#crackhammer

[a-song-of-what-will-be]

So late night Heresy sessions are good... there is now talk of our Psyker adopting a Tau Fire Warrior... who hums his own theme music...

[a-song-of-what-will-be]

... I have decided... we should film our Dark Heresy sessions... but half of it would be incomprehensible, and the other half would be rated R and not suitable for any people's consumption.

[tinypsyker]

Short thing about Alexei and his bear

It was the lull that always got to him. The silence that fell after the last resistance had been quietened, the last enemy slain. It held the weight of the moment upon it's shoulderss until the sigh of extraction washed it away, along with any memory or worth the battleground might have held. To this end, a lone warrior rose to his feet, from a crouched repose beside one of his fallen bretheren. He was no Apothecary, there was nothing he could do for the dying or dead but say a few words. He was a simple Battle-Brother of the Legiones Astartes, a Blood Angel, and his mission was over upon these dying wastes of scorched earth. Though the blood still seeped from mangled corpses and near fresh kills he had to walk on, to reach extraction and regroup with his squad. This was what he must do. That was easy, pre-programmed. A few blink clicks in his damaged visor display gave him heading, but his left eye felt stiff, sore. It was no matter, for he hardly cared for the injuries he had suffered during the battle past, for the slaying of the traitorous legions of chaos was far more in precident. Walk forward, one foot before the other, a slow plod by any Astartes standards. The habitations lay in ruins before him, burned out and cratered with heavy weapons fire, not their work. His face itched. Static buzzed over his vision, a fault in his helm, and it was logical, take the helm of for clear sighting. The hiss of pressure was almost deafening in the silence, the scorched ceremite protesting on half melted latches. It came free in the end, and air carressed raw skin like salt to the wound as dead skin sloughed from his face. It slid down to sit in dip of gorget and pauldron, meaty and wet before sliding free to land in the dirt. He kept walking, chemicals taking the edge off the pain as they had been for hours. Through the burned out wreckage, one foot before the other. His bolter was gone, lost in the heat of battle. Had it been knocked from his hands? Had it fallen to an enemies weapon? Had the ammo simply been spent? It was curious he could not recall such a thing, that was negligance. He supposed a reprimand was in order. He could hear the roar of landing craft in the distance, the extraction point. He should make haste, there would be no second chances. Though he could spy something in the rubble before him, something that made him stop. It was charred, burned along one side and mangled by neglect, but its form was clear. A bear. Though it hardly occured to him how he knew it was a bear, perhaps feint memories of a youth stolen by suitable genetics. Perhaps that was what made him stop for the briefest moment, and regard the stuffed toy with such interest. It was a large toy, big enough to dwarf the child whom had owned it, and he found himself leaning down to grasp it in one hand, dust and burned fur falling from it in a whril of debris. A thought came unbidden to him, something that struck a note somehow. This was precious to someone. "It should be again" he spoke, softly as if not to disturb the post battle lull He continued on, one fut before the other with the bear in his grasp, occasionally looking to it in confusion as to why he had picked up so unimportant an object. It was inportant, though, it was his now and with it he carried the memories of the one who had held it before him. Like any sacred weapon or honour helm, this was something precious. The extraction point lay before him, brothers embarking on the final journey from this burned shell of a world to await the next battle, the next enemy, as they all did. Brother Alexei embarked as one of the last, and kept the bear still tightly held in his grasp.

[tinypsyker]

From a little thing today with the furball. It's storytime with Bjorn! :D

[tinypsyker]

Spess Pups marching two by two

Hurrah, Hurrah, Slaughtering Daemons cause they do Hurrah! Hurrah! Call Black Templars in for support Cause there were more Daemons then they thought Then they all go marching Back to space again.

[tinypsyker]

D No but really I think Ante was trying to call up Faleep (her cool as balls psyker friend) and the like, psychic lines got crossed.

So she’s all “AGRDHV DAEMON NAMES OH NO AND DAS GUARDSMAN IS DEAD WHAT DO”

And Ahriman is on the other end going “Who in the warp is this”

"Ante..is this Faleep..this isn’t him is it ahhhh who is this"

"Azhek Ahriman"

"Never heard of you what is going on ahh get out of my mind speech"

Then he gets all huffy and puffy and responds like

"kiss your haunches, sanity and humanity goodbye you know nothing little psyker"

Suddenly the link is severed, and Kastor asks Ante if she’s ok, and if she contacted Faleep and she’s like

"No, there was this mean person.." and wibbles a little.