bugger," said Corrigan, "Good thing I packed sandwiches."

    I then seal him in the airtight container and strap him into the gyroscope, which I then spin, causing the rocket to spring into life and launch Corrigan off into space. I then waltz into the remaining chamber of his fortress and take the cookie from the ornamental case it sat in.

    My Cookie!

  7. #355
    Poet of the Deed Captain Corrigan's Avatar
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    1608 (x8)

    Conveniently, NMP had put me exactly where I needed to be, and the frigate Hear Me Roar from several posts ago is still in orbit, and the officer in charge, one Commander Daniels, said:
    "Sorry to interrupt your orbit sir, but it appears the cookie is not in our hands any more."
    "I can see that, Commander. Quick, pull us into atmosphere before NMP hides it."
    We screeched into the atmosphere to a chorus of groans from tortured metal, but we arrive just above where NMP is standing with the cookie.
    I go to the surface in a Valkyrie with an elite squad of storm troopers.
    "Hello NMP. I could be really witty and intelligent while stealing the cookie now, but to be frank I'm short on time, so this'll have to do," I say before knocking him unconscious while my bodyguards mop up the armed cohorts. I then take the cookie and hide it in a pub with up to 99990 free pints, knowing anyone who wants to steal the cookie will first be too drunk to remember how.

    My cookie!

    -Corrigan

  8. #356
    Son of LO praxis's Avatar
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    523 (x8)

    Well, it took me a long time, but I finally finished off the last of those 99,990 pints and sobered up enough to remember why I started drinking them. I find the cookie hidden under a pile of old pennies and shillings in the collection box for "Help for Wargamers", and take possession. Knowing my time with it will be short, I make an incision in my chest, insert the cookie, and sew up the wound. Armed with all the knives from the pub kitchen, I await the next robber, swigging from a bottle of Magners cider, as all the proper drinks have run out.

    My cookie !
    Jager bombs. Very efficient at wiping out friend or foe.

  9. #357
    Poet of the Deed Captain Corrigan's Avatar
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    1608 (x8)

    Oh dear praxis. You really haven't made this easy for me to do in a civilised fashion. And I do hate to get my hands dirty... :sigh:

    Returning to the pub to find the cookie, I am shocked to find that a man of iron constitution managed to get past the defence mechanism, and correctly surmise that this could only be the indefatigable praxis operating under his superhero alias, Cornelius Kneel, who can kneel through solid steel. Performing detailed surveillance (read: I looked in the kitchen window of the pub), I see that praxis is still in the kitchen, and despite having sobered up slightly he is still very drunk and is armed with several pieces of kitchen string which he was evidently drunk enough to believe were knives. So I boldly walk in, armed with a pair of mirrored sunglasses to conceal my identity and a three year old train ticket to Southampton, and confront the drunken man.
    "Can I have a word please, good sir?" I say to him.
    "What do you want?" slurs praxis heavily.
    "I have heard from the barman that you intend to drive and are over the drink driving limit. If this is true then I must inform you that you may not do so."
    "What?" he asks, confused.
    "It means, sir, that I am and undercover detective and I have nothing better to do than breathalyse you"
    "Oh," he answers as the words percolate slowly through his drink addled mind. "Well hurry up, but I am completely sober."
    "I'm sure you are, sir," I respond, amused, and pull out a gun loaded with tranquillisers.
    "Eh? That ain't no breathalyser!" says praxis.
    "As always, your observational skills astonish me sir," I reply before shooting him. I then perform emergency surgery to open him up and restart his heart after I realise he isn't breathing, and find the cookie while doing so. I wash it before pocketing it, sewing praxis up and escaping. I then hide the cookie in the disused nuclear bunker at the bottom of a friend of mine's garden.

    -Corrigan

  10. #358
    Son of LO praxis's Avatar
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    523 (x8)

    Unfortunately for the Captain, nuclear war breaks out just after he has left the shelter, and he suffers instant death. Wales is not targeted during the initial strike, as there is bugger all there worth blowing up, so after my wounds have healed I pop on my NBC warfare suit, and go and get the cookie. Gathering up Corrigans ashes, I seal them in a stasis chamber, and then drop them down a well, which I then fill with concrete, hoping this will stop him getting the cookie back for at least a couple of hours. Returning to Wales, I hide the cookie in my wifes handbag just as she leaves to go and play Bingo - Castle Bingo, Newport road, Cardiff, If anyone is man enough to enter such a miserable, cursed, sad, and embarrasing place in search of the cookie.

    Meanwhile, not having to return to work until Thursday, I get a Stella and contemplate how to spend the rest of the night, confident that if anyone is going to get "offed" by cookie thieves, it will be the wife.
    Jager bombs. Very efficient at wiping out friend or foe.

  11. #359
    Poet of the Deed Captain Corrigan's Avatar
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    1608 (x8)

    Fortunately, the Captain who was killed was not me, but one of my colleagues. Furthermore, the strike had killed so many senior naval officers in a Warday style scenario that I am left in overall command of Her Majesty's Navy (although the title is probably irrelevant given the Queen was probably killed too, but let's just be optimistic and assume she's alive), and organise a defence against a force of NBC warfare suit equipped troops sent to seize the country. I am knighted for my efforts and promoted into the emergency grade O-10 rank of Admiral of the Fleet. Since our navy survived the war unscathed due to being on a major patrol operation, I then set to work. The fleet returns to a ravaged country and sail around the coast to Wales (which looks ravaged anyway despite having been left untouched by the war, but that's just Wales for you... ) and I go ashore in an NBC suit of my own along with a battalion of similarly garbed marines. We soon find praxis by asking around, since he was the only man to have shorn any interest in Castle Bingo, and so I guess what has happened. Ordering that the location be shelled from offshore, all three of our naval rowing boats' crewmen throw small pebbles in the direction of the Castle Bingo playing room. Their fire falls short, however, but we storm the place anyway, protected from the lethal radiation of the place by our suits. I then arrest praxis' wife as a suspected enemy agent, search her handbag, remove the cookie before apologising profusely and releasing her. I then hide the cookie in an underground volcano lair, with lava and dragons and ninjas and machine guns and bears and dinosaurs and...you get the picture.

    My cookie!

    -Corrigan

  12. #360
    Son of LO praxis's Avatar
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    523 (x8)

    The wife just got home from Bingo, having had to walk home on account of some git smashing up her car with pebbles. Searching her handbag while she makes my tea, I find the cookie gone. Oh well, I hung onto it for longer than usual. Being a bit down, I drop several acid tabs, and have the most amazing trip - I could fly, but then my wings melted and I fell into a cave, where several Tyrannosaurus were smoking weed. They invited me to stay for dinner, and we had Ninjas in pasta sauce. After dinner, I danced with a talking bear who gave me a machine gun. Then a dragon with a girl tattoo arrived, and offered to swap my machine gun for a cookie, which seemed like a good idea at the time so I said "Deal." Then Daenerys Targaryon appeared and asked me to marry her ! I think I've come down now, but I have a cookie in my wallet so I'm not sure. Just in case ;

    My cookie !
    Jager bombs. Very efficient at wiping out friend or foe.

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