A Suspicious Mind Is A Healthy Mind

What is Warhammer 40k and why is it shitting up Entertainment?

Warhammer 40k is a tabletop miniatures game created by Games Workshop that has spawned a universe of novels, art, video games and has even inspired power metal. It has a massive goon following.

Warhammer 40,000 is set in the 41st millenia (obviously.) Mankind has reaced far in to the stars under the united banner of the Imperium of Man. The immortal God-Emperor led humanity through the stars until he was mortally wounded 10,000 years before the present game time. Those events called the Horus Heresy make up the backbone of 40k history. After the Emperor's entombment (I'm sorry Commissar, I meant "ascension") things basically went to shit. The progressive Imperium of Man devolved into a ultra-religious pseudo-theocracy. Technology hasn't been advanced in any major way in 10,000 years but the Imperium still forges on, fueled by the lives and the faith of its people. They are not unopposed. There is no peace. There is no respite. There is no forgiveness. In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war. And goons.

Okay. How I pledge my life (i.e wallet and free time) to the Emperor?
Play the RTS, Warhammer 40k: Dawn of War. Its cheap now and an awesome game. While not giving you any inkling of what the actual game mechanics are like, it does start the addiction. You can see the awesome intro video here. In fact, go do that. We'll wait.
Dawn of War only allows one campaign, playable as Space Marines, and includes the Orks, Eldar, and Chaos forces.
Winter Assault has two campaigns, Order and Disorder, and allows the Imperial Guard as a playable race.
Dark Crusade introduces a Risk-style map, and introduces the Necrons and the Tau into the game.
Soulstorm is not that good. The game adds Sisters of Battle and Dark Eldar, but the gameplay is nothing new, air units act as vehicles that can't be melee'd, and the voice acting is subpar.

For those who already have or just want to play with REAL (plastic) army men, check out the "Battle For Macragge" starter set on www.games-workshop.com. Its a good starting point for people interested in 40k. Below is a complete listing of armies.

Give me a hundred Space Marines. Or failing that give me a thousand other troops
The Space Marines are the most common army, as they are heavily armed and armored, and are generally easy to play. Holy Warrior-Monks of the Emperor, Space Marines are genetically modified superwarriors. Standing upwards of 10 feet tall, SMs charge into battle in powered armor, firing holy bolters, guns which fire explosive rounds. They are the spear tip of the Imperium, thrust into battles to be a quick, powerful force to overwhelm and destroy the enemy.


We are the Imperial Guard. It's time we started acting like it!
If the Space Marines are the spear tip of the Imperium, then the Imperial Guard is the rest of the spear, the hand that holds it, and the arm that throws it. The IG is made up of untold numbers of citizens from all across the galaxy, armed with basically a flashlight and a helmet. The Imperial Guard is massed infantry supported with heavy tanks and artillery. It is the common man, standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother, fighting against a galaxy of foes.

"I have at my command an entire battle group of the Imperial Guard. Fifty regiments, including specialized drop troops, stealthers, mechanized formations, armored companies, combat engineers and mobile artillery. Over half a million fighting men and thirty thousand tanks and artillery pieces are mine to command. Emperor show mercy to the fool that stands against me, for I shall not."

The Inquisition is an organization of Holy Terra dedicated to fighting enemies "Within, Without, and Beyond". The Ordos Hereticus, Ordos Malleus, and Ordos Xenos form up the majority of the Inquistion. Two of the branches have playable armies, while the third, the Deathwatch, appear only as a supplemental release from GW.

We swore an oath, to obey orders, to spread the light of the Emperor before us and banish the dark. It is our duty to complete our mission no matter what the obstacle! We do not back down in the face of adversity, else we fail in his most blessed sight. We are the Daughters of the Emperor, Sisters of Battle
The Sisters of Battle are the militant arm of the Adepta Sororitas, an organization within the Ordos Hereticus. Since organization law prevents any men from carrying arms, the Sisters of Battle are entirely female. And they have some pretty neat weapons as well.


The Despoiler comes forth once again, and he cannot be stopped by force of arms alone. It is his will that the stars be stained red with the blood of all who oppose him. An infinite horde of fiends, mutants and cacodaemons obey his command to devour Cadia alive. But he will not stop there. If our faith in the Emperor and our force of arms prove strong, the forces of Chaos can be driven back into hell. If we are found wanting, Humanity will fall.
The Grey Knights are a specialized chapter of the Space Marines, serving under the Ordo Malleus. It is their job to seek and destroy heretical spawn, specifically the demons of the warp. The Grey Knights are specially trained in demon fighting, and their equipment is covered in sigils and blessings to protect them from Chaos. Their armor, however, is left unpainted, perhaps as a sign of their purity. In all their years of service, not a single Grey Knight has ever fallen to Chaos.


Compassion is reserved for servants of the Emperor: aliens deserve only our scorn.
The Deathwatch provides voluntary military force to the Ordos Xenos. They are tasked with hunting and destroying aliens both within the Imperium and prevent incursions from outside. All of the Space Marines of the Deathwatch are volunteers, recruited from other chapters. As a sign of their background, Space Marines keep their original chapter and symbols on their right shoulder, while the rest of their armor is painted black. Those who serve their entire contract with the Deathwatch are allowed to wear the left shoulder of the Deathwatch when they return to their originating chapter.


Sanity is for the weak!
10,000 years ago, the Imperium of Man stood on the edge of a Golden Age. Mankind stretched across the galaxy, entire sectors enjoyed unimagined prosperity, and leading it all was the Emperor, the savior of humanity. But Horus, his second in command and Warmaster, had grown tired of the Emperor. Driven by visions supplied by a Chaos demon of a future in which mankind worshiped the Emperor and had cast aside the warriors which had forged his empire in battle, Horus recruited certain legions of Space Marines to stand by his side as he turned against the others in what is known as the Horus Heresy. The Heresy was the Imperium's first exposure to Chaos, the collection of evil demons and gods that live in the Warp. Horus made it all the way to Terra with his Traitor Legions, before finally being struck down in battle by the Emperor. With the death of their leader, the broken Traitor Legions retreated into the Warp. It is there to this day that they still live, now known as Chaos Marines, occasionally launching themselves into the galaxy in what is known as Black Crusades, striking against the Imperium, crying for death of the False Emperor.


The stars themselves once lived and died at our command, and yet you still oppose our will.
The Eldar are, crudely, the Elves of 40k. Tall, slender, long lived, and more adept at the arts then the crude humans, their history is one of tragedy. Long before the rise of man, the Eldar were the masters of the galaxy. Their technology remains far and above the Imperium, which is struggling to maintain the knowledge that it has. However, the Eldar grew complacent, delving their lives deeper and deeper into the pursuit of pleasure. In a great cataclysmic event, the collected consciousness of the Eldar exploded into the physical world, destroying their homeworld and many light years around it, and giving birth to the Chaos Goddess Slaanesh. However, some Eldar had seen the direction that their race was headed, and escaped Eldar space on great spaceships known as Craftworlds. It is on these Craftworlds that the Eldar still fly today. The Eldar desire a resurrection of their empire, and so are at many times at odds with the Imperium of Man. They also recognize the Chaos threat, and sometimes fight with the Space Marines or Imperial Guard. To the average human, the Eldar are mysterious and treacherous.


Death is my meat; terror my wine.
Not all Eldar are champions of returning to glory. Certain Eldar survived the fall of their Empire, but found that Slaanesh was slowly devouring their souls. Organizing into piratical raiding parties, Dark Eldar prey upon the Imperium, killing humans to drink their souls and stave away the Chaos Goddess. These Dark Eldar are twisted copies of their Eldar brethren, delighting in pain, suffering, and torture.


Orkses is never defeated in battle. If we win we win, if we die, we die, so it don't count as defeat. If we runs for it we don't die neither, so we can always come back for anuvver go, see!
Orks. Large, green, with tusks, choppas, and a terrible smell, the Orks are one of the greatest threats to the Imperium. It is only through their in-fighting that they do not overrun humanity. Orks mass attack, armed with only the most rudimentry of weapons and no more armor then the shirt on their back. Their technology continues to amaze Imperial scientists, as many of their guns and vehicles are seemingly cobbled together from whatever they can find on the battlefield, and function only when in the hands of an ork.


A thousand fibres connect each of us with our fellow Tau and along those fibres our deeds run as causes which come back to us as effects. Everything we must do must be in furtherance of the Greater Good lest we return to the Mont’au, the Terror.
The Tau are what are considered the least evil out of all the races in 40k. Led by Etherals, Tau fight for what they consider the Greater Good, trying to unite all races under a common banner. Their technology is superior to humanity, although not upon Eldar levels. Great ranged weaponry tears through opponents, but the Tau are physically weak, and rely on robotics to augment their armies. Also known as the most anime, as their armies can use giant robots.


That we, in our arrogance, believed that Humankind was first among the races of this galaxy will exposed as folly of the worst kind upon the awakening of these ancient beings. Any hopes, dreams or promises of salvation are naught but dust in the wind.
Necrons are the souls of a dead race, trapped in robot bodies controlled by their star devouring masters. The Necrons do not sleep, eat, or otherwise feel emotion. Their armies lay silent for millennium underground, awakened only to destroy the living. Necrons exist as a force against all living creatures, their tombs encased underground on worlds wholly unaware of the army that sleeps beneath them.


They are coming! I feel them scratching inside my mind, scratching, screaming, running, so many - so, so many voices. They are coming for us - flesh, body and soul!
The Tyranids are a bug like species of aliens from beyond our galaxy. They consume all in their path, converting entire planets into barren rocks. All biological matter is consumed and recycled into new warriors. Tyranids are entirely biological, evolving their limbs into armaments and launching biological weapons at enemies. Leading the Tyranids is the Hive Mind, a giant Psyonic entity capable of communicating with the massed broods.

I am a social shut-in hambeast neckbeard who doesn't wish to expose myself to the public eye by going out and supporting my local gaming store. What am I to do?
Don't fret my fiddley friend. There a few online retailers that sell WH40k items, and you can sometimes score some discount pricing as well!

SciFiGenre.com - Pretty good pricing, but limited selection
Chaos Orc - Larger selection, decent pricing
The Warstore - 20% off retail, but because of legal issues, he can't sell through his website, so you have to actually pick up the phone and call him. Nothing but good reviews from the goons.


Hooray I have an army! Now what?
Well. Paint them.

How?
Tutorials abound online.
Of particular interest for the newbie, the mutant, the heretic:

www.eternityofwar.com - Goon run. Best 40k forum on the internet.
www.bolterandchainsword.com - Space Marine focused but informative.
www.dakkadakka.com - Same as B&C but for Orks.
www.warseer.com - Pretty gay (furries and lolis ahoy!) but there might be a kernel or two of good info you can glean from it.
www.the-waaagh.com - You wanted more orks? You got more orks.
www.brushthralls.com - Not 40k specific, but good for paint and modeling technique.
TG Thread - Oh hey look goons talk about paint over in TG.

Oh noes I have done a wonderful job painting my plastic army man but this camera just does not do it justice.
I hear your lamentations. Many have tried, and few have succeeded. Here is a wonderful article about setting up a proper environment for photographing your miniatures, and the best way to set your camera to do so.

Screw the gaming, I just want to read books about this imaginary world.
For additional 40k flavor, I'd recommend turning to Wikipedia or Lexicanum and burying oneself amongst the countless articles there. If you want to dip your toes into the 40k "fluff" with a book. BUY SOMETHING BY DAN ABNETT. All the other Black Library (GW's literary imprint) writers can't measure up to him. If you buy something like The Last Chancers or the The Soul Drinkers omnibus and decide that you don't like 40k because of it, I will declare you excommunicate traitoris extremis and have your residence virus bombed.

Hey I've got a great joke about Warhams.
These guys do it better.
Grim Dorkness - Kicked off Drunk Duck, new home. Old comic, including MACRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGG here.
Turn Signals on a Land Raider - It has it's moments.

Well can I make some of my own stuff?
Sure I guess. I mean, you could-

Well that's pretty awesome how did you-

Hold on, is that anime? Did you make a-

Heh that's kind of funny I guess that's-

That is seriously screwed up the Emperor commands you to-

It comes full circle.

Much thanks to the SA Goons for making this in the first place.

Greetings, I am Breadnought, a seasoned veteran of the Master Chef Marines. Even in death, I still serve eight.


SILENCE!
THE BREADNOUGHT IS ONE OF LORD SKHONE'S MOST BLESSED WAR MACHINES! RENOUNCE THIS REQUEST FOR MEAT AND OFFER YOUR SCONES FOR HIS THRONE!

TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL! TOAST! BRAISE! GRILL!

GRILL, SPICE, COOK!
GRILL, SPICE, COOK!
GRILL, SPICE, COOK!
GRILL, SPICE, COOK!
GRILL, SPICE, COOK!

KNEAD! BAKE! EAT!

BREAD FOR THE BREAD GOD! SCONES FOR THE SCONE THRONE!

THAT IS SO MEAN YOU GUYS.

*stamp* *stamp* *stamp* *stamp* *stamp*


Dear Diary:

Today a bunch of stinky guardsmen made fun of me. They don't know how HARD it is to take Cadia. To make matters worse, I made a big speech about how we were chaos undivided and RIGHT AFTER THAT Kharn, big stupid jerk that he is, just started killing a bunch of daemonettes! He is seriously undermining my authority here and I'm gonna have a talk with him after we take Cadia.


Also Jenny, that cute daemonette, handed my book back to me when my backpack burst open after study hall


Abaddon son!

COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!
WHATS THIS I HEAR FROM THE NEIGHBORS ABOUT THIS "BLACK CRUSADE"?
13 TIMES ABADDON, 13 TIMES.
13 TIMES YOU'VE THROWN ROCKS AT THE CADIA'S WINDOWS. I HAVE TO PAY FOR THEM YOU KNOW.

MARSHA! GET MY BELT

Contrary to popular belief, Kharn the Betrayer was a pretty fun guy to be around during a blood-letting campaign. Sure, he'd get so wrapped up in the blood-lust that he'd butcher friend and foe alike but it's not like you didn't get a fair warning from his name or anything.

I served in the traitor guardsman legions known as the Red Rivers, because we got sent in first to soften up the positions and you could see our progress by the red river of our blood. I kept running into Kharn during one of the bigger scourging campaigns, and he wasn't dickish about the whole him being a space marine and me being killed by laser-lights or angry glances at all.

The first time I saw him, I was on perimeter patrol at one of our forward outposts, we'd just overrun a Sororitas non-militant chapel, and the Slaanesh boys were shirking their duty to go rape the sisters in a clearing near the chapel. I was watching from afar when Kharn strides up, cool as you like holding the largest stone pillar I've ever seen. I turned back and the whole fucking chapel was falling down. He'd just ripped the goddamn thing right out and was carrying it on his shoulders!

Then, if that wasn't insane enough he went and hefted this whole pillar through the air, and crushed the entire congregation of rape in the name of Slaanesh, defilers and victims all in one go.

I was just standing there dumbfounded when Kharn looked at me, as though noticing me for the first time and yet not surprised by my presence at all. He held his palm out, and I obliged him a high five. He'd earned it.

Damn well shattered every bone in my arm doing it though.

Nice guy that Kharn.

The second time I crossed paths with Kharn was in a later stage in the campaign. We were besieging one of the major hives of the planet, and I tell you what that place was locked up tighter than a Dark Eldar's pants. My commander, Oxlor the Vilest was stuck in an argument with some idiot leader of some group of Death Guard. You could see the smell it was so bad. I could tell Oxlor wasn't happy, since everyone knows the Death Guard's answer to everything is to just walk at it and watch your bits fly off. Not so good for us soft and squishy guys.

Out of nowhere, this big hand grabs our commander by the shoulder and just hefts him aside, three whole trenches back where he rebounds off a basilisk. The crew was so shocked they fired off a round on a horrible trajectory, and the shell streaked high into the sky.

Kharn the Betrayer just himself dusts himself down, and then picks back up what he had been holding. Now, I'm no techpriest and I never will be, but I know a nuclear warhead when I see it. I don't know where he got it.

No one says anything, so The Betrayer just punches the Plague marine in the face, and stuffs the warhead into the leaking mess of his stomach while he was still reeling.

No run up, no preparation. He just fucking throws the other marine into the air at the hive. For a moment it actually looks like he's thrown the warp-damned fool OVER the hive, but as he flies over the top the basilisk shell comes down and spears him through the whole hive! There's a low boom noise, the ground shakes, and then the whole hive IMPLODES!

Everything clears, and Kharn looks at me, and I feel about one foot tall. I don't know if he recognised me, but he leans down and whispers. Kharn WHISPERS to me.

"I was trying to hit the Emperor's Children on the other side" he confides in me, and then nudges me as though it's supposed to be our little secret.

I was in traction for a MONTH

As I always say, Kharn the Betrayer was pretty fun to be around, and contrary to popular belief he actually had a sense of humour as well. Probably the best example was in the middle of the campaign during a sweeping of an Imperial Guard command post, with Khorne Berserkers and our Red Rivers company marching directly into the defensive fire. The closer we got, the more apparent it became that the only thing holding the Guardsmen together was a grizzled looking Commissar in full uniform, one gun turned on us and another firing on any of his men who looked like running.

Kharn was at the tip of the assault, and so he got to the Commissar first, plucking the screaming officer up by the neck and holding him over his head.

Then, out of nowhere one of the other berserkers grabs the Commissar's legs and roars "MAKE A WISH!". Well, as you can imagine everyone on both sides forgets about the fight, and watches Kharn and this other Khorne worshipping marine just start pulling on this Commissar at both ends, the old man screaming out oaths and curses like you wouldn't believe! You could almost hear the sound of flesh tearing and bone snapping over the cheering.

Then, Kharn just let go. Totally not expecting it and pulling with all his might, the Khorne Berserker just falls backwards and starts tumbling with the near dead Commissar into a damaged hellhound, his armour grating off it and sparking!

Well, after the explosion we all turned back to Kharn, who had managed to keep a hold of the Commissar's fancy hat. Ol' Kharn put it on, and damned if it wasn't the funniest thing any of us had ever seen... till he turned to us and bellowed "I'M THE NEW COMMISSAR" at us.

They tell me five thousand traitor guardsmen died that day before someone could take that hat off him.

What a kidder!

I've been fairly insistent to you readers out there that Kharn the Betrayer was a pretty fun guy to be around. I know he gets a bad rap for the whole 'slaughtering his own allies' thing, but unless you've been there after a battle with him you don't really appreciate how much he strives to please his chaos god.

It was after one of our many conflicts that the Red Rivers Infantry were preparing to march on to our next destination. Nevermind that it was half the planet away, we as traitor guard didn't get transport vehicles. So as you can imagine when someone declared they'd found an Imperial Drop-ship in working condition everyone clamoured and fought to get a free ride to our next engagement.

Knowing full well I was too far away to get on the ship, I stayed with some of my fellow traitors at the battlefield. I'd seen Kharn after the battle, and as soon as we'd gotten our marching orders he was picking up corpses and putting them down elsewhere. This took an hour before he was satisfied, and seeing an audience he happily led us up onto a hill as the drop-ship flew a pass over the top of us, probably to gloat. Proudly, Kharn gestured to the battlefield, and then waved up at the drop-ship with his other hand. I peered down the hill, and realized he'd arranged the bodies to make out words, so many killed to form:

On your drop ship hull
I planted a melta bomb
Blood for the Blood God

It was at that point the drop-ship erupted in a violent plume, and crashed down on top of the haiku. Roaring in a cheer, we lifted Kharn up together and made to carry him to the next battlefield as a sign of our appreciation and devotion to his art.

We got about five paces before our spines liquefied but Kharn didn't hold it against us for trying.

Seriously, what a guy.

So, Eldrad Ulthran is a dick. It seems shocking to hear and I know he is the guiding light of our people, but in all honestly, he's a total dick.
I know this because I served with him. You see, I am a Warlock. You can imagine my excitement when I was first assigned to his retinue. I took no heed to the fact his last set of Warlocks supposedly died in "a most ironic manner". I was young back then, only 19 000, and naive.

As soon as I met Eldrad in person he gave me my first order: "find a howling banshee exarch, and a witch blade for yourself, we are going to Setrus Prime (as the monkeigh called it)." He actually said the parenthesis by leaning forward and placing a hand beside his mouth to direct his voice to me alone. He is kind of a douche that way, we were in the room alone.

Anyway, Eldrad, the banshee exarch and I sortie to the planet's surface. I project some illusionary cover to shield our hiding spot and the exarch and I await more orders. Before us a great battle is being waged between a force of the monkeigh Space Marines and our fallen brethren, the Dark Eldar. About 20 minutes into the battle Eldrad points to a pebble by his foot and says "Move this small stone to where I am pointing now." He points to an innocuous patch of ground. Dumbfounded but trusting, I do as he says.

No sooner had I reached cover did a Space Marine bike roar past me, straight over the pebble. The mighty treads of the bike's wheels fling the pebble up into an empty stretch of air. It hangs there for a moment, then a Dark Eldar reaver rushes into it, the pebble sucked into its jet intake. The reaver sputters then bursts into flames, accelerating rapidly, right into a Talos. The Talos was not of regular design, not that any ever are. This one was a mass of spinning blades with a screaming humanoid in its center, the body of which was too mutilated to even identify its race.

I might mention at this point that Eldrad has not turned to look at the ensuing chaos, instead he is staring in the direction of myself and our howling banshee companion.

When the reaver hit the talos, all hell broke loose as the twirling saws of the unsavory machine broke free like angry daemons being exorcised. I saw one blade, bouncing and racing directly towards us at ludicrous speeds. And I am an Eldar, I know speed. I brace my witch blade for the impact readying myself to take the blow, to save the farseer in my protection. The blades hit and both the saw and the witch blade veer off directly towards the banshee exarch. Both blades merely graze her, just deep enough to cut the restraints that hold her costume on. As her armour falls away exposing her breasts, I realize why Eldrad was staring at her. He giggles, then orders a full retreat.

What a dick.

So Eldrad is a huge dick, but I think I have proven that by now. What I haven't told you is that he is, without a doubt, the greatest psyker in the universe.

I never saw this more exemplified than when we went to deal with a splinter fleet of Hive Fleet Leviathan. The first thing Eldrad did was use his massive reservoir of power to redirect the entire hive fleet 0.3 degrees off course. At first we had no idea why, but he assured us there was a reason. 134 years later we encountered the swarm again, and now we saw his plan, the fleet was heading straight into a desolate backwater planet. Using yet more of his might, Eldrad hid the entire planet from the fleet's sight. This caused the entire hive fleet to crash square into the planet's surface. He then called for me and the rest of his retinue to sortie down to the planet, we had a mission.

Once on the surface the bleeding husks of charred hive ships loomed over us like cold organic volcanoes. And then in a clearing, we found our quarry, a mighty hive tyrant, its psychic eminence clouding my own mind like a thick whispering fog. Eldrad was not taken aback in the slightest, he stepped forward, unarmed, right into the clutches of the hive tyrant. He then began to emulate the hive tyrant's psychic powers, only at a much higher magnitude. He had made himself into a synapse creature of immense power. So much so he brow beat the mighty tyranid into submission. He then turned to us, tyranid leader in tow, and said, we are returning, we have what we came for.

Although impressed by Eldrad's mastery of the mind, we all could not stop pondering his master plan. Why would he need such a mighty beast? It was not till the next morning that I knew. Pasted throughout the ENTIRE CRAFTWORLD were pictures of the titanic monstrosity and its ..... titanic monstrosity resting on my face as I slept. I never even knew tyranids had genitalia.

What a dick.

You know, Eldrad Ulthran really is a dick. I've said it before, and I have absolutely no doubt that I will say it again. He has skill and power of heights that are only reachable, even for most Eldar, in their dreams, and how does he use them? He uses them like this:

Years ago, a minor Ork Waaagh sprung up and launched itself against the Mon Keigh world they call Lentak II. It's an insigificant planet by any definition except, apparently, Eldrad's. He summoned me and told me we were going to Lentak, and that it was of the utmost importance to see that a certain battle took a particular course. He also told me to bring along the best sniper I could find, adding that "He might come in handy," with a wink like he was passing on some kind of secret message. Typical Eldrad behavior, that.

So, we get down to the surface of Lentak and locate the "important" battle, in a rocky pass high up in a mountain range. Eldrad isn't wearing his helmet, the better to display the horribly annoying half-smile that's on his face the whole time, the one he puts on when he knows something you don't and is about to use that information. I'm busy projecting an illusion to keep Mon Keigh and the Orks from noticing us, Eldrad and the sniper are just watching the battle from the rock outcrop where we're standing. Finally, Eldrad points at a particular Ork nob riding in the back of one of their wartrukks.

"That one. Take off his ear. His *left* ear. Right...now."

The sniper fires, cleanly severing the Ork's ear. The thing roars like the beast it is, looks around, and smacks the Ork beside it right off the back of the bouncing vehicle. The fallen Ork doesn't even have time to stop rolling before it gets run over by another Ork on a warbike; the bike nearly crashes, and one of the bombs sitting in a rack near the back bounces loose and falls to the ground. Eldrad looks at it, nods in satisfaction, and motions for us to leave.

Five of the Mon Keigh years pass. Five blessed, beloved years, in which I do not hear nor see Eldrad a single time. I don't know where he was, or what he does when he's not busy being a dick; probably off seducing Tau or members of whatever other young race has caught his fancy recently. Anyway, those five years pass all too quickly, and then Eldrad comes back, contacts me, and tells me we're going back to Lentak II, just the two of us. This, of course, sets my teeth on edge, because I know he's going to do something unbearably dickish, but I can't exactly refuse the most important Farseer of my Craftworld.

Sure enough, we wind up back in that same mountain pass, watching a column of Imperial Guard troops march past. This time, we're down at roughly the same level as the guardsmen, but since there are only two of us, it's easy for me to project sufficient camouflage. Good thing, because Eldrad sure wasn't helping. I notice that the wreckage from the battle years ago hasn't been completely cleaned; some has been pushed up against the walls of the pass, some hasn't.

I belatedly remember the fallen bomb and start to look for it, but before I can spot it, a Chimera with a commissar riding in its open hatch finds it on its own. The explosion bounces the vehicle into the air, and the unsecured commissar goes flying. Shrapnel flies towards us and I dodge, rolling across the ground to avoid the splintered metal.

When I look up, I see Eldrad, standing with the sunrise behind him, posed like a statue with his head high and his fists on his hips. An instant later, the commissar's hat lands right on his head. And Eldrad, the dick, holds the pose and smirks at me. I almost dropped the illusion and let the Mon Keigh kill us both, but then I realized Eldrad would probably have some way of escaping even that.

Never in my nearly twenty thousand years of life have I met a bigger dick than Eldrad Ulthran.

So, I've already told you about how Eldrad Ulthran is a dick. You've heard it all, all the sad stories...except, of course, you haven't, because Eldrad constantly generates more indignities to pile upon me. I thought he'd give me a break after the incident Tissalk Secunda; he really went too far on that one, and after they finally stopped laughing, the rest of the expeditionary force were giving him some funny looks. I thought he wouldn't anything else so soon. I was wrong.

With the Grey Ones rising again to wage war against all life, many of our priorities have been shifted to meet this resurgent threat. Thus, when Eldrad said he was working on a project and needed the body of a Necron warrior, everyone assumed he meant it was for research into some kind of weapon to use against them. Under any other circumstances, getting the order from Eldrad to gather a raiding group together would have filled me with fear that I was going to be the butt of another joke, but even Eldrad has to be serious where the ancient enemy is concerned...right?

Besides, to be honest, I was too busy being afraid of the Grey Ones to worry about whatever dickish maneuver Eldrad must be planning. I've faced the Mon Keigh, the Orks, our fallen brethren, and the horrors of the Warp, and such foes do not frighten me, but the soulless enemy does. They're so...cold. Nevertheless, let it not be said that I did not do my duty when called upon.

We flew almost to the edge of the galaxy; myself, my handpicked force, and Eldrad, who actually acted professionally during the long transit. I kept glancing over my shoulder, literally and metaphorically, expecting his true nature to assert itself, but we reached the tomb world without incident. We landed on that ancient soil, and all my senses were screaming at me to get back in the ship and get away, back to Ulthwe and (relative) safety. But we went further. We went down into a tomb, Eldrad opening the way for us.

Down in that darkness, I was more scared than I ever had been in my whole life, all 19,872 years of it; this was one of the most nerve-wracking (if not THE most nerve-wracking) tasks I'd ever been given as a member of Eldrad's retinue. Eldrad had a device with him, a band of wraithbone he claimed had taken him nearly a year to create; he told us that it would keep a Necron in stasis, regardless of what transpired. He also said that our presence wouldn't wake the tomb world; I just had to cling tight to my staff and pray that he was right. Naturally, Eldrad being Eldrad, we couldn't just grab the warrior closest to the entrance and run for it; we had to find the "right" one, which meant walking for nearly an hour into the tomb's depths before he finally selected one identical to every other warrior and locked the band around its head.

By the time we get back to the surface, which took even longer than going in because we dropped that heavy Necron no less than four times on the way back, I'm a bundle of nerves, and it only gets worse during the flight. I can't sleep inside our little ship, knowing that soulless killing machine is onboard with us, knowing about the wars that they fought against our ancestors, and what kind of deaths the Eldar in those days met. It keeps running through my head that it's almost my birthday, that I'll soon be turning 19,873, and that I don't want to get snuffed out before I hit the twenty-thousand-year mark. That's no way for an Eldar to go.

The ship arrives back at Ulthwe the day before my birthday. Eldrad, grinning enigmatically, heads off to his workshop with the Necron, and I stumble up to my cozy dwelling bubble and fall straight into bed, still wearing the same warlock robes I've been wearing since the tomb world. Yes, it was nasty, like something a Mon Keigh would do. I was so tired I didn't care. If that Necron wanted to get me, it'd have to fight through half of Ulthwe to reach me, coming from Eldrad's bubble complex. I slept at last.

Not that it helped much. In my dreams, I'm back in the tomb, with Grey Ones rising to life around me. I run, but I'm trapped; I try to fight, and I get torn into bleeding shreds. I wake up, feeling barely better than when I got off the mission ship, and realize that it's my birthday. Congratulations, self. Outside my bubble, I can sense the collected presence of family and friends, come to wish me success in my new year. Well, you only turn 19,873 once, so I drag myself out of bed, toss my grimy robes aside, and head for the shower; I figure a little session there should revive me enough to at least face my well-wishers graciously. I step through the bathroom door, pull back the shower curtain, and the Necron is in my shower cubicle.

THE NECRON IS IN MY SHOWER CUBICLE. Poised as if to strike, hands raised and clawed metal fingers spread - that memory is one I shall carry to the end of time.

I do the worst thing I possibly could. I panic. I scream at the top of my lungs and run headlong...out of the bathroom...out of my dwelling bubble...and come face-to-face with my birthday crowd. While wearing my "birthday suit," just like a scene from an embarrassing nightmare. There's a moment in which everyone goes silent - everyone except Eldrad, standing off to one side, his snickering audible to all.

I suspect that they'll still be talking about this when I turn 20,000. Thanks, Eldrad. Way to ruin my birthday.

What a dick.

Armageddon. The name of that hellish excuse for a solar system will make any guardsman with a lick of sense shudder. Well my friends, I have a story to tell about Armageddon. Specifically, that men of men, our dear Commissar Yarrick.

It was the first war of Armageddon, in the infamous Hades Hive. That damned greenskin Ugulhard had been pressing us bad, wave after wave of the big, dumb, green brutes had been smashing up against the cathedral my company and Yarrick himself had been holed up in. The Commissar had lost his arm to a stray shot from a big shoota earlier in the day, and just about everyone else had a hole in them somewhere.

Then, just as things were at their bleakest, the man himself strides up to the front line , orders a ceasefire, and then promptly yells into the voxspeaker he had been carrying with him: “WARLORD UGULHARD IS A BLOODY STUPID EXCUSE FOR AN ORK AND THAT A LOUSY GRETCHIN COULD BEAT HIM IN A SQUIG EATING MATCH!”

For a moment, there was nothing but shocked silence as the Orks stopped dead in their tracks and stared dumbly at Yarrick. The quiet was broken by the loudest voice I had ever heard roaring “WOT SON OF A STINKIN’ GROT LICKIN’ ‘ARF BRAINED FRAGGIN’ GIT SED DAT!?”. Orks began flying through the air and the largest Nob I had ever seen emerged from the masses towards the edge of the mob. Without batting an eyelid, Yarrick pointed to the poor guardsman on his left and said plainly, “He did.” Ugulhard let out a deafening cry of “WAAAGH!” rushed up to the unfortunate sap and began strangling him with his huge hands. The Commissar, still completely calm, unsheathed his chainsword and neatly lopped off the preoccupied Warlord’s head. The rest of the Orks were dumbfounded for a moment more, then turned around and wandered out of the Hive, mumbling things like “..dat’s one ‘ard ‘umie…”, and “..never loiked dat git Ugulhard anywayz..”

After the battle, I started hearing a story from people outside my company about how Yarrick had faced down Ugulhard one on one, losing his arm but cutting off the Warlord’s head and fighting off the rest of the Orks alone using his own Power Klaw. I wouldn’t be surprised if Yarrick himself was the one who started that rumor.

Another Kharne story for the awesomeness it shows:

All was silent on Buckle V, but though welcomed by the beleaguered Imperial defenders, they could not help but fear the renegade force that assailed them was merely waiting for a new chance to attack. Ten long months of fighting had brought them to this point, but the day to come they were not expecting.

As dawn rose over one side of the planet, a radio began to buzz and play some easy listening music. After a few bars of "The Emperor is Great" from the local lines a large fist punched through the radio and knocked it out a wall.

Leaping to his feet, Kharn the Betrayer threw his arms in the air and yelled out to anyone nearby (which was no one, as everyone was terrified of him).

"TODAY'S MY DAY OFF!!!!"

Excited at his allotted day of freedom Kharn cleaved through a section of wall next to the doorway, and ran out of the bunker he'd captured the day before. Today he was going to have FUN.

Grox Farmer Berk awoke to a commotion. Staggering out of his quarters he stared out at his field of lobotomised dinosaur cattle, all ten thousand on their backs with their legs and stumpy arms wiggling in the air. The cud he'd been chewing fell from his open mouth.

Someone had tipped all his Grox.

The day would only get better from there.


Amongst the forces of Chaos a cabal of sorcerers stood about a symbol of Tzeentch carved in the ground with the bones of the pious, overlayed with their flayed skin, blessed with their blood. The skies above darkened in a foreboding manner, and the ritual began.

"With the thousand keys of Tzeentch we unbind... we entwine ourselves with the threads of fate he spins endlessly..." the head sorcerer began to chant as his hands stretched over the symbol, his hands burning with warp-fire. Each sorcerer else joined the chant out of synch, many voices with subtle differences. This was one of the most powerful summoning rituals they could muster, with it they would claim another world to chaos permanently. Nothing could stop them.

"IT'S MY DAY OFF!" Kharn yelled, mighty meaty hands shoving the back of the Sorcerer with the force of an out of control Leman Russ, toppling the renegade into the symbol, smearing it and ruining its arrangement.

There was a moment where the chanting held in spite of the intrusion, but then a great sound issued forth over the assemblage. All across the planet the sound of a record scratching abruptly was heard.

"... well I don't think he was expecting that one" one of the sorcerer's said, before his head was exploded for his insolence by his dark god.


The Imperial Lines were impressive, arrayed against an enemy whom without doubt were fearsome beyond belief. All the best weapons, all the best tanks, all the best vantage points. Commander Acturius of the Imperial Guard force on Buckle V stood ready and waiting.

Acturius had sent a scouting force ahead, a small unit to relay the enemy positions in the hope of bombarding them into oblivion. No word had come yet, as was the mission parameters. But now it was time.

"Status?"

The response was loud and crackling, and Acturius had to pull his comm from his ear.

"READY. CO-ORDINATES LOGGED. PREPARE TO FIRE"

And so it began. A range, a sight, a shot. Basilisk guns roaring the Emperor's name as shells rained down upon the far mountainside. The force must truly have been concentrated, for the calls kept coming until nearly all the artillery ammo was spent.

Finally the calls stopped coming in, and Acturius looked to the mountainside through his binoculars. Smoking craters lined the earth, no sign of the chaos forces that they had been aiming for.

It took a moment for the Commander to realize they had spelled out something with the shots.

"IT'S MY DAY OFF"

So, who's interested in maybe playing some/getting involved? I've got a small but growing army of Imperial Guardsmen ( ) and no one to play with. If you are interested the websites above are a good starting point and you can contact me for a copy of the rules for the game and the codex for the army(ies) you'd be interested in.

I'm gonna be going IG but I need to learn more about the rules and stuff, and get a few ideas first.

There were victory celebrations, that much I can remember. The sort of debased, bottom-scraping indulgences they never let us have back before we became traitors. The alcohol flowed, and if some guy or girl in the Rivers strayed too far from a group they usually disappeared. Then the blood and other body fluids flowed.

I woke up on some busted old bed in the remains of what was the Planetary Governor's palace, some of my blood-and-filth encrusted clothes half-draped out a nearby window. My head was ringing and as I groaned and rolled to my left, I came eye to eye with what I thought was one of those Sororitas. For a moment my heart skipped a few beats, and I damn near made a mess of the sheets.

It all came back slowly. She was one of those holy ladies once, but she realized she liked burning and cutting things more than actually praying. Now she was just like me, only with more tattoos to Khorne and a rusty nail put through her lip.

"Hey there beast" that fallen lady grinned, before kissing me on the cheek and giving me a big ol' scar in the process with her 'jewellery', "You guys were phenomenal"

"'You guys'?" I groaned out, whilst rubbing my cheek. It was then I became aware of a shuffling behind me, and hurriedly I rolled over.

There was Khârn, still in full armour, reading a newspaper that was a week old, a cigarette jammed in his helmet's respirator.

"Heck of a lay" the fallen sister remarked.



So I roll out of the bunk and try to stand, which is difficult because at this point my pelvis is like so much gravel. So of course I fall over and Kharn gets a big laugh out of it, not being a dick about it or anything, just laughing so hard that the cigarettes jammed into his helmet's grille shoot across the room.

Nice thing about being shot through the arm with a cigarette is that aside from the ash it's essentially a self healing wound.

Anyway, so as I'm stumbling across the room to find some tweezers so I can pull Kharn's cigarette butt out of my bicep I nearly slip on an Imperial issue rubber. i figure it's gotta be mine but when I go to pick it up Kharn grunts, points to a tied off trash bag over in the corner and jerks his thumb at the door.

So I hall my jacket and the trash bag outside. Thing must have weighed a good 40 pounds. Always a little tidy I opened up the bag to toss in my rubber and be done with it.

The Rivers medic at the time couldn't tell me how exactly those nurglings got into the bag, only that I probably should have guessed that Kharn uses double reinforced trash sacks as condoms before I opened the damned thing. Popular theory is that they weren't even nurglings, just Ol' Kharn's sperm spoiling for a fight as soon as they got out.

Sure enough the big Red Guy came in through the back wall of he infirmary a couple days later. Shook my hand and told me how sorry he was about the whole thing. It does the Rivers medics real credit that they managed to reattach my arm so quickly. That Kharn, he's a heck of a guy...