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Doom

2021-03-05T01:28:01Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D: /* DOOM Eternal */

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[[File:Doom cover poster.jpeg|thumb|If you don't already have the first level's music in your head, you may be on the wrong site.]]
{{topquote|Over the centuries, mankind has tried many ways of combating the forces of evil... prayer, fasting, good works and so on. Up until Doom, no one seemed to have thought about the double-barrel shotgun. Eat leaden death, demon...|[[Discworld|Terry Pratchett]]}}

The father of the first-person shooter, the original ass-kicking demon-slaying 3D slaughter-fest, '''''Doom''''' is a franchise that demands respect even in the hallowed halls of /tg/. It was actually inspired by a [[Dungeons & Dragons]] campaign played by the founders of id Software; John Romero had given a demon lord the key to overrunning the material plane in exchange for a magic [[Katanas are Underpowered in d20|katana]] because he's an edgy little bitch like that, and John Carmack (the DM) decided it made a good premise for their new 3D game. The katana in question would later be used in Romero's game ''Daikatana'', which was a total failure for reasons that aren't important enough to go over right now.

The plot? In an FPS? Here's your plot: you are a Space Marine (no, not the 40K guy, a jumped-up soldier who is sent to fight on other planets, so closer to the [[Imperial Guard]]...though considering recent events he may be the equivalent of a standard Astartes, just much shorter.) stationed on Phobos. Somehow, demons broke through into our reality and slaughter everyone else. Your job? Fight your way to where, you hope, there's a ride off of this rock, and make bloody mincemeat out of everything standing between you and salvation. Standing in your way are armies of zombified fellow marines and eggheads, fireball-tossing imps, hulking flesh-eating demons, cyborg-demon monstrosities, and various other hell-spawned nasties who want to kill you horribly. Good luck. You'll need it...

Although not the very ''first'' of the FPS genre (even its predecessor, [[Wolfenstein]] 3D, wasn't the first, as the history of the genre goes back all the way into the '70s), Doom was definitive to the genre, so much so that "Doom Clone" was the standard nickname for many years afterwards. People are still playing it and making it even more awesome with [[Homebrew|their own custom modifications]] 24 years later, which isn't something you hear that often outside of /tg/; this is one of the main reasons why the franchise is so well-respected.

Fun fact: that iconic Doom monster, the Cacodemon, was actually inspired by the artwork for an Astral Dreadnought on the cover of the [[Dungeons & Dragons]] 1st edition [[Manual of the Planes]] splatbook. Also relevant to /tg/ is that Sandy Petersen, co-designer of [[Ghostbusters RPG]], creator of [[Call of Cthulhu]], and author of some [[RuneQuest]] stuff, worked on the game. He designed some levels (more in the sequel) and made some contributions to the monster design.

==Classic DOOM (aka The Good Shit)==
{{topquote|Welcome to DOOM, a lightning-fast virtual reality adventure where you're the toughest space trooper ever to suck vacuum. Your mission is to shoot your way through a monster-infested holocaust. Living to tell the tale if possible.|README.TXT, Doom 1.8 shareware}}
The original Doom was fast-paced and bloody compared to what came before but wasn't afraid to vary the pace with more labyrinthine levels or make you shit your pants by dropping you into a crowd of demons when you least expected it. (Fun fact No. 2: The extra levels included in the physical version of Doom (henceforth called ''Ultimate Doom'') were built by the same guy who wrote [[Call of Cthulhu]] in just 10 weeks.) Doom II on the other hand was a circle-strafing explosion-rich gorefest and is what basically everyone thinks of when they think of both Doom and 90s FPS gameplay in general. The plot was bare-minimum: Demons took over Phobos and ate Deimos, kill them all. Or, in Doom 2's case, Demons are trying to infest Earth in revenge, kill them all AGAIN. But this time, ''it's personal''. (No, seriously, they killed your pet bunny Daisy.) The Doom engine is extremely mod-friendly for a 90's game (as both Carmack and Romero had been big into software tinkering in their day) and the modding community is still very present and perhaps even more prolific than it was back in the day. In fact, id Software actually paid some modding groups for the right to sell their works as retail (Final Doom and the Master Levels for Doom 2). Also relevant is SIGIL, John Romero's own 25th-anniversary level-pack and unofficial Episode 5 for Doom 1 that he released to the public for free (unless you wanted the special Buckethead soundtrack for [[Edgy|$6.66 USD]]).

Slightly more obscure but still relevant is Doom 64, which replaced the high-speed Explode-o-Rama with a stronger horror theme and more deliberate pace.

id Software then for a time turned toward more multiplayer-oriented games with the ''Quake'' franchise and gave Doom a well-earned rest.

===The Doom Comic===
{{topquote|'''DYNAMITE! I'M COOKING WITH GAS! I'VE GOTTA HANDFUL OF VERTEBRAE AND A HEADFUL OF MAD! YEAH, THAT'S YOUR SPINAL CORD, BABY! DIG IT!'''|You, the moment you read that heading}}
The origin of [[Rip and Tear]]. Possibly the most ridiculously, amazingly, stupidly 90's thing that has ever been put to paper with the possible exception of Image Comics. It has to be read to be believed. [https://www.doomworld.com/10years/doomcomic/ So go read it.]

===Monsters===
[[File:Reaperminis.jpg|thumb|right|Limited-edition monster minis from [[Reaper Miniatures]]. Admit it, you want <s>that Cyberdemon</s> all of them for your Daemons of Chaos army.]]
These are the monsters you'll encounter in Doom 1, Doom 2 and their spinoffs.
*'''[[Zombie|Former human]]''': Wet toilet paper. Only dangerous until you get a shotgun.
**'''Former Sergeant''': Still wet toilet paper, but full of broken glass; if one of these assholes gets behind you before you find armor you're probably dead. Likely to be your first source for shotguns.
**'''Former Commando''': Unlike the other formers, this guy is no joke: he's durable enough to not die when breathed on and his hitscan chaingun is almost as powerful as yours. Using hordes of these guys in an open arena with no cover is the pinnacle of dick moves in Doom mapping.
*'''Imp''': The first true demon you encounter with an easy-to-dodge projectile and more health than the formers. The first meaningful enemy you meet, and runner-up for most iconic non-boss monster.
*'''Demon''': Otherwise known as '''Pinkies'''. Giant hairless gorilla with a mouth that could give a [[squig]] lessons in eating. [[Derp|They can't walk and bite at the same time]] so you can just step out of their way, but they tend to come in large groups and dance around like spastic toddlers (which makes them harder to shoot) as they run up to you.
**'''Spectre''': Demon with Predator-style optic camo. An absolute bitch to deal with in dark environments, which is naturally where you find them.
*'''Cacodemon''': Mr. [[Astral Dreadnought]] Head. These fuckers can fly and you can't look up, so have fun fighting them in close quarters where they can float out of your field of view. Dangerous, but get a rapid-fire weapon and they become a joke as you stunlock them until they are all dead. ''The'' most iconic non-boss monster, partially because of its sheer WTFery but mostly because of how easy it is to chibi/make plushies out of.
**'''Pain Elemental''': [[Meme|Meatball demon.]] Like a cacodemon, but instead of shooting fireballs, it shoots Lost Souls. Has the opposite problem to the pinkies in that [[Derp|you can stand in front of its face]] and prevent the lost souls from spawning.
*'''Lost Soul''': Floating flaming skulls that fly at you at approximately SANIC miles per hour. Fairly weak, but very fast and has a habit of nibbling at you while you focus on something more dangerous.
*'''Revenant''': [[Meme|Agitating skeleton aka '''DOOT'''.]] One of the few monsters that moves anywhere near as fast as you do, plus he runs up and tries to punch your head off if you move inside the minimum range of the homing rockets he shoots. It is a fact that any given Doom map is automatically casuals-only unless the mapper adds at least 100 revenants.
*'''Mancubus''': [[Festus the Leechlord|HELLO I'M FUCKING FAT.]] Slow, but very tanky, and he has dual [[Flamer|heavy flamers]] for arms that hurt like hell. Fortunately, this also applies to any nearby demons, so you can make them kill each other for your amusement just by standing between a mancubus and another monster.
*'''Arch-vile''': One of the few monsters that that's faster than the player at a full run. Sets you on fire [[Psyker|with its mind]] and revives any monsters it comes across so you have to kill them all over again. Meeting one of these guys in a slaughtermap will make you [[Khorne|hate everything forever.]]
*'''Hell Knight''': Now we're talking. [[Space Marine]] sized and equipped with a punch and moderate projectile attacks (fireballs). Shooting him in the face with a shotgun will kill him pretty quickly.
**'''Baron of Hell''': Super hell knight with double the health. Big and equipped with nasty melee and projectile attacks. Shooting ''him'' in the face with a shotgun just '''pisses him off'''. Super shotguns will work though. Probably the best-known Barons are the "Bruiser Bros", the pair of Barons you fight as the bosses of the first episode.
*'''Cyberdemon''': [[Rip and tear|Is huge, and therefore has huge guts.]] Basically a (Chaos possessed?) Carnifex with a rocket launcher for an arm, and significantly faster than he looks. Without a doubt the fuckingest monster in the classic game, and practically tailor-made for soaking up BFG shots.
*'''Spider Mastermind''': Doom 1’s final boss, [[Derp|despite being inferior in almost every way to the Cyberdemon you fight earlier.]] Go figure. Even more XBOX HUEG than the Cyberdemon, but has a super-chaingun instead of a rocket launcher and refuses to let up until either you or it are dead. Has the critical weakness of BFG shots up the ass due to the way its hugeness interacts with the mechanics of the classic BFG.
**'''Arachnotron''': Babby Masterminds that go fast and shit plasma at you.
*'''The Icon of Sin''': Doom 2's final boss. [[FAIL|A wall with a demon face on it]] and a hole in its forehead that serves as its weak point. Spawns monsters to attack you, but dies pretty quickly from a few well-aimed rockets... though, you need good timing to shoot them through the hole in its head. You probably know this, but the entity that takes damage is John Romero's severed head on a pole.

===Weapons===
{{topquote|I do need a gun. I need a big gun. I need a really big gun...|Doomguy, Doom comic}}
Doomguy himself has about as much personality as your average [[Adventurer|Murderhobo]], so the game's real main characters are the weapons.
*'''Fists''': Only good at punching through the above-mentioned wet toilet paper, and complete suicide to use on anything stronger than an Imp. [[Rip and tear|Should you find a Berserk pack, though...]]
**'''[[Chain Weapon|Chainsaw]]''': [[Meme|The great communicator.]] Stronger than your fists and capable of tearing through Cacodemons and below without much problem.
*'''Pistol''': You start the game with this and 50 bullets. Gets overshadowed by every single other weapon.
*'''Shotgun''': Now we're talking. The first gun you get that can actually kill stuff in a decent amount of time.
**'''Super Shotgun''': A double-barrelled version of the original. A complete [[rape]] machine at close range, delivering about as much damage per hit as a rocket, but falls off greatly at longer distances.
*'''Chaingun''': [[Dakka|WAAAAAAAAAAGH!]] Great at stunlocking enemies, especially the aforementioned Cacodemons.
*'''Rocket Launcher''': Capable of [[Khorne|reducing enemies to puddles of blood]] from a safe distance. Also capable of reducing ''you'' to a puddle of blood if used from an unsafe distance.
*'''Plasma Rifle''': Fires a stream of plasma balls that hit hard, move fast, and won't hurt you at close range. Unfortunately, it shares its ammo count with...
*'''BFG''': The most beautiful sight any soldier can behold, at least according to the Doom comic. ''The'' gun. The '''big''' gun. Anything it's fired at is [[Anal circumference|in for a bad time]], especially at close range.

==Doom 3==
In the early 2000s, Doom 3 came along. It blows chunks compared to the classics, but since the classics are so damn good it ends up being passable anyway. Since Valve had made "story-driven" shooters and "realistic" scripted encounters the in thing, id decided to rip off Half-Life, grafting on elements of the original Doom that had been scrapped at the concept stage. Unfortunately, the gameplay was too slow and similar to the rest of the genre, the scripting and story interludes just made the gameplay even clunkier and the big technological gimmick (per-pixel lighting) meant you had to choose between seeing what you're supposed to shoot with a crappy little flashlight and actually being able to shoot it. Supposedly the lighting effects were resource-intense during development and this was the "solution" (of course we know better that they wanted to make it a quasi survival horror). Naturally, the first mod for the game was duct tape so you can use the flashlight and a gun at the same time. This mod would eventually become official when the BFG Edition re-release came around about a decade later.

The plot itself is essentially a reboot - You are a generic marine who just transferred to Mars and after pissing around with all your co-workers whom you will never see in one piece again, an experiment involving a portal to Hell (This time with no reason besides the head researcher being kinda absolutely evil) goes horribly awry and now the facility is completely fucked. Your task then devolves into simply surviving, as you're cut off from any command and have to make your way to various checkpoints. Along the way, you come across an ancient artifact made by the original denizens of Mars, who made it in order to kill all the demons, and so the demons sealed it away in Hell. After a couple of trips in and out of hell, you manage to understand how the artifact works (by feeding off the souls of slain demons) and use it to kill the Cyberdemon, their greatest champion, and bail home. You'd think this is the end...except the mad scientist responsible for this is revealed to have turned into a full-blown demon.

===Resurrection of Evil===
An expansion to Doom 3, this game takes the original game and puts a few nifty spins to make it feel unique like the gravity gun (because Half-Life 2 did it too). Instead of the classic plot, you are now a nameless space engineer who comes across a different and wholly demonic artifact called the Hell Heart. This makes you more of a target compared to before, as Hell sends out three special hunters to reclaim the heart, each of whom give it a special ability for you to abuse once you kill them.

==Doom 4 (aka DOOM aka DOOD aka Brutal Doom HD)==
{{topquote|They are rage, brutal, without mercy. But you? You will be '''worse'''. [[Rip and Tear]], until it is '''DONE'''.|A direct order from what is either [[God-Emperor of Mankind|God's]] [[Living Saint|seraphs]] or [[Khorne]] himself. Do you really need more of a mission briefing?}}

Listen to it here[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpllUQ38CKY]

Then the latest Doom came out in May 2016. This rendition can basically be described as "3d Brutal Doom II" only sexier, with features like [[Rip and tear|ripping enemies apart with your bare hands]] and having to stay on the move to avoid being torn to shreds. The plot is also as bare minimum as the original (albeit with a surprising amount of lore hidden away in the Codex...that makes one feel it’s set in the 40k verse), kicking the player straight into the action with waking up on Mars, immediately [[Rip and tear|smashing a zombie’s skull]], and basically being told: “demonic invasion, go kill everything.” Starts with corporate big wig trying to talk you into being on his side and [[Awesome|your answer is a solid ''"FUCK YOU" fist]]. Also, the player this time around is someone the demons call the “Doom Slayer", who has traveled through “Worlds and Time” (hinting that the Doom Slayer could very well be the original Doomguy from the first two games, having also survived Doom 64 and has been traveling Hell since, later all but confirmed in the sequel), and millennia ago [[Awesome|kicked Hell’s ass so hard that the best the demons could do is seal him away so that he wouldn’t destroy Hell]].
The Slayers testament tells in sparse detail but leaves enough imagination to realise what the Legions of Hell were up against. A near-immortal being of pure hate, blessed by the Seraphims (or Khorne...which would make this a suicide attempt), capable of standing against Legions of Demons completely alone and harnessing their power as he slaughters them. THEN he fought a [[Titan (D&D)|Titan]] of "immeasurable Power and Ferocity" with only his Sword (it was a laser sword though so there's that), killing and absorbing its power to turn them on the Demons. Desperate now, the highest [[Daemon Prince|Archdevils]] realized nothing short of a God will stop the Slayer (fitting since a god summoned it in the first place), so they prepared an elaborate Trap involving what may have been a Blackstone Sarcophagus.
It speaks for itself, of what the Bait, which lured the slayer to the temple of the Blood Keep, must have been made of... or was.
Now at the peak of his might, with sword and shield of "adamantine strength", he stood before [[Chaos|the Horde]], and [[rip and tear|split heads open, punched, maimed, killed, burnt]] until finally the whole temple collapsed on him and he was sealed in the Cursed Sarcophagus.
Millennia passed until the UAC decided to deal with an Energy Crisis by quite literally [[Humanity Fuck Yeah|slamming an Oil Derrick on a Hell Portal to siphon off Hell Energy for power]], and just for giggles starts tomb raiding Hell for artifacts and treasures as well, ultimately running off with the Doomguy's sarcophagus. The demons see that the Doomguy’s prison/tomb is empty, and the subsequent invasion is actually a panicked attempt to stop the Doomguy from being woken up. Obviously, they fail and he butchers every last one of them.

Samuel Hayden is the guy in charge of the UAC, a cyborg the size of a 40k [[Space Marine]]. He and Vega, the Mars UAC AI, basically are quest givers for the most part. His subordinate Olivia Pierce pretty much ran a cult while Hayden was pillaging artifacts from Hell, [[Grimdark|being the only one to make it back from the expeditions]]. When shit hits the fan he decides to wake the Doom Slayer up with the hopes that this wild card could help take control of the facility without causing too much damage. Of course, once awake, he goes on a rampage and busts the UAC's shit, as Hayden's disregard for human life is too far for even Doomguy to take, expressing his outrage without the need for a voice actor.

So now it's up to the Doom Slayer in awesome power armor to [[Rip and Tear|rip and tear]] and dakka every demon he comes across to stop Olivia while wrecking the UAC's energy production. After going to Hell at least once due to Olivia breaking an Argent Accumulator and making it back to Mars, then after Hayden installs a "tether" to him, Hayden sends Doomguy on a quest to find the Helix Stone, picking up the most powerful version of the BFG 9000 yet on the way (more on that below). Once he reaches the Helix Stone it directs Doomguy to acquire the Crucible, a relic in the Titan's Realm. So Doomguy has to kill the Cyberdemon to get back to hell, make a long trek and fight the three Hell Guardians who guard the Crucible and returns to Mars again. To finally stop Olivia, Hayden, being the bastard that he is, even sacrifices his old creation Vega, though unlike everyone else, at least our player character is nice enough to make a backup without anyone even bothering to ask. The Doom Slayer uses the Crucible to shutdown Hell's energy wells and releases the spirits of his old friends, the Night Sentinels.

Once Olivia is found once again, she transforms into the Spider Mastermind. If you've been collecting all the stuff as you should have, she can easily be (along with the other game other bosses in the game) cheesed by the best weapons even on the highest difficulty, with the [[Cheese|Rich get Richer]] Rune fully upgraded. Once she's dead it's the final cutscene, where Hayden steals the "Crucible" which turns out to be an energy blade that makes a [[Lightsaber]] look like a toothpick, then sends the Doom Slayer off to who knows where with the tether he installed into the Praetor Suit earlier, disposing of a potential threat before it decides to become one. After this, you experience one of the best credit sequences made for a video game in over a decade.

Mick Gordon's soundtrack gives the game the best metal music ever. BFG Division being the standout in the soundtrack. Used for two whole levels and the final boss music is a Glitch remix of it. There is also some inspiration from RPG style FPS a la Metro 2033 and [[Samus|Metroid Prime]]. As collecting Argent Energy, weapon mods, elite guard tokens, and Runes allow them to upgrade the Praetor Suit and weapons to their preferred play style. The engine allows the Doom Slayer a wide range of first-person animations, as his destruction of UAC property and actions portrays an "I'm too old for this shit" attitude; having to fight demons for centuries doesn't make for a happy camper.

The damage of the BFG 9000 itself is notable. This thing instantly vaporizes every non-boss enemy on-screen! (and them too if you exploit a glitch. However what a player does that the devs didn't intend is dubious canon.) You read that correctly, you don't have to aim it directly at your targets to kill them. You just have to find the right opening to make it kill every demon you can. As the Plasma Bolt throws out lightning or much more likely, solar flares. That would mean the Plasma the BFG fires is likely firing a fucking miniature star with each shot! The F in BFG may stand for Fermentation, Grimdark! with science!. We can wait while you Google it.

Don't be impressed just yet. A Baron of Hell is 2000 pounds and because the BFG's ordinance turns everything it comes in contact with into gibs, that means it has to have 7 Gigajoules of energy and would have to be heated up to over 100,000 degrees Celsius! [[Anal_Circumference|A temperature range which is only seen in small stars and nebula!]] That's not just [[GrimDark]], that's just fucking cold in the most brutal way possible and speaks to the insanity of the UAC for building this thing. Are we sure somebody didn't screw up the name? Though Brown Dwarf Gun 9000 doesn't sound as cool. (Though why is it green? Because it's blue-green! As blue in space equals very fucking hot! Red Giant/Supergiants/Hyper-giants are (relatively) cold because they are old, a young blue star, giant or not, is insanely hot. Red Dwarfs are insanely long-lived because they are cold and slow-burning) In all possibility, if the Doom Slayer didn't wear his Praetor Suit, firing the weapon would instantly annihilate him too! (since Photons are their own particle and antiparticle the word is valid) No apologies for the science jokes. They are necessary evils in explaining how the BFG 9000 works.

It also says a lot of the bosses as a direct hit will merely stun them (without using the weapon wheel glitch) while shaving off large portions of their health. So you need either a very advanced suit of Powered Armor or a significant amount of mass to survive a direct hit from the plasma bolt and its flares. The only real con to using the BFG 9000 is it's limited ammo of four shots. Though a good player can get around that if they set up their Runes correctly.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ig_gQAITzIk| Science and math mostly explained in this Youtube video ]. So yeah, the BFG 9000 shoots miniature stars.

===DOOM Eternal===
{{topquote|Against all the evil that hell can conjure, all the wickedness that mankind can produce, we will send up to them, only you. Rip and Tear until it is done!|King Novik of the Night Sentinels}}

Doom Eternal was announced at E3 and a gameplay reveal was shown at Quakecon 2018. To say that its awesome is an understatement.
{{Template:Spoilers}}
[[File:Slayer on corpses.png|400px|thumb|right|"The only thing they fear... is YOU!"
If the whole Warp, set for Khorne, actively shits their pants when the Slayer comes, you're in for [[Rip_and_tear|FUN]].]]
We are introduced to the Maykrs of Urdak, an elder race with a techno-angelic motif that serves as the Sentinels' patron. One of them was the so-called Seraphim that empowered the Doomguy even further, turning him into the nigh-godlike and unstoppable avatar of sheer [[Awesome]] that is the Doom Slayer (seriously, the Doom Slayer is compared to a [[Titan]] on the level of the Icon of Sin). They may actually be a group of [[C'tan]], but we are not sure.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. The Sentinels were betrayed from within, the Doom Slayer banished to Hell ''again'' (eventually leading to him being entombed before the events of '''Doom 2016''') and what's worse, it turns out the Maykrs were only using the Sentinels to further their own race's objectives. What's more, the current invasion of Earth was the result of one of their long-term plans, with humanity as simply one more race that was to receive "penitence" in their place (read: the Maykrs are using Hell energy to prolong their lives, and willingly let Demons eat entire worlds to that end). Yet more evidence that these guys are C’tan.

The game picks up a few months after the end of the previous game with Samuel Hayden returning to Earth after the destruction of the Argent Tower on Mars that was the only way of getting free, unlimited energy out of Hell. But, he has the Crucible (confiscated from the Doom Slayer in the ending of 2016) with which he starts developing a synthesized form of Argent energy while the UAC begins to completely fall under the control of their leaders, the Hell Priests who entombed the Slayer so long ago. They start sacrificing humans left and right to start a ritual that will allow the demons to consume Earth, terraform the land to living flesh and molten lava, kill all that resist, transport their souls to Hell and refine them to pure Argent Energy while the impure Souls are made into new demons! A full-scale demonic incursion is now underway on Earth, with billions of dead, over two-thirds of Earth consumed while half of the UAC has gone full Quisling to the invaders, with the other half putting up a token [[Planetary Defense Force| resistance as the Armoured Response Coalition (ARC)]]. All hope seems lost...

"...We watched as the horde overwhelmed the very best and most advanced machinery and weapons technology that we could muster against the opposition. It was useless, they moved too quickly, they cared not for themselves, only sought out the blood of humanity. They were willing to sacrifice their own to get to the heart of our world. We slaughtered thousands and millions more followed, but then HE came - he cut through them like a sickle through a field - his fury surpassing their own. He is faster - more relentless - unyielding. I believe him now to be more than just a man - he is...DOOM." --Dr. Elena Richardson.

Equipped with his new Predator suit (3 guesses why it is called that, the first two don't count), he seeks his prey from his orbital fortress monastery (fittingly called the Fortress of DOOM), strikes with merciless fury surpassing the Death Company and World Eaters (primarch included) and '''Skarbrand''' combined, and he will stop at nothing to destroy the demonic hordes. Read: Personally [[Rip_and_tear|kill. Every. Single. Demon. With extreme prejudice.]]

Immediately after defeating the Hell Priest Deag Nilox's guardian off screen locating his whereabouts on Earth, the Slayer teleports onto his barge, kicks all doors in and vice grips the head off of the Priest, reducing the consumption of the Earth by 36.8%.

He then gatecrashes the nearby Citadel, interrupting the ritual of the Priests with Nilox's severed head, before being interrupted by the Khan Maykr. The C'tan by any other name tells him even he goes too far this time, before teleporting the Priests out of the Slayer's reach. Since the Hell Priests classify as Alpha Plus Psykers, (the first one being able to command his own legion of Titans AND shield himself from even nuclear bombardment) they can be found with a Celestial Locator. To construct a Locator, the Slayer goes to Exultia (an Argenta city) to retrieve the Celestial Casing, only to be scolded by the late King Novik for killing the Priests and that Humanity is no longer his people to be saved. Realizing that no ordinary individual will help him, the Slayer enters [[Warp|Hell]], and it's even more magnificent than Doom 2016, with gigantic walls and corridors made of flesh, abandoned [[Warlord_Battle_Titan| Sentinel Mechs]] and the remains of the Titan Demons that were killed by them, and near everything you could think of, even the Tower Of Babel in the background. Here the Slayer finds Valen, known by most as the Betrayer, repenting in his exile. After telling the Slayer that saving humanity will only make his burden worse, the Betrayer nevertheless installs the Celestial Power Core for the Slayer, as well as giving him a dagger he may need later.

Now able to locate the other Priests, the Slayer goes to Deag Ranak's UAC Cultist base in the Arctic, wrecking its operations before moving onto the neighboring Doom Hunter base. As yet more proof the Maykrs are [[C'tan]], the priest recovered an extinct race of demons once bred to destroy the Slayer (take a wild guess why exactly they went extinct) and, with nothing better to do, turned these things into [[Necron Destroyer|Semi-Organic Necron Destroyers]], labeling them “Doom hunters”, and calling you a heretic...which is [[HERESY|{{BLAM|'''''BLASTPHAMY'''''}}]]. After [[Rip and tear|losing]] them and complaining about it, the Priest, in the face of his impending DOOM, tries to bribe the Slayer, which [[Fail|literally costs him his head]].

Now furious, the Khan Makyr leads the last Priest to safety, while demonic activity on Earth skyrockets. Realizing Earth needs immediate backup at the Super Gore Nest in Europe after a failed attack from the [[Imperial_Guard|Earth Forces]] (with a casualty rate of over 87%), the Slayer arrives at what can only be described as a border between Slaanesh's and Nurgle's Domains. Every building in the vicinity has grown flesh, teeth and openings that look like both mouths and birth canals, the air is filled with toxicity, tentacles sprouted everywhere. But after a nuclear meltdown of the local reactor which conveniently houses the heart of the Gore Nest, the problem is quickly taken care of.

Back to searching and destroying the last Priest, VEGA is sure that Samuel Hayden would be able to locate him immediately. However, a combined Demon attack on his headquarters, the ARC Complex, left him badly wounded. Just as the Slayer gets to him and is about to teleport back to his fortress, the Earth beneath him quakes and a red portal opens up, and from it emerges the Marauder. Imagine a heretic [[Adeptus_Custodes|Custodes]] empowered by Khorne but with battle tactics from Tzeentch, the endurance of Nurgle and the speed of Slaanesh. These guys are absolutely no joke (yes, there are more of them) and if you haven't been playing like your life depended on it, prepare to be absolutely [[Anal_Circumference|curbstomped]].

Meanwhile, its clear that Samuel Hayden knows *way* more about the Slayer, Hell, and the Maykrs than he let on in the last game, strongly hinting that Samuel may in fact be a Maykr himself (which begs the question of what he was up to if he understood just how dangerous Hell was and how Argent Energy was made). He tells us that the last Priest hides in the Arena of Sentinel Prime, the Capital of the Night Sentinels and the only way to gain access is hidden in the core of [[Mars|Mars]]. But instead of calling the [[Adeptus_Mechanicus|Mechanicus]] to help, the Slayer enters the Moon of Phobos, where the battleship-sized BFG 10,000 is stationed, takes the gun over, targets Mars and [[Exterminatus|blasts the Core open]]... despite Samuel’s protests. He then proceeds to hop into a giant mass driver and blast himself to his next destination, [[Angry_Marines|streaking across the ruined Martian sky like a rage-fueled missile]].

Now on Sentinel Prime, the game goes into who the Doom Slayer really is. It turns out the Doom Slayer really ''is'' the classic [[Doomguy]] from Doom 1, 2, and 64, who after staying behind in <s>the warp</s> Hell he is eventually spat out, [[Gotrek_%26_Felix#Gotrek_in_the_Age_of_Sigmar|half-delirious and nuts from his experience of fighting off its hordes for an eternity]], unto the world of Argent D'Nur, where he is found by the ''Night Sentinels'', [[Grey Knights|an order of techno-knights dedicated to fighting demons]]. He is nursed back to sanity, and joins their order, eventually rising through their ranks due the sheer [[Rip and Tear]] he was capable of.

The final Priest, hiding in the Colosseum, is confident that the Slayer would never kill him in the arena, as it is against holy law of the Sentinels to spill Priest blood, especially in such a sacred place. He sends out his Gladiator, a being that even if its flesh is destroyed, its soul would prevail until its body is reformed. But the Soul resides in the gigantic shield it uses, so the Slayer destroys the shield first and then the face of the gladiator, and despite the warning shoots the final Priest to death. And by "shoot to death", we mean blow his head clean off with the Super Shotgun as he smugly declares how he can't be killed. The Khan Maykr is rather pissed about this.

As soon as he gets back home, she manages to hack into the Fortress of Doom, turning off the power and flooding the bridge with Demons. The attack obviously fails like so many other attempts. Hayden mocking her as the Slayer restores power with Hayden's own Crucible. Now the plans of the Khan Maykr are ruined, as there are no more priests to maintain the Hell gates, so if the Earth Forces kill all the demons, they would prevail. As a desperate last resort, the Khan Maykr wants to resurrect the Icon of Sin to eradicate all life on Earth. Of course, the prospect of seeing ''another'' Earth brought to ruin has made the Doom Slayer rightly [[Rage|pissed]], and suffice to say, [[Not As Planned|the Maykrs have no idea what they've just unleashed]].
So it's time for the Doomslayer to recover his own Crucible in Taras Nabad. Which was stuck into the skull of a Titan and breaks off the hilt to prevent its resurrection. Now it needs to be recharged. Once finished the Demons attack to give players an opportunity to test the new weapon. The Crucible is a one-hit kill on all but the strongest of enemies and there are respawning charges that only appear at this location. Use this for practice time before moving forward because the OHKO drops health picks faster than normal glory kills.

To reach the Khan Maykr, Doomguy now teleports to Nekravol, the City of the Damned. It's a [[Grimdark|place of biblical torment, fire and brimstone, cages bursting with humans piled up like livestock]], [[Commorragh| a place where human souls are "tenderized" and tortured until all hope is broken and every sense but the pain is gone.]] Only then can their souls be extracted and converted to pure Argent energy, which will be sent to the Khan Maykr in the City of Urdak (Heaven), while the empty shells of the humans are sent to the blood swamps to transform into more Demons. A process which every [[Haemonculus]] pays respect to. As it is, things that are worthy of being called "holy" are often more horrendous than the horrors of Hell itself.

The Slayer rips and tears through all of that mercilessly, and finally destroys the transmitter tower. Its destruction resulted in the Slayer being transported straight to "Heaven", a completely unnatural location in true H.R. Giger aesthetic, littered with white and gold colours and blood-red trees. In true Doomguy fashion, he interrupts the ritual that will resurrect the Icon of Sin by stabbing its heart with the dagger he got from the Betrayer. [[Not_as_planned|The Icon wakes up, corrupts the entire realm, and invites all sorts of demons to ravage Urdak]] before leaving to Earth.

Doomguy immediately follows but is interrupted by the Khan Maykr herself. In true Eldar fashion, she accuses Doomguy of all the bad things that HE did which broke the seal to Urdak, and that the use of thousand other species as Argent Energy for her race is justified in her traditions. Doomguy then slaps the shit out of her, and even in her final moments, she tells us that we have doomed all of creation. It’s likely she’s lying to hide the fact that she’s a C’tan.

Back on Earth, the final fight against the Icon of Sin begins. Now with a full-body, it is no longer a static boss fight but a semi-static. You blow parts from the Icon, until you finish it with your Crucible, by [[Awesome|slamming it into its forehead]]

===DOOM Eternal: The Ancient Gods===
A stand-alone DLC for Doom Eternal: The Icon may be dead, but now that the demons have free reign over Urdak and have initiated a second invasion of Earth, its up to Doomguy to clean up the mess he left behind. The Seraphim (aka the guy who made Doomguy the OP murderizer of hell) seems to be much more involved this time around. Big surprise; they confirm Hayden is the Seraphim (and by extension VEGA is the Father, which we remind you Hayden nearly blew up in the first game), and he sends you on a mission to recover the life sphere of the Father, the creator of the Maykrs and the known universe, to restore Urdak, and prevent the Seraphim's death by deterioration. Doomguy however has other plans; he betrays the Seraphim and destroys the Father's life sphere, then steals the Dark Lord's life sphere so he can summon him and face him mano-a-mano. But the biggest surprise of all is that the Dark Lord takes the form of the Doomguy himself! Dun Dun DUUUUUUUN!

Bad News: Mick Gordon isn't coming back this time around (due to some internal issues, he was let go). Good News: Andrew Hulshult, another rather well-known composer who's helped compose for some other shooters (Dusk, Amid Evil, Rise of the Triad 2013) is coming to take his place. While it's clear Hulshult might not be able to imitate Gordon, it's obvious he didn't disappoint.

===Demons===
Doom 2016 by itself has more demons than the classic games do, even though not all of them return from those games. Doom Eternal ups the count even more, although not all demons from 2016 return. Some demons are upgraded versions of a base model; they are sorted as such.

*'''The Possessed/Zombies''': In 2016, Possessed were humans that underwent horrific mutations due to the Lazarus Wave released by Olivia Pierce on the Mars Outpost. In Eternal, Zombies are the emaciated husks of humans stripped of their soul and mutated by demonic corruption. In both cases: wet toilet paper. They are some of the weakest enemies in the games and can easily be dispatched. 2016's Possessed are cheap glory kill fodder, while Eternal's Zombies are classified under the Fodder demon class, i.e. one of the chief targets of your Glory Kills, Chainsaw, Flame Belch, ice bomb and all other ways with which to keep your health, armour and ammo stocked up.
**'''Possessed Engineers/Cueballs''': Little more than walking bombs. Either shoot them to detonate them or melee them to launch them and have them detonate on impact. Returning as Cueballs in Eternal, these Ambient-class demons replace the "walking" part with "standing gormlessly in one spot, ignorant of any fighting going on around them". This allows the Slayer to use them as flying, explosive barrels if shot at the right angle.
**'''Possessed Soldiers/Blaster Zombie Soldiers''': Unlike their gormless lesser brethren, Possessed Soldiers move faster and with more tact, are hardier and can use a plasma gun fused to their arm to lay down suppressive fire. They're still not much of a threat. Eternal's Blaster Zombies are little more than Possessed Soldiers with a Classic Doom zombieman coat of paint, so make sure to keep some distance.
**'''Possessed Security/Shield Zombie Soldiers''': Wet toilet paper with shards of glass. Equipped with shields and shotguns, these can really ruin your day if you let them. The most effective strategy against them in 2016 is either to chainsaw them or use the Plasma Rifle's stun bomb to disable their shields. While Eternals Shield Zombies still hit just as hard, their threat level dropped off the abyss thanks to their energy shields ''violently exploding'' in response to absorbing too many Plasma Rifle bolts.
**'''Hell Razer''': 2016 exclusive, Hell Razers fight at a distance with arm-mounted laser cannons, which are actually parasites converting a human into a Hell Razer. Fire slowly and have distinct tells to their attacks. Don't pose too much of a threat: dodge their attack, get close and shotgun them.
**'''Mecha Zombie''': New in Eternal, these gore-covered terminator knockoffs are armed with metal claws, a plasma gun and a flamethrower, the latter of which they will flail about in order to hit you. Still fairly ineffectual.
*'''Imps''': The fodder from the original game, now quick as a hiccup. They jump all over the place, pelting you with fireballs and clawing at you if you get too close. Because they're one of the first enemies you face they don't pose much of a threat; your Combat Shotgun makes quick work of them (especially with the Explosive Shot/Sticky Bomb mod), and they gain an explicit weakness to bullet weapons (Heavy Cannon and Chaingun) in Eternal. Eternal also classifies them under Fodder demons, meaning that they make for great resource piñatas.
**'''Gargoyles''': Added in Eternal. Pretty much Imps with wings and [[Tyranid|scything talons]], they jump around and spit acid at you. They'll occasionally hover in place to fire off an acid volley, causing them to become instantly staggered for a Glory Kill when hit during this attack, so take your opportunity. Also classified as Fodder demons.
**'''Prowlers''': Originally added in 2016's multiplayer, they were promoted to regular enemies in Eternal. They function the same as Imps but with more health and they can teleport, often right behind you to claw at you. Classified as a Heavy Demon, meaning they require more Chainsaw fuel to mow down compared to Imps.
*'''Carcasses''': Debuting as Heavy demons in Doom Eternal, the Carcass' attacks are not that powerful and they don't have a lot of health. What they do have is the ability to summon energy barriers, blocking your ability to move around freely, home in on them, glory kill other demons and use explosive weapons safely. Your primary target in an encounter because eliminating them makes a fight a lot easier. Thankfully, these barriers share the same explosive vulnerability to plasma fire as the Shield Zombies' Shields.
*'''Pinkies''': Ol' faithful is now covered in armour, turning them into living battering rams. They (still) roar and charge in on you, dealing significant damage upon impact. The armour soaks most damage they take from the front, so circle them and [[Meme|attack their weak point for massive damage]]. In Eternal, they gain the Heavy demon classification and a crippling weakness to the Blood Punch, being the only attack that can kill them without deliberately striking their weak point.
**'''Spectres''': As the Pinky, but invisible. A bit harder to deal with because of this, but thankfully a lot less common and lack the armour plating.
*'''Cacodemons''': [[Star Wars|They fly now!]] Their spit attacks slow and disorient you, and their bite attack does a lot of damage. But because they fly now you can easily pick them off with your rocket launcher or gauss cannon. As Heavy demons in Eternal, they decided to min-max; their bite takes off a surprisingly large chunk of your health and is often paired with an aggressively distant lunge, while their shock-balls can be fired in a multi-shot volley. But it comes with devastating weakness: a single Combat Shotgun Sticky Bomb or Equipment Cannon Frag Grenade into their mouths causes them to swallow it, instantly staggering them for an easy glory kill. As an airborne demon, they also gain a weakness to Ballista attacks, dying in one Arbalest bolt.
**'''Pain Elementals''': Returning in Doom Eternal as Heavy demons, they endlessly summon chuck the homing suicide bomber Lost Souls at you. While they don't swallow any grenades like their Cacodemon compatriots, they ''do'' share the innate weakness of all airborne demons against the Ballista. Despite this, they are still more of threat that their short-limbed buddies could ever be.
*'''Lost Souls''': Horned, burning skulls that scream, fling themselves at you and explode for an annoying amount of damage. At least in 2016; in Eternal, they also appear when summoned by a Pain Elemental which is when they function more or less the same.
*'''Revenants''': [[Meme|DOOT]]. Made from humans in a gruesome process, the Revenants have jetpacks that let them fly around to put themselves in the perfect possession to launch barrages of missiles at you. They can also claw at you for significant damage, so keep your distance and take them out. In Eternal, you become able to shoot off their shoulder cannons, permanently grounding them restricting their melee attacks to the easily-evaded claw swipes. Classified under the Heavy class and, surprisingly, as airborne demons, making them into potent Ballista chow. Their meme potential is so great that a trumpet-equipped Revenant is a skin included in the pre-order edition of Doom Eternal.
*'''Summoners''': Only appearing in 2016, Summoners are pared-down versions of the Archvile. They possess lithe bodies that let them easily zip around and set up a summon circle away from your location, allowing them to call in aid. Sustained fire from just about any weapon will take them down.
**'''Spirits''': Doom Eternal DLC. While they look like the ghastly Remains of the Summoner, the Spirit will possess other Demons, taking their Fear and ability to feel Pain, while making them faster and more resilient. But even an upgraded body will give in with enough Dakka. Destroy the Spirit with the microwave mod of the Plasma cannon. OR kill everything living and watch the spirit, unable to manifest itself in Realspace anymore, fade out of existence.
**'''Harvesters''': Unique to 2016's multiplayer, the only demon to be so. Harvesters move around and instead of summoning other demons will shoot balls of plasma and drain life from other players, allowing them to supercharge their regular attacks.
*'''Arachnotrons''': Back in Doom Eternal, the Arachnotrons are walking gun platforms that can cling to ceilings to get a better vantage point to shoot at you. Their plasma turrets are mounted on an exposed, scorpion-like tail, which can be destroyed to limited their attacks to the more manageable and telegraphed bomb volley. Their resemblance to the Spider Mastermind from 2016 is intentional: the UAC cloned them using the Spider Mastermind's genetic material. [[Looted|and when the demonic invasion began, the automated facility making them was taken over by the possesed]]...[[Just As Planned|Which was planned]]
*'''Whiplashes''': The first all-female demons introduced in Doom Eternal resembling [[lamia]]e, but don't expect any monster girls. They are as nasty as any Heavy demon in Doom, and they use their great speed to slither in and around the battlefield, dodging heavy-hitting weapons before hacking away at your health from a distance with a pair of chained whips. Difficult to hit, but once you start hitting them they'll go down eventually. That, or use a Lock-On Burst from the Rocket Launcher to delete them.
*'''Mancubi''': Big fat bastards equipped with heavy cannons to blast you with fireballs and flamethrowers to keep you at a distance. They're big, slow targets with slow attacks so if you can keep your distance they're not too big a threat. In Eternal, these Heavy demons got faster (and fatter) but you can blast their flamethrowers off, severely nerfing their damage output. After that, sustained Chain gun fire or a few missiles/Super Shotgun blasts will easily take them out.
**'''Cyber Mancubi''': Heavily armoured versions of the Mancubus. They fire globs of acid that linger on terrain for a bit, limiting your movement options, but lack the flamethrower attack. In 2016 you just pour more damage into them to take them out. In Eternal, their armour is destructible and can be stripped instantly with a single Blood Punch, making it easier for you to deal with them. But because their cannons are armoured you can't blast them off like you can with the regular Mancubi.
*'''Archviles''': Oh HELL no. The Summoner on crack, an Archvile can put up barriers of fire to keep you away while they Summon more demons. If you don't interrupt them you'll be facing a more difficult fight, especially if they summon a MOTHERFUCKING MARAUDER. Even when not summoning they are tough and can dish out a lot of damage, setting the ground beneath you aflame or sweeping fire waves in your direction, while any friends they successfully summon receives a buff that lasts until the Archvile's death. In short, after taking out all Carcasses in an area, they are your next target if you want to win a fight.
*'''Hell Knights''': [[World Eaters|Big dudes who revel in wrecking your shit]]. They are fast, closing the distance to pummel you or to perform a leaping ground slam for a short-ranged area of effect attack. Keep your distance and pump them full of lead to take them down quickly if you don't want to be taken out yourself. In Eternal, they gain the Heavy demon classification and a crippling weakness to Chaingun fire.
**'''Dread Knights''': Cybernetically enhanced Hell Knights constantly pumped full of adrenaline and dopamine for every kill they make. Appearing only in Eternal as Heavy demons, their most prominent feature are a pair of energy blades, which considerably extends their melee range and causes their ground slams to leave a lingering, damaging pool of energy for a bit. Can fire lasers from their blades at you, and shares a weakness to the Chaingun, as with other Hell Nobles.
**'''Barons of Hell''': [[Bloodthirster|Big red bastards]] who are the toughest regular enemies in 2016. They hit like trucks and can blast you with powerful balls of green fire. The best way to deal with them is a heavily upgraded chainsaw or the BFG to not deal with their bullshit. In Eternal, they return as the Fireborne Barons; a Super-Heavy class demon that is immune to the chainsaw and cannot be one-shot by the BFG, so you'll have your work cut out for you. Befitting their name, Firebone Barons are also [[Salamanders_(Chapter)|coated in flames with obsidian skin]] and have burning blades coming from their lower arms, which fits given how much more dangerous they are.
*'''Tyrants''': Pretty much downgraded Cyberdemons (Looking more like the classic Cyber rather than 2016's beefy Balgaar monstrosity) and one of the most powerful common enemies in the game. Packing a powerful laser cannon, a laser blade and the ability to fire missile barrages, paired with a MASSIVE pool of health, these Super-Heavies should be eliminated as fast as you can so that you can deal with the rest of the demons. The fastest way to do so is with the Crucible, which will hack a Tyrant up in no time. [[FAIL|Just make sure that you actually hit the Tyrant itself and not the fodder running around it]]. Otherwise, just exploit its slow turning speed to dedicate as much ammunition you have on-hand to shooting at it until it dies.
*'''Makyr Drones''': The generic rank-and-file of the Maykrs. Annoyingly resilient for Fodder demons and armed with rapid-fire laser turrets, headshotting them with (almost) any weapon is a guaranteed insta-kill that provides ammo as well.
*'''Blood Maykrs''': Definitly not [[Blood Angels]]. The normal Maykr population after getting corrupted by Hell. They shield themselves with a golden aura that negates all damage, and attack with slow energy balls. Once they notice that such things would never work, they will lower their shield to start a Powerful Argent energy attack. A Headshot instakills them like a drone while sustained Fire on their body works too.
*'''Doom Hunters''': Introduced as a boss and later reused as rare Super-Heavy demons. A species of demons driven to extinction by the Doom Slayer and brought back by the Hell Priest Deag Ranak, the Doom Hunters resemble [[Necron Destroyer]]s with a cannon and a chainsaw for arms and missiles that can be fired from its hover sled. They have an energy shield that you need to deplete to be able to damage them directly, though it's possible to attack their Blood-Punch-vulnerable hover sled directly first to disconnect the main body from it. Infamous for being a boss that is lazily reused during the course of the game, as early as [[Rage|THE VERY NEXT COMBAT ARENA AFTER FIGHTING THE FIRST ONE]]. However, the mook versions don't have immunity to Ice Grenades.
*'''Marauders''': [[Chaos_Space_Marine|Former Night Sentinels corrupted by Hell]], the Marauders are fast, deadly and a pain to kill. They possess energy shields that block all incoming damage, including the BFG, Crucible, and Unmakyr (though not splash damage from explosives), can pelt energy beams from long-range, blast you with their own ''Super Shotgun'' at close range, and can summon spirit wolves to hunt you down if you shoot their shield too often. If baited into sprinting at you and brought into mid-range, their eyes will flash green as they swing their axe at you: use this as an opening to blast them with your Super Shotgun or Ballista, then quickly switch between the two until their stagger expires. Repeat this, rip and tear, done.
*'''The Gladiator''': [[Skub|The Last Living Hell Knight of DOOM II]] and, unlike the Doom Hunter, has survived the extinction event that is the Slayer. Armed with a gargantuan soul-vessel shield that blocks all incoming damage, and a flail with a retractable chain for close and distant attacks. Like the Marauder, if his eyes blink green you have an opening to shoot him with any weapon (though Ballista or Super Shotgun are still preferable). A headshot will stagger him for a glory kill, but the Slayer will simply beat the shit out of him. Phase 1 ends with the destruction of the shield, and now the Gladiator goes ballistic with TWO flails. The best approach now is to shoot at it until it dies (when it isn't spinning its flail to reflect attacks back at you).
*'''The Icon of Sin''': A legendary titan, resurrected into the body of the Son of the Betrayer, [[Chaos_Spawn|deformed and warped beyond recognition]], his very existence in Realspace causing destruction and madness. Its described that, if left unchecked, it will drag the entire dimension to Hell through a supermassive black hole - so basically if one of the Chaos Gods themselves manifested in Realspace. The Khan Maykr thought It could be controlled using the Soul of the Betrayer's Son, putting it into [[Power_Armour|Power Armour]] for insurance. But then, the Doom Slayer stabbed the heart containing the son's soul with a dagger provided by the Betrayer ([[Matt_Ward|though without carving the Name of the Betrayer into it]]), setting the soul free and, with it, the beast from Maykr control over. The battle itself is, on paper, pretty easy: eight pieces of the Icon's armour must be destroyed (head, both upper arms, both forearms, both pectorals and abdomen) using your whole arsenal. While doing so, lesser demons will try to harass you and distract you from the Icon. With the armour's destruction, the whole process starts again in the second phase, but this time, you chip away at the flesh and bone of those same regions until the Icon collapses, giving you time to ram your Crucible into Its Brain.
*'''The Original Dark Lord/ Davoth''': The original Dark Lord created by the Father as a Primeval, one of the first gods. Doomguy's equal. Designed to truly care about his People, he spiraled out of control in search for eternal life, to save his people from death. Formerly a caring guardian, he tortured everyone who slightly deviated from this goal. After Davoth got imprisoned in his soul sphere by the Father, demons apparently fought one other to claim his title while he still whispered his influence to them. The Dark Lord of the First Age after Davoth made the deal with the Khan Maykr and the most recent one, the Dark Lord of the Fourth Age, is implied to have been the Spider Mastermind that possessed Olivia Pierce before getting her head blown off by BFG-9000. Davoth himself apparently prevented anyone from becoming Dark Lord of the Fifth Age as he was released from his soul sphere several months later. Currently only seen in one cutscene after his soul sphere was unlocked and everyone hopes the final fight will be the same as a Unreal Tournament/ Quake Deathmatch.

===Trivia===
*The Fortress of Doom is the personal fortress-monastery/mancave of the Slayer, once used for the Galaxy spanning Crusade of The Night Sentinels. Features a Teleportarium with an absurd range (teleporting the Slayer from Earth's orbit to the Hell-absorbed Argent D'nur, which is on a completely different dimensional plane to the Sol system), a Hangar bay with a Sentinel "Atlan" Mech, and a prison named the "Ripatorium", filled with Demons the Slayer undoubtedly abducted, to slaughter them for sport.
**On at least one ocassion, the Slayer fought against Noise Marines, as his personal quarters feature a guitar made of flesh.
*It is said, the "Wretch" who gave the Slayer an adamantine armour, forged from the Fires of Hell, was in fact Khorne Himself. Even if he can´t corrupt the Slayer, He doesn’t need to. the carnage he brings upon demons is the equivalent of centuries of war.
**Doomguy and Khorne may have flat-out '''teamed up''' as Doomguy wants to kill demons (Khorne technically isn’t) and Khorne wants to take over Hell. The two of them have become fire-forged friends since then, to such a degree that, according to a legend passed down among demons, Khorne has a stasis pod containing the Doomguy stored deep in the heart of his personal fortress. Possibly underneath the skull throne itself.
***Khorne is Doomguys equal. In the ancient Gods DLC the life essence of the true Ruler of Hell gets ressurected, and he takes on the form of Doomguy. The Dark Lord of Hell is the leader of Hell`s armies. Not a King, but a warrior of the Dark Realm. The fiercest among all, as only the strongest could rule. He is you.
*Since the Night Sentinels went to war against the Demons, they are effectively the first Space Marine Chapter (preceding even the Thunder Warriors), since they are to an extent Psykers, deploy with Argent (warp) using Weapons, have their own Titan Legion, Use a Space fleet of Flying Castles, have an Arena for duels to the Death, and only The Strongest among them can become King, they even had a mini civil war. the only thing they are missing is DNA from the God-Emperor...and even then, Doomguy may have it.
**The Sentinel Titans are called "Atlans" and are the Ultimate Example of a [[Invictor Tactical Warsuit|Babycarrier]] done right. Armed with one or two shoulder-mounted Giant [[Plasma Annihilators|Plasma_Annihilator]], the Palms of the Hands featuring the same sort of plasma weapon but weaker. The Melee Weapon being an ECKS BAKS HUEG Energy Spear for impaling equally huge Titans.
*The Makyrs in Doom Eternal bare a surprising resemblance to the [[C'tan]] (even being unable to show their true forms outside of Urdak). They also possess a sort of metal skin on all castes of there race, resembling necrodermis.
*Sometime between the events of Doom 64 and Doom (2016), the Slayer was subjected to something called the "Divinity Machine," given his new abilities from that point forward, it's possible he had a fragment of <s>the Warp</s> hell itself imbued within him, thereby making him a man uplifted with <s>psyker</s> argent powers. This might make him this dimension's equivalent of [[The God-Emperor of Mankind|The Emperor]]... if this is a separate dimension.
*In Doom Eternal, the Slayers new armour is not fully sealed, giving a look Upon His Arms, like a certain [[Kharn the Betrayer|Swell Guy]].
*Said Swell Guy <s>may or may have not been</s> probably is a Descendant of The Slayer's "friend," Valen the previous holder of the title of "Betrayer". The best guess would be that the Emperor used his Genetic Code for The Basics of Angron, and later the World Eaters Legion.
*The Crucible uses pure Argent energy to create its blade. This means it's soul-powered and therefore, since the Doom Slayer absorbs the power of the demons (giving them a true death), [[Grimdark|uses the life essence of demons to kill more demons]].
**because the doom slayer does give true death to deamons, this may mean he can do what every single eldar, necron, and psychically adept human thought was impossible...actually '''kill''' the chaos gods, he would probably choose [[Slaanesh]] first
*The forces of Hell seem to be a serious threat even judging from the absurd standard of 40k. Samuel Hayden gave the surviving humans insane technology (full functioning AI battlesuits for infantry, and colossal Titan mechs, Dark Age Technology so to speak) and still couldn't get the upper hand. The only viable solution to gain ground seemed to be [[Exterminatus|total nuclear annihilation.]]
**This seemed to be simply because of Hells literally [[Orks|infinite]] [[tyranids|numbers]] since they multiply by both ordinary breeding and turning the aforementioned bodies of the mulched human souls into demons. Even if they took out one thousand demons, one billion would take their place. It seems this was the only reason for their defeat since, once all of the avenues for invasion are cut off, the remainder are mopped up without much fanfare. One wonders if all of the priests were on Sentinel Prime how things would go since there would be no cut off for the entering demons.

==Doom: The Board Game==
Yes, there is a Board Game - made by [[Fantasy Flight Games]] no less - giving the vague '/tg/ related' qualifications this site uses.
It was released around the time Doom 3 was released, though it wasn't that remarkable and is pretty hard to find nowadays.

One guy plays the baddies, the other 1-4 players play a band of unfortunate marines. The heroes start with 2-3 powerup cards, and the baddies get 5 cards from his own deck and during the game, he gets to draw more (the rate of which is equal to how many marines there are) and if his deck is empty, he gets to insta-kill one of the Marines. His guys are more varied in their movement but they can only shoot once.

The marines have three options: move 8 spaces without shooting, move 4 spaces and shoot once, or shoot twice without movement. They need to explore the board, find computers and other events as the board provides. The baddies, meanwhile, can either upgrade his monsters or bring more to the board.
Either way, his goal is to score 6 kills on the Marines.

A new board game got released shortly after May 2016 Doom, which, to my understanding, is basically just the same shit as before with a new coat of paint.
* It's different, but not too different. Similar in concept and design, with the main differences seeming to be in how the Marines play, and victory conditions for certain scenarios. Absolutely beautiful models, however, and incredibly fun. Highly recommended.

==Movie==
Also (roughly) around the same time as Doom 3 was a movie starring Karl Urban and former WWE superstar Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. It pretty much replaced the whole Hell plot with some genetic experimentation to give people superpowers that only succeeds in creating hyper-aggressive mutants, and a squad of Marines sent to investigate the mayhem. It wasn't that good, with the only really 'good' scene being this one scene where it's all FPS-style like the original games and has monster killing.

Another movie was released in 2019, named ''Doom: Annihilation.'' When asked what they thought about this, id Software simply replied: "We are not involved in the movie." But the last five minutes of CGI demons was fucking phenomenal.

==TLDR==
{{blam|Rip and Tear Motherfucker!}}
==External Links==
*[https://doomwiki.org/ Doom Wiki] for all your Doom-related needs
*[https://www.doomworld.com/idgames/ /idgames/], the home of pretty much every Doom mod worth playing (and pretty much every Doom mod that isn't worth playing) since 1994.

[[Category:Video Games]][[Category:Awesome]]

Flesh Tearers

2021-03-05T01:19:54Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D: /* Daily Rituals */

[[File:Temperusmaximus.jpg|300px|thumb|left|Nassir Amit, [[Brother-Captain]] of the Fifth Company of the [[Blood Angels]] Legion and the first [[Chapter Master]] of the Flesh Tearers. A gritty motherfucker who is said to be the [[spiritual liege]] of [[Temperus Maximus]].]]
{{Infobox Spess Mahreen Chapter
|Name = Flesh Tearers
|Heraldry = [[File:Flesh Tearers Livery2.jpg|200px]]
|Battle Cry = Shouting so hard you [[Nurgle|crap your pants]]. Also "For The Slaughtered Angel" Since that's all his sons focus on.
|Founding = [[Second Founding]]
|Successors of = [[Blood Angels]]
|Chapter Master = [[Gabriel Seth]]
|Primarch = [[Sanguinius]]
|Homeworld = Cretacia
|Specialty = [[RIP AND TEAR|RIPPING SHIT APART]]
|Strength = ~400 Marines, not including Primaris 1000 now
|Allegiance = [[Imperium]]
|Colours = Deep red with black shoulderpads, helmet and backpack (and aquila).
}}
{{Topquote|Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.|Paul Boese}}

Note: Imperial law requires the playing one song from [https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_BBqcNY8-eHqJVu9ZtISy0JXApBra8le this playlist] at all times while reading this page. You have been warned.

[[Angry Marines|Angry Fuckin]] [[Blood Angels|Vampires]]. They were originally a crusading chapter like the [[Black Templars]], but decided to set up their fortress on Catachan 2: Electric Boogaloo, otherwise known as [http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Cretacia Cretacia]. They came to this decision after their scout company was eaten by bugs. Interesting note about Cretacia, the people there are born with two hearts. How this changes the transformation of kids into Space Marines is unknown, but presumably the second heart is grown to space marine size instead of being replaced, thus saving a step of having to add in the second heart. Also, Cretacia comes from the word "Cretaceous", so yeah, fucking dinosaurs. More [[Grimdark|hardcore]] in general than the [[Blood Angels]], since they've all got a bad case of Geneseed [[AIDS]], probably from drinking a thousand gallons of blood from [[Slaanesh]] followers every week or trying too hard to be [[Grimdark|cool]], that results in a higher number of marines getting the [[Rage|Black Rage]] than other chapters. Due to insanity and since rushing at everyone without [[METAL BOXES|rhinos]] (Or deepstriking an entire company of rhinos, predators, and assault marines onto a planet to run straight over/through a living wall of tyranids) is decidedly pants on head [[awesome|insane]], they've only got around 400 [[Space Marines|Spess Mehreens]] to call on (thus they have only about four mixed companies they deploy mainly as demi-companies known as Vanguard Strike Forces) and <s>most</s> all of them are bugshit nuts. You might suppose that this situation would make them wax emo like the [[Blood Angels]] sometimes do, but they cope by rushing at heretics and drinking their blood after they're done chainfist fucking them.

Let's put it this way: in the Third War for [[Armageddon]], the [[Orks]] of the Fire Wastes [[RIP AND TEAR|were so horrified by the savage brutality of the Flesh Tearers]] that they would retreat rather than fight these psycho-motherfuckers.

The only wangsty member is the Chapter Master Seth, who wants his chapter to be the good guys which is unfortunately difficult when the [[Black Rage]] drives them insane all the time and leaves them (Seth included) perpetually [[Angry Marines|angry]], but even he usually just shrugs and [[Grimdark|slaughters a few thousand civilians to make himself feel better]], for the [[Emperor|Emprah]] of course. This pissed off the [[Space Wolves]] and [[Salamanders]] quite a bit due to their fanatical devotion to defending the helpless of the Imperium. However Seth told [[Logan Grimnar]] and [[Tu'Shan]] to piss off when they confronted him about it. Their battle cry is described as an inarticulate scream that freezes the pansy enemies of the Emprah with fear, it probably sounds something like [[Rage|FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-]]. They may be more than a little gay for their Serrated blades.
[[Image:Flesh Tearer Mk IV.jpg|150px|thumb|left|[[Rip and tear|Rip and Tear]]!]]
In summary, [[Twilight|NO FUCKING SPARKLES]] *[[Chainsword|BRBRBZZZZZZZZZZZZ]]*

Again, in summary; they're a fucking Khornate Cult except they call him "The Emperor" instead of Khorne. The fact they are still considered loyalists at all is mind-boggling. They've been outright called heretics on numerous occasions, but presumably every time people start asking questions they get an unexpected case of [[Abaddon|"missing limbs"]]. Thanks to Seth's latest strategy of pointing them where the chances of collateral damage are minimal, they're slowly becoming more accepted by the Imperium at large, so at least they're trying? Perhaps [[Knights of Blood|a certain other Blood Angel successor chapter]] wasn't.

The Blood Angels and their successors took them to trial (before the Shield of Baal campaign but after most other events in the fluff where they ended up killing Imperial members) depicted in the novella, "Trial by Blood", where after going through almost every established fluff case where the Flesh Tearers ripped and teared beyond what's normally healthy or sane, actually voted to disband the Flesh Tearers and absorb them piecemeal into other Blood Angel chapters. [[Astorath]], however, stepped in and convinced [[Dante]] to overturn the verdict because as bad as the Flesh Tearers were, they were still merely at the further end of the scale than all Blood Angel chapters, who all had the Black Rage, were. They were still no where near as bad as the [[Chaos|sick fucks]] and [[Tyranid|abominations]] the sons of Sanguinius were at war with, and winnings wars required [[Get_shit_done|getting shit done]], which the Flesh Tearers excelled at. This trial and the overturn are interesting details as they, along with several other examples, indicate the Legion is still internally organized. Though, seemingly more as a brotherhood organization (or a fraternity) than a Legion, there is the detail Dante could overturn the vote which in turn implies a lot more to their inter-Chapter relations than the Inquisition might be comfortable with.

Seth became total bros with Dante later on during the Blood Angels civil war when they came to an understanding about each other, and the Flesh Tearers fight at the front alongside the Blood Angels in the Baal campaign, even saving some [[Sisters of Battle]] (which might contrast with how some Sisters of Battle called for their excommunication when Flesh Tearers caught in the throes of the Black Rage slaughtered Imperial forces on Armageddon). Also, they have a book by Andy Stiller that's simply called "Flesh Tearers".

==Chapter Tactics==
[[Image:Fleshtearerchainweapons.jpg|thumb|right|Too many serrated weapons? [[Khorne|Fuck you, there is no such thing!]]]]
The Flesh Tearers have a very different relationship to the Red Thirst than many other Blood Angels chapters. Compared to the regular [[Blood Angels|Blood Angels]] who strive for [[Dante|honorable perfection]] and the ability to overcome [[Mephiston|the Black Rage]] and [[Blood Drinkers|the Red Thirst]], the Flesh Tearers decide to just go with it and be angry vampiric murdererhobos. This leads many of them (including their vehicles, from their Rhinos to their Battle Barge: Victus,) to want to charge straight into the enemy and chainsaw them into bits. This strategy seems to generally work, but is also probably why many of them [[FATAL|end up dead.]] Attrition rates from combat and Black Rage are so high that as of M41 they are barely able to keep about 400 marines battle ready at a time. When Gabriel Seth came along he spent a lot of his time re-working how the chapter deployed and strategies for combat.

The Flesh Tearers mainly deploy as a very aggressive fast attack force, forgoing defense for all out offense or counter-attack strategies and close combat offensives. Although the Chapter does not have many vehicles compared to other chapters (mainly due to the same reasons they don't have many marines) they do make plenty of use of Rhinos, Stormravens, and Predators in their offensives for fast transport and heavy fire support, along with having a decent amount of dreadnoughts as well (they probably don't have trouble keeping a decent number of those things ready due to that whole "high casualty rate" thing). Vehicles being mostly crewed by the coldly logical Tech-Marines no doubt helps immensely to provide covering fire and destroy anything actually capable of threatening a Space Marine. The chapter does also manage to keep a small group of Chaplains, Librarians, and Sanguinary Priests as well who fill generally the same role as those in other Blood Angels successor chapters. They also have a very heavy preference towards chain weapons (notably chainaxes), power swords, and lightning claws, which should surprise absolutely no one.

With so few marines and so many xenos and traitors to kill, Seth was forced to forgo Astartes companies and instead created demi-companies known as 'Vanguard Strike Forces' which have a Vanguard Veteran squad lead three squads of tacticals, a squad of assault marines, and a Furioso into combat. This set up allows for the Flesh Tearers to deploy smaller groups of marines into more places while still having a command structure, as there are so few Flesh Tearer Captains to lead the chapter. With these strike forces as teeth combined with their rapid mobility, the entire Chapter resembles a chain blade.

On the tabletop, the 'Shield of Baal: Exterminatus' Rules give a Flesh Tearer supplement. The two main additions are the ability to deploy six units of fast attack (for assault spam) and that rolls of 10+ to charge makes your marines RAGE!

Following the [[Devastation of Baal]] the majority of the Chapter consists of [[Primaris Marines]], as Guilliman would prefer the chapter still exist. These forces presumably fight in normal Primaris squads and formations.

==Notable members==
*[[Nassir Amit]]: Nicknamed 'The Flesh Tearer' by his peers. Originally Captain of the 5th company of the Blood Angels' Legion; when he got [[promotions|promoted]] to Chapter Master he just gave them his nickname. Amit originally got the nickname 'Flesh Tearer' from [[Khârn]] (of all people) when he saw how scary the dude was in the World Eaters' recreational gladiator pits, and just how generally bloodthirsty and angry he was even before the death of Sanguinius really made that a [[Black Rage|thing.]] A lot of his actions could be argued why the Flesh Tearers went down the spiral path to angst town. On the flip side, the guy REALLY hates [[Roboute Guilliman|a certain spiritual liege]]. To the point that he told Bobby that his Codex and breaking apart the remaining Legions was a stupid idea. Straight up to his face. While not being a Primarch himself. [[Awesome|And that was after Guilliman already punched him in the gut for saying it a first time ten seconds before]]. In battle he wears [[Terminator armour]] with dual Chainfists with storm bolters mounted to the wrists. As a final note he is known to kill [[Chapter Serf|Serfs]] near him just because he had not killed something in the last five minutes... though on the other hand he is known to be brutally honest and hating to lie about things (like he was disgusted when he was forced to cover up the first time the genetic curses manifested in one of the Blood Angels Legion companies that resulted in butchered [[Space Wolves]]). The guy makes The Hulk look like a zen master. He's basically the canonical inspiration for [[Temperus Maximus]], down to armaments.
*[[Gabriel Seth]]: "The Guardian of Rage" is the current Chapter Master with a XBOXHUGE S8 AP4 chainsword, with rending. Also, in 5th edition, if you rolled a 1 in close combat against him, he kicks you in the fucking balls. He is a lot more diplomatic than his previous Chapter Masters (especially compared to Amit) but in combat he is still just as much of a maniac as his brothers. His 7th edition rules give him Furious Charge, Rage, and Rampage as a Warlord Trait, along with getting an extra hit for every 6 he gets in close combat, showing that leading the Flesh Tearers does require you to be so angry that even Khorne tells you to chill.

==Daily Rituals==

*06:00 - Morning Rising: The Flesh Tearers awaken from their hammocks to the sound of their astartes pattern alarm clocks going off before being promptly smashed by their fists, or thrown at a wall, or at a nearby chapter serf or THROUGH a nearby chapter serf.
*06:15 - Revelry: In order to rouse the brothers, ancient classical Terran music is played to motivate and rally the Flesh Tearers for the day. Popular listening tunes include the M3 songs "Raining Blood" by Slayer, "Hammer Smashed Face" by Cannibal Corpse, and anything on this [https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLeh7StfpJN7QY9CLkgPWH9so02Fdg6otU playlist] by Mick Gordon.
*07:00 - Grooming: The Flesh Tearers try to groom themselves for the morning ahead....using their chainswords as toothbrushes and power axes as a razorblades to groom themselves in the most metal way imaginable.
*8:00 - Morning Firing Rites: The Flesh Tearers will go out and gun down whatever flora and fauna that happens to think it's big and bad eneough to take on the toughest most rage-filled sons of Sanguinius this morning.
*9:00 - Morning Combat Manoeuvres on Cretacia: Apparently the jungles didn't learn its lesson earlier. For the next hour, marines will dispense with ranged weaponry and use chainswords, chainaxes, chainglaives, bare-fisted badassery and the occasional club, to fight whatever plant, titan-sized dinosaur or giant bug that Cretacia has thrown at them today. The carcasses (or sticky red paste) will be gathered up by chapter serfs to be prepared.
*10:00 - Morning Meal: Assuming they haven't been scooped up by giant alien pteradayctls or eaten by velociraptors, a meal will be prepared by the chapter serfs consisting of meats, grains, plants or eggs.
*11:00 - Morning Prayer: The Flesh Tearers will gather to give thanks to the emperor and the Primarch Sanguinius lead by the chaplains. Emphasis will be put on why the Primarch was such a badass and why they should emulate his example. To the uninitiated this will sound like a bunch of tusken raiders passing a kidney stone.
*12:00 - Midday Meal: A second meal will be prepared for the chapter. This time it is less formal, as it usually resembles an ancient terran cow being lowered down by a crane from above before its torn to pieces by hungry battle-brothers.
*13:00 - Tactical Indoctrination: The Flesh Tearers will gather to learn where, when and how they will fuck shit up today and if they'll be serving with any imperial meatbags. Emphasis will be put on maximum damage; any death companies that manage to land on orphanages or hospitals are referred to as "oopsie doodles". The use of the codex astartes is encouraged, as a makeshift club to beat the enemies' brains in with!
*14:00 - Company and Command Level Chewing Out: Due to the number of innocent casualties caused by the Flesh Tearers, company commanders often have to call in loose cannon battle-brothers, telling them how "They're damn good marines but the planetary governors have been riding my ass because you drove a spartan assault tank through his front window." Relegating them to desk duty or pairing them up with more level headed marines usually goes about as well as you'd think for an army of rage-fueled space marines.
*15:00 - Battle Practice: The battle-brothers gather to let off steam in the practice cages. Due to a shortage of combat servitors the Flesh Tearers make due with whatever local predators they captured earlier, typically this resembles an electrified steel cage match with meat-eating therapods. Many battle-brothers remember the day fondly when Chapter Master Seth pile drived a t-rex off the top of the practice cage and onto the desk of some chapter serfs.
*16:00 - Mandatory Bond with a Primaris Hour: The Flesh Tearers having reluctantly accepted new Primaris Marines into the Chapter in an attempt to bond with them (much to Chapter Master Seths continuing irritation), and be civil (by Flesh Tearers standards) to the new marines. Trying not to punch their new brother's heads in or throw them out of a Thunderhawk for being arrogant dicks has proven…difficult…especially for Chapter Master Gabriel Seth. Typical bonding sessions usually start with tea and end with something that looks like a cross between the Battle of Thermopylae and a soccer riot. This usually lasts about an hour.
*17:00 - Evening Prayer: The Flesh Tearers give thanks to the Emperor for having more dinosaurs to pile drive, beat, stomp and pray for more flesh to tear and that their power armored boot might find its way up some Khornate daemon ass. They also give thanks to how awesome they are and how good they looked using high explosive ammunition in that elementary scholla progenium last week.
*18:00 - Night-Time Hand-to-Hand Manoeuvres: The Flesh Tearers will ritually bathe in barbecue sauce or tangy sweet and sour sauce, before marching out into the long grass wearing nothing but chainfists to engage cretacia's night time predators (they're usually about 6 feet tall, hunt in packs, can open doors and have blades on their feet for slicing), with the winner getting to eat the loser!
*19:00 - Evening Meal: The chapter serfs will prepare a meal made of the loser (usually the dinosaurs) and extra emphasis is put on extra dipping sauces, failure to provide sufficient dipping sauces will see the chapter serfs used as the next meal. Occasionally dinosaurs will wander into the kitchen looking to eat chapter serfs, the standard protocol is to lock them in the freezer or tell a member of the chapter he can have seconds.
*20:00 - Screaming/Shouting Contests: Anyone who wants to challenge chapter master Seth to a shouting/screaming contest can now attempt to do this. This usually sounds like a bunch of klingons going into labor.
*21:00 - Maintenance Rituals: The Flesh Tearers gather to fix their wargear and equipment. Special emphasis on chainfists and chainswords.
*22:00 - Daily Apothecary Checkups: The Flesh Tearers will be checked up by the Apothecary for signs of the Black Rage or Red Thirst or other mutations. Anyone found with this will be sent to the death company, any battle brother who says "I've got dino DNA!" will find himself given a class 4 prostate exam by the chapter's one working combat servitor!
*23:00 : Roundup: Any loose dinosaurs are rounded up and killed by the Flesh Tearers...with their bare hands.
*24:00 : Bedtime: The Flesh Tearers will retire to their hammocks for rest before starting the day anew, replacement alarm clocks will have been issued.

==Gallery==
<gallery widths="250" position="center" spacing="small">
File:Flesh Tearers RT.jpg|Their color scheme back in [[Rogue Trader]].
File:FT Baal Predator.jpg|[[Predator Tank#Baal Pattern Predator|Baal Predator]] of the Chapter.
</gallery>
{{Marines-Official}}

[[Category:Blood Angels]]

Khorne

2021-03-05T01:10:18Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D: /* Khorne's take on magic */

[[File:Khorne mark.png|center]]
{{heresy}}
{{awesome}}
[[File:khorne_by_baklaher-d7335e6.jpg|500px|thumb|right|Special K in all his glory, Sitting comfortably on his Skull Throne, being pissed off at everyone and everything, because to him it's all bullshit]]<div style="font-size:1.10em;font-weight:bold;font-style:italic;font-family:serif;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em"> BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! - The creed of Khorne being Overused to Death'''</div>

{{Topquote|Anger, which, far sweeter than trickling drops of honey, rises in the bosom of a man like smoke.|Homer}}

{{Topquote|The important thing in life is not victory but combat: it is not to have vanquished but to have fought well.|Pierre de Coubertin}}

==Introduction==
[[RAGE|'''Khorne''']], also known as Kharnath, Arkhar, Khorgar, [[Viking|Kjorn]], Khar, the Great Brass Bull, the Bloody Handed, the Axefather, the Bloodwolf, The Great Khorneholio, Special K, the [[Ulric|Wolf-Father]], Frowny Face McMurderaxe, Sergeant Slaughter, the Lord of Fighters, the Messiah of Mayhem, Call of Duty: Demon DLC, [[If the Emperor had a Text-to-Speech Device|The Paraplegic Sociopath]], [[If_the_Emperor_had_a_Text-to-Speech_Device|MegaSatan]], Definitely not fucking Khaine, [[Dwarf Fortress|Armok]], Stone Cold Steve Austin, Khornelias Fudge, Kellogg's Khorneflakes, Big Red, Chile Con Carnage, Daddy’s little princess (HEY, FUCK YOU!) and 8860 other names is the [[Chaos God]] of war, murder, savagery, hatred (though he is starting to question that one at times thinking it belongs more to [[Slaanesh|his arch enemy]] than it does him), murder, destruction, rage, wrath, murder, battle, barbarism and [[Vance Motherfucking Stubbs|manliness]]...oh and did we mention murder. He is also the mofo that the Klingons worship. As well as this he symbolises courage, athleticism, determination, daring, discipline, sportsmanship, honor, impulsiveness, struggling onward in the face of any odds, and survival of the fittest. But mostly he's simply about being angry.

He is commonly held to be the strongest [[Chaos]] God by default (though this is technically incorrect) and is associated with wolves and powerful hunting dogs, as well as lions and bulls. For another reason that is likely inspired by occultism, Khorne's sacred numbers Four and eight - and thus, his followers tend to organize themselves into groups of fours, eights and their multiples. Fun fact, this also means that the names of Khornate daemons are usually comprised of eight letters...Though exceptions exist. (The Chinese, Vietnamese, and Koreans value the number 8 due to its similarity with the Chinese character for prosperity does that make them Khornate worshippers?)
[[File:SkullThrone.jpg|400px|right|thumb|The Big K in all his glory contemplating on whose rectum he is going to shove his chainaxe into with extreme prejudice.(Spoiler: its everyone)]]
Khorne, by virtue of being the most prominent Chaos God, is also the second most powerful general "deity" in both iterations of Warhammer (Nurgle has him beat but only because of the fact that everything eventually comes to him) In both versions of Warhammer, his followers are characterized by an overbearing need to spill blood and engage in honest battle, as well as a violent code of martial honour and a "survival of the fittest" approach to morality. They tend to be dutiful, as well, but said duties involve whacking their axes into their enemy and painting their blood all over villages gargling their blood as mouthwash (if only because Khorne's only real command is to spill worthy blood in his name).

This is where Khorne and Slaanesh generally clash directly and openly as enemy gods, aside from the fact that everyone in the warp hates Slaanesh. While Khorne instills discipline, honor and a sense of selfless duty in his followers to obey a single purpose (usually spill blood in his name), Slaanesh is the polar opposite. Slaanesh instead tells his/her followers to do <strike>whoever</strike> whatever they want in their own selfish pursuit of pleasure, caring not for the consequences of their actions (e.g; using your authority to hoard food from your starving citizens, so you can indulge in bottomless gluttony every day).

This is also why Khorne is at odds with Tzeentch: Tzeentch sees things like honor and discipline as unnecessary hamstrings towards one's advancement and opts that everything is on the table when one wishes to further their position (why duel your Lord for his position when you could arrange for an "accident" to befall him, instead? Sure its a low-blow, but if your lord was too stupid to see that car bomb coming, was he really deserving of loyalty?). The same can be said of his disdain for sorcery. Tzeentch thinks that mortals using the power of the gods themselves is fair game in their pursuit of progress (so long as you can control it), while Khorne thinks that using anything else but your own strength alone means you are weak and his "survival of the fittest" ideal has no place for you.
That being said they have some points they agree on. for example using the power of the gods to augment your abilities (i.e. Cloaking your weapons in Warp-fire or Warp-Lightning), can be interpreted as simply using your power to control the power of the gods for your benefit. They also think it looks awesome, And Khorne is perfectly fine with using underhanded methods to deal with someone who is not worth your time (i.e. A “governor” of Jopall), which Tzeentch finds interesting.

Khorne also has the distinction of being the only Chaos God (or any god for that matter) whose word you can take at face value. The other gods don't realize that disdain for scheming and backstabbing isn't the same as being stupid. Nor do they realize that over-complicating things is actually the worst thing a planner can do. The more unnecessary variables to a plan, the easier it is for something to break. ([[Just as Planned|that said Tzeentchian plans have divination included into them, eliminating most tactical miscalculations]], [[Not as Planned|unless Tzeentch wanted it to happen.]]). So - you actually want results? Be practical. Involve only as many steps as you need. Beat someone until they're reduced to a bloody smear on the ground - no step 2 required.

Basically, Khorne isn't a stupid brute, he's actually pretty smart. The god of battles knows a thing or two about tactics and warfare. That said, Khorne's doctrine is inflexible. One, straightforward approach to anything. Simply put: Break everything in half. Which means that it all rides on an "all-or-nothing" deal. If his battering ram approach doesn't work there's little to be done to salvage the situation beyond everyone dying a glorious death. Usually this isn't the case for most battles, the Khornates' overwhelming need to quench their bloodlust gets in the way of reorganization. Of course, if things go according to plan, there are only few things that can stop the demonically-possessed no brakes hate train.

If Khorne had a voice actor it would have been BRIAN BLESSED but BRIAN chose Gotrek instead, the rejection sending Khorne's rage to new heights (unsubstantiated rumors say Khorne's considered sending Skulltaker and Karnak after BRIAN BLESSED, but Khorne realized all he'll get from that is two dead daemons with burst eardrums).

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8ZqFlw6hYg Here is his theme song.]
===Appearance===
Khorne is described as resembling a giant, iron-hewed warrior clad in red armour, with a massive sword and a winged helm that conceals a snarling face like that of a wolf. This humanoid form could be seen as something darkly meaningful, were it not for the fact that more or less everyone in both settings is conveniently human-shaped.
[[File:Khorne First.jpg|thumb|right|400px|The first depiction of Khorne in Warhammer art.]]
Of course, most artists at GW forget that he's supposed to look a giant Chaos Warrior and instead make him look like an overgrown Bloodthirster on a chair.

===Khorne and His Worship===
Khorne is the easiest god ever to worship. Where [[Tzeentch|other]], [[Slaanesh|more]] [[Nurgle|pussified]] gods may demand you to memorize overly long prayers and hymns, or to build huge houses of worship and other such unmanly bullshit, Khorne is venerated with one thing and one thing only: the time-honoured tradition of [[rip and tear|hack'n'slash]].

Khorne is worshipped on the battlefield. His hymns are the sound of steel on steel, his sacraments are the blows of hammer and axe, his only prayer the bellowing of the warcry "Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!" and his libation is the blood spilled in his name.

In essence, you worship Khorne by being a good warrior. And as a warrior, you'll find your interests and his tend to generally align; he wants death but isn't picky on who, and you want to live to fight another day. Thus, the mere act of preserving your life will earn the pleasure of the god of battle. In a setting where there is no peace, only war, Khorne is always going to be massively powerful. Further, most of the armies embody one of his aspects - [[Space Marine|Powerful]] and [[Necron|fearless]] warriors are the [[Chaos|chosen]] of Khorne, but he favors those who use [[Ork|brute force assaults]] carried out with [[Tyranid|singular purpose and no remorse]] just as well. [[Just As Planned|Khorne wins in fights his forces weren't even involved in]].

However, Khorne is one of those honourable war-gods. So don't think that beating your enemies by anything other than sheer strength, skill and aggression will make him happy. And for the love of Sigmar/Emprah, don't try to cheat by picking fights with the weak or helpless or by giving him baby skulls. Khorne expects a form of savage, viking-esque dignity from his followers and for them to be generally [[Fist of the North Star|manly]], this means you have to fight worthy opponents and those generally able to at least hold up a sword. ''Only after'' the worthwhile enemies are out of the way; then you can gorge yourself on the blood of women and children all you want (or make them fight amongst themselves and recruit the survivors, or enslave them, or whatever). Most of the writers forget this, thinking that Khorne really gives no fucks about what you kill, and it makes Khorne [[Rage|snarl in anger]]. Though he continues to send his flesh-hounds to hunt down those who flee and abandon their brothers on the battlefield, be they Chaos or non-Chaos.

Aside from that and (obviously) never backing down from a fight, Khorne has no commandments whatsoever. But deviating from the aforementioned in the slightest is begging for the flesh-hounds to tear your ass apart.

Such as it is, it would be incorrect to think Khorne doesn't have priests dedicated to him. Though, being a warrior god, these priests tend to be warriors themselves and are often marked by their god. In essence, the only difference between them and a Chaos marauder/Space Marine is several pounds of armour. In Warhammer Fantasy, these priests are called 'Bloodfathers', and in lieu of magic that is gifted to their priests by other gods, Khorne just gives [[AWESOME|HOLYSHITAWESOME]] fighting skills and visions of bloodshed. In [[Age of Sigmar]], they're called Slaughterpriests and they basically lead by example, killing while screaming out Khorne's name. If the killing is good enough, Khorne will empower the priest and/or his allies; but if the killing is unworthy, the priest himself will feel Khorne's wrath.

Khorne is also venerated by working brass into your armour and weapons and donning fashionable high collars. Occasionally, a warrior so pleases Khorne that he gifts him with specially made ones that in addition to looking fabulous can also grant total fucking immunity to magic. After all, who needs spellcasting when you can make a motherfucker's spine disappear - with your bare hands no less?

Anyway, Khorne is worshiped by warriors, generals and basically anyone who likes battle. His chosen Space Marines legion is of course the World Eaters, in Warhammer Fantasy, the Norscans tend to venerate him with the greatest piety, especially the Aesling tribe, who are Khorne's most devoted servants in Fantasy.

===Khorne's take on magic===
As posted some time ago by an Anon who managed to perfectly sum up what Khorne's opinion on magic is: FUCK WIZARDS!!!!

While that's a pretty accurate summation, there's also some nuance to it that is not at all helped by GW's habit of changing things every new edition or keeping shit consistent between writers. With that in mind, let's get into the details of what the "FUCK WIZARDS" thing means.

The hate of psykers/wizards/etc is pretty much the exact same and works by the same logic for both Khornates and the Adepta Sororitas/Black Templars/etc: it's a [[Conan the Barbarian|Conan-esque]] swords and sorcery thing. Khornates hate wizards for [[3e|trivializing encounters with a single spell and overshadowing fighters]] and turning what should be a clash of might or a military endeavor into a weird wizard show where people turn into frogs and beguile their opponents into killing one another. They hate Slaaneshi for the same reason, due to how they often take what should be a wholesome murderfest and make it into something creepy and weird, what with them "discomporting themselves with the dead" and all that. In Realms of Chaos, its entirely possible for a librarian or wizard to go to Khorne; they just refrain from using their psi/magic powers for anything else but resisting spells in combat from that point onward.

Khorne and his followers are okay with laser beams. They are okay with sniper rifles ([https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ygHaGY85e-U| as long both you and your opponent have them]). They are okay with flaming swords. They are okay with running people over with tanks. They are okay with blitzkriegs. They are okay with chemical gas. <s>They are okay with holocausts</s> we do '''not''' target civilians, or discriminate...that often. They are okay with exterminatus. They are okay with good tactics. They are okay with berserker charges. They are okay with honorable duels at dawn.

They are ''not'' okay with turning people to frogs, mind control, raining glitterdust from the skies to blind everyone, raising armies of zombies to do the killing for you, and so forth. They are not okay with someone pointing a finger and their opponent dropping dead. And they are most definitely not okay with someone who got their power solely by bargaining with daemons instead of earning it themselves. (While it's quite possible to get power via daemonic bargains and not earn Khorne's ire, that requires you to have already become a powerful fighter or be willing to risk death and inflict grievous bodily harm on others, i.e. ''earning'' it.)

They are okay with daemonic summoning rituals because Khorne's daemons are all about the hack-and-slash ultraviolence. They are okay with using psychic abilities or daemonic aid to navigate the warp because that means they don't end up crashing into suns or getting whisked to some distant corner of the universe where there's nothing worthwhile to kill. They are okay with sending and receiving astropathic messages because they recognize the value of relatively fast interstellar communication. They are okay with chaining wizards up and forcing them to eternally forge magic items on pain of death because that lets the fighters kill things more easily.

One may consider it hypocritical that Khornates are okay with blatantly unfair TECHNOLOGICAL murder, but not okay with blatantly unfair MIND/MAGICAL murder. The point, or at least one interpretation, is that wizards/psykers fucking cheat. They do. They steal the power of the Warp for their own ends. As long as they stay in line, and do nothing but permit the warrior to enact his craft as he so wills, fine, let them live (albeit in terror and likely enslaved by chains of brass) until the day they are no longer useful, at which point their skulls can join Khorne's throne.

But stealing the Gods' own fire and using it to do what mortals should do through their own skill and strength is unacceptable. Remember that technology is completely valid to Khorne. Stealth is completely valid to Khorne. Skill is completely valid to Khorne. Cleverness is completely valid to Khorne. The nuclear bomb and other innovations that come after it could be seen to be unfair. But it is a mortal invention. Mortals should give honor to Khorne by murdering each other through the sweat of their brow. Granted the lines got pretty blurry when AoS introduced the Slaughterpriest.

The scientist who devises new ways to kill is a saint. His work can be put to any other use -- [[Slaanesh|enriching human life]], [[Nurgle|ending hunger, fighting diseases]], [[Tzeentch|answering great questions]]. But the scientist who devises new bombs and weapons is, in his own way, a champion of Khorne. He takes his limitless human potential and nobly limits himself to new ways to kill. Whether you kill with a sword or a bomb, you are killing using good old fashioned mortal strength and genius. You aren't stealing warp energy from the gods in the form of a fireball and cravenly calling it your own.

The forger of enchanted weapons,is an exception and an ideal symbol. It is fitting that spell energy is subjugated to and entombed within cold steel, just as cowards deserve to be subjugated to warriors until they lie cold and headless in the ground or else burnt to ash. The magic weapon is a symbol of might's superiority to magic, or in the case of actual daemon princes the unity of both.

The jury is still out on how okay Khorne is with magically imbued people who didn't get their power from him, but [[Tzeentch|given]] [[Nurgle|the]] [[Slaanesh|other]] [[God-Emperor_of_Mankind|possible]] [[Sigmar|benefactors]], he's probably not the biggest fan.

Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne! When the Galaxy burns, we will define righteousness!

tl;dr Magic is unmanly, grab a sword (or a 16-inch battleship cannon, if that's your thing) and go kill like a real man already.

===Khorne and other Chaos gods===
As a rule, Khorne despises [[Slaanesh]] because they're an effeminate milk-sop who can't grow a beard or swing an axe like they've got a pair (even though Slaanesh probably has the biggest pair, but less on that), and also because he personifies acting outwardly (ie: seeking the deaths of others), while Slaanesh acts inwardly (ie: seeking their own pleasure). Khorne also finds Slaanesh's obsession with luxury and torture wasteful and dishonorable. Slaanesh is about living it up while Khorne is about tearing it the fuck down. Not to mention its apparent belief that those who wrong you are meant to suffer for it, which Khorne surprisingly doesn't agree with. One of the few Slaaneshi things Khorne ''doesn't'' have a problem with is the desire for perfection in battle; spending year after year training to master an aspect of combat, constantly pushing your limits and never being satisfied until you get it ''just right'' is a perfectly acceptable way to live, so long as you remember to shed blood and take skulls.

Khorne also hates [[Tzeentch]] - though they are not fundamental rivals - because his reliance on magic is seen as a sign of weakness and his desire not to face his foes in person is decried by Khorne as cowardly. Khorne sees his penchant for deceit and trickery as dishonorable. Also, Khorne prefers muscles over books (plus Tzeentch is a huge NEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD). Tactics and stratagems are all well and good because that's how armies win and seemingly-doomed warriors eke out a victory against seemingly-impossible odds.

Khorne thinks he hates [[Nurgle]] also, because while the ability to endure immense pain is good - great, even! - and calmly acknowledging defeat is just as acceptable as trying to kill your opponent with the last dregs of strength your dying body has left, the fat fuck doesn't even try to get shit done. Thus, his embodiment as sloth runs contrary to the active, vital aspect of Khorne, but he's all for death if its by homicide or genocide.

There's also [[Solkan]], the not-Chaos Chaos God of Law and a rival of Khorne, being the only Chaos god that can match him in sheer RAAAAEG. Khorne likes to sit back and have a chuckle at Solkan's outbursts, if only because the last time he actually tried to move in on Solkan's turf he lost that fight. Not even the Blood God can top the sexually frustrated wrath of a guy looking for his [[Arianka|sisterwife]].

Of all the Chaos gods, Khorne actually hates [[Malal]] the least. For one thing, he respects the lost god for sticking to his guns: he hates the other gods, wants them dead and is actively working towards that goal. Since Nurgle just sits there being a scabby procrastinator, Tzeentch just has to have his fingers in everyone's business and Slaanesh is fucking Slaanesh (really, they are), this is something Khorne can sympathize with. Also, Malal is one of the only chaos gods to put up a halfway decent fight when Khorne manages to find him, which would mean that they would be best buds if Malal wasn't a self-destructive, omnicidal lunatic.

In short, he has problems with almost everyone and pissed at almost everyone, including you even if you worship him (usually it's a matter of how pissed he is at you). And they hate him too, except for Nurgle, who's too nice to hate anyone. If you earn his respect however, he will give you it (he has high standards though, meeting them is quite hard.)

===Khorne and non-Chaotic Gods===
Well, [[Ulric]] is his little brother and they tend to get along rather well. Ulric's still ridiculing Khorne over the fact that one of his greatest champions, Haargroth, got his head smashed in by Ulric's Ar-Ulric, Khorne usually replies by pointing out that ''Storm of Chaos'' isn't canon anymore. Not that that stops Ulric. Khorne and Ulric often get into arguments over which one of them is moar Viking; with Khorne usually winning by pointing out that his top worshipers actually are Vikings and that he has a Valkyrie. They also settle this with arm wrestling and drinking contests. There's a lot of belligerence, but you can sense the brotherly love underneath. Indeed, it's kind of a [[Fist of the North Star|Raoh/Ken relationship]].

Despite both being war-gods, Khorne has a poor relationship with [[Myrmidia]]. Khorne, despite being a master of tactics and sieges and the finer points of warfare, vastly prefers a manly head-on charge, and Myrmidia's sissy "planning" approach to warfare therefore offends Khorne. Most meetings between the Blood God and the Maiden of Strategy end with the Blood God fuming impotently because his strict code of martial honour does not permit him to hit girls (or pull their hair) and retreating to his tree house.

Khorne is the only Chaos God who tolerates Sigmar because he thinks he's pretty bad-ass AND respects the idea of a mortal man becoming a god. That and Sigmar's comic book series, Sigmar the Emprahrian, has great splashpages of fights and no SWORDSWORDSWORDS. However, this tolerance is only one-sided, and while Khorne respects him, it doesn't mean he won't try to put an axe in his head for being an sworn enemy of Chaos.

When asked about the [[Emperor]], Khorne usually responds with a streaming torrent of bloody curses and oaths which causes a bloody froth to start leaking from his helmet. In short, he is remarkably indifferent to the old man. Ironically, they share many of the same beliefs: They both disliked psykers, they both have a kick ass thrones, and they both have units dedicated to close combat. Hell, even the Emprah's head is a skull. What's not to like...oh maybe the fact that he's a COMPLETE FUCKING HYPOCRITE!

Khorne is utterly sick and tired of anyone who dares associate him with [[Khaine|40Khaine]]. Before eviscerating anyone who makes that connection, he will often give a short PowerPoint presentation, explaining how Khaine is an honourless god of murder and sadism while he himself is a god of honourable and forthright battle and courage, and how sadism is contrary to his code (Khorne indeed used to be about honorable combat, but now he's just about mindless violence and hating everyone for either piss-poor reasons or for no reason at all. Goddammit, GW). Khorne then reiterates that Khaine's elfishness and love for scantily clad women is sickening and makes him more like Slaanesh and trashes the elf god in a brutal punching bag sorta way like the prince of pleasure... Of course, this is just a front on Khorne's part. Khaine's love of war combined with his elfness and that his most ardent worshippers are scantily-clad women proves Khaine to be the secret love-child of Khorne and Slaanesh (tsundere confir- *sounds of violent, painful evisceration* '''{{Blam|WHO DARES? IN MY OWN PAGE, OF ALL THINGS? FUCK YOUUUUUUUU}}''' '''''[[Slaanesh|Search your feelings you know it to be true]]. Actually, if you consider Ka'Bandha is tsundere for the Blood Angels and Angron was for Horus to the point during the Siege of Terra he made him feel ashamed for implying he didn't trust him AND the natural state of tsunderes is raging, insulting and violent, well...

That being said, Khaine does have a dual nature in Fantasy thanks to being worshiped by [[Dark Elves]] and paid respect to by [[High Elves]], where one side is indeed honorable and just wants to keep fighting and being badass which means Khorne can tolerate him approximately half the time. The fact that both are patrons of [[Blood Bowl]] teams is usually the common ground, with Khaine and Khorne crashing/trashing some other God's house to watch on game nights while downing can after can of Bloodweisers and shoveling Dwarf Rinds in their faces. Khaine periodically tries to invade the realm of Khorne whenever the Khornate team beats the Dark Elf team, with such meetings ending with Kaine being khorne punching bag and letting his servants brutally take their anger on the incapacitated god and his elven servants. When Khaine's team beats Khorne's, Khorne takes out his aggression by beating the fuck out of Slaanesh (no homo) while Dark Elves go on safari hunting [[Warriors of Chaos|Khorne's worshipers]].

Khorne has absolutely no patience for the [[Horned Rat]], who is a favorite of Nurgle and Tzeentch respectively. It's a weak vermin whose very existence pisses him off. As a result, Khorne is much more fond of [[Sotek]] who encourages killing the fuck out of [[Skaven]] whenever they appear, and is also a fan of blood sacrifice (the fact that Sotek wants hearts and cares nothing for skulls is reassuring since they don't intrude on each other's fetish); this fondness is entirely one-sided.

Like the other Chaos Gods, Khorne has no fucking clue what the Great Maw is. However, it doesn't seem to complain when [[Ogre Kingdoms|Ogres]] worship Khorne, so he's got nothing against him...her...it...schclim...whatever, the big god-thing that wants to eat.

The pantheon of the [[Tomb Kings]] mostly stick to themselves, so Khorne only knows they exist..

Khorne is impressed with the [[Bretonnia|Bretonnian]] race by the fact they're the epitome of honor and glorious valor. On the other hand, their entire race has been tricked by a single fucking Elf Goddess into doing their every command which fills Khorne with incomprehensible fury. As it stands, the first being that's going to get the axe when Khorne manages to get an avatar to manifest in the material plane is Lileath.

[[Mork]] and [[Gork]]/Gork and Mork are Khorne's old drinking buddies. They piss him off more than any other beings in existence, but after a good 3-way beatdown and a few billion cases of squig beer he realizes they're alright company.

Khorne has a feeling that he'd get along with the gods of the [[Dwarfs]], but even their introductions (being long ass winded descriptions of their primary worshipers and their lineages) irritate him so much he can't even get into a conversation with them. One of them is STILL giving his own introduction, and has been for about 20,000 years or so now (and he hasn't even reached the changes that have happened since he started). Unable to make him aware of what's going on around him, Khorne simply moved him into the guest room and bricked it off with a wall of skulls.

As for the [[Tyranid|Bugs?]], Khorne hates them '''''Especially''''' due to them not having real blood, just vile alien ichor.

==His portrayal in Warhammer Fantasy==
He's a half-way mythologically accurate version of [[Viking|Odin]], whose very name means Fury (and one translation means 'frenzy'). You could also make the case that Khorne is Thor minus any protective instincts towards humanity, as both are whirling vortices of blood and spit who are associated with the colour red and its connotation of anger.

No, that's it. Get the fuck out; he's an axe-crazy, psychopathic, evil-as-balls daemonic version of Odin - so basically the Norse god of wisdom, with wisdom actually treated the way Vikings would have recognized. Currently there's a bit of a debate about how much of Odin he represents (see discussion page) so this bit will list the similarities and some of the differences.

Well, for one thing, Chaos worshipers in Warhammer Fantasy actually are Vikings. Read about them [[Warriors of Chaos|here]]. Secondly, Khorne is closely associated with wolves in that setting (one of Odin's names literally translates to 'Battle Wolf'), and even has a wolf-like pet in Karanak, thus, fulfilling a role similar to Freki and Geri, or more closely, Garmr (having three heads, Karnak also parallels Cerberus from Greek Mythology). Also, it's revealed in Knight of the Realm that Khorne owns two hunting wolves/giant fleshhounds called Garmr and Gormr, with whom he partakes in a wild hunt across the heavens.

Another point of similarity is that both Odin and Khorne are war gods explicitly connected with berserker rage. They have their own warrior-cults associated with them who fight with said rage and Odin's Olfhednar are practically the same as Khorne's Chosen in both form and function.

Additionally, thanks to Valkia, Khorne also has a Valkyrie to further the similarity between him and Odin. This was inevitable, of course, given that the Warriors of Chaos are indeed an evil version of the Vikings as has already been stated. It should also be noted that Valkia's similarity to the Valkyries is not a superficial one. She is actually referred to as 'the Sword-Maiden of the Blood God' in the WoC codex, and is Khorne's Chooser of the Slain who carries those worthy champions and warriors of his to fight on in the Blood God's halls after death.

Finally, we got a glimpse of his neck of the Realm of Chaos in the Valkia novel written by Sarah Cock-well. It was basically Chaos Valhalla, and here's some of his quotes:

"A cleaved head no longer plots." "A head stuck on a pike no longer conspires." "Put to the sword they who disagree."

Now for the differences, aside from the obvious physical ones Odin also scries, it's woman's magic taught to him by Frigg and Freya. He's got the rage, yeah, but he's also all about fate and averting ragnarok, (directly opposed to Khorne's goals) even if he knows he can't stop it since fate works that way; in that regard Khorne is more like Surtr from Norse Mythology (the fiery giant who wages war and brings flames that would consume the Earth - the instigator of Ragnarok). We see this in the Havamal, Grimnismal, the Voluspa, and the Lokasenna. Hell, in Lokasenna, we learn he cross dresses, ie was tied into shamanic practices (Indo-Europeans have a thing for seers in drag). He can also get to Tzeentch levels with his planning and Odin's perfectly fine with Runic magic, whereas Khorne hates that shit.

==Champions Of Khorne==
===In 40K===

* [[Kharn the Betrayer]]: Embodiment of Crazy Awesome and Patron Saint of fun guys everywhere. Kharn is Khorne's greatest mortal champion in 40K and has a wholly deserved reputation as a team-killing nutso. Once upon a time, Kharn was a straight-laced, meticulous Assault Captain of the World Eaters 8th company. [[Horus Heresy|After a certain chain of events]] he dedicated himself wholly to Khorne, thus becoming one of the most fucking lethal warriors in the galaxy as well as probably the most religiously devoted of Khorne's servants. Also notable for shattering two entire Space Marine legions by himself with a flamethrower in a single night. Despite this, since his first appearance (where he was no different from other Berzerkers) he became more and more coolheaded when not in combat (and even then there are moments when he is coolheaded in combat). He's become a swell guy because of this.

* [[Angron]]: '''HE! GETS! SHIT! DONE!!!''''. Khorne's foremost Daemon Prince alongside Doombreed. PERIOD.

* [[Doombreed]]: Khorne's greatest Daemon Prince ever and possibly either Genghis Khan or Turgeis the Devil IRL (probably Genghis Khan, Turgeis the Devil's infamy mostly came from cowardly tactics - he attacked churches because non-combatants like clergymen and monks didn't put up the best fights and to steal all the holy relics and decoration made from precious metals). Notable for launching an actually successful Dark Crusade that wiped out two Space Marine chapters. Which is more than a [[Abaddon|certain armless failure has pulled off]].

* [[Svane Vulfbad]]: EVEN IN 40K KHORNE'S CHOSEN ARE VIKINGS. Svane Vulfbad was a motherfucking badass [[Awesome|Chaos Terminator Space Wolf Chaos Lord]] who grew tired of the Imperium's sickening effeminate inability to GET SHIT DONE and the Space Wolves' sickening fur-fetishes and instead decided to dedicated himself to a god worthy of his kickassery. He thus became a badass Chaos Lord dedicated to Khorne (because a berserker god of war who likes axes meshes well with Vikings) and was killed, anticlimactically, by a thunderbolt while fighting Harald Deathwolf.

* [[Crull]]: A Chaos Lord from Winter Assault notable only for making idiotic statements, and utilizing Sorcerers in his warband when there's some possessing to be done. Also has a weird way of saying "drown".

* [[Azariah Kyras]]: A Librarian who somehow became a Champion of Khorne and who ascended to daemonhood. Presumably, his [[Awesome|speaking skills were great enough that the Blood God was able to give him slight leeway in regards to the 'no Psyker rule']], likely because he was a philosopher of carrion and slaughter, showing Khorne's way as freedom, freedom in meaningless, in mindlessness, which he accuses the functionings of the universe of. Khorne loves that stuff, existentialism for skulls, especially when it's an arch-traitor responsible for the deaths of billions, then declaring openly his allegience of Chaos to his fellow Mehreens as he is about to ascend as one of the most powerful daemon princes ever. A psyker who uses psykic powers to bring about good old kinetic Exterminatus, their reputation to raise covert cults of slaughter, discover their lust for combat and seek to encompass it, and ultimatedly be the poster child of Khornist Existentialism is too good of a chance for Khorne to pass up, who either wins against the galaxy or gets to devour Kyras' soul in a good long bloodbashing and probably still make a good Greater Daemon of Khorne out of him, probably the one and only Chaos tactical genius who could actually lead a Black Crusade properly. That's another reason Khorne likes him. Kyras' no funny business style of simply tearing a sector apart however possible tends to draw other Chaos God devotees under the wing of a Khornate champion. Here is the speech of doom that he gives the player's army (before the last level of the game ) or per canon, the Blood Ravens following Captain Diomedes before the climax:

"Faithful... enlightened... ambitious... brethren.

In but a single decade, a few mere swipes of the pendulum, we have gathered a sacrifice to Khorne that will be made legend.Though it was a simpler, weaker voice that illuminated me during my centuries upon the Judgement of Carrion... it was Khorne's messenger that showed me the true path of freedom from our pathetic corpse-Emperor.

And what is this path? This meaning, this purpose to which we gather the skulls of our foes? It is nothing. There is no meaning, no purpose. We murder. We kill. It is mindless savagery, this UNIVERSE IS MINDLESS!

In mere hours, billions will die. Innocent! Guilty! Strong and weak! Honest and deceitful! ALL of them! They will scream, they will burn, and for no purpose but that mighty Khorne may revel in their bloodshed! And united in this void of purpose, fear, or duty... we shall at long last be free!

BLOOD! FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!! SKULLS! FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!! LET... THE GALAXY... BUUUURRRRNNN!!!"

Also notable as the single longest-to-fucking-kill-boss in the history of the Dawn of War series other than [[Ulkair]]. (Not that we haven't found ways to cheese him in under five minutes, namely Tyranids spamming warriors with venom upgrades alongside Hive Lord with his anti-daemon gun) Still, pure undiluted awesome.

===In Fantasy===
'''VIKINGS!!!''' '''VIIIIIIIIIIIIKIIIIIIIIIIIIINNGSSSSSSSS!!!'''

* [[Valkia the Bloody]]: A pissed off badass Valkyrie who chooses who will fight on in the Halls of the Blood God after they die in glorious battle. She managed to kill a motherfucking DAEMON PRINCE as a lowly, un-Marked, un-augmented human in SINGLE COMBAT to earn Khorne's favour, CUT ITS FUCKING HEAD OFF, AND THEN CARRIED IT BACK TO THE NORTH TO PLACE AT THE FOOT OF THE SKULL THRONE. And then she died on the way. But Khorne was so impressed by this badassery/pissed off by her death, he resurrected her as a fucking Daemon Princess. Now she flies around the battlefields of the world slaughtering anything that looks at her funny and bearing Norsemen to the Khorne's place for a glorious afterlife of fighting and drinking. She is also far more attractive than anything of Slaanesh's menagerie, much to the Prince of Pleasure's eternal rage and the Bloodfather's great amusement, primarily due to having hair.

* Garmr Hrodvitnir: Aka Billy Squigins, A Chaos Lord of Khorne who managed to almost kill Gotrek Fucking Gurnisson in a fight. 'Nuff said.

* Hrothgar Daemonaxe: A Chaos Lord who only had his rules and miniatures released at a Games Day. He had the statline of a Bloodthirster. His miniature also depicts him throttling an elf, which makes him a good person.

* Arbaal the Undefeated: Nicknamed 'Arbaal the Easily Defeatable' due to his rules from Champions of Chaos having been shockingly awful. Arbaal's been effectively retcon'd out of existence under the excuse that he's journeyed into the Realm of Chaos to challenge Khorne himself to a fight. <s>Good luck with that.</s> It went about as well as you expected.

* [[Scyla Anfingrimm]]: The greatest [[Chaos Spawn|You-Know-What]] ever to walk the earth. Scyla was a Chaos Lord of Khorne who got one too many mutations before his time and devolved into a YKW. But he's the most badass YKW ever, and is a leadership 10 general. Which is impressive considering the only thing he can say is "'''KILL FOR KHORNE! KILL FOR KHORNE! KILL FOR KHORNE!'''".

* Chaos Lord Varmisgal: A Chaos Lord who's blood has turned to liquid bronze. He is responsible for the stalking brass bull of Nuln and the great raid into the Misty Mountains... it is also alleged he ate his own penis.

* Valmir Aesling: A Norscan king and Champion of Khorne who destroyed the Norse Dwarf Hold of Kraka Drak. Managed to get a fucking Daemon Prince to work for him, slaughtered a metric fuck-ton of Norse Dwarfs (roughly 8 times the manliness of a regular Dwarf and thus worth 24 Space Wolves). [[Awesome|Also rode a motherfucking chariot pulled by skinless bears]].

* Egil Styrbjorn: A Norscan High Yarl of the Skaeligs and probably the greatest epitome of manliness a Chaos Warrior devoted to Khorne can achieve. He slew a lot and took names, kicked Bretonnian arses, sexed many women(all which said was impotent and didnt really find pleasure in, poor guy) yet never got a proper heir (only daughters). It was so bad for him that he adopted a boy that became later his personal shamanistic seer and advisor...that is until he banged a Kurgan Sorceress that was prophesied by said shaman to bear Egil's son, yet the damned cheese eating surrender monkeys took her and his unborn son away, which he answered them with apocalyptic RAAAAAGE and titanic slaughter (then again, said Sorceress wanted to sacrifice the unborn child for immortality, and she was actually possessing a Bretonnian noblewoman when doing deed with Egil so Egil's son was in that Bretonnian's womb and the Bretonnian Knights were rescuing her). And thus there was an epic campaign to retrieve the boy. Wields two badass flaming axes called Garmr and Gormr. Really dislikes the Lady of the Lake and other Southerner gods. So manly he is that he let a Grail Knight stab him only to throw back his sword to him. Also known for embodying Khorne's tactical take on war, which he mercilessly used against the Bretonnian Knights that stubbornly charged his warriors head on (until said knights realized that they were duped and slaughtered in seconds).

* [[Skarr Bloodwrath]]: Deranged respawning berserker with axes that double as flails. Joined [[Archaon]]'s posse during [[The End Times]] as one of the many Khornate forces that helped hasten the end of the world.

==Fun Khorne Facts==
* Interestingly the word "Khorne" in Ancient Cypriot Greek literally means to "Shit Blood". Kh' - "To force outward", ORN - "Back passage", Ee - "Blood".
*Doombreed, Khorne's second daemon prince servant, might actually be Genghis Khan himself.
*Khorne's looking for ways to incorporate dinosaurs into his armies, due to the sheer amount of [[RIP AND TEAR]] they can unleash on their enemies. He's unbelievably pissed that he hasn't managed to get any yet- '''{{Blam|YOU GAVE IT AWAY?!?!? FFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUUUUU}}'''
*Khorne <strike>secretly</strike> ''{{Blam|BLATANTLY}}''' hates everyone who kills the defenseless in his name. He'd plot ways to kill them, but he's too mad to do that. (So what else is new?)
*Khorne was just able to stand watching Jurassic World once it got going due to the Indominus Rex and how it made everything else look like bitches. He raged when it died. He's looking for its skull 'cause he wishes he could have it as one of his servants- *sounds of swords and blood* '''{{Blam|FAGGOT!}}''' (Why couldn't Khorne just seek the skull of the Mosasaurus that killed it? Or Rexie, T-rex is classic, I hear you say.) To that, I answer that coz without the Mosasaurus then Rex would'a DIED.
*Khorne is unsure whether or not he hates [[Cultist-chan]], due to a) the fact that she can't do anything except scream about 'kap-tooring eet for kay-oss' and get purged and b) the fact that she's so good at spreading [[RAEG]] amongst various unlucky meatsacks and fa/tg/uys. And that indecisiveness makes him foam at the mouth in an unending rage.
*Khorne practically invented flipping the table when you lose at card games, or it goes too slowly. He does this whenever the major Warp entities play cards in the Formless Wastes.
*Followers of Khorne actually have the ability to pull off [[LIIVI]]/[[Eldrad]] level dick-style moves in battle. They just choose not to do this.
*Khorne wanted [[Settra the Imperishable]] as one of his servants once. However, Settra won't ever serve Khorne, even going so far as to give ALL OF CHAOS the '''motherfucking middle finger''' before going off to hunt down [[Nagash]]. That said, Settra may well be one of the few mortal beings besides his own servants Khorne has any respect for. He still hates Settra though.
*Slaanesh once created some Kayos Spess Mehreens with his/her colour scheme, but with armour nicked off fallen Khornate warriors. And when Khorne saw this, '''his wrath was legendary'''.
*Slaanesh and Khorne also have regular 'plans' on Friday night- *sounds of something even bigger than a [[Bloodthirster]] coming through and much ripping and tearing* '''{{Blam|NO! YOU'RE LYING!}}'''
* [[Emperor|That Twat With The Chair]] and Khorne haven't '''SMACKED DOWN''' yet, but Khorne is secretly looking forward to it when it happens- he wants to test Spess Jaysis's might against his own. Tickets are now on sale!
*If an internet hyperlink comes up red, it's not because the page doesn't exist, it's because Khorne looked at what was once on the other end, and '''he didn't like what he saw''', so much so that the hyperlink is stained with the blood of what once was.
* Khorne's favorite form of grouping is in ogdoads, for reasons that should be obvious once you know what that word means.
* Khorne's favorite [[video game|vidja]] was [[Doom]]. he abandoned it in a strange combination of terror and appreciation once he learned it was Biographical/Autobiographical.
* If Khorne is acting calm towards you, don't relax. He doesn't like anything, he just hates some things less than others. There is such a thing as cold-hatred.
* Khorne was '''ALMOST''' pleased when [[Iskandar Khayon]] smashed his ship, the ''Tlaloc'', into the Slaaneshi world of Harmony, killing a whole shitload of Slaaneshi fucks and breaking the planet in half. Then he remembered Khayon was a damn Thousand Son Sorcerer. Fuck.
*[[TTS|Khorne will not stab you in the back. He will simply stab you in the face until your face stops resembling a face.]]
*Very few beings have ever earned Khorne's respect. but the most notable is the '''MOTHERFUCKING DOOMGUY!!!''' (another is Valen the ancestor of [[Kharn]]).
*DOOM 2016 <s>tells of a "Wretch" who made the Doom Slayer an adamantine Amour from the deepest parts of the forges of Hell. And since Khorne CAN craft absolute destructive Weapons and impenetrable Armour...</s> (he did not make the armor for him but he approves of him using it.)
*Khorne is mixed on snipers. Partly because they sneak and hide like pussies and don't get into a proper fight, and partly because headshots ruin perfectly good skulls. However, sniping is the most skillfull form of shooting. It’s also Slaaneshi.
*Khorne's favorite author is Sun Tzu. Three guesses why if you know what he's written.
*Khorne is the patron god of Chimpanzees (no seriously, look them up; those bastards are the fucking marauding barbarians of the jungle, especially since their cousins the Bonobos seem like milktoast Slaanesh followers).
*Thanks to his relationship with Valkia the Bloody, Khorne may or may not be married to the devoted blood and gore addicted maiden of war.
*Despite his association with canines, Khorne also has a pet rabbit, which he [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmu5sRIizdw loaned out to appear in a certain comedy film].
*Khorne is also the god of tsunderes, no, seriously, as stated in a previous section, which is even further added by many tsunderes being red themed, this makes Khorne RAAAAEEEG! even more as his followers are supposed to be manly armored guys and not teen girls in school uniform, but hey, that's the internet for you!

==Gallery==
{{promotions}}
<gallery>
Klaher-baklaher-khorn.jpg
Image:Khornate.JPG|Khorne's followers off the battlefield. REVERSE ARMWRESTLE!!!
Image:khornewaffel.JPG|Waffles for the Blood God!
Image:Khornetrainer.JPG|Khorne's trainers prefer violent Pokémon.
Image:Khorne_tattoo.jpg|Mark of Khorne.
Image:Free like a riding demon by Ragathol.jpg|Khornette.
Image:Backwardsthrone.jpg|Just as Planned. Always. As. Planned.
File:Khornette.jpg|Khorne wants to know why the drawfags never give them noses.
File:Tea Time.jpg|In the grim darkness of the far future, there is still time for tea...
File:Khorne-Art.jpg|Warriors of Chaos: making everything in 40K look like bitches since 2002.
Image:You're_madder_than_Khorne.png|There '''is''' such a thing as being too mad for Khorne!
Image:Khorneholiover2.png |The [[Cornholio the Cultist|Great Khorneholio]]. He needs blood and skulls for his bunghole.
Image:Khorne-and-Slaanesh.jpg|Nine months later Khaine was born...
Image:Anon_pleases_Khorne.png|Who knew Berzerkers came in ''Shrimp'' size?
Image:Khorne Flakes.jpg|The tastiest of all! Add blood for more flavor.
Image:Khorne_flakes.jpg|Literal <s>corn</s> Khorne Flake Cake! Some absolute madlad/madlass actually did it!
Image:Khorny Meme.jpg|Whoever made this has too much time on their hands. And access to imgflip.
</gallery>

==See also==

*[[Brass]]
*[[Berserker]] - Chaos Space Marines with Axes and a bad attitude.
*[[Angron]] - Daemon prince of Khorne and the Primarch of World Eaters.
*[[World Eaters]]
*[[Khârn|Khârn the Betrayer]] - A pretty fun guy to be around.
*[[Valkia the Bloody]] - Scarousal in it's purest form.
*[[Warhammer_40,000/Tactics/Khorne_Daemonkin(7E)|Tactics/Khorne Daemonkin]] - That's right, meatsacks! The servants of Khorne have their own codex!
*[[Age of Sigmar/Tactics/Chaos/Blades of Khorne|Tactics/Blades of Khorne]] - Khorne's servants in AoS.
*[[Rage]]
*[[Sorcerers of Khorne]] - Double heresy!
*[[Doombreed]] - One angry son of a bitch.
*[[Doom|the one guy Khorne respects]]
* This pretty much sums up his forces: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-gSJW3sHXE&feature=channel_video_title
*[[Katanas_are_Underpowered_in_d20#Khorne_is_underpowered_in_40k|Khorne is underpowered in 40k]]
* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vljHBXA3UKE - death metal song devoted to Khorne.
* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ml3sjEiViXc - better death metal song.
* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8mEOiI4pjs - thrash metal song summing up Khorne pretty well.
* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edNUp4GkukI - can't forget the blackened thrash.
* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUB9QGKCNmI - a bunch of anime Khorne worshippers. Better than it sounds.
* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8mEOiI4pjs - another metal song devoted to Khorne. GW actually commissioned this one. Yes, they really were that awesome back in the day.

{{Template:ChaosGods}}
[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]][[Category:Age of Sigmar]][[Category:Blades of Khorne]]

Khorne

2021-03-05T01:06:58Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D: /* Khorne's take on magic */

[[File:Khorne mark.png|center]]
{{heresy}}
{{awesome}}
[[File:khorne_by_baklaher-d7335e6.jpg|500px|thumb|right|Special K in all his glory, Sitting comfortably on his Skull Throne, being pissed off at everyone and everything, because to him it's all bullshit]]<div style="font-size:1.10em;font-weight:bold;font-style:italic;font-family:serif;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em"> BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! - The creed of Khorne being Overused to Death'''</div>

{{Topquote|Anger, which, far sweeter than trickling drops of honey, rises in the bosom of a man like smoke.|Homer}}

{{Topquote|The important thing in life is not victory but combat: it is not to have vanquished but to have fought well.|Pierre de Coubertin}}

==Introduction==
[[RAGE|'''Khorne''']], also known as Kharnath, Arkhar, Khorgar, [[Viking|Kjorn]], Khar, the Great Brass Bull, the Bloody Handed, the Axefather, the Bloodwolf, The Great Khorneholio, Special K, the [[Ulric|Wolf-Father]], Frowny Face McMurderaxe, Sergeant Slaughter, the Lord of Fighters, the Messiah of Mayhem, Call of Duty: Demon DLC, [[If the Emperor had a Text-to-Speech Device|The Paraplegic Sociopath]], [[If_the_Emperor_had_a_Text-to-Speech_Device|MegaSatan]], Definitely not fucking Khaine, [[Dwarf Fortress|Armok]], Stone Cold Steve Austin, Khornelias Fudge, Kellogg's Khorneflakes, Big Red, Chile Con Carnage, Daddy’s little princess (HEY, FUCK YOU!) and 8860 other names is the [[Chaos God]] of war, murder, savagery, hatred (though he is starting to question that one at times thinking it belongs more to [[Slaanesh|his arch enemy]] than it does him), murder, destruction, rage, wrath, murder, battle, barbarism and [[Vance Motherfucking Stubbs|manliness]]...oh and did we mention murder. He is also the mofo that the Klingons worship. As well as this he symbolises courage, athleticism, determination, daring, discipline, sportsmanship, honor, impulsiveness, struggling onward in the face of any odds, and survival of the fittest. But mostly he's simply about being angry.

He is commonly held to be the strongest [[Chaos]] God by default (though this is technically incorrect) and is associated with wolves and powerful hunting dogs, as well as lions and bulls. For another reason that is likely inspired by occultism, Khorne's sacred numbers Four and eight - and thus, his followers tend to organize themselves into groups of fours, eights and their multiples. Fun fact, this also means that the names of Khornate daemons are usually comprised of eight letters...Though exceptions exist. (The Chinese, Vietnamese, and Koreans value the number 8 due to its similarity with the Chinese character for prosperity does that make them Khornate worshippers?)
[[File:SkullThrone.jpg|400px|right|thumb|The Big K in all his glory contemplating on whose rectum he is going to shove his chainaxe into with extreme prejudice.(Spoiler: its everyone)]]
Khorne, by virtue of being the most prominent Chaos God, is also the second most powerful general "deity" in both iterations of Warhammer (Nurgle has him beat but only because of the fact that everything eventually comes to him) In both versions of Warhammer, his followers are characterized by an overbearing need to spill blood and engage in honest battle, as well as a violent code of martial honour and a "survival of the fittest" approach to morality. They tend to be dutiful, as well, but said duties involve whacking their axes into their enemy and painting their blood all over villages gargling their blood as mouthwash (if only because Khorne's only real command is to spill worthy blood in his name).

This is where Khorne and Slaanesh generally clash directly and openly as enemy gods, aside from the fact that everyone in the warp hates Slaanesh. While Khorne instills discipline, honor and a sense of selfless duty in his followers to obey a single purpose (usually spill blood in his name), Slaanesh is the polar opposite. Slaanesh instead tells his/her followers to do <strike>whoever</strike> whatever they want in their own selfish pursuit of pleasure, caring not for the consequences of their actions (e.g; using your authority to hoard food from your starving citizens, so you can indulge in bottomless gluttony every day).

This is also why Khorne is at odds with Tzeentch: Tzeentch sees things like honor and discipline as unnecessary hamstrings towards one's advancement and opts that everything is on the table when one wishes to further their position (why duel your Lord for his position when you could arrange for an "accident" to befall him, instead? Sure its a low-blow, but if your lord was too stupid to see that car bomb coming, was he really deserving of loyalty?). The same can be said of his disdain for sorcery. Tzeentch thinks that mortals using the power of the gods themselves is fair game in their pursuit of progress (so long as you can control it), while Khorne thinks that using anything else but your own strength alone means you are weak and his "survival of the fittest" ideal has no place for you.
That being said they have some points they agree on. for example using the power of the gods to augment your abilities (i.e. Cloaking your weapons in Warp-fire or Warp-Lightning), can be interpreted as simply using your power to control the power of the gods for your benefit. They also think it looks awesome, And Khorne is perfectly fine with using underhanded methods to deal with someone who is not worth your time (i.e. A “governor” of Jopall), which Tzeentch finds interesting.

Khorne also has the distinction of being the only Chaos God (or any god for that matter) whose word you can take at face value. The other gods don't realize that disdain for scheming and backstabbing isn't the same as being stupid. Nor do they realize that over-complicating things is actually the worst thing a planner can do. The more unnecessary variables to a plan, the easier it is for something to break. ([[Just as Planned|that said Tzeentchian plans have divination included into them, eliminating most tactical miscalculations]], [[Not as Planned|unless Tzeentch wanted it to happen.]]). So - you actually want results? Be practical. Involve only as many steps as you need. Beat someone until they're reduced to a bloody smear on the ground - no step 2 required.

Basically, Khorne isn't a stupid brute, he's actually pretty smart. The god of battles knows a thing or two about tactics and warfare. That said, Khorne's doctrine is inflexible. One, straightforward approach to anything. Simply put: Break everything in half. Which means that it all rides on an "all-or-nothing" deal. If his battering ram approach doesn't work there's little to be done to salvage the situation beyond everyone dying a glorious death. Usually this isn't the case for most battles, the Khornates' overwhelming need to quench their bloodlust gets in the way of reorganization. Of course, if things go according to plan, there are only few things that can stop the demonically-possessed no brakes hate train.

If Khorne had a voice actor it would have been BRIAN BLESSED but BRIAN chose Gotrek instead, the rejection sending Khorne's rage to new heights (unsubstantiated rumors say Khorne's considered sending Skulltaker and Karnak after BRIAN BLESSED, but Khorne realized all he'll get from that is two dead daemons with burst eardrums).

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8ZqFlw6hYg Here is his theme song.]
===Appearance===
Khorne is described as resembling a giant, iron-hewed warrior clad in red armour, with a massive sword and a winged helm that conceals a snarling face like that of a wolf. This humanoid form could be seen as something darkly meaningful, were it not for the fact that more or less everyone in both settings is conveniently human-shaped.
[[File:Khorne First.jpg|thumb|right|400px|The first depiction of Khorne in Warhammer art.]]
Of course, most artists at GW forget that he's supposed to look a giant Chaos Warrior and instead make him look like an overgrown Bloodthirster on a chair.

===Khorne and His Worship===
Khorne is the easiest god ever to worship. Where [[Tzeentch|other]], [[Slaanesh|more]] [[Nurgle|pussified]] gods may demand you to memorize overly long prayers and hymns, or to build huge houses of worship and other such unmanly bullshit, Khorne is venerated with one thing and one thing only: the time-honoured tradition of [[rip and tear|hack'n'slash]].

Khorne is worshipped on the battlefield. His hymns are the sound of steel on steel, his sacraments are the blows of hammer and axe, his only prayer the bellowing of the warcry "Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!" and his libation is the blood spilled in his name.

In essence, you worship Khorne by being a good warrior. And as a warrior, you'll find your interests and his tend to generally align; he wants death but isn't picky on who, and you want to live to fight another day. Thus, the mere act of preserving your life will earn the pleasure of the god of battle. In a setting where there is no peace, only war, Khorne is always going to be massively powerful. Further, most of the armies embody one of his aspects - [[Space Marine|Powerful]] and [[Necron|fearless]] warriors are the [[Chaos|chosen]] of Khorne, but he favors those who use [[Ork|brute force assaults]] carried out with [[Tyranid|singular purpose and no remorse]] just as well. [[Just As Planned|Khorne wins in fights his forces weren't even involved in]].

However, Khorne is one of those honourable war-gods. So don't think that beating your enemies by anything other than sheer strength, skill and aggression will make him happy. And for the love of Sigmar/Emprah, don't try to cheat by picking fights with the weak or helpless or by giving him baby skulls. Khorne expects a form of savage, viking-esque dignity from his followers and for them to be generally [[Fist of the North Star|manly]], this means you have to fight worthy opponents and those generally able to at least hold up a sword. ''Only after'' the worthwhile enemies are out of the way; then you can gorge yourself on the blood of women and children all you want (or make them fight amongst themselves and recruit the survivors, or enslave them, or whatever). Most of the writers forget this, thinking that Khorne really gives no fucks about what you kill, and it makes Khorne [[Rage|snarl in anger]]. Though he continues to send his flesh-hounds to hunt down those who flee and abandon their brothers on the battlefield, be they Chaos or non-Chaos.

Aside from that and (obviously) never backing down from a fight, Khorne has no commandments whatsoever. But deviating from the aforementioned in the slightest is begging for the flesh-hounds to tear your ass apart.

Such as it is, it would be incorrect to think Khorne doesn't have priests dedicated to him. Though, being a warrior god, these priests tend to be warriors themselves and are often marked by their god. In essence, the only difference between them and a Chaos marauder/Space Marine is several pounds of armour. In Warhammer Fantasy, these priests are called 'Bloodfathers', and in lieu of magic that is gifted to their priests by other gods, Khorne just gives [[AWESOME|HOLYSHITAWESOME]] fighting skills and visions of bloodshed. In [[Age of Sigmar]], they're called Slaughterpriests and they basically lead by example, killing while screaming out Khorne's name. If the killing is good enough, Khorne will empower the priest and/or his allies; but if the killing is unworthy, the priest himself will feel Khorne's wrath.

Khorne is also venerated by working brass into your armour and weapons and donning fashionable high collars. Occasionally, a warrior so pleases Khorne that he gifts him with specially made ones that in addition to looking fabulous can also grant total fucking immunity to magic. After all, who needs spellcasting when you can make a motherfucker's spine disappear - with your bare hands no less?

Anyway, Khorne is worshiped by warriors, generals and basically anyone who likes battle. His chosen Space Marines legion is of course the World Eaters, in Warhammer Fantasy, the Norscans tend to venerate him with the greatest piety, especially the Aesling tribe, who are Khorne's most devoted servants in Fantasy.

===Khorne's take on magic===
As posted some time ago by an Anon who managed to perfectly sum up what Khorne's opinion on magic is: FUCK WIZARDS!!!!

While that's a pretty accurate summation, there's also some nuance to it that is not at all helped by GW's habit of changing things every new edition or keeping shit consistent between writers. With that in mind, let's get into the details of what the "FUCK WIZARDS" thing means.

The hate of psykers/wizards/etc is pretty much the exact same and works by the same logic for both Khornates and the Adepta Sororitas/Black Templars/etc: it's a [[Conan the Barbarian|Conan-esque]] swords and sorcery thing. Khornates hate wizards for [[3e|trivializing encounters with a single spell and overshadowing fighters]] and turning what should be a clash of might or a military endeavor into a weird wizard show where people turn into frogs and beguile their opponents into killing one another. They hate Slaaneshi for the same reason, due to how they often take what should be a wholesome murderfest and make it into something creepy and weird, what with them "discomporting themselves with the dead" and all that. In Realms of Chaos, its entirely possible for a librarian or wizard to go to Khorne; they just refrain from using their psi/magic powers for anything else but resisting spells in combat from that point onward.

Khorne and his followers are okay with laser beams. They are okay with sniper rifles ([https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ygHaGY85e-U| as long both you and your opponent have them]). They are okay with flaming swords. They are okay with running people over with tanks. They are okay with blitzkriegs. They are okay with chemical gas. <s>They are okay with holocausts</s> we do '''not''' target civilians, or discriminate...that often. They are okay with exterminatus. They are okay with good tactics. They are okay with berserker charges. They are okay with honorable duels at dawn.

They are ''not'' okay with turning people to frogs, mind control, raining glitterdust from the skies to blind everyone, raising armies of zombies to do the killing for you, and so forth. They are not okay with someone pointing a finger and their opponent dropping dead. And they are most definitely not okay with someone who got their power solely by bargaining with daemons instead of earning it themselves. (While it's quite possible to get power via daemonic bargains and not earn Khorne's ire, that requires you to have already become a powerful fighter or be willing to risk death and inflict grievous bodily harm on others, i.e. ''earning'' it.)

They are okay with daemonic summoning rituals because Khorne's daemons are all about the hack-and-slash ultraviolence. They are okay with using psychic abilities or daemonic aid to navigate the warp because that means they don't end up crashing into suns or getting whisked to some distant corner of the universe where there's nothing worthwhile to kill. They are okay with sending and receiving astropathic messages because they recognize the value of relatively fast interstellar communication. They are okay with chaining wizards up and forcing them to eternally forge magic items on pain of death because that lets the fighters kill things more easily.

One may consider it hypocritical that Khornates are okay with blatantly unfair TECHNOLOGICAL murder, but not okay with blatantly unfair MIND/MAGICAL murder. The point, or at least one interpretation, is that wizards/psykers fucking cheat. They do. They steal the power of the Warp for their own ends. As long as they stay in line, and do nothing but permit the warrior to enact his craft as he so wills, fine, let them live (albeit in terror and likely enslaved by chains of brass) until the day they are no longer useful, at which point their skulls can join Khorne's throne.

But stealing the Gods' own fire and using it to do what mortals should do through their own skill and strength is unacceptable. Remember that technology is completely valid to Khorne. Stealth is completely valid to Khorne. Skill is completely valid to Khorne. Cleverness is completely valid to Khorne. The nuclear bomb and other innovations that come after it could be seen to be unfair. But it is a mortal invention. Mortals should give honor to Khorne by murdering each other through the sweat of their brow. Granted the lines got pretty blurry when AoS introduced the Slaughterpriest.

The scientist who devises new ways to kill is a saint. His work can be put to any other use -- [[Slaanesh|enriching human life]], [[Nurgle|ending hunger, fighting diseases]], [[Tzeentch|answering great questions]]. But the scientist who devises new bombs and weapons is, in his own way, a champion of Khorne. He takes his limitless human potential and nobly limits himself to new ways to kill. Whether you kill with a sword or a bomb, you are killing using good old fashioned mortal strength and genius. You aren't stealing warp energy from the gods in the form of a fireball and cravenly calling it your own.

The forger of enchanted weapons, though deserving of slavery and abuse as all wizards are until the day they die, is an ideal symbol. It is fitting that spell energy is subjugated to and entombed within cold steel, just as wizards deserve to be subjugated to warriors until they lie cold and headless in the ground or else burnt to ash. The magic weapon is a symbol of might's superiority to magic.

The jury is still out on how okay Khorne is with magically imbued people who didn't get their power from him, but [[Tzeentch|given]] [[Nurgle|the]] [[Slaanesh|other]] [[God-Emperor_of_Mankind|possible]] [[Sigmar|benefactors]], he's probably not the biggest fan.

Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne! When the Galaxy burns, we will define righteousness!

tl;dr Magic is unmanly, grab a sword (or a 16-inch battleship cannon, if that's your thing) and go kill like a real man already.

===Khorne and other Chaos gods===
As a rule, Khorne despises [[Slaanesh]] because they're an effeminate milk-sop who can't grow a beard or swing an axe like they've got a pair (even though Slaanesh probably has the biggest pair, but less on that), and also because he personifies acting outwardly (ie: seeking the deaths of others), while Slaanesh acts inwardly (ie: seeking their own pleasure). Khorne also finds Slaanesh's obsession with luxury and torture wasteful and dishonorable. Slaanesh is about living it up while Khorne is about tearing it the fuck down. Not to mention its apparent belief that those who wrong you are meant to suffer for it, which Khorne surprisingly doesn't agree with. One of the few Slaaneshi things Khorne ''doesn't'' have a problem with is the desire for perfection in battle; spending year after year training to master an aspect of combat, constantly pushing your limits and never being satisfied until you get it ''just right'' is a perfectly acceptable way to live, so long as you remember to shed blood and take skulls.

Khorne also hates [[Tzeentch]] - though they are not fundamental rivals - because his reliance on magic is seen as a sign of weakness and his desire not to face his foes in person is decried by Khorne as cowardly. Khorne sees his penchant for deceit and trickery as dishonorable. Also, Khorne prefers muscles over books (plus Tzeentch is a huge NEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD). Tactics and stratagems are all well and good because that's how armies win and seemingly-doomed warriors eke out a victory against seemingly-impossible odds.

Khorne thinks he hates [[Nurgle]] also, because while the ability to endure immense pain is good - great, even! - and calmly acknowledging defeat is just as acceptable as trying to kill your opponent with the last dregs of strength your dying body has left, the fat fuck doesn't even try to get shit done. Thus, his embodiment as sloth runs contrary to the active, vital aspect of Khorne, but he's all for death if its by homicide or genocide.

There's also [[Solkan]], the not-Chaos Chaos God of Law and a rival of Khorne, being the only Chaos god that can match him in sheer RAAAAEG. Khorne likes to sit back and have a chuckle at Solkan's outbursts, if only because the last time he actually tried to move in on Solkan's turf he lost that fight. Not even the Blood God can top the sexually frustrated wrath of a guy looking for his [[Arianka|sisterwife]].

Of all the Chaos gods, Khorne actually hates [[Malal]] the least. For one thing, he respects the lost god for sticking to his guns: he hates the other gods, wants them dead and is actively working towards that goal. Since Nurgle just sits there being a scabby procrastinator, Tzeentch just has to have his fingers in everyone's business and Slaanesh is fucking Slaanesh (really, they are), this is something Khorne can sympathize with. Also, Malal is one of the only chaos gods to put up a halfway decent fight when Khorne manages to find him, which would mean that they would be best buds if Malal wasn't a self-destructive, omnicidal lunatic.

In short, he has problems with almost everyone and pissed at almost everyone, including you even if you worship him (usually it's a matter of how pissed he is at you). And they hate him too, except for Nurgle, who's too nice to hate anyone. If you earn his respect however, he will give you it (he has high standards though, meeting them is quite hard.)

===Khorne and non-Chaotic Gods===
Well, [[Ulric]] is his little brother and they tend to get along rather well. Ulric's still ridiculing Khorne over the fact that one of his greatest champions, Haargroth, got his head smashed in by Ulric's Ar-Ulric, Khorne usually replies by pointing out that ''Storm of Chaos'' isn't canon anymore. Not that that stops Ulric. Khorne and Ulric often get into arguments over which one of them is moar Viking; with Khorne usually winning by pointing out that his top worshipers actually are Vikings and that he has a Valkyrie. They also settle this with arm wrestling and drinking contests. There's a lot of belligerence, but you can sense the brotherly love underneath. Indeed, it's kind of a [[Fist of the North Star|Raoh/Ken relationship]].

Despite both being war-gods, Khorne has a poor relationship with [[Myrmidia]]. Khorne, despite being a master of tactics and sieges and the finer points of warfare, vastly prefers a manly head-on charge, and Myrmidia's sissy "planning" approach to warfare therefore offends Khorne. Most meetings between the Blood God and the Maiden of Strategy end with the Blood God fuming impotently because his strict code of martial honour does not permit him to hit girls (or pull their hair) and retreating to his tree house.

Khorne is the only Chaos God who tolerates Sigmar because he thinks he's pretty bad-ass AND respects the idea of a mortal man becoming a god. That and Sigmar's comic book series, Sigmar the Emprahrian, has great splashpages of fights and no SWORDSWORDSWORDS. However, this tolerance is only one-sided, and while Khorne respects him, it doesn't mean he won't try to put an axe in his head for being an sworn enemy of Chaos.

When asked about the [[Emperor]], Khorne usually responds with a streaming torrent of bloody curses and oaths which causes a bloody froth to start leaking from his helmet. In short, he is remarkably indifferent to the old man. Ironically, they share many of the same beliefs: They both disliked psykers, they both have a kick ass thrones, and they both have units dedicated to close combat. Hell, even the Emprah's head is a skull. What's not to like...oh maybe the fact that he's a COMPLETE FUCKING HYPOCRITE!

Khorne is utterly sick and tired of anyone who dares associate him with [[Khaine|40Khaine]]. Before eviscerating anyone who makes that connection, he will often give a short PowerPoint presentation, explaining how Khaine is an honourless god of murder and sadism while he himself is a god of honourable and forthright battle and courage, and how sadism is contrary to his code (Khorne indeed used to be about honorable combat, but now he's just about mindless violence and hating everyone for either piss-poor reasons or for no reason at all. Goddammit, GW). Khorne then reiterates that Khaine's elfishness and love for scantily clad women is sickening and makes him more like Slaanesh and trashes the elf god in a brutal punching bag sorta way like the prince of pleasure... Of course, this is just a front on Khorne's part. Khaine's love of war combined with his elfness and that his most ardent worshippers are scantily-clad women proves Khaine to be the secret love-child of Khorne and Slaanesh (tsundere confir- *sounds of violent, painful evisceration* '''{{Blam|WHO DARES? IN MY OWN PAGE, OF ALL THINGS? FUCK YOUUUUUUUU}}''' '''''[[Slaanesh|Search your feelings you know it to be true]]. Actually, if you consider Ka'Bandha is tsundere for the Blood Angels and Angron was for Horus to the point during the Siege of Terra he made him feel ashamed for implying he didn't trust him AND the natural state of tsunderes is raging, insulting and violent, well...

That being said, Khaine does have a dual nature in Fantasy thanks to being worshiped by [[Dark Elves]] and paid respect to by [[High Elves]], where one side is indeed honorable and just wants to keep fighting and being badass which means Khorne can tolerate him approximately half the time. The fact that both are patrons of [[Blood Bowl]] teams is usually the common ground, with Khaine and Khorne crashing/trashing some other God's house to watch on game nights while downing can after can of Bloodweisers and shoveling Dwarf Rinds in their faces. Khaine periodically tries to invade the realm of Khorne whenever the Khornate team beats the Dark Elf team, with such meetings ending with Kaine being khorne punching bag and letting his servants brutally take their anger on the incapacitated god and his elven servants. When Khaine's team beats Khorne's, Khorne takes out his aggression by beating the fuck out of Slaanesh (no homo) while Dark Elves go on safari hunting [[Warriors of Chaos|Khorne's worshipers]].

Khorne has absolutely no patience for the [[Horned Rat]], who is a favorite of Nurgle and Tzeentch respectively. It's a weak vermin whose very existence pisses him off. As a result, Khorne is much more fond of [[Sotek]] who encourages killing the fuck out of [[Skaven]] whenever they appear, and is also a fan of blood sacrifice (the fact that Sotek wants hearts and cares nothing for skulls is reassuring since they don't intrude on each other's fetish); this fondness is entirely one-sided.

Like the other Chaos Gods, Khorne has no fucking clue what the Great Maw is. However, it doesn't seem to complain when [[Ogre Kingdoms|Ogres]] worship Khorne, so he's got nothing against him...her...it...schclim...whatever, the big god-thing that wants to eat.

The pantheon of the [[Tomb Kings]] mostly stick to themselves, so Khorne only knows they exist..

Khorne is impressed with the [[Bretonnia|Bretonnian]] race by the fact they're the epitome of honor and glorious valor. On the other hand, their entire race has been tricked by a single fucking Elf Goddess into doing their every command which fills Khorne with incomprehensible fury. As it stands, the first being that's going to get the axe when Khorne manages to get an avatar to manifest in the material plane is Lileath.

[[Mork]] and [[Gork]]/Gork and Mork are Khorne's old drinking buddies. They piss him off more than any other beings in existence, but after a good 3-way beatdown and a few billion cases of squig beer he realizes they're alright company.

Khorne has a feeling that he'd get along with the gods of the [[Dwarfs]], but even their introductions (being long ass winded descriptions of their primary worshipers and their lineages) irritate him so much he can't even get into a conversation with them. One of them is STILL giving his own introduction, and has been for about 20,000 years or so now (and he hasn't even reached the changes that have happened since he started). Unable to make him aware of what's going on around him, Khorne simply moved him into the guest room and bricked it off with a wall of skulls.

As for the [[Tyranid|Bugs?]], Khorne hates them '''''Especially''''' due to them not having real blood, just vile alien ichor.

==His portrayal in Warhammer Fantasy==
He's a half-way mythologically accurate version of [[Viking|Odin]], whose very name means Fury (and one translation means 'frenzy'). You could also make the case that Khorne is Thor minus any protective instincts towards humanity, as both are whirling vortices of blood and spit who are associated with the colour red and its connotation of anger.

No, that's it. Get the fuck out; he's an axe-crazy, psychopathic, evil-as-balls daemonic version of Odin - so basically the Norse god of wisdom, with wisdom actually treated the way Vikings would have recognized. Currently there's a bit of a debate about how much of Odin he represents (see discussion page) so this bit will list the similarities and some of the differences.

Well, for one thing, Chaos worshipers in Warhammer Fantasy actually are Vikings. Read about them [[Warriors of Chaos|here]]. Secondly, Khorne is closely associated with wolves in that setting (one of Odin's names literally translates to 'Battle Wolf'), and even has a wolf-like pet in Karanak, thus, fulfilling a role similar to Freki and Geri, or more closely, Garmr (having three heads, Karnak also parallels Cerberus from Greek Mythology). Also, it's revealed in Knight of the Realm that Khorne owns two hunting wolves/giant fleshhounds called Garmr and Gormr, with whom he partakes in a wild hunt across the heavens.

Another point of similarity is that both Odin and Khorne are war gods explicitly connected with berserker rage. They have their own warrior-cults associated with them who fight with said rage and Odin's Olfhednar are practically the same as Khorne's Chosen in both form and function.

Additionally, thanks to Valkia, Khorne also has a Valkyrie to further the similarity between him and Odin. This was inevitable, of course, given that the Warriors of Chaos are indeed an evil version of the Vikings as has already been stated. It should also be noted that Valkia's similarity to the Valkyries is not a superficial one. She is actually referred to as 'the Sword-Maiden of the Blood God' in the WoC codex, and is Khorne's Chooser of the Slain who carries those worthy champions and warriors of his to fight on in the Blood God's halls after death.

Finally, we got a glimpse of his neck of the Realm of Chaos in the Valkia novel written by Sarah Cock-well. It was basically Chaos Valhalla, and here's some of his quotes:

"A cleaved head no longer plots." "A head stuck on a pike no longer conspires." "Put to the sword they who disagree."

Now for the differences, aside from the obvious physical ones Odin also scries, it's woman's magic taught to him by Frigg and Freya. He's got the rage, yeah, but he's also all about fate and averting ragnarok, (directly opposed to Khorne's goals) even if he knows he can't stop it since fate works that way; in that regard Khorne is more like Surtr from Norse Mythology (the fiery giant who wages war and brings flames that would consume the Earth - the instigator of Ragnarok). We see this in the Havamal, Grimnismal, the Voluspa, and the Lokasenna. Hell, in Lokasenna, we learn he cross dresses, ie was tied into shamanic practices (Indo-Europeans have a thing for seers in drag). He can also get to Tzeentch levels with his planning and Odin's perfectly fine with Runic magic, whereas Khorne hates that shit.

==Champions Of Khorne==
===In 40K===

* [[Kharn the Betrayer]]: Embodiment of Crazy Awesome and Patron Saint of fun guys everywhere. Kharn is Khorne's greatest mortal champion in 40K and has a wholly deserved reputation as a team-killing nutso. Once upon a time, Kharn was a straight-laced, meticulous Assault Captain of the World Eaters 8th company. [[Horus Heresy|After a certain chain of events]] he dedicated himself wholly to Khorne, thus becoming one of the most fucking lethal warriors in the galaxy as well as probably the most religiously devoted of Khorne's servants. Also notable for shattering two entire Space Marine legions by himself with a flamethrower in a single night. Despite this, since his first appearance (where he was no different from other Berzerkers) he became more and more coolheaded when not in combat (and even then there are moments when he is coolheaded in combat). He's become a swell guy because of this.

* [[Angron]]: '''HE! GETS! SHIT! DONE!!!''''. Khorne's foremost Daemon Prince alongside Doombreed. PERIOD.

* [[Doombreed]]: Khorne's greatest Daemon Prince ever and possibly either Genghis Khan or Turgeis the Devil IRL (probably Genghis Khan, Turgeis the Devil's infamy mostly came from cowardly tactics - he attacked churches because non-combatants like clergymen and monks didn't put up the best fights and to steal all the holy relics and decoration made from precious metals). Notable for launching an actually successful Dark Crusade that wiped out two Space Marine chapters. Which is more than a [[Abaddon|certain armless failure has pulled off]].

* [[Svane Vulfbad]]: EVEN IN 40K KHORNE'S CHOSEN ARE VIKINGS. Svane Vulfbad was a motherfucking badass [[Awesome|Chaos Terminator Space Wolf Chaos Lord]] who grew tired of the Imperium's sickening effeminate inability to GET SHIT DONE and the Space Wolves' sickening fur-fetishes and instead decided to dedicated himself to a god worthy of his kickassery. He thus became a badass Chaos Lord dedicated to Khorne (because a berserker god of war who likes axes meshes well with Vikings) and was killed, anticlimactically, by a thunderbolt while fighting Harald Deathwolf.

* [[Crull]]: A Chaos Lord from Winter Assault notable only for making idiotic statements, and utilizing Sorcerers in his warband when there's some possessing to be done. Also has a weird way of saying "drown".

* [[Azariah Kyras]]: A Librarian who somehow became a Champion of Khorne and who ascended to daemonhood. Presumably, his [[Awesome|speaking skills were great enough that the Blood God was able to give him slight leeway in regards to the 'no Psyker rule']], likely because he was a philosopher of carrion and slaughter, showing Khorne's way as freedom, freedom in meaningless, in mindlessness, which he accuses the functionings of the universe of. Khorne loves that stuff, existentialism for skulls, especially when it's an arch-traitor responsible for the deaths of billions, then declaring openly his allegience of Chaos to his fellow Mehreens as he is about to ascend as one of the most powerful daemon princes ever. A psyker who uses psykic powers to bring about good old kinetic Exterminatus, their reputation to raise covert cults of slaughter, discover their lust for combat and seek to encompass it, and ultimatedly be the poster child of Khornist Existentialism is too good of a chance for Khorne to pass up, who either wins against the galaxy or gets to devour Kyras' soul in a good long bloodbashing and probably still make a good Greater Daemon of Khorne out of him, probably the one and only Chaos tactical genius who could actually lead a Black Crusade properly. That's another reason Khorne likes him. Kyras' no funny business style of simply tearing a sector apart however possible tends to draw other Chaos God devotees under the wing of a Khornate champion. Here is the speech of doom that he gives the player's army (before the last level of the game ) or per canon, the Blood Ravens following Captain Diomedes before the climax:

"Faithful... enlightened... ambitious... brethren.

In but a single decade, a few mere swipes of the pendulum, we have gathered a sacrifice to Khorne that will be made legend.Though it was a simpler, weaker voice that illuminated me during my centuries upon the Judgement of Carrion... it was Khorne's messenger that showed me the true path of freedom from our pathetic corpse-Emperor.

And what is this path? This meaning, this purpose to which we gather the skulls of our foes? It is nothing. There is no meaning, no purpose. We murder. We kill. It is mindless savagery, this UNIVERSE IS MINDLESS!

In mere hours, billions will die. Innocent! Guilty! Strong and weak! Honest and deceitful! ALL of them! They will scream, they will burn, and for no purpose but that mighty Khorne may revel in their bloodshed! And united in this void of purpose, fear, or duty... we shall at long last be free!

BLOOD! FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!! SKULLS! FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!! LET... THE GALAXY... BUUUURRRRNNN!!!"

Also notable as the single longest-to-fucking-kill-boss in the history of the Dawn of War series other than [[Ulkair]]. (Not that we haven't found ways to cheese him in under five minutes, namely Tyranids spamming warriors with venom upgrades alongside Hive Lord with his anti-daemon gun) Still, pure undiluted awesome.

===In Fantasy===
'''VIKINGS!!!''' '''VIIIIIIIIIIIIKIIIIIIIIIIIIINNGSSSSSSSS!!!'''

* [[Valkia the Bloody]]: A pissed off badass Valkyrie who chooses who will fight on in the Halls of the Blood God after they die in glorious battle. She managed to kill a motherfucking DAEMON PRINCE as a lowly, un-Marked, un-augmented human in SINGLE COMBAT to earn Khorne's favour, CUT ITS FUCKING HEAD OFF, AND THEN CARRIED IT BACK TO THE NORTH TO PLACE AT THE FOOT OF THE SKULL THRONE. And then she died on the way. But Khorne was so impressed by this badassery/pissed off by her death, he resurrected her as a fucking Daemon Princess. Now she flies around the battlefields of the world slaughtering anything that looks at her funny and bearing Norsemen to the Khorne's place for a glorious afterlife of fighting and drinking. She is also far more attractive than anything of Slaanesh's menagerie, much to the Prince of Pleasure's eternal rage and the Bloodfather's great amusement, primarily due to having hair.

* Garmr Hrodvitnir: Aka Billy Squigins, A Chaos Lord of Khorne who managed to almost kill Gotrek Fucking Gurnisson in a fight. 'Nuff said.

* Hrothgar Daemonaxe: A Chaos Lord who only had his rules and miniatures released at a Games Day. He had the statline of a Bloodthirster. His miniature also depicts him throttling an elf, which makes him a good person.

* Arbaal the Undefeated: Nicknamed 'Arbaal the Easily Defeatable' due to his rules from Champions of Chaos having been shockingly awful. Arbaal's been effectively retcon'd out of existence under the excuse that he's journeyed into the Realm of Chaos to challenge Khorne himself to a fight. <s>Good luck with that.</s> It went about as well as you expected.

* [[Scyla Anfingrimm]]: The greatest [[Chaos Spawn|You-Know-What]] ever to walk the earth. Scyla was a Chaos Lord of Khorne who got one too many mutations before his time and devolved into a YKW. But he's the most badass YKW ever, and is a leadership 10 general. Which is impressive considering the only thing he can say is "'''KILL FOR KHORNE! KILL FOR KHORNE! KILL FOR KHORNE!'''".

* Chaos Lord Varmisgal: A Chaos Lord who's blood has turned to liquid bronze. He is responsible for the stalking brass bull of Nuln and the great raid into the Misty Mountains... it is also alleged he ate his own penis.

* Valmir Aesling: A Norscan king and Champion of Khorne who destroyed the Norse Dwarf Hold of Kraka Drak. Managed to get a fucking Daemon Prince to work for him, slaughtered a metric fuck-ton of Norse Dwarfs (roughly 8 times the manliness of a regular Dwarf and thus worth 24 Space Wolves). [[Awesome|Also rode a motherfucking chariot pulled by skinless bears]].

* Egil Styrbjorn: A Norscan High Yarl of the Skaeligs and probably the greatest epitome of manliness a Chaos Warrior devoted to Khorne can achieve. He slew a lot and took names, kicked Bretonnian arses, sexed many women(all which said was impotent and didnt really find pleasure in, poor guy) yet never got a proper heir (only daughters). It was so bad for him that he adopted a boy that became later his personal shamanistic seer and advisor...that is until he banged a Kurgan Sorceress that was prophesied by said shaman to bear Egil's son, yet the damned cheese eating surrender monkeys took her and his unborn son away, which he answered them with apocalyptic RAAAAAGE and titanic slaughter (then again, said Sorceress wanted to sacrifice the unborn child for immortality, and she was actually possessing a Bretonnian noblewoman when doing deed with Egil so Egil's son was in that Bretonnian's womb and the Bretonnian Knights were rescuing her). And thus there was an epic campaign to retrieve the boy. Wields two badass flaming axes called Garmr and Gormr. Really dislikes the Lady of the Lake and other Southerner gods. So manly he is that he let a Grail Knight stab him only to throw back his sword to him. Also known for embodying Khorne's tactical take on war, which he mercilessly used against the Bretonnian Knights that stubbornly charged his warriors head on (until said knights realized that they were duped and slaughtered in seconds).

* [[Skarr Bloodwrath]]: Deranged respawning berserker with axes that double as flails. Joined [[Archaon]]'s posse during [[The End Times]] as one of the many Khornate forces that helped hasten the end of the world.

==Fun Khorne Facts==
* Interestingly the word "Khorne" in Ancient Cypriot Greek literally means to "Shit Blood". Kh' - "To force outward", ORN - "Back passage", Ee - "Blood".
*Doombreed, Khorne's second daemon prince servant, might actually be Genghis Khan himself.
*Khorne's looking for ways to incorporate dinosaurs into his armies, due to the sheer amount of [[RIP AND TEAR]] they can unleash on their enemies. He's unbelievably pissed that he hasn't managed to get any yet- '''{{Blam|YOU GAVE IT AWAY?!?!? FFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUUUUU}}'''
*Khorne <strike>secretly</strike> ''{{Blam|BLATANTLY}}''' hates everyone who kills the defenseless in his name. He'd plot ways to kill them, but he's too mad to do that. (So what else is new?)
*Khorne was just able to stand watching Jurassic World once it got going due to the Indominus Rex and how it made everything else look like bitches. He raged when it died. He's looking for its skull 'cause he wishes he could have it as one of his servants- *sounds of swords and blood* '''{{Blam|FAGGOT!}}''' (Why couldn't Khorne just seek the skull of the Mosasaurus that killed it? Or Rexie, T-rex is classic, I hear you say.) To that, I answer that coz without the Mosasaurus then Rex would'a DIED.
*Khorne is unsure whether or not he hates [[Cultist-chan]], due to a) the fact that she can't do anything except scream about 'kap-tooring eet for kay-oss' and get purged and b) the fact that she's so good at spreading [[RAEG]] amongst various unlucky meatsacks and fa/tg/uys. And that indecisiveness makes him foam at the mouth in an unending rage.
*Khorne practically invented flipping the table when you lose at card games, or it goes too slowly. He does this whenever the major Warp entities play cards in the Formless Wastes.
*Followers of Khorne actually have the ability to pull off [[LIIVI]]/[[Eldrad]] level dick-style moves in battle. They just choose not to do this.
*Khorne wanted [[Settra the Imperishable]] as one of his servants once. However, Settra won't ever serve Khorne, even going so far as to give ALL OF CHAOS the '''motherfucking middle finger''' before going off to hunt down [[Nagash]]. That said, Settra may well be one of the few mortal beings besides his own servants Khorne has any respect for. He still hates Settra though.
*Slaanesh once created some Kayos Spess Mehreens with his/her colour scheme, but with armour nicked off fallen Khornate warriors. And when Khorne saw this, '''his wrath was legendary'''.
*Slaanesh and Khorne also have regular 'plans' on Friday night- *sounds of something even bigger than a [[Bloodthirster]] coming through and much ripping and tearing* '''{{Blam|NO! YOU'RE LYING!}}'''
* [[Emperor|That Twat With The Chair]] and Khorne haven't '''SMACKED DOWN''' yet, but Khorne is secretly looking forward to it when it happens- he wants to test Spess Jaysis's might against his own. Tickets are now on sale!
*If an internet hyperlink comes up red, it's not because the page doesn't exist, it's because Khorne looked at what was once on the other end, and '''he didn't like what he saw''', so much so that the hyperlink is stained with the blood of what once was.
* Khorne's favorite form of grouping is in ogdoads, for reasons that should be obvious once you know what that word means.
* Khorne's favorite [[video game|vidja]] was [[Doom]]. he abandoned it in a strange combination of terror and appreciation once he learned it was Biographical/Autobiographical.
* If Khorne is acting calm towards you, don't relax. He doesn't like anything, he just hates some things less than others. There is such a thing as cold-hatred.
* Khorne was '''ALMOST''' pleased when [[Iskandar Khayon]] smashed his ship, the ''Tlaloc'', into the Slaaneshi world of Harmony, killing a whole shitload of Slaaneshi fucks and breaking the planet in half. Then he remembered Khayon was a damn Thousand Son Sorcerer. Fuck.
*[[TTS|Khorne will not stab you in the back. He will simply stab you in the face until your face stops resembling a face.]]
*Very few beings have ever earned Khorne's respect. but the most notable is the '''MOTHERFUCKING DOOMGUY!!!''' (another is Valen the ancestor of [[Kharn]]).
*DOOM 2016 <s>tells of a "Wretch" who made the Doom Slayer an adamantine Amour from the deepest parts of the forges of Hell. And since Khorne CAN craft absolute destructive Weapons and impenetrable Armour...</s> (he did not make the armor for him but he approves of him using it.)
*Khorne is mixed on snipers. Partly because they sneak and hide like pussies and don't get into a proper fight, and partly because headshots ruin perfectly good skulls. However, sniping is the most skillfull form of shooting. It’s also Slaaneshi.
*Khorne's favorite author is Sun Tzu. Three guesses why if you know what he's written.
*Khorne is the patron god of Chimpanzees (no seriously, look them up; those bastards are the fucking marauding barbarians of the jungle, especially since their cousins the Bonobos seem like milktoast Slaanesh followers).
*Thanks to his relationship with Valkia the Bloody, Khorne may or may not be married to the devoted blood and gore addicted maiden of war.
*Despite his association with canines, Khorne also has a pet rabbit, which he [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmu5sRIizdw loaned out to appear in a certain comedy film].
*Khorne is also the god of tsunderes, no, seriously, as stated in a previous section, which is even further added by many tsunderes being red themed, this makes Khorne RAAAAEEEG! even more as his followers are supposed to be manly armored guys and not teen girls in school uniform, but hey, that's the internet for you!

==Gallery==
{{promotions}}
<gallery>
Klaher-baklaher-khorn.jpg
Image:Khornate.JPG|Khorne's followers off the battlefield. REVERSE ARMWRESTLE!!!
Image:khornewaffel.JPG|Waffles for the Blood God!
Image:Khornetrainer.JPG|Khorne's trainers prefer violent Pokémon.
Image:Khorne_tattoo.jpg|Mark of Khorne.
Image:Free like a riding demon by Ragathol.jpg|Khornette.
Image:Backwardsthrone.jpg|Just as Planned. Always. As. Planned.
File:Khornette.jpg|Khorne wants to know why the drawfags never give them noses.
File:Tea Time.jpg|In the grim darkness of the far future, there is still time for tea...
File:Khorne-Art.jpg|Warriors of Chaos: making everything in 40K look like bitches since 2002.
Image:You're_madder_than_Khorne.png|There '''is''' such a thing as being too mad for Khorne!
Image:Khorneholiover2.png |The [[Cornholio the Cultist|Great Khorneholio]]. He needs blood and skulls for his bunghole.
Image:Khorne-and-Slaanesh.jpg|Nine months later Khaine was born...
Image:Anon_pleases_Khorne.png|Who knew Berzerkers came in ''Shrimp'' size?
Image:Khorne Flakes.jpg|The tastiest of all! Add blood for more flavor.
Image:Khorne_flakes.jpg|Literal <s>corn</s> Khorne Flake Cake! Some absolute madlad/madlass actually did it!
Image:Khorny Meme.jpg|Whoever made this has too much time on their hands. And access to imgflip.
</gallery>

==See also==

*[[Brass]]
*[[Berserker]] - Chaos Space Marines with Axes and a bad attitude.
*[[Angron]] - Daemon prince of Khorne and the Primarch of World Eaters.
*[[World Eaters]]
*[[Khârn|Khârn the Betrayer]] - A pretty fun guy to be around.
*[[Valkia the Bloody]] - Scarousal in it's purest form.
*[[Warhammer_40,000/Tactics/Khorne_Daemonkin(7E)|Tactics/Khorne Daemonkin]] - That's right, meatsacks! The servants of Khorne have their own codex!
*[[Age of Sigmar/Tactics/Chaos/Blades of Khorne|Tactics/Blades of Khorne]] - Khorne's servants in AoS.
*[[Rage]]
*[[Sorcerers of Khorne]] - Double heresy!
*[[Doombreed]] - One angry son of a bitch.
*[[Doom|the one guy Khorne respects]]
* This pretty much sums up his forces: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-gSJW3sHXE&feature=channel_video_title
*[[Katanas_are_Underpowered_in_d20#Khorne_is_underpowered_in_40k|Khorne is underpowered in 40k]]
* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vljHBXA3UKE - death metal song devoted to Khorne.
* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ml3sjEiViXc - better death metal song.
* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8mEOiI4pjs - thrash metal song summing up Khorne pretty well.
* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edNUp4GkukI - can't forget the blackened thrash.
* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUB9QGKCNmI - a bunch of anime Khorne worshippers. Better than it sounds.
* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8mEOiI4pjs - another metal song devoted to Khorne. GW actually commissioned this one. Yes, they really were that awesome back in the day.

{{Template:ChaosGods}}
[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]][[Category:Age of Sigmar]][[Category:Blades of Khorne]]

Angry Marines

2021-03-04T23:47:58Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D: /* Gallery */

{{awesome}}

<center>'''ANGRY MARINES!!! ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!'''
'''FUCKING SCREAM IT YOU XENOSFUCKING, ULTRASHIT-LOVING FUCKTARD!!!'''</center>
<center>[[File:Angry marine battle against chaos demons.jpeg|800px]]</center>
{{Infobox Spess Mahreen Chapter
|Name = Angry Marines
|Heraldry = [[Image:Angry Marines SP.png|center|250px]]
|Battle Cry = ALWAYS ANGRY!!!!! ALL THE TIME!!!!!
|Number = ANGER CAN NEVER BE QUANTIFIED!!! But somewhere between Space Wolves and Pre Heresy legion.
|Founding = None/Unknown
|Successors of = [[Desert Fangs]]
|Successor Chapters = None
|Chapter Master = [[Temperus Maximus]]
|Primarch = [[Rachnus Rageous]]
|Homeworld = [[Ultramar|Angrymar / McRage]]/spaceborne
|Specialty = Close combat and assault with an overwhelming excess of brutality and profanity.
|Strength = 10.001 More than 1000 marines
|Allegiance = [[Imperium]] ('''AND DON'T YOU FUCKING FORGET IT, SHITFAG''')
|Colours = Bright yellow with a blood-red trim.
}}
[[Image:Angry Marine.jpg|thumb|right|GODMOTHERFUCKINGEMPERORPRAISEDBEHISNAMEDAMMIT!!]]

{{Topquote|In any society, fanatics who hate don't hate only me - they hate you, too. They hate everybody.|Elie Wiesel}}

{{Topquote|When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear.|Mark Twain}}

{{Topquote|JUST HIT THE FUCKERS!!!|Chapter Master Temperus Maximus when asked what’s written in the Codex Angry Marines}}

The '''Angry Marines''' are, in essence, what would likely happen if /tg/ [[Mary Sue|could magically turn themselves into Spess Mehreens]] and express their opinions towards [[Matt Ward|certain]] [[Robin Cruddance|aspects]] [[CS Goto|of]] the canon of 40K (and people who quote this exact line at the beginning of lore videos on the Angry Marines). They were in fact created by some guy using the Dawn of War army painter in ye olden days of yore <s>(suspected to be "Angry Joe")</s>. They are not the Alpha Legion; they symbolize the fa/tg/uy's love for 40K, as well as rage... Which /tg/ has in copious, albeit impotent, amounts.

The Angry Marines are a popular /tg/ homebrew Chapter of [[Space Marines]], and by far the most famous homebrew to gain fame outside the realm of /tg/. They are angry for the [[Emprah]] and skittles. All the time. Angry Marine tactics focus on getting into melee as quickly as possible, and proceeding to bust open several crates of [[Rage|FUCK YOU]] in the various directions of the Imperium's enemies. Due to this, Angry Marines tend to have low BS (by low, we mean Ork boy low), but have terrifically high WS/S/I, meaning anyone getting into CQC would be [[RIP_AND_TEAR|utterly annihilated]].

There is a [[Codex - Angry Marines: /tg/'s 9th Edition|9th edition Angry Marines codex]] you can use. The current iteration has come a long way since 7th edition, and hopefully won’t be a complete and utter mess.

The Angry Marines employ a variety of weapons notably different to the standard Space Marine arsenal. These include power heavy bolters (for melee and ranged use), dual power fists, power feet, power bats, power wrenches, 2 by 4 adamantium planks with a nail forced through them and even the Predator Angrinator, a modified version of the Predator Whirlwind artillery tank that fires the Angry Marines themselves directly into the enemy ranks. They also possess a [[Legio Ruina|Titan Legion]], which is fully comprised of Angry Titans. These are detailed in Codex: ANGRY MARINES. The Angry Marines also think that pistols are for faggots who can't hit anything worth a damn, and so these marines rarely go into battle with the traditional ''pistol+CCW'' combo, opting instead to engage opponents in mêlée combat. Even when not in combat, the Angry Marines are so goddamn angry that even the words of their out-loud speech seem to be made with the CAPS LOCK key left on and with at least three exclamation marks at the end of each sentence.

A lot of this is due to the fact that Space Marines feel emotions with a strength that normal people cannot even comprehend. The Angry Marines simply bypass the normal emotional range, allowing them to feel rage to an extent that leaves other Space Marines entirely speechless. You think you've ever been angry? The most rage you've ever felt is like a minor annoyance compared to what an Angry Marine feels all the time.

At present, the prevailing belief is that, like the faggoty-ass [[Pretty Marines]], the Angry Marines are a First Founding Chapter and used to be the Second Legion. However, due to [[Roboute Guilliman|Rowboat Girlyman]] accidentally hitting the backspace key when he meant to copy and paste something while typing up the Codex Astartes, the Second Legion was struck from official records, as the Eleventh Legion was. Thus most of the Imperium, and indeed the Galaxy at large, doesn't know about them, even though they are not classified as secret in any way, shape, or form.

Should an Inquisitor ever find a planet to be rife with [[Heresy|HERESY]], the people of that world (as well as many of the adjacent ones) better hope that the nearest Chapter Fleet isn't one from the Angry Marines. Very often, the resultant fallout of their measures to purge Heresy results not only in the absolute destruction of the world where said Heresy was first detected, but all things within 10 sub-sector radius as well. Such fruits may be borne by the Angry Marines by, for example, ramming battle barge after battle barge upon the very surface of the world itself. The Angry Marines are however not fans of Exterminatus, seeing it as a wasted opportunity to punch heretics in the face, but it does result in some [[Ashes of Yggdrasil|unfortunate engagements]] where they would have been far better off nuking the site from orbit.

The most astonishing thing about the Angry Marines is that they need no testosterone to be in as foul a mood as they are. Despite the fact that - like all other Space Marines - their ability to produce sex hormones is completely removed as part of their induction, they are still very much able to act as if their blood was all replaced with testosterone. [[Just as planned]].

= The Angry Marines =

Varied as the many accounts of the Angry Marines are, some tend to shed more light on their nature than others and are thus recollected here. Among such tales you will find stories of titanic battles, the origin of the Chapter´s relics, biographies of key personnel, and (of course) lots of swearing. If you, after reading this, would like to join the Angry Marines, first get some help, then call 420-6969-FUCKOFF

== The Guardsman's "Saviors" ==

Guardsman "Church" of the 8th Cadian regiment was stranded with his battalion on an unknown planet surrounded by hordes of Chaos traitors. Church was almost certain he was going to die today. Nevertheless, he stood strong, unshaken by the hordes of the damned. Inspired by the presence of his Commissar, his focus held strong Aim, Fire. Aim, Fire. Aim, Fire. Church's battalion, or what was left of it, had been shooting for hours, burning through the last of their ammo cache in one final defiant stand, they would hold their ground until the last man but he knew their ammunition supplies wouldn't last much longer; in fact, he had estimated that they'd run out half an earth hour ago. The final few dribbles of the cultists charge withered against their las fire, and the battle field feel silent. Another wave would follow soon, spurred on by their chaotic masters, Church doubted they could repel it, he murmured a litany under his breath.

The powerful voice of Commissar Harper Cut through the acrid air. "Guardsmen... Steady your will, though our weapons may fault, our armour may break, and our bones may be split, our hearts will still burn, BURN BRIGHT WITH THE EMPOR..." The sharp crack of a sonic boom followed by a huge concussive impact echoed across the battlefield, Commissar Harper had disappeared, in his place lay a huge yellow gore splattered Space Marine drop pod. seconds passed, several more drop pods hit the surrounding landscape, Finally the doors blew open, sending a second round of jarring reverberations through Church's ears.

All hell broke loose, as towering forms shot from the steel shell at lightning speed; most were howling seemingly random expletives, others were just simply screaming. For a second, Church thought they had been deep-struck by Khornate berzerkers; he savored what he thought would be his final breath and closed his eyes, ready to die... Church would not die this day, he would, however, break his right arm in several places and disintegrate most of his ribs and a good portion of his hips, for he was about to receive a very angry shove from a very angry marine. "OUT OF THE WAY RETARD", one of the marines shoved guardsman Church aside and jumped over the rampart. Church hit the ground with almost as much force as the drop pods, Church was no longer scared, or inspired, he felt nothing but confused. "what in the emperors name was-?" he murmured, swiftly proceeding to pass out.

== The Primarch of Rage ==

"''Lo, in the histories of the many Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, every Primarch listed that has ever come across my sage and learned eyes, has found root and home upon a planet, which hath shaped and set in stone the character of that warrior of The Emperor that he would become.''

''Therefore, one must give pause to the Primarch of our brothers, the Angry Marines, that great warrior of rage, for he hath never fell upon a planet. Nay! Legend has it he was borne upon the ethers and drifts of space, alone in his capsule save for a discarded copy of'' Battletoads ''that The Emperor had thrown out, a legendary artifact that hath fueled research into vast weapons of war that it might be unmade and erased from history.''

''When the capsule had finally been rammed into a drifting hulk of an old Imperial battleship, it is said that the Primarch was so enraged and frustrated with the vile game that he headbutted out the Adam's apple of the first survivor that he encountered, and thereafter killed every inhabitant with the remnants of the dying initial combatant.''"

''--- Historian Nwabudike'' 
''Histories of the Ill-favored Chapters''

== The Friendly Fire "Incident" of Klaxus XII ==
*From the historical records of Inquisitor Jangel, non-aligned investigator of Adeptus Astartes "Incidents". 
*Section #511: The "Friendly" Fire Incident of Klaxus XII 

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The records of this dire moment in Imperial history were (until I came upon them) known only to the two Space Marine Chapters that took part in the skirmish. However, only by putting the two records together is the truth found.

The [[Pretty Marines]] tell of a conflict fraught with glory against the odds, and of dire betrayal:

"''Prior to the sortie against our enemy, our glorious Chapter Master graced us with a speech. With eloquence, he spoke before the resplendent lines of the Brother-Marines. Sparkling under the twin suns, he recounted for us the beautiful victory, and of the fates of our enemies. As one we cheered, as we awaited his inevitable dance number.
 ''But lo, from the skies fell a drop pod, smashing into our forward lines and engulfing the area with thick dust. It took us only a moment to clear the air with our blow-dryers, but it was a moment too late: the Chapter Master was verily embedded lying-down onto the desert's surface face-first!''"

The Angry Marines tell the other side of the story, though in far less words due to a lacking in vocabulary beyond many four letter utterances. Hastily inserted into the annals of their Chapter, glory is simply a picture with the words "OWNED" across it, and the image of the Pretty Marines' Chapter Master unconscious on the ground, a crude mustache drawn on his face with paint, and what appears to be a set of testicles on his forehead.

So began the greatest internal feud within the Imperium.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise.'' 
+++++ 

== Astartes Most Unusual ==
*''Excerpted from Hidden Imperial Histories by Adept Voliusnius Brouyt'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Of the many Space Marine Chapters that protect the good citizens of the Imperium, none are as well respected, nor admired, as the warriors of the Ultramarines. Such is the greatness of their deeds. Their stories are told on innumerable worlds, their repu'that hold Guilliman's geneseed.

This does, however, occasionally lead to friction amongst some of the more bellicose chapters of Astartes that still stubbornly refuse to yield to the wisdom of the blessed Codex Astartes. Such antagonism is best illustrated with an anecdote from an instance when the Ultramarines encountered an obscure and ill-recorded chapter whom records merely identify as the "Fowl Marines".

The Angry Marines had apparently chased a Tyranid splinter fleet into Ultramarine space to which they brought absolute devastation. Impressed by their sheer ferocity the blessed Calgar offered an invitation to their Chapter Master, a man identified in the records only as Temperus Maximus. However, the invitation to meet their spiritual liege was responded to with the head of the slain hive tyrant -- on which was crudely scrawled an insulting cartoon of the Ultramarines defense of Macragge as well as depictions of male genitalia -- and the message, "STILL NOT AS GOOD AS THE HEAD YOUR MOM GAVE ME, YOU POMPOUS FUCKING DOUCHEBAG FUCKTARDS!!!!!!"

Infuriated by such a blatant and insulting snub, Calgar personally took it upon himself to demand an apology from the arrogant Temperus Maximus. He subsequently traveled to the offender's battlebarge throne room in person. Unfortunately, he little expected the animalistic temperament that would greet his justified demand for obeisance, from the maniacal Temperus Maximus. The exchange between the two soon escalated into an argument, before coming to blows.

The clash between the two occurred behind closed doors, with no clue exactly what words were exchanged. Yet when the doors opened again it was Calgar that was battered and bruised, with the sacred Gauntlets of Ultramar torn from his shoulders. Only the wise counsel of the Inquisition prevented him from declaring immediate war against his unruly brethren, a war that would no doubt have cost the Imperium greatly before the <s>Ultramarines'</s> Angry Marines' inevitable victory. The story stands as a clear example of how the refusal to follow the Codex only promotes discord and strife between erstwhile brothers.

As to what occurred in the Angry Marine chambers, few can know, the only clue perhaps the jeering cry raised by the Angry Marines whenever they cross paths with the Ultramarines during campaigns. A nonsensical mantra of "STOP HITTING YOURSELF STOP HITTING YOURSELF", repeated ad infinitum. What such a bizarre and crude chant could mean, a scholar can only guess at. Ultimately, it is telling of the less than exemplary mental nature of non-codex Astartes. 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Do not ask, ''"Why kill the alien?"'' rather, ask, ''"Why not?" 
+++++ 

== Assist on Vesuvius ==

*From the personal diaries of Brother R.C. Mongler, 4th Chanian Combat Group. 

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

My Chapter had landed on a barren little ball of rock called Vesuvius. The Inquisition had ordered us to the planet on suspicion of Chaos corruption. Surely enough, we ran into a group of Chaos Marines within a day of landing. The fools, turning their backs on the God-Emperor for whatever sick rewards they received from the deceiving Warp fiends. The battle started the second morning. Their attack was especially fierce, and my brothers and I had great trouble keeping them at bay. It seemed that for every one of them we killed, three more showed up. Our own losses were of no small concern. In a rare moment of calm, Brother-Captain Morgan confided in me that if we were not killed by these berserkers, we would almost certainly be killed by the Inquisition for failure. As our numbers dwindled, I grew concerned: surely we would all be killed, and The Emperor's work would not be carried out. We prepared for a final assault, one which had been coming for near a week of the most intense fighting I had ever seen. We surrounded a small hill, atop which stood our last Dreadnought, Brother Klarr. We saw their force coming from below. We knew this was our end. But suddenly, a shadow passed over us. Some great demon come to finish us off? No. It was a drop pod. Out of it stepped a small company of our brethren. They wore bright yellow armor, a bizarre crest upon their shoulders, unlike any Chapter I had yet heard of. A circle, with two lines crossing it and two dots in the middle - almost as if to suggest an angry face. They formed a line between us and the now charging Chaos Marines.

The Chaos Marines' bright red armor shone in the late afternoon sun, the spikes upon their shoulders menacing. The new arrivals stood fast. As the distance between the two forces began to close, there arose from these yellow warriors the loudest scream I had ever heard. It shook the ground. Even through my helmet, it made my ears ring and my skull ache. And it simply kept getting louder as their Captain's fist slowly rose into the air. As it rose to a nearly supersonic volume, I finally made out the words contained in the scream:

"''ALWAYS ANGRY!!!''"

In a chorus louder even than the Captain's scream, the soldiers returned:

"''ALL THE FUCKING TIME!!!''"

Then it began.

...

Without a word, the yellow Space Marines returned to their drop pod and were soon whisked away from the battlefield. There had been no more than a dozen of them, not a single word exchanged between our two Chapters. To this day, I have never seen any Marines fight with such rage and fury. The mass of enemy berserkers was reduced to mere chunks; legs, arms, heads, and craters full of blood. Bits of red armor lay strew about the field. We had not even had the chance to advance by the time the screaming - both theirs and the enemy's - was over. I turned to my Captain and asked, "''Who were they?''"

"''I had thought it was rumor, but no. Emperor bless us all, those were the Angry Marines.''"

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''The Emperor protects.'' 

==hell hath no furial==

Brother furiel of the angry marines had been a fairly ordinary brother of the chapters third company he did his duty, he ripped and tore his way through the enemies of the emperor. He had risen to the place of third company by literally beating a gene stealer broodlord to death with his own arms.(all of them)
On a particularly foul morning on the planet decisarus prime where the planetary governor sold his soul and the entire planetary population to slaanesh. He was particularly incensed.
Their was daemons marauding through the streets, raping killing, pillaging doing unspeakable things with pool noodles and a local girls schola progenium.
Local pdf had turned their guns on the very people they were supposed to be defending.
An entire hive city was burning and slaanesh marines were emerging from warp portals playing bad dubstep so loud it could be heard from space…the last thing furiel needed in the morning was some fucking power armored gimp playing shitty rock covers at 9 in the morning like an asshole!
But brother furiel could do nothing about this situation from his position on the chapters battle barge. dark mechanicum anti air emplacments were in place preventing thunderhawk deployment from orbit.
And all the drop pods were currently receiving system updates due to mechanicus fuck nuggets and their mandatory machine spirit updates, as to the teleportarium. After last weeks incident involving
A vespid and some chapter serfs furiel didn’t want to risk it.
Slaaneshi damons were running amock those dicks the inquisition were inbound and worst of all the marines malevolent intended to kill steal this entire situation and claim the glory for themselves..soon as they translated in system in their piss yellow battle barges
NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH THEY DON’T! brother furiel said
In a quiet moment of calm and introspective(compared to his brothers) he had a moment of inspiration. His brother and mood-kin brother officus of the pissed clan, seeing him said
HEY FAGGOT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?
Patiently he turned to his otherwise sanguine (by angry marine standards) brother and said
WHAT DOES IT FUCKIN LOOK LIKE IM DOING YOU POWER ARMORED NOB JOCKEY!?
Furiel said while loading his bolter, noticing the machine spirit was particularly moody today, he gave it a slap just to remind it who was boss, none of that faggoty oils and litanys for his bolter “earl grey”
Furiel didn’t know who this earl gray was but he must have been a bad ass to have a bolter named after him. His bolter was, like him in a pissed off mood and, like him liked to beat peoples faces in.
Officus, incredulous by his brothers perplexing actions said
YOU LOOK LIKE YER CLIMBIN’ INTO A MACRO SHELL YA POWER ARMORED BELL END!
Pertinently and calmly furiel put down his bolter and said with clarity and grace.
THAT’S COZ I FUCKIN AM YOU ARSE BISCUIT, now push the button AND LAUNCH THE FOOKIN’ TORPEDO AT THE PLANET! YOU FOOKIN NOB-GOBLIN!
The gears starting to turn in officiuses head….HEY dick muncher! He called out to their brother in the tech marine armor.
WHUT!? The red armored brother said.
WANKFACE HERE WANTS TO LAUNCH HIMSELF AT THE ENEMEY BY MACRO CANNON! Will that work?
Calculating the trajectory in his inhuman mind…factoring in power armor against re-entry, wind resistance, impact and sheer impossibility.
He said…HEY’ DICKBURGER in the ships helm turn the ship 32 degrees!
What followed should not have worked, it should have killed every battle brother who attempted it.
But the angry marines were angry like never before and a mere thing like “gravity” and “the laws of physics” would not stop the emperors justice from landing on these peckerheads heads!
Over the main hive city lord humungoid, previously lord peckerhead, now lord humungoid peckerhead observed what he assumed to be rain of some sort…
The hive had been subdued…the men and women fed to the sick and elderly the slaaneshi party busses were in full patrol their was no way anything was getting through not with captian luxor sword captian of emperors children and leader of the warband “party boys” on the scene.
Only the rain was getting angrier…and on fire….With a loud sonic boom several small objects were coming this way…
HEY ARSEBADGER! IM COMING TO GET YOU! One of the meteoroites seemed to be saying
It seems the angry marines had literally launched themselves from orbit at the attacking city.
Its said that with his slaaneshi enhanced eyesight he could see the fury on brother furiels face from space and the middle fingers he was giving while burning up on re-entry!
Firing everything they had into the air was pointless, as a half dozen marines were now imminently arriving…without drop pods….right on top of them….. was proving less than effective.
Too small for big guns too far away for smaller guns. The peeved asteroids were homing in now and a faint “aaaaaaaa” could be heard turning the heads of all but the most headonistic traitors….
Fire more bullets at them!
But sir
I SAID FIRE MORE BULLETS AT THEM!
Tracer fire lit up the air and more bullets were aimed at them
The “aaaaah” was getting louder and louder and more people were noticing this now.
The low powered hum could be heard what sounded now like a swarm of angry bees getting closer and closer…
Oh shit…
Brother furian with his astartes vision could see the fucker now 2 miles out…
THERE YOU ARE YOU LITTLE FUCK BUCKET! IM COMING FOR YOU!
Adjusting his aim slightly brother furian homed in on the govenors palace, now, everything was aimed at him and the screaming was getting louder
Now macro lasers were firing and the traitor warlord titan Lucius rentboy was firing its macro cannons at these yellow and red little insects but to no avail, the last thing their deranged precepts saw was a red and yellow marine bursting through his void shields his mailed fists caving in his skull and his brothers flying right through as brother furiel punched through the back of the titan and aimed straight for the traitorous governor.
HEY WANKSTAIN! Ive come to rip yer balls off and shove them down your neck!
They say, brother furians descent into the atmosphere was insane, they say his battle plan was madness they say launching marines from battle barges into enemy occupied hive cities 10 men against a fucking slaanesh army that still remembers how to strategise and has the dark mechanicum on hand is….less than ideal..
What all the affected parties did agree on was brother furians little episode was what most would consider “an extinction level event” and it was.
Earning a place in the chapters angry marine hall of awesome he single handily exterminated an entire fucking hive city by himself.
He obliterated men, women, tanks, titans, buildings, dark mechanicum assets. Essentially the equivalent of dropping a fucking nuke on this city.
When the smoke cleared and a taskforce went down they found brother furiel lodged deep into the planets crust still glowing, his hands clutched around the planetary govenors skull, which has a look on its face would could only be described by local angry marines as FOOKIN HILARIOUS!
A look of pure fear and dread some said, at the hammer about to land on him for his treason.

Upon discovery by chapter master temperus maximus said to the chief apothecary.
YOU! PISSFLAPS, GET THAT CUNTIN DICKWEASEL IN POWER ARMOR AND MAKE HIM ALIVE AGAIN!
Tearsley the apothecary responded. With elloquance and grace befitting of his title.
I CANT FOOKIN DO THAT BITCH TITS, HE’S DYING.
THE FUCK DID YOU CALL ME? chapter master temperus said incredulously.
CHAPTER MASTER- BITCH TITS, the apothocary said
Twitching with rage at being denied the chapters hero and about to give the apotocary a smack, he turned to his brother and said.
“THEN GET A FOOKIN MOP YOU NUMPTY, SCOOP HIM UP, PUT WHATS LEFT OF HIM IN A LUNCH BOX AND PUT HIM IN THE ARMORED COFFIN WERE MAKING A DRED!

And that is how brother furian, became the chapters first belligerent engine post cicatrix maladictum.

+++++ 

== The Salvation of Calamitis Prime ==

*Loading excerpt from ''Tales of Valor: Reports from the Ork Invasion of Calamitis Prime''. 

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The PDF sold their lives dearly to stop the greenskin advance upon our primary Hive, but on the horde came. There would be no escape-- but for the Planetary Governor, whose escape shuttle was prepped to leave before the attack had even begun.

As our leader left us to die, we prayed to The Emperor for deliverance while we continued risking our lives to protect his works. Glory be to his swift answer.

A yellow Thunderhawk, identified as ''Necrogoth Fuckshit'', descended like a falling star, the much larger transport vehicle crushing the smaller one as it demolished the landing pad, and through the fire and smoke the mighty figure of a Space Marine strode forth. I will never forget the seething expression on his face as he looked upon us, then upon the Hive, and then upon the xenos.

The Marine did not pause, he drew his chainsword and charged down the stairs with a battlecry upon his lips, screaming "''FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-''" or something of the sort, a cry with no end. Even as he disappeared into the Hive we heard him clearly, even as we saw the small yellow figure leap from the Hive into the throng of green below we heard him. Drop pods followed as more Marines smashed into the horde, more yellow armored Marines echoing the endless cry.

The xenos were crushed utterly, and still screaming in rage, the Space Marines ran up the Hive once more, to where the Governor still stood staring at the crushed wreckage of his escape shuttle in disbelief. The Marines poured into their Thunderhawk, but the Marine from before ran right up to the cowardly official, and his finger pressing painfully against the man's forehead, ended his warcry at last,:

"''-UUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOU!''"

Rather unceremoniously, the Governor was then pitched off the top of the Hive, with his underwear pulled up over his head. 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''To question is to doubt.'' 
+++++ 

== They called me a Cunt I'll Fuck Their Shit Up ==

''Extracted from the testimony of Inquisitor Seros''

''Extract #420/69, as follows...''

During the 38th Millennium, a young scribe was tasked by the Adminstratum to launch a complete inventorial investigation into an Adeptus Astartes chapter listed as the ”Angry Marines”. For some reason the Chapter´s quartermasters had not supplied the Administratum on Holy Terra with copies of the Chapter´s procurements and requisitions. As the Mechanicum wasn't obliged to supply reports about deliveries to individual units, the Administratum had no idea of the current state of the chapters inventory, upkeep or even numbers of Astartes. The promising young scribe chosen for this task was named Arturius; he had a flawless record and knew instinctively how to deal with bureaucracy.

As the chapter had not even supplied the Administratum with a home world, the scribe was sent to the commander of the “Somethingth” company, a marine named Shitkicker. After months of travelling aboard a supply vessel, Arturius could finally get on with his mission. The “Somethingth” company was currently deployed on the world Akdov Prime, and was in the final stages of liberating the planet from rebels and heretics. As the small craft boarded the battle barge “IDONTCAREYOUNAMETHEDAMNTHING”, Arturius braced himself for a meeting with a Chapter about which the elder scribes only talked in hushed whispers.

But to his surprise, when the airlock doors opened there was no one there to greet him. He wondered if they might have misunderstood the ID signal he sent when he asked for permission to board the immense ship? Slowly he made his way through the corridors of the battle barge, walking intently towards sounds that sounded suspiciously like swearing and punching. The noises increased in strength and clarity as he stopped just in front of a large bulkhead with massive dents in the thick metal. He took a deep breath and pressed the button to open the bulkhead doors and before he knew it, he stood eye to eye with the quartermaster of the ship. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STARING AT YOU BATHROBE-WEARING SCROTUMGOBBLER?!” Arturius was taken aback by the sheer volume at which the yellow clad Astartes operated. “Oh, ehm well you see Sir, I've been sent by the Adminis...” and before he could even finish his sentence the quartermaster had removed his helmet and planted it a mere inch from the young scribes head. “YOU COME FROM WHERE?! DON'T FUCKING TELL ME THE DICKSNIFFERS FROM THE FUCKING 'LIBARY' SENT YOU?!” he shouted at a deafening level, whilst spraying Arturius with spittle.

“I'm afraid that I am, oh thou protector of humanity, they've sent me because...”; again he was interrupted. “I COULDN'T GIVE A LUBE-SMELLING JIZZPOT AS TO WHY THOSE TAINTFONDLING NERDS WOULD SEND YOU HERE, I'M NOT SORTING ALL OF THESE BOLTERS OUT JUST SO THEY HAVE SOMETHING TO JERK OFF TO”. Arturius had a feeling he would get nowhere with the quartermaster, who was now so annoyed that a vein throbbed alarmingly on the side of his bald head. With great haste he backed out of the disorganized arsenal and ventured further into the ship, towards the bridge.

Unlike most of the Imperium's bigger vessels, this battle barge didn't have any markings to indicate as to which direction one would proceed to a certain location. The only thing close to it were lewd drawings and four letter cursewords scribbled on the walls. After almost an hour of guessing as to where the bridge might be, having only depictions of genitalia with jet-engines attached to them to go by, he had finally arrived. Again he heard muffled shouting behind the immense bulkhead, and thought that caution was needed for this possibly violent encounter. Never in his wildest nightmares could he have expected Adeptus Astartes to behave in this manner. With a trembling finger, he pressed the button to open the bulkhead and in an instant the shouting became clear. “I DON'T GIVE TWO LUMPS OF SHIT ABOUT WHAT THE GOVERNOR ASSHAT THINKS, WE'RE THROWING IN ALL OF THE ANGRY GANGS!!!”. “With all due respect my lord, we don't have enough pods for all t..”, “FUCK YOU BUTTPIRATE, THEN WE'LL FUCKING LAND THIS PIECE OF DICKSPIT ON THAT SHITHOLE EXCUSE OF A PLANET!”.

Captain Shitkicker had not even registered the arrival of the nervous scribe, and with a very unsteady voice he spoke, “Excuse me your excellency, may I have a word?”. The Captain sharply turned his head towards Arturius, and with only three strides he stood face to face to the trembling Administratum emissary. “AND WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!” the Captain shouted, not even breaking eye contact for a millisecond. Almost soiling himself, Arturius spoke up; “Revered Captain of the glorious Adeptus Astartes, this humble scribe have ventured forth from the Administratum in order to f...” “YOU'RE FROM THE FUCKING 'LIBARY'?!” the captain roared, and now his eyes flashed with a rage even greater than when Arturius had arrived at the bridge. “THAT FUCKING DOES IT, I'M COMPLETELY BLOODY SICK OF THIS!”. Seemingly from nowhere the furious Captain Shitkicker produced a melta-grenade, pulled the pin out, but kept his hand firmly on the safety latch. Again he took three angry strides towards the Mechanicum Officer that he had verbally abused before, stuck the grenade in his hand and screamed mere millimeters from the face of this Servant of the Omnissiah: “IF YOU EVEN MOVE AN INCH OR SPEW ANYMORE BULLSHIT FROM THAT CUM-ENCRUSTED SPHINCTER YOU CALL A MOUTH, THEN I WILL KICK THIS GRENADE FROM YOUR SHITSMEARED HANDS AND DESTROY THAT FUCKING CONSOLE CONTROLLING THE SHIP!!!”. Even under all the cybernetic modifications you could see the already pale Enginseer going full white, knowing full well that the Captain meant every word.

“HEY PILOTING ASSWIPES, LAND THIS FUCKING OUTHOUSE ON THAT FUCKING SHITSTAIN!” Captain Shitkicker roared whilst pointing to Akdov Prime. Even from orbit you could see the massive fires in the hive-cities, where the Imperial Loyalists battled against the rebel scum. The servitors looked up and responded with a “Yes my lord” in that neutral voice of theirs. The mighty battle barge´s engines fired up and started to move the immense ship towards the planets surface, the void shields being calibrated on the move to account for the pressure of the atmosphere. The Captain had now retired to a large room adjacent to the bridge, and by the sounds and constant swearing, Arturius knew the mighty Space Marine was looking for something. “AH THERE IT FUCKING IS, THIS IS GOING TO BE MEGA-FUCKING-KICKASS-AWESOMESAUCE” the Captain gleefully exclaimed as he had found an ancient power-weapon of some description.

Before Arturius could investigate the issue further, the ship was well on its way to the surface with the creaking sound making it abundantly clear that the ship wasn't too happy about the sudden atmospheric pressures and gravity pulling at its massive frame. After some serious piloting from the Servitors, the ship was stable a couple of kilometers above the surface of the battle scarred planet. Without even a single curse, obscenity or threat, Captain Shitkicker ran at full speed down the corridor that young Arturius had arrived from. Having given up on handling the situation as per any protocol he knew of, he ran after the Astartes to the best of his abilities. After almost losing the large Astartes in the corridors of the battle barge, he finally caught up with him, standing in front of a Vox-console trying to plug into the ships loudspeakers. “ALRIGHT YOU DICKBADGERS, WE'RE OFF TO KICK ASS!” the Captain roared into the microphone he held in his right hand, violently gesturing with the other. “REPORT TO THE FUCKING DROPPODS ON THE FUCKING DOUBLE!”, after screaming the last order into the mic, Captain Shitkicker again made off towards the hangars of the mighty ship. Arturius had abandoned all pretense of knowing what to do at this point, thinking that it might be best to report his failings to the Administratum and receive his punishment instead of spending another minute aboard this floating madhouse. He knew he had come from the hangars when he arrived, so again he followed the mad Astartes. After just a minute of intense running he had arrived in the hangars, seeing Captain Shitkicker violently screaming at a group of Sergeants near the drop pods. He tried to make his way to his own craft, but after walking just a few paces he was lifted up by a pair of extremely strong hands, and he heard a voice bellowing behind him; “FUCK YOU NERD, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME ON THE THUNDERHAWK, I NEED A SURFBOARD”. It was one of the Veterans of the chapter, adorned in the yellow and red livery with the strange crest upon their chests. Powerless to protest, Arturius was dragged towards on the Thunderhawks in the hangar, intensely praying for his life.

Going through the flight checks - which basically consisted of banging on the craft´s instruments and swearing loudly - the pilot started the engines of the mighty Thunderhawk. Arturius was mushed in between two massive Space Marines and was holding on for dear life as the craft suddenly jerked forwards and started speeding up out of the hangar. Within a moment´s notice the mighty Thunderhawk was in a screaming descent towards one the main hives of Akdov Prime, and Arturius feared for his life. The Astartes on the other hand were just laughing manically or/and loudly screaming obscenities at each other, which must have been a bizarre pre-battle ritual of the Chapter. As the craft closed in for a landing, the Astartes suddenly started chanting their battlecry, “ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME! ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME!” as they rushed out of the landing craft. Not even having time to react, the poor scribe was again picked up by the grumpy Veteran, “LOOK, NOW THE FUCKING FUN STARTS!” he roared into Arturius' ear as he carried him into battle like a sack of doorknobs. He had no idea why the mighty Astartes had picked him up in the first place, and were know properly starting to fear for his life, his purpose became clear after they entered a hastily set up base of operations in what used to be a beautiful plaza. “FIX MY FUCKING POWERBAT YOU SPHINCTER!” someone roared in his already ringing ears, and felt something being dropped in his lap. “I.. I don't know how to repair weaponry such as this!” the young man exclaimed, with the Astartes just staring at him. “USELESS FAGGOTROCIOUS CUNT!” he screamed as he threw the scribe right into a pillar.

He woke up days later in a hospital, dazed and confused. Next to his bed stood a man in inquisitorial livery. “I see you too have had a run-in with the... Angry Marines” the man said slowly. Without thinking he offered the man a seat next to his bed but the Inquisitor stated “Uh, no thanks. I would rather stand... My name is Seros, Inquisitor Seros. And I understand you have some information about the Angry Marines´ unwillingness to cooperate with Imperial officials. I am currently in dire need of such information” the man said. Arturius could swear that the Inquisitors´ buttcheeks had tightened when he mentioned the name 'Angry Marines'. “Now, let me write down you testimony, and together we might put an end to the madness that is the 'Angry Marines', these subhuman morons who dare call themselves Astartes.”....

+++++ 
The Inquisition never forgets'' 
+++++ 

== The Life of an Asshole ==

* From the records of Governor Tamel of Pathos Secundus.
* File #34476A: Captain Asshole
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

A boy was born in the year 895.M38, on Pathos Secundus. Little is recorded of his parentage. His father was a Guardsman, known only to be missing and presumed dead, and his mother died in childbirth. The pregnancy had no complications, and so an autopsy was conducted. Wounds throughout the mother's uterus and all along the birth canal indicated extreme trauma; video recording of the birth confirmed the medical examiner's suspicions: he had come out cuntpunching (sic). 

The child spent his youth in and out of various orphanages and foster homes. Several of his caretakers attempted to name him, but whenever anyone asked him his name, he responded only by punching them in the throat. He was regarded as mad and dangerous at the very least; many believed he harboured some mutation, or even the mark of Chaos. At the age of ten, however, he finally found a home. An Angry Marine Quartermaster had made planetfall to procure supplies, and the young boy happened to be in the area. The Marine shouted to him, "''HEY, ASSHOLE, BRING ME THAT FUCKING HAND TRUCK IN THE CORNER!''" 

The youth approached the hardened battle-brother and kicked him squarely in the groinplate, breaking two of his toes but making not a sound and shedding not a tear. The Angry Marines had found a new recruit. 

At the time Asshole was inducted, the Chapter Master of the Angry Marines had decreed that new recruits should become standard Codex scouts. The issue was put to a vote, and the chapter at large declared this decision to be "''COMPLETELY FUCKING FAGGOTROCIOUS,''" however the decree stood for a time on the basis that the Chapter Master did it "''JUST TO PISS YOU OFF, YOU WORTHLESS TWATS!''" 

This did not well accommodate young Asshole. The one thing they could never teach him to do was aim, and he spent far longer than normal languishing in the 10th Company. Finally, in 176.M39, during the Scouring of Erhlinger Prime, he proved himself. After emptying an entire magazine into an Ork horde with no effect, Asshole abandoned his cover, howled madly into the sky, and broke his sniper rifle neatly in half across his knee. He then charged the band, tearing limbs from any greenskin that stood in his way, until he was standing face-to-face with the Boss Mek. Asshole took the two halves of his ruined rifle and spitted the Ork from both ends of his digestive track-- right through his flash kustom 'ardpantz, no less. The remaining xenos turned tail and ran. For his heroism, Asshole was immediately inducted to the 5th Company and promoted to the rank of Sergeant. Nevertheless, the Chapter Master shortly thereafter judged that the newbies were 'pissed off enough', and reinstated the Angry Gangs. 

Asshole rose quickly through the ranks, finally becoming Brother-Captain of the Battle Barge ''Killfuck Soulshitter'' in 722.M39. During his career, he developed a special hatred of Eldar, and would often be heard to claim that "''THEY MAY AS WELL BE GODDAMN PRETTY MARINES FOR ALL THEIR FAIRYASSED PANTSHITTERY!!''" In 756.M39, the ''Killfuck Soulshitter'' was called to push back an incursion on the Coluphid Sector by Eldar. The campaign was a terrifying success, and in its last moments, Captain Asshole confronted the Farseer Turiel and her daughter Sorith, one of the Seer Council, personally. Breaking Sorith and casting her blithely aside in one swift blow, the Captain approached the Farseer, shaking with rage. Before she could react, he slammed her to the ground, removed his groinplate, and raped the Eldar psyker with a brutality she no doubt ever imagined in her 424 years. As he finished, he rose, readjusted his armor, and looked the horrified Sorith in her eyes, saying "''I FUCKED YOUR MOM!''" He turned and left, letting the two witches steal into the Webway. A Marine in Asshole's retinue, puzzled, asked "''WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THOSE DYKES GET AWAY, YOU RETARDED COCKSICKLE?''" In an astonishing display of restraint, Asshole replied simply "''THOSE SPACE WHORES AREN'T THE ONLY ONES WHO CAN PLAN AHEAD, YOU DICKWEED!''" 

In 989.M39, Captain Asshole received a pizza with mushrooms instead of pineapple, and suffered an aneurysm while pummeling those responsible. Thus, his Battle-Brothers cybernetically mounted him into one of the Chapter's [[Dreadnought|Dreadnoughts]]-- or, as they prefer to call them within the Angry Marines, a [[Belligerent Engine]]. 

Thirty years later, the Chapter met the same Eldar again on the field of battle. The carnage played out much the same as before. All that remained were Farseer Turiel, and Sorith -- and the Belligerent Engine in which Captain Asshole was fused. A terrible din was heard. Suddenly, Captain Asshole's turgid member had punched right through the armor plating of the Dreadnought, with the Angry Marine himself in tow, and lodged itself between the buttocks of the Farseer with the force of 10 supernovae. He turned to Sorith and spoke his last words to her before slaughtering them both. 

"''EVEN IN DEATH, I STILL FUCK YOUR MOM.''" 

Captain Asshole, victorious, then breathed his last on the field of battle.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Hatred is the purest expression of love for The Emperor.'' 
+++++ 

== From the Flames of Furfaggotry ==

*Imperial historical logs; as compiled by Commissar T.G. Wang, 137th Trondheim Regiment of the Imperial Guard 
*''A synopsis of the events preceding the destruction of all heretical forces on Tertius Gamma follows'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The planet of Tertius Gamma was besieged by mutants of Chaos, the insipidness of which had never been before seen in this sector of space. The furry abominations, committing the hideous blasphemy of wearing sacred power armor as if in service to the God-Emperor, had been leveling city after city for days. And now... they had advanced upon the capitol city, the last bastion of humanity.

However, little did anyone realize that the incursion had been noticed by one of the greatest Chapters of all Space Marines -- whose mighty Battle Barge was even now entering orbit around the planet -- the Angry Marines. 

"''GODDAMMIT, WHY AREN'T WE ON THE GROUND YET?''" screamed an armored visage. What remained of his face had been twisted recognizably by sheer rage.

"''Sir, we cannot enter the atmosphere that quickly. The friction woul bur-''" The voice of the Servitor was cut short as he was crushed beneath the sheer weight of the Marine's armor as he jumped into the pilot terminal. 
Thus, the Battle Barge, the ''Litany of Litany's Litany'', began its screaming descent towards the besieged planet. 

All the while, a cacophony of sickly sounds continued to permeate from the murky planet below.
 "''Yiff... yiff... yiff... yiff...''"
 It was maddening; sufficiently so that any lesser man would have taken his own life. But it had no effect on the stalwart Marines of rage save to infuriate them like never before. 

At the same time (and unknown to their brethren on the first Battle Barge, or vice versa), a second Battle Barge of the Chapter, the ''Maximum FUCK'', hovered at the ready directly over the capital city. Upon it, poised the payload of Adeptus Astartes Angry Marines, prepared to make planetfall.

Captain Temperus of the 3rd Company watched and waited, his eyes fixed firmly on the screens showing a wave of mutants overrunning the planetary defense force positions. He felt his blood boil as he looked upon the livery adorning their armor, their mockery of everything they stood for. Their faces were an abomination. The heretical glee, visible on their faces even from space, angered the Brother Captain even moar.

The comms-servant gave a silent nod, and although it seemed as though he hadn't seen it, Temperus was well aware. It was time-- but he hadn't the patience for any conventional strike this time.

"''CUNT SNIFFING FAGGOT MOTHERFUCKERS!''" He bellowed with rage. With the full force of his forehead, Captain Temperus struck the large red button on the console in front of him, destroying it in the process. Great shields on the side of the Battle Barge turned into place over the front of the craft, forming a giant battering ram shaped like a middle finger.

The ''Maximum FUCK'' began its nose-first descent into the atmosphere. 

The fighting around the capitol city grew more and more fierce. The furred mutants were sending their numbers to die beneath the walls of the city, each one attempting to use their bladed weapon to try and chip away at the hardened rockcrete. At first the defenders jeered at their foolhardiness. But as more corpses piled around the walls, the more precarious became the city's chances.

"''Keep up that heavy bolter fire!''" the Commissar screamed over the din of the gun emplacements. 
"''Bring up the flamers! Show these abominations the cleansing power of The Emperor!''" 
Just then a Servitor scuttled up to the Commissar's side.

"''Milord, crafts from off-world are making planetfall. It appears to be the Adeptus Astartes.''"

"''Ah, at last. Now we shall TRULY turn the tide against this filth!''" beamed the Commissar.

In revelry and decadence, the furries fought and continued to advance. The city would soon fall, there was none alive on Tertius Gamma who could stop them now. 

Suddenly, all heads turned skywards, eyes scanning above to find the source of a terrible noise. The two Angry Marines Battle Barges collided sides-first against one another as they plummeted towards a single target. The mutants realized that target was them.

The Commissar turned his eyes skywards as the enemy fell silent and a great shadow fell across the lands.

"''What the fuck...''" the Commissar uttered under his breath, in disbelief. 

"''FUCK YOU, I WAS HERE FIRST!!!''" screamed the commander aboard the ''Litany of Litany's Litany'', as he piloted his barge directly into the heart of the mutant hordes below.

"''NO FUCK YOU, I DEPLOYED THE FINGER!!!''" Captain Temperus cursed back. 

Traitors fled, mutants hid, deviants cried out for their dark gods to save them. As one, then two Battle Barges slammed into the enemy lines. 
With a terrifying roar, the planet itself was torn asunder! 
Tertius Gamma was no more.

All that remained was two Battle Barges, locked in fierce combat.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Suffer not the Furry to live.'' 
+++++ 

== Tempting Rage ==

*''Excerpted from personal correspondence addressed to PFC. Munchaussen, then stationed in the Argos sector'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The aspiring Champion of Khorne called out to the Angry Marines before him just as they prepared to charge his host of daemons and World Eaters. 

"''Can you not see the similarities between your battle prowess and ours? Khorne fills you with his wrath in battle, but you do not take time even to notice. Join us, and together we can destroy all within our path! Sink deeper into your anger with the full blessings of the Blood God!''" 

The assembled Angry Marines took pause, and considered the words of the World Eater Champion. Chaplain Brusiarch then stepped from the front ranks of the Angry Marines' line, turned, and backhanded the closest Angry Marine. The yellow-clad Battle-Brothers then turned their gaze to meet his. 

Brusiarch gestured towards the aspiring Champion of Chaos, pointing to the bolt pistol that the Champion wielded in his left hand. The Chaplain shouted to his brother Marines, "''YOU DON'T LISTEN TO FAGGOTS, YOU COCKSICLES, YOU FUCKING KILL THEM!!!''" 

The previously backhanded Space Marine then stood up, his faceplate shattered from the force of the blow, and shouted the battle cry of the Angry Marines, "''ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!''" 

The Angry Marines then realized their folly at listening -- even if only for a moment -- to an insufferable faggot. He dared consider himself as angry as they were but armed himself not with a second chainsword or power fist, but a pussified ''bolt pistol''?? 

The next few seconds witnessed the roar of Cocknocker jump packs, the whoosh of battle-brothers being launched at the daemonic host from the Predator Angrinator's, and Brother Chaplain Brusiarch's battle cry of "''FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-,''" as he charged the World Eaters' line. 

Chaos was fucked. 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Zeal is its own excuse.'' 
+++++ 

== Acclimating to the Angry Marines ==
*''A brief account of life with the ''Angry Marines'', and their Reclusiarch,'' Mofo
*''As lived by ''Brother-Sergeant Kollon'', Imperial Fists'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

I, Brother-Sergeant Kollon, of the Imperial Fists have been attached to the Angry Marine Chapter. In my first week training with our brothers, I had the privilege, of sorts, to encounter none other than their chapter's Reclusiarch, Mofo. After completing the morning firing rites alongside the Angry Marines, I made for the closest lavatory to relieve myself before battle practice began. The firing rites, as dictated by the Codex Astartes, involve squads honing their skills with ranged weaponry. While my fellow Astartes of the Imperial Fists attained perfect accuracy and precision with our bolters and sniper rifles, our less restrained Battle-Brothers spent most of the time missing their targets with the few bolters they had on hand. After expending his ammunition, each marine would charge down the firing lane to smash the pristine target with his bolter, his hands, and anything else within reach. We began to suspect that this non-codex treatment of ranged weaponry was the cause of the shortage of bolters in the Angry Marines' armory aboard the Litany of Litany's Litany.

I had deactivated and removed the appropriate sections of my power-armor, noticing the raised dais in the center of the lavatory chamber about which all the commodes faced. Many print copies of the legendary Codex Astartes lay upon this dais, and I found it odd that the Angry Marines would partake in the custom of reading while relieving oneself like so many of the Imperium's cultures do. I had just sat down upon one of the commodes along the bulkhead when Reclusiarch Mofo entered the chamber.

He wore his full set of armor, not even having removed his helm. He is larger than the average Space Marine and carried his signature Crozius, Fag-Basher. It is platinum, and shaped like a great fist holding an Imperial Aquila token with the middle finger extended.

The Reclusiarch tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment of my presence and sat himself down upon a commode near the one I was seated upon. I quickly expelled the contents of my bowel, and experienced another tortured minute while the Reclusiarch violently did the same with much loud swearing and oath making. It was then that I realized that the commodes in this lavatory did not have a bidet function like most toilets of the modern Imperium. I had just turned to ask the Reclusiarch how his Chapter went about cleansing themselves when I saw him reach out to one of the copies of the Codex Astartes. He opened it, and Emperor preserve us all, ripped a page from it, and began cleaning his backside! I cried out,

"This...THIS IS HERESY!!"

The Reclusiarch became a blur, a lightning strike of motion. Instantly his crozius was alight in his hand, its power field sending blue energy flicking out from its surface. "HERESY!!! WHERE!!?? WHERE'S THE HERESY, YOU FISTFUCK ARSE-STRUMMER!!??," he shouted at max vox amp. He stood there, his head rapidly scanning the entire room for any sign of heresy, with the soiled page of Guilliman's life's work still wedged in his backside. It was the most astonishing sight I have ever seen in my centuries of service, and before my gen-enhanced senses could even register it, he had planted Fag-Basher in the bulkhead just centimeters from my head. "DON'T FUCKIN' STARTLE ME LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING CUNTBREATHED, PISS-ENCRUSTED, ARSEWART!!!!!!" he roared right in my face. Mofo then turned back to his toilet and angrily finished cleaning himself with the torn codex page. He closed his armor and ripped Fag-Basher back out of the wall, causing me to duck. As he walked through the portal to the lavatory, he turned and shouted, "BATTLE PRACTICE STARTS IN THREE MINUTES FUCKFACE, SO BREAK IT OFF AND GET A FUCKING MOVE ON!!! IF YOU'RE LATE, I'M GONNA REPLACE ALL OF THIS TOILET PAPER," as he gestured to the copies of the Codex Astartes "WITH YOUR HANDS!!!"

He then stormed down the hallway, leaving me stunned on the toilet. I looked at the copies of the Codex Astartes, a holy work written by the Emperor's own loyal son and the basis for everything I have lived my long life for as a Space Marine. I had the choice of defacing the codex, or undergoing the foulest penance I had ever been threatened with. This was only the first week of a decades long deployment with this Chapter!! Had the Emperor abandoned me? 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Heresy must be met with hatred.'' 
+++++ 

== Ruination of the Black Legion Warband on Tormus Octavion ==
*''The Further Misadventures of Mofo, ''Reclusiarch'' of the ''Angry Marines'' 
*''Compiled from the Mission Logs of'' Commissar John Fuklaw'' of the ''Angry Marines'' Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, by the Imperial Archiving Services Staff
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Mofo, Reclusiarch of the Angry Marines, finished his oaths to the Emprah. Promises, made to his God, as to just how badly he would RIP THE FUCKING COLONS RIGHT OUT OF THOSE PENULTIMATE FAGGOTS!

Mofo recited his promise to himself as ''The Bird'', the [[Thunderhawk]] they were riding in, jerked and swerved. They were flying close to the ground to avoid detection. Mofo recalled how the enemy had made the very serious mistake of taunting Brother-Captain Raeg, several hours earlier. 

-----

"Come and get us, striplings!" Their leader had said, his fat metal ass humming and whirring even through the pict feed. "You cannot penetrate our void shields from your precious battle barge, and your ground forces will not stop our ritual in time. The warp portal is nearly complete, and soon this whole planet shall be consumed by Chaos!" Then the faggot went on and on about how great he is and how he has such a FUCKING HARDON FOR HIMSELF!!!!

"IMMA FUCKING RIP THAT COCKSUCKER IN PIECES, THEN EAT THOSE PIECES AND SHIT THEM OUT!!!!" Raeg had shouted. So loud was his exclamation, the techfags in the engine rooms had heard him. "FIRE UP THE ENGINES, WE'RE RAMMING THE FUCK OUT OF THAT SHIELD WITH THE WHOLE SHIP!!!"

"FUCK THAT SHIT, I'VE GOT A BETTER IDEA," Mofo politely interjected.

The Captain respectfully disagree. "FUCK YOU, THAT FAGGOT IS GONNA REGRET THE DAY HE FIRST BELIEVED IN THOSE SHITEATING CHAOS GODS ALMOST AS MUCH AS HE IS GONNA REGRET THE DAY HE FUCKING CALLED ME!!!"

It had been difficult to convince Raeg of his plan, but the chapter had already heavily damaged two battle barges in recent years during the Tertius Gamma campaign. The techno-cockgobblers on Mars said they were not gonna make any more for his chapter if they kept on wrecking them every time the enemy used a void shield. Mofo responded diplomatically, "WITH RESPECT CAPTAIN, FUCK YOU AND THE OBSCURA THAT BURST FROM THE CONDOMS YOU SWALLOWED!! IMMA GO DOWN THERE, WRECK THAT FAGGOT'S SHIT, THEN OPEN THE SHIELDS SO YOU CAN LAUNCH THE DROP-PODS AND QUIT YOUR BITCHING!!!"

Much back and forth arguing had occurred, but Mofo's plan was agreed upon. Soon the Reclusiarch was thundering down through the atmosphere with a techmarine and cockknocker squad in tow. "REMEMBER THE PLAN, ASSFAGGOT?" Mofo inquired.

"FUCK YEAH I REMEMBER, YOU GO HAVE FUN, AND WE DO ALL THE FUCKING WORK!!!" Techmarine Techfucker replied.

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I'M GONNA HAVE FUN!!!" said Mofo.

The thunderhawk closed in on the void shielded city. The Chaos Space Marines and logic engines detecting their low flying craft entirely too late. The pilot servitor aimed just above the wall surrounding the fortress as it had computed were its instructions from the screaming and shouting the Reclusiarch had done before takeoff. The top of the walls had a thin slot where the void shields did not extend, but this space was not big enough to permit passage of an aircraft the size of a thunderhawk. Facts like this did not deter Angry Marines. The thunderhawk smashed against the lowest extension of the void shield, the uppermost sections of the craft being sheared off from the collision. The flaming remains of the craft shot over the parade grounds, and into the crenelated walls of the fortress proper.

"GET TO FUCKING WORK!!! THERE IS MUCH ASS TO BE BEATEN FOR THE EMPRAH THIS DAY!!!!" roared Mofo as he and his fellow Angry Marines removed themselves from the wreck. The Techmarine and cockknocker squad moved off to disengage or sabotage the void shields, whichever came first. Mofo had a different target.

-----

Thragarkis, the twice living, great servant of the Chaos, Warlord Triumphant of his warband of the Black Legion, gloated to himself in his throne room. "Oh this will be a mighty victory against the weak Imperium" he chortled.

"Yes master," said Aruel, his mortal savant.

"I have heard a report of intruders in this fastness, go and watch over the ritual. Insure that no mistakes are made. I would be very angry should a mistake be made over worries about a single crashed thunderhawk."

"As you desire master, your great work shall be completed, the gods shall be honored!" Aruel hurried from the throne room to carry out his master's orders.

Thragarkis looked through the fortress layouts in his tactical display, and compared them to the reports he was hearing over the vox channels his fellow Black Legionaries used. There was much fighting going on in the lower levels, and out upon the walls. Perhaps the rumors were true about this...'Angry Chapter'. No matter, there were no reports of violence in the passages leading to his sanctum or the ritual chamber beyond. He couldn't afford to let the psykers worry, they needed all their concentration for this. He would not allow his greatest work to be undone now, not when it was so close to completion.

Suddenly, he heard a blast from the side of his chamber. He turned to see a black armored Space Marine approach him through a ragged hole in the wall, a chaplain, and yes, there was his Crozius alight and ready as well. Bizarre that the Crozius, normally a vaunted and holy relic to his loyalist 'brothers', be shaped to form so crude an insult rather than some divine symbol of his chapter. This was a different chapter indeed.

"YOU, MECHANICAL DICKSUCKER, IMMA FUCKING BREAK YOUR METAL ASS!!" the figure roared.

Yes, very different indeed.

"Unlikely, little Chaplain. Soon, daemons will pour out from this fortress, you cannot stop them without getting through me, and I am Thragarkis! The twice living, ender of worl-."

"OH SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!!!" The figure charged! Most approached his unholy sarcophagus with some trepidation, but not this one!

Mofo let loose a horrid string of obscenities as he charged toward the pretentious faggot. Thragarkis fired off several rounds from its twin linked autocannons, but Mofo was so angry he nimbly dodged them, hellbent on getting at the metal bitch and letting him know just how much the Emprah hated him. Mofo dodged inside the dreadnought's guard, and planted his Crozius, Fag-Basher, into the front armor of the fucking thing. Thragarkis balled up his powerfist, and smashed Mofo solidly. Mofo was thrown back by the blow, but no sooner had he touched the ground than he was charging again. As the dreadnought launched another punch, Mofo leapt over the powerfist and threw himself on the front of the sarcophagus so he looked eye-to-eye with the vision port.

"JUDGEMENT, MOTHERFUCKER, IT'S COMING!!!" Mofo swore. With all his gene-enhanced strength, Mofo punched the vision block of Thragarkis's sarcophagus. Punch after punch, blow after blow he rained upon the dreadnought's vision port. All the while the dreadnought fired off autocannon rounds at random, his powerfist desperately trying to grab the chaplain and remove him from his chassis. "YOU" *punch* "PIECE" *punch* "OF" *punch* "SHIT" *punch* "GET" *punch* "OUT" *punch* "HERE!"

At last, the vision block shattered, and Mofo's fist drove forward into the amniotic tomb of Thragarkis. Foul liquids gushed out around Mofo's arm as he fished around inside the tank. At last he found Thragarkis' mortal form squirming around at the bottom. He grasped the fucker by the neck, and pulled his head out of the hole he made in the sarcophagus. It was a disgusting thing, like a wet white turd with the gratuitous number of 8 pointed fag marks carved and tattooed here and there. Thragarkis looked through hazy eyes at his killer, and trembled. How could the dark gods forsake their loyal servant like this?

"I GOT A MESSAGE FROM THE EMPRAH!!!" said Mofo. He then reared back his free arm, as if to throw another punch. Like lightning his arm shot forward into an accusing finger pointed right in Thragarkis' face, "FUCK YOU!!!" Then, grasping the fucker's neck with both hands, Mofo headbutted him repeatedly, his hardened helm smashing into Thragarkis' skull, caving in his head. When the turd's face looked like a cereal bowl, Mofo stopped. The last neural stutters of the heretic's dying brain caused the dreadnought to stutter, and fall onto its back.

Mofo neatly flipped forward, grabbing Fag-Basher on the way, and landing upright next to the dead faggot. Just as he landed, the set of doors leading into the adjoining ritual chamber opened. "My Lord, the void shields are down! Drop pods rain upon us. Your legion brothers await your words...Ohhhh-."

"TELL THEM THEY'RE ABOUT TO GET THEIR SHIT PUNCHED IN!" Mofo roared, as he sprinted towards the stunned savant.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: '' My Armor is Contempt, my Shield is Disgust, my Sword is Hatred. In The Emprah's name, let none survive...'' 
+++++ 

== The Fires of Forosia ==
*''Excerpted from "The Rolls of Redemption through Ultimate Sacrifice", an Ordo Xenos inventory of Exterminatus actions carried out in the Segmentum Pacificus'' 
*''Provided by Aerkon Pollock, last surviving adjutant to Planetary Governor Gorm Leass, 655.M42'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

In the middle of year 654.M41, the Forosian system was invaded by a large fleet of Draethri Xenos. The ships overwhelmed the orbital defenses in rapid fashion, and dropships swarmed over the hive cities and manufactorums in a fast and brutal raid. Fortunately for Forosia, astropathic messages pleading for aid were answered. However, the nearest response force consisted of two battle barges belonging to the "Angry Marine" Astartes Chapter.
The Astartes response to the alien incursion was so much swifter and so much more brutal than the initial Draethri invasion, that the Imperial forces who had been fighting a desperate defense against the Xenos suffered numerous casualties due to entire regiments standing dumbstruck and horrified by the violence they were witnessing. Such cases resulted in troopers forgetting to defend themselves or pay attention to the enemies left in front of them for fear of missing a second of the action. Such behavior seems believable given the reports of Angry Marine Terminator squads ripping off sections of their sacred armor and beating numerous aliens to death with them, and other reports of the Angry Marines force feeding Draethri captives their own bleeding innards.
It was later discovered that the Draetheri fleet was an amalgamation of ships from several worlds their race had inhabited in the southern reaches of Segmentum Pacificus. These worlds were in the path of a far flung tendril of Hive Fleet Leviathan, and were soon to be invaded and consumed. So badly were the Draetheri routed from Forosia, however, that they fled back to their home worlds to face the Tyranid hive fleet. Their leaders considered extinction by the Tyranids preferable to facing the Angry Marines again.
The Angry Marines are not known for their restraint, which leads to the subject of this record. One month after the last living Xenos died on Forosia, the planet was destroyed in Exterminatus. The Angry Marines described an insidious foe that could not be destroyed by any conventional means, and had apparently waited to ambush them just as the Draetheri force was destroyed. The following transcript has been provided by Aerkon Pollock, the last surviving adjutant to the Planetary Governor, Gorm Leass.

Transcript Begins:
-----
"Brother Captain, the Forosian Planetary Council and I have a request to make of you and your Battle Brothers," said Governor Leass. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT NOW, COCK STINK!," replied Brother-Captain Shit-Ripper, leader of the Angry Marine task force. "The Xenos are routed, and I speak for the entire planet when I express the deepest of gratitude for your help in preserving our fair planet," Leass started. "But now we have a severe threat to our planet left behind by the Draetheri. Our Hives and Manufactorums have severely damaged municipal systems. Fires rage through two of our manufactorums completely unchecked. We have no capacity to put them out. Entire stocks of weapons and food rations made ready for nearby warzones and military campaigns are being destroyed in stockyards because of these infernos. We humbly ask if you could provide some assistance in neutralizing this threat?" Brother-Sergeant Fuckus-Them-Uppus replied for his Captain, "FUCK NO, I'M NOT YOUR BITCH SERVITOR, YOU FUCKING PRICK." "SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH, UPPUS," said Captain Shit-Ripper. "FAGGOTS," he said, turning to his assembled companies, "WE BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF ORKS, RIGHT!?" "FUCK YEAH WE DO!", shouted a marine. "KICK THEIR COCKS IN!", another chimed. Shit-Ripper continued "AND WE TEAR THOSE ELDAR CUNTS INTO CHUNKS, RIGHT?!" "I HATE THOSE FAIRY PANTSHITTERS", a Belligerent Engine groaned. "WELL, THOSE FUCKERS BREAK SHIT WHICH BELONGS TO THE EMPRAH!!!", announced the Captain,"AND THIS FIRE IS BREAKING HIS SHIT TOO! LETS RIP THIS FIRE A NEW ASSHOLE!!! ALWAYS ANGRY!!!!!" "ALL THE TIME!!", answered the assembled Marines. "Thank you so much Captain, we will convene immediately with the Mechanicum and-" "FUCK THOSE WIND-UP ASSHOLES, WE KNOW HOW TO KILL FIRE!!! WITH FIRE!!!", roared Captain Shit-Ripper.
-----
Transcript Ends;

The Angry Marines attacked the fires as they would any other of the Imperium's foes-- with Power Wrench and Chainsword, Heavy Bolter and Melta Gun. That very day, the Fires sweeping through the Manufactorums grew by an order of magnitude. The next week saw the fires spreading into the hive cities.
Millions died trying to escape the blaze. Matters were not helped when the Angry Marines, growing alarmed at the Fire's refusal to die in the Emperor's name, resorted to tactics most extreme to kill it. The Angry Marines loaded explosives onto cargo ships, which had been previously delegated to evacuate refugees off-planet, and flown into the blazing spires. Even orbital bombardments did not cause the flames to abate. Ultimately, the Angry Marines resorted to Exterminatus-- to prevent this grave threat to the Imperium from spreading to other worlds.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''"Only the insane have strength enough to prosper. Only those who prosper may truly judge what is sane." '' 
+++++ 

== A Day In the Life of an Angry Marine. ==
*''Excerpted from Angry Marines Codex and further compiled from field-reports by P.Al. Nitschittery, Imperial Inquisitor, Junior Class'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

*4:00 - Morning INSULTS - Led by the Company Chaplain, the Space Marines BETTER GET THEIR PUSSY ASSES IN ORDER BEFORE I STICK A POWER FOOT SO FAR UP SAID ANUS THEY WISH THEY WERE A SQUAT YOU CUNT!. 
*5:00 - Morning Firing Rites - The Space Marines engage in target practice with their personal and squad weaponry, awards and punishments are dispensed FOR BULLSHIT OR A LACK THEREOF AND IF ANY FUCKING SHIT FUCKER THINKS OTHERWISE TOMORROWS PRACTICE WILL BE A ROUSING GAME OF LICK THE CATACHAN BARKING TOAD YOU FUCKING WANK STAINS. 
*6:00 - Early Morning Meal - A light meal is prepared by the Chapter serfs. OH YES WE FUCKING EAT EGG AND SAUSAGE BREAKFAST SANDWICHES BY THE FUCKING TRUCKLOAD! WE ALSO DRINK FUCKTONS OF SUNNY D BECAUSE THAT SHIT IS FUCKING SWEET! WE ALSO SEND THE PRETTY FAGGOTS AND ULTRASMURFS A THOUSAND DONUTS WHILE WE WATCH SOME HIGH FUCKING QUALITY CARTOONS.
*7:00 - Battle Practice - BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF SHIT WITH YOUR POWER BAT, OR, BARRING THAT, JUST BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF SHIT WITH WHATEVER'S AVAILABLE. AND IF YOU'RE TOO PANTS ON HEAD RETARDED TO FIND SOMETHING TO HIT THEN YOU BETTER FUCKING START BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF THE GROUND BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED THIS PLANET HASN'T CONFESSED ITS SINS AGAINST THE EMPRAH. 
*12:00 - Midday Prayer - ANY ONE NOT TOO STUPID TO HIT THEMSELVES PRACTICES SCREAMING AT SHIT. EVERYONE ELSE CAN GO SUCK THE APOTHECARY'S DICK BECAUSE YOU DON'T NEED ANY MEDICINE FOR THAT TINY LITTLE BOLTER WOUND YOU FUCKTARD. 
*13:00 - Midday Meal - Normally local wildlife killed during the morning activities. AND BELIEVE ME WE KILL A LOT OF FUCKING BUNNY RABBITS AND PEPPERS AND SHIT AND EAT ALL OF IT AND LEAVE NONE FOR YOU. BOO-HOO, BITCH. 
*13:15 - Tactical Indoctrination - THIS USUALLY DOESN'T TAKE THIS LONG. I'LL JUST PUT UP A BIG PICTURE OF THE NEXT THING WE'RE GONNA SHOOT AND SAY "SHOOT THIS YOU FUCKERS" SERIOUSLY, WHO THE FUCK NEEDS AN HOUR AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES TO DO THAT. PUSSIES, THAT'S WHO. 
*15:00 - Battle Practice - SEE ABOVE IF YOU'RE NOT WEARING A NECKBRACE YOU INCOMPETENT LITTLE NIPPLE LICKER. WE HIT MORE SHIT WITH LARGER OBJECTS. 
*20:00 - Evening Prayer - I THINK YOU GET THE IDEA. I'M NOT GOING OVER THIS AGAIN. FUCK YOU. 
*21:00 - Evening Meal - A feast (by normal human standards) is provided by the Chapter serfs, and some Chapter Masters may allow alcohol to be consumed. FUCK YEAH IT IS. WE'LL ORDER LIKE A THOUSAND PIZZA'S TO THE PRETTY MARINES HOME WORLD AND THEN WE'LL STICK IN THE DVD'S OF ''BLOSSOM'' OR ''7TH HEAVEN'' OR...REALLY HARDCORE PORN. FUCK YOU, LITTLE FAGGOT SHOW WATCHING SHOW WATCHERS. GO WRITE IN YOUR LIVE JOURNAL. 
*21:30 - Night Firing Exercises - WE SPEND MORE TIME. HITTING MORE THINGS. WITH LARGER OBJECTS. IN THE DARK, FUKKEN DUH. 
*23:15 - Maintenance Rituals - FIX YOUR SHIT OR I'LL GRAB A TECH-PRIEST AND MAKE HIM FIX YOUR SHIT. ONE OF THOSE CLAUSES IS LITERAL. 
*23:45 - Free Time - Space Marines are permitted this time to reflect upon their duty to The Emperor, however many Chapter Masters regard free time as a frivolous waste, and a dangerous distraction in the extreme. EXCEPT WATCHING ''BLOSSOM''. FUCK YOU. 
*00:00 - Rest Period - BUT YOU BETTER NOT SPEND FOUR WHOLE HOURS SLEEPING. IF YOU DO YOU ARE NOT ANGRY ENOUGH AND TOMORROW YOU GET THE FIRST CHANCE TO PLAY ''PIN THE TAU ON THE CARNIFEX''. 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise.'' 
+++++ 

== The Rise of Librarian Moarfistin, the Extremely Cross ==

* ''Transcribed from the files of'' Vyler, Deviant Ecclesiastic of Holy Terra.
* ''Profile'' #d4fppg6'': Librarian Moarfistin, the Extremely Cross''
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Some say that before being brought into the chapter for initiation Moarfistin was a proctologist's assistant on a far flung Imperial colony. It was on that colony that an experimental plague released by Nurgle cultists caused a widespread pandemic of deadly dysentery.

The colony did not have a large population, and the colony's doctors, including his master, were the first targeted by the horrific disease. Being the only trained professional for his line of work, all the cases fell upon him. He slaved for months, mired in faeces and the corpses of his loved ones. A hellish life of failure and perpetual disgust eventually took its toll and he became increasingly violent and angry. One morning, he awoke to find that the last living colonists had shat themselves to death all over his equipment, and that the faeces had transformed into capering Nurglings. At this point his psychic powers manifested, and, records say, he "completely lost his shit".

The cultists were absolutely gleeful that their plague had done its work and killed the entire population; little did they know that one man, reinforced by a healthy diet high in fibre and latent psychic powers, had survived. A furious Moarfistin (as he would become known, original records on his true identity have been lost) came screaming over the horizon surrounded in a nimbus of psychic energy and as angry as at least 25 motherfuckers. Caught off guard, and then caught with medical instruments up their colons, the cultists knew true despair. This unstoppable path of destruction continued among the heretics as the newly born Moarfistin continued to force larger and larger objects up each individual anus.

[[File:Librarian_moarfistin_the_extremely_cross_by_vyler-d4fppg6(single_pose).jpg|thumb|right|''To see the sculpture of Librarian Moarfistin from which this entry is based, [[Angry_Marines#Gallery|see the gallery]]''. ''For the deviantart page where Librarian Moarfistin was sculpted, click here [http://j.mp/uC7r7m].'' ]]

Far away, an Angry Marine battle barge travelling the warp was buffeted by the waves of pure, seething, righteous rage. Impressed with this display of anger, and utterly furious that "pizza day" lunch had been interrupted, they diverted course to the world. There they found Moarfistin standing atop of pile of embarrassingly mutilated corpses; not a single daemon or cultist had survived. The scrawny, glowing figure was recorded as shouting: "THAT OUGHT TO SHUT YOUR FUCKING SHIT BOXES, YOU DRIBBLING CUNTS!!"

Although Space Marines usually recruit from feral worlds with hardy, muscular warriors, an exception was made for this otherwise scrawny butt doctor turned mad berserker. He was recruited immediately into the Librarium, where he would rise to a high rank.

Armed with the terrifying "Fisting Stick" and traveling in his mighty battle-barge, "Considerable Shouting", the Angry Marines [[Librarian]], Moarfistin is currently leading the Somethingth Company of Angry Marines on a Crusade to "COMPLETELY FUCK UP THOSE VAGINA HEAD TAU". He decided to do this after accidentally viewing Gundam fanart of a particularly disturbing nature. Unfortunately (for all the enemies of the Imperium between point A and point B) he started the crusade while on the complete opposite end of the galaxy from the Tau Empire. 

When an allied inquisitor questioned the sanity of plotting a course directly through the Eye of Terror, Moarfistin replied "IT WILL BE THE BLEEDING ASSHOLE OF TERROR WHEN I'M DONE WITH IT!!". To prove his point he then impaled a carnifex with its own head and gave the inquisitor a full body Apache burn as well as wedgie, all within the span of eleven seconds. 

The "Somethingth Company" of Angry Marines is named as it is because the normally chaotic organization of the Chapter is compounded by fact that Moarfistin recruited for the Crusade by simply yelling "YOU STUPID SHITS DON'T LOOK BUSY!! GET ON BOARD, WE'RE KILLING SOME FUCKING XENOS!!". Thus began what is anticipated to be a very long, bloody campaign. 

Menacing as Librarian Moarfistin's appearance is, some would wonder why he lacks a psychic hood. To which he responds "I DON'T NEED A GOOFY LOOKING MAGIC HAT TO PROTECT ME FROM HERETICAL BULLSHIT!" 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Any problem can be solved with the proper application of power boots to the groin.'' 
+++++ 

===continuation of Moarfistin's story===

Moarfistin is the Chief Mindfucker of the Angry Marines, the equivalent of a Chief Librarian of an Astartes chapter. Due to a tragic incident involving a Nurgle cult unleashing a plague at his home colony, Moarfistin was driven to insanity, but this was also when he discovered his latent abilities as a psyker and was picked up and immediately recruited by the Angry Marines. Having risen very quickly up through the chapters ranks and now possessing his own battle barge (Considerable Shouting) Moarfistin decided to start his very own crusade against the Tau (FUCKING CHEESE LOVING CUNT HEADS!!!) and founded his very own company, the Somethingth Company, which was made up of all the Angry Marines nearby who didn’t have anything better to do and felt like a road trip to fuck up some xenos was an excellent idea.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, it is all, after all, a matter of one’s perspective) for Moarfistin his route across the galaxy (an initially quiet and pleasant one as it only went straight through the EYE OF TERROR) has been made even more difficult due to the formation of the Cicatrix Maledictum, the galaxy wide shit hole which now bisects, intertwines and flat out covers Moarfistin’s route. This has him furious on multiple levels as firstly “FUCKING CHOAS SHIT EATING CUNTS!!!”, secondly “THE FUCKING NURGLINGS ARE GETTING IN THE WAY OF ME FISTING SOME VAGINA FISH!!! And thirdly “NOW I HAVE TO START ANOTHER FUCKING CRUSADE!!! I DON’T HAVE FUCKING TIME FOR THIS!!!” As it stands, Moarfistin and his crusade are sitting right in the middle of the galactic tear in the maelstrom, and has the choice of setting up camp and simply cruising up and down the Maledictum fighting anything and everything he finds, or to ignore the galaxy wide toilet and keep on ploughing through to tau territory.

Being the smart and proactive psychic nut case that he is, Moarfistin has decided to do both, and currently has his crusade raiding and pillaging all nearby daemon worlds, cultist hideouts and chaos space marine vessels to build a brand new battle barge named the “Suicidal Insanity”, and has split his crusade down the middle (rather literally as there were an odd number of marines, said marine now has two bionic legs and an arm and his removed limbs were grafted onto a servitor), with the Suicidal Insanity staying behind to perform a crusade up and down the Maledictum, while Considerable Shouting continues onto the Tau worlds.

This still leaves the issue of who is to command the Suicidal Insanity while Moarfistin goes vagina hunting, a problem with Moarfistin had another elegant solution to, and that is to make a copy of himself to command his new crusade, using his warp presence to power it, an idea he immediately dropped (AND WAS MOST CERTAINLY NOT THE MAIN PLOT POINT IN THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THIS STORY!!! NO HERESEY TO BE SEEN HERE!!!) as being too crazy even for him. That left his second (AND TOTALLY NON-HERETICAL!!!) last idea which would be to promote a likeminded Angry Marine to the rank of company captain, and too this end he gathered all the Angry Marines together under his command into the mess hall of the Considerable Shouting. “ALRIGHT YOU SACKS OF FUCKING GROZ MANURE!!!” He bellowed at the collected marines “LAST ONE STANDING GETS TO BE IN CHARGE OF THE NEW SHIP!!!” He had barely finished saying “in charge” before (in true Angry marine style) the Angry Marines started fighting, with broken bottles, power bats, honey badgers, power feet and even other Angry Marines being used as bludgeoning tools.

Having seen this display plenty of times before, Moarfistin joined in for a few minutes to knock out a few marines that he just didn’t like then retired to his quarters, knowing that the entire company of marines would be fighting for quite a while, and even a good fight gets boring when it’s been going for several days. 2 days, 9 hours, 23 minutes, 6 seconds and three massive shits later, Moarfistin returned to the mess hall to see who was left standing, passing down the corridors filled with bruised, battered and swearing marines being patched up with duct tape, to find only two marines left still punching each other in their now shattered helmets. “WILL YOU FUCKING HURRY UP YOU CUNTS!!!” He shouted at the two remaining marines “I’VE GPT SOME WEEABOOS TO GO AND FIST BEFORE SLASNESHMAS COMES AROUND AGAIN!!!” The arrival of Moarfistin had roused the marines capable of being roused, who formed a circle around the fighters to add their insults to the fight “FUCKING KICK HIS NUTS!!!” “IVE SEEN ELDAR PANSIES PUNCH BETTER!!!” “CAN YOU FUCKING HURRY UP, SO WE CAN FUCKING EAT!!!” The added insults had the desired effect, as both fighters pulled back their right legs and simultaneously delivered savage kicks to the others privates, instantly knock both of them over into moaning heaps on the floor. “FUCK THIS SHIT!!!” Exclaimed Moarfistin “I CAN’T BE FUCKED WAITING ARPUND FOR YOU TO FIGHT AGAIN!!! YOUR NOW BOTH THE CAPTAINS OF THE NEW COMPANY NOW I’M OFF TO KICK SOME TAU IN THE CUNTS!!!”

And just like that, Moarfistin continued his journey (he is now fighting his way through the outskirts of tau space) leaving the two new company captains (now named Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt) on the Suicidal Insanity in charge of the (aptly named) “WHY DO WE HAVE TO FOLLOW THOSE CUNTS?!!!” Company. While Moarfistin’s crusade can be kept track of via the trail of destroyed (and fisted) tau worlds, nothing is currently known of the Suicidal Insanity and it’s two captains, but it is assumed that continued their crusade instead of punching each other for all eternity.

++++++++++

Thought for the day: Beware the Weeaboo, the waifu, the loli.

++++++++++

== Fuckew McHugerage ==

* ''Audio file #002521220, recovered from <s>Gamorax Colony</s> Gamorax debris field
* ''Final notes of'' Inquisitor Phorik
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Great hero of the Angry Marines, Captain Fuckew "Nid-fucker" McHugerage, is Ranking Captain of the Second Company and imbued with the honorific title "SUPREME LARGE FURIOUS FUCKER OF THE TYRANIDS", of which the Angry Marines only have one at a given time.

This honorific is earned by a supreme act of absolutely unfettered rage that even the Angry Marines find impressive. Indeed, Fuckew Mchugerage is one of the most accomplished psychopaths of the Angry Marines.

Fuckew was known in particular for his incredible anger whenever faced by any foe who had more than one leg. While his one weakness is that he is rather sedate when faced with one-legged foes (he only screams at a moderate volume and force-feeds his defeated foes only one or two of their own limbs), his rage is multiplied as the amount of legs on a foes increases to a level rivaling that of Temperus himself.

This came to a boil in his first engagement with the Tyranids. As he and his second company, with him at the lead, fought the Tyranid hordes, he screamed with such rage that the Hive Mind itself recoiled and its control over the swarms was impaired. It was recorded that the day of the battle, a 9000-man Imperial Guard regiment in the nearby vicinity simply exploded as the wave of PURE ANGER hit them.

Coming face to face with an eight-limbed Hive Tyrant, Fucke-

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''From the sheer force of anger and rage overwhelming shall be borne fire to cleanse heresy.'' 
+++++ 

== An Inelegant Snub ==
*''Excerpted from the diaries of Lieutenant Pretentiousness, beautiful servant of The Emperor and amazingly good looking soldier of the Pretty Marines'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The beautiful sun rose high above the glorious desert planet and I looked in wonder at the beauty The Emperor had graced us with. I turned to Brother Starr, his microphone held high as he prepared to give a beautifully arousing speech to all the brothers gathered there. I turned quickly to brush a speck of dust off that had landed on my armor, and breathed a sigh of relief that no one had seen that. As Brother Starr gave his address I looked into the sky and beheld a yellow Thunderhawk streaming toward the planet. It landed a few meters away kicking dust in all directions.

"Brothers, evasive action!" Each member of the chapter pulled out his industrial strength hair dryer, the flashes of purple lighting up the terrain below as the brothers tried in vain to keep the dust from dirtying their armor. It was of no avail, I heard wails of despair... there would be much washing tonight. I looked out over the landscape to see several yellow glints rushing toward the lines of our chapter. I looked closer and saw the figures of five yellow-clad Space Marines rushing toward us. Three of them held what looked like glorified wrenches, and the fourth carried a most unsightly banner. The fifth marine was hidden behind a mass of cardboard he carried with him. I heard their scream as they drew closer, drowning out all other sound, a horribly insensitive scream that rose above all other noise.
"SUCK ON THIS, YOU PANSIFIED FAGGOTS!!" The one carrying the cardboard dropped all of it and the five stood for a second. 

"ALWAYS ANGRY!" 

"ALL THE TIME!" 

The five turned and ran back the way they had come, and as their ship lifted off I saw several middle fingers on the side of the ship, still wet with new paint, and bearing the name, "The Bird". I turned away in disgust, gracefully raising my chin.

I stepped down toward the mass of cardboard, helping brothers remove dust from their hair on the way.

I approached the mass of cardboard that had marred our beautiful desert landscape. Lying next to it was a small piece of paper. I knelt down and gingerly picked up the paper and turned it over.

Printed on the paper was a receipt for 1001 pizzas with anchovies and pineapple, upon which was scrawled a crude imitation of my own signature. On the bottom one word was written in red ink, barely legible: 

<center>'''OWNED'''</center>

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Consider the magnitude of your duty at leisure, but act without hesitation when action is required.'' 
+++++ 

== The Green-Hands Heresy ==
*''From the historical records of'' Inquisitor Seros'', investigator of Adeptus Astartes'' "Incidents" 
*Section #7193: ''The Green-Hands Heresy "Incident" of Kickass Prime''
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

I was sent to the planet of “Kickass Prime”, a planet claimed by a chapter of Battle Brothers known as the “Angry Marines”. This particular sector of the Marines had referred to themselves as the “Brawndo” sector of the Chapter due to their love of an energy drink from the Dark Age of Technology. This love of a drink, Emperor knows how they obtained some of the original in the first place, had caused them to complain to various sources until the item in question was mass produced. The drink spread across the Chapter like a Tyranid swarm and the sector was allowed to keep the name due to the drink being “''ULTRA FUCKING SWEET!''”

The problem I was sent to solve, however, did not involve the drink. Rather, there were claims of Heresy amongst the ranks of the Angry Marines. It seems sometime during a cleansing of Ork, the Angry Marines took upon the “choppas” of the fallen Ork horde. While this itself is slightly Heretical, for they have slightly shunned the holy weapons of the Emperor, another blasphemy had occurred within the sector. One of the sergeants of the sector took great pride in felling a particularly large Ork and wanted its “Big Choppa” as a trophy. Unfortunately, the death-grip of the beast was too strong, even for a mighty Space Marine, and so the weapon remained in the clutch of the Ork. Not to be denied his prize, the sergeant proceeded to cut the hands off the Ork at the wrists. Afterward, when the beast was be-handed, as the case would be, the sergeant again tried to remove the hands to no-avail. This infuriated the already wrathful sergeant further. The sergeant subsequently summoned an apothecary to chop off his hands, and replace them with the Ork’s. This was Heresy beyond simply taking a fallen weapon; this was denying the hands given to him by the holy Gene-seed!

When I arrived on the planet, one of my main questions was: 'Why was this not reported by the sector and instead reported by another Chapter?'

I was given the same reply from everyone I asked: “''BECAUSE IT WAS REALLY FUCKING AWESOME, ASSHOLE!''” Apparently in the time after the sergeant had committed this deed, others followed his example, taking not only the weapons of the Orks, but also other body parts. I’m more than certain there was a marine with an Ork head replacing a pauldron. This I could not stand, I demanded to see the sergeant responsible for the mess. They lead me to the sergeant now known as “Greenhands”. The name was suitable, for there he was, the giant Ork hands looking ridiculous attached to his comparatively normal marine arms. He had the Choppa hung over his back when he accosted me, asking “''WHAT IN THE SERIOUS FUCK ARE ONE OF YOU INQUISITORS DOING HERE?!! SHOULDN’T YOU BE OUT LOOKING FOR CHAOS OR SOME SHIT?!''” I replied to him that I was indeed here due to claims of Heresy. In retrospect, I should not have said that. From the moment I uttered "Heresy", the whole of the camp within earshot began frantically running around cursing wildly, looking for any sign of Heresy they could find so they could stomp it out. This did please me, somewhat. It could very well have been that these Brothers were not Heretical, merely... simple-minded.

After about half an hour and a few small mammals squashed and shot repeatedly at point-blank range with bolters, Sgt. Greenhands returned to me and assured me that any possible Heresy had been wiped out. I told him that the Heresy was due to his weapon and new appendages. He berated me and asked if anyone told me how “''REALLY FUCKING AWESOME''” it was. I assured him that his fellow Battle Brothers did indeed tell me this was the case, but carrying an enemy’s weapon instead of a holy weapon given to him by fellow servants of the Emperor and replacing his hands with an enemy’s was indeed Heresy. The sergeant thought on this for a minute before calling for one of the sector’s Chaplains. After explaining to him that I was here because of his new weapon and because I “''WOULDN’T KNOW AWESOME IF IT BIT HIM''[me]''ON THE ASS''” he asked if the Chaplain could do anything to “''SHUT THIS PUSSY UP!''” The Chaplain looked at me and commenced a verbal tirade that very possibly rivaled that of the sergeant's. At any rate, he then reached into his pouch for a Purity Seal. He took one out, wrote some words on the paper attached (which I can only hope were Holy Sermons of the Emperor), and then proceeded to place the Purity Seal onto the weapon. The Chaplain then stood before me and without looking back, pointed at the Choppa and said “''SANCTIFIED, BITCH!''”

I then proceeded to take my leave of the Angry Marines, assuring them they would be cleared of all Heresy charges as long as they continued to cleanse the Ork weapons of taint but this would not be excused if such matters were extended to Chaos Weapons. The Chaplain agreed saying, “''WE KNOW NOT TO TAKE ANYTHING FROM THOSE CHAOS FUCKS, ASSHOLE!''” He then pulled my undergarments over my head and kicked me onto my transport.

I have written this report standing up.

+++++

Thought for the Day: ''Faith in the Emprah is the strongest weapon we have.''

+++++ 

== The Shitkicking Skirmish ==

* ''Extracted from the Imperial archives on Holy Terra.''
* ''Dataport #55892B, Section 87D-3A, Adm.Sublevel 12.''
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The pissed off Angry Marines on board the Cruiser ”IFUCKDURMOM” were rushing to the nearest drop pods, wanting to be the first one knocking the shit out of the Chaosfags attacking the imperial world 'Pandaemonium Prime'. The Chaos Marines of the Emperors Children had begun an orgy of murder, rape and recording furry porn to please their dark masters.

”''COCKSUCKING FUCKING ARSEBISCUITS''” one of the Angry Marines bellowed as a squad of Angry Marines rushed to the surface in a drop pod. This traditional pre-mission term of imminent shitkicking was hailed by roars and profanities as the pissed off death dealers started punching and headbutting the interior of the drop pod.

The arrival on the surface of the planet was as violent as to be expected.

Brother-Chaplain Smackface saw the reinforcements and immediately proceeded to give orders to the newcomers. ”''TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH YOU COCKGOBBLERS, WE HAVE ORDERS TO FUCK SHIT UP, KICK ASS AND MAKE SURE THE CHAOSFAGS TAKE THE FUCKING HINT THIS TIME!!!''”. Even during a heated firefight Brother Chaplain Smackface was as usual more detailed in his description of the situation than most commanders in the Chapter. To which one marine remarked; ”''OH JUST LET US AT THEM ALREADY YOU BITCHING ASSJOCKEY!!''”. The Chaplain, cursing and infuriated, immediately picked up the marine and threw him in a perfect arch into the fray.

The marine, nicknamed 'Shitkicker', found himself flying in a perfect arch into the fray and landing amidst a large group of cultists adorned in pink, chains, leather and fursuits. Before the cultists could even react to the surprising arrival of the yellow pissed off character, the Angry Marine let off a string of four-letter curses, infuriated with a burning rage by the pussypantsfaggotry. And within milliseconds he became a blur, tearing the cultists apart, limb by limb, still letting off violent tirades of obscenities at the chaos worshipers around him.

After ripping off the heads of countless heretics, Chaplain Smackface arrived with the squad Shitkicker had arrived with. “''SO YOU WORTHLESS CUNT MANAGED NOT TO WHINE, CRY AND DIE LIKE A BITCH? WELL IF YOU DON'T STOP ARSING ABOUT AND FOLLOW ME I'LL RAPE YOUR SKULL OPEN WITH A GIANT SPIKY DILDO, YOU DILDO!!!''”. After given these new orders Shitkicker started to sprint with the other marines. Their objective soon became apparent after he heard the thumping sound of large chaos dreadnoughts.

“''THESE CHAOSFAGS DON'T FUCKING GET THAT IF WE KILL YOU, YOU BETTER STAY DEAD AND BUTTFUCKED OR ELSE WE'LL SKULLFUCK YOUR SORRY ASS SOME MORE!!''” the chaplain calmly stated after seeing the dreadnoughts making their way towards the main body of the angry marine taskforce. Knowing that if the enemy would engage the other Angry Marines before they could get their hands on the chaosfags still pants-on-head retarded enough to be named the “''EMPERORS'' children”, the other angry marines would rip them to pieces and not leaving any asskicking for Chaplain Smackface and his squad.

While moving through the vast army of furryfuckers and pinktards, delivering some serious lecturing about what happens when you even think about heresy, the contingent of Angry Marines were closing in on the dreadnoughts. The chaplain quickly assessed the situation and exclaimed the mighty battlecry of the Angry Marines; ''FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-''

+++++++

Thought of the day: ''Heresy is the very definition of "Doing it wrong".''

+++++++ 

== Recruitment By Fire ==

* ''An excerpt from the Journal of Brother-Sergeant Josephus Corric, 6th Company of the Angry Marines, former Imperial Guard, Corporal of the 40th Infantry (Mechanized), Echo Company'' 
*'' Regarding events during 995.M41 on Gudrun, Helican Segmentum Obscurus'' 

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

We were moving forward to assault this Enemy held outpost when we were stopped by a company of Traitor Marines. Us softies, well, we’re no match for all that power armor and lets be candid, the standard IG issue lasgun is about as effective against power armor as harsh language.

The Enemy was dug in to this hillside deep and good. They had thrown up earthworks and camouflaged the area pretty well. Nothing had showed up on our auspex or geothermal imaging. We walked right into the area without warning and the Enemy began shooting.

It was not pretty. Textbook ambush that could have come right from basic tactics class. The Enemy waited until half of the company had passed them and then opened fire. They had at least two quad-linked heavy bolters hidden in those hills. The incoming fire was so thick I thought I could see individual bolter rounds as they were fired.

The first ranks of men were mowed down so quickly they didn't even have time to scream. One moment they were there, the next there were just steaming body parts oozing blood.

The ranks farther back... well, I don’t think I’ll ever forget those screams. The Enemy swung those quads over the line of men and watched them fall. Farther back, the rounds weren’t as effective; that is, they did not kill cleanly. The Enemy seemed to take a perverse joy in shooting the wounded. Listening to them scream, watching them bleed...
We paid a heavy price for relying on those Adeptus Mechanicus instruments rather than our eyes. That won't happen again, I can tell you.

As we sought cover, I noticed that no one was giving orders. I expected some Commissar or officer to start rallying the men and when that didn’t happen it dawned on me that I was the ranking man. Talk about a weird sensation, being in charge and all. Surreal.

I figured that since the Astartes get all the credit, they might as well do the heavy lifting. So I made the command decision to call them in. Our company was supported by the Angry Marines and I got their vox frequency off my dead lieutenant.

“This is 40th ID, Echo company, transmit to Astartes detachment. We are south south-east 22 clicks from debarkation and have had our advance halted by fortified Enemy located at coordinates 37 23.516 ...”

“WHADDAYA WANT??!!”

I was startled by the abrupt reply that overrode my vox transmission. “Uh, well, we encountered some Traitor Marines dug in...”

“WHAT??? PANSY ASSES HIDING IN THE GROUND?!! WHERE??!!”

“37 23.516 -122 02.625" I said, giving the location of the GPS coordinates.

There was an uncomfortable pause on the vox.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT???!!!”

I reasoned they were experiencing mechanical difficulties with their instruments. So, I figured I'd describe some landmarks. “Uh, well, we’re by this mountain and there is a stream near by...”

“LIGHT A FUCKING FLARE, YOU ASSHOLE!!! MARK THE DZ AND GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!!!”

I was a bit taken back. “Very well. Watch for the green flares.”

There was no response from the vox.

I got my troops to mark a zone a few hundred meters from our position and then we waited. I listened to the vox and gathered intel. Seems that there was some heavy atmospheric interference and that only sub orbital craft could be used.

I heard the sound of roaring engines at full thrust. Four Valkyries entered our airspace, their thrusters on full as they came in low. Was the rear hatch open? I could see glints of red and yellow through the small gaps in the hatch. Were the occupants crouched and ready to ... jump? No, that had to be a mistake, no one inserts a ground assault at full throttle...

“GET OUTTA THE WAY, CUNTSICLE!!!” I heard through the vox. The Valkyries did not slow as they approached. In fact, they seemed to speed up. When the Valkyries were directly over our position, the marines ... jumped. I’d never seen anything like it.

In seconds there were sixteen yellow and red figures raining from the sky, each armed with ... bats and wrenches?

“WE GOT US SOME HEADS TO CRACK!” We got out of the way, alright. The marines came down on the Enemy position mere meters from the redoubt. The Enemy was surprised too, they didn’t even fire. The yellow and red wave crashed over the redoubt and the combat was joined, hand to hand. Or wrench to head, as it were.

I stood up to get a better look at the battle. No, this was carnage and I wanted to join. I wanted payback for the ambush. “For the Emperor!!! For the Fortieth!!! FORWARD!!!” I yelled. Echo company sprang from their cover and rushed the redoubt. We took the position and mopped up what the marines left us. Literally. There was not much left and what was left could fit in a bucket.

In the midst of the slaughter, I noticed a change in the battle. We were no longer moving up the redoubt. Fact was, we were not moving at all. We were taking cover from plasma bolts that were being shot from further within the hillside. I moved along side a Marine that was cleaning bits of a helmet from the jaws of his power wrench.

“Status, Sir?” I asked after saluting.

The marine looked up from his cleaning, “WE’RE GETTING SHOT AT, ASSHOLE!!! YOU NEED ME TO TELL YOU THAT?!!!”

Indeed, we were. The forces of the Enemy had established another system of redoubts and had fortified them with plasma emplacements. Which were laying down an impressive suppressing fire. The Angry Marines were, well, angry, but not stupid. No one charges into plasma guns fired from a fortified redoubt. So there we all were, taking cover in that trench, waiting for... Well, I was not sure what we were waiting for. I was sure that no one was going to charge into that plasma.

The marines conferred with one another. I heard snippets of their conversation: “TOO FUCKING FAR...OUT OF RANGE...THOSE FUCKING FUCKS...CANT GET THE FUCKING ANGRINATOR IN HERE...WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LISTENING TO, ASSHOLE??!!!” The last comment was directed at me. “Sorry.”

“DAMN RIGHT, YOU ARE!!!” Just then the Marine with the power wrench stood at the redoubt’s edge and yelled, “FUCKING PANSIES!!! STOP SHOOTING!!! HONORLESS WIMPS!!!” He threw the piece of helmet he had freed from the wrench’s jaw. There was still something in that helmet...

Incredibly, the fire stopped. Even the Marines were surprised.

“Worshipers of the corpse-emperor! Surrender and welcome the embrace of Chaos!!!” The voice was silky smooth and deep, yet deadly. Like broken glass in ice cream.

All of the marines began screaming insults in return. They were imaginative and dealt mainly with detailed instructions on how the Enemy could fornicate with a Catachan devil. This then progressed into fornication with plasma engines, then fornication with various edged weapons, and then fornication with their mothers and other ancestors. It was getting... repetitive.

I figured I should do something. I approached the Angry Marine with the wrench. He paused in his insults and took notice of my presence. “Let me try”, I said.

“YOU UP FOR THIS, FUCKFACE?!” He bellowed. I did not get the impression that he was purposely hostile toward me; this seemed to be his usual means of address. “Yessir!” I replied.

“HAVE AT IT!!!” Grinning, he gestured rudely toward the Enemy ranks and stepped aside.

Incredibly, the Angry Marines stopped shouting. They were still seething, the air between them charged with heated rage, but they did not utter a word. All eyes were on me.

“This is Corporal Josephus Corrick, 40th Imperial Guard Infantry, Mechanized, acting commander of Echo Company. You are surrounded. Surrender, and we will show you the Emperor’s mercy.”

“No. You are surrounded. You surrender and we won't wear your skin on our armor.” Came the reply.

The Angry Marines groaned. I remained unperturbed. “Look, no more blood need...”

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!” Came the response. Angry Marines were shaking their heads and becoming impatient. I was feeling a bit irritated.

“This is foolishness! You have no chance! This redoubt is the last point of resistance...”

“FFFUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!” The Enemy blew me a raspberry. The Angry Marines were laughing now. At me.

I felt my face flush “Surrender now and we promise you...”

“Worshipper of the corpse-emperor! We will wash you away from this planet in an unending tide of blood! Join us and you will know true glory in serving chaos!!!”

I froze in place. The world suddenly became very quiet and time froze. It was just me with my thoughts. After watching half of my company torn to shreds by the Enemy, they were asking me to ''join'' them? The screams of my brothers in arms, still fresh in my mind, came to the fore of my mind. Suddenly, something changed, igniting a deep rage within my self that surprised me. But I embraced it. The rage and anger gave me a strength I did not know I had. My voice boomed over the battlefield as if I were using a vox.

“Join ...you. Join...you. JOIN YOU???!!! Why in the FUCK WOULD I JOIN THE LOSING SIDE???!!! You traitor assholes turned your back on your legion, your species, YOUR EMPEROR to do what? TO BE ON THE LOSING SIDE??!!! You are on... what? The 11th, no, 12th , no, 13th Black Crusade? That’s an uninterrupted twelve time LOSING STREAK!!! You would think that you fucks could get it right one time in TEN THOUSAND YEARS!!!

The Angry Marines fell silent and looked upon me, with respect. I was encouraged.

“Power of Chaos? The only power I see is THE POWER TO FAIL!!! CHAOS MAKES YOU STUPID!!! FUCK'N A! WHO THE FUCK JOINS SOMEONE WITH A TRACK RECORD LIKE THAT???"

I was rolling now. The anger burned within me like a plasma drive at full power.

"'RUINOUS POWERS'??? THE ONLY RUIN I SEE IS YOU SHITTING YOUR PANTS!!! DUMBFUCKS!!! WHO IS THE ONE COWERING IN THE BOTTOM OF A FUCKING HOLE, BITCH???!!!”

The Angry Marines broke out into a hearty applause. There was no response from the Enemy. Just an embarrassed silence. They started shooting again, but it was just filler.

The Angry Marines were still clapping. I moved back from the rampart and the anger still burned within me. “Join them... chaos must make you stupid... fucking fucktards...”

The Angry Marine with the power wrench approached me. He removed his helmet and spoke, “HEY ASSHOLE! THINK YOU CAN FIGURE OUT WHICH END OF THIS TO USE???” He handed me his power wrench. It was beautiful. A meter long of polished adamantium, perfectly balanced and the head still dripping with the blood of the Enemy.

“FUCK YEAH!” I bellowed back.

“RIGHT!!! HERE'S THE PLAN, I THROW YOU INTO THE ENEMY AND YOU KILL THEM. THINK YOU CAN REMEMBER THAT??!!!”

I did not even get to respond before he picked me up and threw me boldly over the rampart directly at the Enemy position. Thank the Emperor, the Enemy was just as surprised as I was, and didn't shoot me out of the sky. I landed a half a meter short of the twin linked plasma gun the Enemy had placed in the redoubt. Without thinking, I hit the mount with the power wrench as hard as I could. Then I felt the shock up my arms and nearly dropped it. Two things then occurred to me: 1) that I should turn it on, and, 2) I was going to die. Lucky (or not so lucky as I found out later) for me, the gun-operator assumed the wrench was on and dived away from the emplacement. I lit up the power wrench, let out a warcry, and triumphantly hit the gun. There was a bright flash of light and that was all I remember.

I woke up later. Much later. I was in a hospital ward surrounded by arcane instruments of unknown purpose. The Angry Marine was there; the one that gave me his power wrench. He saw I was awake.

“WHAT KIND OF STUPID FUCKER USES A POWER WRENCH ON A PLASMA EMPLACEMENT???!!!"

He shook his head with incredulity.

"FUCKING CHAOS PUSSIES RUNNING AROUND, ON FIRE, SCREAMING, AND YOU SLEEPING THROUGH THE WHOLE THING!!!” He laughed. It was an angry laugh.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW WRENCH, FUCKTARD. JUST SO I CAN KEEP MY EYE ON YOU, THIS APOTHECARY IS GOING TO RAM SOME GENESEED THROUGH YOUR FUCKING SKULL.”

There was a hint of a smile in his eye as he walked out of the room.

“WELCOME TO THE ANGRY MARINES... ASSHOLE.”

== Assault Sergeant Dickface ==
* From the archives of Drywalker Fen
* File #61225A: Assault Sergeant Dickface
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Assault Marine Dickface was promoted to the rank of Sergeant during the Heresy of Drywalker Fen in 912.M41. His squad was to be deployed as an attack on the position of heretic leadership. Unfortunately the [[Thunderhawk]] that transported the squad was shot down by enemy fire and the brothers were scattered. During the attack Dickface had lost most of his equipment and had to make do with a weapon he found at the site of a bombed encampment; a two-handed [[chainsword]]. As he attempted to regroup with his squad, Dickface got his ass stuck in the fens of Drywalker. As he tried to pull himself free from the goop, Dickface had the idea of firing up his jump pack to full power. It eventually tore him free, but send him hurtling through the air. He noticed that by divine aid this was straight in the direction of his squad's target, and shouted "OPEN WIDE, MOTHERFUCKERS" before descending onto them like an angel of wrath.

Pict footage later determined that upon landing, through a combination of luck and skill, Dickface managed to shove his chainsword through the mouth of the heretic commander all the way down out of his pelvis, impaling him in a single motion. Dickface then proceeded to beat enemy command to death with the impaled body of their commander, after which he cut the weapon free through the corpse's back. Dickface then proceeded to repeat this on six infantry platoons, a score of heavy weapon teams and a trio of [[Sentinel]] walkers, killing their operators by pouncing on the cockpit and forcing the weapon through the vehicles' vision slits.

For his heroics and skill, Dickface was elevated to the position of Assault Sergeant and was granted one of the Chapter's "Angry [[Beakie]]" Mark VI Corvus suits of [[Power Armor]]. While his position as a Sergeant allowed him to wield the traditional Power Bats and Power Wrenches of the Angry Marines; he opted to keep the weapon he found, dubbing it "Throatfucker". While some Angry Marines believe him to be a "TAINTFONDLING SHOWOFF WHO THINKS HE'S TOO FUCKING HARDCORE FOR A POWER BAT". For this reason, Sergeant Dickface's skill with Throatfucker has been proven time and again.

+++++++ 

Thought for the day: do not wonder, as curiosity invites disaster.

+++++++ 

== Induction V2.0 ==

Original version of the story was a mess and can be found [[Talk:Angry_Marines#original_Induction|here]]

The dimly lit troop section of the drop pod was filled with noises that could pass for grunts under the sustained G of the drop pod's separation engine. Nine Space Marines endured the invisible hand of inertia with outward 'patience' and 'calm' born as much of familiarity as of training, genetic engineering, surgery and simmering RAGE. Nine squad'mates', and one other: even more calm, even if that was less attributable to experience.

The squad sergeant unsubtly looked his new charge over with a practiced and twitching eye, assessing everything from bearing to attentiveness. Battle-Brother Ten was of course under significant pressure from acceleration, made worse by the necessity for the Primaris Marine to slump deeply in his crash couch to accommodate his elongated torso. His legs, too, were splayed out awkwardly on either side of the sergeant's knees, a sight which filled the sergeant with no end of angry amusement.

"ARE YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKER TRYING TO HIT ON ME LIKE A SLANEESHY FAGGOT?!?" said the sergeant with what could pass as a grin among sharks and other species known for biting people's faces off. Shouts that could be laughter echoed around the drop pod as the G eased off, the squad adjusting their positions for re-entry.

"Your customs and sense of humour are strange to me, sergeant." replied the Primaris. "I cannot imagine that Primarch Guilliman would approve of your lack of focus ahead of such an important operation; nor of the..." he stopped suddenly, weighing whether his statement would be received as insubordinate. "... condition of your wargear."

Ten had, perhaps, a point. While his own Mark X power armour was gleaming, freshly painted in the livery of his new Chapter and hand-polished to a shine, the rest of the squad looked as if they'd been dragged feet-first through a chainswords foundry. Pieces of half a dozen different armour marks adorned the squad, and while the detritus of previous warzones had been hosed off as part of ship's quarantine, battle damage was still evident on all.

The sergeant in particular was a trainwreck. As Ten's eyes moved down from the sergeant's dented "beaky" helmet to the acid-scarred torso, to the axe-gouged thigh piece, he was perplexed to notice the sergeant's right hand resting with the thumb and forefinger joined to make a circle. As his head exploded with pain, swiftly dampened by his suit's autoapothecary, Ten felt anger rising at the stunning blow from the sergeant's other hand, its brutal strength belying the smaller marine's stature.

The rest of the squad squirmed in their acceleration harnesses to watch the show, while the hull started to whine against the increasingly dense atmosphere.

"LISTEN WELL TO THE RULES OF THE FUCKING GAME, YOU CUMGOBBLER AMATEUR!!" said the sergeant almost pleasantly, resuming his casual stance of barely contained anger and resting one foot on a large reinforced sack full of something that gave a metallic clink under the weight; like gold bars in a concrete mixer.

"My name is Primaris Augustus."

"YOUR NAME DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER!!!" retorted the sergeant, ejecting a round from his battered boltgun, "NOW LOOK AT THIS PIECE OF SHIT!!!" Ten glanced at it, noticing again that the sergeant had pinched it between thumb and forefinger to form a circle. Before Ten could react, the sergeant slammed him in the crotch with an armoured boot.

"IF YOU ARE NOT AS BIG A FAGGOT AS YOU ACT LIKE, YOU'LL GET A FUCKING NAME SOMEDAY!!!" barked the sergeant. "YOU ARE NOT ANGRY OR BLOODY MANLY ENOUGH TO BE ONE OF OURS!!!" indicating Ten's immaculately maintained bolt rifle and armor, "YOU ARE JUST A BIGGER PIECE OF SHIT THAN YOUR AVERAGE GIRLYMAN FANBOY!!!"

Ten's temper was rising now. "On Mars, such undisciplined rabble would be liquified and fed to the servitors. I'm surprised that even works" he snarled through gritted teeth and eyes watering from the second blow, pointing furiously at the sergeant's dishevelled weapon. "And the next chaplain I see will hear of your insult to the Primarch."

The sergeant was visibly shaking with rage now, fully visible even in over the shaking of the re-entry fireball that was the drop pod. "IF YOU DON'T SHUT YOUR FUCKING FAGGOTY COCKSUCKING MOUTH I'LL LET THAT ASSHOLE MOFO HAVE A FIELD DAY WITH YOU!!!" he shouted. "HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES HAVE YOU DROPPED ON SOME FUCKER'S HEAD, YOU AMATEUR?!?" he screamed, almost helmet to helmet.

"Two times including this one!" yelled Ten, no longer caring about maintaining discipline in the face of the open conflict that had been bubbling ever since his recent arrival with the reinforcement fleet.

"THEN SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FAGGOT!!!" retorted the sergeant. "I NEVER FUCKING BOTHERED REMEMBERING THE NUMBER OF CUNTS AND ASSHOLES I'VE KICKED AND PUNCHED SO I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU OR YOUR OPINIONS!!! SO GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR WAY WHILE WE KICK SOME MOTHERFUCKING ASS!!!" Cocking his chainsword as retro-thrusters slammed into life, the sergeant turned his attention to the exit ramps.

Ten had never felt such rage at being treated so dismissively. As the pod crashed into the planet and the ramps deployed he burst furiously into the light and started laying into the swarm of Tyranid lifeforms swarming around the pod with the butt of his rifle. Shards of carapace and gouts of foul ichor flew in a maelstrom around him as he unleashed his boiling frustration.

It was several moments before he noticed the Hierophant bio-titan standing over him and watching him curiously, like a child examining an ant. The lesser lifeforms stopped their assault and backed away as the great beast lowered its head towards him, before they were trampled by the maddened rush of his brutish squadmates. Transfixed, Ten barely registered the sergeant's voice on his suit comm as the great maw opened to sample a new morsel. What was that psychopath shouting at him?

"''ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!''"

White hot rage exploded in Ten's brain as he leapt into the Heirophant's jaws, past the rows of monomolecular-edged teeth and deep into the back of its throat. There he hacked brutally at the soft flesh until the swallow reflex clenched bloody blankets of meat around him, forcing him down into the boiling acid in its gut.

Sergeant Dickface and the rest of the squad whooped in joyous ire as they clambered up the legs of the great beast, carving footholds with chainaxes and driving their power wrenches deep into its joints. They hacked and mutilated tendons, flesh and carapace. And when the great beast finally collapsed to its knees they punched it further, revelling in the righteous rage they always felt.

As the bio-titan slumped its distended belly to the battlefield, a gout of blood and meat ejected from what could only be its anus, coating the still fighting hordes of Tyranids and Marines in pitched battle around it. Dickface surveyed the dripping orifice with anger and rage, and maybe... expectation? As Ten emerged from it headfirst, he tossed a loose Carnifex talon at the Primaris' head before running up to the beast's ruined 'face'.

Still raging, his armour half-dissolved by pungent fluids, Ten hacked into the sphincter until it released him and he fell to the earth trailing gibbets of innards. Landing hard he rolled and, noticing a yellow-armoured perimeter around the Titan's head, ran up the length of the Heirophant's destroyed body dragging the talon and opening the torso like a zipper.

Sergeant Dickface was screaming obscenities and battering the Heirophant's head into a bloody mess with its own oversized (but rapidly getting smaller and smaller as it splintered) spine. Ten joined him with boot and fist until the last shudder had faded and the enormous biomachine was finally still.

They regarded each other with blood-shot eyes, helmets discarded onto the filth around them, both bearing a closer resemblance to a half-cooked stew than Space Marines of the Imperium of Man.

"WHERE'S YOUR FUCKING PEASHOOTER YOU FAGGOT?!?" Dickface yelled.

"THE BLOODY PIECE OF SHIT GOT IN MY WAY SO I THREW IT AT THE CUNT'S FACE!!" replied the Primaris. "WAIT... WHAT IS THAT SHIT?!?" He bent down and reached into an unidentifiable mass of bloody muscle. Dickface watched as the marine's arm went in up to the elbow, freshly coating it in slick blood. When it emerged there was no bolt rifle, but a circle made of forefinger and thumb.

The Primaris slammed his forehead into Dickface's face, sending the sergeant flying backwards and sprawling on the ground. Dickface lay there shaking with raging, flipping him the bird and screaming obscenities.

"WELCOME TO THE FUCKING ANGRY MARINES, SHITHEAD!!!"

+++++++ 

Thought for the day: The burden of failure is the most terrible punishment of all.

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==Master of the Armoury, Enginseer Mightilypissedoff the third==

The latest addition to the Angry Marines command structure/brawl which makes decisions based on who’s left standing, Mightilypissedoff the third represents a step forward for the chapter as he is actually TRAINED for his job, as opposed to everyone else who simply out survived or out punched their competitors. Starting life as a boy by the name of Yarrick Smith the third from a family of comfortable standing in one of the many hive cities on Armageddon. Yarrick’s families standing (Yarrick being an incredibly popular name on Armageddon being “da greatest humie eva!”) and Armageddon’s large levels of industry and mechanisation gave Yarrick the resources to pursue his hobby of engineering, with his father commissioning a shed to be built for him, which he filled to the brim with broken machines (broken servitors, vacuum cleaners, one of Vance Motherfucking Stubbs lost Baneblades, just general stuff). Yarrick even showed so much promise that he was head hunted by the Adeptus Mechanicus who started teaching him about the ways of the omnisiah (with the aim of eventually initiating him into the mechanicus), teachings which Yarrick excelled at to the point that he would be commissioned to repair complicated machinery.

This happy existence continued for several years, right up until he reached the ripe old age of 11, when his hive was given a visit, by the Angry Marines who had gotten bored and had decided that they wanted a vacation killing orks (something which Armageddon has absolutely no shortage of). While other chapters might coordinate their arrival with the local planetary governor (or in thus case, commissar Yarrick) and bring their Marines down to the planet in an organised manner, the Angry Marines are far too impatient for such nonsense and just fired themselves down in drop pods and rhinos randomly towards the planet. One such Angry Rhino was fated however, to impact with the workshop/shed of Yarrick Smith while Yarrick was inside said shed. The resulting explosion blew Yarrick free of the wreckage and left him only with minor burns, but managed to destroy his family home (along with his family) and (more importantly) his workshop filled with his tools of the omnisiah.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!” Someone shouted from the wreckage “I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO AIM FOR THE FUCKING JUNGLE YOU PRICK, HOW CAN YOU MISS A CUNTING CONTINENT SIZED JUNGLE?!!!” This was followed by the sound of someone being hit over the head by a very large wrench (Yarrick was very good at recognising these things). “NEXT TIME YOU CAN FUCKING DRIVE YOU OMNISIAH CUNT, YOU TRY AIMING ONE OF THESE THINGS!!!” Shouted another, which was followed by a deep growl which Yarrick recognised as the whisperings of a machine spirit, the angriest he’d ever heard. After a few more moments the roar of an engine started and a red and yellow rhino slowly dragged itself from the wreckage, mounted by two Angry Marines fighting each other. Thankfully for histories sake, the driver of the rhino stopped his vehicle before it turned the shocked Yarrick into paste, a stop which dislodged the two fighting Marines off the tank to land at his feet, upon which they stopped fighting, stood up and glared at Yarrick as if this was all his fault. “OI KID!!!” Bellowed the one with the huge wrench “WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING LOOKING AT? HAVE YOU NEVER SEEK A FUCKING ANGRY MARINE BEFORE?!!!” This broke Yarrick out of his trance, what was the marine doing shouting at him? This man had just destroyed his shed, destroyed his life’s work, his gifts from the omnisiah, and he had the balls to swear and curse at HIM. All of a sudden, Yarrick was filled with a righteous fury and before he knew it he was pelting the marine with scattered wrenches and chunks of metal while screaming a stream of profanity which just melted into one long cry of “FFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!”

After the two marines finally managed to pin Yarrick to the ground (after he had managed to dismantle a large chunk of their power armour) with some help from the ten other marines inside the rhino, it’s driver and the rhino itself, the first marine (which Yarrick later learned to be an Angry Tech Priest) asked “WHAT’S YOUR NAME YOU FUCKING ANKLE BITER?!!! DAMN I THINK HE BROKE MY FUCKING ARM!!!” After a bit more swearing Yarrick responded “Yarrick Smith the third YOU FUCKING CUNT LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY FUCKING SHED YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!” “NOT ANOTHER FUCKING YARRICK!!!” Bellowed the tech priest “YOU LOOK MORE MIGHTILYPISSEDOFF TO ME!!!” Which drew a round of laughter (if somewhat pained due to the assorted collection of broken bones). “YOU ARE NOW MIGHTILY PISSED OFF THE THIRD YOU PRICK, AND YOUR FUCKING COMING WITH US!!!”

And thus, Yarrick Smith became Mightilypissedoff the third, and after being dragged kicking and screaming off Armageddon passed through all the Angry Marines rites and became an Angry Tech priest, powering himself along with his eternal loathing for his kidnappers/adopted family. Life after that was fairly quiet for pissed off for the next millennia or so, spending most of his time taming the Angry Marines more violent vehicles (something which he had an innate talent for) and fighting in the few hundred conflicts the chapter finds itself in at any given time. His chance to seek revenge against the Angry Marines, when the Master of the Armoury Enfurious Ragman announced that “WE’LL BE HAVING A FUCKING “CULTURAL EXCHANGE” WITH THE FUCKING TOASTER SHAGGERS, AND I NEED ONE OF YOU PRICKS TO GO TO FUCKING MARS!!!” Luckily and entirely coincidentally, all the other Angry Tech Priests were simultaneously hospitalised due to “BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE BALLS WITH A FUCKING WRENCH!!!” And thus, Mightilypissedoff was the only person available to go to Mars.

Upon arriving on Mars, Mightilypissedoff was treated like a lost son who had finally returned to the fold, and for another happy millennia or so he was taught everything he did not yet now about the ways of the omnisiah, slowly (fast by mechanicium standards as his competitors would be found dead due to “BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE BALLS!!!” making his way up through the ranks until finally becoming the head of a titan manufactorum and earning the title of enginseer. It was however, realised by the council of mars that pissedoff was too Angry a person to truest become one of their own, despite his immense skill, a flaw which they blamed on the Angry Marines, a crime which they added to the chapters very long list of offences. But the mechanicium could not just simply get rid of pissedoff, it was not his fault he was corrupted and he was still equally talented if not more so than mar’s greatest priests.

The chance for revenge came with the new of the death of the Angry Marines Master of the Armoury, creating an opening in their command structure. This was a golden opportunity for the mechanicium, an opportunity which Mightilypissedoff the third was perfectly placed to exploit, being both an Angry Marine and a child of the omnisiah, and so he was brought before the council of mars who explained their plans to him, to which pissed off replied “WHERE DO I FUCKING SIGN?!!!”

So after a millennia or so away, Mightilypissedoff the third returned to the Angry Marines with a single task, either bring the chapter to heel, or destroy them, but how could they be sure that Mightilypissedoff would get the job? Because he's angrier than even the rank and file Angry Marine (let alone an Angry Tech Priest), a being who utterly despises the Angry Marines for what they have done so much, that the Angry Marines would take one look at him now and say "CALM YOUR BALLS YOU WALKING TOASTER, YOU CAN HAVE THE FUCKING JOB!!! IT'S NOT AS IF ANY OF US CUNT WEASELS WANTED IT ANYWAY!!!" And just like that, Mightilypissedoff was the Master of the Armoury. But as pissedoff took up his new role he started to wonder whether he had been truly happy/ANGRY on mars, there you had to pray for 20 minutes just to open a vent on an air con unit, and had he really hated and despised the Angry Marines to the point that he wanted to destroy them, he’d had more freedom and fights with the Angry Marines than he could have had over the course of hundreds of millennia with the mechanicium.

And so, instead of destroying the Angry Marines, Master of the Armoury Mightilypissedoff the third embraces/head locked them, and has been happy/ANGRY EVER SINCE. He now spends most of his time on the battlefield "FUCKING SMASHING ANY CUNT WHO OFFENDS THE OMNISIAH!!! THAT COCKSUCKING LEMAN RUSS JUST LOOKED AT ME FUNNY, YOUR NEXT DIPSHIT, FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!", so much time in fact that the Angry Tech priests are wondering if they should promote one of their own to the rank of Master of the Armoury (those who suggest that die mysteriously from BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE BALLS VIA A HUGE FUCKOFF WRENCH SMASHING THEM OVER AND OVER AGAIN!!!) Mars is somewhat surprised by the turn of events, and are so exasperated that the Angry Marines heretical actions are to be officially ignored until they do something really stupid, like filling a titan full of honey badgers and blowing it up for shits and giggles.

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==The relics of the Angry Marines==

'''the looted, looted, looted, Pretty Marines "WARGH MOTHERFUCKER!!!" Banner.'''

A banner which was once owned by the pretty marines, at the time called the "Notice Me Senpai" banner, it provided space warping properties of the same manner used by deamonettes to hide their crab claws, granting all pretty marines around it incredible beauty and two-inch-thick plot armour, as it effectively made all pretty marines within its range main characters in an anime, so how could they die. Unfortunately (for the pretty marines at least) the orks don't give a shit about anyone else's plot armour apart from their own (and yarricks, da greatist an orkiest humie eva!) and proceeded to brutalise the pretty marines with their long, hard shafts/choppas, and took the banner for themselves.

The banner was used for quite some time by ork commandos, who used its powers to make them look absolutely fabulous (or at least good looking enough to a guardsman who hasn't had sexual contact with another human for months) and thereby sneak up on enemy positions. Those they snuck up on could still see the orks, but would be too busy having awkward boners etc to notice, boners which they would die with as the commandos chopped them to pieces. Over time however, the banner began to lose its strength, being replaced more and more by wargh energies, and although it still provided a healthy glow to the orks (5/10 while drunk), it was no longer enough to hypnotise the enemy, resulting in the commandos being curpstomped by a squad of storm troopers, and the banner was then taken by the inquisition.

Thankfully, the inquisitor in possession of the banner was well travelled and cunning enough to know that xenos tech should not be dismissed out of hand (do the, how do you say it? Funky monkey) and so started experimenting on the banner, to find out how it could be both orky and pretty at the same time. However, the inquisitor made a grave mistake of being within one hundred light years of the Angry Marines during the two years of the completion of the Codex Angry Marines, and thus became one of the many inquisitors who "WAS BEATEN OVER THE FUCKING HEAD BY THE LITERAL FUCKING BOOK!!!" And thus, finally, the banner fell into the hands of the Angry Marines, who used it (during their two year "book tour") for their own amusement, as anyone within its range would start talking orky (DIS FUKIN BANNER IZ DA FLASHIEZT!!! WE SHODA KRUMPED DAT INQUISTOR GIT FOR IT BLOODY AGES AGO LADZ!!!).

Over time however, like every other piece of influence before it, the orky powers around the banner started to diminish, to be replaced by "RAGE MOTHERFUCKER!!!" to the point that the Angry Marines started carrying their "FUCKIN FLASHY BANNER!!!" into battle, to great effect, as it carried Pretty, Wargh and Angry energies within it, making everyone around it "DA ANGRIEST, DA ORKIEST AND DA PRETTIEST SONS O FUCKIN BITCHES IN DA FUCKIN GALAXY!!!! WARGH MOTHER FUCKERS!!!"

'''The Codex Angry Marines'''

While most codices were written or printed by hand or machine, the codex angry marines, was forged (although it wouldn't be surprising if the codices of the iron hands or the salamanders are forged as well). Made from a slap of steel adamantium alloy which had been pissed on for seven days and seven nights and the pages and spine were carved from the block by a team of Angry Marine Mindfuckers, using nothing but profanity, and the occasional bolter round. The crude simulacrum of a book was then brought before the Angry Marine chapter master, Temperus Maximus, for he had been ordered by the inquisition, the adeptus ministorium and terra, the high lords and, worst of all, the ultramarines, to make the Angry Marines codex compliant.

Maximus admired the slab of metal before him, it would be would be a fitting vessel for his rules to his battle brothers, and a giant middle finger to everyone else, as they never said whose codex the Angry Marines had to abide by. Flicking/snapping open the book with a quick curse which could still be heard in the cargo bays the chapter master glared at the metal page, melting words into it through sheer, undiluted contempt, drops of alloy dripping from the book to sizzle on the floor. Finally, his work done, Maximus leashed in his rage and closed the book, pausing only to read the rapidly cooling words, which said;

"JUST HIT THE FUCKERS!!!"

Opening the doors to his chambers carrying the book, Maximus found a riot (one of the technical terms for a gathering of Angry Marines, another being an arse kicking) of silent Angry Marines outside. "SO WHAT DOES IT SAY?!!!" Shouted one with unaccustomed politeness and reverence, while the others waited for the chapter masters response. There was the pause as Maximus considered, only to get angry with himself for needing to pause, he raised the book high above his head, and brought it crashing down on the questioning marines armoured brow, sending him crashing through five floors to land in a wrathful heap. Then, fixing those amassed before him with a steely gaze which left a few temporarily blind, Temperus Maximus gave his response, in a bellow which could be heard back on terra, "YOU CUNTS SHOULD ALREADY KNOW WHATS WRITTEN IN THE FUCKING BOOK YOU COCKSUCKING, WEABOO, DEAMON FONDLING FAGGOTS!!!". The assembled marines didn't hesitate in their response, even the marine who had been smashed through the floor

"ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME!!! ALWAYS ANGRY ALL THE MOTHER FUCKING TIME!!! SUCK ON IT YOU ULTRAMARINE BASTARDS!!! FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!"

The resulting fight lasted several years and resulted in a death toll in the billions, but the Angry Marines didn't care, and they carried the codex Angry Marines with them every cockshot of the way, as a reminder that they didn't need some ultrasmurf faggot to tell them who they are and what to do, but mostly to "BEAT SOME FUCKING INQUISITORS WITH THE LITERAL FUCKING BOOK!!!" It has gotten to the point that the book itself hurls insults at the enemy, and the odd bolter shell, and maybe the odd lightning bolt, but that sort of thing stops once you apply a fresh purity seal.

There is a worry however that, as the book contains at least twenty blank pages, that the book may write in itself, an idea which has everyone, except the Angry Marines, absolutely shitting their collective pants. What might a book given semi sentience by an entire chapter’s rage write in itself? The main theory is that the book will write some brand-new curses (and by that, curses unknown to the Angry Marines, the galactic guardians of the offensive word), curses which will probably be specifically insulting to ultramarines, or perhaps the 40k universes equivalent of the word Belgium. Either way, any new words must remain unknown to the universe at large to prevent galactic level recreations of the "Raiders of the lost ark" final scene, thankfully though, the book is protected/owned by the FUCKING ANGRY MARINES, meaning that a force the size of every black crusade combined would be needed to rest it from their adamantium grip.

'''The Head of Ward'''

A relic from before the unification wars, the shrunken head of the fifth (sixth) chaos god. The head sits impaled on a wooden stick and has a large cock and balls drawn on its forehead in permanent marker, from the remains of the heads neck droops a thick clump of fur, described by ancient texted as the "Crown of the neckbeards", which is said to have been awarded to the fifth/sixth chaos god for fucking over an ancient table top game. The head has been in the possession of a number of different parties such as (but not limited to) the ultramarines (who built a shrine to it and masturbated to it), nurgle (as even he found it vile to gaze upon), the eldar (who used its space and time warping aura to be complete dicks) and the pretty marines (who put makeup on it). The last owner was slaanesh (who used it as a fleshlight) until it was swept up by the currents of the warp into the battle barge litany of litany’s litany, where the Angry Marines attempted to destroy it, only to find it indestructible.

Ever since that day the Angry Marines have been trying to get rid of the disgusting head, but even something as terrifying as Matt Wards head, still has its uses, mostly by warping space and time around those chapters and species he had once fucked over.

Disconcerting, the head also whispers heretical ideas in the dark of night, despite how much constructive criticism/rage the Angry Marines throw at it, things like "the Ultramarines are the only true space marines" and "why don't you guys team up with the necrons" or, worst of all "the baby carriers weren't a bad idea, it's not me who designed the fucking things". The whispers can be heard in a hundred-mile radius (even in the vacuum of space) and resulted in many sleepless nights (WHO FUCKING NEEDS SLEEP!!!) for the nearby Angry Marines until someone came up with the bright idea of keeping the head next to the Codex Angry marines, an arrangement which results in the head crying softly, and while this crying can still be heard a hundred miles around, the moans of one of the imperiums greatest foes is a lullaby to everyone's ears.

'''The combi-combi flamer'''

Before he died, Master of the Armory Enfurus Ragman (MAY HE KICK BALLS AND SCREAM FOR FUCKING ETERNITY!!!) had been working on improving the standard combi flamer, a weapon much admired/used excessively while screaming at the enemy, due to the large amounts of Dakka it could produce. Ragman desired to increased said amounts of Dakka (and maybe while he was at it add some blades or big steel rods to make it choppy as well), but was struggling to do so (like many who had come before him before they were killed by the mechanicus for crimes against the omnisiah).

It was on a normal, rage filled night, Ragman was in the armoury holding a combi flamer and a roll of duct tape. He looked at the flamer, and then to the duct tape, then to the flamer, then back again, and that, is when genius struck. He took the flamer, and wrapped it in several rolls of duct tape and fired it at the nearest object (a servitor as it happens). The gun (although it was now definitely a better gun because it was covered in duct tape) was no more dakkery than before (even if it had annihilated the servitor), and so Ragman went on a "MOTHERFUCKING, AND TOTALLY JUSTIFIED RAMAGE!!!" Through the armoury. Later he realised he folly, and this time duct taped two combi flamers together, and thus, the Combi-Combi Flamer was born.

Unfortunately, Ragman died before achieving the ultimate goal of making the flamer also choppy (duct taping a chainsword to it) or before he could make more combi-combi flamers, otherwise the Angry Marines would have eradicated all heresy a long time ago.

'''The Doom Guy gun'''

A "gift" (left behind) weapon given to the Angry Marines by the honorary Angry Marine, Doom Guy, when he appeared on the battle barge maximum fuck while it was passing through the warp. The gun (after being analysed by angry tech priests) was found to have the highest density of Dakka per kilogram, but it only worked when the wielder was moving at top speed, and it fired even faster when firing at daemons.

The Doom Guy gun was once brought to battle against the orks, who, upon seeing the gun and recognising its power, immediately surrendered to the Angry Marines (producing a level of confusion in the Angry Marines which created such a strong backlash of confusion in the warp that it prevented tzeench from pulling off a "Just as planned" large enough from destroying terra). When asked afterwards why they had surrender, the ork war boss replied "So much Dakka. What can one do against such flashy bitz." [[Blood Ravens|Of course, the Angry Marines now have to keep it locked up to protect it from certain Red and Black Kleptomaniacs...]]

'''The Storm Shield Surfboard'''

The anger child between a squad of Angry Terminators and an Angry Tech Priest, while the Angry Marines were fighting deamons of Slannesh on an ice world. At the best of times terminators are slow and purposeful, put them on a planet which is covered in a metre and a half of snow, and they might as well make them stationary. Angry Terminators are not calm beings at the best of times, but dump them in a snow drift and have deamonettes dance around and taunt them, then you get to exploding levels of RAGE (many battle brothers were lost to such deviant tactics, MAY THEY KICK BALLS AND RAGE FOR FUCKING ETERNITY"). Such rage would also have a dramatic effect on the terminator armour, as marines would claw their way out in the nude to "FUCKING FIST THOSE DEAMONETTE SLUTS!!! HOW DO YOU LIKE BEING FUCKED BY A CHAINSWORD!!!" (Ow do it harder your making me so god damn horny BLAM). Terminator armour is rare at the best of times, even more so in a chapter which uses them to walk into lascannon fire for "SHITS AND GIGGLES MOTHERFUCKER!!!", and such damage makes the Angry Tech Priests so angry that they can be used to melt glaciers.

[[File:Storm Shield Surfboard.png|thumb|right|'' Call us today and you can get the first three seasons of Scooby Doo included free of charge! '']]

So an "alliance" was formed based on the desire to a. Get to the enemy faster and b. To not ruin terminator armour while doing so, between a five man terminator squad, and the tech priest Jordy Motherfucker, who was originally from the water covered agri world of Spectoris. After much arguing and fighting (the equivilent of a polite hello followed by tea and biscuits for the Angry Marines) Jordy suggested the use of one of the terminators storm shields as a sled to slide over the ice slopes, in imitation of a water based pastime from his home world. "But how do we make it travel uphill or over long distances?" Pondered Motherfucker out loud (being an Angry Techpriest, Jordy only spoke in lower case most of the time). "PUT SOME FUCKING ROCKETS OR MELTAS ON THE FUCKING BACK YOU IDIOT!!! YOUR SUPPOSED TO BE THE FUCKING CLEVER ONE AROUND HERE!!!" Replied one of the Angry Terminators, who proceeded to take his storm shield and hammer some rockets onto the back of his power hammer. Then, taking a run up, said terminator jumped onto his storm shield and powered up the rockets.

When they found the terminator ten miles away (by following the trail of decapiated, mutilated and fisted deamonettes) at the bottom up an icy hole all he would say was "I'M FUCKING DOING THAT AGAIN!!!" as he kept trying to remount his now drained storm shield. Since then, the Storm Shield Surfboard has been fitted with improved fuel tanks, more reliable/non-exploding rockets, an Angry levitation system (borrowed) from the Angry Repulsor tank, a front edge force field for added decapitation, cup holders and a tv which plays constant runs of an old earth show called "Scooby Doo", a show which is believed to be the very same "FUCKING QUALITY CARTOONS!!!" That Reclusiarch Mofo has been watching for all this time. Nobody has yet been able to create more Storm Shield Surfboards, as the board is more owned by a single marine who refuses to let anyone else use/play with it, meaning that for someone else to use it, say a tech priest, he will either have to wait for the current "owner" to die, become incapacitated in some way, or have the board confiscated by a mob of Angry Tech Priests or a high ranking chapter member.

'''Roll of Emergency Purity Seals'''

One of the roles of a chief Reclusiarch is to ensure that the chapter remains full of nice, good, emperor bothering space marines, and not spikey, tentacle creatures wearing power armour. Chief Reclusiarch Mofo doesn't really give a shit as "ANY PUSSY WHO WOULD JOIN CHAOS IS A WORLD EATER WANNABE!!! NOT A FUCKING ANGRY MARINE!!! NOW PISS OFF IM WATCHING SOME FUCKING QUALITY CARTOONS!!!"

However, despite the fact that Angry Marines are as likely to fall to chaos as a grot is likely to defeat a dreadnaught, the Chief Reclusiarch services are still required, mostly in the blessing of random shit the marines have found to make sure that the inquisitors don't get any exterminartus based ideas. Even this minor task is too much for Mofo's non-existent patience, so he took a roll of standard, two ply imperial toilet paper, screamed at it "YOU ARE BLESSED YOU INANEMATE PIECE OF SHIT!!!" And drew a small angry face on the first sheet.

This roll of emergency purity seals/blessed bog roll was then slammed into the face of the first Angry Marine demanding his bolter or power wrench to be blessed and followed by a bellow which was felt by a nearby battle barge "BLESS IT YOURSELF YOU CUNT WEASEL!!!" Despite the rolls unassuming appearance, it does provide significant protection to anything a sheet is slapped onto, in fact, each sheet shouts "YOU HAVE BEEN BLESSED, NOW STOP FUCKING MOANING!!!" After being used, but what's most remarkable is that the roll hasn't run out, being destroyed after many millennia of use and still has the same angry face on the first sheet.

In the direst of situations it can even be used to wipe your arse, and marines who have done so say that "MY SHIT HOLE HAS NEVER FELT SO CLEAN!!! IT WAS LIKE WIPING MY ARSE WITH A FIELD FULL OF BUNNIES!!!" Mofo refuses to create more rolls for chapter wide, even imperium wide, use, arguing that (after he had shoved fagbasher up the arse of the inquisitor stupid enough to ask) "ANY CUNT WHO NEEDS EXTRA PROTECTION FROM CHAOS IS A FUCKING TYRANID LOVING WHORE!!! NOW PISS OFF, IM STILL FUCKING WATCHING SOME QUALITY CARTOONS!!!"

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==A Literal Shit Storm==
Note, this story is a work in progress and thus the title and story elements will change over time, you have been warned. I have moved this from the discussions page so that a. I can work on this story from my phone, not just my computer and b. to free up space in the discussions page for other stories people might want to post and discuss.

{{MattWard}}

Chapter 1

It was not originally realised what the greatest impact the Fiery Aggressors would have on the Angry Marines would be, if you’d asked the average Angry Marine (assuming he didn’t pick a fight with you, correction, after he had picked a fight with you) he would have said “THEY’D FUCKING SET STUFF ON FIRE!!! WHAT KIND OF RETARDED QUESTION WAS THAT?!!!” And this is actually correct, their greatest impact on the chapter was to set stuff on fire, more specifically, setting stuff on fire using flamethrowers utilising promethium with ground up copies of the Codex Astartes mixed in, this didn’t make the flamethrowers any more burny, but it did make them far more awesome.

The only downside to this was that the Fiery Aggressors would get through a lot of copies of the codex Astartes, and as much as the Angry Marines despise the “FAGGOTY, GIRLYMAN FAP FICTION!!!”, it is still used by the chapter as toilet paper, resulting in a conflict of supply and demand on a galactic scale, as the Angry Marines attempted to gather more copies of the Codex Astartes to wipe their increasingly filthy arseholes, only for the Fiery Aggressors to steal those copies and more. Things became so desperate that the Angry Marine’s Chapter Master, Temperus Maximus, recalled all the Angry Marines command structure to one place to discuss/argue the crisis which was threatening the very existence (or at least hygiene) of the chapter, as the chapters astropaths could sense the attention of Nurgle being directed towards them.

“FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKK!!!” shouted the Chapter Master to bring the assembled marines before him to silence (or at least they were only swearing under their breath out of habit). He had chosen to hold the meeting in his private quarters aboard the battle barge Maximum Fuck, and around the large, circular table covered with pizzas and skittles he had had constructed for this very purpose sat the galaxies angriest beings. Directly opposite him sat Commissar Fuklaw who was glaring at a single point on the table which had started to smoke and give off squeals of “please, I have a family, be merciful”, while around him sat and huddled a contingent of other commissars, their trigger fingers twitching in anticipation of the first sign of HERESEY!!! A few seats down sat the Chief Mindfucker, Moarfistin, who was looking even more pissed than usual having been called back from his crusade into Tau space, flanked on either side by his two seconds in command, Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt who were currently staring down Captain Satchel, who as usual paid them no heed, he’d faced far worse than those cunts. Noticeably absent from the meeting were the Master of the Armoury, Enginseer Mightilypissedoff the third (who being mostly mechanical required no need to shit, except on special occasions, say to take a massive dump on an ultramarine) and Chief Reclusiarch Mofo (who was still locked in his quarters watching cartoons, and had access to the roll of emergency purity seals, and as such had no shortage of toilet paper).

“NOW THAT YOU’VE STOPPED FUCKING ABOUT WE CAN GET TO THE CUNTING PROBLEM!!!” started the Chapter Master, “THANKS TO THE FLAME THROWER CUNTS WE’RE ALMOST OUT OF BOG ROLL TO SCRUB OUR ARSEHOLES FUCKING CLEAN!!! NURGLINGS HAVE BEEN SPOTTED FOLLOWING THE MORE SHIT SMEARED MARINES, WE NEED FUCKING BOG ROLL AND FUCKING FAST!!!” At the mention of Nurglings, Moarfistin let off several psychic bolts of pure fury which melted part of a nearby wall to slag. “HERESEY!!!” bellowed the group of commissars who had levelled their bolt pistols at the Chief Mindfucker out of sheer muscle memory. After a quick break to disarm the commissars and repair the wall the meeting continued with an Angry Veteran asking “LET’S JUST FUCKING USE MOFO’S PURITY SEALS!!! THAT SHITS SOFTER THAN UNICORN FUR THREADED WITH THE FINEST FUCKING SILK, AND IT NEVER FUCKING RUNS OUT!!!” There was a chorus of swearing in agreement at this until it was pointed out by ones of the Apothecaries present that “YOU CAN FUCKING TRY!!! BUT I’M NOT GOING TO BE THE ONE TO REMOVE FAGBASHER FROM YOUR BOI CUNT WHEN MOFO FUCKING CATACHES YOU!!!” There was a moment of silence as everyone present remembered what had happened to the last Marine who had been desperate enough to try and steal and use the roll of emergency purity seals from Mofo, it was the first time a lot of the marine’s present had ever heard a fellow Angry Marine beg for mercy.

“WE COULD JUST USE NORMAL FUCKING BOG ROLL!!!” chipped in a lieutenant to break the silence, who was then immediately beaten to the ground by the marines surrounding him and dragged, kicking and swearing, from the room. “NOW THAT WE’VE GOT THE STUPID FUCKING QUESTIONS OUT OF THE WAY!!!” shouted the Chapter Master “DO ANY OF YOU CUNTS ACTUALLY HAVE A FUCKING GOOD IDEA?!!!” “LETS FUCKING INVADE MACRAG, THE ULTRACUNTS HAVE GOT PLENTY OF BOG ROLL!!!” shouted someone from the back, which got a cheer/war cry from all the Marines assembled who then charged to the door to prepare for a crusade against the ultramarines, not that they really needed an excuse to do so.

“GET THE FUCK BACK HERE YOU PUSSIES I DIDN’T GIVE YOUR SORRY CUNTS PERMISSION TO LEAVE!!!” screamed Maximus at the now motionless pile of marines stuck in the doorway. “AS FUCKING NICE AS IT WOULD BE TO TAKE A HOLIDAY TO THE ULTRA CUNTS!!!” continued Maximus, reaching under the table and grabbing something “WE’D END UP WITH THE INQUISITION SO FAR UP OUR FILTHY ARSEHOLES THAT WE’D BE ABLE TO HEAR THEM SHOUT HERESEY OUT OF OUR MOUTHES!!!” And at that he pulled the inquisitor that had been hiding underneath the table with a microphone out and gave the man such a withering stare that his hair began to grey and char at the ends before everyone’s eyes.

“AS INVADING OTHER CHAPTERS IS OUT OF THE FUCKING QUESTION!!!” shouted Fuklaw as the inquisitor was “politely” shown the way out of the room to the nearest airlock “WHAT FUCKING IDEAS DO YOU BASTARDS HAVE?!!!” The room erupted with swearing and fighting at this, as every single marine present tried to get his idea heard, throwing chairs, pizzas and other marines at each other. At some point Fuklaw lost his patience and began unleashing his withering gaze upon the room, which started to catch fire and melt, drops of metal landing on the fighting marines to eat away at power armour and just generally making them even more pissed off. At some point Maximus and the other heads of command finally lost their patience as well and joined in with the fighting, which actually helped, as at least half of the fighting marines were immediately knocked out as they e.g. Received a face full of Dick Haggard’s fists, or got catapulted into the ceiling after taking a swing from the back of Dylad.

“I think I have an idea,” said a strong, yet quiet voice. Immediately, the fight stopped as a wave of unease spread across all those assembled, their minds suddenly becoming calmer, as if someone had put a large pillow over each man present. In unison, the fight (the official collective noun for a group of Angry Marines) turned their heads towards the door to the Chapter Masters chambers, where there now stood a marine clad in the same armour as everyone else, except for an ancient rope adorned with the colours of the desert fangs, a Silencer Ancient. For a moment, no one spoke, the Angry Marines normal desire to swear and curse abated by the presence of such a large, and ancient psychic void. Even Fuklaw and Moarfistin’s rage abated somewhat as their otherwise uncalmable minds were also embraced by the cold void emanating from the incomprehensibly ancient figure before them. As one, the fight got itself up from the floor and stood (as much as an Angry Marine is capable of) respectfully towards the silencer, each marine holding his breath in anticipation.

Sighing a sigh which somehow managed to communicate what it was like putting up with Angry Marines, the Silencer continued. “We could ask the head of Ward; such an ancient and vile creature must know of where we can acquire enough copied of the codex Astartes. He did after all, influence its creation.” A ripple passed through the crowd at the suggestion. They all hated and feared the head of Ward, even the Silencers, who were normally untouched by the warp, could feel its vileness and plot defying aura. Dropping the three unconscious marines he had forgotten he had been head locking, maximus walked to the Silencer in the doorway, his head bowed in reverence and uncertainty, he never knew how to treat the Silencers, they were simultaneously his superiors, his subordinates, and his equals, he would have punched the man in the face just to break the ice, but his mind was still calm and incapable of its usual divisive fury.

The Silencer rolled his eyes behind his helmet, as he reached deep into his mind for his rage, a rage built up over millennia of fighting demons and babysitting the red and yellow fucks, and threw it at the chapter master in the only form of communication the Angry Marines seemed to understand. “STOP GROVELLING LIKE A FUCKING GROT!!! GET YOUR FIST OUT OF YOUR SHIT HOLE AND MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND YOU OVERSIZED MUSHROOM!!!” Instantly, all the eyes in the room were once again lit with fury again as they all straightened themselves up despite numerous broken bones and bruises and shouted their reply.

“ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!! FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!” And with a smile on his face honed over many centuries of bloodshed and swearing, the chapter master glared deep into the silencers eyes. “SO BE IT!!!” he shouted to those assembled, “INFORM THE TECH PRIESTS!!! TELL THEM TO PREPARE THE MAIN HANGAR, WE SHALL SPEAK TO THE FUCKING HEAD OF WARD!!!”

A few hours later and the battle barge maximum fucks main hangar had been cleared of ships to make a large space in which the chapter master, Reclusiarch Mofo (even he could not refuse being present for such an event), Moarfistin and Fuklaw now stood in a semi-circle. All other marines had been banished from attending this event, not that they would want to attend it, as even greater demons and machines do not suffer its presence willingly. “BRING IT IN!!!” shouted Mofo, who just wanted to go back to watching cartoons. The blast door at the far end of the cavernous room opened and three dreadnoughts strode through, the central one holding something draped with a thick, black cloth, while another carried a large chunk of metal, which seemed to weigh down the dreadnought far more than its size would suggest. Behind them followed a looming, mechanical figure covered in servo arms and measuring devices, two red eyes shining from its yellow and red robes, Master of the Armoury, Enginseer Mightilypissedoff the third. The event would have been awe and fear inspiring, if it hadn’t taken the mechanical procession two minutes to reach the centre of the chamber, with the master of the armoury scuttling along to try and keep up with the lumbering dreadnoughts, but finally, they reached the centre of the room, and set down the object wrapped in cloth.

“THIS HAD BETTER BE FUCKING WORTH IT!!!” complained Pissedoff, “WE LOST THREE TOASTER FUCKERS JUST GETTING THIS THING OUT OF THE FUCKING VAULT!!!” “YOU’LL FUCKING GET OVER IT!!!” countered Maximus as he stepped forward and tugged the black cloth away to reveal the dreaded Head of Ward. Immediately, the head began to whisper heretical thoughts, starting with “tseb eht era sthginkyerg” but almost as immediately the dreadnought carrying the slab of metal (which was the Codex Angry Marines) began the smash the book repeatedly into the head, which began to scream and wail. After several dozen or so strikes, the dreadnought stopped and slumped its shoulders in disappointment to see that the head was still whole, but at least it was no longer whispering vile heresy.

“SPEAK CUNTING CREATURE OF SHIT WRITING AND MARY FUCKING SUES!!!” started Fuklaw “FUCKING TELL US WHERE WE CAN FIND MORE COPIES OF THE CODEX ASTARTES, OR ELSE WE’LL GET TO FIND OUT WHICH OF THE TWO OF US WOULD WIN IN A FUCKING GLARING CONTEST!!!” (Fuklaw has yet to lose a staring contest, even Sly Marbo blinks under his gaze). “And why should I tell you?” replied the shrunken head, in a voice like sticky fingers being rubbed over a brand new codex “you will only lock me back up with the vile chunk of metal you call a codex, so go fu…” the head continued, only to be “interrupted” by Mofo as he began the beat the head over and over again with Fagbasher. “FUCKING (smack) TELL (crack) US (crash) WHERE (punch) WE CAN (deep throating action with Fagbasher) GET MORE (kick) SHIT PAPER!!!” Mofo bellowed, followed up by several more impacts just to drive the point home, leaving the head softly moaning on the floor, then strided over to the dreadnought carrying the codex angry marines, snatched the impossibly heavy book and hefted it over the now quivering skull.

“Alright!” screamed the head “I’ll tell you please just get that vile…” only to be interrupted as Mofo swung the Codex Angry Marines onto the head as Fuklaw instinctively shouted “HERSEY!!!” “TRY AGAIN YOU PRICK!!!” said Maximus “THIS TME WITH LESS FUCKING NECKBEARD HERETICAL SHIT!!!”. “There is a place,” whispered the head, “a shrine, built by the ultramarines, the Necrons, grey knights and Eldar for myself to sit in, they filled it with my greatest works and a giant portrait of my beautiful face from when I was still whole (KICK) OW!!! (whimpering) one of the many things they put there was crate after crate of the codex Astartes, they built the shrines foundations out of it, it is the centre of the word of ward and all that is goo… (repeated stomping my multiple people) (silence, whimper) there’s enough copies of the codex there for you for thousands of years now please just FUCK OFF!!!” There was a moment of silence as all those assembled considered this, or at least all except Moarfistin, who just stood there, steam pillowing from his ears and lighting trickling from his fingertips. “WHERE CAN WE FIND THIS MOST HERETICAL AND SHIT PLACE?!!!” Asked the Chapter Master, his tone mellowed somewhat by the thought of such a vile place even existing. “In a part of the web way which has been cut off, it is only accessible via a gate on the planet of…” pausing for dramatical effect “Solemnance!”

After a moments pause Pissedoff placed the Codex Angry Marines on top of the head (which began to squeal) as the large blast doors behind the assembled group opened, to reveal a Warhound titan, which began to stride towards the squealing head on the floor. Backing away to watch the show, the Angry Marine high command watched as the titan stood looming over the book and the head, raised one of its gigantic feet, and brought it crashing down with a force to powerful enough to crack open tanks, on top of the book/head sandwich. “IS IT FUCKING DEAD?!!!” shouted the assembled marines hopefully as the Master of the Armoury scuttled towards the impact point, only to start cursing and kicking the Warhound’s leg. The head was, unfortunately, was still alive. As the three dreadnoughts escorted the now violently swearing and sobbing Pissedoff from the room, the remaining marines turned towards Temperus Maximus, awaiting his decision.

“PACK YOUR SKITTLES AND YOUR FUCKING CHAINSWORDS!!!” shouted Maximus with a sinister grin on his face, “WE’RE GOING TO FUCKING SOLEMNANCE!!!”

Chapter 2

Behind the scenes however, the galaxy began to respond to the angry marine decision to go book hunting. Some, like the followers of Nurgle and Tzeentch had been planning for this for a long time, slowly guiding or anticipating the actions of the angry marines, while the mortal follows of the word of ward felt the reveal of the shrine of wards location as a psychic backlash, activating built in plot points and narrative arches which the fifth (sixth) chaos god had drilled into them. As the chapter master was making his proclamation of a grand, angry marine crusade to Solemnance, a death guard fleet was beginning to exit the warp into real space to surround the assembled angry marine fleet, led by the champion of Nurgle, bringer of Crotch Rot.

“Our sorcerers have homed in on the scent of their festering anuses my lord, when we exit the warp we shall be right on top of them.” Said Crotch Rot’s second in command and Tallyman, Counter of Infectious Blessings, to his master, “the Angry Marines will be learning of the shrines location as we speak and will be completely unprepared for a surprise attack, or at least as ill prepared for a fight as an Angry Marine can be.” Everything was going according to plan thought Crotch Rot, Grandpa Nurgle had seen fit to bless him with many mutations and gift him with his own flagship he had named “Free Hugs”, and now he was about to bring the blessings of Nurgle to the Angry Marines and prevent them from discovering the Shrine of Ward (shiver), ensuring that their anuses would putrefy for all eternity.

“My Lord,” Counter of Infectious Blessings interjected into Crotch Rot’s thoughts “what are we to do with the… Head of Ward, once we have hugged all of the Angry Marines into submission? Even the chaos spa… (cough) that which will not be named are becoming nervous at being so close to such a relic.” “I have been informed by the Great Unclean ones that Nurgle wishes to possess the head for himself to create even more gifts and blessings for the galaxy, the mild discomfort of it being aboard our ship will be repaid a thousand times over in the form of the love of our father.” Replied Crotch rot, who was very much looking forward to receiving a bed time story from Nurgle himself, and maybe some pet nurglings.

Counter of Infectious Blessings was about to say that he’d happily give up all of his pet nurglings if it meant that he didn’t have to be around the head for a prolonged period of time, when a sorcerer barged into the room. “My lord!” oozed and sputtered the mass of putrid flesh “we have just entered real space, but we have detected the presence of another fleet of ships also exiting the warp!” Crotch Rot and Counter of Infectious Blessings looked confusedly (or as confused as you can when your facial muscles have rotted away eons ago), they were not expecting anyone else, had papa Nurgle seen fit to provide reinforcements? “Who is it?” asked Crotch rot “is it more Angry Marines? We’ve got enough people to bless without more of them turning up.” “No, your infectiousness,” stammered the sorcerer, chunks of flesh flicking of his form in agitation “it’s far far worse its….”

“JUST AS PLANNED!!!” cackled the champion of Tzeentch, Trololololol “THE FOOLISH DISEASE WORSHIPPERS HAVE FALLEN INTO OUR TRAP, WE SHALL SWOOP IN A STEAL THE VILE HEAD OF WARD AND I SHALL BRING IT TO TZEENTCH HIMSELF AND ACHIEVE DEMON PRINCEHOOD, JUST AS PLANNED!!!” Behind him, stood and sighed quietly his second in command, sorceress Elzbeth the Mind Shaper, who had frankly grown tired of all her masters scheming and plans, or rather she hadn’t grown tired of his plans, his plans were some of the finest around and his followers followed him not purely out of the power he had been granted by Tzeentch (although that is certainly part of it), but because of the brilliance of his plans. However, his insanity had begun to show more and more as the centuries had ground on to the point that he would plan decades in advance the arrival of a cup of tea, screaming “JUST AS PLANNED!!!” when it was finally delivered after many years of manipulation, while neglecting to plan for major battles, merely stating that it was all “JUST AS PLANNED!!!” And she had been so ambitious in her youth, or rather her ambition had had a razor edge to it, now, after centuries of following an insane genius, her ambition had dulled, although it still had enough weight to club someone to death (Tzeentch followers are big on analogies).

“Are my troops ready Elzbeth? Don’t answer, I already now, they’re all assembled in their boarding torpedoes as I speak.” Said Trololololol, his hands moving their erratic spiders up and down his staff in excitement. Elzbeth smacked her palm into her face in exasperation. “You know that the troops are all assembled your allseeingness because you asked me that question two minutes and I told you the answer,” replied the exasperated sorceress, not even bothering to conceal her anger now, especially as she knew that all he was going to do was shout just as planned. “JUST AS PLANNED!!!” shouted Trololololol (“told you,” she thought) “give the signal for the assault to begin, the head of the fifth (sixth) chaos god shall be MINE!!!”

Chapter 3

The first thing the Angry Marines knew of the assault was when Moarfistin exploded into a scream of “FUCKING NURGLINGS!!!” which could be heard across the entire Angry Marine fleet (sound may not travel through a vacuum, but fury does), followed almost immediately by the detection of two separate fleets disgorging boarding torpedoes and unleashing barrages of void missiles and lance batteries at the angry marine battle barges. Immediately the battle barges began to return fire, with automated weapons and serf manned batteries firing upon the encroaching torpedoes, with those torpedoes that did meet their mark being greeted by a traditional angry marine welcome of Chainswords and kicks to the balls, but the combined pressure of two separate fleets backed up by demonic powers was clearly too much for the chapter, which now ran the risk of being annihilated.

In the winding corridors of the Maximum Fuck, a squad of serfs were desperately trying to hold the corridor leading the main hangar as they were advanced upon by space marines of Nurgle from one side and Tzeentch on the other, bolter fire, warp lightning and gushes of oozing pox felling any serf who out of cover (and even in cover). But the Angry Serfs would not retreat, partly because they were all Angry pricks, one of these angry pricks (or ovaries in this case) was Ching Shin, once a special weapons expert for the imperial guard until she one day saw some demons and was scheduled to be sterilised. Until the Angry Marines rescued her and recruited her as an Angry Serf, where she had let a very angry but happy life, until a bunch of Tzeentch and Nurgle worshippers had decided to be a bunch of cunts and attack her ship. As it stands, her situation is hopeless, thankfully for her at least, Temperus Maximus will appear behind the Tzeentch worshippers and shout “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!” in about a paragraphs time.

“Fuck these festering cunts!!!” shouted Ching to her commissar who was the last member of her squad left as she fired her plasma rifle down the corridor towards the cover camping Death Guard, although as angry as she was she was glad they were staying put, and knew that the only reason why they were staying put was because they didn’t want to charge into the corridor of Tzeentch worshippers behind her. “STOP YOUR FUCKING COMPLAINING AND JUST SHOOT THE CUNTS!!!” screamed the commissar, who was too far into HERESEY!!! Mode to care what she was saying and simply kept firing their bolt pistol towards the hiding Tzeentch marines, chunks of metal plating erupting from the walls as the bolt rounds missed their mark until finally, the commissars bolt pistol and Ching’s plasma rifle ran dry, and a veil fell over the corridor as their foes all smiled behind their helmets, and began to advance on their position.

Or at least, the Death Guard marines got five metres down their corridor before arches of lightning began to spike between them, putrid flesh boiling and melting away as the marines embraced their inevitable demise. And through the puddles of bubbling puss, faecal matter and fleeing Nurglings, strode the Chief Mindfucker, Moarfistin, warp energy curling around his right hand while his left hand held is fisting stick, with a chaos marine suitable impaled up the backside upon it. At the sight of one of the galaxies most feared and brutal psykers the Tzeentch worshippers tried to flee the way they came, lest their behinds be subjected to a fisting, only to run straight into the adamantium chest and Cheshire grin of Temperus Maximus, each fist enclosed around the crushed heads of two marines. “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!” bellowed the Chapter Master, as he began to rein down his fists into screaming faces and power feet into soon to be obliterated genitals. It only took a few seconds, but as Ching walked from her cover she walked through ankle deep blood mixed with chunks of flesh and power armour, and what did she say to her two saviors?

“Took you fucking long enough you bunch of lazy cunts! Where were you earlier? Licking each other’s’ arseholes while you platted your hair! For fucks sake, even the fucking commissars dead now as well, we’d have about fifty angry bastards left if it wasn’t for you brown nosing bastards!”

In most other chapters, this would have earned Ching a bolt round to the head, or perhaps Slow lobotomization into a servitor, but as she stared down one of the galaxies angriest beings and called him a cunt, the Chapter Master could only smile a grin so wide it showed all of his dirty brown teeth. “YOU!!!” he almost whispered at Ching “I THINK I MIGHT HAVE A FUCKING JOB FOR A CUNT AS ANGRY AS YOU!” Striding forward and grasping Ching by the scruff of her flak armour and lifting her into the air. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW, ABOUT THE HEAD OF WARD?!!!”

Five minutes later, Ching found herself running down a long corridor carrying a black bag over her shoulder holding the Head of Ward, while Moarfistin kept up beside her carrying the Codex Angry Marines, barely taxing his superhuman form to keep up with the now panting Ching, as they both made their way towards the Maximum Fucks second hangar. The orders the Chapter Master had given Ching had been very clear, take the fucking head, get off the ship, and make her way to Solemnance and either find the Shrine of Ward, or meet up with the rest of the Angry Marines along the way after they had dealt with the ambushing fleets, as without the worry of protecting (preventing other cunts from stealing it) the Head of Ward from enemy hands the Angry Marines were free to simply run rampant through the enemies ranks, and it would be only a matter of time before the forces of chaos started fighting each other. But firstly, Ching and Moarfistin had to find a way off the Maximum Fuck without getting shot/stabbed/turned into that which will not be named/hugged, and although Moarfistin was more than capable of annihilating anything before him his sheer rage and psychic outbursts made him visible to any psyker within a mile, and thus the two adventures had become prime targets for anyone lacking a target to shoot at.

“Why the fuck did you have to come along you pansy cunt?!” Ching shouted as she kicked Moarfistin in the shins hard enough to be felt through power armour “your fucking attracting every cunt nearby wanting to make their points cost back and you keep stopping to stamp on Nurglings!” “FUCKING NURGLINGS!!!” Moarfistin simply screamed in response as he stamped on yet another fleeing ball of adorableness and heresy but otherwise didn’t bother to respond to the “INSOLENT BITCHES” insults, he had been ordered by the Chapter Master to a. ensure that the serf fucker completed her job and b. hit the Head of Ward with the Codex Angry Marines whenever it wouldn’t shut up. He still wasn’t happy about it (he was furious about it, which also pleased him) but as long as he was able to purge all traces of Nurgle he found then he would do his job and only complain slightly more than usual. “You stink like a Death Guard toilet now as well, you fucking idiot! Emperor fucking save me the smells getting even shittier!” Gagged Ching as a wave of nausea overtook her, she tried clinging Moarfistin’s side to balance herself only to be hit by a fit of stomach cramps and vomiting which forced her to her knees, one hand clutching her stomach and the although desperately holding onto the Black sack which held the Head of Ward. “GET UP YOU FUCKY PUSSY!!!” Ordered Moarfistin as he took up a stance in the centre of the corridor “WE’VE GOT MORE SHIT FOR EVERYTHINGS INCOMING!!!” Ching managed to raise her head enough, vomit still dribbling down her chin, to gaze, eyes watering, towards where Moarfistin was facing and the source of the ever-encroaching stench.

Advancing towards them from where they had come, strode (and oozed) the Champion of Nurgle, Crotch Rot, flanked on one side by Counter of Infectious Blessings, a pen in hand as he wrote in a huge human leather volume which dripped puss and bile as if it too were alive. Behind them scampered, rolled and chittered a mass of tentacles and mouths which Ching knew enough about to not even name them in her mind. Things would have gone rapidly downhill from there for Ching (probably starting with her face melting off), as without power armour, a super human constitution and some heavy weapons, an Angry Serf’s (no matter how angry) no match for a champion of chaos. But before Crotch Rot could say anything along the lines of “who would like a hug?” Moarfistin, instead of firing bolts of lightning or Bolter rounds, rested the spine of the Codex Angry Marines against his chest, and opened it towards the advance pile of bile and happiness. Immediately the corridor erupted into a long and impossibly load scream of “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU....” which rattled the very skeleton of the ship, with chunks of metal plating being ripped from the walls to impale the advancing forces of Nurgle as chunks of rotten flesh were ripped from their forms, forcing the horde back the way they had come and forcing Moarfistin, despite his super human strength, to slide in the opposite direction, picking up speed as the longer books fury was unleashed. Almost as an afterthought, Moarfistin grabbed the still gagging and deafened Ching from the floor before she got out of reach, and as he slung her over his shoulder like a very ill rag doll, he fixed the somehow still standing Crotch Rot with a glare which communicated all of his disgust towards his very existence, stuck up his middle finger and screamed in a voice loud enough to be heard even over the books war cry “FUCK YOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUU....!!!” As he sped faster and faster down the corridor towards the second hangar.

As the books screams became quieter and the wind abated somewhat, Crotch Rot straightened himself up and surveyed the destruction around him as his tally man picked himself up, having lost his book and an arm in the carnage. “You know,” started Crotch Rot in a weird voice as his cheeks had been ripped from his face “something tells me that they didn’t want any hugs for some reason.” “Better luck next time my lord,” replied Counter of Infectious Blessing, in an optimistic voice even as his other arm fell off “maybe they had an important appointment to get to, and look on the bright side, now we have the chance to grow some new limbs.”

== A 'difficult' beginning ==

Battle-Brother Alfion of the Angry Marines Chapter was having one fucking shitty day. Because Battle-Brother Alfion had been part of the first batch of Primaris Marines sent - reluctantly - by Lord Commander Roboute Guilliman to the Angry Marines. The contingent had been small. For starters, there had not been many Desert Fangs Neophytes left at the end of the Heresy to be put in stasis by Archmagos Cawl until such time as he had perfected his modification of the Astartes creation process. Then there was the fact that Girly... Guilliman had been unwilling to reinforce a Chapter that so openly embodied what he viewed as the worst aspects of his tempestuous brother, Rachnus Rageus.

Battle-Brother Alfion had at first looked forward to the reunion with those other sons of his gene-father, and to share with them the ideas he had about how to mix their headstrong culture with the precepts of the Codex Astartes, taught to him after his awakening from stasis and modification, to better wield their fury against the ennemies of the Empra... Emperor. He had started to worry when he had learned the name of his distant Bothers' Chapter's name. He had understood as well as any member of the Desert Fangs Legion the need to erase the knowledge of the existence of their Legion, but surely they could have chosen a more dignified name? Then he had heard whispers among the crew of the ship ferrying his contingent to the Angry Marines Battle Barge, the Litany of Litany's Litany. The mortals were ''afraid'', deathly so. So much, in fact, that they were planning on shooting the Primaris Marines at the Battle Barge. '''Literally''' shooting them. From their cannons. Then run away.

Brother-Captain Medina had reassured them, reminding them that righteous fury was one of their greatest strengths and sources of pride, and that devoid of their other pride, the Silencers, their brothers had just given their rage a greater emphasis. The words of Brother-Captain Media, one of the very few experienced Desert Fangs Marines put in stasis at the end of the Heresy, inspired respect and faith among the men serving under him.

And ''then'' came the actual meeting with the Angry Marines. As Brother-Captain Medina approached the nearest red-and-yellow clad Battle-Brothers to hail them, after dusting off the fragments of the hull they had been shot through, he was met by a thunderous yell of "WHO THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU SPINELESS CUNTS SUPPOSED TO BE?!? MORE ULTRASMURFS FAGGOTS?!? IT'S FUCKING BAD ENOUGH GIRLYMAN IS BACK WITHOUT COCK-SUCKING FANBOYS FUCKING AROUND OUR BATTLE BARGE!!"

The contingent was stunned, to say the least, by this lack of respect. "What did you just say?" asked an incredulous Medina. "DO YOU HAVE SHIT IN YOUR EARS AS WELL AS IN YOUR BRAIN?!? I ASKED WHO YOU FUCKING FAGGOTS WERE!!" Medina regained enough of his composure to answer "We are the Primaris reinforcement sent from Mars by Lord Guilliman to strengh..." "SO YOU ARE GIRLYMAN'S COCKSUCKING SPECIAL SNOWFLAKES?!? AND YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO REINFORCE US?!? THAT'S THE BEST FUCKING JOKE SINCE THAT TIME WE PLAYED PUNCH THE CUNT WITH THE SHIT-EATING BLUEBERRIES WEEABOOS!!"

Things had only become worse from then. Alfion could not believe he was once ready to call those assholes brothers. They respected nothing but brute strength and loud yelling, litteraly shat on Guilliman's teachings, and made him and his brothers do all the menial jobs and things they didn't feel like doing. And now Medina was one of them, having snapped after one insult too many and decked the nearest cunt in his fucking face before going on a rampage in the shithole that was the Litany of Litany's Litany. When they came to, the fags had hailed him as Tantrumus Fuckingham, and he had since then stopped responding to "Medina".

Alfion wasn't sure why he hadn't done the same already. Maybe some lingering desire to improve this hellhole of a Chapter, a remnant of his new conditionning on Mars. He would give one last try at showing them how the Codex could be put to good use...

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Alfion tried to open his eyes but couldn't. He tried to shake his head but couldn't. He tried to get up but couldn't. He couldn't move. But somehow he could see. And what he saw was that fucker Mightilypissedoff III glaring at him. "WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO ME, YOU SAD EXCUSE FOR A TOASTER?" He paused. "WHY IS MY VOICE BOOMING? WHAT THE SHIT IS HAPPENING?" "THE SILENT ANGRY CUNTS SENT US THIS PILE OF SCREWS AS A GIFT. APPARENTLY, THEY'RE SO WEAK THE MACHINE SPIRIT WAS HAVING FUN KILLING EVERY FAGGOT THEY INTERED IN IT!!" answered Mightilypissedoff.

"INTERED? YOU MANIACS HAVE PUT ME IN A FUCKING DREADNOUGHT BECAUSE I SAID WE COULD USE THE CODEX ASTARTES FOR SOMETHING ELSE THAN WIPE YOUR STINKING ASSES?"

"I'M NOT SOME LAME DREADNOUGHT, FAGGOT, I'M A REDEMPTOR AND I'LL FUCK YOUR SHIT!!" answered a mechanical voice.

"WAIT... YOU PUT ME IN A WALKING COFFIN WHOSE MACHINE SPIRIT IS FUCKING INSANE?!"

"YOU WOULDN'T BE IN THERE IF YOU WEREN'T ALREADY A WEAK PIECE OF SHIT. I'M JUST FLUSHING!!" answered the Machine Spirit.

"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF RUST! I'LL KICK YOU IN YOUR NON-EXISTENT BALLS UNTIL YOU SCREAM FOR MERCY LIKE THE LITTLE BITCH YOU ARE!! I DIDN'T ASK TO BE PUT IN STASIS AND EXPERIMENTED ON BY CRAWLY MCGUFFINFACE!! I DIDN'T ASK TO BE SENT BY FUCKING GIRLYMAN TO YOU ANGSTY CUNTS!! I'LL WRECK ALL OF YOU SHITS ONCE I'M DONE WITH THIS FUCKING PIECE OF GARBAGE!!"

At this, the Redemptor starting hitting itself while violently shaking, as if someone was punching it from the inside. Mightilypissedoff could only make out bits of the yelling coming from inside: "-THINK YOU'RE TOUGH YOU FAGGOT?!? -I'LL SHOW YOU TOUGH YOU FUCKING TOASTER!!" Having had enough of this emo cockslaping contest, the Master of the Armory picked up his wrench and started beating this new Redemptor Belligerent Engine - the first of its kind - into sullen unconsciousness.

Thus started the story of Cunt Pounder, the first Redemptor Belligerent Engine of the Angry Marines.

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The feral world of Allanus was being set upon by a warband of the Black Legion. The locals, brave though they were, could not stand against the heretical Astartes. So when some keen-eyed warrior spotted a red and yellow vessel of the "Sky Angels", hope grew. But nothing happened. No righteous demi-gods descended from the heavens to help them. Until ''something'' fell from the sky in a trail of fire and impacted in the middle of the Chaos Marines. From the crater rose a yellow and red Redemptor Dreadnought of a strange pattern. Looking at their sole opponent, the Legionnaires laughed and opened fire. The dreadnought started shaking before suddenly yelling "ALL RIGHT, WHY ARE YOU PIECES OF SHIT INTERRUPTING ME WHEN I'M BUSY COCKSLAPING THIS FUCKING TOASTER TO DEATH?!?" before punching itself in the 'face'.

Recovering from their surprise at this outsburst, the traitors fired again at the Dreadnought. "THAT DOES IT!! I'LL TEAR YOU FUCKERS A NEW ASSHOLE TO TEACH YOU NOT TO INTERUPT ME WHEN I'M TRYING TO MURDERFUCK THIS CUNTSY BOLTPILE!!" yelled Cunt Pounder before charging the bemused Legionnaires and starting to punch their faces out and crotches in, in between violent blows to its own frame.

Aboard the Litany of Litany's Litany, the Angry Marines were relaxing, downing cold ones and eating skittles while watching Cunt Pounder punch his way though the warband and their pet demons. They stopped and spat out their beers/skittles when they saw him start punching his way though the planet in sheer '''RAGE'''. "- FUCK!! YOU THINK WE SHOULD STOP THIS ASSHOLE?!? - SCREW THAT, I'M NOT GETTING ANYWHERE NEAR HIM AND THAT CRAZY MACHINE OF HIS!!"

So they sat back and resumed drinking while Cunt Pounder punched his way through the mantle of the planet, then its core, then back through as the planet exploded.

"WELP, THAT WAS FUN WHILE IT FUCKING LASTED!! WAIT... WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT?!?" The sight of Cunt Pounder spiraling through the remains of Allanus, still punching itself and shaking with '''RAGE''', exploding the rocks in its way, was enough to make the Angry Marines bring him back on board the Litany of Litany's Litany, where he proceeded to punch them, yelling "NOW IT'S YOUR FUCKING TURN YOU PANSIES!!". Only a repeated application of power bats to its frame managed to put him back to 'sleep'. It was afterwards unanimously agreed to only deploy Cunt Pounder in the direst of emergencies. Or in proximity of Ultrasmurfs, to watch the ensuing hilarity.

==Three way clusterfuck==

In the 42nd millenium, there was only war. At least as far as the people living on Genericus III were concerned the world had fallen prey first to a wave of Chaos Cults uprisings amazingly well coordinated, and let by Space Marines clad all in blue and silver, with weird green-adorned pauldrons. The Loyalist forces were being pushed back by the sheer savagery and fanaticism of the damned slaves of the Ruinous Powers and the might of the Heretic Astartes when the situation took a turn for the worse: a pack of Blood Axes Kommandos made landfall on Genericus III. Nobody knew why the Greenskins had come. Maybe the battle had resonnated through their Waaaaaagh field, or maybe it had just been a coincidence. But there are no such things as coincidence in the grim and dark future of the 42nd Millenium…

[[File:Sergeant Asshole McCuntsface art.jpeg|thumb|left|'' THAT’S A FUCKING LOVELY HEAD YOU HAVE THERE!!! IT WOULD BE A CUNTING SHAME IF SOMEONE MURDER STABBED IT!!!'']]

The sudden arrival of the Orks had thrown the carefully laid plans of the Alpha Legion commander, Duns Scottus. Fuming at the loss of certain victory, he began to plan anew, including the new arrivals in his strategy of misdirection, backstabbing and infiltration (although that last one might prove difficult to achieve with Xenos, unless he painted some of his men green and implanted big fangs in their mouths…).
Meanwhile, Boss Bestasnik was having the time of his life. He and his boys had come to this planet of humies out of sheer boredom and had found it already teeming with fun. Apparently, some of the pointy beakies were busy sneakin’ around already, so he had decided to join in on the fun and show them how to sneak properly!

The locals of Genericus III, those loyal to the Imperium that had survived, could only hole up and defend what few strongholds they still held, all the while praying to the God-Emperor for help. Their prayers were answered when a yellow and red battle barge appeared over the war-torn planet. It broadcast a message saying ‘NOTHING TO SEE HERE!!! WE ARE DEFINITLY NOT THERE TO KICK SOME MOTHERFUCKING SNEAKY CUNTSY ASS !!!’ then shot down multiple drop pods that streaked towards the surface at a surprisingly (at least for those used to seeing such deployments) high speed.

From those emerged Astartes taller than those the natives had been used to seeing over the millenia, clad in power armor matching in color the battle barge, and whose helmets were fashioned after skulls. They started to march forward, ready to blast the ennemies of the Imperium to pieces. But their stance was weird… It looked as if they were… tiptoeing?

From the other side of the planet, Duns Scottus had heard the announcement and seen the drop pods falling. His anger at having to change his plans once more because of yet-other new arrivals faded when he was told that the followers of Emperor were tiptoeing around in plain sight, garbed in garish colours, and yelling at the top of their overpowered vox-broadcasters that they were ‘SNEAKING YOU CUNTS!!! NOTHING TO SEE HERE, WE’RE JUST SNEAKING BEHIND YOU TO KICK YOU CUNTSY ASS OFF-PLANET !!!’ He just could not believe that anyone would be stupid enough to broadcast to everyone on the planet that they were sneaking. It had to be a trap. He started ignoring every report of those loud Marines, dismissing them as a distraction, while he started looking for the real loyalist threat that had to be somewhere else.

Bestasnik also could not believe it when told about the weird Marines, but not for the same reason: ‘Dos beakies are doin’ it wrong, dey are all yellow so dey should be ‘splodin’, not sneakin’. It’s purple dat’s da sneakiest!’ So dumbfounded was he by that illogical turn of event that he completly forgot to keep attacking the spiky Beakies or the squishy humies.

Angry Reiver Sergeant Asshole McCuntsface was also having the time of his life. His infiltration technique, honed on multiple battlefields and brawls with those little shits that called themselves his brothers (or rather called themselves ‘FUCKING ANGRY MARINES YOU DUMB CUNT OF A GIRLYMAN’S TOY !!!’), was working perfectly. Neither the DUMB AS SHIT GREENSKINS or THOSE BLUE BELLIED WORM CUNTS OF THE WEAKASS BULLSHIT LEGION had noticed his men’s approach. They were now perfectly placed to launch a SNEAK ATTACK ON THOSE FUCKERS!!!

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Two days later, Duns Scottus turned in amazement to his second-in-command and banner bearer, Swiffer.

‘- What in the name of Chaos just happened? How did our forces get crushed so easily? And I can’t even find a trace of the Greenskins…

- My lord, it’s those weird Marines. The yellow and red ones. They have been picking out our forces and the Orks since their arrivals by tearing out their balls and hitting them with it, before making a gigantic ass statue out of the corpse so that they could, and I quote here ‘KICK THE COLLECTIVE ASS OF THE FUCKERS WHO THOUGHT THEY WERE BETTER AT SNEAKING THAN US’. And then they started taking turns kicking it until it exploded. And now they’re on their way here’.

- What? We need to escape now ! Tell the men to withdraw from this planet immediatly!

-There are no more ships for us to use, Lord. The Loyalists destroyed them all yelling ‘SNEAK ATTACK!!! WE’RE SNEAK ATTACKING THOSE SHIPS YOU FUCKERS!!!’

-We’ll just use the locals’ ships then! I will not let one of the heads of the Hydra be crushed, even by Loyalists that are better at infiltration than us!

- You really don’t get it, do you? They destroyed ''all'' the ships. Even the local ones. And they are not better at sneaking. They litteraly yelled that they were sneaking, but you refused to believe it. It’s really time for me to be going. I’ve stayed here to long, and my ‘Brothers’ could catch up to me at any time.

-Swiffer, what are you saying? And why are you wearing the green of the Angels? And where did that giant sword come from? Swiffer, where are you? ''Swiffeeeeeerr!!''’

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

When the battle barge 'Whisper of Secrets' of the Dark Angels Space Marines Chapter entered the Genericus system following the detection of the ''totally-not-fallen-Angel'' known as Cypher, they were quite surprised to find the Angry Marines Battle barge ‘FUCKYOURSHIT’ already in orbit above Genericus III. When transmissions from the planet finally reached them, they were even more astonished at learning their 'cousins' had completely eradicated the Alpha Legion and Blood Axe forces on the planet. More concerning, however, was the fact that they had also anihilated every single ship on the planet, be they civilian or military, Orks, Traitors or Loyalists.

Wary at the thought that their prey might still be on the planet, waiting to be found by anyone, especially the angry nutters, Brother-Captain Berith of the 5th Company decided to hail the 'FUCKYOURSHIT' to demand they be handed over control of the campaign in the name of the hunt for Traitor Astartes, something they were far better equiped to do. No response was sent by the battle barge. Although it started to leave the orbit of Genericus III. Berith was initially relieved before being informed that it was now heading straight for the 'Whisper of Secrets'. Every attempt to hail the rapidly approaching battle barge was met with silence, until it came to a sudden (and violent) halt in boarding range. A single message was sent: ‘OH NO YOU DON’T YOU COCKSUCKING KILLSTEALING FUCKTARDS !!!’

The after-action report of the campaign of Genericus III, submitted by the local governor to the Estate Imperium, stated that the Angry Marines forces of the battle barge 'FUCKYOURSHIT' had completly anihilated the Traitor Forces, as well as the vile Xenos that had assaulted the world. It also mentionned that the entire crew of the Dark Angels battle barge 'Whisper of Secrets' had been unable to sit for two weeks straight after the official handover of power between the two Astartes Chapter. When asked by the Estate about the circumstances of the handover, the Unforgiven refused to comment.

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

==The Making of an Angry Marine==

Shitforbrains stared at the console before him, his eyes not believing what he was seeing on the screen. Glancing around the room where the final initiation was to take place he saw similar looks of shock and welling anger on the other initiates while two Angry Chaplains watched over the scene before them, their furious gazes burning into the foreheads of the soon to be Angry Marines before them. “RIGHT YOU SACKS OF ORK CRAP!!!” bellowed one of the Chaplains “I DON’T NEED TO FUCKING TELL YOU WHAT TO DO!!! WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN HERE WHEN I COULD BE FUCKING PUNCHING SOMETHING INSTEAD!!!” “BECAUSE YOUR A TAU WEEABOO PRICK WHO HAS TO MENTOR SHITS LIKE THESE!!!” shouted the other Chaplain at the first, swinging a pre-emptive punch, more as something to do than out of any real anger.

The initiates ignored the two fighting Chaplain’s, they were all still too preoccupied by the screens before each of them. “Why did it have to be this?!” whispered one of the initiates, his hands visibly trembling over the ancient computers keypad while another initiate began to shed terrified and furious tears, an act which would normally have had the other initiates beating him over the head, but right now they all felt like crying, as on the screen before them, glowing on the screens which seemed to burn into their retinas was the green and white start up text of Battle toads. Shitforbrains thought back over his past five years he had been training and completing the Angry Marine trials to become a full battle brother, he had spent his time as an Angry Ganger, getting slowly furious while aiming down a sniper scope that he just wanted to swing like a bat into the nearest enemy, he’d shoved a grenade down a Homogaunt’s throat (after wrestling the terrified and retreating xeno to the ground), he’d shouted down a howling banshee and only suffered minor deafness as a result, he’d even survived for a couple of seconds under the withering glare of Commissar Fuklaw (the longest any initiate had ever done before catching fire), but this, this was the final, and most difficult, trial he and his fellow initiates had to complete.

Their task, was to complete Battletoads, the hardest and most infuriating game in existence.

Glancing over his shoulder, trying to delay the inevitable, Shitforbrains spotted the three Angry Tech Priests and Apothecary who were there to take away any initiate who completely lost his mind while playing the game so that he could be turned into a Kill-a-Tor, a proposition which Shitforbrains was seriously considering. He could just quit now, it would mean that he’d have to scrub out toilets and work in the battle barge MAXIMIUM FUCKS library for two years, but he’d be able to take the test again after those two years and he’d only receive a minor beating and cursing for doing so, the final initiation test still scared full battle brothers after all. “Fuck Fuck Fuckity Fuck!” screamed Shitforbrains in his head “You’re not fucking quitting now you pussy Tau weeaboo, get your dick out of your ass and getting fucking playing this stupid game!” And at that, he grasped the computers controls, and began to play.

Four hours later and Shitforbrains was still only on the second level, the tech priests had seen fit to set the game to its highest possible difficulty, and had fitted the computer with the most unresponsive of keyboards, the keyboard alone had been enough to make one initiate flee the room screaming curse words, while another had fallen to the ground foaming at the mouth, swear words bubbling up through the foam as the tech priests carried him from the room. But Shitforbrains and the other initiates gave all this only passing thought and contemplation, they were too busy being furious at the games before them, to the point that the rage filling the room had become a palpable smell, like a mix of burnt pizza and junk mail. The two Chaplains had also stopped fighting by this point, and had started roaming the room, looming over the hunched shoulders of initiates and saying things like “YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOUR MEANT TO HIT THE FUCKER NOT ENGAGE IN LIGHT FOREPLAY!!!” and “GAME OVER YOU BASTARD!!! GAME FUCKING OVER!!!” as the gamers collided with enemies or sent their character tumbling to their deaths.

Eight hours later and Shitforbrains had started getting twitchy, even with some of his gene seed implanted the long hours starring at the tiny screen before him was making his eyes hurt and he really needed a shit at this point, the rumours about the initiates being fed laxatives in their pre-test meals seemed to be true. Despite all this however, he’d managed to progress through the game to the point that he felt that he could (if given enough time) complete it, he’d got the hand of the clumsy keyboard and had noticed patterns in the ancient software’s programming, he could do this, it may take him days but he could do it, and it would be fucking wor… At this thought, a tiny avatar of an Angry Marine with a crude troll face wandered onto the display, grasped Shitforbrains character by the throat and began to repeatedly kick him in the balls, tiny pixels of blood erupting from the avatar until, in a violent and bloody coughing fit, he coughed up his own testicles. At this, the screen flashed “GAME OVER COCKSUCKER!!!” and went back to the start screen.

For a full minute, Shitforbrains simply starred at the screen, his mouth slightly open, while, out of the corner of his eye, the two Angry Chaplains watched him. What was he supposed to do? The game was impossible, the cunts had modified it to be even more impossible than it already was. At the thought, Shitforbrains slowly raised his gaze to the two Chaplains. “Those cunts,” he thought “they had done this, they were doing this for their own entertainment, they were fUCKing pLAYing WITh Him! WeLL NO FUCKing MoRE!! NO FUCKING MORE!!!” And at that moment, as finally his thoughts played out in his mind in caps locks, Shitforbrains realised that that had been the test all along, but that thought was but a fleeting one, drowned out by his scream of “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!” as he ripped the monitor before him off its adamantium housing, and (using his chair as a springboard) leapt into the air towards the two Chaplains to smash the accursed computer onto their skulls.

At the sudden release of rage the remaining seven initiates mental damns also broke, and they too began screaming and cursing in caps lock and exclamation marks at maximum setting, ripping up their tables to swing around at any moving target, even themselves, anything to express the hours of pent up fury which had grown to explosive levels inside themselves. As if by predetermined signal (in reality its more that battle brothers will hang around final initiations because they know that they’re always a good source of fights) all the doors to the test room exploded open and a tide of Angry Marines raged inwards, wielding any weapon they could carry, until the small space was a swell of swearing and fighting marines.

Several hours later, the eight initiates were dragged, bruised, broken and swearing before the Chapter Master, Temperus Maximus, who simply glared down at the initiates, the Codex Angry Marines clasped under one giant, armoured arm. “YOU!!!” bellowed Maximus at Shitforbrains as he struggled to his feet on one broken leg, news about him being the first initiate to snap must have travelled “WHAT IS YOUR NAME YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!!!” Grimacing at the pain in his leg, the young initiate bellowed his response “SHITFORBRAINS YOU SHIT HEAD!!! YOU’D BETTER NOT BE THE CUNT WHO PROGRAMMED THAT GAME OTHERWISE I’LL SHOVE A CARNIFEX DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROAT!!!” The Chapter Master gave the smallest of smiles at this before responding “SHUT UP YOU WHINNING PRICK!!! NOW ALL OF YOU HAVE SHOWN THAT YOU’RE A BUNCH OF ANGRY BASTARDS, AND AS THE CHAPTER MASTER I…” pausing to think for a moment before continuing “AH FUCK IT YOUR ANGRY MARINES NOW!!! WELCOME TO THE BRAWL!!!” and with snarling, broken grins on their faces, Shitforbrains and the other new Angry Marines replied in kind.
“ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!”

And at that, the eight initiates charged the Chapter Master, who welcomed the fight with open arms, and as Shitforbrains saw the Codex Angry Marines being swung towards him, in the moments before he was knocked unconscious, he realised that he was finally happy, for the first time in his life. “ITS FUCKING GOOD TO BE AN ANGRY MARINE!!!” he thought before the bliss of unconsciousness took him.

+++++++ 

Thought for the day: Happiness is a... '''THUMP''' STOP TALKING AND JUST HIT THE FUCKERS!!!

+++++++

== Tyranids V Millennials V Angry Titans: A fucking novella, or something ==

The Imperial world of Illis, located within the solar system Illis, within the Illis sub-sector (just in case there was any uncertainty about where rescuing Space Marines might have to go one day), was facing its destruction again. A shadow was cast across the Warp. Psykers began to go insane, raving about monsters and vast gulfs of time and space. Heathens on the planet thought their minor Chaos deity, Lord Cthulhu, was about to wake. The truth was much scarier: Hive Fleet Amemasu was coming, and it was hungry, and Planet Illis was going to be the main course.

Worse news was to come. A previously small and ignored cult calling itself the Millennial Falcons had been on some kind of recruitment drive and had taken over more than half the planet. This wasn't a Chaos cult, they weren't being ruled by xenos puppeteers, they were just a bunch of morons who'd never had to strive or suffer and were trying to make damn sure they never did. Why should they, when there were trillions of other Imperial citizens to do it for them? And yet, here was a request from the authorities to take up arms in defence of their world – to put their precious selves in harm's way.

Instead of building defences or learning how to use a lasgun (since they felt that they didn't have to obey the fucking Planetary Governor), the Millennial Falcons sent a strongly-worded missive of protest to the Emperor himself, believing that He would put His battle against the Chaos Powers on hold and sort the Millenials' shit out for them, because They Had Rights [TM]. When the Emperor did not magically solve all their problems, probably because He thought they were a bunch of lazy cunts, the Millennial Falcons turned completely against the Imperium; after all, this is how atheists have been created throughout human history. Heretical faggotry spread, and spread, and spread.

Governor Mellitus remained loyal to the Throne. He wished to send a message through to the wider Imperium outlining his world's situation and pleading for help. The astropaths told him to send it him-fucking-self, they would no longer be discriminated against by being the only humans who sent psychic messages these days (ignoring the fact that they were the only humans who could). So Mellitus used a cogitator of considerable power, battling through the constant pop-ups and directories full of lascivious images that had begun to choke his planet's data-net thanks to the Millennials.

Days passed without response. The Hive Fleet drew nearer. Rebellion flared. The outlook was grim. Then, at last, they received a reply.

++ REINFORCEMENTS SANCTIONED ++

++ DEPLOYING THE ANGRY MARINES ++

===Fucking Warp Travel===

The Angry Marines strike cruiser Cackumbabo roared through space at maximum realdrive. Its machine spirit was too pissed off to allow the Techmarines to engage its warp engine; fuck that Chaos crap, Cackumbabo was going into battle the old-fashioned way, even if it took 2000 years.

“COME ON YOU FUCKING LUMP OF WORTHLESS ORKSHIT!” roared Captain Twatsplasher, whacking the sacred warp engine with his power-wrench. “WE'VE GOT FACES TO RAPE!!!”

“DON'T FUCKING DO THAT, MY LORD!” cried Brother Terridyne, their chief Techmarine, trying to wrestle the weapon/tool/phallic symbol from Twatsplasher's white-knuckled grip. “FOR FUCK'S SAKE, WE'LL END UP GETTING BUMMED BY DAEMONS! BALANCE YOUR BLOODY HUMOURS!!”

“NO-BOLLOCKS WASTREL!!! IF YOU DON'T GET THIS SHIP INTO THE WARP IN FIVE SECONDS FLAT, I'LL BLAST MYSELF OUT OF THE NEAREST FUCKING AIRLOCK, SWIM BACK TO YOUR HOME PLANET AND BALANCE YOUR WHITESHIELD-SUCKING MUM ON MY RAMROD YOU FAGGOT!!!!”

The techmarine began to unclasp the front of his power-trousers.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, BITCH?!!” screamed Twatsplasher.

“INSTALLING MY SACRED MECHA-PENIS, THAT'S WHAT THE FUCK I'M DOING! I'LL GIVE THIS MECHANICAL CUM-GOBBLER ALL THE THRUST IN THE FUCKING UNIVERSE!!”

The ship panicked and threw itself into the warp with a jolt. Terridyne fell into Twatsplasher's arms.

“ISN'T THIS FUCKING ROMANTIC!” the Captain yelled. “ALL FUCKING YIFFERS KNOW THE PENALTY FOR HUGGING A COMMANDING OFFICER!”

He turned Terridyne around and delivered the sacred punishment of pulling the Techmarine's undergarments over his head. If Terridyne suffered a broken neck or choked to death on his own knicker-elastic, that meant he was heathen scum who deserved it. If he lived, then he was redeemed and would have an opportunity to start fixing some shit around here.

“TWATSPLASHER TO THE FUCKING CIRCUS ROUSTABOUTS CALLING THEMSELVES 3RD COMPANY,” the Captain voxed while the tech-marine stumbled around, arms flailing. “YOU EXCREMENTAL CUNTS CAN STOP TUGGING YOUR BELL-ENDS AND MEET ME IN THE FUCKING BRIEFING ROOM! WAR IS IMMINENT, BITCHES!!!”

“YES YOUR FUCKING MAJESTY!” his men responded as they ran to the briefing room, pulling on helms and loading bolters as they ran. Twatsplasher was a singular Company Commander. His men didn't have to show the reverence he fucking deserved, as he wasn't some Slaaneshi faggot who lived on praise. Besides, the constant exchange of insults kept him sharp.

===Briefing the Pussies from 3rd Company===

Thirty Marines assembled. Only thirty, to face fucking shitloads of Nids. The company used to be 100 strong plus some Dreadnoughts and shit, but whatever happened to the others is not in the Angry Marines databank for some reason, and the last time an Inquisitor tried to check it, she was found hanging upside-down from a 600-foot-tall bastion by her undercrackers. The Angry Marines are equal opportunity psychos.

Twatsplasher appraised the men.

“SEEMS THESE 'MILLENNIAL FALCONS' ARE FAGGOTS, CONTAMINATING OTHERS WITH SAID FAGGOTRY, WHILE EATING LENTILS AND TOUCHING EACH OTHERS' FUCKING BUMS! IT'S BECOME A WORLD OF SELF-RIGHTEOUS THUNDERCUNTS ABOUT TO GET CHEWED!”

“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT, SIR,” Sergeant Dammiel said. “THEY'VE GOT 35 MILLION PDF WANKERS FACING OFF AGAINST A HIVE FLEET AND THEY'RE SENDING BLOODY COMPLAINTS TO THE EMPEROR AND EXPECTING US TO FUCKING DIE FOR THEM?!”

“THAT'S ABOUT THE SIZE OF IT, CUNTYBAWS! IT'S A CLUSTERFUCK OF GRIMDARK PROPORTIONS, TOO MANY LAZY WANKERS ABOUT THESE DAYS!!!”

“DICK-EATING FURFAGGOTS!!!!!” yelled Brother Hammerhead. He was in a fine fury. Spittle flew from his vox-grille. “I'LL KICK THEIR BOLLOCKS UP INTO THEIR THROAT!”

Terridyne the Techmarine had recovered from his wedgie, exhibiting only a slightly shocked look and a yellow smudge on his head.

“MY FUCKING LORD,” he said. “I WOULD NEVER GAINSAY YOU, FOR WE HAVE SERVED TOGETHER THROUGH MANY PERILS, BUT YOU MUST HAVE WRITTEN OUR BATTLE-PLAN WITH YOUR FUCKING COCK OUT! HOW IN THE NAME OF CALGAR'S CRACK DO WE STOP A SODDING HIVE FLEET WITHOUT THOSE PDF WANK-BISCUITS COVERING US?!”

Twatsplasher headbutted him with the force of planets colliding.

“LIKE THAT, CYBER-EMO, HOW DO YOU FUCKING THINK!!!”

“BUT THIS IS BOLLOCKS, BROTHER-CAPTAIN!” said Dammiel. “WHY ARE THOSE INBRED COCKS ALLOWED TO SIT ON THEIR ARSES? IT'S FUCKING TREASON!!!!!”

“THEY'RE NOT FUCKING ALLOWED, YOU WASTE OF SPUNK! AS SOON AS WE'VE RIPPED THE BOLLOCKS OFF HIVE FLEET AMEMASU, WE'RE GOING AFTER THE MILLENNIAL FAGGOTS, AND MAKING SURE THE PUSSY GOVERNOR IS REPLACED BY SOME BASTARD WITH A FUCKING SPINE!”

He looked to his men. The briefing had lasted over three minutes, surely a Chapter record, and they were ready to rip each other to pieces in frustration.

“WE'VE GOT A FUCKING TASK AHEAD!!!” said Twatsplasher. “BUT WHO ARE WE???”

“THE ANGRY MARINES!” the men replied.

“ALWAYS ANGRY!!!”

“ALL THE TIME!!!” his men roared in one voice.

Captain Twatsplasher might have been a horrible cunt, but he was also noble:

“REMEMBER YOU FUCKING BUNCH OF PRATS! BETWEEN US, THE TYRANIDS AND THESE MILLENNIAL TOSSERS, THERE ARE SIXTEEN BILLION CIVILIANS WHO DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON! LAST ONE IN THE DROP POD'S A FUCKING ULTRAMARINE!”

===Making a Fucking Entrance===

The Angry Marines didn't have to worry about the Shadow in the Warp as that only deterred pussies. Cackumbabo exploded into the Illis system with a sound like Slaanesh's whip cracking across Khorne's buttocks. This is not to imply the Angry Marines and their serfs have anything to do with Chaos, it's just what was going on in the warp at that moment.

One Astartes vessel faced off against the incoming swarm of bio-ships. Red and yellow stood against star-bleached purple, scowling faces against faceless maws, human courage against implacable hunger. The Astartes vessel surged forward. Its course took it close to the planet, so close in fact that it nearly fucking landed at one point, and spat drop-pods at the surface. Then the Cackumbabo rocketed into the mass of Nid ships, blazing firepower in every direction, only to be seen again one hour later when its warp engines detonated and dragged a hundred bio-ships to hell. One last FUCK YOU from the Emperor's finest.

Twatsplasher, Terridyne and the chaps landed directly on top of a vanguard swarm that was trying to eat a city. Roaring, frothing Space Marines emerged, screaming an endless “FUUUUUUUUUUUU-” and blizzarding fire into the hurricane of Gaunts, Gargoyles, Stealers and Lictors, creating their own fucked-up biosphere of destroyed bodies. The 3rd Company despised guns as much as the rest of their Chapter but when you were up against a fucking Hive Fleet on your own, you want some bullets for when the enemy is out of headbutting range. Despite applying such tactical prudence they ran out of bolter ammo almost straight away. Wrenches, steel bars, chainswords, foreheads, fists and believe it or not elbows did most of the killing. Twatsplasher was at 160 kills in the first two minutes. The rest of his men thinned the alien herd until only a few traumatised Hormagaunts remained.

“-UUUUUK YOUUUUU!” the war cry ended. The battle was over but the war was only just kicking off. Thousands upon thousands more Nids were coming. Some of them were big bastards too. The Angry Marines formed a circle, pissed off beyond mortal measure that the Emperor's enemies had been allowed to defile this world, and realising that they were now trapped as three additional swarms closed in around them. Smoke and clouds of spores swirled in the air. The sun was almost eclipsed.

“THIS IS IT YOU INBRED AMATEURS!” roared Twatsplasher. “IF THEY OVERRUN US HERE, WE'RE THE CUNTS WHO DOOMED THIS SHITHOLE AND LOST A BLOODY GOOD SHIP IN SO DOING! WE HOLD!!! FIRST ONE TO DIE SUCKS ELDAR KNOBS!!!!!!”

“Get your heads down, Astartes!” a human male said across the vox. He sounded in considerable pain. “This... is going... to be close.”

Missiles the size of Land Raiders screamed through the air towards them, coming out of the smoke clouds. Explosion after explosion swept across the land. Buildings collapsed, dust and flames flew, two whole Tyranid swarms were reduced to purple smears. The survivors fell back to find more Synapse creatures or whatever those xenos pricks did when they'd fucking lost.

“BASTARD!” Twatsplasher roared. Shockwaves had thrown him over backwards and he had to pull his head out of a Mawlock's arsehole with a loud pop. “IF THERE WERE CIVILIANS IN THOSE BUILDINGS YOU'RE GOING UNDER LIKE NECROMUNDA YOU ANONYMOUS FUCK-GRUBBER!”

“Your gratitude... lightens... my soul,” the human panted. “This city was... abandoned.”

The smoke began to thin. Twatsplasher saw their rescuer.

“DORN'S DICK!” he whispered at 90 decibels.

The smoke drew back to reveal a Warlord Titan, Beetleback-class. Its legs were scratched and acid-scarred. Void shields flared as if the crew were having trouble keeping them up. A multiple rocket launcher mounted on its carapace belched burning gunpowder; the other carapace gun was some kind of giant assault cannon. Its right hand was a power fist painted with black and yellow stripes that seemed dangerously close to traitor colours, and its left was some kind of shitty short-ranged laser thing.

“AT LEAST SOMEONE IN THIS FUCKING DUMP'S GOT THE BALLS TO FIGHT!” said Brother Hammerhead. The other rank-and-file Marines agreed.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” Twatsplasher voxed to the Titan's crew.

“I am... Princeps Abnettius,” the Titan's controller replied. “I regret that I am... mortally wounded... There are survivors making... a last stand. They need... your help.”

“WELL WE'RE NOT HERE TO ENJOY THE FUCKING WEATHER!” roared Twatsplasher. “LEAD THE WAY PRINCEPS PANTSHITTER!”

“I know... something of your... abilities,” Abnettius panted. “I cannot... make it. Perhaps you... could take... my place. My senior crew... have gone to join... the Emperor. I cannot control it... much longer.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED, BITCH!” Twatsplasher said without fear. “OPEN UP, WE'RE FUCKING EMBARKING! TERRIDYNE, DAMMIEL, HAMMERHEAD, WOGAN, I REQUEST THE FUCKING MISERY OF YOUR COMPANY – THE REST OF YOU TESTICULAR POLYPS FOLLOW ON FOOT AND STAY OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY, I'M IN THE MOOD TO STOMP SOME FAGGOTS!”

Abnettius opened a secret hatch in the Warlord's left leg and the Angry Marines ascended. The spiral staircase was narrow and sized for humans; it wobbled dangerously under the combined weight of the five rage-infused bastards clambering up it. The Titan was tall and the Marines had to spend at least two minutes staring at the sculpted bum-cheeks of the Brothers in front until they reached the Warlord's head.

Princeps Abnettius didn't look wounded. He must have suffered some neural feedback shit that nobody understood. He peered vaguely at the Astartes, blinking, unfocused.

“Thank the Emperor...” Abnettius whispered. “You possess the ability... to learn quickly... from others?”

“YOU BET YOUR BLANK-FIRING BOLLOCKS WE DO,” said Twatsplasher, “BUT I DON'T THINK YOU'LL LIKE HOW IT FUCKING WORKS!”

“I care not... just do it... save those people... end the xenos.”

“YOU FUCKING ASKED FOR IT,” Twatsplasher warned. He broke the Princep's head open with a tap of his power-wrench as if it were some kind of egg and ate his brains.

===How To Work a Motherfucking Titan===

It took ten minutes for the Angry Marines to get ready. This involved Twatsplasher's men clambering into the gun positions with much swearing and grunting, then eating the brains of the dead crew they were replacing so they knew how to cover their positions, and reverentially chucking the bodies out of exhaust chutes. A number of lesser crew, human and servitor, remained alive, manning secondary systems. None of them were happy with recent events but followed orders to sit in their chairs and press some fucking buttons or something.

The Angry Marines then did something that would surprise most people: they said a prayer to recognise the Titan crew's heroism. Unfortunately Angry Marine prayers cannot be printed here as they make people go blind. Twatsplasher might be an outright wanker but he was the most pious man in the galaxy and his like may never be seen again (hopefully). “YOU GROT-FONDLING DIPSHITS CAN'T HANDLE THIS LEVEL OF FUCKING PIETY!” the Captain had roared a few years ago as he chased the Chaplains around, whacking them over the head with his self-made prayer book, entitled "KILL ALL XENOS FOR THE EMPRAH".

There was some debate about who should replace Princeps Abnettius. Only Terridyne had sockets for direct neural interface.

“SIR, I'M THE FUCKING TECHMARINE,” he voxed. “I'M THE ONLY ONE CAN COMMAND THE BASTARD THING!”

“WHICH TWAT MADE YOU THE NEW PRIMARCH? MAN THE LAUNCHER YOU WHINGING TOSSER, I CAN HANDLE THIS CRAP!”

“WITH ALL FUCKING RESPECT, THAT'S BOLLOCKS, MY LORD! HOW ARE YOU GONNA GET THIS PIECE OF SHIT MOVING WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN PLUG YOUR ARSE INTO IT FOR FUCK'S SAKE? YOU NEED MORE THAN A FRIGGING JOYSTICK AND SHITTY BREATH TO COMMAND A FUCKING TITAN!!”

“I KNOW WHAT I'M FUCKING DOING YOU BRONIE WANKER!!!!” roared the Captain with superior rage. “YOUR PROTESTS ARE SNOT SHOVELLED INTO MY FUCKING EARS SO SHUT YOUR GROT-LICKING GOB BEFORE I COME OVER THERE AND INTERFACE MY DICK WITH YOUR EYE-SOCKETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!11one”

The Titan's human crew were shocked to hear this exchange. They weren't on the Angry Marine vox-net, they could literally hear the Marines yelling at each each other through hundreds of tons of ceramite. The humans had no idea that the Angry Marines 3rd Company “enjoyed” a brotherhood forged in fire, or that Twatsplasher encouraged “debate” as a middle finger to that Codex Astartes bullshit.

The Captain might not have had neural implants but he did have something: mastery of his absolute fucking RAGE. His emotional control was so good he only spent 97% of the time in a state of frenzy, although if anyone made the mistake of raising this delicate matter, he broke their spines and made them eat their own bollocks, not always in that order. The Captain summoned all the rage his genhanced body could handle, then he summoned some more, and he roared with righteous fury as the rage moulded into a mental spear jabbed straight into the Titan's heart. The god-machine was too terrified to deny such a man and bent instantly to his will.

“THERE'S YOUR ANSWER, BITCH!” Twatsplasher said. “I WASN'T MADE CAPTAIN FOR SUCKING THE FUCKING CHAPTER MASTER!!!!”

The Titan jerked forward then stumbled, and fell sideways, landing on some buildings and knocking them down. Its Angry Marine crew cried out in rage and confusion.

“FEELS LIKE A FUCKING HIPPO'S SITTING ON MY DAMN FACE!” Hammerhead raged. His weapon, the power fist, was the only thing preventing the Titan from completely capsizing.

“TRY NOT TO FUCKING FACEPLANT THE EPIC GOD-MACHINE YOU BLOODY ORK!” said Terridyne. “FRIGGING TOLD YOU I SHOULD BE DRIVING!”

“FUCKING KNOBSACKS!!!” roared the Captain. “THIS IS HARDER THAN MY ADAMANTIUM COCK!”

He concentrated on his rage, held onto it, made it flow, and the Titan clambered back to its feet. It swung around, instinctively knowing which way to go, which was pretty fucking excellent since the Angry Marines didn't. It stomped forwards with a swaying gait as if it had shat its pants. Over the internal vox Twatsplasher addressed his men:

“STAY AWAKE YOU USELESS CUNTS, WE'RE ABOUT TO ENGAGE THE FUCKING FOE! TERRIDYNE, IF THAT MISSILE LAUNCHER ISN'T LOADED BY THE TIME WE SEE PURPLE, THERE WON'T BE A TAPE MEASURE WIDE ENOUGH TO MEASURE YOUR FUCKING RING!

“WOGAN, GET THAT FANNY-FACED WRECKING BALL YOU CALL A HEAD OUT OF TERRIDYNE'S ARSE AND WARM THAT LASER BURNER OR I'LL USE IT TO CUT YOUR BLOODY KNOB OFF!

“HAMMERHEAD, UNTIL WE GET TOE-TO-TOE YOU'RE GOING TO BE AS FUCKING WORTHLESS AS EVER. I WANT THAT POWER FIST READY TO RIP AND TEAR OR I'LL SLAP YOUR MISERABLE FEATURES ROUND THE BACK OF THAT CORN-STUDDED TURD ON TOP OF YOUR NECK!

“DAMMIEL, IF THAT ASSAULT CANNON STOPS FIRING FOR ONE MICROSECOND I'LL DIP YOU IN SHIT AND FIRE YOU FROM THE FRIGGING MISSILE LAUNCHER!!!

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

This might have been the worst pep-talk in history but these weren't mere faggots, they were the fucking ANGRY MARINES, the biggest and meanest bastards in the Emperor's realm.

“ALWAYS ANGRY!” Twatsplasher yelled.

“ALL THE TIME!” replied the men.

The cry was echoed by the remnants of 3rd Company milling around behind them. Twatsplasher couldn't be arsed to learn how the vox worked, and he was broadcasting everything from external speakers. The Titan, whose name they didn't even know (or care about, to be honest), stumbled into the smoke, trailing a wake of yellow-armoured psychos. Vengeance had never looked so terrifying.

===Eat It, Motherfuckers===

The Titan strode across a blasted landscape. Burned out tanks and personnel carriers were strewn around, but there were no bodies of either man or xenos; they'd all been devoured, or dragged back to digestion pools. Speaking of which, the Titan passed dozens of rippling red pools which it cauterised with its laser burner, and kicked over a dozen strange growths that resembled hundred-foot-tall claws. Lightning struck their void shields due to a combination of dust in the atmosphere creating static, and the planet's biosphere being damaged somehow. Twatsplasher ended up ordering his crew to conserve ammo where possible until bigger, slower targets appeared, and let the fucking grunts outside deal with the scattered swarms of hunter-killers they encountered. The little bastards moved too fast for Terridyne and Dammiel to hit – Dammiel had already sent two thousand shells screaming over the horizon, the retarded fuck-cunt, claiming that Twatsplasher's odd way of walking the Titan was throwing off his aim.

Where were the armies, the carpets of Rippers, the Bio-Titans? Didn't the fucking Nids care that the Emperor's most crazed servants had turned up? Twatsplasher might have been the ugliest human being currently deployed on Illis, but he wasn't thick. Either the Nids were up to something, or the human resistance was surrounded. It turned out to be the latter.

Resistance remained in a single location. All human survivors had pulled back behind a mountain range which had been turned into an epic curtain wall. It was ablaze from end to end. Those Tyranid cunts could set fire to fucking rock, it was actually awesome, if you think the achievements of xenos scum have merit. Thousands of PDF troopers, and Guardsmen who had been stranded here by the Shadow in the Warp, still manned gun emplacements built into the wall, blazing away at an enemy even the Titan was not tall enough to see. A door made of solid adamantium was in the centre of the wall; dozens of tank companies assembled behind it, waiting for the xenos to break through, as there was now no chance of them sallying forth – the world was almost lost. This was a last stand, the enemy were at the final gate and the humans were about to get butt-fucked.

“BROTHER-CAPTAIN,” voxed Terridyne, “WE ARE APPOROACHING THE MOTHERFUCKING FRONT LINE!”

“I'M NOT FUCKING BLIND YOU BALD TWAT! TIME TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF EVERY COCKGOBBLER IN RANGE!”

Hundreds of human soldiers turned in shock and fear and, increasingly, in hope, as they heard salvation screaming abuse at them.

“THIS IS CAPTAIN FUCKTIOUS TWATSPLASHER OF THE IMPERIAL ANGRY MARINES! GET OFF THE WALLS, COCKSICKLES, THE FUCKING 3RD COMPANY'S COMING THROUGH!!!”

Soldiers spilled down stairways and roped down walls. A Mechanicus contingent started trying to open the main doors, but doors are for whiteshields: Twatsplasher walked his rage-powered god-machine straight through the mountain as if it wasn't there. Rock, metal, gun emplacements with glowing barrels, all came down around the Titan. Dust ran like water from its flanks. A great cloud of smoke and dust flew up to join the shit already in the atmosphere. And still the Titan kept on going, towards the hordes of alien monsters heading for man's last bastion on this world.

It was fucking hammertime.

*

The Tyranids swarmed in their millions. Little purple fucks milled between the hooves of giant leader-beasts. The sky was full of flying vermin. Those Nids on the ground were led by a Dominatrix, a bio-titan that all other bio-titans tug themselves off about. It walked on four clawed legs, body bowed beneath the weight of a bio-cannon that was nearly as big as a Reaver Titan. The creature had a long neck ending in a head that was all teeth and blade-vanes. It peered into the dust-cloud, trying to see what last threat the humans had sent against it.

A Warlord Titan emerged, right arm raised, power fist displaying a blazing middle finger.

“THEY WILL NOT CON-FUCKING-TROL US, WE WILL BE FUCKING VICTORIOUS!!!” Twatsplasher's atonal bellow came from its speakers. And then:

“THE HOUR IS FUCKING NIGH, XENOS!!!!!”

*

“ACCELERATING TO A FUCKING LUMBER,” the Captain told his crew. “PREPARE TO RAPE FACE YOU WANKERS!”

The Dominatrix reared up and gave vent to a scream that sounded like tearing metal. It began to charge towards them, not even bothering to use its cannon.

“CAPTAIN TWATFACE HAS HIS USUAL EFFECT ON WOMEN!” said Wogan. “HERE SHE FUCKING COMES!”

“FUCKING SHOOT HER THEN!” answered Terridyne. He opened up with the missile launcher. All his shots were turned aside by a field of purple force which flickered around the Dominatrix.

“GET ME CLOSER,” Hammerhead raged. “FUCKING PANSY-ARSED TWATS PISSING AROUND! LET ME GIVE HER THE ASTARTES KISS! I'D LIKE TO SEE HER FUCKING BLOCK THAT!!!”

Dammiel's assault cannon was as loose and wild as a hosepipe dropped by incompetent fire-servitors. Not a single round was on target despite the Dominatrix's ginormous bulk. It was like watching the retarded Godzilla film from 1998.

“BROTHER DAMMIEL,” said Twatsplasher, “YOU MUST BE THE MOST USELESS CUNT SINCE THE ANCIENT SCRIBE C.S. GOTO! WHEN I SAID FIRE THE ASSAULT CANNON, I MEANT AT THE FUCKING NIDS!!!”

“WITH DUE REVERENCE, I CAN'T HIT JACK SHIT WITH YOU WOBBLING LIKE A FUCKING 2ND MILLENNIUM KONG TOY! HOLD THIS BITCH STEADY!”

Twatsplasher growled with the frustration of trying to make thousands of tons of metal and pistons run like a man. Wogan laughed in the exultation of near-death, watching on his scanner screen as the xenos queen came closer. She was going to fucking knock them over. The Titan's gyro-stabilisers were already struggling under the Captain's amateurish efforts, but now they could feel the ground shaking as the Dominatrix stomped towards them. Wogan watched as more missiles sailed into her defensive field. She was virtually in range of the laser burner. Would it do any good?

“IT'S FUCKING CHEATING TO HAVE VOID SHIELDS ON TOP OF ALL THE OTHER SHIT SHE'S GOT,” Hammerhead said without irony. “I'LL RIP HER ANOTHER FANNY!”

“BRACE FOR IMPACT, FUCKTARDS!!!!!” Twatsplasher roared.

Several things happened almost simultaneously. Dammiel finally hit the target, making confetti out of the Tyranid's bio-cannon; the Dominatrix pounced into the Titan's arms like a lost canid returning to its owner, bursting through the Warlord's void shields from sheer thundering bulk; the two lords of destruction fell backwards and began to wrestle; Hammerhead shat his pants from excitement as he repeatedly punched the Nid in its flank; lights went on and off throughout the Titan's structure; human crew members screamed with terror; the Titan's armour screamed also as it began to buckle beneath the Nid queen's weight.

Twatsplasher jerked his head left and right as he tried to avoid the Dominatrix biting the Titan's face off. Wogan finally had something to contribute. He fired up his laser burner and shredded through tons of flesh and chitin. Ropes of intenstines and gallons of acid blood poured out, shorting his weapon's electronics; one of the human crew reported that the weapon was self-cleansing and should be back online in thirty seconds.

Hammerhead gave them the necessary time. He slapped the Nid's face left, then right, then fucking chinned her with a straight punch. One of the Nid's claws closed around the power fist and wrenched it free, casting it away and killing the valiant Astarte with the shock of neural feedback.

Twatsplasher somehow managed to headbutt the distracted Tyranid. She lurched backwards; the Titan was able to sit up through some miraculous act of gymnastic skill, only for the Dominatrix to roar in its face. Her neck snaked backwards; she was going to lunge forward and bite the Titan's head off.

Wogan's laser burner came back online.

“FOR THE FUCKING EMPEROR!”

He swept the weapon across the Tyranid's neck, severing its head. The Dominatrix fell sideways and died with a series of explosive farts.

It was a victory that went beyond stunning: every surviving crew member felt like the luckiest fucker in the galaxy. Yet though the Tyranid swarms reeled for a moment, there must have been a good number of leader-beasts still left, and they closed around the wounded Titan – to be repulsed by thousands of las shots, heavy-calibre gunfire and explosive tank rounds. Twatsplasher tried to turn. The Titan's peripheral sensors picked up hundreds of metallic signatures and thousands of human bio-signs.

Twelve Angry Marines were still alive, riding on top of PDF Chimeras, chucking rocks, grenades and in at least one case, each other at the aliens. A vast crescent of tanks and personnel carriers followed, with waves of human infantry bringing up the rear on foot.

“READY TO FINALLY FUCKING HIT SOMETHING, TOSSERS?” Twatsplasher yelled at his crew.

“FUCK YEAH SIR!” replied Terridyne and Dammiel. They opened up. Dammiel brought down clusters of Gargoyles and other flying fucks. Terridyne's remaining missiles blew holes in the Tyranid swarm. It was too much even for the homicidal xenos shit-eaters. They turned and ran, but the Emperor's mercy is great, and every last critter was put out of its misery.

“NOW THAT IS HOW THE FUCK YOU STOP A HIVE-FLEET,” said Twatsplasher before neural damage from the titan's damaged systems finally killed him.

*

“WHERE THE FUCK'S CAPTAIN TWAT-KNUCKLE?” said Brother-Captain Wankel.

The surviving members of 3rd Company stood to attention. They were all torn, battered, filth-covered, but stood proudly before the 2nd Company's commander.

“SIR, HE'S FUCKING DEAD, SIR!” said Terridyne. “ALONG WITH MOST OF THE OTHER FUCKING SODS!”

“HOW FUCKING UNFORTUNATE!” Wankel said with as much empathy as any Angry Marine can be arsed to have. “GET YOUR FUCKING ARMOUR FIXED, ABADDON'S AT IT AGAIN, THE GERIATRIC, DRIED-UP, SMELLS-LIKE-OLD-MILK PUSSY! WE SHIP OUT IN SIX POINT THREE MINUTES!”

3rd Company ran headlong for the artificers, wondering how long point three of a minute was.

“Please, sir,” the Planetary Governor begged, “I have learned the error of my weakness. Release me?”

“FIFTEEN MORE MINUTES, BITCH!!”

Governor Mellitus wept. Wankel's boot was pretty far up his arse and had been for the last half an hour.

Wankel surveyed the devastation around them. Weeping civilians were thanking Angry Marines and human soldiers; Mechanicus recovery vehicles were hoisting burned-out tanks; shell-shocked Munitorium adepts were wandering round, wondering how the fuck they were going to organise this lot. Piles of Tyranid bodies were being burned. Alongside them were equally-sized piles of Millennial faggots, mostly still alive, each of them with their underpants pulled over their heads.

“LIGHT THE FIRES, COCKSUCKERS,” Wankel said to the Inquisitors who'd been called to root out all traces of Millennial Falcon heresy. “I WANT TO SMELL ROAST HEATHEN!!!”

*

And that's how the Angry Marines conduct a fucking campaign. I, Addius Letch, have been your scribe; now fuck off because all this righteousness is giving me a hard-on.

+++++++

Thought for the day: Thought begets heresy. Heresy begets the fucking Angry Marines.

+++++++

==The Tale of Shitfucker the Mildly Disgruntled==

Shitfucker the Mildly Disgruntled was not a happy man. Of course, he was an angry marine so he was never actually happy but he was angrier than ever right at that moment. “WHY WON’T THIS MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF GUILLIMAN ASS WORSHIPING CUNT-TRASH FUCKING WORK!!!?” he pondered quietly to himself. This was because the angry marines were rapidly approaching the [[dakka]] limit. They were at the point where they physically couldn’t strap more weapons onto other weapons anymore, despite their general attitude that “PHYSICS IS FOR THOSE [[Mechanicus|TOASTER FUCKERS]]”. This was giving the [[techmarines]], especially Master of the Armoury Mightelypissedoff the Third, quite the headache as they were under increasing pressure from the other angry marines to “FIX A FUCKING FLAMER TO IT YOU CUNT WAZZOCK”. This had resulted in an increased number going to the apothecaries complaining of the illness commonly called “REPEATED BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE BALLS WITH A FUCKING SPANNER”. In order to try and remedy this, Shitfucker started work on a secret project. For years he slaved away in complete silence (silence, that is, for an angry marine. Anyone else would have heard something along the lines of “WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT SCREW GO!!!!? IF SWEAR TO THE [[Emperor of Mankind|BIG FUCKER ON A GOLDEN CHAIR]] THAT IF ONE OF THOSE [[Chaos Gods|NAMBY-PAMBY GHOST BITCHES]] TOOK IT I’LL COME INTO THE WARP MYSELF AND SEE HOW THEY LIKE HAVING A TITAN’S POWER FOOT SHOVED UP THEIR ASS!!!” As with most things, angry marines have a warped sense of volume).
After a millennia, and many test subjects being told “BUCKLE UP CHUCKLE-FUCKS”, his work was done. Shitfucker emerged from his workshop and made his way towards where the chapter master lived. Of course, being stuck in a workshop for a thousand years, many of the newer angry marines didn’t recognise him and so he responded to the many calls of “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU YOU BALD HEADED CUNT!!!?” with a level and reasoned explanation “AND THE REPEATED INTRODUCTION OF THEIR FACE TO MY RIGHT FOOT AND THEN MY LEFT FOOT”. Barging into the command room (A very polite and reverential entrance for an angry marine), Shitfucker held up a power bat. It turned out that Shitfucker had added so much dakka that he had gone right past infinity and ended up with a melee weapon. Temperus Maximus, chapter master of the angry marines and probably the angriest cunt alive or dead, was so impressed that he picked it up and then smashed Shitfucker over the head with it “BECAUSE THE COCKGOBBLING LITTLE GIT INTERRUPTED THE DAILY MY LITTLE PONY VIEWING SESSION”. This blow shattered Shitfucker’s helmet which revealed the terrible cost that developing this weapon had wrought upon him. For when you experiment with dakka, dakka also experiments with you. Shitfucker had become an [[ork]]. The first marine to point this out then proceeded to find out that tens of meters of adamantium and void shielding do little to stop oneself when thrown towards a wall at a significant fraction of the speed of light by a very angry fucker. It was then decided that Shitfucker was indeed angry enough that his minor issue of becoming a xenos could be ignored. Ever since, Shitfucker the Mildly Disgruntled has been absolutely bloody livid alongside the rest of the chapter and all marines have been forbidden to break his denial of the fact that he is an ork “ON PAIN OF FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A POWER CHAIR IS INSERTED INTO THE CRANIAL CAVITY THROUGH THE FACE”.

+++++++

Thought for the day: Most problems can be solved with reason, logic, and the repetitive application of hard objects into soft body parts

+++++++

==The Angry Marine Hall of Awesome Deaths/THE FUCKAWESOME WALL OF DEATH!!!==

During the mid to late 30th millennium it was felt by the Angry Marines that there should be a special way to commemorate their most awesome dead. Angry Marine’s already commemorated their dead via any number of ways, anything from getting blind drunk, to inscribing the fallen’s name on the testicles of a chaos space marine, to something really insane like simply spending five minutes of time they could be using to punch something to instead contemplate the achievements of the dead marine.

But after millennia of Angry Marines finding the most spectacular of ways to die (usually taking their foes with them) it was decided to set aside an entire corridor (admittedly a ten metre high and hundreds of metres long) whereupon the name, means of death and last words of the mostly awesomely fallen marines would be graffitied upon. The list below however, is incomplete as there are still historic deaths yet to be commemorated with yellow spray paint, deaths so ancient that only the silencers know of their occurrence. This fact further complicates the updating of THE FUCKAWESOME WALL OF DEATH!!! as no angry marine can bear sitting down with a silencer to unearth such mysteries.

'''Battle Brother Fuck Sore'''

Died from organ failure brought on by radiation poisoning from using a lump of plutonium on the end of a 2x4 to beat Eldar to death.

Last words: “LOOK, I’VE GROWN ANOTHER FUCKING ARM TO BEAT SHIT WITH!!!”

'''Battle Brother Wang Cheese'''

Died from drinking the blood of a Hive Tyrant after ripping its throat open.

Last words: Unknown, as the acidic blood had destroyed his voice box before he could say anything.

'''Battle Brothers Twice Shat On and Wife Beater Beater'''

Died simultaneously during a pizza eating competition when their stomachs erupted from being filled with a tonne or so of compacted pizza.

Last Words (Wife Beater Beater): “EAT PIZZA AND DIE, MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

'''Servitor D277-89 (SHIT CLEANER)'''

Died from infections brought on by using its internal machinery to compact collected waste to fire at a boarding party of Chaos Space Marines.

Last Words (translated from binary): “Who cleaneth up the shit now?!”

'''Private Guant Bait'''

Died from wounds sustained fighting of ten Bloodletters using only a lasgun and bayonet.

Last Words: “AFFIX BAYONETS, BITCHES!”

'''Battle Brother Cunt Brained'''

Died from wounds inflicted by a Tau plasma rifle. Cunt Brained ran a mile under constant plasma fire by the Tau wielding the weapon to then beat the xeno over the head with said weapon.

Last words: “WHERE’S THAT COVER-CAMPING TWAT?!!! I’ll SHOVE HIS GUN UP HIS FUCKING ARSE!!!”

'''Captain World Defiler'''

Died while doing the chainsword swallowing trick (upon death he had three down his throat). His death occurred when he could not suppress a sneeze, resulting in the complete mulching of his insides.

Last Words: “I BET YOU I CAN SWALLOW SIX OF THE FUCKING THINGS!!!”

'''Techmarine Binary Bitch'''

Died while experimenting how much dakka a Marine could use at once. He had managed to rig up a suit of Terminator armour with:
*Four Storm Bolters (two on each arm).
*Two Assault Cannons (one on each arm).
*Six Flamers (two on each leg and two on his back).
*Two missile racks (as opposed to the usual one).
*One Hurricane Bolter (chest mounted).
Unfortunately for Binary Bitch, he did not take into account the immense amount of recoil all the guns would produce, and while the Terminator armour's structural integrity was sufficient to hold all the guns in place (admittedly only after locking up the joints) the recoil was enough to pulp the Marine after a minute. It was concluded by the other Techmarines however that, with better armour, that a single Marine could carry twice as much dakka.

Last Words: Unheard of the noise of all the dakka and awesome, but it was agreed by all that they must have been some spectacular last words.

'''Black Brother Captain Turds of Fury'''

Died from having a bucket of water thrown at him. Although physically unharmed it is believed that Black Brothers eventually consider themselves constantly on fire, making water psychologically lethal to them.

Last Words: “I’M MELTING!!! I’M FUCKING MELTING!!!”

'''Battle Brother Ballknocker'''

Died while surfing a Landspeeder down a mountain whilst beating the shit out of an Ork Waaagh! that was advancing onto said mountain. He cut through all the Orks, until in a singularly glorious act of defiance, he yanked his power foot off, and flung it at the Warboss' truck. The resulting explosion knocked Ballknocker off a cliff, and moments before he died he had taken a Nob by the horn and crammed a bolt pistol down his throat.

Last Words: "EAT BOLTGUN YOU FAGGY EXCUSE FOR A BITCH!!!"

'''Seargent Shit Bucket'''

Died from jumping out of the battle barge MAXIMIUM FUCK while in orbit to smash into a Greater Daemon of Khorne, who was refusing to die until someone came down to the planet's surface to fight it.

Last Words: Nothing, as Shit Bucket was a Terminator Captain and thus never spoke while he was alive.

'''Commissar Pleb Organiser'''

Died from executing a heretical psyker with her bolt pistol. Upon death the psyker opened up a warp rift which allowed a Keeper of Secrets to enter reality. Pleb Organiser then executed the Greater Daemon while it was still transitioning, but died from multiple orgasms.

Last Words: Incoherent pleased noises and gunshots.

'''Battle Brother Knife Ears Shitter'''

Died trying to enter into single combat with a Necron Lord with only a chainsword. Despite being desperately outmatched Knife Ears Shitter survived five minutes of combat before having his atoms wrought asunder, just enough time for an Angry Marine launcher to get into position and start pounding the Necron Lord with pissed off Battle Brothers.

Last Words: “THE BASTARD’S STILL USING 7TH EDITION RULES!!! I’M IN WITH A FUCKING CHANCE!!!”

'''Battle Brother Mister Dakka Man'''

Died after using all of his Angrytalon Gunship’s ammunition fighting Fighta Bommas and deciding to use his craft to ram the remaining other planes.

Last Words: “DAKKADAKKADAKKA, MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

'''Apothecary “YOUR NOT DYING ON MY FUCKING WATCH!!!'''

Died bringing a Dreadnought back to life. Upon bringing it back to life the Apothecary was immediately punched on reflex by the Dreadnought, upon which the Apothecary shot the Dreadnought to death, also on reflex. Unfortunately for FUCKING WATCH, he had been trained mercilessly to revive his Battle Brothers, so brought the Dreadnought back to life, to only get punched and then shoot the Dreadnought. This continued until the poor Apothecary was pulped to death by the Dreadnought's claw.

Last words: “THIS HURTS ME MORE THAN IT FUCKING HURTS YOU!!! (BLAM)”

= List of Things the Angry Marines Hate With a Passion =
<center>[[Image:Angry_Marine_Desktop.jpg|800px]]</center>

There are very few things that the Angry Marines actually like. There's the [[Emprah]], of course, along with [[cats]], Honey Badgers (when said badgers aren’t biting their balls off) and possibly skittles. Angry Marines are also said to have a predilection for energy drinks, pizza and most anything resembling a [[choppa|cudgel]]. They hate the [[Iron Hands]] slightly less due to their intense self-hate and anger.

However, while the Angry Marines may hate pretty much everything else, there are also those things that will cause any regular Angry Marine to fly into an unfathomable berserker rage in mere seconds:

*[[Abaddon]] - He's a plot-armoured wanker who simply won't fuck off.

*The [[Eldar]]/[[Dark Eldar]]/[[Elf|Anything related to elves]] - The regular spehss elves are stuck up, plot fucking faggots, the drug-addled spehss elfs are dickish, literal plot fucking faggots, and elves in general are just prissy, plot fucking faggots. Ergo, FUCK THOSE CUNTS!!!

*The [[Tau]] - Weeaboo cock suckers who “JUST KEEP FUCKING RUNNING AWAY FROM MELEE THE FUCKING PUSSIES!!! THAT AND THEY HAVE VAGINAS FOR FOREHEADS!!!

*The [[Ultramarines]] - They hate the Ultramarines for being a bunch of pompous douchebags / Mary Sues (may also hate the colour blue, which makes sense since blue is said to be a calming color and this is the "Angry Marines" we're talking about).

*[[Pretty Marines]]/[[Chaos Pretty Marines]] - They're a chapter of faggots and the ones who defected to Chaos makes them DOUBLE FAGGOTS!!!

*[[Emperor's Children]] - They're a chapter of faggots who defected to Chaos and still bear the name of the Emprah. TRIPLE FAGGOTS!!!

*[[Furries]] - Daemonspawn of Slaanesh.

*[[necron]] - BECAUSE IF I FUCKING TEAR YOU INTO PIECES YOU CAN'T JUST STAND UP AGAIN!!!!
STAY DEAD, DICKSUCKING SHITFUCKIGN XENO!!!

*Anything [[Slaanesh|Slaaneshi]] - Slaanesh is the God of all that is faggotry in the Warhammer 40,000 universe.

*[[Chaos]] as a whole - CHAOS IS FAKE AND GAY, GET OUT, STOP TALKING, FUCK. YOU.

*Going to the planets [[Fenris]] and [[Valhalla]], for no other reason than THEY'RE FUCKING COLD. SON OF A BITCH.

*[[Avatar]] - Two and a half hours of furfaggotry in 3D is still two and a half hours of furfaggotry. Besides, furries are Slaaneshi, and Slaanesh is HERESY!

*All the Highlander sequels

*Battletoads - The original game that the Angry Marines Primarch had with him inside his stasis capsule. Is still unbeaten to this day.

*[[EA]] - for being faggoty ass dick suckers that also suck the life out of other games developers.

*[[Matthew Ward]] - Self-explanatory.

*[[Grey Knights]]- A bunch of fucking Mary Sues who think they know what REAL hatred of daemons is.

*[[Reddit]] - Have the nerve to steal all the good memes from 4chan, make them as unfunny as possible, and then shit them all over the rest of the Internet claiming they came up with them in the first place. They're also EMPRAH-DAMNED EVERYWHERE, THE RETARDED FUCKS.

*[[World Eaters]] - What they try to pass off as 'anger' is really just male insecurity in the extreme.

*[[Primarch|Traitor primarchs]] - CHAOS FAGGOTS like the daemon primarchs who hide from the ANGRY MARINES in the Warp and won't even show up to get their testicles kicked up between their ears are the worst kind of pansy-ass CHAOSFAGGOTS.

*[[Thousand Sons]] - They are CHAOS WORSHIPPERS, worship Tzeentch and THEY ARE FUCKING PSYKERS (which are basically faggots with greater range (but the emprah is a psyker... could it be that you are calling the emperor a long range faggot? well... ARE YOU?!?! I'LL KICK SO HARD IN THE ASS, THAT YOU WILL ORBIT THE SUN IN A FRACTION OF A SECOND. YOU PUSSY ASS CHAOS WORSHIPING FAGGOT). That makes them TRIPLE FAGGOTS,too.

*Bad grammar, because IF YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING SCREAM YOU CAN FUCKING DO IT RIGHT (WHERE IS YOUR PUNCTUATION, YOU ANAL BITING, DONKEY RAPING FUCK-TARD? THERE SHOULD BE A FUCKING COMMA HERE INSTEAD OF THIS INTERJECTION, YOU HYPOCRITICAL ASS!) YOU BASTARD!!!

*Smuckers Uncrustables - You spend twenty years on a voidship, the Skittles ran out seventeen years ago, and all you have is Uncrustables AND I GUARAN-GODDAMN-TEE THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO RAPE YOURSELF WITH A BAND SAW TOO, YOU NURGLE HUMPING FAG!

* Facebook - if it isn't immediately obvious why, then they fucking hate you too. No Angry Marine ever needs to know how many minutes it is until your shuttle reaches St Sebastian's world.

*[[Age of Sigmar]] - Because why play as a single cohesive army when you can have it split up into five different mini-factions with no synergy? A never-ending way to recharge your fucking RAGE.

* The finale of Star Trek Enterprise - Captain Archer made some pretty fucking excellent speeches at times, but the grandest, the greatest, the ultimate... well, in the words of Captain Fucktious Twatsplasher, "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE ENDING YOU RETARDED, INBRED, STINKING, BRAINLESS, SOULLESS, DICK-GARGLING PAIR OF FUCKING FAGLORDS?!!!!!!" Many scribes died that day.

+++++++ 

Thought for the day: If something is worth doing, it's worth overdoing!

+++++++

= Things the Angry Marines wish for =

There are some things the Angry Marines desire to happen, and if they did, it would make them slightly less angry, but nowhere nearly enough to make them less destructive. These include:

* A good [[Warhammer Fantasy]] RTS that approaches Dawn of War's quality <s>(heads up, the guys behind Total War are apparently heading up something that looks promising)</s> FUCK THAT! THOSE INEPT COCKSUCKING DICKWITS AT SEGA WENT AND MADE CHAOS A FUCKING DLC PREORDER BONUS! NOT THAT ANYBODY'S DUMB ENOUGH TO PLAY CHAOS, IT JUST SETS A POOR CUNTING PRECEDENT {{Blam|That is heretical nonsense, only Chaos worshippers like that nonsense}}

* A [[Doom]] movie made in the style of the doom comic, preferably with Bruce Campbell as the Doom Marine (Groovy!)

*[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjIVkl34Vig song dedicated to Honorary Angry Marine, Doom Guy]

* <s>Better endings for Mass Effect 3, preferably restoring Drew Karpyshyn's original Dark Energy ending</s>. The Extended Ending made them a bit less angry, then the skubstorm known as Mass Effect: Andromeda made them angrier than ever, cancelling this out.

* A good [[Dungeons and Dragons]] movie

* All loyalists, especially them, being upgraded Power Fists to Chainfists for free.

* [[Samus]], she who ruins worlds every time of month (or every time Space pirates show up, Emperor help the Piratical Xeno who meets her during her time of the month) is an inspiration to Angry marines everywhere.

* Warhammer, both versions, story actually going somewhere and not being stuck in status quo. [[The End Times]] is good progress on that...until [[Rocks fall, everyone dies|the Chaos Gods raped the world]] and then [[Age of Sigmar]] happened. At least 40k managed well [[Great Rift|on that]], but then, [[Primaris Space Marines|numarines]]...

* A Warhammer 40K space shooter flight sim game. This kinda happened with Aeronautica Imperialis: Flight Command and may happen with Dakka Squadron depending on how it is made.

* Being a canon chapter.
**Although they’ll accept a printed copy of their codex, scrolling through rules mid battle on your phone make the Angry Marines very Angry.

* Having [[Anime|cabbits]] as pets, and the cabbits knowing how to turn into battle barges.

* To beat the shit out of all Squat and non-Squat players

* The executives at [[Games Workshop]]'s heads all mounted on sticks

* Neither of these, actually. BECAUSE ANGRY MARINES ARE NOT YOUR PERSONAL CHAPTER, FAGGOT!

*The head of anyone who’s a dick for no good reason, as being a dick for no good reason is tzeentch worship and therefore HERESEY!!!
**Although overly Angry and aggressive, the Angry Marines would actually be a beacon of hope for the Imperium as they actually give a shit about people (not using people for target practice or guardsmen as human shields), which means that (ironically) they’re one of the least grimdark parts of 40k.
*Matt Ward to retire and never return. BECAUSE THAT GUY IS GARBAGE, PITSNIFFERS!!

*Yet more Space Marine models of all kinds to be released at the expense of other factions, aka BUSINESS AS FUCKING USUAL, TOSSERS!

*A 40k VR game that let's you punch Xeno pussies in the face IN 3D!
**This one might in the works in Battle Sister, an Oculus game controlling the furious Bolter Bitches. The quality of the final product is unknown

=The Angry Marine Lexicon=
On the surface of things, Angry Marine speech and language may seem incredibly simple, containing a large number of (and sometimes containing nothing but) curse words. However, this superficiality can hide (sometimes that is, other times they may literally just be saying FUCK!!!") a deeper meaning and subtly almost paradoxical to their brute appearance.

==Grammar and Punctuation==
*CAPS LOCK: Used to define rank with Angry Marine “society” as a whole. In general, Serfs and the like will speak in lower case, with the exceptions being commissars and tech priests when they become very pissed off because something very expensive and rare has been broken, while normal Angry Marines and up will ALWAYS (AND I MEAN FUCKING ALWAYS) speak in caps lock, even in the presence of a Silencer.

*Exclamation marks (!): The only real punctuation the Angry Marines use, Serfs and the like will usually use none or one, while your standard marine will always use at least one, usually three. From there, the number of additional exclamation marks increases with the amount of rage, with the usual jump being from 3 to 6/7. Beyond that however the exclamation marks blurr into a continuous stream of punctuation, and such use is only really used in war cry’s and in sentences where all the words have blurred into one.

*Comma (,): A rarely used piece of punctuation, as pausing while speaking when you could instead just vomit up your speech like a pyrovore vomits acidic flames is frowned upon.

==Words==
*'''Fuck (Noun, Verb, Adjective, Adverb, Pronoun, Preposition, Conjunctive, Determination, Exclamation):'''
:The most commonly used word in the Angry Marines possession, in someways it defines their very existence and purpose in the galaxy, and for such an important word it has a suitably large array of meanings and uses. It is also the only word which the Angry Marines draw out to express different meanings (exclamations will not be shown here but are an integral part to the word fuck):
:*'''FUCK (by itself):'''
::A general expletive and most commonly used form of the word fuck, can be used in any number of contexts, for example, an Angry Marine walks into the canteen and sees that there is no pizza left, he might shout FUCK as a general sign of annoyance. On the flip side, one Angry Marine might say to another "THE WEATHER IS FUCKING LOVELY TODAY ISN'T IT?" and the other might reply "FUCK" in general agreement. As such, it is always important to pay attention to the context in which a single and lone "FUCK" is uttered, especially as lone angry marines may just shout fuck at random, just so that they don't get bored.
::*In addition, it is important to note that an Angry Marines rank will also determine (to a certain extent) the context of a fuck, as higher ranking angry marines (ie. angrier angry marines) are more likely to use the word fuck in a more aggressive manner.
:*'''FUCK (with other words):'''
::Simplifies the matter of understanding whether a fuck is uttered in a positive, negative or passive manner, for example, "YOU FUCKING IDIOT" is a general sign of annoyance, while "FUCK MAXIMUS IS COMING" is a sign of respect and a warning to others.
:*'''Fuuuuuuuuuuck:'''
::An angrier fuck, generally used by itself as a general expletive but still short enough to be uttered quickly.
:*'''FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCK:'''
::An even angrier fuck, defined by the addition of extra c's, making it much longer to say compared to just adding extra u's and therefore a much angrier expletive.
:*'''FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCK:'''
::The addition of additional FFFFFF's is a sign that the speaker has gone from simply furious to downright livid, especially as the marine in question may decide mid speaking to upgrade his FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCK to a FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUU...
:*'''FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUU...:'''
::Generally uttered at the beginning, middle and end of a charge, and is a general sign that your ass is about to be handed to you, in a million pieces. An expression of purest hatred and fury, non angry marines should preferably be in another sector when they hear this noise, and the angry marine making the noise will only stop screaming (like the word wargh, no self respecting angry marine would ever just speak FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUU...) once his rage or the object of his rage has been vented/dealt with.

*'''Bitch:'''
::A lighter swear word used at low anger levels, and is used as a greeting in polite conversation, for example, an angry marine might politely announce the arrival of another angry marines they like with the phrase “NOT THIS BITCH AGAIN”.

*'''Cunt/Dick (Noun, Verb, Adjective, Adverb, Pronoun, Preposition, Conjunctive, Determination, Exclamation):'''
::An insult which refers to the general groin/genital region of a being anatomy, and therefore a prime target for a kick. It can however be used as a general directive, for example, "GO FUCKING PUNCH THAT CUNT" could be used as a direction to inflict grievous bodily harm via a strike to their genital region, but it's usually used as a general attack order with the additional implication that the target is also, say, an Ultramarine.

*'''Ultracunt, blueberry, ultrasmurf etc:'''
::A general derogatory word for ultramarine/s, all of which imply that the ultramarines are inferior in some/all ways. Most words/phrase can be made this way by simply adding “ultra” to the beginning of them, as long as said word is neutral or derogatory.

*'''Shit, crap, bullshit:'''
:A derogatory word for waste matter, used prolifically (the word, not the waste matter) to imply that a situation or person is somewhat lacking or disappointing, for example “THIS PINT TASTES LIKE SHIT!!!”

*'''Weeaboo, Weeb:'''
:Specifically refers to the Tau (or any being belonging to the T'au Empire), also generally used to describe someone who uses Tau tactics (e.g, not charging at the enemy).

*'''[[That Guy]]:'''
::A general cunt etc, but refers more so to the person in question being a terrible person, while a cunt isn't necessarily a terrible person.

*'''Toaster:'''
:A derogatory word for a machine or those who maintain them, in the latter example is is usually followed by the word fucker as well for added implication.

*'''[[Neckbeard]]:'''
:Not a commonly used insult in the 42nd millennium, but generally refers to the poor grooming habits/troglodyte nature of/absent social skills of something.

*'''Wardian prick, cunt, bastard etc:'''
:A normal insult, but with the prefix of “wardian” etc, which magnifies the insults effect by invoking the [[Matt Ward|name of the foulest being in the galaxy.]]

==Angry Marine Name Generator==
Like all humans, Angry Marines have a birth name given by their parents. But usually these babies are fucking annoying and have to be disposed of. Angry Marines maintain Chapels of the Emperor in his Aspect as the Self-Righteous Customer Served Dry Steak just for these kinds of babies. Usually the children have card identifying the reason the child was discarded like the FUCKING TRASH THEY ARE, but they rarely give better descriptions than "Little Shitfuck," "Lazy Ass Bastard Shits His Pants," "Worthless Quadruple Malt Distilled Shitwater." While these may seem like great names, when children are chosen to join the Chapter they get new names to symbolize their new life and because not all of them can be called "Fucking Lazy Ass Won't Clean His Room!

After years of learning how to speak Angry, many Initiates choose their own name, other times they have names gifted to them by senior marines, and sometimes everyone is just too angry to be bothered. In those cases this rubric is used to determine their name using 2d6 for first and last. An optional middle name is 1d6.

{| class="wikitable"
! First Name !! !! Middle Name !! !! Surname !!
|-
! 11
| Chunk || 1 || Leslie || 11 || McFuck
|-
! 12
| Slab || 2 || Courtney || 12 || Asscrush
|-
! 13
| Rip || 3 || Ashley || 13 || Breakface
|-
! 14
| Crunch || 4 || Stacey || 14 || Von Dicksmash
|-
! 15
| Bolt || 5 || Jordan || 15 || De Lividius
|-
! 16
| Io || 6 || || 16 || Fleming
|-
! 21
| Hack || || || 21 || McShitstain
|-
! 22
| Stabby || || || 22 || Stomachabundus
|-
! 23
| Smash || || || 23 || O'CAPSLOCK
|-
! 24
| Blast || || || 24 || Kawacocktwist
|-
! 25
| Buff || || || 25 || Fuckworth
|-
! 26
| Punch || || || 26 || Zhāng Sān Lǐ Sì
|-
! 31
| Lance || || || 31 || Smith
|-
! 32
| Billegerient || || || 32 || dàn téng
|-
! 33
| Iratus || || || 33 || commotus
|-
! 34
| Dementer || || || 34 || Faire le Con
|-
! 35
| Furiouse || || || 35 || Groinslap
|-
! 36
| Enojado || || || 36 || Cornhole
|-
! 41
| Aplastar || || || 41 || Cuntbridge-Stewart
|-
! 42
| Crujido || || || 42 || Une Civil
|-
! 43
| Overcooked || || || 43 || DeMierda
|-
! 44
| Kuharibu || || || 44 || Enfoiré
|-
! 45
| Ikaanguka || || || 45 || GifleSalope
|-
! 46
| Wreck || || || 46 || Herpeslip
|-
! 51
| Stumpy || || || 51 || Snarlington
|-
! 52
| Facebreak || || || 52 || ConBust'em
|-
! 53
| Havoc || || || 53 || Shitonashitsammich
|-
! 54
| Torpedo || || || 54 || Grocerybill
|-
! 55
| Lick || || || 55 || Roommate
|-
! 56
| Froth || || || 56 || Houserepair
|-
! 61
| Tetchy || || || 61 || incuntvenience
|-
! 62
| Inflamed || || || 62 || Ballslappinstien-Snatch
|-
! 63
| Shitsnacks || || || 63 || Chupa-Tumadre
|-
! 64
| Damn || || || 64 || Von Poopants
|-
! 65
| Fucksnacks || || || 65 || Brokenface
|-
! 66
| Dave || || || 66 || Ward
|}

= See Also/Notable Angry Marine personnel =
*[[Commissar Fuklaw]]
*[[Badasious|Inquisitor Badasious]]
*[[Angry Marine-Bomb]]
*Sergeant El'Jackson
*[[Temperus Maximus|Chapter Master Temperus Maximus]]
*[[Belligerent Engine]]
*[[Captain Titus]], an honorary Angry Marine in spite of being an [[Ultramarines|Ultrasmurf]]
*[[Mephiston]], also honorary, so angry he's calm
*[[Gabriel Seth]], DOUBLE honorary because that angry bastard is a crazy ball-busting killer
*[[Avitus]]
*The Hulk, he's always angry!
*[[Doom|the doom slayer]] (who might be there real primarch)
*[[Tyberos the Red Wake]] that mad man is TRIPLE honorary because he is so angry he makes no sound and is a master of [[rip and tear]].
*Dirty Harry
*[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67082yuPZ9o Angry Joe] Leads his own division of Angry Marines known as the Angry Army.
*[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1tU61Nyv1w The Angry Video Game Nerd], a typical Angry Marine Techmarine
*[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq7Vj3GMd1M&list=FLwvNufI5OJpxjH7BPfV0m_w Common Angry Marine marching cadence]
*[[Khador| Orsus Zoktavir]]
*[[Transformers|Grimlock]], his [[Rage]] is more powerful than programming built into him meant to restrain him. Also, he's a robot dinosaur.
*Lucky The Foul Xenos Cat
*Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, rumor has it he is Commissar Fuklaw's brother (or an ancestor, even though the late Sgt R. Lee Ermey, who played Hartmann, considered Hartmann a failure of a sergeant)
*[[Codex - Angry Custodes]]
*Head serf Chef Gordon Ramsey, the only man angry enough to cook for the Angry Marines, although they consider him to be a pansy.
*Malcolm Tucker, Administratum liaison to the Angry Marines, the only one deranged enough to treat with them. They even speak the same language.
* korland slaughter Maximus thane and the last wall during the war of the beast because oh because they where action heroes especially those two
*logan grammar and the space wolves for Armageddon
* roboute gulliman and Dante plus the god or emperor of man kind and other loyalest primarchs beacuse we don,t want to get in trouble plus eccecarchs umburto II and sabaston Thor such legends
* helbracts and the black templers brothers .

= Gallery =

<center><gallery>
File:EWW XENOS.jpeg|EWW XENOS
[[File:Temperus Maximus.png]]
Image:Angrymarines8.jpg|DO. NOT. PISS. OFF.(Even if they are piss-coloured)
Image:Angry_7.jpg|The [[Dreadnought|Dreadnoughts]] of the Angry Marines are known better within the chapter as the [[Belligerent Engine|Belligerent Engines]]
Image:Original angry marines.jpg|In 1st Edition, [[beakie|ALL Marines]] were Angry Marines.
Image:Angrymarines tzeentch.jpg|The Angry Marines fuck up [[Tzeentch]]'s shit.
Image:Angry Marine Smackdown.jpg|Angry Marines vs [[Kharn]].
Image:angrynerdrage.png|fffuuu--
File:BelligerentEngines.jpg|WHERE'S YOUR GOD NOW YOU CHAOS FAGGOTS?
File:Brother Ripfist.png|FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC, BUT MAGIC IS [[HERESY]]!
Image:Angry_marine_with_flag.jpg|Huh? Huh? WHERE?
Image:Angrymarines7.jpg|FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-
Image:IMPATIENTMARINES.jpg|There is NOTHING more badass than a pissed-off Angry Marine.
Image:Angrymotivator.jpg|Always angry, all the time.
Image:KILLITWITHFIREYOUFUCKS.jpg|Not shown offscreen: pack of furries being sent straight to Hell.
Image:1218823369945.jpg|You'll be so angry Chaos will be all like "slooooooow dooooooown", and you'll be like "FUCK YOU" and kick Chaos in the face with your POWER FEET!
Image:FUCKINGANGRY.jpg|RAAAAAAAGEEE!
Image:ANGRY_TITAN.jpg|YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT WE'VE GOT A [[Legio Ruina|TITAN LEGION]].
Image:ANGRY-LCB.jpg|Angry Marine haet LCB.
Image:ANGRY_MINI.jpg|ANGRY TABLETOP ASSKICKING TIME.
Image:ANGRY-TAU.jpg|Angry Marine haet Tau.
Image:AM_WHAT.png|I'M CONFUSED. CONFUSION MAKES ME ANGRY!
Image:Sisters_of_anger2.png|Yeah. It's a [[Female Space Marines|fucked-up Rule 63 version]].
Image:AngryMarine9.jpg|Masters of improvised weaponry.
Image:AngryMarine10.jpg|The core thought process of an Angry Marine depicted through the ANGRY METER.
Image:Chapter Master Leonidas.jpg|The Angry Marines are more badass than the guys in 300. Why? Because those guys LOST.
Image:AngryMarineModels.jpg|DID YOU [[THIN YOUR PAINTS]]? YOU BETTER HAVE THINNED YOUR GODDAMN PAINTS.
Image:AM_WHATMUTHERFUCKER.png|NOW I'M FUCKING PISSED OFF!
Image:Predator_angrinator.PNG|The dreaded Predator ''Angrinator''.
Image:Angry_n_cultist1.jpg|Cultist-chan versus the Angry Marine - Part1
Image:Angry_n_cultist2.jpg|Cultist-chan versus the Angry Marine - Part2
Image:Angry_n_cultist3.jpg|Cultist-chan versus the Angry Marine - Part3
Image:Hell_Yeah_by_Gannadene.jpg|And THIS is how you take out a fat slobbering cunt like Nurgle!
Image:Angry_dread.jpg|Gah, they just won't stay dead!
File:1289451061673.jpg|FUCK YEA!
Image:Lolcron3.jpg|They hate playing against Necrons.
Image:AMLMkIV.jpg|FOR THE EMPRA'!
File:Dan_angry.jpg|Well it COULD be gayer...
Image:Angry_2.png
Image:Angry_FOK.png
Image:Angry_gets_shit_done.jpg|[[/tg/ gets shit done]]
Image:Angry_5.png
Image:Angry_Dreadnaught.jpg|FFFFFFFFFF- WHO THE FUCK UPLOADED THIS!? IT'S A FUCKING BELLIGERENT ENGINE, YOU FUCK!!
Image:Angry.jpg|An Angry Marines Belligerent Engine fucking up the [[Pretty Marines]]
Image:Librarian_moarfistin_the_extremely_cross_by_vyler-d4fppg6(single_pose).jpg|Librarian Moarfistin the Extremely Cross
Image:Angry 3.jpg
Image:Angry 4.jpg
Image:Angry_Marines_by_wolvesofruss.jpg
Image:Angry_Marine_by_KillaKatana.jpg|Maximum FUCK
File:Folding_chair.jpg|Original file was 1280x2304px of pure win. But the fucking site wouldn't upload it! Original at: http://j.mp/p3jxvI
File:Yourwingmen.jpg|Fanart with Angry Marine and Necron. Possibly from [[HS40K]].
File:Librarian_moarfistin_the_extremely_cross_by_vyler.jpg|Librarian Moarfistin, of the Angry Marines. Read more about him [[Angry_Marines#Librarian_Moarfistin.2C_the_Extremely_Cross|above]].
File:Angry marine in the kitchen.jpg|I thought I told you to get the fuck out of my kitchen
File:Angry doom.PNG|"Now bend over and [[RAPE|TAKE YOUR FUCKING MEDICINE]]".
File:Jet-Propelled-Rage-Dispenser.jpg|Deep striking never felt so good.
File:AngryMarinesCommandSquad.jpg|From the creator of the [[Unyuufex]] comes the Angry Marines Command Squad!
</gallery></center>

=External Links=
*[[Codex - Angry Marines 8th Edition]]
*[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0puigjMynxs/ ANGRY MARINES FUCK SHIT UP]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/2753800/ ANGRY MARINES CODEX UPDATED!]
*[http://www.2shared.com/document/vtES35CD/CodexAngryMarines.html old ANGRY MARINES CODEX IN A CONVENIENT PDF!]
*[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWIIdx483OE/ ANGRY MARINES NATIONAL ANTHEM!]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/7931028/images/1265355377893.jpg ANGRY MARINES DO A QUEST]
*[http://angry-marines.spreadshirt.com/ ANGRY MARINES SHIRT STORE!]
*[http://warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:Algrim_Whitefang/Angry_Marines ANGRY MARINES 40KWIKIBLOG. COPIED RIGHT FROM THIS PAGE. COCKNUGGET!]
*[http://www.mediafire.com/?m2861ceymxuvrbz Angry Marine Codex]
*[http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/323271.page Forum thread where poster showcases a kick-ass collection of Angry Marine customized models including vehicles]
*[https://www.shapeways.com/marketplace/games/tabletop-wargaming?q=Angry+Marines&sort=&facet%5BpdcId%5D%5B%5D=564&facet%5BpdcId%5D%5B%5D=655&facet%5BpdcId%5D%5B%5D=570&facet%5Bprice%5D%5Bmin%5D=1&facet%5Bprice%5D%5Bmax%5D=2500&facet%5Bprice%5D%5Bfrom%5D=1&facet%5Bprice%5D%5Bto%5D=2500 Angry Marines custom bits from Shapeways!] Unfortunately, the search caught some irrelevant pieces as well.
*[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWIIdx483OE/ Angry Marines theme song]

[[Category:Imperial]][[Category:Warhammer 40,000]][[Category:Space Marines]][[Category:Awesome]][[Category:Stories]][[Category:Stories/Warhammer 40,000]] [[Category:Warhammer Homebrew]][[Category:/tg/ 40,000]]

Angry Marines

2021-03-04T23:44:55Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D: /* See Also/Notable Angry Marine personnel */

{{awesome}}

<center>'''ANGRY MARINES!!! ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!'''
'''FUCKING SCREAM IT YOU XENOSFUCKING, ULTRASHIT-LOVING FUCKTARD!!!'''</center>
<center>[[File:Angry marine battle against chaos demons.jpeg|800px]]</center>
{{Infobox Spess Mahreen Chapter
|Name = Angry Marines
|Heraldry = [[Image:Angry Marines SP.png|center|250px]]
|Battle Cry = ALWAYS ANGRY!!!!! ALL THE TIME!!!!!
|Number = ANGER CAN NEVER BE QUANTIFIED!!! But somewhere between Space Wolves and Pre Heresy legion.
|Founding = None/Unknown
|Successors of = [[Desert Fangs]]
|Successor Chapters = None
|Chapter Master = [[Temperus Maximus]]
|Primarch = [[Rachnus Rageous]]
|Homeworld = [[Ultramar|Angrymar / McRage]]/spaceborne
|Specialty = Close combat and assault with an overwhelming excess of brutality and profanity.
|Strength = 10.001 More than 1000 marines
|Allegiance = [[Imperium]] ('''AND DON'T YOU FUCKING FORGET IT, SHITFAG''')
|Colours = Bright yellow with a blood-red trim.
}}
[[Image:Angry Marine.jpg|thumb|right|GODMOTHERFUCKINGEMPERORPRAISEDBEHISNAMEDAMMIT!!]]

{{Topquote|In any society, fanatics who hate don't hate only me - they hate you, too. They hate everybody.|Elie Wiesel}}

{{Topquote|When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear.|Mark Twain}}

{{Topquote|JUST HIT THE FUCKERS!!!|Chapter Master Temperus Maximus when asked what’s written in the Codex Angry Marines}}

The '''Angry Marines''' are, in essence, what would likely happen if /tg/ [[Mary Sue|could magically turn themselves into Spess Mehreens]] and express their opinions towards [[Matt Ward|certain]] [[Robin Cruddance|aspects]] [[CS Goto|of]] the canon of 40K (and people who quote this exact line at the beginning of lore videos on the Angry Marines). They were in fact created by some guy using the Dawn of War army painter in ye olden days of yore <s>(suspected to be "Angry Joe")</s>. They are not the Alpha Legion; they symbolize the fa/tg/uy's love for 40K, as well as rage... Which /tg/ has in copious, albeit impotent, amounts.

The Angry Marines are a popular /tg/ homebrew Chapter of [[Space Marines]], and by far the most famous homebrew to gain fame outside the realm of /tg/. They are angry for the [[Emprah]] and skittles. All the time. Angry Marine tactics focus on getting into melee as quickly as possible, and proceeding to bust open several crates of [[Rage|FUCK YOU]] in the various directions of the Imperium's enemies. Due to this, Angry Marines tend to have low BS (by low, we mean Ork boy low), but have terrifically high WS/S/I, meaning anyone getting into CQC would be [[RIP_AND_TEAR|utterly annihilated]].

There is a [[Codex - Angry Marines: /tg/'s 9th Edition|9th edition Angry Marines codex]] you can use. The current iteration has come a long way since 7th edition, and hopefully won’t be a complete and utter mess.

The Angry Marines employ a variety of weapons notably different to the standard Space Marine arsenal. These include power heavy bolters (for melee and ranged use), dual power fists, power feet, power bats, power wrenches, 2 by 4 adamantium planks with a nail forced through them and even the Predator Angrinator, a modified version of the Predator Whirlwind artillery tank that fires the Angry Marines themselves directly into the enemy ranks. They also possess a [[Legio Ruina|Titan Legion]], which is fully comprised of Angry Titans. These are detailed in Codex: ANGRY MARINES. The Angry Marines also think that pistols are for faggots who can't hit anything worth a damn, and so these marines rarely go into battle with the traditional ''pistol+CCW'' combo, opting instead to engage opponents in mêlée combat. Even when not in combat, the Angry Marines are so goddamn angry that even the words of their out-loud speech seem to be made with the CAPS LOCK key left on and with at least three exclamation marks at the end of each sentence.

A lot of this is due to the fact that Space Marines feel emotions with a strength that normal people cannot even comprehend. The Angry Marines simply bypass the normal emotional range, allowing them to feel rage to an extent that leaves other Space Marines entirely speechless. You think you've ever been angry? The most rage you've ever felt is like a minor annoyance compared to what an Angry Marine feels all the time.

At present, the prevailing belief is that, like the faggoty-ass [[Pretty Marines]], the Angry Marines are a First Founding Chapter and used to be the Second Legion. However, due to [[Roboute Guilliman|Rowboat Girlyman]] accidentally hitting the backspace key when he meant to copy and paste something while typing up the Codex Astartes, the Second Legion was struck from official records, as the Eleventh Legion was. Thus most of the Imperium, and indeed the Galaxy at large, doesn't know about them, even though they are not classified as secret in any way, shape, or form.

Should an Inquisitor ever find a planet to be rife with [[Heresy|HERESY]], the people of that world (as well as many of the adjacent ones) better hope that the nearest Chapter Fleet isn't one from the Angry Marines. Very often, the resultant fallout of their measures to purge Heresy results not only in the absolute destruction of the world where said Heresy was first detected, but all things within 10 sub-sector radius as well. Such fruits may be borne by the Angry Marines by, for example, ramming battle barge after battle barge upon the very surface of the world itself. The Angry Marines are however not fans of Exterminatus, seeing it as a wasted opportunity to punch heretics in the face, but it does result in some [[Ashes of Yggdrasil|unfortunate engagements]] where they would have been far better off nuking the site from orbit.

The most astonishing thing about the Angry Marines is that they need no testosterone to be in as foul a mood as they are. Despite the fact that - like all other Space Marines - their ability to produce sex hormones is completely removed as part of their induction, they are still very much able to act as if their blood was all replaced with testosterone. [[Just as planned]].

= The Angry Marines =

Varied as the many accounts of the Angry Marines are, some tend to shed more light on their nature than others and are thus recollected here. Among such tales you will find stories of titanic battles, the origin of the Chapter´s relics, biographies of key personnel, and (of course) lots of swearing. If you, after reading this, would like to join the Angry Marines, first get some help, then call 420-6969-FUCKOFF

== The Guardsman's "Saviors" ==

Guardsman "Church" of the 8th Cadian regiment was stranded with his battalion on an unknown planet surrounded by hordes of Chaos traitors. Church was almost certain he was going to die today. Nevertheless, he stood strong, unshaken by the hordes of the damned. Inspired by the presence of his Commissar, his focus held strong Aim, Fire. Aim, Fire. Aim, Fire. Church's battalion, or what was left of it, had been shooting for hours, burning through the last of their ammo cache in one final defiant stand, they would hold their ground until the last man but he knew their ammunition supplies wouldn't last much longer; in fact, he had estimated that they'd run out half an earth hour ago. The final few dribbles of the cultists charge withered against their las fire, and the battle field feel silent. Another wave would follow soon, spurred on by their chaotic masters, Church doubted they could repel it, he murmured a litany under his breath.

The powerful voice of Commissar Harper Cut through the acrid air. "Guardsmen... Steady your will, though our weapons may fault, our armour may break, and our bones may be split, our hearts will still burn, BURN BRIGHT WITH THE EMPOR..." The sharp crack of a sonic boom followed by a huge concussive impact echoed across the battlefield, Commissar Harper had disappeared, in his place lay a huge yellow gore splattered Space Marine drop pod. seconds passed, several more drop pods hit the surrounding landscape, Finally the doors blew open, sending a second round of jarring reverberations through Church's ears.

All hell broke loose, as towering forms shot from the steel shell at lightning speed; most were howling seemingly random expletives, others were just simply screaming. For a second, Church thought they had been deep-struck by Khornate berzerkers; he savored what he thought would be his final breath and closed his eyes, ready to die... Church would not die this day, he would, however, break his right arm in several places and disintegrate most of his ribs and a good portion of his hips, for he was about to receive a very angry shove from a very angry marine. "OUT OF THE WAY RETARD", one of the marines shoved guardsman Church aside and jumped over the rampart. Church hit the ground with almost as much force as the drop pods, Church was no longer scared, or inspired, he felt nothing but confused. "what in the emperors name was-?" he murmured, swiftly proceeding to pass out.

== The Primarch of Rage ==

"''Lo, in the histories of the many Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, every Primarch listed that has ever come across my sage and learned eyes, has found root and home upon a planet, which hath shaped and set in stone the character of that warrior of The Emperor that he would become.''

''Therefore, one must give pause to the Primarch of our brothers, the Angry Marines, that great warrior of rage, for he hath never fell upon a planet. Nay! Legend has it he was borne upon the ethers and drifts of space, alone in his capsule save for a discarded copy of'' Battletoads ''that The Emperor had thrown out, a legendary artifact that hath fueled research into vast weapons of war that it might be unmade and erased from history.''

''When the capsule had finally been rammed into a drifting hulk of an old Imperial battleship, it is said that the Primarch was so enraged and frustrated with the vile game that he headbutted out the Adam's apple of the first survivor that he encountered, and thereafter killed every inhabitant with the remnants of the dying initial combatant.''"

''--- Historian Nwabudike'' 
''Histories of the Ill-favored Chapters''

== The Friendly Fire "Incident" of Klaxus XII ==
*From the historical records of Inquisitor Jangel, non-aligned investigator of Adeptus Astartes "Incidents". 
*Section #511: The "Friendly" Fire Incident of Klaxus XII 

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The records of this dire moment in Imperial history were (until I came upon them) known only to the two Space Marine Chapters that took part in the skirmish. However, only by putting the two records together is the truth found.

The [[Pretty Marines]] tell of a conflict fraught with glory against the odds, and of dire betrayal:

"''Prior to the sortie against our enemy, our glorious Chapter Master graced us with a speech. With eloquence, he spoke before the resplendent lines of the Brother-Marines. Sparkling under the twin suns, he recounted for us the beautiful victory, and of the fates of our enemies. As one we cheered, as we awaited his inevitable dance number.
 ''But lo, from the skies fell a drop pod, smashing into our forward lines and engulfing the area with thick dust. It took us only a moment to clear the air with our blow-dryers, but it was a moment too late: the Chapter Master was verily embedded lying-down onto the desert's surface face-first!''"

The Angry Marines tell the other side of the story, though in far less words due to a lacking in vocabulary beyond many four letter utterances. Hastily inserted into the annals of their Chapter, glory is simply a picture with the words "OWNED" across it, and the image of the Pretty Marines' Chapter Master unconscious on the ground, a crude mustache drawn on his face with paint, and what appears to be a set of testicles on his forehead.

So began the greatest internal feud within the Imperium.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise.'' 
+++++ 

== Astartes Most Unusual ==
*''Excerpted from Hidden Imperial Histories by Adept Voliusnius Brouyt'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Of the many Space Marine Chapters that protect the good citizens of the Imperium, none are as well respected, nor admired, as the warriors of the Ultramarines. Such is the greatness of their deeds. Their stories are told on innumerable worlds, their repu'that hold Guilliman's geneseed.

This does, however, occasionally lead to friction amongst some of the more bellicose chapters of Astartes that still stubbornly refuse to yield to the wisdom of the blessed Codex Astartes. Such antagonism is best illustrated with an anecdote from an instance when the Ultramarines encountered an obscure and ill-recorded chapter whom records merely identify as the "Fowl Marines".

The Angry Marines had apparently chased a Tyranid splinter fleet into Ultramarine space to which they brought absolute devastation. Impressed by their sheer ferocity the blessed Calgar offered an invitation to their Chapter Master, a man identified in the records only as Temperus Maximus. However, the invitation to meet their spiritual liege was responded to with the head of the slain hive tyrant -- on which was crudely scrawled an insulting cartoon of the Ultramarines defense of Macragge as well as depictions of male genitalia -- and the message, "STILL NOT AS GOOD AS THE HEAD YOUR MOM GAVE ME, YOU POMPOUS FUCKING DOUCHEBAG FUCKTARDS!!!!!!"

Infuriated by such a blatant and insulting snub, Calgar personally took it upon himself to demand an apology from the arrogant Temperus Maximus. He subsequently traveled to the offender's battlebarge throne room in person. Unfortunately, he little expected the animalistic temperament that would greet his justified demand for obeisance, from the maniacal Temperus Maximus. The exchange between the two soon escalated into an argument, before coming to blows.

The clash between the two occurred behind closed doors, with no clue exactly what words were exchanged. Yet when the doors opened again it was Calgar that was battered and bruised, with the sacred Gauntlets of Ultramar torn from his shoulders. Only the wise counsel of the Inquisition prevented him from declaring immediate war against his unruly brethren, a war that would no doubt have cost the Imperium greatly before the <s>Ultramarines'</s> Angry Marines' inevitable victory. The story stands as a clear example of how the refusal to follow the Codex only promotes discord and strife between erstwhile brothers.

As to what occurred in the Angry Marine chambers, few can know, the only clue perhaps the jeering cry raised by the Angry Marines whenever they cross paths with the Ultramarines during campaigns. A nonsensical mantra of "STOP HITTING YOURSELF STOP HITTING YOURSELF", repeated ad infinitum. What such a bizarre and crude chant could mean, a scholar can only guess at. Ultimately, it is telling of the less than exemplary mental nature of non-codex Astartes. 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Do not ask, ''"Why kill the alien?"'' rather, ask, ''"Why not?" 
+++++ 

== Assist on Vesuvius ==

*From the personal diaries of Brother R.C. Mongler, 4th Chanian Combat Group. 

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

My Chapter had landed on a barren little ball of rock called Vesuvius. The Inquisition had ordered us to the planet on suspicion of Chaos corruption. Surely enough, we ran into a group of Chaos Marines within a day of landing. The fools, turning their backs on the God-Emperor for whatever sick rewards they received from the deceiving Warp fiends. The battle started the second morning. Their attack was especially fierce, and my brothers and I had great trouble keeping them at bay. It seemed that for every one of them we killed, three more showed up. Our own losses were of no small concern. In a rare moment of calm, Brother-Captain Morgan confided in me that if we were not killed by these berserkers, we would almost certainly be killed by the Inquisition for failure. As our numbers dwindled, I grew concerned: surely we would all be killed, and The Emperor's work would not be carried out. We prepared for a final assault, one which had been coming for near a week of the most intense fighting I had ever seen. We surrounded a small hill, atop which stood our last Dreadnought, Brother Klarr. We saw their force coming from below. We knew this was our end. But suddenly, a shadow passed over us. Some great demon come to finish us off? No. It was a drop pod. Out of it stepped a small company of our brethren. They wore bright yellow armor, a bizarre crest upon their shoulders, unlike any Chapter I had yet heard of. A circle, with two lines crossing it and two dots in the middle - almost as if to suggest an angry face. They formed a line between us and the now charging Chaos Marines.

The Chaos Marines' bright red armor shone in the late afternoon sun, the spikes upon their shoulders menacing. The new arrivals stood fast. As the distance between the two forces began to close, there arose from these yellow warriors the loudest scream I had ever heard. It shook the ground. Even through my helmet, it made my ears ring and my skull ache. And it simply kept getting louder as their Captain's fist slowly rose into the air. As it rose to a nearly supersonic volume, I finally made out the words contained in the scream:

"''ALWAYS ANGRY!!!''"

In a chorus louder even than the Captain's scream, the soldiers returned:

"''ALL THE FUCKING TIME!!!''"

Then it began.

...

Without a word, the yellow Space Marines returned to their drop pod and were soon whisked away from the battlefield. There had been no more than a dozen of them, not a single word exchanged between our two Chapters. To this day, I have never seen any Marines fight with such rage and fury. The mass of enemy berserkers was reduced to mere chunks; legs, arms, heads, and craters full of blood. Bits of red armor lay strew about the field. We had not even had the chance to advance by the time the screaming - both theirs and the enemy's - was over. I turned to my Captain and asked, "''Who were they?''"

"''I had thought it was rumor, but no. Emperor bless us all, those were the Angry Marines.''"

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''The Emperor protects.'' 

==hell hath no furial==

Brother furiel of the angry marines had been a fairly ordinary brother of the chapters third company he did his duty, he ripped and tore his way through the enemies of the emperor. He had risen to the place of third company by literally beating a gene stealer broodlord to death with his own arms.(all of them)
On a particularly foul morning on the planet decisarus prime where the planetary governor sold his soul and the entire planetary population to slaanesh. He was particularly incensed.
Their was daemons marauding through the streets, raping killing, pillaging doing unspeakable things with pool noodles and a local girls schola progenium.
Local pdf had turned their guns on the very people they were supposed to be defending.
An entire hive city was burning and slaanesh marines were emerging from warp portals playing bad dubstep so loud it could be heard from space…the last thing furiel needed in the morning was some fucking power armored gimp playing shitty rock covers at 9 in the morning like an asshole!
But brother furiel could do nothing about this situation from his position on the chapters battle barge. dark mechanicum anti air emplacments were in place preventing thunderhawk deployment from orbit.
And all the drop pods were currently receiving system updates due to mechanicus fuck nuggets and their mandatory machine spirit updates, as to the teleportarium. After last weeks incident involving
A vespid and some chapter serfs furiel didn’t want to risk it.
Slaaneshi damons were running amock those dicks the inquisition were inbound and worst of all the marines malevolent intended to kill steal this entire situation and claim the glory for themselves..soon as they translated in system in their piss yellow battle barges
NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH THEY DON’T! brother furiel said
In a quiet moment of calm and introspective(compared to his brothers) he had a moment of inspiration. His brother and mood-kin brother officus of the pissed clan, seeing him said
HEY FAGGOT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?
Patiently he turned to his otherwise sanguine (by angry marine standards) brother and said
WHAT DOES IT FUCKIN LOOK LIKE IM DOING YOU POWER ARMORED NOB JOCKEY!?
Furiel said while loading his bolter, noticing the machine spirit was particularly moody today, he gave it a slap just to remind it who was boss, none of that faggoty oils and litanys for his bolter “earl grey”
Furiel didn’t know who this earl gray was but he must have been a bad ass to have a bolter named after him. His bolter was, like him in a pissed off mood and, like him liked to beat peoples faces in.
Officus, incredulous by his brothers perplexing actions said
YOU LOOK LIKE YER CLIMBIN’ INTO A MACRO SHELL YA POWER ARMORED BELL END!
Pertinently and calmly furiel put down his bolter and said with clarity and grace.
THAT’S COZ I FUCKIN AM YOU ARSE BISCUIT, now push the button AND LAUNCH THE FOOKIN’ TORPEDO AT THE PLANET! YOU FOOKIN NOB-GOBLIN!
The gears starting to turn in officiuses head….HEY dick muncher! He called out to their brother in the tech marine armor.
WHUT!? The red armored brother said.
WANKFACE HERE WANTS TO LAUNCH HIMSELF AT THE ENEMEY BY MACRO CANNON! Will that work?
Calculating the trajectory in his inhuman mind…factoring in power armor against re-entry, wind resistance, impact and sheer impossibility.
He said…HEY’ DICKBURGER in the ships helm turn the ship 32 degrees!
What followed should not have worked, it should have killed every battle brother who attempted it.
But the angry marines were angry like never before and a mere thing like “gravity” and “the laws of physics” would not stop the emperors justice from landing on these peckerheads heads!
Over the main hive city lord humungoid, previously lord peckerhead, now lord humungoid peckerhead observed what he assumed to be rain of some sort…
The hive had been subdued…the men and women fed to the sick and elderly the slaaneshi party busses were in full patrol their was no way anything was getting through not with captian luxor sword captian of emperors children and leader of the warband “party boys” on the scene.
Only the rain was getting angrier…and on fire….With a loud sonic boom several small objects were coming this way…
HEY ARSEBADGER! IM COMING TO GET YOU! One of the meteoroites seemed to be saying
It seems the angry marines had literally launched themselves from orbit at the attacking city.
Its said that with his slaaneshi enhanced eyesight he could see the fury on brother furiels face from space and the middle fingers he was giving while burning up on re-entry!
Firing everything they had into the air was pointless, as a half dozen marines were now imminently arriving…without drop pods….right on top of them….. was proving less than effective.
Too small for big guns too far away for smaller guns. The peeved asteroids were homing in now and a faint “aaaaaaaa” could be heard turning the heads of all but the most headonistic traitors….
Fire more bullets at them!
But sir
I SAID FIRE MORE BULLETS AT THEM!
Tracer fire lit up the air and more bullets were aimed at them
The “aaaaah” was getting louder and louder and more people were noticing this now.
The low powered hum could be heard what sounded now like a swarm of angry bees getting closer and closer…
Oh shit…
Brother furian with his astartes vision could see the fucker now 2 miles out…
THERE YOU ARE YOU LITTLE FUCK BUCKET! IM COMING FOR YOU!
Adjusting his aim slightly brother furian homed in on the govenors palace, now, everything was aimed at him and the screaming was getting louder
Now macro lasers were firing and the traitor warlord titan Lucius rentboy was firing its macro cannons at these yellow and red little insects but to no avail, the last thing their deranged precepts saw was a red and yellow marine bursting through his void shields his mailed fists caving in his skull and his brothers flying right through as brother furiel punched through the back of the titan and aimed straight for the traitorous governor.
HEY WANKSTAIN! Ive come to rip yer balls off and shove them down your neck!
They say, brother furians descent into the atmosphere was insane, they say his battle plan was madness they say launching marines from battle barges into enemy occupied hive cities 10 men against a fucking slaanesh army that still remembers how to strategise and has the dark mechanicum on hand is….less than ideal..
What all the affected parties did agree on was brother furians little episode was what most would consider “an extinction level event” and it was.
Earning a place in the chapters angry marine hall of awesome he single handily exterminated an entire fucking hive city by himself.
He obliterated men, women, tanks, titans, buildings, dark mechanicum assets. Essentially the equivalent of dropping a fucking nuke on this city.
When the smoke cleared and a taskforce went down they found brother furiel lodged deep into the planets crust still glowing, his hands clutched around the planetary govenors skull, which has a look on its face would could only be described by local angry marines as FOOKIN HILARIOUS!
A look of pure fear and dread some said, at the hammer about to land on him for his treason.

Upon discovery by chapter master temperus maximus said to the chief apothecary.
YOU! PISSFLAPS, GET THAT CUNTIN DICKWEASEL IN POWER ARMOR AND MAKE HIM ALIVE AGAIN!
Tearsley the apothecary responded. With elloquance and grace befitting of his title.
I CANT FOOKIN DO THAT BITCH TITS, HE’S DYING.
THE FUCK DID YOU CALL ME? chapter master temperus said incredulously.
CHAPTER MASTER- BITCH TITS, the apothocary said
Twitching with rage at being denied the chapters hero and about to give the apotocary a smack, he turned to his brother and said.
“THEN GET A FOOKIN MOP YOU NUMPTY, SCOOP HIM UP, PUT WHATS LEFT OF HIM IN A LUNCH BOX AND PUT HIM IN THE ARMORED COFFIN WERE MAKING A DRED!

And that is how brother furian, became the chapters first belligerent engine post cicatrix maladictum.

+++++ 

== The Salvation of Calamitis Prime ==

*Loading excerpt from ''Tales of Valor: Reports from the Ork Invasion of Calamitis Prime''. 

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The PDF sold their lives dearly to stop the greenskin advance upon our primary Hive, but on the horde came. There would be no escape-- but for the Planetary Governor, whose escape shuttle was prepped to leave before the attack had even begun.

As our leader left us to die, we prayed to The Emperor for deliverance while we continued risking our lives to protect his works. Glory be to his swift answer.

A yellow Thunderhawk, identified as ''Necrogoth Fuckshit'', descended like a falling star, the much larger transport vehicle crushing the smaller one as it demolished the landing pad, and through the fire and smoke the mighty figure of a Space Marine strode forth. I will never forget the seething expression on his face as he looked upon us, then upon the Hive, and then upon the xenos.

The Marine did not pause, he drew his chainsword and charged down the stairs with a battlecry upon his lips, screaming "''FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-''" or something of the sort, a cry with no end. Even as he disappeared into the Hive we heard him clearly, even as we saw the small yellow figure leap from the Hive into the throng of green below we heard him. Drop pods followed as more Marines smashed into the horde, more yellow armored Marines echoing the endless cry.

The xenos were crushed utterly, and still screaming in rage, the Space Marines ran up the Hive once more, to where the Governor still stood staring at the crushed wreckage of his escape shuttle in disbelief. The Marines poured into their Thunderhawk, but the Marine from before ran right up to the cowardly official, and his finger pressing painfully against the man's forehead, ended his warcry at last,:

"''-UUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOU!''"

Rather unceremoniously, the Governor was then pitched off the top of the Hive, with his underwear pulled up over his head. 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''To question is to doubt.'' 
+++++ 

== They called me a Cunt I'll Fuck Their Shit Up ==

''Extracted from the testimony of Inquisitor Seros''

''Extract #420/69, as follows...''

During the 38th Millennium, a young scribe was tasked by the Adminstratum to launch a complete inventorial investigation into an Adeptus Astartes chapter listed as the ”Angry Marines”. For some reason the Chapter´s quartermasters had not supplied the Administratum on Holy Terra with copies of the Chapter´s procurements and requisitions. As the Mechanicum wasn't obliged to supply reports about deliveries to individual units, the Administratum had no idea of the current state of the chapters inventory, upkeep or even numbers of Astartes. The promising young scribe chosen for this task was named Arturius; he had a flawless record and knew instinctively how to deal with bureaucracy.

As the chapter had not even supplied the Administratum with a home world, the scribe was sent to the commander of the “Somethingth” company, a marine named Shitkicker. After months of travelling aboard a supply vessel, Arturius could finally get on with his mission. The “Somethingth” company was currently deployed on the world Akdov Prime, and was in the final stages of liberating the planet from rebels and heretics. As the small craft boarded the battle barge “IDONTCAREYOUNAMETHEDAMNTHING”, Arturius braced himself for a meeting with a Chapter about which the elder scribes only talked in hushed whispers.

But to his surprise, when the airlock doors opened there was no one there to greet him. He wondered if they might have misunderstood the ID signal he sent when he asked for permission to board the immense ship? Slowly he made his way through the corridors of the battle barge, walking intently towards sounds that sounded suspiciously like swearing and punching. The noises increased in strength and clarity as he stopped just in front of a large bulkhead with massive dents in the thick metal. He took a deep breath and pressed the button to open the bulkhead doors and before he knew it, he stood eye to eye with the quartermaster of the ship. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STARING AT YOU BATHROBE-WEARING SCROTUMGOBBLER?!” Arturius was taken aback by the sheer volume at which the yellow clad Astartes operated. “Oh, ehm well you see Sir, I've been sent by the Adminis...” and before he could even finish his sentence the quartermaster had removed his helmet and planted it a mere inch from the young scribes head. “YOU COME FROM WHERE?! DON'T FUCKING TELL ME THE DICKSNIFFERS FROM THE FUCKING 'LIBARY' SENT YOU?!” he shouted at a deafening level, whilst spraying Arturius with spittle.

“I'm afraid that I am, oh thou protector of humanity, they've sent me because...”; again he was interrupted. “I COULDN'T GIVE A LUBE-SMELLING JIZZPOT AS TO WHY THOSE TAINTFONDLING NERDS WOULD SEND YOU HERE, I'M NOT SORTING ALL OF THESE BOLTERS OUT JUST SO THEY HAVE SOMETHING TO JERK OFF TO”. Arturius had a feeling he would get nowhere with the quartermaster, who was now so annoyed that a vein throbbed alarmingly on the side of his bald head. With great haste he backed out of the disorganized arsenal and ventured further into the ship, towards the bridge.

Unlike most of the Imperium's bigger vessels, this battle barge didn't have any markings to indicate as to which direction one would proceed to a certain location. The only thing close to it were lewd drawings and four letter cursewords scribbled on the walls. After almost an hour of guessing as to where the bridge might be, having only depictions of genitalia with jet-engines attached to them to go by, he had finally arrived. Again he heard muffled shouting behind the immense bulkhead, and thought that caution was needed for this possibly violent encounter. Never in his wildest nightmares could he have expected Adeptus Astartes to behave in this manner. With a trembling finger, he pressed the button to open the bulkhead and in an instant the shouting became clear. “I DON'T GIVE TWO LUMPS OF SHIT ABOUT WHAT THE GOVERNOR ASSHAT THINKS, WE'RE THROWING IN ALL OF THE ANGRY GANGS!!!”. “With all due respect my lord, we don't have enough pods for all t..”, “FUCK YOU BUTTPIRATE, THEN WE'LL FUCKING LAND THIS PIECE OF DICKSPIT ON THAT SHITHOLE EXCUSE OF A PLANET!”.

Captain Shitkicker had not even registered the arrival of the nervous scribe, and with a very unsteady voice he spoke, “Excuse me your excellency, may I have a word?”. The Captain sharply turned his head towards Arturius, and with only three strides he stood face to face to the trembling Administratum emissary. “AND WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!” the Captain shouted, not even breaking eye contact for a millisecond. Almost soiling himself, Arturius spoke up; “Revered Captain of the glorious Adeptus Astartes, this humble scribe have ventured forth from the Administratum in order to f...” “YOU'RE FROM THE FUCKING 'LIBARY'?!” the captain roared, and now his eyes flashed with a rage even greater than when Arturius had arrived at the bridge. “THAT FUCKING DOES IT, I'M COMPLETELY BLOODY SICK OF THIS!”. Seemingly from nowhere the furious Captain Shitkicker produced a melta-grenade, pulled the pin out, but kept his hand firmly on the safety latch. Again he took three angry strides towards the Mechanicum Officer that he had verbally abused before, stuck the grenade in his hand and screamed mere millimeters from the face of this Servant of the Omnissiah: “IF YOU EVEN MOVE AN INCH OR SPEW ANYMORE BULLSHIT FROM THAT CUM-ENCRUSTED SPHINCTER YOU CALL A MOUTH, THEN I WILL KICK THIS GRENADE FROM YOUR SHITSMEARED HANDS AND DESTROY THAT FUCKING CONSOLE CONTROLLING THE SHIP!!!”. Even under all the cybernetic modifications you could see the already pale Enginseer going full white, knowing full well that the Captain meant every word.

“HEY PILOTING ASSWIPES, LAND THIS FUCKING OUTHOUSE ON THAT FUCKING SHITSTAIN!” Captain Shitkicker roared whilst pointing to Akdov Prime. Even from orbit you could see the massive fires in the hive-cities, where the Imperial Loyalists battled against the rebel scum. The servitors looked up and responded with a “Yes my lord” in that neutral voice of theirs. The mighty battle barge´s engines fired up and started to move the immense ship towards the planets surface, the void shields being calibrated on the move to account for the pressure of the atmosphere. The Captain had now retired to a large room adjacent to the bridge, and by the sounds and constant swearing, Arturius knew the mighty Space Marine was looking for something. “AH THERE IT FUCKING IS, THIS IS GOING TO BE MEGA-FUCKING-KICKASS-AWESOMESAUCE” the Captain gleefully exclaimed as he had found an ancient power-weapon of some description.

Before Arturius could investigate the issue further, the ship was well on its way to the surface with the creaking sound making it abundantly clear that the ship wasn't too happy about the sudden atmospheric pressures and gravity pulling at its massive frame. After some serious piloting from the Servitors, the ship was stable a couple of kilometers above the surface of the battle scarred planet. Without even a single curse, obscenity or threat, Captain Shitkicker ran at full speed down the corridor that young Arturius had arrived from. Having given up on handling the situation as per any protocol he knew of, he ran after the Astartes to the best of his abilities. After almost losing the large Astartes in the corridors of the battle barge, he finally caught up with him, standing in front of a Vox-console trying to plug into the ships loudspeakers. “ALRIGHT YOU DICKBADGERS, WE'RE OFF TO KICK ASS!” the Captain roared into the microphone he held in his right hand, violently gesturing with the other. “REPORT TO THE FUCKING DROPPODS ON THE FUCKING DOUBLE!”, after screaming the last order into the mic, Captain Shitkicker again made off towards the hangars of the mighty ship. Arturius had abandoned all pretense of knowing what to do at this point, thinking that it might be best to report his failings to the Administratum and receive his punishment instead of spending another minute aboard this floating madhouse. He knew he had come from the hangars when he arrived, so again he followed the mad Astartes. After just a minute of intense running he had arrived in the hangars, seeing Captain Shitkicker violently screaming at a group of Sergeants near the drop pods. He tried to make his way to his own craft, but after walking just a few paces he was lifted up by a pair of extremely strong hands, and he heard a voice bellowing behind him; “FUCK YOU NERD, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME ON THE THUNDERHAWK, I NEED A SURFBOARD”. It was one of the Veterans of the chapter, adorned in the yellow and red livery with the strange crest upon their chests. Powerless to protest, Arturius was dragged towards on the Thunderhawks in the hangar, intensely praying for his life.

Going through the flight checks - which basically consisted of banging on the craft´s instruments and swearing loudly - the pilot started the engines of the mighty Thunderhawk. Arturius was mushed in between two massive Space Marines and was holding on for dear life as the craft suddenly jerked forwards and started speeding up out of the hangar. Within a moment´s notice the mighty Thunderhawk was in a screaming descent towards one the main hives of Akdov Prime, and Arturius feared for his life. The Astartes on the other hand were just laughing manically or/and loudly screaming obscenities at each other, which must have been a bizarre pre-battle ritual of the Chapter. As the craft closed in for a landing, the Astartes suddenly started chanting their battlecry, “ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME! ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME!” as they rushed out of the landing craft. Not even having time to react, the poor scribe was again picked up by the grumpy Veteran, “LOOK, NOW THE FUCKING FUN STARTS!” he roared into Arturius' ear as he carried him into battle like a sack of doorknobs. He had no idea why the mighty Astartes had picked him up in the first place, and were know properly starting to fear for his life, his purpose became clear after they entered a hastily set up base of operations in what used to be a beautiful plaza. “FIX MY FUCKING POWERBAT YOU SPHINCTER!” someone roared in his already ringing ears, and felt something being dropped in his lap. “I.. I don't know how to repair weaponry such as this!” the young man exclaimed, with the Astartes just staring at him. “USELESS FAGGOTROCIOUS CUNT!” he screamed as he threw the scribe right into a pillar.

He woke up days later in a hospital, dazed and confused. Next to his bed stood a man in inquisitorial livery. “I see you too have had a run-in with the... Angry Marines” the man said slowly. Without thinking he offered the man a seat next to his bed but the Inquisitor stated “Uh, no thanks. I would rather stand... My name is Seros, Inquisitor Seros. And I understand you have some information about the Angry Marines´ unwillingness to cooperate with Imperial officials. I am currently in dire need of such information” the man said. Arturius could swear that the Inquisitors´ buttcheeks had tightened when he mentioned the name 'Angry Marines'. “Now, let me write down you testimony, and together we might put an end to the madness that is the 'Angry Marines', these subhuman morons who dare call themselves Astartes.”....

+++++ 
The Inquisition never forgets'' 
+++++ 

== The Life of an Asshole ==

* From the records of Governor Tamel of Pathos Secundus.
* File #34476A: Captain Asshole
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

A boy was born in the year 895.M38, on Pathos Secundus. Little is recorded of his parentage. His father was a Guardsman, known only to be missing and presumed dead, and his mother died in childbirth. The pregnancy had no complications, and so an autopsy was conducted. Wounds throughout the mother's uterus and all along the birth canal indicated extreme trauma; video recording of the birth confirmed the medical examiner's suspicions: he had come out cuntpunching (sic). 

The child spent his youth in and out of various orphanages and foster homes. Several of his caretakers attempted to name him, but whenever anyone asked him his name, he responded only by punching them in the throat. He was regarded as mad and dangerous at the very least; many believed he harboured some mutation, or even the mark of Chaos. At the age of ten, however, he finally found a home. An Angry Marine Quartermaster had made planetfall to procure supplies, and the young boy happened to be in the area. The Marine shouted to him, "''HEY, ASSHOLE, BRING ME THAT FUCKING HAND TRUCK IN THE CORNER!''" 

The youth approached the hardened battle-brother and kicked him squarely in the groinplate, breaking two of his toes but making not a sound and shedding not a tear. The Angry Marines had found a new recruit. 

At the time Asshole was inducted, the Chapter Master of the Angry Marines had decreed that new recruits should become standard Codex scouts. The issue was put to a vote, and the chapter at large declared this decision to be "''COMPLETELY FUCKING FAGGOTROCIOUS,''" however the decree stood for a time on the basis that the Chapter Master did it "''JUST TO PISS YOU OFF, YOU WORTHLESS TWATS!''" 

This did not well accommodate young Asshole. The one thing they could never teach him to do was aim, and he spent far longer than normal languishing in the 10th Company. Finally, in 176.M39, during the Scouring of Erhlinger Prime, he proved himself. After emptying an entire magazine into an Ork horde with no effect, Asshole abandoned his cover, howled madly into the sky, and broke his sniper rifle neatly in half across his knee. He then charged the band, tearing limbs from any greenskin that stood in his way, until he was standing face-to-face with the Boss Mek. Asshole took the two halves of his ruined rifle and spitted the Ork from both ends of his digestive track-- right through his flash kustom 'ardpantz, no less. The remaining xenos turned tail and ran. For his heroism, Asshole was immediately inducted to the 5th Company and promoted to the rank of Sergeant. Nevertheless, the Chapter Master shortly thereafter judged that the newbies were 'pissed off enough', and reinstated the Angry Gangs. 

Asshole rose quickly through the ranks, finally becoming Brother-Captain of the Battle Barge ''Killfuck Soulshitter'' in 722.M39. During his career, he developed a special hatred of Eldar, and would often be heard to claim that "''THEY MAY AS WELL BE GODDAMN PRETTY MARINES FOR ALL THEIR FAIRYASSED PANTSHITTERY!!''" In 756.M39, the ''Killfuck Soulshitter'' was called to push back an incursion on the Coluphid Sector by Eldar. The campaign was a terrifying success, and in its last moments, Captain Asshole confronted the Farseer Turiel and her daughter Sorith, one of the Seer Council, personally. Breaking Sorith and casting her blithely aside in one swift blow, the Captain approached the Farseer, shaking with rage. Before she could react, he slammed her to the ground, removed his groinplate, and raped the Eldar psyker with a brutality she no doubt ever imagined in her 424 years. As he finished, he rose, readjusted his armor, and looked the horrified Sorith in her eyes, saying "''I FUCKED YOUR MOM!''" He turned and left, letting the two witches steal into the Webway. A Marine in Asshole's retinue, puzzled, asked "''WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THOSE DYKES GET AWAY, YOU RETARDED COCKSICKLE?''" In an astonishing display of restraint, Asshole replied simply "''THOSE SPACE WHORES AREN'T THE ONLY ONES WHO CAN PLAN AHEAD, YOU DICKWEED!''" 

In 989.M39, Captain Asshole received a pizza with mushrooms instead of pineapple, and suffered an aneurysm while pummeling those responsible. Thus, his Battle-Brothers cybernetically mounted him into one of the Chapter's [[Dreadnought|Dreadnoughts]]-- or, as they prefer to call them within the Angry Marines, a [[Belligerent Engine]]. 

Thirty years later, the Chapter met the same Eldar again on the field of battle. The carnage played out much the same as before. All that remained were Farseer Turiel, and Sorith -- and the Belligerent Engine in which Captain Asshole was fused. A terrible din was heard. Suddenly, Captain Asshole's turgid member had punched right through the armor plating of the Dreadnought, with the Angry Marine himself in tow, and lodged itself between the buttocks of the Farseer with the force of 10 supernovae. He turned to Sorith and spoke his last words to her before slaughtering them both. 

"''EVEN IN DEATH, I STILL FUCK YOUR MOM.''" 

Captain Asshole, victorious, then breathed his last on the field of battle.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Hatred is the purest expression of love for The Emperor.'' 
+++++ 

== From the Flames of Furfaggotry ==

*Imperial historical logs; as compiled by Commissar T.G. Wang, 137th Trondheim Regiment of the Imperial Guard 
*''A synopsis of the events preceding the destruction of all heretical forces on Tertius Gamma follows'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The planet of Tertius Gamma was besieged by mutants of Chaos, the insipidness of which had never been before seen in this sector of space. The furry abominations, committing the hideous blasphemy of wearing sacred power armor as if in service to the God-Emperor, had been leveling city after city for days. And now... they had advanced upon the capitol city, the last bastion of humanity.

However, little did anyone realize that the incursion had been noticed by one of the greatest Chapters of all Space Marines -- whose mighty Battle Barge was even now entering orbit around the planet -- the Angry Marines. 

"''GODDAMMIT, WHY AREN'T WE ON THE GROUND YET?''" screamed an armored visage. What remained of his face had been twisted recognizably by sheer rage.

"''Sir, we cannot enter the atmosphere that quickly. The friction woul bur-''" The voice of the Servitor was cut short as he was crushed beneath the sheer weight of the Marine's armor as he jumped into the pilot terminal. 
Thus, the Battle Barge, the ''Litany of Litany's Litany'', began its screaming descent towards the besieged planet. 

All the while, a cacophony of sickly sounds continued to permeate from the murky planet below.
 "''Yiff... yiff... yiff... yiff...''"
 It was maddening; sufficiently so that any lesser man would have taken his own life. But it had no effect on the stalwart Marines of rage save to infuriate them like never before. 

At the same time (and unknown to their brethren on the first Battle Barge, or vice versa), a second Battle Barge of the Chapter, the ''Maximum FUCK'', hovered at the ready directly over the capital city. Upon it, poised the payload of Adeptus Astartes Angry Marines, prepared to make planetfall.

Captain Temperus of the 3rd Company watched and waited, his eyes fixed firmly on the screens showing a wave of mutants overrunning the planetary defense force positions. He felt his blood boil as he looked upon the livery adorning their armor, their mockery of everything they stood for. Their faces were an abomination. The heretical glee, visible on their faces even from space, angered the Brother Captain even moar.

The comms-servant gave a silent nod, and although it seemed as though he hadn't seen it, Temperus was well aware. It was time-- but he hadn't the patience for any conventional strike this time.

"''CUNT SNIFFING FAGGOT MOTHERFUCKERS!''" He bellowed with rage. With the full force of his forehead, Captain Temperus struck the large red button on the console in front of him, destroying it in the process. Great shields on the side of the Battle Barge turned into place over the front of the craft, forming a giant battering ram shaped like a middle finger.

The ''Maximum FUCK'' began its nose-first descent into the atmosphere. 

The fighting around the capitol city grew more and more fierce. The furred mutants were sending their numbers to die beneath the walls of the city, each one attempting to use their bladed weapon to try and chip away at the hardened rockcrete. At first the defenders jeered at their foolhardiness. But as more corpses piled around the walls, the more precarious became the city's chances.

"''Keep up that heavy bolter fire!''" the Commissar screamed over the din of the gun emplacements. 
"''Bring up the flamers! Show these abominations the cleansing power of The Emperor!''" 
Just then a Servitor scuttled up to the Commissar's side.

"''Milord, crafts from off-world are making planetfall. It appears to be the Adeptus Astartes.''"

"''Ah, at last. Now we shall TRULY turn the tide against this filth!''" beamed the Commissar.

In revelry and decadence, the furries fought and continued to advance. The city would soon fall, there was none alive on Tertius Gamma who could stop them now. 

Suddenly, all heads turned skywards, eyes scanning above to find the source of a terrible noise. The two Angry Marines Battle Barges collided sides-first against one another as they plummeted towards a single target. The mutants realized that target was them.

The Commissar turned his eyes skywards as the enemy fell silent and a great shadow fell across the lands.

"''What the fuck...''" the Commissar uttered under his breath, in disbelief. 

"''FUCK YOU, I WAS HERE FIRST!!!''" screamed the commander aboard the ''Litany of Litany's Litany'', as he piloted his barge directly into the heart of the mutant hordes below.

"''NO FUCK YOU, I DEPLOYED THE FINGER!!!''" Captain Temperus cursed back. 

Traitors fled, mutants hid, deviants cried out for their dark gods to save them. As one, then two Battle Barges slammed into the enemy lines. 
With a terrifying roar, the planet itself was torn asunder! 
Tertius Gamma was no more.

All that remained was two Battle Barges, locked in fierce combat.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Suffer not the Furry to live.'' 
+++++ 

== Tempting Rage ==

*''Excerpted from personal correspondence addressed to PFC. Munchaussen, then stationed in the Argos sector'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The aspiring Champion of Khorne called out to the Angry Marines before him just as they prepared to charge his host of daemons and World Eaters. 

"''Can you not see the similarities between your battle prowess and ours? Khorne fills you with his wrath in battle, but you do not take time even to notice. Join us, and together we can destroy all within our path! Sink deeper into your anger with the full blessings of the Blood God!''" 

The assembled Angry Marines took pause, and considered the words of the World Eater Champion. Chaplain Brusiarch then stepped from the front ranks of the Angry Marines' line, turned, and backhanded the closest Angry Marine. The yellow-clad Battle-Brothers then turned their gaze to meet his. 

Brusiarch gestured towards the aspiring Champion of Chaos, pointing to the bolt pistol that the Champion wielded in his left hand. The Chaplain shouted to his brother Marines, "''YOU DON'T LISTEN TO FAGGOTS, YOU COCKSICLES, YOU FUCKING KILL THEM!!!''" 

The previously backhanded Space Marine then stood up, his faceplate shattered from the force of the blow, and shouted the battle cry of the Angry Marines, "''ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!''" 

The Angry Marines then realized their folly at listening -- even if only for a moment -- to an insufferable faggot. He dared consider himself as angry as they were but armed himself not with a second chainsword or power fist, but a pussified ''bolt pistol''?? 

The next few seconds witnessed the roar of Cocknocker jump packs, the whoosh of battle-brothers being launched at the daemonic host from the Predator Angrinator's, and Brother Chaplain Brusiarch's battle cry of "''FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-,''" as he charged the World Eaters' line. 

Chaos was fucked. 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Zeal is its own excuse.'' 
+++++ 

== Acclimating to the Angry Marines ==
*''A brief account of life with the ''Angry Marines'', and their Reclusiarch,'' Mofo
*''As lived by ''Brother-Sergeant Kollon'', Imperial Fists'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

I, Brother-Sergeant Kollon, of the Imperial Fists have been attached to the Angry Marine Chapter. In my first week training with our brothers, I had the privilege, of sorts, to encounter none other than their chapter's Reclusiarch, Mofo. After completing the morning firing rites alongside the Angry Marines, I made for the closest lavatory to relieve myself before battle practice began. The firing rites, as dictated by the Codex Astartes, involve squads honing their skills with ranged weaponry. While my fellow Astartes of the Imperial Fists attained perfect accuracy and precision with our bolters and sniper rifles, our less restrained Battle-Brothers spent most of the time missing their targets with the few bolters they had on hand. After expending his ammunition, each marine would charge down the firing lane to smash the pristine target with his bolter, his hands, and anything else within reach. We began to suspect that this non-codex treatment of ranged weaponry was the cause of the shortage of bolters in the Angry Marines' armory aboard the Litany of Litany's Litany.

I had deactivated and removed the appropriate sections of my power-armor, noticing the raised dais in the center of the lavatory chamber about which all the commodes faced. Many print copies of the legendary Codex Astartes lay upon this dais, and I found it odd that the Angry Marines would partake in the custom of reading while relieving oneself like so many of the Imperium's cultures do. I had just sat down upon one of the commodes along the bulkhead when Reclusiarch Mofo entered the chamber.

He wore his full set of armor, not even having removed his helm. He is larger than the average Space Marine and carried his signature Crozius, Fag-Basher. It is platinum, and shaped like a great fist holding an Imperial Aquila token with the middle finger extended.

The Reclusiarch tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment of my presence and sat himself down upon a commode near the one I was seated upon. I quickly expelled the contents of my bowel, and experienced another tortured minute while the Reclusiarch violently did the same with much loud swearing and oath making. It was then that I realized that the commodes in this lavatory did not have a bidet function like most toilets of the modern Imperium. I had just turned to ask the Reclusiarch how his Chapter went about cleansing themselves when I saw him reach out to one of the copies of the Codex Astartes. He opened it, and Emperor preserve us all, ripped a page from it, and began cleaning his backside! I cried out,

"This...THIS IS HERESY!!"

The Reclusiarch became a blur, a lightning strike of motion. Instantly his crozius was alight in his hand, its power field sending blue energy flicking out from its surface. "HERESY!!! WHERE!!?? WHERE'S THE HERESY, YOU FISTFUCK ARSE-STRUMMER!!??," he shouted at max vox amp. He stood there, his head rapidly scanning the entire room for any sign of heresy, with the soiled page of Guilliman's life's work still wedged in his backside. It was the most astonishing sight I have ever seen in my centuries of service, and before my gen-enhanced senses could even register it, he had planted Fag-Basher in the bulkhead just centimeters from my head. "DON'T FUCKIN' STARTLE ME LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING CUNTBREATHED, PISS-ENCRUSTED, ARSEWART!!!!!!" he roared right in my face. Mofo then turned back to his toilet and angrily finished cleaning himself with the torn codex page. He closed his armor and ripped Fag-Basher back out of the wall, causing me to duck. As he walked through the portal to the lavatory, he turned and shouted, "BATTLE PRACTICE STARTS IN THREE MINUTES FUCKFACE, SO BREAK IT OFF AND GET A FUCKING MOVE ON!!! IF YOU'RE LATE, I'M GONNA REPLACE ALL OF THIS TOILET PAPER," as he gestured to the copies of the Codex Astartes "WITH YOUR HANDS!!!"

He then stormed down the hallway, leaving me stunned on the toilet. I looked at the copies of the Codex Astartes, a holy work written by the Emperor's own loyal son and the basis for everything I have lived my long life for as a Space Marine. I had the choice of defacing the codex, or undergoing the foulest penance I had ever been threatened with. This was only the first week of a decades long deployment with this Chapter!! Had the Emperor abandoned me? 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Heresy must be met with hatred.'' 
+++++ 

== Ruination of the Black Legion Warband on Tormus Octavion ==
*''The Further Misadventures of Mofo, ''Reclusiarch'' of the ''Angry Marines'' 
*''Compiled from the Mission Logs of'' Commissar John Fuklaw'' of the ''Angry Marines'' Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, by the Imperial Archiving Services Staff
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Mofo, Reclusiarch of the Angry Marines, finished his oaths to the Emprah. Promises, made to his God, as to just how badly he would RIP THE FUCKING COLONS RIGHT OUT OF THOSE PENULTIMATE FAGGOTS!

Mofo recited his promise to himself as ''The Bird'', the [[Thunderhawk]] they were riding in, jerked and swerved. They were flying close to the ground to avoid detection. Mofo recalled how the enemy had made the very serious mistake of taunting Brother-Captain Raeg, several hours earlier. 

-----

"Come and get us, striplings!" Their leader had said, his fat metal ass humming and whirring even through the pict feed. "You cannot penetrate our void shields from your precious battle barge, and your ground forces will not stop our ritual in time. The warp portal is nearly complete, and soon this whole planet shall be consumed by Chaos!" Then the faggot went on and on about how great he is and how he has such a FUCKING HARDON FOR HIMSELF!!!!

"IMMA FUCKING RIP THAT COCKSUCKER IN PIECES, THEN EAT THOSE PIECES AND SHIT THEM OUT!!!!" Raeg had shouted. So loud was his exclamation, the techfags in the engine rooms had heard him. "FIRE UP THE ENGINES, WE'RE RAMMING THE FUCK OUT OF THAT SHIELD WITH THE WHOLE SHIP!!!"

"FUCK THAT SHIT, I'VE GOT A BETTER IDEA," Mofo politely interjected.

The Captain respectfully disagree. "FUCK YOU, THAT FAGGOT IS GONNA REGRET THE DAY HE FIRST BELIEVED IN THOSE SHITEATING CHAOS GODS ALMOST AS MUCH AS HE IS GONNA REGRET THE DAY HE FUCKING CALLED ME!!!"

It had been difficult to convince Raeg of his plan, but the chapter had already heavily damaged two battle barges in recent years during the Tertius Gamma campaign. The techno-cockgobblers on Mars said they were not gonna make any more for his chapter if they kept on wrecking them every time the enemy used a void shield. Mofo responded diplomatically, "WITH RESPECT CAPTAIN, FUCK YOU AND THE OBSCURA THAT BURST FROM THE CONDOMS YOU SWALLOWED!! IMMA GO DOWN THERE, WRECK THAT FAGGOT'S SHIT, THEN OPEN THE SHIELDS SO YOU CAN LAUNCH THE DROP-PODS AND QUIT YOUR BITCHING!!!"

Much back and forth arguing had occurred, but Mofo's plan was agreed upon. Soon the Reclusiarch was thundering down through the atmosphere with a techmarine and cockknocker squad in tow. "REMEMBER THE PLAN, ASSFAGGOT?" Mofo inquired.

"FUCK YEAH I REMEMBER, YOU GO HAVE FUN, AND WE DO ALL THE FUCKING WORK!!!" Techmarine Techfucker replied.

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I'M GONNA HAVE FUN!!!" said Mofo.

The thunderhawk closed in on the void shielded city. The Chaos Space Marines and logic engines detecting their low flying craft entirely too late. The pilot servitor aimed just above the wall surrounding the fortress as it had computed were its instructions from the screaming and shouting the Reclusiarch had done before takeoff. The top of the walls had a thin slot where the void shields did not extend, but this space was not big enough to permit passage of an aircraft the size of a thunderhawk. Facts like this did not deter Angry Marines. The thunderhawk smashed against the lowest extension of the void shield, the uppermost sections of the craft being sheared off from the collision. The flaming remains of the craft shot over the parade grounds, and into the crenelated walls of the fortress proper.

"GET TO FUCKING WORK!!! THERE IS MUCH ASS TO BE BEATEN FOR THE EMPRAH THIS DAY!!!!" roared Mofo as he and his fellow Angry Marines removed themselves from the wreck. The Techmarine and cockknocker squad moved off to disengage or sabotage the void shields, whichever came first. Mofo had a different target.

-----

Thragarkis, the twice living, great servant of the Chaos, Warlord Triumphant of his warband of the Black Legion, gloated to himself in his throne room. "Oh this will be a mighty victory against the weak Imperium" he chortled.

"Yes master," said Aruel, his mortal savant.

"I have heard a report of intruders in this fastness, go and watch over the ritual. Insure that no mistakes are made. I would be very angry should a mistake be made over worries about a single crashed thunderhawk."

"As you desire master, your great work shall be completed, the gods shall be honored!" Aruel hurried from the throne room to carry out his master's orders.

Thragarkis looked through the fortress layouts in his tactical display, and compared them to the reports he was hearing over the vox channels his fellow Black Legionaries used. There was much fighting going on in the lower levels, and out upon the walls. Perhaps the rumors were true about this...'Angry Chapter'. No matter, there were no reports of violence in the passages leading to his sanctum or the ritual chamber beyond. He couldn't afford to let the psykers worry, they needed all their concentration for this. He would not allow his greatest work to be undone now, not when it was so close to completion.

Suddenly, he heard a blast from the side of his chamber. He turned to see a black armored Space Marine approach him through a ragged hole in the wall, a chaplain, and yes, there was his Crozius alight and ready as well. Bizarre that the Crozius, normally a vaunted and holy relic to his loyalist 'brothers', be shaped to form so crude an insult rather than some divine symbol of his chapter. This was a different chapter indeed.

"YOU, MECHANICAL DICKSUCKER, IMMA FUCKING BREAK YOUR METAL ASS!!" the figure roared.

Yes, very different indeed.

"Unlikely, little Chaplain. Soon, daemons will pour out from this fortress, you cannot stop them without getting through me, and I am Thragarkis! The twice living, ender of worl-."

"OH SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!!!" The figure charged! Most approached his unholy sarcophagus with some trepidation, but not this one!

Mofo let loose a horrid string of obscenities as he charged toward the pretentious faggot. Thragarkis fired off several rounds from its twin linked autocannons, but Mofo was so angry he nimbly dodged them, hellbent on getting at the metal bitch and letting him know just how much the Emprah hated him. Mofo dodged inside the dreadnought's guard, and planted his Crozius, Fag-Basher, into the front armor of the fucking thing. Thragarkis balled up his powerfist, and smashed Mofo solidly. Mofo was thrown back by the blow, but no sooner had he touched the ground than he was charging again. As the dreadnought launched another punch, Mofo leapt over the powerfist and threw himself on the front of the sarcophagus so he looked eye-to-eye with the vision port.

"JUDGEMENT, MOTHERFUCKER, IT'S COMING!!!" Mofo swore. With all his gene-enhanced strength, Mofo punched the vision block of Thragarkis's sarcophagus. Punch after punch, blow after blow he rained upon the dreadnought's vision port. All the while the dreadnought fired off autocannon rounds at random, his powerfist desperately trying to grab the chaplain and remove him from his chassis. "YOU" *punch* "PIECE" *punch* "OF" *punch* "SHIT" *punch* "GET" *punch* "OUT" *punch* "HERE!"

At last, the vision block shattered, and Mofo's fist drove forward into the amniotic tomb of Thragarkis. Foul liquids gushed out around Mofo's arm as he fished around inside the tank. At last he found Thragarkis' mortal form squirming around at the bottom. He grasped the fucker by the neck, and pulled his head out of the hole he made in the sarcophagus. It was a disgusting thing, like a wet white turd with the gratuitous number of 8 pointed fag marks carved and tattooed here and there. Thragarkis looked through hazy eyes at his killer, and trembled. How could the dark gods forsake their loyal servant like this?

"I GOT A MESSAGE FROM THE EMPRAH!!!" said Mofo. He then reared back his free arm, as if to throw another punch. Like lightning his arm shot forward into an accusing finger pointed right in Thragarkis' face, "FUCK YOU!!!" Then, grasping the fucker's neck with both hands, Mofo headbutted him repeatedly, his hardened helm smashing into Thragarkis' skull, caving in his head. When the turd's face looked like a cereal bowl, Mofo stopped. The last neural stutters of the heretic's dying brain caused the dreadnought to stutter, and fall onto its back.

Mofo neatly flipped forward, grabbing Fag-Basher on the way, and landing upright next to the dead faggot. Just as he landed, the set of doors leading into the adjoining ritual chamber opened. "My Lord, the void shields are down! Drop pods rain upon us. Your legion brothers await your words...Ohhhh-."

"TELL THEM THEY'RE ABOUT TO GET THEIR SHIT PUNCHED IN!" Mofo roared, as he sprinted towards the stunned savant.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: '' My Armor is Contempt, my Shield is Disgust, my Sword is Hatred. In The Emprah's name, let none survive...'' 
+++++ 

== The Fires of Forosia ==
*''Excerpted from "The Rolls of Redemption through Ultimate Sacrifice", an Ordo Xenos inventory of Exterminatus actions carried out in the Segmentum Pacificus'' 
*''Provided by Aerkon Pollock, last surviving adjutant to Planetary Governor Gorm Leass, 655.M42'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

In the middle of year 654.M41, the Forosian system was invaded by a large fleet of Draethri Xenos. The ships overwhelmed the orbital defenses in rapid fashion, and dropships swarmed over the hive cities and manufactorums in a fast and brutal raid. Fortunately for Forosia, astropathic messages pleading for aid were answered. However, the nearest response force consisted of two battle barges belonging to the "Angry Marine" Astartes Chapter.
The Astartes response to the alien incursion was so much swifter and so much more brutal than the initial Draethri invasion, that the Imperial forces who had been fighting a desperate defense against the Xenos suffered numerous casualties due to entire regiments standing dumbstruck and horrified by the violence they were witnessing. Such cases resulted in troopers forgetting to defend themselves or pay attention to the enemies left in front of them for fear of missing a second of the action. Such behavior seems believable given the reports of Angry Marine Terminator squads ripping off sections of their sacred armor and beating numerous aliens to death with them, and other reports of the Angry Marines force feeding Draethri captives their own bleeding innards.
It was later discovered that the Draetheri fleet was an amalgamation of ships from several worlds their race had inhabited in the southern reaches of Segmentum Pacificus. These worlds were in the path of a far flung tendril of Hive Fleet Leviathan, and were soon to be invaded and consumed. So badly were the Draetheri routed from Forosia, however, that they fled back to their home worlds to face the Tyranid hive fleet. Their leaders considered extinction by the Tyranids preferable to facing the Angry Marines again.
The Angry Marines are not known for their restraint, which leads to the subject of this record. One month after the last living Xenos died on Forosia, the planet was destroyed in Exterminatus. The Angry Marines described an insidious foe that could not be destroyed by any conventional means, and had apparently waited to ambush them just as the Draetheri force was destroyed. The following transcript has been provided by Aerkon Pollock, the last surviving adjutant to the Planetary Governor, Gorm Leass.

Transcript Begins:
-----
"Brother Captain, the Forosian Planetary Council and I have a request to make of you and your Battle Brothers," said Governor Leass. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT NOW, COCK STINK!," replied Brother-Captain Shit-Ripper, leader of the Angry Marine task force. "The Xenos are routed, and I speak for the entire planet when I express the deepest of gratitude for your help in preserving our fair planet," Leass started. "But now we have a severe threat to our planet left behind by the Draetheri. Our Hives and Manufactorums have severely damaged municipal systems. Fires rage through two of our manufactorums completely unchecked. We have no capacity to put them out. Entire stocks of weapons and food rations made ready for nearby warzones and military campaigns are being destroyed in stockyards because of these infernos. We humbly ask if you could provide some assistance in neutralizing this threat?" Brother-Sergeant Fuckus-Them-Uppus replied for his Captain, "FUCK NO, I'M NOT YOUR BITCH SERVITOR, YOU FUCKING PRICK." "SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH, UPPUS," said Captain Shit-Ripper. "FAGGOTS," he said, turning to his assembled companies, "WE BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF ORKS, RIGHT!?" "FUCK YEAH WE DO!", shouted a marine. "KICK THEIR COCKS IN!", another chimed. Shit-Ripper continued "AND WE TEAR THOSE ELDAR CUNTS INTO CHUNKS, RIGHT?!" "I HATE THOSE FAIRY PANTSHITTERS", a Belligerent Engine groaned. "WELL, THOSE FUCKERS BREAK SHIT WHICH BELONGS TO THE EMPRAH!!!", announced the Captain,"AND THIS FIRE IS BREAKING HIS SHIT TOO! LETS RIP THIS FIRE A NEW ASSHOLE!!! ALWAYS ANGRY!!!!!" "ALL THE TIME!!", answered the assembled Marines. "Thank you so much Captain, we will convene immediately with the Mechanicum and-" "FUCK THOSE WIND-UP ASSHOLES, WE KNOW HOW TO KILL FIRE!!! WITH FIRE!!!", roared Captain Shit-Ripper.
-----
Transcript Ends;

The Angry Marines attacked the fires as they would any other of the Imperium's foes-- with Power Wrench and Chainsword, Heavy Bolter and Melta Gun. That very day, the Fires sweeping through the Manufactorums grew by an order of magnitude. The next week saw the fires spreading into the hive cities.
Millions died trying to escape the blaze. Matters were not helped when the Angry Marines, growing alarmed at the Fire's refusal to die in the Emperor's name, resorted to tactics most extreme to kill it. The Angry Marines loaded explosives onto cargo ships, which had been previously delegated to evacuate refugees off-planet, and flown into the blazing spires. Even orbital bombardments did not cause the flames to abate. Ultimately, the Angry Marines resorted to Exterminatus-- to prevent this grave threat to the Imperium from spreading to other worlds.

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''"Only the insane have strength enough to prosper. Only those who prosper may truly judge what is sane." '' 
+++++ 

== A Day In the Life of an Angry Marine. ==
*''Excerpted from Angry Marines Codex and further compiled from field-reports by P.Al. Nitschittery, Imperial Inquisitor, Junior Class'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

*4:00 - Morning INSULTS - Led by the Company Chaplain, the Space Marines BETTER GET THEIR PUSSY ASSES IN ORDER BEFORE I STICK A POWER FOOT SO FAR UP SAID ANUS THEY WISH THEY WERE A SQUAT YOU CUNT!. 
*5:00 - Morning Firing Rites - The Space Marines engage in target practice with their personal and squad weaponry, awards and punishments are dispensed FOR BULLSHIT OR A LACK THEREOF AND IF ANY FUCKING SHIT FUCKER THINKS OTHERWISE TOMORROWS PRACTICE WILL BE A ROUSING GAME OF LICK THE CATACHAN BARKING TOAD YOU FUCKING WANK STAINS. 
*6:00 - Early Morning Meal - A light meal is prepared by the Chapter serfs. OH YES WE FUCKING EAT EGG AND SAUSAGE BREAKFAST SANDWICHES BY THE FUCKING TRUCKLOAD! WE ALSO DRINK FUCKTONS OF SUNNY D BECAUSE THAT SHIT IS FUCKING SWEET! WE ALSO SEND THE PRETTY FAGGOTS AND ULTRASMURFS A THOUSAND DONUTS WHILE WE WATCH SOME HIGH FUCKING QUALITY CARTOONS.
*7:00 - Battle Practice - BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF SHIT WITH YOUR POWER BAT, OR, BARRING THAT, JUST BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF SHIT WITH WHATEVER'S AVAILABLE. AND IF YOU'RE TOO PANTS ON HEAD RETARDED TO FIND SOMETHING TO HIT THEN YOU BETTER FUCKING START BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF THE GROUND BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED THIS PLANET HASN'T CONFESSED ITS SINS AGAINST THE EMPRAH. 
*12:00 - Midday Prayer - ANY ONE NOT TOO STUPID TO HIT THEMSELVES PRACTICES SCREAMING AT SHIT. EVERYONE ELSE CAN GO SUCK THE APOTHECARY'S DICK BECAUSE YOU DON'T NEED ANY MEDICINE FOR THAT TINY LITTLE BOLTER WOUND YOU FUCKTARD. 
*13:00 - Midday Meal - Normally local wildlife killed during the morning activities. AND BELIEVE ME WE KILL A LOT OF FUCKING BUNNY RABBITS AND PEPPERS AND SHIT AND EAT ALL OF IT AND LEAVE NONE FOR YOU. BOO-HOO, BITCH. 
*13:15 - Tactical Indoctrination - THIS USUALLY DOESN'T TAKE THIS LONG. I'LL JUST PUT UP A BIG PICTURE OF THE NEXT THING WE'RE GONNA SHOOT AND SAY "SHOOT THIS YOU FUCKERS" SERIOUSLY, WHO THE FUCK NEEDS AN HOUR AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES TO DO THAT. PUSSIES, THAT'S WHO. 
*15:00 - Battle Practice - SEE ABOVE IF YOU'RE NOT WEARING A NECKBRACE YOU INCOMPETENT LITTLE NIPPLE LICKER. WE HIT MORE SHIT WITH LARGER OBJECTS. 
*20:00 - Evening Prayer - I THINK YOU GET THE IDEA. I'M NOT GOING OVER THIS AGAIN. FUCK YOU. 
*21:00 - Evening Meal - A feast (by normal human standards) is provided by the Chapter serfs, and some Chapter Masters may allow alcohol to be consumed. FUCK YEAH IT IS. WE'LL ORDER LIKE A THOUSAND PIZZA'S TO THE PRETTY MARINES HOME WORLD AND THEN WE'LL STICK IN THE DVD'S OF ''BLOSSOM'' OR ''7TH HEAVEN'' OR...REALLY HARDCORE PORN. FUCK YOU, LITTLE FAGGOT SHOW WATCHING SHOW WATCHERS. GO WRITE IN YOUR LIVE JOURNAL. 
*21:30 - Night Firing Exercises - WE SPEND MORE TIME. HITTING MORE THINGS. WITH LARGER OBJECTS. IN THE DARK, FUKKEN DUH. 
*23:15 - Maintenance Rituals - FIX YOUR SHIT OR I'LL GRAB A TECH-PRIEST AND MAKE HIM FIX YOUR SHIT. ONE OF THOSE CLAUSES IS LITERAL. 
*23:45 - Free Time - Space Marines are permitted this time to reflect upon their duty to The Emperor, however many Chapter Masters regard free time as a frivolous waste, and a dangerous distraction in the extreme. EXCEPT WATCHING ''BLOSSOM''. FUCK YOU. 
*00:00 - Rest Period - BUT YOU BETTER NOT SPEND FOUR WHOLE HOURS SLEEPING. IF YOU DO YOU ARE NOT ANGRY ENOUGH AND TOMORROW YOU GET THE FIRST CHANCE TO PLAY ''PIN THE TAU ON THE CARNIFEX''. 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise.'' 
+++++ 

== The Rise of Librarian Moarfistin, the Extremely Cross ==

* ''Transcribed from the files of'' Vyler, Deviant Ecclesiastic of Holy Terra.
* ''Profile'' #d4fppg6'': Librarian Moarfistin, the Extremely Cross''
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Some say that before being brought into the chapter for initiation Moarfistin was a proctologist's assistant on a far flung Imperial colony. It was on that colony that an experimental plague released by Nurgle cultists caused a widespread pandemic of deadly dysentery.

The colony did not have a large population, and the colony's doctors, including his master, were the first targeted by the horrific disease. Being the only trained professional for his line of work, all the cases fell upon him. He slaved for months, mired in faeces and the corpses of his loved ones. A hellish life of failure and perpetual disgust eventually took its toll and he became increasingly violent and angry. One morning, he awoke to find that the last living colonists had shat themselves to death all over his equipment, and that the faeces had transformed into capering Nurglings. At this point his psychic powers manifested, and, records say, he "completely lost his shit".

The cultists were absolutely gleeful that their plague had done its work and killed the entire population; little did they know that one man, reinforced by a healthy diet high in fibre and latent psychic powers, had survived. A furious Moarfistin (as he would become known, original records on his true identity have been lost) came screaming over the horizon surrounded in a nimbus of psychic energy and as angry as at least 25 motherfuckers. Caught off guard, and then caught with medical instruments up their colons, the cultists knew true despair. This unstoppable path of destruction continued among the heretics as the newly born Moarfistin continued to force larger and larger objects up each individual anus.

[[File:Librarian_moarfistin_the_extremely_cross_by_vyler-d4fppg6(single_pose).jpg|thumb|right|''To see the sculpture of Librarian Moarfistin from which this entry is based, [[Angry_Marines#Gallery|see the gallery]]''. ''For the deviantart page where Librarian Moarfistin was sculpted, click here [http://j.mp/uC7r7m].'' ]]

Far away, an Angry Marine battle barge travelling the warp was buffeted by the waves of pure, seething, righteous rage. Impressed with this display of anger, and utterly furious that "pizza day" lunch had been interrupted, they diverted course to the world. There they found Moarfistin standing atop of pile of embarrassingly mutilated corpses; not a single daemon or cultist had survived. The scrawny, glowing figure was recorded as shouting: "THAT OUGHT TO SHUT YOUR FUCKING SHIT BOXES, YOU DRIBBLING CUNTS!!"

Although Space Marines usually recruit from feral worlds with hardy, muscular warriors, an exception was made for this otherwise scrawny butt doctor turned mad berserker. He was recruited immediately into the Librarium, where he would rise to a high rank.

Armed with the terrifying "Fisting Stick" and traveling in his mighty battle-barge, "Considerable Shouting", the Angry Marines [[Librarian]], Moarfistin is currently leading the Somethingth Company of Angry Marines on a Crusade to "COMPLETELY FUCK UP THOSE VAGINA HEAD TAU". He decided to do this after accidentally viewing Gundam fanart of a particularly disturbing nature. Unfortunately (for all the enemies of the Imperium between point A and point B) he started the crusade while on the complete opposite end of the galaxy from the Tau Empire. 

When an allied inquisitor questioned the sanity of plotting a course directly through the Eye of Terror, Moarfistin replied "IT WILL BE THE BLEEDING ASSHOLE OF TERROR WHEN I'M DONE WITH IT!!". To prove his point he then impaled a carnifex with its own head and gave the inquisitor a full body Apache burn as well as wedgie, all within the span of eleven seconds. 

The "Somethingth Company" of Angry Marines is named as it is because the normally chaotic organization of the Chapter is compounded by fact that Moarfistin recruited for the Crusade by simply yelling "YOU STUPID SHITS DON'T LOOK BUSY!! GET ON BOARD, WE'RE KILLING SOME FUCKING XENOS!!". Thus began what is anticipated to be a very long, bloody campaign. 

Menacing as Librarian Moarfistin's appearance is, some would wonder why he lacks a psychic hood. To which he responds "I DON'T NEED A GOOFY LOOKING MAGIC HAT TO PROTECT ME FROM HERETICAL BULLSHIT!" 

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Any problem can be solved with the proper application of power boots to the groin.'' 
+++++ 

===continuation of Moarfistin's story===

Moarfistin is the Chief Mindfucker of the Angry Marines, the equivalent of a Chief Librarian of an Astartes chapter. Due to a tragic incident involving a Nurgle cult unleashing a plague at his home colony, Moarfistin was driven to insanity, but this was also when he discovered his latent abilities as a psyker and was picked up and immediately recruited by the Angry Marines. Having risen very quickly up through the chapters ranks and now possessing his own battle barge (Considerable Shouting) Moarfistin decided to start his very own crusade against the Tau (FUCKING CHEESE LOVING CUNT HEADS!!!) and founded his very own company, the Somethingth Company, which was made up of all the Angry Marines nearby who didn’t have anything better to do and felt like a road trip to fuck up some xenos was an excellent idea.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, it is all, after all, a matter of one’s perspective) for Moarfistin his route across the galaxy (an initially quiet and pleasant one as it only went straight through the EYE OF TERROR) has been made even more difficult due to the formation of the Cicatrix Maledictum, the galaxy wide shit hole which now bisects, intertwines and flat out covers Moarfistin’s route. This has him furious on multiple levels as firstly “FUCKING CHOAS SHIT EATING CUNTS!!!”, secondly “THE FUCKING NURGLINGS ARE GETTING IN THE WAY OF ME FISTING SOME VAGINA FISH!!! And thirdly “NOW I HAVE TO START ANOTHER FUCKING CRUSADE!!! I DON’T HAVE FUCKING TIME FOR THIS!!!” As it stands, Moarfistin and his crusade are sitting right in the middle of the galactic tear in the maelstrom, and has the choice of setting up camp and simply cruising up and down the Maledictum fighting anything and everything he finds, or to ignore the galaxy wide toilet and keep on ploughing through to tau territory.

Being the smart and proactive psychic nut case that he is, Moarfistin has decided to do both, and currently has his crusade raiding and pillaging all nearby daemon worlds, cultist hideouts and chaos space marine vessels to build a brand new battle barge named the “Suicidal Insanity”, and has split his crusade down the middle (rather literally as there were an odd number of marines, said marine now has two bionic legs and an arm and his removed limbs were grafted onto a servitor), with the Suicidal Insanity staying behind to perform a crusade up and down the Maledictum, while Considerable Shouting continues onto the Tau worlds.

This still leaves the issue of who is to command the Suicidal Insanity while Moarfistin goes vagina hunting, a problem with Moarfistin had another elegant solution to, and that is to make a copy of himself to command his new crusade, using his warp presence to power it, an idea he immediately dropped (AND WAS MOST CERTAINLY NOT THE MAIN PLOT POINT IN THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THIS STORY!!! NO HERESEY TO BE SEEN HERE!!!) as being too crazy even for him. That left his second (AND TOTALLY NON-HERETICAL!!!) last idea which would be to promote a likeminded Angry Marine to the rank of company captain, and too this end he gathered all the Angry Marines together under his command into the mess hall of the Considerable Shouting. “ALRIGHT YOU SACKS OF FUCKING GROZ MANURE!!!” He bellowed at the collected marines “LAST ONE STANDING GETS TO BE IN CHARGE OF THE NEW SHIP!!!” He had barely finished saying “in charge” before (in true Angry marine style) the Angry Marines started fighting, with broken bottles, power bats, honey badgers, power feet and even other Angry Marines being used as bludgeoning tools.

Having seen this display plenty of times before, Moarfistin joined in for a few minutes to knock out a few marines that he just didn’t like then retired to his quarters, knowing that the entire company of marines would be fighting for quite a while, and even a good fight gets boring when it’s been going for several days. 2 days, 9 hours, 23 minutes, 6 seconds and three massive shits later, Moarfistin returned to the mess hall to see who was left standing, passing down the corridors filled with bruised, battered and swearing marines being patched up with duct tape, to find only two marines left still punching each other in their now shattered helmets. “WILL YOU FUCKING HURRY UP YOU CUNTS!!!” He shouted at the two remaining marines “I’VE GPT SOME WEEABOOS TO GO AND FIST BEFORE SLASNESHMAS COMES AROUND AGAIN!!!” The arrival of Moarfistin had roused the marines capable of being roused, who formed a circle around the fighters to add their insults to the fight “FUCKING KICK HIS NUTS!!!” “IVE SEEN ELDAR PANSIES PUNCH BETTER!!!” “CAN YOU FUCKING HURRY UP, SO WE CAN FUCKING EAT!!!” The added insults had the desired effect, as both fighters pulled back their right legs and simultaneously delivered savage kicks to the others privates, instantly knock both of them over into moaning heaps on the floor. “FUCK THIS SHIT!!!” Exclaimed Moarfistin “I CAN’T BE FUCKED WAITING ARPUND FOR YOU TO FIGHT AGAIN!!! YOUR NOW BOTH THE CAPTAINS OF THE NEW COMPANY NOW I’M OFF TO KICK SOME TAU IN THE CUNTS!!!”

And just like that, Moarfistin continued his journey (he is now fighting his way through the outskirts of tau space) leaving the two new company captains (now named Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt) on the Suicidal Insanity in charge of the (aptly named) “WHY DO WE HAVE TO FOLLOW THOSE CUNTS?!!!” Company. While Moarfistin’s crusade can be kept track of via the trail of destroyed (and fisted) tau worlds, nothing is currently known of the Suicidal Insanity and it’s two captains, but it is assumed that continued their crusade instead of punching each other for all eternity.

++++++++++

Thought for the day: Beware the Weeaboo, the waifu, the loli.

++++++++++

== Fuckew McHugerage ==

* ''Audio file #002521220, recovered from <s>Gamorax Colony</s> Gamorax debris field
* ''Final notes of'' Inquisitor Phorik
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

Great hero of the Angry Marines, Captain Fuckew "Nid-fucker" McHugerage, is Ranking Captain of the Second Company and imbued with the honorific title "SUPREME LARGE FURIOUS FUCKER OF THE TYRANIDS", of which the Angry Marines only have one at a given time.

This honorific is earned by a supreme act of absolutely unfettered rage that even the Angry Marines find impressive. Indeed, Fuckew Mchugerage is one of the most accomplished psychopaths of the Angry Marines.

Fuckew was known in particular for his incredible anger whenever faced by any foe who had more than one leg. While his one weakness is that he is rather sedate when faced with one-legged foes (he only screams at a moderate volume and force-feeds his defeated foes only one or two of their own limbs), his rage is multiplied as the amount of legs on a foes increases to a level rivaling that of Temperus himself.

This came to a boil in his first engagement with the Tyranids. As he and his second company, with him at the lead, fought the Tyranid hordes, he screamed with such rage that the Hive Mind itself recoiled and its control over the swarms was impaired. It was recorded that the day of the battle, a 9000-man Imperial Guard regiment in the nearby vicinity simply exploded as the wave of PURE ANGER hit them.

Coming face to face with an eight-limbed Hive Tyrant, Fucke-

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''From the sheer force of anger and rage overwhelming shall be borne fire to cleanse heresy.'' 
+++++ 

== An Inelegant Snub ==
*''Excerpted from the diaries of Lieutenant Pretentiousness, beautiful servant of The Emperor and amazingly good looking soldier of the Pretty Marines'' 
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

The beautiful sun rose high above the glorious desert planet and I looked in wonder at the beauty The Emperor had graced us with. I turned to Brother Starr, his microphone held high as he prepared to give a beautifully arousing speech to all the brothers gathered there. I turned quickly to brush a speck of dust off that had landed on my armor, and breathed a sigh of relief that no one had seen that. As Brother Starr gave his address I looked into the sky and beheld a yellow Thunderhawk streaming toward the planet. It landed a few meters away kicking dust in all directions.

"Brothers, evasive action!" Each member of the chapter pulled out his industrial strength hair dryer, the flashes of purple lighting up the terrain below as the brothers tried in vain to keep the dust from dirtying their armor. It was of no avail, I heard wails of despair... there would be much washing tonight. I looked out over the landscape to see several yellow glints rushing toward the lines of our chapter. I looked closer and saw the figures of five yellow-clad Space Marines rushing toward us. Three of them held what looked like glorified wrenches, and the fourth carried a most unsightly banner. The fifth marine was hidden behind a mass of cardboard he carried with him. I heard their scream as they drew closer, drowning out all other sound, a horribly insensitive scream that rose above all other noise.
"SUCK ON THIS, YOU PANSIFIED FAGGOTS!!" The one carrying the cardboard dropped all of it and the five stood for a second. 

"ALWAYS ANGRY!" 

"ALL THE TIME!" 

The five turned and ran back the way they had come, and as their ship lifted off I saw several middle fingers on the side of the ship, still wet with new paint, and bearing the name, "The Bird". I turned away in disgust, gracefully raising my chin.

I stepped down toward the mass of cardboard, helping brothers remove dust from their hair on the way.

I approached the mass of cardboard that had marred our beautiful desert landscape. Lying next to it was a small piece of paper. I knelt down and gingerly picked up the paper and turned it over.

Printed on the paper was a receipt for 1001 pizzas with anchovies and pineapple, upon which was scrawled a crude imitation of my own signature. On the bottom one word was written in red ink, barely legible: 

<center>'''OWNED'''</center>

+++++ 
Thought for the Day: ''Consider the magnitude of your duty at leisure, but act without hesitation when action is required.'' 
+++++ 

== The Green-Hands Heresy ==
*''From the historical records of'' Inquisitor Seros'', investigator of Adeptus Astartes'' "Incidents" 
*Section #7193: ''The Green-Hands Heresy "Incident" of Kickass Prime''
<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

I was sent to the planet of “Kickass Prime”, a planet claimed by a chapter of Battle Brothers known as the “Angry Marines”. This particular sector of the Marines had referred to themselves as the “Brawndo” sector of the Chapter due to their love of an energy drink from the Dark Age of Technology. This love of a drink, Emperor knows how they obtained some of the original in the first place, had caused them to complain to various sources until the item in question was mass produced. The drink spread across the Chapter like a Tyranid swarm and the sector was allowed to keep the name due to the drink being “''ULTRA FUCKING SWEET!''”

The problem I was sent to solve, however, did not involve the drink. Rather, there were claims of Heresy amongst the ranks of the Angry Marines. It seems sometime during a cleansing of Ork, the Angry Marines took upon the “choppas” of the fallen Ork horde. While this itself is slightly Heretical, for they have slightly shunned the holy weapons of the Emperor, another blasphemy had occurred within the sector. One of the sergeants of the sector took great pride in felling a particularly large Ork and wanted its “Big Choppa” as a trophy. Unfortunately, the death-grip of the beast was too strong, even for a mighty Space Marine, and so the weapon remained in the clutch of the Ork. Not to be denied his prize, the sergeant proceeded to cut the hands off the Ork at the wrists. Afterward, when the beast was be-handed, as the case would be, the sergeant again tried to remove the hands to no-avail. This infuriated the already wrathful sergeant further. The sergeant subsequently summoned an apothecary to chop off his hands, and replace them with the Ork’s. This was Heresy beyond simply taking a fallen weapon; this was denying the hands given to him by the holy Gene-seed!

When I arrived on the planet, one of my main questions was: 'Why was this not reported by the sector and instead reported by another Chapter?'

I was given the same reply from everyone I asked: “''BECAUSE IT WAS REALLY FUCKING AWESOME, ASSHOLE!''” Apparently in the time after the sergeant had committed this deed, others followed his example, taking not only the weapons of the Orks, but also other body parts. I’m more than certain there was a marine with an Ork head replacing a pauldron. This I could not stand, I demanded to see the sergeant responsible for the mess. They lead me to the sergeant now known as “Greenhands”. The name was suitable, for there he was, the giant Ork hands looking ridiculous attached to his comparatively normal marine arms. He had the Choppa hung over his back when he accosted me, asking “''WHAT IN THE SERIOUS FUCK ARE ONE OF YOU INQUISITORS DOING HERE?!! SHOULDN’T YOU BE OUT LOOKING FOR CHAOS OR SOME SHIT?!''” I replied to him that I was indeed here due to claims of Heresy. In retrospect, I should not have said that. From the moment I uttered "Heresy", the whole of the camp within earshot began frantically running around cursing wildly, looking for any sign of Heresy they could find so they could stomp it out. This did please me, somewhat. It could very well have been that these Brothers were not Heretical, merely... simple-minded.

After about half an hour and a few small mammals squashed and shot repeatedly at point-blank range with bolters, Sgt. Greenhands returned to me and assured me that any possible Heresy had been wiped out. I told him that the Heresy was due to his weapon and new appendages. He berated me and asked if anyone told me how “''REALLY FUCKING AWESOME''” it was. I assured him that his fellow Battle Brothers did indeed tell me this was the case, but carrying an enemy’s weapon instead of a holy weapon given to him by fellow servants of the Emperor and replacing his hands with an enemy’s was indeed Heresy. The sergeant thought on this for a minute before calling for one of the sector’s Chaplains. After explaining to him that I was here because of his new weapon and because I “''WOULDN’T KNOW AWESOME IF IT BIT HIM''[me]''ON THE ASS''” he asked if the Chaplain could do anything to “''SHUT THIS PUSSY UP!''” The Chaplain looked at me and commenced a verbal tirade that very possibly rivaled that of the sergeant's. At any rate, he then reached into his pouch for a Purity Seal. He took one out, wrote some words on the paper attached (which I can only hope were Holy Sermons of the Emperor), and then proceeded to place the Purity Seal onto the weapon. The Chaplain then stood before me and without looking back, pointed at the Choppa and said “''SANCTIFIED, BITCH!''”

I then proceeded to take my leave of the Angry Marines, assuring them they would be cleared of all Heresy charges as long as they continued to cleanse the Ork weapons of taint but this would not be excused if such matters were extended to Chaos Weapons. The Chaplain agreed saying, “''WE KNOW NOT TO TAKE ANYTHING FROM THOSE CHAOS FUCKS, ASSHOLE!''” He then pulled my undergarments over my head and kicked me onto my transport.

I have written this report standing up.

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Thought for the Day: ''Faith in the Emprah is the strongest weapon we have.''

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== The Shitkicking Skirmish ==

* ''Extracted from the Imperial archives on Holy Terra.''
* ''Dataport #55892B, Section 87D-3A, Adm.Sublevel 12.''
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The pissed off Angry Marines on board the Cruiser ”IFUCKDURMOM” were rushing to the nearest drop pods, wanting to be the first one knocking the shit out of the Chaosfags attacking the imperial world 'Pandaemonium Prime'. The Chaos Marines of the Emperors Children had begun an orgy of murder, rape and recording furry porn to please their dark masters.

”''COCKSUCKING FUCKING ARSEBISCUITS''” one of the Angry Marines bellowed as a squad of Angry Marines rushed to the surface in a drop pod. This traditional pre-mission term of imminent shitkicking was hailed by roars and profanities as the pissed off death dealers started punching and headbutting the interior of the drop pod.

The arrival on the surface of the planet was as violent as to be expected.

Brother-Chaplain Smackface saw the reinforcements and immediately proceeded to give orders to the newcomers. ”''TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH YOU COCKGOBBLERS, WE HAVE ORDERS TO FUCK SHIT UP, KICK ASS AND MAKE SURE THE CHAOSFAGS TAKE THE FUCKING HINT THIS TIME!!!''”. Even during a heated firefight Brother Chaplain Smackface was as usual more detailed in his description of the situation than most commanders in the Chapter. To which one marine remarked; ”''OH JUST LET US AT THEM ALREADY YOU BITCHING ASSJOCKEY!!''”. The Chaplain, cursing and infuriated, immediately picked up the marine and threw him in a perfect arch into the fray.

The marine, nicknamed 'Shitkicker', found himself flying in a perfect arch into the fray and landing amidst a large group of cultists adorned in pink, chains, leather and fursuits. Before the cultists could even react to the surprising arrival of the yellow pissed off character, the Angry Marine let off a string of four-letter curses, infuriated with a burning rage by the pussypantsfaggotry. And within milliseconds he became a blur, tearing the cultists apart, limb by limb, still letting off violent tirades of obscenities at the chaos worshipers around him.

After ripping off the heads of countless heretics, Chaplain Smackface arrived with the squad Shitkicker had arrived with. “''SO YOU WORTHLESS CUNT MANAGED NOT TO WHINE, CRY AND DIE LIKE A BITCH? WELL IF YOU DON'T STOP ARSING ABOUT AND FOLLOW ME I'LL RAPE YOUR SKULL OPEN WITH A GIANT SPIKY DILDO, YOU DILDO!!!''”. After given these new orders Shitkicker started to sprint with the other marines. Their objective soon became apparent after he heard the thumping sound of large chaos dreadnoughts.

“''THESE CHAOSFAGS DON'T FUCKING GET THAT IF WE KILL YOU, YOU BETTER STAY DEAD AND BUTTFUCKED OR ELSE WE'LL SKULLFUCK YOUR SORRY ASS SOME MORE!!''” the chaplain calmly stated after seeing the dreadnoughts making their way towards the main body of the angry marine taskforce. Knowing that if the enemy would engage the other Angry Marines before they could get their hands on the chaosfags still pants-on-head retarded enough to be named the “''EMPERORS'' children”, the other angry marines would rip them to pieces and not leaving any asskicking for Chaplain Smackface and his squad.

While moving through the vast army of furryfuckers and pinktards, delivering some serious lecturing about what happens when you even think about heresy, the contingent of Angry Marines were closing in on the dreadnoughts. The chaplain quickly assessed the situation and exclaimed the mighty battlecry of the Angry Marines; ''FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-''

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Thought of the day: ''Heresy is the very definition of "Doing it wrong".''

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== Recruitment By Fire ==

* ''An excerpt from the Journal of Brother-Sergeant Josephus Corric, 6th Company of the Angry Marines, former Imperial Guard, Corporal of the 40th Infantry (Mechanized), Echo Company'' 
*'' Regarding events during 995.M41 on Gudrun, Helican Segmentum Obscurus'' 

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We were moving forward to assault this Enemy held outpost when we were stopped by a company of Traitor Marines. Us softies, well, we’re no match for all that power armor and lets be candid, the standard IG issue lasgun is about as effective against power armor as harsh language.

The Enemy was dug in to this hillside deep and good. They had thrown up earthworks and camouflaged the area pretty well. Nothing had showed up on our auspex or geothermal imaging. We walked right into the area without warning and the Enemy began shooting.

It was not pretty. Textbook ambush that could have come right from basic tactics class. The Enemy waited until half of the company had passed them and then opened fire. They had at least two quad-linked heavy bolters hidden in those hills. The incoming fire was so thick I thought I could see individual bolter rounds as they were fired.

The first ranks of men were mowed down so quickly they didn't even have time to scream. One moment they were there, the next there were just steaming body parts oozing blood.

The ranks farther back... well, I don’t think I’ll ever forget those screams. The Enemy swung those quads over the line of men and watched them fall. Farther back, the rounds weren’t as effective; that is, they did not kill cleanly. The Enemy seemed to take a perverse joy in shooting the wounded. Listening to them scream, watching them bleed...
We paid a heavy price for relying on those Adeptus Mechanicus instruments rather than our eyes. That won't happen again, I can tell you.

As we sought cover, I noticed that no one was giving orders. I expected some Commissar or officer to start rallying the men and when that didn’t happen it dawned on me that I was the ranking man. Talk about a weird sensation, being in charge and all. Surreal.

I figured that since the Astartes get all the credit, they might as well do the heavy lifting. So I made the command decision to call them in. Our company was supported by the Angry Marines and I got their vox frequency off my dead lieutenant.

“This is 40th ID, Echo company, transmit to Astartes detachment. We are south south-east 22 clicks from debarkation and have had our advance halted by fortified Enemy located at coordinates 37 23.516 ...”

“WHADDAYA WANT??!!”

I was startled by the abrupt reply that overrode my vox transmission. “Uh, well, we encountered some Traitor Marines dug in...”

“WHAT??? PANSY ASSES HIDING IN THE GROUND?!! WHERE??!!”

“37 23.516 -122 02.625" I said, giving the location of the GPS coordinates.

There was an uncomfortable pause on the vox.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT???!!!”

I reasoned they were experiencing mechanical difficulties with their instruments. So, I figured I'd describe some landmarks. “Uh, well, we’re by this mountain and there is a stream near by...”

“LIGHT A FUCKING FLARE, YOU ASSHOLE!!! MARK THE DZ AND GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!!!”

I was a bit taken back. “Very well. Watch for the green flares.”

There was no response from the vox.

I got my troops to mark a zone a few hundred meters from our position and then we waited. I listened to the vox and gathered intel. Seems that there was some heavy atmospheric interference and that only sub orbital craft could be used.

I heard the sound of roaring engines at full thrust. Four Valkyries entered our airspace, their thrusters on full as they came in low. Was the rear hatch open? I could see glints of red and yellow through the small gaps in the hatch. Were the occupants crouched and ready to ... jump? No, that had to be a mistake, no one inserts a ground assault at full throttle...

“GET OUTTA THE WAY, CUNTSICLE!!!” I heard through the vox. The Valkyries did not slow as they approached. In fact, they seemed to speed up. When the Valkyries were directly over our position, the marines ... jumped. I’d never seen anything like it.

In seconds there were sixteen yellow and red figures raining from the sky, each armed with ... bats and wrenches?

“WE GOT US SOME HEADS TO CRACK!” We got out of the way, alright. The marines came down on the Enemy position mere meters from the redoubt. The Enemy was surprised too, they didn’t even fire. The yellow and red wave crashed over the redoubt and the combat was joined, hand to hand. Or wrench to head, as it were.

I stood up to get a better look at the battle. No, this was carnage and I wanted to join. I wanted payback for the ambush. “For the Emperor!!! For the Fortieth!!! FORWARD!!!” I yelled. Echo company sprang from their cover and rushed the redoubt. We took the position and mopped up what the marines left us. Literally. There was not much left and what was left could fit in a bucket.

In the midst of the slaughter, I noticed a change in the battle. We were no longer moving up the redoubt. Fact was, we were not moving at all. We were taking cover from plasma bolts that were being shot from further within the hillside. I moved along side a Marine that was cleaning bits of a helmet from the jaws of his power wrench.

“Status, Sir?” I asked after saluting.

The marine looked up from his cleaning, “WE’RE GETTING SHOT AT, ASSHOLE!!! YOU NEED ME TO TELL YOU THAT?!!!”

Indeed, we were. The forces of the Enemy had established another system of redoubts and had fortified them with plasma emplacements. Which were laying down an impressive suppressing fire. The Angry Marines were, well, angry, but not stupid. No one charges into plasma guns fired from a fortified redoubt. So there we all were, taking cover in that trench, waiting for... Well, I was not sure what we were waiting for. I was sure that no one was going to charge into that plasma.

The marines conferred with one another. I heard snippets of their conversation: “TOO FUCKING FAR...OUT OF RANGE...THOSE FUCKING FUCKS...CANT GET THE FUCKING ANGRINATOR IN HERE...WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LISTENING TO, ASSHOLE??!!!” The last comment was directed at me. “Sorry.”

“DAMN RIGHT, YOU ARE!!!” Just then the Marine with the power wrench stood at the redoubt’s edge and yelled, “FUCKING PANSIES!!! STOP SHOOTING!!! HONORLESS WIMPS!!!” He threw the piece of helmet he had freed from the wrench’s jaw. There was still something in that helmet...

Incredibly, the fire stopped. Even the Marines were surprised.

“Worshipers of the corpse-emperor! Surrender and welcome the embrace of Chaos!!!” The voice was silky smooth and deep, yet deadly. Like broken glass in ice cream.

All of the marines began screaming insults in return. They were imaginative and dealt mainly with detailed instructions on how the Enemy could fornicate with a Catachan devil. This then progressed into fornication with plasma engines, then fornication with various edged weapons, and then fornication with their mothers and other ancestors. It was getting... repetitive.

I figured I should do something. I approached the Angry Marine with the wrench. He paused in his insults and took notice of my presence. “Let me try”, I said.

“YOU UP FOR THIS, FUCKFACE?!” He bellowed. I did not get the impression that he was purposely hostile toward me; this seemed to be his usual means of address. “Yessir!” I replied.

“HAVE AT IT!!!” Grinning, he gestured rudely toward the Enemy ranks and stepped aside.

Incredibly, the Angry Marines stopped shouting. They were still seething, the air between them charged with heated rage, but they did not utter a word. All eyes were on me.

“This is Corporal Josephus Corrick, 40th Imperial Guard Infantry, Mechanized, acting commander of Echo Company. You are surrounded. Surrender, and we will show you the Emperor’s mercy.”

“No. You are surrounded. You surrender and we won't wear your skin on our armor.” Came the reply.

The Angry Marines groaned. I remained unperturbed. “Look, no more blood need...”

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!” Came the response. Angry Marines were shaking their heads and becoming impatient. I was feeling a bit irritated.

“This is foolishness! You have no chance! This redoubt is the last point of resistance...”

“FFFUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!” The Enemy blew me a raspberry. The Angry Marines were laughing now. At me.

I felt my face flush “Surrender now and we promise you...”

“Worshipper of the corpse-emperor! We will wash you away from this planet in an unending tide of blood! Join us and you will know true glory in serving chaos!!!”

I froze in place. The world suddenly became very quiet and time froze. It was just me with my thoughts. After watching half of my company torn to shreds by the Enemy, they were asking me to ''join'' them? The screams of my brothers in arms, still fresh in my mind, came to the fore of my mind. Suddenly, something changed, igniting a deep rage within my self that surprised me. But I embraced it. The rage and anger gave me a strength I did not know I had. My voice boomed over the battlefield as if I were using a vox.

“Join ...you. Join...you. JOIN YOU???!!! Why in the FUCK WOULD I JOIN THE LOSING SIDE???!!! You traitor assholes turned your back on your legion, your species, YOUR EMPEROR to do what? TO BE ON THE LOSING SIDE??!!! You are on... what? The 11th, no, 12th , no, 13th Black Crusade? That’s an uninterrupted twelve time LOSING STREAK!!! You would think that you fucks could get it right one time in TEN THOUSAND YEARS!!!

The Angry Marines fell silent and looked upon me, with respect. I was encouraged.

“Power of Chaos? The only power I see is THE POWER TO FAIL!!! CHAOS MAKES YOU STUPID!!! FUCK'N A! WHO THE FUCK JOINS SOMEONE WITH A TRACK RECORD LIKE THAT???"

I was rolling now. The anger burned within me like a plasma drive at full power.

"'RUINOUS POWERS'??? THE ONLY RUIN I SEE IS YOU SHITTING YOUR PANTS!!! DUMBFUCKS!!! WHO IS THE ONE COWERING IN THE BOTTOM OF A FUCKING HOLE, BITCH???!!!”

The Angry Marines broke out into a hearty applause. There was no response from the Enemy. Just an embarrassed silence. They started shooting again, but it was just filler.

The Angry Marines were still clapping. I moved back from the rampart and the anger still burned within me. “Join them... chaos must make you stupid... fucking fucktards...”

The Angry Marine with the power wrench approached me. He removed his helmet and spoke, “HEY ASSHOLE! THINK YOU CAN FIGURE OUT WHICH END OF THIS TO USE???” He handed me his power wrench. It was beautiful. A meter long of polished adamantium, perfectly balanced and the head still dripping with the blood of the Enemy.

“FUCK YEAH!” I bellowed back.

“RIGHT!!! HERE'S THE PLAN, I THROW YOU INTO THE ENEMY AND YOU KILL THEM. THINK YOU CAN REMEMBER THAT??!!!”

I did not even get to respond before he picked me up and threw me boldly over the rampart directly at the Enemy position. Thank the Emperor, the Enemy was just as surprised as I was, and didn't shoot me out of the sky. I landed a half a meter short of the twin linked plasma gun the Enemy had placed in the redoubt. Without thinking, I hit the mount with the power wrench as hard as I could. Then I felt the shock up my arms and nearly dropped it. Two things then occurred to me: 1) that I should turn it on, and, 2) I was going to die. Lucky (or not so lucky as I found out later) for me, the gun-operator assumed the wrench was on and dived away from the emplacement. I lit up the power wrench, let out a warcry, and triumphantly hit the gun. There was a bright flash of light and that was all I remember.

I woke up later. Much later. I was in a hospital ward surrounded by arcane instruments of unknown purpose. The Angry Marine was there; the one that gave me his power wrench. He saw I was awake.

“WHAT KIND OF STUPID FUCKER USES A POWER WRENCH ON A PLASMA EMPLACEMENT???!!!"

He shook his head with incredulity.

"FUCKING CHAOS PUSSIES RUNNING AROUND, ON FIRE, SCREAMING, AND YOU SLEEPING THROUGH THE WHOLE THING!!!” He laughed. It was an angry laugh.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW WRENCH, FUCKTARD. JUST SO I CAN KEEP MY EYE ON YOU, THIS APOTHECARY IS GOING TO RAM SOME GENESEED THROUGH YOUR FUCKING SKULL.”

There was a hint of a smile in his eye as he walked out of the room.

“WELCOME TO THE ANGRY MARINES... ASSHOLE.”

== Assault Sergeant Dickface ==
* From the archives of Drywalker Fen
* File #61225A: Assault Sergeant Dickface
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Assault Marine Dickface was promoted to the rank of Sergeant during the Heresy of Drywalker Fen in 912.M41. His squad was to be deployed as an attack on the position of heretic leadership. Unfortunately the [[Thunderhawk]] that transported the squad was shot down by enemy fire and the brothers were scattered. During the attack Dickface had lost most of his equipment and had to make do with a weapon he found at the site of a bombed encampment; a two-handed [[chainsword]]. As he attempted to regroup with his squad, Dickface got his ass stuck in the fens of Drywalker. As he tried to pull himself free from the goop, Dickface had the idea of firing up his jump pack to full power. It eventually tore him free, but send him hurtling through the air. He noticed that by divine aid this was straight in the direction of his squad's target, and shouted "OPEN WIDE, MOTHERFUCKERS" before descending onto them like an angel of wrath.

Pict footage later determined that upon landing, through a combination of luck and skill, Dickface managed to shove his chainsword through the mouth of the heretic commander all the way down out of his pelvis, impaling him in a single motion. Dickface then proceeded to beat enemy command to death with the impaled body of their commander, after which he cut the weapon free through the corpse's back. Dickface then proceeded to repeat this on six infantry platoons, a score of heavy weapon teams and a trio of [[Sentinel]] walkers, killing their operators by pouncing on the cockpit and forcing the weapon through the vehicles' vision slits.

For his heroics and skill, Dickface was elevated to the position of Assault Sergeant and was granted one of the Chapter's "Angry [[Beakie]]" Mark VI Corvus suits of [[Power Armor]]. While his position as a Sergeant allowed him to wield the traditional Power Bats and Power Wrenches of the Angry Marines; he opted to keep the weapon he found, dubbing it "Throatfucker". While some Angry Marines believe him to be a "TAINTFONDLING SHOWOFF WHO THINKS HE'S TOO FUCKING HARDCORE FOR A POWER BAT". For this reason, Sergeant Dickface's skill with Throatfucker has been proven time and again.

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Thought for the day: do not wonder, as curiosity invites disaster.

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== Induction V2.0 ==

Original version of the story was a mess and can be found [[Talk:Angry_Marines#original_Induction|here]]

The dimly lit troop section of the drop pod was filled with noises that could pass for grunts under the sustained G of the drop pod's separation engine. Nine Space Marines endured the invisible hand of inertia with outward 'patience' and 'calm' born as much of familiarity as of training, genetic engineering, surgery and simmering RAGE. Nine squad'mates', and one other: even more calm, even if that was less attributable to experience.

The squad sergeant unsubtly looked his new charge over with a practiced and twitching eye, assessing everything from bearing to attentiveness. Battle-Brother Ten was of course under significant pressure from acceleration, made worse by the necessity for the Primaris Marine to slump deeply in his crash couch to accommodate his elongated torso. His legs, too, were splayed out awkwardly on either side of the sergeant's knees, a sight which filled the sergeant with no end of angry amusement.

"ARE YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKER TRYING TO HIT ON ME LIKE A SLANEESHY FAGGOT?!?" said the sergeant with what could pass as a grin among sharks and other species known for biting people's faces off. Shouts that could be laughter echoed around the drop pod as the G eased off, the squad adjusting their positions for re-entry.

"Your customs and sense of humour are strange to me, sergeant." replied the Primaris. "I cannot imagine that Primarch Guilliman would approve of your lack of focus ahead of such an important operation; nor of the..." he stopped suddenly, weighing whether his statement would be received as insubordinate. "... condition of your wargear."

Ten had, perhaps, a point. While his own Mark X power armour was gleaming, freshly painted in the livery of his new Chapter and hand-polished to a shine, the rest of the squad looked as if they'd been dragged feet-first through a chainswords foundry. Pieces of half a dozen different armour marks adorned the squad, and while the detritus of previous warzones had been hosed off as part of ship's quarantine, battle damage was still evident on all.

The sergeant in particular was a trainwreck. As Ten's eyes moved down from the sergeant's dented "beaky" helmet to the acid-scarred torso, to the axe-gouged thigh piece, he was perplexed to notice the sergeant's right hand resting with the thumb and forefinger joined to make a circle. As his head exploded with pain, swiftly dampened by his suit's autoapothecary, Ten felt anger rising at the stunning blow from the sergeant's other hand, its brutal strength belying the smaller marine's stature.

The rest of the squad squirmed in their acceleration harnesses to watch the show, while the hull started to whine against the increasingly dense atmosphere.

"LISTEN WELL TO THE RULES OF THE FUCKING GAME, YOU CUMGOBBLER AMATEUR!!" said the sergeant almost pleasantly, resuming his casual stance of barely contained anger and resting one foot on a large reinforced sack full of something that gave a metallic clink under the weight; like gold bars in a concrete mixer.

"My name is Primaris Augustus."

"YOUR NAME DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER!!!" retorted the sergeant, ejecting a round from his battered boltgun, "NOW LOOK AT THIS PIECE OF SHIT!!!" Ten glanced at it, noticing again that the sergeant had pinched it between thumb and forefinger to form a circle. Before Ten could react, the sergeant slammed him in the crotch with an armoured boot.

"IF YOU ARE NOT AS BIG A FAGGOT AS YOU ACT LIKE, YOU'LL GET A FUCKING NAME SOMEDAY!!!" barked the sergeant. "YOU ARE NOT ANGRY OR BLOODY MANLY ENOUGH TO BE ONE OF OURS!!!" indicating Ten's immaculately maintained bolt rifle and armor, "YOU ARE JUST A BIGGER PIECE OF SHIT THAN YOUR AVERAGE GIRLYMAN FANBOY!!!"

Ten's temper was rising now. "On Mars, such undisciplined rabble would be liquified and fed to the servitors. I'm surprised that even works" he snarled through gritted teeth and eyes watering from the second blow, pointing furiously at the sergeant's dishevelled weapon. "And the next chaplain I see will hear of your insult to the Primarch."

The sergeant was visibly shaking with rage now, fully visible even in over the shaking of the re-entry fireball that was the drop pod. "IF YOU DON'T SHUT YOUR FUCKING FAGGOTY COCKSUCKING MOUTH I'LL LET THAT ASSHOLE MOFO HAVE A FIELD DAY WITH YOU!!!" he shouted. "HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES HAVE YOU DROPPED ON SOME FUCKER'S HEAD, YOU AMATEUR?!?" he screamed, almost helmet to helmet.

"Two times including this one!" yelled Ten, no longer caring about maintaining discipline in the face of the open conflict that had been bubbling ever since his recent arrival with the reinforcement fleet.

"THEN SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FAGGOT!!!" retorted the sergeant. "I NEVER FUCKING BOTHERED REMEMBERING THE NUMBER OF CUNTS AND ASSHOLES I'VE KICKED AND PUNCHED SO I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU OR YOUR OPINIONS!!! SO GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR WAY WHILE WE KICK SOME MOTHERFUCKING ASS!!!" Cocking his chainsword as retro-thrusters slammed into life, the sergeant turned his attention to the exit ramps.

Ten had never felt such rage at being treated so dismissively. As the pod crashed into the planet and the ramps deployed he burst furiously into the light and started laying into the swarm of Tyranid lifeforms swarming around the pod with the butt of his rifle. Shards of carapace and gouts of foul ichor flew in a maelstrom around him as he unleashed his boiling frustration.

It was several moments before he noticed the Hierophant bio-titan standing over him and watching him curiously, like a child examining an ant. The lesser lifeforms stopped their assault and backed away as the great beast lowered its head towards him, before they were trampled by the maddened rush of his brutish squadmates. Transfixed, Ten barely registered the sergeant's voice on his suit comm as the great maw opened to sample a new morsel. What was that psychopath shouting at him?

"''ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!''"

White hot rage exploded in Ten's brain as he leapt into the Heirophant's jaws, past the rows of monomolecular-edged teeth and deep into the back of its throat. There he hacked brutally at the soft flesh until the swallow reflex clenched bloody blankets of meat around him, forcing him down into the boiling acid in its gut.

Sergeant Dickface and the rest of the squad whooped in joyous ire as they clambered up the legs of the great beast, carving footholds with chainaxes and driving their power wrenches deep into its joints. They hacked and mutilated tendons, flesh and carapace. And when the great beast finally collapsed to its knees they punched it further, revelling in the righteous rage they always felt.

As the bio-titan slumped its distended belly to the battlefield, a gout of blood and meat ejected from what could only be its anus, coating the still fighting hordes of Tyranids and Marines in pitched battle around it. Dickface surveyed the dripping orifice with anger and rage, and maybe... expectation? As Ten emerged from it headfirst, he tossed a loose Carnifex talon at the Primaris' head before running up to the beast's ruined 'face'.

Still raging, his armour half-dissolved by pungent fluids, Ten hacked into the sphincter until it released him and he fell to the earth trailing gibbets of innards. Landing hard he rolled and, noticing a yellow-armoured perimeter around the Titan's head, ran up the length of the Heirophant's destroyed body dragging the talon and opening the torso like a zipper.

Sergeant Dickface was screaming obscenities and battering the Heirophant's head into a bloody mess with its own oversized (but rapidly getting smaller and smaller as it splintered) spine. Ten joined him with boot and fist until the last shudder had faded and the enormous biomachine was finally still.

They regarded each other with blood-shot eyes, helmets discarded onto the filth around them, both bearing a closer resemblance to a half-cooked stew than Space Marines of the Imperium of Man.

"WHERE'S YOUR FUCKING PEASHOOTER YOU FAGGOT?!?" Dickface yelled.

"THE BLOODY PIECE OF SHIT GOT IN MY WAY SO I THREW IT AT THE CUNT'S FACE!!" replied the Primaris. "WAIT... WHAT IS THAT SHIT?!?" He bent down and reached into an unidentifiable mass of bloody muscle. Dickface watched as the marine's arm went in up to the elbow, freshly coating it in slick blood. When it emerged there was no bolt rifle, but a circle made of forefinger and thumb.

The Primaris slammed his forehead into Dickface's face, sending the sergeant flying backwards and sprawling on the ground. Dickface lay there shaking with raging, flipping him the bird and screaming obscenities.

"WELCOME TO THE FUCKING ANGRY MARINES, SHITHEAD!!!"

+++++++ 

Thought for the day: The burden of failure is the most terrible punishment of all.

+++++++ 

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==Master of the Armoury, Enginseer Mightilypissedoff the third==

The latest addition to the Angry Marines command structure/brawl which makes decisions based on who’s left standing, Mightilypissedoff the third represents a step forward for the chapter as he is actually TRAINED for his job, as opposed to everyone else who simply out survived or out punched their competitors. Starting life as a boy by the name of Yarrick Smith the third from a family of comfortable standing in one of the many hive cities on Armageddon. Yarrick’s families standing (Yarrick being an incredibly popular name on Armageddon being “da greatest humie eva!”) and Armageddon’s large levels of industry and mechanisation gave Yarrick the resources to pursue his hobby of engineering, with his father commissioning a shed to be built for him, which he filled to the brim with broken machines (broken servitors, vacuum cleaners, one of Vance Motherfucking Stubbs lost Baneblades, just general stuff). Yarrick even showed so much promise that he was head hunted by the Adeptus Mechanicus who started teaching him about the ways of the omnisiah (with the aim of eventually initiating him into the mechanicus), teachings which Yarrick excelled at to the point that he would be commissioned to repair complicated machinery.

This happy existence continued for several years, right up until he reached the ripe old age of 11, when his hive was given a visit, by the Angry Marines who had gotten bored and had decided that they wanted a vacation killing orks (something which Armageddon has absolutely no shortage of). While other chapters might coordinate their arrival with the local planetary governor (or in thus case, commissar Yarrick) and bring their Marines down to the planet in an organised manner, the Angry Marines are far too impatient for such nonsense and just fired themselves down in drop pods and rhinos randomly towards the planet. One such Angry Rhino was fated however, to impact with the workshop/shed of Yarrick Smith while Yarrick was inside said shed. The resulting explosion blew Yarrick free of the wreckage and left him only with minor burns, but managed to destroy his family home (along with his family) and (more importantly) his workshop filled with his tools of the omnisiah.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!” Someone shouted from the wreckage “I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO AIM FOR THE FUCKING JUNGLE YOU PRICK, HOW CAN YOU MISS A CUNTING CONTINENT SIZED JUNGLE?!!!” This was followed by the sound of someone being hit over the head by a very large wrench (Yarrick was very good at recognising these things). “NEXT TIME YOU CAN FUCKING DRIVE YOU OMNISIAH CUNT, YOU TRY AIMING ONE OF THESE THINGS!!!” Shouted another, which was followed by a deep growl which Yarrick recognised as the whisperings of a machine spirit, the angriest he’d ever heard. After a few more moments the roar of an engine started and a red and yellow rhino slowly dragged itself from the wreckage, mounted by two Angry Marines fighting each other. Thankfully for histories sake, the driver of the rhino stopped his vehicle before it turned the shocked Yarrick into paste, a stop which dislodged the two fighting Marines off the tank to land at his feet, upon which they stopped fighting, stood up and glared at Yarrick as if this was all his fault. “OI KID!!!” Bellowed the one with the huge wrench “WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING LOOKING AT? HAVE YOU NEVER SEEK A FUCKING ANGRY MARINE BEFORE?!!!” This broke Yarrick out of his trance, what was the marine doing shouting at him? This man had just destroyed his shed, destroyed his life’s work, his gifts from the omnisiah, and he had the balls to swear and curse at HIM. All of a sudden, Yarrick was filled with a righteous fury and before he knew it he was pelting the marine with scattered wrenches and chunks of metal while screaming a stream of profanity which just melted into one long cry of “FFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!”

After the two marines finally managed to pin Yarrick to the ground (after he had managed to dismantle a large chunk of their power armour) with some help from the ten other marines inside the rhino, it’s driver and the rhino itself, the first marine (which Yarrick later learned to be an Angry Tech Priest) asked “WHAT’S YOUR NAME YOU FUCKING ANKLE BITER?!!! DAMN I THINK HE BROKE MY FUCKING ARM!!!” After a bit more swearing Yarrick responded “Yarrick Smith the third YOU FUCKING CUNT LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY FUCKING SHED YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!” “NOT ANOTHER FUCKING YARRICK!!!” Bellowed the tech priest “YOU LOOK MORE MIGHTILYPISSEDOFF TO ME!!!” Which drew a round of laughter (if somewhat pained due to the assorted collection of broken bones). “YOU ARE NOW MIGHTILY PISSED OFF THE THIRD YOU PRICK, AND YOUR FUCKING COMING WITH US!!!”

And thus, Yarrick Smith became Mightilypissedoff the third, and after being dragged kicking and screaming off Armageddon passed through all the Angry Marines rites and became an Angry Tech priest, powering himself along with his eternal loathing for his kidnappers/adopted family. Life after that was fairly quiet for pissed off for the next millennia or so, spending most of his time taming the Angry Marines more violent vehicles (something which he had an innate talent for) and fighting in the few hundred conflicts the chapter finds itself in at any given time. His chance to seek revenge against the Angry Marines, when the Master of the Armoury Enfurious Ragman announced that “WE’LL BE HAVING A FUCKING “CULTURAL EXCHANGE” WITH THE FUCKING TOASTER SHAGGERS, AND I NEED ONE OF YOU PRICKS TO GO TO FUCKING MARS!!!” Luckily and entirely coincidentally, all the other Angry Tech Priests were simultaneously hospitalised due to “BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE BALLS WITH A FUCKING WRENCH!!!” And thus, Mightilypissedoff was the only person available to go to Mars.

Upon arriving on Mars, Mightilypissedoff was treated like a lost son who had finally returned to the fold, and for another happy millennia or so he was taught everything he did not yet now about the ways of the omnisiah, slowly (fast by mechanicium standards as his competitors would be found dead due to “BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE BALLS!!!” making his way up through the ranks until finally becoming the head of a titan manufactorum and earning the title of enginseer. It was however, realised by the council of mars that pissedoff was too Angry a person to truest become one of their own, despite his immense skill, a flaw which they blamed on the Angry Marines, a crime which they added to the chapters very long list of offences. But the mechanicium could not just simply get rid of pissedoff, it was not his fault he was corrupted and he was still equally talented if not more so than mar’s greatest priests.

The chance for revenge came with the new of the death of the Angry Marines Master of the Armoury, creating an opening in their command structure. This was a golden opportunity for the mechanicium, an opportunity which Mightilypissedoff the third was perfectly placed to exploit, being both an Angry Marine and a child of the omnisiah, and so he was brought before the council of mars who explained their plans to him, to which pissed off replied “WHERE DO I FUCKING SIGN?!!!”

So after a millennia or so away, Mightilypissedoff the third returned to the Angry Marines with a single task, either bring the chapter to heel, or destroy them, but how could they be sure that Mightilypissedoff would get the job? Because he's angrier than even the rank and file Angry Marine (let alone an Angry Tech Priest), a being who utterly despises the Angry Marines for what they have done so much, that the Angry Marines would take one look at him now and say "CALM YOUR BALLS YOU WALKING TOASTER, YOU CAN HAVE THE FUCKING JOB!!! IT'S NOT AS IF ANY OF US CUNT WEASELS WANTED IT ANYWAY!!!" And just like that, Mightilypissedoff was the Master of the Armoury. But as pissedoff took up his new role he started to wonder whether he had been truly happy/ANGRY on mars, there you had to pray for 20 minutes just to open a vent on an air con unit, and had he really hated and despised the Angry Marines to the point that he wanted to destroy them, he’d had more freedom and fights with the Angry Marines than he could have had over the course of hundreds of millennia with the mechanicium.

And so, instead of destroying the Angry Marines, Master of the Armoury Mightilypissedoff the third embraces/head locked them, and has been happy/ANGRY EVER SINCE. He now spends most of his time on the battlefield "FUCKING SMASHING ANY CUNT WHO OFFENDS THE OMNISIAH!!! THAT COCKSUCKING LEMAN RUSS JUST LOOKED AT ME FUNNY, YOUR NEXT DIPSHIT, FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!", so much time in fact that the Angry Tech priests are wondering if they should promote one of their own to the rank of Master of the Armoury (those who suggest that die mysteriously from BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE BALLS VIA A HUGE FUCKOFF WRENCH SMASHING THEM OVER AND OVER AGAIN!!!) Mars is somewhat surprised by the turn of events, and are so exasperated that the Angry Marines heretical actions are to be officially ignored until they do something really stupid, like filling a titan full of honey badgers and blowing it up for shits and giggles.

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==The relics of the Angry Marines==

'''the looted, looted, looted, Pretty Marines "WARGH MOTHERFUCKER!!!" Banner.'''

A banner which was once owned by the pretty marines, at the time called the "Notice Me Senpai" banner, it provided space warping properties of the same manner used by deamonettes to hide their crab claws, granting all pretty marines around it incredible beauty and two-inch-thick plot armour, as it effectively made all pretty marines within its range main characters in an anime, so how could they die. Unfortunately (for the pretty marines at least) the orks don't give a shit about anyone else's plot armour apart from their own (and yarricks, da greatist an orkiest humie eva!) and proceeded to brutalise the pretty marines with their long, hard shafts/choppas, and took the banner for themselves.

The banner was used for quite some time by ork commandos, who used its powers to make them look absolutely fabulous (or at least good looking enough to a guardsman who hasn't had sexual contact with another human for months) and thereby sneak up on enemy positions. Those they snuck up on could still see the orks, but would be too busy having awkward boners etc to notice, boners which they would die with as the commandos chopped them to pieces. Over time however, the banner began to lose its strength, being replaced more and more by wargh energies, and although it still provided a healthy glow to the orks (5/10 while drunk), it was no longer enough to hypnotise the enemy, resulting in the commandos being curpstomped by a squad of storm troopers, and the banner was then taken by the inquisition.

Thankfully, the inquisitor in possession of the banner was well travelled and cunning enough to know that xenos tech should not be dismissed out of hand (do the, how do you say it? Funky monkey) and so started experimenting on the banner, to find out how it could be both orky and pretty at the same time. However, the inquisitor made a grave mistake of being within one hundred light years of the Angry Marines during the two years of the completion of the Codex Angry Marines, and thus became one of the many inquisitors who "WAS BEATEN OVER THE FUCKING HEAD BY THE LITERAL FUCKING BOOK!!!" And thus, finally, the banner fell into the hands of the Angry Marines, who used it (during their two year "book tour") for their own amusement, as anyone within its range would start talking orky (DIS FUKIN BANNER IZ DA FLASHIEZT!!! WE SHODA KRUMPED DAT INQUISTOR GIT FOR IT BLOODY AGES AGO LADZ!!!).

Over time however, like every other piece of influence before it, the orky powers around the banner started to diminish, to be replaced by "RAGE MOTHERFUCKER!!!" to the point that the Angry Marines started carrying their "FUCKIN FLASHY BANNER!!!" into battle, to great effect, as it carried Pretty, Wargh and Angry energies within it, making everyone around it "DA ANGRIEST, DA ORKIEST AND DA PRETTIEST SONS O FUCKIN BITCHES IN DA FUCKIN GALAXY!!!! WARGH MOTHER FUCKERS!!!"

'''The Codex Angry Marines'''

While most codices were written or printed by hand or machine, the codex angry marines, was forged (although it wouldn't be surprising if the codices of the iron hands or the salamanders are forged as well). Made from a slap of steel adamantium alloy which had been pissed on for seven days and seven nights and the pages and spine were carved from the block by a team of Angry Marine Mindfuckers, using nothing but profanity, and the occasional bolter round. The crude simulacrum of a book was then brought before the Angry Marine chapter master, Temperus Maximus, for he had been ordered by the inquisition, the adeptus ministorium and terra, the high lords and, worst of all, the ultramarines, to make the Angry Marines codex compliant.

Maximus admired the slab of metal before him, it would be would be a fitting vessel for his rules to his battle brothers, and a giant middle finger to everyone else, as they never said whose codex the Angry Marines had to abide by. Flicking/snapping open the book with a quick curse which could still be heard in the cargo bays the chapter master glared at the metal page, melting words into it through sheer, undiluted contempt, drops of alloy dripping from the book to sizzle on the floor. Finally, his work done, Maximus leashed in his rage and closed the book, pausing only to read the rapidly cooling words, which said;

"JUST HIT THE FUCKERS!!!"

Opening the doors to his chambers carrying the book, Maximus found a riot (one of the technical terms for a gathering of Angry Marines, another being an arse kicking) of silent Angry Marines outside. "SO WHAT DOES IT SAY?!!!" Shouted one with unaccustomed politeness and reverence, while the others waited for the chapter masters response. There was the pause as Maximus considered, only to get angry with himself for needing to pause, he raised the book high above his head, and brought it crashing down on the questioning marines armoured brow, sending him crashing through five floors to land in a wrathful heap. Then, fixing those amassed before him with a steely gaze which left a few temporarily blind, Temperus Maximus gave his response, in a bellow which could be heard back on terra, "YOU CUNTS SHOULD ALREADY KNOW WHATS WRITTEN IN THE FUCKING BOOK YOU COCKSUCKING, WEABOO, DEAMON FONDLING FAGGOTS!!!". The assembled marines didn't hesitate in their response, even the marine who had been smashed through the floor

"ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME!!! ALWAYS ANGRY ALL THE MOTHER FUCKING TIME!!! SUCK ON IT YOU ULTRAMARINE BASTARDS!!! FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!"

The resulting fight lasted several years and resulted in a death toll in the billions, but the Angry Marines didn't care, and they carried the codex Angry Marines with them every cockshot of the way, as a reminder that they didn't need some ultrasmurf faggot to tell them who they are and what to do, but mostly to "BEAT SOME FUCKING INQUISITORS WITH THE LITERAL FUCKING BOOK!!!" It has gotten to the point that the book itself hurls insults at the enemy, and the odd bolter shell, and maybe the odd lightning bolt, but that sort of thing stops once you apply a fresh purity seal.

There is a worry however that, as the book contains at least twenty blank pages, that the book may write in itself, an idea which has everyone, except the Angry Marines, absolutely shitting their collective pants. What might a book given semi sentience by an entire chapter’s rage write in itself? The main theory is that the book will write some brand-new curses (and by that, curses unknown to the Angry Marines, the galactic guardians of the offensive word), curses which will probably be specifically insulting to ultramarines, or perhaps the 40k universes equivalent of the word Belgium. Either way, any new words must remain unknown to the universe at large to prevent galactic level recreations of the "Raiders of the lost ark" final scene, thankfully though, the book is protected/owned by the FUCKING ANGRY MARINES, meaning that a force the size of every black crusade combined would be needed to rest it from their adamantium grip.

'''The Head of Ward'''

A relic from before the unification wars, the shrunken head of the fifth (sixth) chaos god. The head sits impaled on a wooden stick and has a large cock and balls drawn on its forehead in permanent marker, from the remains of the heads neck droops a thick clump of fur, described by ancient texted as the "Crown of the neckbeards", which is said to have been awarded to the fifth/sixth chaos god for fucking over an ancient table top game. The head has been in the possession of a number of different parties such as (but not limited to) the ultramarines (who built a shrine to it and masturbated to it), nurgle (as even he found it vile to gaze upon), the eldar (who used its space and time warping aura to be complete dicks) and the pretty marines (who put makeup on it). The last owner was slaanesh (who used it as a fleshlight) until it was swept up by the currents of the warp into the battle barge litany of litany’s litany, where the Angry Marines attempted to destroy it, only to find it indestructible.

Ever since that day the Angry Marines have been trying to get rid of the disgusting head, but even something as terrifying as Matt Wards head, still has its uses, mostly by warping space and time around those chapters and species he had once fucked over.

Disconcerting, the head also whispers heretical ideas in the dark of night, despite how much constructive criticism/rage the Angry Marines throw at it, things like "the Ultramarines are the only true space marines" and "why don't you guys team up with the necrons" or, worst of all "the baby carriers weren't a bad idea, it's not me who designed the fucking things". The whispers can be heard in a hundred-mile radius (even in the vacuum of space) and resulted in many sleepless nights (WHO FUCKING NEEDS SLEEP!!!) for the nearby Angry Marines until someone came up with the bright idea of keeping the head next to the Codex Angry marines, an arrangement which results in the head crying softly, and while this crying can still be heard a hundred miles around, the moans of one of the imperiums greatest foes is a lullaby to everyone's ears.

'''The combi-combi flamer'''

Before he died, Master of the Armory Enfurus Ragman (MAY HE KICK BALLS AND SCREAM FOR FUCKING ETERNITY!!!) had been working on improving the standard combi flamer, a weapon much admired/used excessively while screaming at the enemy, due to the large amounts of Dakka it could produce. Ragman desired to increased said amounts of Dakka (and maybe while he was at it add some blades or big steel rods to make it choppy as well), but was struggling to do so (like many who had come before him before they were killed by the mechanicus for crimes against the omnisiah).

It was on a normal, rage filled night, Ragman was in the armoury holding a combi flamer and a roll of duct tape. He looked at the flamer, and then to the duct tape, then to the flamer, then back again, and that, is when genius struck. He took the flamer, and wrapped it in several rolls of duct tape and fired it at the nearest object (a servitor as it happens). The gun (although it was now definitely a better gun because it was covered in duct tape) was no more dakkery than before (even if it had annihilated the servitor), and so Ragman went on a "MOTHERFUCKING, AND TOTALLY JUSTIFIED RAMAGE!!!" Through the armoury. Later he realised he folly, and this time duct taped two combi flamers together, and thus, the Combi-Combi Flamer was born.

Unfortunately, Ragman died before achieving the ultimate goal of making the flamer also choppy (duct taping a chainsword to it) or before he could make more combi-combi flamers, otherwise the Angry Marines would have eradicated all heresy a long time ago.

'''The Doom Guy gun'''

A "gift" (left behind) weapon given to the Angry Marines by the honorary Angry Marine, Doom Guy, when he appeared on the battle barge maximum fuck while it was passing through the warp. The gun (after being analysed by angry tech priests) was found to have the highest density of Dakka per kilogram, but it only worked when the wielder was moving at top speed, and it fired even faster when firing at daemons.

The Doom Guy gun was once brought to battle against the orks, who, upon seeing the gun and recognising its power, immediately surrendered to the Angry Marines (producing a level of confusion in the Angry Marines which created such a strong backlash of confusion in the warp that it prevented tzeench from pulling off a "Just as planned" large enough from destroying terra). When asked afterwards why they had surrender, the ork war boss replied "So much Dakka. What can one do against such flashy bitz." [[Blood Ravens|Of course, the Angry Marines now have to keep it locked up to protect it from certain Red and Black Kleptomaniacs...]]

'''The Storm Shield Surfboard'''

The anger child between a squad of Angry Terminators and an Angry Tech Priest, while the Angry Marines were fighting deamons of Slannesh on an ice world. At the best of times terminators are slow and purposeful, put them on a planet which is covered in a metre and a half of snow, and they might as well make them stationary. Angry Terminators are not calm beings at the best of times, but dump them in a snow drift and have deamonettes dance around and taunt them, then you get to exploding levels of RAGE (many battle brothers were lost to such deviant tactics, MAY THEY KICK BALLS AND RAGE FOR FUCKING ETERNITY"). Such rage would also have a dramatic effect on the terminator armour, as marines would claw their way out in the nude to "FUCKING FIST THOSE DEAMONETTE SLUTS!!! HOW DO YOU LIKE BEING FUCKED BY A CHAINSWORD!!!" (Ow do it harder your making me so god damn horny BLAM). Terminator armour is rare at the best of times, even more so in a chapter which uses them to walk into lascannon fire for "SHITS AND GIGGLES MOTHERFUCKER!!!", and such damage makes the Angry Tech Priests so angry that they can be used to melt glaciers.

[[File:Storm Shield Surfboard.png|thumb|right|'' Call us today and you can get the first three seasons of Scooby Doo included free of charge! '']]

So an "alliance" was formed based on the desire to a. Get to the enemy faster and b. To not ruin terminator armour while doing so, between a five man terminator squad, and the tech priest Jordy Motherfucker, who was originally from the water covered agri world of Spectoris. After much arguing and fighting (the equivilent of a polite hello followed by tea and biscuits for the Angry Marines) Jordy suggested the use of one of the terminators storm shields as a sled to slide over the ice slopes, in imitation of a water based pastime from his home world. "But how do we make it travel uphill or over long distances?" Pondered Motherfucker out loud (being an Angry Techpriest, Jordy only spoke in lower case most of the time). "PUT SOME FUCKING ROCKETS OR MELTAS ON THE FUCKING BACK YOU IDIOT!!! YOUR SUPPOSED TO BE THE FUCKING CLEVER ONE AROUND HERE!!!" Replied one of the Angry Terminators, who proceeded to take his storm shield and hammer some rockets onto the back of his power hammer. Then, taking a run up, said terminator jumped onto his storm shield and powered up the rockets.

When they found the terminator ten miles away (by following the trail of decapiated, mutilated and fisted deamonettes) at the bottom up an icy hole all he would say was "I'M FUCKING DOING THAT AGAIN!!!" as he kept trying to remount his now drained storm shield. Since then, the Storm Shield Surfboard has been fitted with improved fuel tanks, more reliable/non-exploding rockets, an Angry levitation system (borrowed) from the Angry Repulsor tank, a front edge force field for added decapitation, cup holders and a tv which plays constant runs of an old earth show called "Scooby Doo", a show which is believed to be the very same "FUCKING QUALITY CARTOONS!!!" That Reclusiarch Mofo has been watching for all this time. Nobody has yet been able to create more Storm Shield Surfboards, as the board is more owned by a single marine who refuses to let anyone else use/play with it, meaning that for someone else to use it, say a tech priest, he will either have to wait for the current "owner" to die, become incapacitated in some way, or have the board confiscated by a mob of Angry Tech Priests or a high ranking chapter member.

'''Roll of Emergency Purity Seals'''

One of the roles of a chief Reclusiarch is to ensure that the chapter remains full of nice, good, emperor bothering space marines, and not spikey, tentacle creatures wearing power armour. Chief Reclusiarch Mofo doesn't really give a shit as "ANY PUSSY WHO WOULD JOIN CHAOS IS A WORLD EATER WANNABE!!! NOT A FUCKING ANGRY MARINE!!! NOW PISS OFF IM WATCHING SOME FUCKING QUALITY CARTOONS!!!"

However, despite the fact that Angry Marines are as likely to fall to chaos as a grot is likely to defeat a dreadnaught, the Chief Reclusiarch services are still required, mostly in the blessing of random shit the marines have found to make sure that the inquisitors don't get any exterminartus based ideas. Even this minor task is too much for Mofo's non-existent patience, so he took a roll of standard, two ply imperial toilet paper, screamed at it "YOU ARE BLESSED YOU INANEMATE PIECE OF SHIT!!!" And drew a small angry face on the first sheet.

This roll of emergency purity seals/blessed bog roll was then slammed into the face of the first Angry Marine demanding his bolter or power wrench to be blessed and followed by a bellow which was felt by a nearby battle barge "BLESS IT YOURSELF YOU CUNT WEASEL!!!" Despite the rolls unassuming appearance, it does provide significant protection to anything a sheet is slapped onto, in fact, each sheet shouts "YOU HAVE BEEN BLESSED, NOW STOP FUCKING MOANING!!!" After being used, but what's most remarkable is that the roll hasn't run out, being destroyed after many millennia of use and still has the same angry face on the first sheet.

In the direst of situations it can even be used to wipe your arse, and marines who have done so say that "MY SHIT HOLE HAS NEVER FELT SO CLEAN!!! IT WAS LIKE WIPING MY ARSE WITH A FIELD FULL OF BUNNIES!!!" Mofo refuses to create more rolls for chapter wide, even imperium wide, use, arguing that (after he had shoved fagbasher up the arse of the inquisitor stupid enough to ask) "ANY CUNT WHO NEEDS EXTRA PROTECTION FROM CHAOS IS A FUCKING TYRANID LOVING WHORE!!! NOW PISS OFF, IM STILL FUCKING WATCHING SOME QUALITY CARTOONS!!!"

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==A Literal Shit Storm==
Note, this story is a work in progress and thus the title and story elements will change over time, you have been warned. I have moved this from the discussions page so that a. I can work on this story from my phone, not just my computer and b. to free up space in the discussions page for other stories people might want to post and discuss.

{{MattWard}}

Chapter 1

It was not originally realised what the greatest impact the Fiery Aggressors would have on the Angry Marines would be, if you’d asked the average Angry Marine (assuming he didn’t pick a fight with you, correction, after he had picked a fight with you) he would have said “THEY’D FUCKING SET STUFF ON FIRE!!! WHAT KIND OF RETARDED QUESTION WAS THAT?!!!” And this is actually correct, their greatest impact on the chapter was to set stuff on fire, more specifically, setting stuff on fire using flamethrowers utilising promethium with ground up copies of the Codex Astartes mixed in, this didn’t make the flamethrowers any more burny, but it did make them far more awesome.

The only downside to this was that the Fiery Aggressors would get through a lot of copies of the codex Astartes, and as much as the Angry Marines despise the “FAGGOTY, GIRLYMAN FAP FICTION!!!”, it is still used by the chapter as toilet paper, resulting in a conflict of supply and demand on a galactic scale, as the Angry Marines attempted to gather more copies of the Codex Astartes to wipe their increasingly filthy arseholes, only for the Fiery Aggressors to steal those copies and more. Things became so desperate that the Angry Marine’s Chapter Master, Temperus Maximus, recalled all the Angry Marines command structure to one place to discuss/argue the crisis which was threatening the very existence (or at least hygiene) of the chapter, as the chapters astropaths could sense the attention of Nurgle being directed towards them.

“FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKK!!!” shouted the Chapter Master to bring the assembled marines before him to silence (or at least they were only swearing under their breath out of habit). He had chosen to hold the meeting in his private quarters aboard the battle barge Maximum Fuck, and around the large, circular table covered with pizzas and skittles he had had constructed for this very purpose sat the galaxies angriest beings. Directly opposite him sat Commissar Fuklaw who was glaring at a single point on the table which had started to smoke and give off squeals of “please, I have a family, be merciful”, while around him sat and huddled a contingent of other commissars, their trigger fingers twitching in anticipation of the first sign of HERESEY!!! A few seats down sat the Chief Mindfucker, Moarfistin, who was looking even more pissed than usual having been called back from his crusade into Tau space, flanked on either side by his two seconds in command, Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt who were currently staring down Captain Satchel, who as usual paid them no heed, he’d faced far worse than those cunts. Noticeably absent from the meeting were the Master of the Armoury, Enginseer Mightilypissedoff the third (who being mostly mechanical required no need to shit, except on special occasions, say to take a massive dump on an ultramarine) and Chief Reclusiarch Mofo (who was still locked in his quarters watching cartoons, and had access to the roll of emergency purity seals, and as such had no shortage of toilet paper).

“NOW THAT YOU’VE STOPPED FUCKING ABOUT WE CAN GET TO THE CUNTING PROBLEM!!!” started the Chapter Master, “THANKS TO THE FLAME THROWER CUNTS WE’RE ALMOST OUT OF BOG ROLL TO SCRUB OUR ARSEHOLES FUCKING CLEAN!!! NURGLINGS HAVE BEEN SPOTTED FOLLOWING THE MORE SHIT SMEARED MARINES, WE NEED FUCKING BOG ROLL AND FUCKING FAST!!!” At the mention of Nurglings, Moarfistin let off several psychic bolts of pure fury which melted part of a nearby wall to slag. “HERESEY!!!” bellowed the group of commissars who had levelled their bolt pistols at the Chief Mindfucker out of sheer muscle memory. After a quick break to disarm the commissars and repair the wall the meeting continued with an Angry Veteran asking “LET’S JUST FUCKING USE MOFO’S PURITY SEALS!!! THAT SHITS SOFTER THAN UNICORN FUR THREADED WITH THE FINEST FUCKING SILK, AND IT NEVER FUCKING RUNS OUT!!!” There was a chorus of swearing in agreement at this until it was pointed out by ones of the Apothecaries present that “YOU CAN FUCKING TRY!!! BUT I’M NOT GOING TO BE THE ONE TO REMOVE FAGBASHER FROM YOUR BOI CUNT WHEN MOFO FUCKING CATACHES YOU!!!” There was a moment of silence as everyone present remembered what had happened to the last Marine who had been desperate enough to try and steal and use the roll of emergency purity seals from Mofo, it was the first time a lot of the marine’s present had ever heard a fellow Angry Marine beg for mercy.

“WE COULD JUST USE NORMAL FUCKING BOG ROLL!!!” chipped in a lieutenant to break the silence, who was then immediately beaten to the ground by the marines surrounding him and dragged, kicking and swearing, from the room. “NOW THAT WE’VE GOT THE STUPID FUCKING QUESTIONS OUT OF THE WAY!!!” shouted the Chapter Master “DO ANY OF YOU CUNTS ACTUALLY HAVE A FUCKING GOOD IDEA?!!!” “LETS FUCKING INVADE MACRAG, THE ULTRACUNTS HAVE GOT PLENTY OF BOG ROLL!!!” shouted someone from the back, which got a cheer/war cry from all the Marines assembled who then charged to the door to prepare for a crusade against the ultramarines, not that they really needed an excuse to do so.

“GET THE FUCK BACK HERE YOU PUSSIES I DIDN’T GIVE YOUR SORRY CUNTS PERMISSION TO LEAVE!!!” screamed Maximus at the now motionless pile of marines stuck in the doorway. “AS FUCKING NICE AS IT WOULD BE TO TAKE A HOLIDAY TO THE ULTRA CUNTS!!!” continued Maximus, reaching under the table and grabbing something “WE’D END UP WITH THE INQUISITION SO FAR UP OUR FILTHY ARSEHOLES THAT WE’D BE ABLE TO HEAR THEM SHOUT HERESEY OUT OF OUR MOUTHES!!!” And at that he pulled the inquisitor that had been hiding underneath the table with a microphone out and gave the man such a withering stare that his hair began to grey and char at the ends before everyone’s eyes.

“AS INVADING OTHER CHAPTERS IS OUT OF THE FUCKING QUESTION!!!” shouted Fuklaw as the inquisitor was “politely” shown the way out of the room to the nearest airlock “WHAT FUCKING IDEAS DO YOU BASTARDS HAVE?!!!” The room erupted with swearing and fighting at this, as every single marine present tried to get his idea heard, throwing chairs, pizzas and other marines at each other. At some point Fuklaw lost his patience and began unleashing his withering gaze upon the room, which started to catch fire and melt, drops of metal landing on the fighting marines to eat away at power armour and just generally making them even more pissed off. At some point Maximus and the other heads of command finally lost their patience as well and joined in with the fighting, which actually helped, as at least half of the fighting marines were immediately knocked out as they e.g. Received a face full of Dick Haggard’s fists, or got catapulted into the ceiling after taking a swing from the back of Dylad.

“I think I have an idea,” said a strong, yet quiet voice. Immediately, the fight stopped as a wave of unease spread across all those assembled, their minds suddenly becoming calmer, as if someone had put a large pillow over each man present. In unison, the fight (the official collective noun for a group of Angry Marines) turned their heads towards the door to the Chapter Masters chambers, where there now stood a marine clad in the same armour as everyone else, except for an ancient rope adorned with the colours of the desert fangs, a Silencer Ancient. For a moment, no one spoke, the Angry Marines normal desire to swear and curse abated by the presence of such a large, and ancient psychic void. Even Fuklaw and Moarfistin’s rage abated somewhat as their otherwise uncalmable minds were also embraced by the cold void emanating from the incomprehensibly ancient figure before them. As one, the fight got itself up from the floor and stood (as much as an Angry Marine is capable of) respectfully towards the silencer, each marine holding his breath in anticipation.

Sighing a sigh which somehow managed to communicate what it was like putting up with Angry Marines, the Silencer continued. “We could ask the head of Ward; such an ancient and vile creature must know of where we can acquire enough copied of the codex Astartes. He did after all, influence its creation.” A ripple passed through the crowd at the suggestion. They all hated and feared the head of Ward, even the Silencers, who were normally untouched by the warp, could feel its vileness and plot defying aura. Dropping the three unconscious marines he had forgotten he had been head locking, maximus walked to the Silencer in the doorway, his head bowed in reverence and uncertainty, he never knew how to treat the Silencers, they were simultaneously his superiors, his subordinates, and his equals, he would have punched the man in the face just to break the ice, but his mind was still calm and incapable of its usual divisive fury.

The Silencer rolled his eyes behind his helmet, as he reached deep into his mind for his rage, a rage built up over millennia of fighting demons and babysitting the red and yellow fucks, and threw it at the chapter master in the only form of communication the Angry Marines seemed to understand. “STOP GROVELLING LIKE A FUCKING GROT!!! GET YOUR FIST OUT OF YOUR SHIT HOLE AND MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND YOU OVERSIZED MUSHROOM!!!” Instantly, all the eyes in the room were once again lit with fury again as they all straightened themselves up despite numerous broken bones and bruises and shouted their reply.

“ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!! FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!” And with a smile on his face honed over many centuries of bloodshed and swearing, the chapter master glared deep into the silencers eyes. “SO BE IT!!!” he shouted to those assembled, “INFORM THE TECH PRIESTS!!! TELL THEM TO PREPARE THE MAIN HANGAR, WE SHALL SPEAK TO THE FUCKING HEAD OF WARD!!!”

A few hours later and the battle barge maximum fucks main hangar had been cleared of ships to make a large space in which the chapter master, Reclusiarch Mofo (even he could not refuse being present for such an event), Moarfistin and Fuklaw now stood in a semi-circle. All other marines had been banished from attending this event, not that they would want to attend it, as even greater demons and machines do not suffer its presence willingly. “BRING IT IN!!!” shouted Mofo, who just wanted to go back to watching cartoons. The blast door at the far end of the cavernous room opened and three dreadnoughts strode through, the central one holding something draped with a thick, black cloth, while another carried a large chunk of metal, which seemed to weigh down the dreadnought far more than its size would suggest. Behind them followed a looming, mechanical figure covered in servo arms and measuring devices, two red eyes shining from its yellow and red robes, Master of the Armoury, Enginseer Mightilypissedoff the third. The event would have been awe and fear inspiring, if it hadn’t taken the mechanical procession two minutes to reach the centre of the chamber, with the master of the armoury scuttling along to try and keep up with the lumbering dreadnoughts, but finally, they reached the centre of the room, and set down the object wrapped in cloth.

“THIS HAD BETTER BE FUCKING WORTH IT!!!” complained Pissedoff, “WE LOST THREE TOASTER FUCKERS JUST GETTING THIS THING OUT OF THE FUCKING VAULT!!!” “YOU’LL FUCKING GET OVER IT!!!” countered Maximus as he stepped forward and tugged the black cloth away to reveal the dreaded Head of Ward. Immediately, the head began to whisper heretical thoughts, starting with “tseb eht era sthginkyerg” but almost as immediately the dreadnought carrying the slab of metal (which was the Codex Angry Marines) began the smash the book repeatedly into the head, which began to scream and wail. After several dozen or so strikes, the dreadnought stopped and slumped its shoulders in disappointment to see that the head was still whole, but at least it was no longer whispering vile heresy.

“SPEAK CUNTING CREATURE OF SHIT WRITING AND MARY FUCKING SUES!!!” started Fuklaw “FUCKING TELL US WHERE WE CAN FIND MORE COPIES OF THE CODEX ASTARTES, OR ELSE WE’LL GET TO FIND OUT WHICH OF THE TWO OF US WOULD WIN IN A FUCKING GLARING CONTEST!!!” (Fuklaw has yet to lose a staring contest, even Sly Marbo blinks under his gaze). “And why should I tell you?” replied the shrunken head, in a voice like sticky fingers being rubbed over a brand new codex “you will only lock me back up with the vile chunk of metal you call a codex, so go fu…” the head continued, only to be “interrupted” by Mofo as he began the beat the head over and over again with Fagbasher. “FUCKING (smack) TELL (crack) US (crash) WHERE (punch) WE CAN (deep throating action with Fagbasher) GET MORE (kick) SHIT PAPER!!!” Mofo bellowed, followed up by several more impacts just to drive the point home, leaving the head softly moaning on the floor, then strided over to the dreadnought carrying the codex angry marines, snatched the impossibly heavy book and hefted it over the now quivering skull.

“Alright!” screamed the head “I’ll tell you please just get that vile…” only to be interrupted as Mofo swung the Codex Angry Marines onto the head as Fuklaw instinctively shouted “HERSEY!!!” “TRY AGAIN YOU PRICK!!!” said Maximus “THIS TME WITH LESS FUCKING NECKBEARD HERETICAL SHIT!!!”. “There is a place,” whispered the head, “a shrine, built by the ultramarines, the Necrons, grey knights and Eldar for myself to sit in, they filled it with my greatest works and a giant portrait of my beautiful face from when I was still whole (KICK) OW!!! (whimpering) one of the many things they put there was crate after crate of the codex Astartes, they built the shrines foundations out of it, it is the centre of the word of ward and all that is goo… (repeated stomping my multiple people) (silence, whimper) there’s enough copies of the codex there for you for thousands of years now please just FUCK OFF!!!” There was a moment of silence as all those assembled considered this, or at least all except Moarfistin, who just stood there, steam pillowing from his ears and lighting trickling from his fingertips. “WHERE CAN WE FIND THIS MOST HERETICAL AND SHIT PLACE?!!!” Asked the Chapter Master, his tone mellowed somewhat by the thought of such a vile place even existing. “In a part of the web way which has been cut off, it is only accessible via a gate on the planet of…” pausing for dramatical effect “Solemnance!”

After a moments pause Pissedoff placed the Codex Angry Marines on top of the head (which began to squeal) as the large blast doors behind the assembled group opened, to reveal a Warhound titan, which began to stride towards the squealing head on the floor. Backing away to watch the show, the Angry Marine high command watched as the titan stood looming over the book and the head, raised one of its gigantic feet, and brought it crashing down with a force to powerful enough to crack open tanks, on top of the book/head sandwich. “IS IT FUCKING DEAD?!!!” shouted the assembled marines hopefully as the Master of the Armoury scuttled towards the impact point, only to start cursing and kicking the Warhound’s leg. The head was, unfortunately, was still alive. As the three dreadnoughts escorted the now violently swearing and sobbing Pissedoff from the room, the remaining marines turned towards Temperus Maximus, awaiting his decision.

“PACK YOUR SKITTLES AND YOUR FUCKING CHAINSWORDS!!!” shouted Maximus with a sinister grin on his face, “WE’RE GOING TO FUCKING SOLEMNANCE!!!”

Chapter 2

Behind the scenes however, the galaxy began to respond to the angry marine decision to go book hunting. Some, like the followers of Nurgle and Tzeentch had been planning for this for a long time, slowly guiding or anticipating the actions of the angry marines, while the mortal follows of the word of ward felt the reveal of the shrine of wards location as a psychic backlash, activating built in plot points and narrative arches which the fifth (sixth) chaos god had drilled into them. As the chapter master was making his proclamation of a grand, angry marine crusade to Solemnance, a death guard fleet was beginning to exit the warp into real space to surround the assembled angry marine fleet, led by the champion of Nurgle, bringer of Crotch Rot.

“Our sorcerers have homed in on the scent of their festering anuses my lord, when we exit the warp we shall be right on top of them.” Said Crotch Rot’s second in command and Tallyman, Counter of Infectious Blessings, to his master, “the Angry Marines will be learning of the shrines location as we speak and will be completely unprepared for a surprise attack, or at least as ill prepared for a fight as an Angry Marine can be.” Everything was going according to plan thought Crotch Rot, Grandpa Nurgle had seen fit to bless him with many mutations and gift him with his own flagship he had named “Free Hugs”, and now he was about to bring the blessings of Nurgle to the Angry Marines and prevent them from discovering the Shrine of Ward (shiver), ensuring that their anuses would putrefy for all eternity.

“My Lord,” Counter of Infectious Blessings interjected into Crotch Rot’s thoughts “what are we to do with the… Head of Ward, once we have hugged all of the Angry Marines into submission? Even the chaos spa… (cough) that which will not be named are becoming nervous at being so close to such a relic.” “I have been informed by the Great Unclean ones that Nurgle wishes to possess the head for himself to create even more gifts and blessings for the galaxy, the mild discomfort of it being aboard our ship will be repaid a thousand times over in the form of the love of our father.” Replied Crotch rot, who was very much looking forward to receiving a bed time story from Nurgle himself, and maybe some pet nurglings.

Counter of Infectious Blessings was about to say that he’d happily give up all of his pet nurglings if it meant that he didn’t have to be around the head for a prolonged period of time, when a sorcerer barged into the room. “My lord!” oozed and sputtered the mass of putrid flesh “we have just entered real space, but we have detected the presence of another fleet of ships also exiting the warp!” Crotch Rot and Counter of Infectious Blessings looked confusedly (or as confused as you can when your facial muscles have rotted away eons ago), they were not expecting anyone else, had papa Nurgle seen fit to provide reinforcements? “Who is it?” asked Crotch rot “is it more Angry Marines? We’ve got enough people to bless without more of them turning up.” “No, your infectiousness,” stammered the sorcerer, chunks of flesh flicking of his form in agitation “it’s far far worse its….”

“JUST AS PLANNED!!!” cackled the champion of Tzeentch, Trololololol “THE FOOLISH DISEASE WORSHIPPERS HAVE FALLEN INTO OUR TRAP, WE SHALL SWOOP IN A STEAL THE VILE HEAD OF WARD AND I SHALL BRING IT TO TZEENTCH HIMSELF AND ACHIEVE DEMON PRINCEHOOD, JUST AS PLANNED!!!” Behind him, stood and sighed quietly his second in command, sorceress Elzbeth the Mind Shaper, who had frankly grown tired of all her masters scheming and plans, or rather she hadn’t grown tired of his plans, his plans were some of the finest around and his followers followed him not purely out of the power he had been granted by Tzeentch (although that is certainly part of it), but because of the brilliance of his plans. However, his insanity had begun to show more and more as the centuries had ground on to the point that he would plan decades in advance the arrival of a cup of tea, screaming “JUST AS PLANNED!!!” when it was finally delivered after many years of manipulation, while neglecting to plan for major battles, merely stating that it was all “JUST AS PLANNED!!!” And she had been so ambitious in her youth, or rather her ambition had had a razor edge to it, now, after centuries of following an insane genius, her ambition had dulled, although it still had enough weight to club someone to death (Tzeentch followers are big on analogies).

“Are my troops ready Elzbeth? Don’t answer, I already now, they’re all assembled in their boarding torpedoes as I speak.” Said Trololololol, his hands moving their erratic spiders up and down his staff in excitement. Elzbeth smacked her palm into her face in exasperation. “You know that the troops are all assembled your allseeingness because you asked me that question two minutes and I told you the answer,” replied the exasperated sorceress, not even bothering to conceal her anger now, especially as she knew that all he was going to do was shout just as planned. “JUST AS PLANNED!!!” shouted Trololololol (“told you,” she thought) “give the signal for the assault to begin, the head of the fifth (sixth) chaos god shall be MINE!!!”

Chapter 3

The first thing the Angry Marines knew of the assault was when Moarfistin exploded into a scream of “FUCKING NURGLINGS!!!” which could be heard across the entire Angry Marine fleet (sound may not travel through a vacuum, but fury does), followed almost immediately by the detection of two separate fleets disgorging boarding torpedoes and unleashing barrages of void missiles and lance batteries at the angry marine battle barges. Immediately the battle barges began to return fire, with automated weapons and serf manned batteries firing upon the encroaching torpedoes, with those torpedoes that did meet their mark being greeted by a traditional angry marine welcome of Chainswords and kicks to the balls, but the combined pressure of two separate fleets backed up by demonic powers was clearly too much for the chapter, which now ran the risk of being annihilated.

In the winding corridors of the Maximum Fuck, a squad of serfs were desperately trying to hold the corridor leading the main hangar as they were advanced upon by space marines of Nurgle from one side and Tzeentch on the other, bolter fire, warp lightning and gushes of oozing pox felling any serf who out of cover (and even in cover). But the Angry Serfs would not retreat, partly because they were all Angry pricks, one of these angry pricks (or ovaries in this case) was Ching Shin, once a special weapons expert for the imperial guard until she one day saw some demons and was scheduled to be sterilised. Until the Angry Marines rescued her and recruited her as an Angry Serf, where she had let a very angry but happy life, until a bunch of Tzeentch and Nurgle worshippers had decided to be a bunch of cunts and attack her ship. As it stands, her situation is hopeless, thankfully for her at least, Temperus Maximus will appear behind the Tzeentch worshippers and shout “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!” in about a paragraphs time.

“Fuck these festering cunts!!!” shouted Ching to her commissar who was the last member of her squad left as she fired her plasma rifle down the corridor towards the cover camping Death Guard, although as angry as she was she was glad they were staying put, and knew that the only reason why they were staying put was because they didn’t want to charge into the corridor of Tzeentch worshippers behind her. “STOP YOUR FUCKING COMPLAINING AND JUST SHOOT THE CUNTS!!!” screamed the commissar, who was too far into HERESEY!!! Mode to care what she was saying and simply kept firing their bolt pistol towards the hiding Tzeentch marines, chunks of metal plating erupting from the walls as the bolt rounds missed their mark until finally, the commissars bolt pistol and Ching’s plasma rifle ran dry, and a veil fell over the corridor as their foes all smiled behind their helmets, and began to advance on their position.

Or at least, the Death Guard marines got five metres down their corridor before arches of lightning began to spike between them, putrid flesh boiling and melting away as the marines embraced their inevitable demise. And through the puddles of bubbling puss, faecal matter and fleeing Nurglings, strode the Chief Mindfucker, Moarfistin, warp energy curling around his right hand while his left hand held is fisting stick, with a chaos marine suitable impaled up the backside upon it. At the sight of one of the galaxies most feared and brutal psykers the Tzeentch worshippers tried to flee the way they came, lest their behinds be subjected to a fisting, only to run straight into the adamantium chest and Cheshire grin of Temperus Maximus, each fist enclosed around the crushed heads of two marines. “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!” bellowed the Chapter Master, as he began to rein down his fists into screaming faces and power feet into soon to be obliterated genitals. It only took a few seconds, but as Ching walked from her cover she walked through ankle deep blood mixed with chunks of flesh and power armour, and what did she say to her two saviors?

“Took you fucking long enough you bunch of lazy cunts! Where were you earlier? Licking each other’s’ arseholes while you platted your hair! For fucks sake, even the fucking commissars dead now as well, we’d have about fifty angry bastards left if it wasn’t for you brown nosing bastards!”

In most other chapters, this would have earned Ching a bolt round to the head, or perhaps Slow lobotomization into a servitor, but as she stared down one of the galaxies angriest beings and called him a cunt, the Chapter Master could only smile a grin so wide it showed all of his dirty brown teeth. “YOU!!!” he almost whispered at Ching “I THINK I MIGHT HAVE A FUCKING JOB FOR A CUNT AS ANGRY AS YOU!” Striding forward and grasping Ching by the scruff of her flak armour and lifting her into the air. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW, ABOUT THE HEAD OF WARD?!!!”

Five minutes later, Ching found herself running down a long corridor carrying a black bag over her shoulder holding the Head of Ward, while Moarfistin kept up beside her carrying the Codex Angry Marines, barely taxing his superhuman form to keep up with the now panting Ching, as they both made their way towards the Maximum Fucks second hangar. The orders the Chapter Master had given Ching had been very clear, take the fucking head, get off the ship, and make her way to Solemnance and either find the Shrine of Ward, or meet up with the rest of the Angry Marines along the way after they had dealt with the ambushing fleets, as without the worry of protecting (preventing other cunts from stealing it) the Head of Ward from enemy hands the Angry Marines were free to simply run rampant through the enemies ranks, and it would be only a matter of time before the forces of chaos started fighting each other. But firstly, Ching and Moarfistin had to find a way off the Maximum Fuck without getting shot/stabbed/turned into that which will not be named/hugged, and although Moarfistin was more than capable of annihilating anything before him his sheer rage and psychic outbursts made him visible to any psyker within a mile, and thus the two adventures had become prime targets for anyone lacking a target to shoot at.

“Why the fuck did you have to come along you pansy cunt?!” Ching shouted as she kicked Moarfistin in the shins hard enough to be felt through power armour “your fucking attracting every cunt nearby wanting to make their points cost back and you keep stopping to stamp on Nurglings!” “FUCKING NURGLINGS!!!” Moarfistin simply screamed in response as he stamped on yet another fleeing ball of adorableness and heresy but otherwise didn’t bother to respond to the “INSOLENT BITCHES” insults, he had been ordered by the Chapter Master to a. ensure that the serf fucker completed her job and b. hit the Head of Ward with the Codex Angry Marines whenever it wouldn’t shut up. He still wasn’t happy about it (he was furious about it, which also pleased him) but as long as he was able to purge all traces of Nurgle he found then he would do his job and only complain slightly more than usual. “You stink like a Death Guard toilet now as well, you fucking idiot! Emperor fucking save me the smells getting even shittier!” Gagged Ching as a wave of nausea overtook her, she tried clinging Moarfistin’s side to balance herself only to be hit by a fit of stomach cramps and vomiting which forced her to her knees, one hand clutching her stomach and the although desperately holding onto the Black sack which held the Head of Ward. “GET UP YOU FUCKY PUSSY!!!” Ordered Moarfistin as he took up a stance in the centre of the corridor “WE’VE GOT MORE SHIT FOR EVERYTHINGS INCOMING!!!” Ching managed to raise her head enough, vomit still dribbling down her chin, to gaze, eyes watering, towards where Moarfistin was facing and the source of the ever-encroaching stench.

Advancing towards them from where they had come, strode (and oozed) the Champion of Nurgle, Crotch Rot, flanked on one side by Counter of Infectious Blessings, a pen in hand as he wrote in a huge human leather volume which dripped puss and bile as if it too were alive. Behind them scampered, rolled and chittered a mass of tentacles and mouths which Ching knew enough about to not even name them in her mind. Things would have gone rapidly downhill from there for Ching (probably starting with her face melting off), as without power armour, a super human constitution and some heavy weapons, an Angry Serf’s (no matter how angry) no match for a champion of chaos. But before Crotch Rot could say anything along the lines of “who would like a hug?” Moarfistin, instead of firing bolts of lightning or Bolter rounds, rested the spine of the Codex Angry Marines against his chest, and opened it towards the advance pile of bile and happiness. Immediately the corridor erupted into a long and impossibly load scream of “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU....” which rattled the very skeleton of the ship, with chunks of metal plating being ripped from the walls to impale the advancing forces of Nurgle as chunks of rotten flesh were ripped from their forms, forcing the horde back the way they had come and forcing Moarfistin, despite his super human strength, to slide in the opposite direction, picking up speed as the longer books fury was unleashed. Almost as an afterthought, Moarfistin grabbed the still gagging and deafened Ching from the floor before she got out of reach, and as he slung her over his shoulder like a very ill rag doll, he fixed the somehow still standing Crotch Rot with a glare which communicated all of his disgust towards his very existence, stuck up his middle finger and screamed in a voice loud enough to be heard even over the books war cry “FUCK YOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUU....!!!” As he sped faster and faster down the corridor towards the second hangar.

As the books screams became quieter and the wind abated somewhat, Crotch Rot straightened himself up and surveyed the destruction around him as his tally man picked himself up, having lost his book and an arm in the carnage. “You know,” started Crotch Rot in a weird voice as his cheeks had been ripped from his face “something tells me that they didn’t want any hugs for some reason.” “Better luck next time my lord,” replied Counter of Infectious Blessing, in an optimistic voice even as his other arm fell off “maybe they had an important appointment to get to, and look on the bright side, now we have the chance to grow some new limbs.”

== A 'difficult' beginning ==

Battle-Brother Alfion of the Angry Marines Chapter was having one fucking shitty day. Because Battle-Brother Alfion had been part of the first batch of Primaris Marines sent - reluctantly - by Lord Commander Roboute Guilliman to the Angry Marines. The contingent had been small. For starters, there had not been many Desert Fangs Neophytes left at the end of the Heresy to be put in stasis by Archmagos Cawl until such time as he had perfected his modification of the Astartes creation process. Then there was the fact that Girly... Guilliman had been unwilling to reinforce a Chapter that so openly embodied what he viewed as the worst aspects of his tempestuous brother, Rachnus Rageus.

Battle-Brother Alfion had at first looked forward to the reunion with those other sons of his gene-father, and to share with them the ideas he had about how to mix their headstrong culture with the precepts of the Codex Astartes, taught to him after his awakening from stasis and modification, to better wield their fury against the ennemies of the Empra... Emperor. He had started to worry when he had learned the name of his distant Bothers' Chapter's name. He had understood as well as any member of the Desert Fangs Legion the need to erase the knowledge of the existence of their Legion, but surely they could have chosen a more dignified name? Then he had heard whispers among the crew of the ship ferrying his contingent to the Angry Marines Battle Barge, the Litany of Litany's Litany. The mortals were ''afraid'', deathly so. So much, in fact, that they were planning on shooting the Primaris Marines at the Battle Barge. '''Literally''' shooting them. From their cannons. Then run away.

Brother-Captain Medina had reassured them, reminding them that righteous fury was one of their greatest strengths and sources of pride, and that devoid of their other pride, the Silencers, their brothers had just given their rage a greater emphasis. The words of Brother-Captain Media, one of the very few experienced Desert Fangs Marines put in stasis at the end of the Heresy, inspired respect and faith among the men serving under him.

And ''then'' came the actual meeting with the Angry Marines. As Brother-Captain Medina approached the nearest red-and-yellow clad Battle-Brothers to hail them, after dusting off the fragments of the hull they had been shot through, he was met by a thunderous yell of "WHO THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU SPINELESS CUNTS SUPPOSED TO BE?!? MORE ULTRASMURFS FAGGOTS?!? IT'S FUCKING BAD ENOUGH GIRLYMAN IS BACK WITHOUT COCK-SUCKING FANBOYS FUCKING AROUND OUR BATTLE BARGE!!"

The contingent was stunned, to say the least, by this lack of respect. "What did you just say?" asked an incredulous Medina. "DO YOU HAVE SHIT IN YOUR EARS AS WELL AS IN YOUR BRAIN?!? I ASKED WHO YOU FUCKING FAGGOTS WERE!!" Medina regained enough of his composure to answer "We are the Primaris reinforcement sent from Mars by Lord Guilliman to strengh..." "SO YOU ARE GIRLYMAN'S COCKSUCKING SPECIAL SNOWFLAKES?!? AND YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO REINFORCE US?!? THAT'S THE BEST FUCKING JOKE SINCE THAT TIME WE PLAYED PUNCH THE CUNT WITH THE SHIT-EATING BLUEBERRIES WEEABOOS!!"

Things had only become worse from then. Alfion could not believe he was once ready to call those assholes brothers. They respected nothing but brute strength and loud yelling, litteraly shat on Guilliman's teachings, and made him and his brothers do all the menial jobs and things they didn't feel like doing. And now Medina was one of them, having snapped after one insult too many and decked the nearest cunt in his fucking face before going on a rampage in the shithole that was the Litany of Litany's Litany. When they came to, the fags had hailed him as Tantrumus Fuckingham, and he had since then stopped responding to "Medina".

Alfion wasn't sure why he hadn't done the same already. Maybe some lingering desire to improve this hellhole of a Chapter, a remnant of his new conditionning on Mars. He would give one last try at showing them how the Codex could be put to good use...

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Alfion tried to open his eyes but couldn't. He tried to shake his head but couldn't. He tried to get up but couldn't. He couldn't move. But somehow he could see. And what he saw was that fucker Mightilypissedoff III glaring at him. "WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO ME, YOU SAD EXCUSE FOR A TOASTER?" He paused. "WHY IS MY VOICE BOOMING? WHAT THE SHIT IS HAPPENING?" "THE SILENT ANGRY CUNTS SENT US THIS PILE OF SCREWS AS A GIFT. APPARENTLY, THEY'RE SO WEAK THE MACHINE SPIRIT WAS HAVING FUN KILLING EVERY FAGGOT THEY INTERED IN IT!!" answered Mightilypissedoff.

"INTERED? YOU MANIACS HAVE PUT ME IN A FUCKING DREADNOUGHT BECAUSE I SAID WE COULD USE THE CODEX ASTARTES FOR SOMETHING ELSE THAN WIPE YOUR STINKING ASSES?"

"I'M NOT SOME LAME DREADNOUGHT, FAGGOT, I'M A REDEMPTOR AND I'LL FUCK YOUR SHIT!!" answered a mechanical voice.

"WAIT... YOU PUT ME IN A WALKING COFFIN WHOSE MACHINE SPIRIT IS FUCKING INSANE?!"

"YOU WOULDN'T BE IN THERE IF YOU WEREN'T ALREADY A WEAK PIECE OF SHIT. I'M JUST FLUSHING!!" answered the Machine Spirit.

"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF RUST! I'LL KICK YOU IN YOUR NON-EXISTENT BALLS UNTIL YOU SCREAM FOR MERCY LIKE THE LITTLE BITCH YOU ARE!! I DIDN'T ASK TO BE PUT IN STASIS AND EXPERIMENTED ON BY CRAWLY MCGUFFINFACE!! I DIDN'T ASK TO BE SENT BY FUCKING GIRLYMAN TO YOU ANGSTY CUNTS!! I'LL WRECK ALL OF YOU SHITS ONCE I'M DONE WITH THIS FUCKING PIECE OF GARBAGE!!"

At this, the Redemptor starting hitting itself while violently shaking, as if someone was punching it from the inside. Mightilypissedoff could only make out bits of the yelling coming from inside: "-THINK YOU'RE TOUGH YOU FAGGOT?!? -I'LL SHOW YOU TOUGH YOU FUCKING TOASTER!!" Having had enough of this emo cockslaping contest, the Master of the Armory picked up his wrench and started beating this new Redemptor Belligerent Engine - the first of its kind - into sullen unconsciousness.

Thus started the story of Cunt Pounder, the first Redemptor Belligerent Engine of the Angry Marines.

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The feral world of Allanus was being set upon by a warband of the Black Legion. The locals, brave though they were, could not stand against the heretical Astartes. So when some keen-eyed warrior spotted a red and yellow vessel of the "Sky Angels", hope grew. But nothing happened. No righteous demi-gods descended from the heavens to help them. Until ''something'' fell from the sky in a trail of fire and impacted in the middle of the Chaos Marines. From the crater rose a yellow and red Redemptor Dreadnought of a strange pattern. Looking at their sole opponent, the Legionnaires laughed and opened fire. The dreadnought started shaking before suddenly yelling "ALL RIGHT, WHY ARE YOU PIECES OF SHIT INTERRUPTING ME WHEN I'M BUSY COCKSLAPING THIS FUCKING TOASTER TO DEATH?!?" before punching itself in the 'face'.

Recovering from their surprise at this outsburst, the traitors fired again at the Dreadnought. "THAT DOES IT!! I'LL TEAR YOU FUCKERS A NEW ASSHOLE TO TEACH YOU NOT TO INTERUPT ME WHEN I'M TRYING TO MURDERFUCK THIS CUNTSY BOLTPILE!!" yelled Cunt Pounder before charging the bemused Legionnaires and starting to punch their faces out and crotches in, in between violent blows to its own frame.

Aboard the Litany of Litany's Litany, the Angry Marines were relaxing, downing cold ones and eating skittles while watching Cunt Pounder punch his way though the warband and their pet demons. They stopped and spat out their beers/skittles when they saw him start punching his way though the planet in sheer '''RAGE'''. "- FUCK!! YOU THINK WE SHOULD STOP THIS ASSHOLE?!? - SCREW THAT, I'M NOT GETTING ANYWHERE NEAR HIM AND THAT CRAZY MACHINE OF HIS!!"

So they sat back and resumed drinking while Cunt Pounder punched his way through the mantle of the planet, then its core, then back through as the planet exploded.

"WELP, THAT WAS FUN WHILE IT FUCKING LASTED!! WAIT... WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT?!?" The sight of Cunt Pounder spiraling through the remains of Allanus, still punching itself and shaking with '''RAGE''', exploding the rocks in its way, was enough to make the Angry Marines bring him back on board the Litany of Litany's Litany, where he proceeded to punch them, yelling "NOW IT'S YOUR FUCKING TURN YOU PANSIES!!". Only a repeated application of power bats to its frame managed to put him back to 'sleep'. It was afterwards unanimously agreed to only deploy Cunt Pounder in the direst of emergencies. Or in proximity of Ultrasmurfs, to watch the ensuing hilarity.

==Three way clusterfuck==

In the 42nd millenium, there was only war. At least as far as the people living on Genericus III were concerned the world had fallen prey first to a wave of Chaos Cults uprisings amazingly well coordinated, and let by Space Marines clad all in blue and silver, with weird green-adorned pauldrons. The Loyalist forces were being pushed back by the sheer savagery and fanaticism of the damned slaves of the Ruinous Powers and the might of the Heretic Astartes when the situation took a turn for the worse: a pack of Blood Axes Kommandos made landfall on Genericus III. Nobody knew why the Greenskins had come. Maybe the battle had resonnated through their Waaaaaagh field, or maybe it had just been a coincidence. But there are no such things as coincidence in the grim and dark future of the 42nd Millenium…

[[File:Sergeant Asshole McCuntsface art.jpeg|thumb|left|'' THAT’S A FUCKING LOVELY HEAD YOU HAVE THERE!!! IT WOULD BE A CUNTING SHAME IF SOMEONE MURDER STABBED IT!!!'']]

The sudden arrival of the Orks had thrown the carefully laid plans of the Alpha Legion commander, Duns Scottus. Fuming at the loss of certain victory, he began to plan anew, including the new arrivals in his strategy of misdirection, backstabbing and infiltration (although that last one might prove difficult to achieve with Xenos, unless he painted some of his men green and implanted big fangs in their mouths…).
Meanwhile, Boss Bestasnik was having the time of his life. He and his boys had come to this planet of humies out of sheer boredom and had found it already teeming with fun. Apparently, some of the pointy beakies were busy sneakin’ around already, so he had decided to join in on the fun and show them how to sneak properly!

The locals of Genericus III, those loyal to the Imperium that had survived, could only hole up and defend what few strongholds they still held, all the while praying to the God-Emperor for help. Their prayers were answered when a yellow and red battle barge appeared over the war-torn planet. It broadcast a message saying ‘NOTHING TO SEE HERE!!! WE ARE DEFINITLY NOT THERE TO KICK SOME MOTHERFUCKING SNEAKY CUNTSY ASS !!!’ then shot down multiple drop pods that streaked towards the surface at a surprisingly (at least for those used to seeing such deployments) high speed.

From those emerged Astartes taller than those the natives had been used to seeing over the millenia, clad in power armor matching in color the battle barge, and whose helmets were fashioned after skulls. They started to march forward, ready to blast the ennemies of the Imperium to pieces. But their stance was weird… It looked as if they were… tiptoeing?

From the other side of the planet, Duns Scottus had heard the announcement and seen the drop pods falling. His anger at having to change his plans once more because of yet-other new arrivals faded when he was told that the followers of Emperor were tiptoeing around in plain sight, garbed in garish colours, and yelling at the top of their overpowered vox-broadcasters that they were ‘SNEAKING YOU CUNTS!!! NOTHING TO SEE HERE, WE’RE JUST SNEAKING BEHIND YOU TO KICK YOU CUNTSY ASS OFF-PLANET !!!’ He just could not believe that anyone would be stupid enough to broadcast to everyone on the planet that they were sneaking. It had to be a trap. He started ignoring every report of those loud Marines, dismissing them as a distraction, while he started looking for the real loyalist threat that had to be somewhere else.

Bestasnik also could not believe it when told about the weird Marines, but not for the same reason: ‘Dos beakies are doin’ it wrong, dey are all yellow so dey should be ‘splodin’, not sneakin’. It’s purple dat’s da sneakiest!’ So dumbfounded was he by that illogical turn of event that he completly forgot to keep attacking the spiky Beakies or the squishy humies.

Angry Reiver Sergeant Asshole McCuntsface was also having the time of his life. His infiltration technique, honed on multiple battlefields and brawls with those little shits that called themselves his brothers (or rather called themselves ‘FUCKING ANGRY MARINES YOU DUMB CUNT OF A GIRLYMAN’S TOY !!!’), was working perfectly. Neither the DUMB AS SHIT GREENSKINS or THOSE BLUE BELLIED WORM CUNTS OF THE WEAKASS BULLSHIT LEGION had noticed his men’s approach. They were now perfectly placed to launch a SNEAK ATTACK ON THOSE FUCKERS!!!

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Two days later, Duns Scottus turned in amazement to his second-in-command and banner bearer, Swiffer.

‘- What in the name of Chaos just happened? How did our forces get crushed so easily? And I can’t even find a trace of the Greenskins…

- My lord, it’s those weird Marines. The yellow and red ones. They have been picking out our forces and the Orks since their arrivals by tearing out their balls and hitting them with it, before making a gigantic ass statue out of the corpse so that they could, and I quote here ‘KICK THE COLLECTIVE ASS OF THE FUCKERS WHO THOUGHT THEY WERE BETTER AT SNEAKING THAN US’. And then they started taking turns kicking it until it exploded. And now they’re on their way here’.

- What? We need to escape now ! Tell the men to withdraw from this planet immediatly!

-There are no more ships for us to use, Lord. The Loyalists destroyed them all yelling ‘SNEAK ATTACK!!! WE’RE SNEAK ATTACKING THOSE SHIPS YOU FUCKERS!!!’

-We’ll just use the locals’ ships then! I will not let one of the heads of the Hydra be crushed, even by Loyalists that are better at infiltration than us!

- You really don’t get it, do you? They destroyed ''all'' the ships. Even the local ones. And they are not better at sneaking. They litteraly yelled that they were sneaking, but you refused to believe it. It’s really time for me to be going. I’ve stayed here to long, and my ‘Brothers’ could catch up to me at any time.

-Swiffer, what are you saying? And why are you wearing the green of the Angels? And where did that giant sword come from? Swiffer, where are you? ''Swiffeeeeeerr!!''’

<center>♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦</center>

When the battle barge 'Whisper of Secrets' of the Dark Angels Space Marines Chapter entered the Genericus system following the detection of the ''totally-not-fallen-Angel'' known as Cypher, they were quite surprised to find the Angry Marines Battle barge ‘FUCKYOURSHIT’ already in orbit above Genericus III. When transmissions from the planet finally reached them, they were even more astonished at learning their 'cousins' had completely eradicated the Alpha Legion and Blood Axe forces on the planet. More concerning, however, was the fact that they had also anihilated every single ship on the planet, be they civilian or military, Orks, Traitors or Loyalists.

Wary at the thought that their prey might still be on the planet, waiting to be found by anyone, especially the angry nutters, Brother-Captain Berith of the 5th Company decided to hail the 'FUCKYOURSHIT' to demand they be handed over control of the campaign in the name of the hunt for Traitor Astartes, something they were far better equiped to do. No response was sent by the battle barge. Although it started to leave the orbit of Genericus III. Berith was initially relieved before being informed that it was now heading straight for the 'Whisper of Secrets'. Every attempt to hail the rapidly approaching battle barge was met with silence, until it came to a sudden (and violent) halt in boarding range. A single message was sent: ‘OH NO YOU DON’T YOU COCKSUCKING KILLSTEALING FUCKTARDS !!!’

The after-action report of the campaign of Genericus III, submitted by the local governor to the Estate Imperium, stated that the Angry Marines forces of the battle barge 'FUCKYOURSHIT' had completly anihilated the Traitor Forces, as well as the vile Xenos that had assaulted the world. It also mentionned that the entire crew of the Dark Angels battle barge 'Whisper of Secrets' had been unable to sit for two weeks straight after the official handover of power between the two Astartes Chapter. When asked by the Estate about the circumstances of the handover, the Unforgiven refused to comment.

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==The Making of an Angry Marine==

Shitforbrains stared at the console before him, his eyes not believing what he was seeing on the screen. Glancing around the room where the final initiation was to take place he saw similar looks of shock and welling anger on the other initiates while two Angry Chaplains watched over the scene before them, their furious gazes burning into the foreheads of the soon to be Angry Marines before them. “RIGHT YOU SACKS OF ORK CRAP!!!” bellowed one of the Chaplains “I DON’T NEED TO FUCKING TELL YOU WHAT TO DO!!! WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN HERE WHEN I COULD BE FUCKING PUNCHING SOMETHING INSTEAD!!!” “BECAUSE YOUR A TAU WEEABOO PRICK WHO HAS TO MENTOR SHITS LIKE THESE!!!” shouted the other Chaplain at the first, swinging a pre-emptive punch, more as something to do than out of any real anger.

The initiates ignored the two fighting Chaplain’s, they were all still too preoccupied by the screens before each of them. “Why did it have to be this?!” whispered one of the initiates, his hands visibly trembling over the ancient computers keypad while another initiate began to shed terrified and furious tears, an act which would normally have had the other initiates beating him over the head, but right now they all felt like crying, as on the screen before them, glowing on the screens which seemed to burn into their retinas was the green and white start up text of Battle toads. Shitforbrains thought back over his past five years he had been training and completing the Angry Marine trials to become a full battle brother, he had spent his time as an Angry Ganger, getting slowly furious while aiming down a sniper scope that he just wanted to swing like a bat into the nearest enemy, he’d shoved a grenade down a Homogaunt’s throat (after wrestling the terrified and retreating xeno to the ground), he’d shouted down a howling banshee and only suffered minor deafness as a result, he’d even survived for a couple of seconds under the withering glare of Commissar Fuklaw (the longest any initiate had ever done before catching fire), but this, this was the final, and most difficult, trial he and his fellow initiates had to complete.

Their task, was to complete Battletoads, the hardest and most infuriating game in existence.

Glancing over his shoulder, trying to delay the inevitable, Shitforbrains spotted the three Angry Tech Priests and Apothecary who were there to take away any initiate who completely lost his mind while playing the game so that he could be turned into a Kill-a-Tor, a proposition which Shitforbrains was seriously considering. He could just quit now, it would mean that he’d have to scrub out toilets and work in the battle barge MAXIMIUM FUCKS library for two years, but he’d be able to take the test again after those two years and he’d only receive a minor beating and cursing for doing so, the final initiation test still scared full battle brothers after all. “Fuck Fuck Fuckity Fuck!” screamed Shitforbrains in his head “You’re not fucking quitting now you pussy Tau weeaboo, get your dick out of your ass and getting fucking playing this stupid game!” And at that, he grasped the computers controls, and began to play.

Four hours later and Shitforbrains was still only on the second level, the tech priests had seen fit to set the game to its highest possible difficulty, and had fitted the computer with the most unresponsive of keyboards, the keyboard alone had been enough to make one initiate flee the room screaming curse words, while another had fallen to the ground foaming at the mouth, swear words bubbling up through the foam as the tech priests carried him from the room. But Shitforbrains and the other initiates gave all this only passing thought and contemplation, they were too busy being furious at the games before them, to the point that the rage filling the room had become a palpable smell, like a mix of burnt pizza and junk mail. The two Chaplains had also stopped fighting by this point, and had started roaming the room, looming over the hunched shoulders of initiates and saying things like “YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOUR MEANT TO HIT THE FUCKER NOT ENGAGE IN LIGHT FOREPLAY!!!” and “GAME OVER YOU BASTARD!!! GAME FUCKING OVER!!!” as the gamers collided with enemies or sent their character tumbling to their deaths.

Eight hours later and Shitforbrains had started getting twitchy, even with some of his gene seed implanted the long hours starring at the tiny screen before him was making his eyes hurt and he really needed a shit at this point, the rumours about the initiates being fed laxatives in their pre-test meals seemed to be true. Despite all this however, he’d managed to progress through the game to the point that he felt that he could (if given enough time) complete it, he’d got the hand of the clumsy keyboard and had noticed patterns in the ancient software’s programming, he could do this, it may take him days but he could do it, and it would be fucking wor… At this thought, a tiny avatar of an Angry Marine with a crude troll face wandered onto the display, grasped Shitforbrains character by the throat and began to repeatedly kick him in the balls, tiny pixels of blood erupting from the avatar until, in a violent and bloody coughing fit, he coughed up his own testicles. At this, the screen flashed “GAME OVER COCKSUCKER!!!” and went back to the start screen.

For a full minute, Shitforbrains simply starred at the screen, his mouth slightly open, while, out of the corner of his eye, the two Angry Chaplains watched him. What was he supposed to do? The game was impossible, the cunts had modified it to be even more impossible than it already was. At the thought, Shitforbrains slowly raised his gaze to the two Chaplains. “Those cunts,” he thought “they had done this, they were doing this for their own entertainment, they were fUCKing pLAYing WITh Him! WeLL NO FUCKing MoRE!! NO FUCKING MORE!!!” And at that moment, as finally his thoughts played out in his mind in caps locks, Shitforbrains realised that that had been the test all along, but that thought was but a fleeting one, drowned out by his scream of “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!” as he ripped the monitor before him off its adamantium housing, and (using his chair as a springboard) leapt into the air towards the two Chaplains to smash the accursed computer onto their skulls.

At the sudden release of rage the remaining seven initiates mental damns also broke, and they too began screaming and cursing in caps lock and exclamation marks at maximum setting, ripping up their tables to swing around at any moving target, even themselves, anything to express the hours of pent up fury which had grown to explosive levels inside themselves. As if by predetermined signal (in reality its more that battle brothers will hang around final initiations because they know that they’re always a good source of fights) all the doors to the test room exploded open and a tide of Angry Marines raged inwards, wielding any weapon they could carry, until the small space was a swell of swearing and fighting marines.

Several hours later, the eight initiates were dragged, bruised, broken and swearing before the Chapter Master, Temperus Maximus, who simply glared down at the initiates, the Codex Angry Marines clasped under one giant, armoured arm. “YOU!!!” bellowed Maximus at Shitforbrains as he struggled to his feet on one broken leg, news about him being the first initiate to snap must have travelled “WHAT IS YOUR NAME YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!!!” Grimacing at the pain in his leg, the young initiate bellowed his response “SHITFORBRAINS YOU SHIT HEAD!!! YOU’D BETTER NOT BE THE CUNT WHO PROGRAMMED THAT GAME OTHERWISE I’LL SHOVE A CARNIFEX DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROAT!!!” The Chapter Master gave the smallest of smiles at this before responding “SHUT UP YOU WHINNING PRICK!!! NOW ALL OF YOU HAVE SHOWN THAT YOU’RE A BUNCH OF ANGRY BASTARDS, AND AS THE CHAPTER MASTER I…” pausing to think for a moment before continuing “AH FUCK IT YOUR ANGRY MARINES NOW!!! WELCOME TO THE BRAWL!!!” and with snarling, broken grins on their faces, Shitforbrains and the other new Angry Marines replied in kind.
“ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!”

And at that, the eight initiates charged the Chapter Master, who welcomed the fight with open arms, and as Shitforbrains saw the Codex Angry Marines being swung towards him, in the moments before he was knocked unconscious, he realised that he was finally happy, for the first time in his life. “ITS FUCKING GOOD TO BE AN ANGRY MARINE!!!” he thought before the bliss of unconsciousness took him.

+++++++ 

Thought for the day: Happiness is a... '''THUMP''' STOP TALKING AND JUST HIT THE FUCKERS!!!

+++++++

== Tyranids V Millennials V Angry Titans: A fucking novella, or something ==

The Imperial world of Illis, located within the solar system Illis, within the Illis sub-sector (just in case there was any uncertainty about where rescuing Space Marines might have to go one day), was facing its destruction again. A shadow was cast across the Warp. Psykers began to go insane, raving about monsters and vast gulfs of time and space. Heathens on the planet thought their minor Chaos deity, Lord Cthulhu, was about to wake. The truth was much scarier: Hive Fleet Amemasu was coming, and it was hungry, and Planet Illis was going to be the main course.

Worse news was to come. A previously small and ignored cult calling itself the Millennial Falcons had been on some kind of recruitment drive and had taken over more than half the planet. This wasn't a Chaos cult, they weren't being ruled by xenos puppeteers, they were just a bunch of morons who'd never had to strive or suffer and were trying to make damn sure they never did. Why should they, when there were trillions of other Imperial citizens to do it for them? And yet, here was a request from the authorities to take up arms in defence of their world – to put their precious selves in harm's way.

Instead of building defences or learning how to use a lasgun (since they felt that they didn't have to obey the fucking Planetary Governor), the Millennial Falcons sent a strongly-worded missive of protest to the Emperor himself, believing that He would put His battle against the Chaos Powers on hold and sort the Millenials' shit out for them, because They Had Rights [TM]. When the Emperor did not magically solve all their problems, probably because He thought they were a bunch of lazy cunts, the Millennial Falcons turned completely against the Imperium; after all, this is how atheists have been created throughout human history. Heretical faggotry spread, and spread, and spread.

Governor Mellitus remained loyal to the Throne. He wished to send a message through to the wider Imperium outlining his world's situation and pleading for help. The astropaths told him to send it him-fucking-self, they would no longer be discriminated against by being the only humans who sent psychic messages these days (ignoring the fact that they were the only humans who could). So Mellitus used a cogitator of considerable power, battling through the constant pop-ups and directories full of lascivious images that had begun to choke his planet's data-net thanks to the Millennials.

Days passed without response. The Hive Fleet drew nearer. Rebellion flared. The outlook was grim. Then, at last, they received a reply.

++ REINFORCEMENTS SANCTIONED ++

++ DEPLOYING THE ANGRY MARINES ++

===Fucking Warp Travel===

The Angry Marines strike cruiser Cackumbabo roared through space at maximum realdrive. Its machine spirit was too pissed off to allow the Techmarines to engage its warp engine; fuck that Chaos crap, Cackumbabo was going into battle the old-fashioned way, even if it took 2000 years.

“COME ON YOU FUCKING LUMP OF WORTHLESS ORKSHIT!” roared Captain Twatsplasher, whacking the sacred warp engine with his power-wrench. “WE'VE GOT FACES TO RAPE!!!”

“DON'T FUCKING DO THAT, MY LORD!” cried Brother Terridyne, their chief Techmarine, trying to wrestle the weapon/tool/phallic symbol from Twatsplasher's white-knuckled grip. “FOR FUCK'S SAKE, WE'LL END UP GETTING BUMMED BY DAEMONS! BALANCE YOUR BLOODY HUMOURS!!”

“NO-BOLLOCKS WASTREL!!! IF YOU DON'T GET THIS SHIP INTO THE WARP IN FIVE SECONDS FLAT, I'LL BLAST MYSELF OUT OF THE NEAREST FUCKING AIRLOCK, SWIM BACK TO YOUR HOME PLANET AND BALANCE YOUR WHITESHIELD-SUCKING MUM ON MY RAMROD YOU FAGGOT!!!!”

The techmarine began to unclasp the front of his power-trousers.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, BITCH?!!” screamed Twatsplasher.

“INSTALLING MY SACRED MECHA-PENIS, THAT'S WHAT THE FUCK I'M DOING! I'LL GIVE THIS MECHANICAL CUM-GOBBLER ALL THE THRUST IN THE FUCKING UNIVERSE!!”

The ship panicked and threw itself into the warp with a jolt. Terridyne fell into Twatsplasher's arms.

“ISN'T THIS FUCKING ROMANTIC!” the Captain yelled. “ALL FUCKING YIFFERS KNOW THE PENALTY FOR HUGGING A COMMANDING OFFICER!”

He turned Terridyne around and delivered the sacred punishment of pulling the Techmarine's undergarments over his head. If Terridyne suffered a broken neck or choked to death on his own knicker-elastic, that meant he was heathen scum who deserved it. If he lived, then he was redeemed and would have an opportunity to start fixing some shit around here.

“TWATSPLASHER TO THE FUCKING CIRCUS ROUSTABOUTS CALLING THEMSELVES 3RD COMPANY,” the Captain voxed while the tech-marine stumbled around, arms flailing. “YOU EXCREMENTAL CUNTS CAN STOP TUGGING YOUR BELL-ENDS AND MEET ME IN THE FUCKING BRIEFING ROOM! WAR IS IMMINENT, BITCHES!!!”

“YES YOUR FUCKING MAJESTY!” his men responded as they ran to the briefing room, pulling on helms and loading bolters as they ran. Twatsplasher was a singular Company Commander. His men didn't have to show the reverence he fucking deserved, as he wasn't some Slaaneshi faggot who lived on praise. Besides, the constant exchange of insults kept him sharp.

===Briefing the Pussies from 3rd Company===

Thirty Marines assembled. Only thirty, to face fucking shitloads of Nids. The company used to be 100 strong plus some Dreadnoughts and shit, but whatever happened to the others is not in the Angry Marines databank for some reason, and the last time an Inquisitor tried to check it, she was found hanging upside-down from a 600-foot-tall bastion by her undercrackers. The Angry Marines are equal opportunity psychos.

Twatsplasher appraised the men.

“SEEMS THESE 'MILLENNIAL FALCONS' ARE FAGGOTS, CONTAMINATING OTHERS WITH SAID FAGGOTRY, WHILE EATING LENTILS AND TOUCHING EACH OTHERS' FUCKING BUMS! IT'S BECOME A WORLD OF SELF-RIGHTEOUS THUNDERCUNTS ABOUT TO GET CHEWED!”

“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT, SIR,” Sergeant Dammiel said. “THEY'VE GOT 35 MILLION PDF WANKERS FACING OFF AGAINST A HIVE FLEET AND THEY'RE SENDING BLOODY COMPLAINTS TO THE EMPEROR AND EXPECTING US TO FUCKING DIE FOR THEM?!”

“THAT'S ABOUT THE SIZE OF IT, CUNTYBAWS! IT'S A CLUSTERFUCK OF GRIMDARK PROPORTIONS, TOO MANY LAZY WANKERS ABOUT THESE DAYS!!!”

“DICK-EATING FURFAGGOTS!!!!!” yelled Brother Hammerhead. He was in a fine fury. Spittle flew from his vox-grille. “I'LL KICK THEIR BOLLOCKS UP INTO THEIR THROAT!”

Terridyne the Techmarine had recovered from his wedgie, exhibiting only a slightly shocked look and a yellow smudge on his head.

“MY FUCKING LORD,” he said. “I WOULD NEVER GAINSAY YOU, FOR WE HAVE SERVED TOGETHER THROUGH MANY PERILS, BUT YOU MUST HAVE WRITTEN OUR BATTLE-PLAN WITH YOUR FUCKING COCK OUT! HOW IN THE NAME OF CALGAR'S CRACK DO WE STOP A SODDING HIVE FLEET WITHOUT THOSE PDF WANK-BISCUITS COVERING US?!”

Twatsplasher headbutted him with the force of planets colliding.

“LIKE THAT, CYBER-EMO, HOW DO YOU FUCKING THINK!!!”

“BUT THIS IS BOLLOCKS, BROTHER-CAPTAIN!” said Dammiel. “WHY ARE THOSE INBRED COCKS ALLOWED TO SIT ON THEIR ARSES? IT'S FUCKING TREASON!!!!!”

“THEY'RE NOT FUCKING ALLOWED, YOU WASTE OF SPUNK! AS SOON AS WE'VE RIPPED THE BOLLOCKS OFF HIVE FLEET AMEMASU, WE'RE GOING AFTER THE MILLENNIAL FAGGOTS, AND MAKING SURE THE PUSSY GOVERNOR IS REPLACED BY SOME BASTARD WITH A FUCKING SPINE!”

He looked to his men. The briefing had lasted over three minutes, surely a Chapter record, and they were ready to rip each other to pieces in frustration.

“WE'VE GOT A FUCKING TASK AHEAD!!!” said Twatsplasher. “BUT WHO ARE WE???”

“THE ANGRY MARINES!” the men replied.

“ALWAYS ANGRY!!!”

“ALL THE TIME!!!” his men roared in one voice.

Captain Twatsplasher might have been a horrible cunt, but he was also noble:

“REMEMBER YOU FUCKING BUNCH OF PRATS! BETWEEN US, THE TYRANIDS AND THESE MILLENNIAL TOSSERS, THERE ARE SIXTEEN BILLION CIVILIANS WHO DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON! LAST ONE IN THE DROP POD'S A FUCKING ULTRAMARINE!”

===Making a Fucking Entrance===

The Angry Marines didn't have to worry about the Shadow in the Warp as that only deterred pussies. Cackumbabo exploded into the Illis system with a sound like Slaanesh's whip cracking across Khorne's buttocks. This is not to imply the Angry Marines and their serfs have anything to do with Chaos, it's just what was going on in the warp at that moment.

One Astartes vessel faced off against the incoming swarm of bio-ships. Red and yellow stood against star-bleached purple, scowling faces against faceless maws, human courage against implacable hunger. The Astartes vessel surged forward. Its course took it close to the planet, so close in fact that it nearly fucking landed at one point, and spat drop-pods at the surface. Then the Cackumbabo rocketed into the mass of Nid ships, blazing firepower in every direction, only to be seen again one hour later when its warp engines detonated and dragged a hundred bio-ships to hell. One last FUCK YOU from the Emperor's finest.

Twatsplasher, Terridyne and the chaps landed directly on top of a vanguard swarm that was trying to eat a city. Roaring, frothing Space Marines emerged, screaming an endless “FUUUUUUUUUUUU-” and blizzarding fire into the hurricane of Gaunts, Gargoyles, Stealers and Lictors, creating their own fucked-up biosphere of destroyed bodies. The 3rd Company despised guns as much as the rest of their Chapter but when you were up against a fucking Hive Fleet on your own, you want some bullets for when the enemy is out of headbutting range. Despite applying such tactical prudence they ran out of bolter ammo almost straight away. Wrenches, steel bars, chainswords, foreheads, fists and believe it or not elbows did most of the killing. Twatsplasher was at 160 kills in the first two minutes. The rest of his men thinned the alien herd until only a few traumatised Hormagaunts remained.

“-UUUUUK YOUUUUU!” the war cry ended. The battle was over but the war was only just kicking off. Thousands upon thousands more Nids were coming. Some of them were big bastards too. The Angry Marines formed a circle, pissed off beyond mortal measure that the Emperor's enemies had been allowed to defile this world, and realising that they were now trapped as three additional swarms closed in around them. Smoke and clouds of spores swirled in the air. The sun was almost eclipsed.

“THIS IS IT YOU INBRED AMATEURS!” roared Twatsplasher. “IF THEY OVERRUN US HERE, WE'RE THE CUNTS WHO DOOMED THIS SHITHOLE AND LOST A BLOODY GOOD SHIP IN SO DOING! WE HOLD!!! FIRST ONE TO DIE SUCKS ELDAR KNOBS!!!!!!”

“Get your heads down, Astartes!” a human male said across the vox. He sounded in considerable pain. “This... is going... to be close.”

Missiles the size of Land Raiders screamed through the air towards them, coming out of the smoke clouds. Explosion after explosion swept across the land. Buildings collapsed, dust and flames flew, two whole Tyranid swarms were reduced to purple smears. The survivors fell back to find more Synapse creatures or whatever those xenos pricks did when they'd fucking lost.

“BASTARD!” Twatsplasher roared. Shockwaves had thrown him over backwards and he had to pull his head out of a Mawlock's arsehole with a loud pop. “IF THERE WERE CIVILIANS IN THOSE BUILDINGS YOU'RE GOING UNDER LIKE NECROMUNDA YOU ANONYMOUS FUCK-GRUBBER!”

“Your gratitude... lightens... my soul,” the human panted. “This city was... abandoned.”

The smoke began to thin. Twatsplasher saw their rescuer.

“DORN'S DICK!” he whispered at 90 decibels.

The smoke drew back to reveal a Warlord Titan, Beetleback-class. Its legs were scratched and acid-scarred. Void shields flared as if the crew were having trouble keeping them up. A multiple rocket launcher mounted on its carapace belched burning gunpowder; the other carapace gun was some kind of giant assault cannon. Its right hand was a power fist painted with black and yellow stripes that seemed dangerously close to traitor colours, and its left was some kind of shitty short-ranged laser thing.

“AT LEAST SOMEONE IN THIS FUCKING DUMP'S GOT THE BALLS TO FIGHT!” said Brother Hammerhead. The other rank-and-file Marines agreed.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” Twatsplasher voxed to the Titan's crew.

“I am... Princeps Abnettius,” the Titan's controller replied. “I regret that I am... mortally wounded... There are survivors making... a last stand. They need... your help.”

“WELL WE'RE NOT HERE TO ENJOY THE FUCKING WEATHER!” roared Twatsplasher. “LEAD THE WAY PRINCEPS PANTSHITTER!”

“I know... something of your... abilities,” Abnettius panted. “I cannot... make it. Perhaps you... could take... my place. My senior crew... have gone to join... the Emperor. I cannot control it... much longer.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED, BITCH!” Twatsplasher said without fear. “OPEN UP, WE'RE FUCKING EMBARKING! TERRIDYNE, DAMMIEL, HAMMERHEAD, WOGAN, I REQUEST THE FUCKING MISERY OF YOUR COMPANY – THE REST OF YOU TESTICULAR POLYPS FOLLOW ON FOOT AND STAY OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY, I'M IN THE MOOD TO STOMP SOME FAGGOTS!”

Abnettius opened a secret hatch in the Warlord's left leg and the Angry Marines ascended. The spiral staircase was narrow and sized for humans; it wobbled dangerously under the combined weight of the five rage-infused bastards clambering up it. The Titan was tall and the Marines had to spend at least two minutes staring at the sculpted bum-cheeks of the Brothers in front until they reached the Warlord's head.

Princeps Abnettius didn't look wounded. He must have suffered some neural feedback shit that nobody understood. He peered vaguely at the Astartes, blinking, unfocused.

“Thank the Emperor...” Abnettius whispered. “You possess the ability... to learn quickly... from others?”

“YOU BET YOUR BLANK-FIRING BOLLOCKS WE DO,” said Twatsplasher, “BUT I DON'T THINK YOU'LL LIKE HOW IT FUCKING WORKS!”

“I care not... just do it... save those people... end the xenos.”

“YOU FUCKING ASKED FOR IT,” Twatsplasher warned. He broke the Princep's head open with a tap of his power-wrench as if it were some kind of egg and ate his brains.

===How To Work a Motherfucking Titan===

It took ten minutes for the Angry Marines to get ready. This involved Twatsplasher's men clambering into the gun positions with much swearing and grunting, then eating the brains of the dead crew they were replacing so they knew how to cover their positions, and reverentially chucking the bodies out of exhaust chutes. A number of lesser crew, human and servitor, remained alive, manning secondary systems. None of them were happy with recent events but followed orders to sit in their chairs and press some fucking buttons or something.

The Angry Marines then did something that would surprise most people: they said a prayer to recognise the Titan crew's heroism. Unfortunately Angry Marine prayers cannot be printed here as they make people go blind. Twatsplasher might be an outright wanker but he was the most pious man in the galaxy and his like may never be seen again (hopefully). “YOU GROT-FONDLING DIPSHITS CAN'T HANDLE THIS LEVEL OF FUCKING PIETY!” the Captain had roared a few years ago as he chased the Chaplains around, whacking them over the head with his self-made prayer book, entitled "KILL ALL XENOS FOR THE EMPRAH".

There was some debate about who should replace Princeps Abnettius. Only Terridyne had sockets for direct neural interface.

“SIR, I'M THE FUCKING TECHMARINE,” he voxed. “I'M THE ONLY ONE CAN COMMAND THE BASTARD THING!”

“WHICH TWAT MADE YOU THE NEW PRIMARCH? MAN THE LAUNCHER YOU WHINGING TOSSER, I CAN HANDLE THIS CRAP!”

“WITH ALL FUCKING RESPECT, THAT'S BOLLOCKS, MY LORD! HOW ARE YOU GONNA GET THIS PIECE OF SHIT MOVING WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN PLUG YOUR ARSE INTO IT FOR FUCK'S SAKE? YOU NEED MORE THAN A FRIGGING JOYSTICK AND SHITTY BREATH TO COMMAND A FUCKING TITAN!!”

“I KNOW WHAT I'M FUCKING DOING YOU BRONIE WANKER!!!!” roared the Captain with superior rage. “YOUR PROTESTS ARE SNOT SHOVELLED INTO MY FUCKING EARS SO SHUT YOUR GROT-LICKING GOB BEFORE I COME OVER THERE AND INTERFACE MY DICK WITH YOUR EYE-SOCKETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!11one”

The Titan's human crew were shocked to hear this exchange. They weren't on the Angry Marine vox-net, they could literally hear the Marines yelling at each each other through hundreds of tons of ceramite. The humans had no idea that the Angry Marines 3rd Company “enjoyed” a brotherhood forged in fire, or that Twatsplasher encouraged “debate” as a middle finger to that Codex Astartes bullshit.

The Captain might not have had neural implants but he did have something: mastery of his absolute fucking RAGE. His emotional control was so good he only spent 97% of the time in a state of frenzy, although if anyone made the mistake of raising this delicate matter, he broke their spines and made them eat their own bollocks, not always in that order. The Captain summoned all the rage his genhanced body could handle, then he summoned some more, and he roared with righteous fury as the rage moulded into a mental spear jabbed straight into the Titan's heart. The god-machine was too terrified to deny such a man and bent instantly to his will.

“THERE'S YOUR ANSWER, BITCH!” Twatsplasher said. “I WASN'T MADE CAPTAIN FOR SUCKING THE FUCKING CHAPTER MASTER!!!!”

The Titan jerked forward then stumbled, and fell sideways, landing on some buildings and knocking them down. Its Angry Marine crew cried out in rage and confusion.

“FEELS LIKE A FUCKING HIPPO'S SITTING ON MY DAMN FACE!” Hammerhead raged. His weapon, the power fist, was the only thing preventing the Titan from completely capsizing.

“TRY NOT TO FUCKING FACEPLANT THE EPIC GOD-MACHINE YOU BLOODY ORK!” said Terridyne. “FRIGGING TOLD YOU I SHOULD BE DRIVING!”

“FUCKING KNOBSACKS!!!” roared the Captain. “THIS IS HARDER THAN MY ADAMANTIUM COCK!”

He concentrated on his rage, held onto it, made it flow, and the Titan clambered back to its feet. It swung around, instinctively knowing which way to go, which was pretty fucking excellent since the Angry Marines didn't. It stomped forwards with a swaying gait as if it had shat its pants. Over the internal vox Twatsplasher addressed his men:

“STAY AWAKE YOU USELESS CUNTS, WE'RE ABOUT TO ENGAGE THE FUCKING FOE! TERRIDYNE, IF THAT MISSILE LAUNCHER ISN'T LOADED BY THE TIME WE SEE PURPLE, THERE WON'T BE A TAPE MEASURE WIDE ENOUGH TO MEASURE YOUR FUCKING RING!

“WOGAN, GET THAT FANNY-FACED WRECKING BALL YOU CALL A HEAD OUT OF TERRIDYNE'S ARSE AND WARM THAT LASER BURNER OR I'LL USE IT TO CUT YOUR BLOODY KNOB OFF!

“HAMMERHEAD, UNTIL WE GET TOE-TO-TOE YOU'RE GOING TO BE AS FUCKING WORTHLESS AS EVER. I WANT THAT POWER FIST READY TO RIP AND TEAR OR I'LL SLAP YOUR MISERABLE FEATURES ROUND THE BACK OF THAT CORN-STUDDED TURD ON TOP OF YOUR NECK!

“DAMMIEL, IF THAT ASSAULT CANNON STOPS FIRING FOR ONE MICROSECOND I'LL DIP YOU IN SHIT AND FIRE YOU FROM THE FRIGGING MISSILE LAUNCHER!!!

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

This might have been the worst pep-talk in history but these weren't mere faggots, they were the fucking ANGRY MARINES, the biggest and meanest bastards in the Emperor's realm.

“ALWAYS ANGRY!” Twatsplasher yelled.

“ALL THE TIME!” replied the men.

The cry was echoed by the remnants of 3rd Company milling around behind them. Twatsplasher couldn't be arsed to learn how the vox worked, and he was broadcasting everything from external speakers. The Titan, whose name they didn't even know (or care about, to be honest), stumbled into the smoke, trailing a wake of yellow-armoured psychos. Vengeance had never looked so terrifying.

===Eat It, Motherfuckers===

The Titan strode across a blasted landscape. Burned out tanks and personnel carriers were strewn around, but there were no bodies of either man or xenos; they'd all been devoured, or dragged back to digestion pools. Speaking of which, the Titan passed dozens of rippling red pools which it cauterised with its laser burner, and kicked over a dozen strange growths that resembled hundred-foot-tall claws. Lightning struck their void shields due to a combination of dust in the atmosphere creating static, and the planet's biosphere being damaged somehow. Twatsplasher ended up ordering his crew to conserve ammo where possible until bigger, slower targets appeared, and let the fucking grunts outside deal with the scattered swarms of hunter-killers they encountered. The little bastards moved too fast for Terridyne and Dammiel to hit – Dammiel had already sent two thousand shells screaming over the horizon, the retarded fuck-cunt, claiming that Twatsplasher's odd way of walking the Titan was throwing off his aim.

Where were the armies, the carpets of Rippers, the Bio-Titans? Didn't the fucking Nids care that the Emperor's most crazed servants had turned up? Twatsplasher might have been the ugliest human being currently deployed on Illis, but he wasn't thick. Either the Nids were up to something, or the human resistance was surrounded. It turned out to be the latter.

Resistance remained in a single location. All human survivors had pulled back behind a mountain range which had been turned into an epic curtain wall. It was ablaze from end to end. Those Tyranid cunts could set fire to fucking rock, it was actually awesome, if you think the achievements of xenos scum have merit. Thousands of PDF troopers, and Guardsmen who had been stranded here by the Shadow in the Warp, still manned gun emplacements built into the wall, blazing away at an enemy even the Titan was not tall enough to see. A door made of solid adamantium was in the centre of the wall; dozens of tank companies assembled behind it, waiting for the xenos to break through, as there was now no chance of them sallying forth – the world was almost lost. This was a last stand, the enemy were at the final gate and the humans were about to get butt-fucked.

“BROTHER-CAPTAIN,” voxed Terridyne, “WE ARE APPOROACHING THE MOTHERFUCKING FRONT LINE!”

“I'M NOT FUCKING BLIND YOU BALD TWAT! TIME TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF EVERY COCKGOBBLER IN RANGE!”

Hundreds of human soldiers turned in shock and fear and, increasingly, in hope, as they heard salvation screaming abuse at them.

“THIS IS CAPTAIN FUCKTIOUS TWATSPLASHER OF THE IMPERIAL ANGRY MARINES! GET OFF THE WALLS, COCKSICKLES, THE FUCKING 3RD COMPANY'S COMING THROUGH!!!”

Soldiers spilled down stairways and roped down walls. A Mechanicus contingent started trying to open the main doors, but doors are for whiteshields: Twatsplasher walked his rage-powered god-machine straight through the mountain as if it wasn't there. Rock, metal, gun emplacements with glowing barrels, all came down around the Titan. Dust ran like water from its flanks. A great cloud of smoke and dust flew up to join the shit already in the atmosphere. And still the Titan kept on going, towards the hordes of alien monsters heading for man's last bastion on this world.

It was fucking hammertime.

*

The Tyranids swarmed in their millions. Little purple fucks milled between the hooves of giant leader-beasts. The sky was full of flying vermin. Those Nids on the ground were led by a Dominatrix, a bio-titan that all other bio-titans tug themselves off about. It walked on four clawed legs, body bowed beneath the weight of a bio-cannon that was nearly as big as a Reaver Titan. The creature had a long neck ending in a head that was all teeth and blade-vanes. It peered into the dust-cloud, trying to see what last threat the humans had sent against it.

A Warlord Titan emerged, right arm raised, power fist displaying a blazing middle finger.

“THEY WILL NOT CON-FUCKING-TROL US, WE WILL BE FUCKING VICTORIOUS!!!” Twatsplasher's atonal bellow came from its speakers. And then:

“THE HOUR IS FUCKING NIGH, XENOS!!!!!”

*

“ACCELERATING TO A FUCKING LUMBER,” the Captain told his crew. “PREPARE TO RAPE FACE YOU WANKERS!”

The Dominatrix reared up and gave vent to a scream that sounded like tearing metal. It began to charge towards them, not even bothering to use its cannon.

“CAPTAIN TWATFACE HAS HIS USUAL EFFECT ON WOMEN!” said Wogan. “HERE SHE FUCKING COMES!”

“FUCKING SHOOT HER THEN!” answered Terridyne. He opened up with the missile launcher. All his shots were turned aside by a field of purple force which flickered around the Dominatrix.

“GET ME CLOSER,” Hammerhead raged. “FUCKING PANSY-ARSED TWATS PISSING AROUND! LET ME GIVE HER THE ASTARTES KISS! I'D LIKE TO SEE HER FUCKING BLOCK THAT!!!”

Dammiel's assault cannon was as loose and wild as a hosepipe dropped by incompetent fire-servitors. Not a single round was on target despite the Dominatrix's ginormous bulk. It was like watching the retarded Godzilla film from 1998.

“BROTHER DAMMIEL,” said Twatsplasher, “YOU MUST BE THE MOST USELESS CUNT SINCE THE ANCIENT SCRIBE C.S. GOTO! WHEN I SAID FIRE THE ASSAULT CANNON, I MEANT AT THE FUCKING NIDS!!!”

“WITH DUE REVERENCE, I CAN'T HIT JACK SHIT WITH YOU WOBBLING LIKE A FUCKING 2ND MILLENNIUM KONG TOY! HOLD THIS BITCH STEADY!”

Twatsplasher growled with the frustration of trying to make thousands of tons of metal and pistons run like a man. Wogan laughed in the exultation of near-death, watching on his scanner screen as the xenos queen came closer. She was going to fucking knock them over. The Titan's gyro-stabilisers were already struggling under the Captain's amateurish efforts, but now they could feel the ground shaking as the Dominatrix stomped towards them. Wogan watched as more missiles sailed into her defensive field. She was virtually in range of the laser burner. Would it do any good?

“IT'S FUCKING CHEATING TO HAVE VOID SHIELDS ON TOP OF ALL THE OTHER SHIT SHE'S GOT,” Hammerhead said without irony. “I'LL RIP HER ANOTHER FANNY!”

“BRACE FOR IMPACT, FUCKTARDS!!!!!” Twatsplasher roared.

Several things happened almost simultaneously. Dammiel finally hit the target, making confetti out of the Tyranid's bio-cannon; the Dominatrix pounced into the Titan's arms like a lost canid returning to its owner, bursting through the Warlord's void shields from sheer thundering bulk; the two lords of destruction fell backwards and began to wrestle; Hammerhead shat his pants from excitement as he repeatedly punched the Nid in its flank; lights went on and off throughout the Titan's structure; human crew members screamed with terror; the Titan's armour screamed also as it began to buckle beneath the Nid queen's weight.

Twatsplasher jerked his head left and right as he tried to avoid the Dominatrix biting the Titan's face off. Wogan finally had something to contribute. He fired up his laser burner and shredded through tons of flesh and chitin. Ropes of intenstines and gallons of acid blood poured out, shorting his weapon's electronics; one of the human crew reported that the weapon was self-cleansing and should be back online in thirty seconds.

Hammerhead gave them the necessary time. He slapped the Nid's face left, then right, then fucking chinned her with a straight punch. One of the Nid's claws closed around the power fist and wrenched it free, casting it away and killing the valiant Astarte with the shock of neural feedback.

Twatsplasher somehow managed to headbutt the distracted Tyranid. She lurched backwards; the Titan was able to sit up through some miraculous act of gymnastic skill, only for the Dominatrix to roar in its face. Her neck snaked backwards; she was going to lunge forward and bite the Titan's head off.

Wogan's laser burner came back online.

“FOR THE FUCKING EMPEROR!”

He swept the weapon across the Tyranid's neck, severing its head. The Dominatrix fell sideways and died with a series of explosive farts.

It was a victory that went beyond stunning: every surviving crew member felt like the luckiest fucker in the galaxy. Yet though the Tyranid swarms reeled for a moment, there must have been a good number of leader-beasts still left, and they closed around the wounded Titan – to be repulsed by thousands of las shots, heavy-calibre gunfire and explosive tank rounds. Twatsplasher tried to turn. The Titan's peripheral sensors picked up hundreds of metallic signatures and thousands of human bio-signs.

Twelve Angry Marines were still alive, riding on top of PDF Chimeras, chucking rocks, grenades and in at least one case, each other at the aliens. A vast crescent of tanks and personnel carriers followed, with waves of human infantry bringing up the rear on foot.

“READY TO FINALLY FUCKING HIT SOMETHING, TOSSERS?” Twatsplasher yelled at his crew.

“FUCK YEAH SIR!” replied Terridyne and Dammiel. They opened up. Dammiel brought down clusters of Gargoyles and other flying fucks. Terridyne's remaining missiles blew holes in the Tyranid swarm. It was too much even for the homicidal xenos shit-eaters. They turned and ran, but the Emperor's mercy is great, and every last critter was put out of its misery.

“NOW THAT IS HOW THE FUCK YOU STOP A HIVE-FLEET,” said Twatsplasher before neural damage from the titan's damaged systems finally killed him.

*

“WHERE THE FUCK'S CAPTAIN TWAT-KNUCKLE?” said Brother-Captain Wankel.

The surviving members of 3rd Company stood to attention. They were all torn, battered, filth-covered, but stood proudly before the 2nd Company's commander.

“SIR, HE'S FUCKING DEAD, SIR!” said Terridyne. “ALONG WITH MOST OF THE OTHER FUCKING SODS!”

“HOW FUCKING UNFORTUNATE!” Wankel said with as much empathy as any Angry Marine can be arsed to have. “GET YOUR FUCKING ARMOUR FIXED, ABADDON'S AT IT AGAIN, THE GERIATRIC, DRIED-UP, SMELLS-LIKE-OLD-MILK PUSSY! WE SHIP OUT IN SIX POINT THREE MINUTES!”

3rd Company ran headlong for the artificers, wondering how long point three of a minute was.

“Please, sir,” the Planetary Governor begged, “I have learned the error of my weakness. Release me?”

“FIFTEEN MORE MINUTES, BITCH!!”

Governor Mellitus wept. Wankel's boot was pretty far up his arse and had been for the last half an hour.

Wankel surveyed the devastation around them. Weeping civilians were thanking Angry Marines and human soldiers; Mechanicus recovery vehicles were hoisting burned-out tanks; shell-shocked Munitorium adepts were wandering round, wondering how the fuck they were going to organise this lot. Piles of Tyranid bodies were being burned. Alongside them were equally-sized piles of Millennial faggots, mostly still alive, each of them with their underpants pulled over their heads.

“LIGHT THE FIRES, COCKSUCKERS,” Wankel said to the Inquisitors who'd been called to root out all traces of Millennial Falcon heresy. “I WANT TO SMELL ROAST HEATHEN!!!”

*

And that's how the Angry Marines conduct a fucking campaign. I, Addius Letch, have been your scribe; now fuck off because all this righteousness is giving me a hard-on.

+++++++

Thought for the day: Thought begets heresy. Heresy begets the fucking Angry Marines.

+++++++

==The Tale of Shitfucker the Mildly Disgruntled==

Shitfucker the Mildly Disgruntled was not a happy man. Of course, he was an angry marine so he was never actually happy but he was angrier than ever right at that moment. “WHY WON’T THIS MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF GUILLIMAN ASS WORSHIPING CUNT-TRASH FUCKING WORK!!!?” he pondered quietly to himself. This was because the angry marines were rapidly approaching the [[dakka]] limit. They were at the point where they physically couldn’t strap more weapons onto other weapons anymore, despite their general attitude that “PHYSICS IS FOR THOSE [[Mechanicus|TOASTER FUCKERS]]”. This was giving the [[techmarines]], especially Master of the Armoury Mightelypissedoff the Third, quite the headache as they were under increasing pressure from the other angry marines to “FIX A FUCKING FLAMER TO IT YOU CUNT WAZZOCK”. This had resulted in an increased number going to the apothecaries complaining of the illness commonly called “REPEATED BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE BALLS WITH A FUCKING SPANNER”. In order to try and remedy this, Shitfucker started work on a secret project. For years he slaved away in complete silence (silence, that is, for an angry marine. Anyone else would have heard something along the lines of “WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT SCREW GO!!!!? IF SWEAR TO THE [[Emperor of Mankind|BIG FUCKER ON A GOLDEN CHAIR]] THAT IF ONE OF THOSE [[Chaos Gods|NAMBY-PAMBY GHOST BITCHES]] TOOK IT I’LL COME INTO THE WARP MYSELF AND SEE HOW THEY LIKE HAVING A TITAN’S POWER FOOT SHOVED UP THEIR ASS!!!” As with most things, angry marines have a warped sense of volume).
After a millennia, and many test subjects being told “BUCKLE UP CHUCKLE-FUCKS”, his work was done. Shitfucker emerged from his workshop and made his way towards where the chapter master lived. Of course, being stuck in a workshop for a thousand years, many of the newer angry marines didn’t recognise him and so he responded to the many calls of “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU YOU BALD HEADED CUNT!!!?” with a level and reasoned explanation “AND THE REPEATED INTRODUCTION OF THEIR FACE TO MY RIGHT FOOT AND THEN MY LEFT FOOT”. Barging into the command room (A very polite and reverential entrance for an angry marine), Shitfucker held up a power bat. It turned out that Shitfucker had added so much dakka that he had gone right past infinity and ended up with a melee weapon. Temperus Maximus, chapter master of the angry marines and probably the angriest cunt alive or dead, was so impressed that he picked it up and then smashed Shitfucker over the head with it “BECAUSE THE COCKGOBBLING LITTLE GIT INTERRUPTED THE DAILY MY LITTLE PONY VIEWING SESSION”. This blow shattered Shitfucker’s helmet which revealed the terrible cost that developing this weapon had wrought upon him. For when you experiment with dakka, dakka also experiments with you. Shitfucker had become an [[ork]]. The first marine to point this out then proceeded to find out that tens of meters of adamantium and void shielding do little to stop oneself when thrown towards a wall at a significant fraction of the speed of light by a very angry fucker. It was then decided that Shitfucker was indeed angry enough that his minor issue of becoming a xenos could be ignored. Ever since, Shitfucker the Mildly Disgruntled has been absolutely bloody livid alongside the rest of the chapter and all marines have been forbidden to break his denial of the fact that he is an ork “ON PAIN OF FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A POWER CHAIR IS INSERTED INTO THE CRANIAL CAVITY THROUGH THE FACE”.

+++++++

Thought for the day: Most problems can be solved with reason, logic, and the repetitive application of hard objects into soft body parts

+++++++

==The Angry Marine Hall of Awesome Deaths/THE FUCKAWESOME WALL OF DEATH!!!==

During the mid to late 30th millennium it was felt by the Angry Marines that there should be a special way to commemorate their most awesome dead. Angry Marine’s already commemorated their dead via any number of ways, anything from getting blind drunk, to inscribing the fallen’s name on the testicles of a chaos space marine, to something really insane like simply spending five minutes of time they could be using to punch something to instead contemplate the achievements of the dead marine.

But after millennia of Angry Marines finding the most spectacular of ways to die (usually taking their foes with them) it was decided to set aside an entire corridor (admittedly a ten metre high and hundreds of metres long) whereupon the name, means of death and last words of the mostly awesomely fallen marines would be graffitied upon. The list below however, is incomplete as there are still historic deaths yet to be commemorated with yellow spray paint, deaths so ancient that only the silencers know of their occurrence. This fact further complicates the updating of THE FUCKAWESOME WALL OF DEATH!!! as no angry marine can bear sitting down with a silencer to unearth such mysteries.

'''Battle Brother Fuck Sore'''

Died from organ failure brought on by radiation poisoning from using a lump of plutonium on the end of a 2x4 to beat Eldar to death.

Last words: “LOOK, I’VE GROWN ANOTHER FUCKING ARM TO BEAT SHIT WITH!!!”

'''Battle Brother Wang Cheese'''

Died from drinking the blood of a Hive Tyrant after ripping its throat open.

Last words: Unknown, as the acidic blood had destroyed his voice box before he could say anything.

'''Battle Brothers Twice Shat On and Wife Beater Beater'''

Died simultaneously during a pizza eating competition when their stomachs erupted from being filled with a tonne or so of compacted pizza.

Last Words (Wife Beater Beater): “EAT PIZZA AND DIE, MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

'''Servitor D277-89 (SHIT CLEANER)'''

Died from infections brought on by using its internal machinery to compact collected waste to fire at a boarding party of Chaos Space Marines.

Last Words (translated from binary): “Who cleaneth up the shit now?!”

'''Private Guant Bait'''

Died from wounds sustained fighting of ten Bloodletters using only a lasgun and bayonet.

Last Words: “AFFIX BAYONETS, BITCHES!”

'''Battle Brother Cunt Brained'''

Died from wounds inflicted by a Tau plasma rifle. Cunt Brained ran a mile under constant plasma fire by the Tau wielding the weapon to then beat the xeno over the head with said weapon.

Last words: “WHERE’S THAT COVER-CAMPING TWAT?!!! I’ll SHOVE HIS GUN UP HIS FUCKING ARSE!!!”

'''Captain World Defiler'''

Died while doing the chainsword swallowing trick (upon death he had three down his throat). His death occurred when he could not suppress a sneeze, resulting in the complete mulching of his insides.

Last Words: “I BET YOU I CAN SWALLOW SIX OF THE FUCKING THINGS!!!”

'''Techmarine Binary Bitch'''

Died while experimenting how much dakka a Marine could use at once. He had managed to rig up a suit of Terminator armour with:
*Four Storm Bolters (two on each arm).
*Two Assault Cannons (one on each arm).
*Six Flamers (two on each leg and two on his back).
*Two missile racks (as opposed to the usual one).
*One Hurricane Bolter (chest mounted).
Unfortunately for Binary Bitch, he did not take into account the immense amount of recoil all the guns would produce, and while the Terminator armour's structural integrity was sufficient to hold all the guns in place (admittedly only after locking up the joints) the recoil was enough to pulp the Marine after a minute. It was concluded by the other Techmarines however that, with better armour, that a single Marine could carry twice as much dakka.

Last Words: Unheard of the noise of all the dakka and awesome, but it was agreed by all that they must have been some spectacular last words.

'''Black Brother Captain Turds of Fury'''

Died from having a bucket of water thrown at him. Although physically unharmed it is believed that Black Brothers eventually consider themselves constantly on fire, making water psychologically lethal to them.

Last Words: “I’M MELTING!!! I’M FUCKING MELTING!!!”

'''Battle Brother Ballknocker'''

Died while surfing a Landspeeder down a mountain whilst beating the shit out of an Ork Waaagh! that was advancing onto said mountain. He cut through all the Orks, until in a singularly glorious act of defiance, he yanked his power foot off, and flung it at the Warboss' truck. The resulting explosion knocked Ballknocker off a cliff, and moments before he died he had taken a Nob by the horn and crammed a bolt pistol down his throat.

Last Words: "EAT BOLTGUN YOU FAGGY EXCUSE FOR A BITCH!!!"

'''Seargent Shit Bucket'''

Died from jumping out of the battle barge MAXIMIUM FUCK while in orbit to smash into a Greater Daemon of Khorne, who was refusing to die until someone came down to the planet's surface to fight it.

Last Words: Nothing, as Shit Bucket was a Terminator Captain and thus never spoke while he was alive.

'''Commissar Pleb Organiser'''

Died from executing a heretical psyker with her bolt pistol. Upon death the psyker opened up a warp rift which allowed a Keeper of Secrets to enter reality. Pleb Organiser then executed the Greater Daemon while it was still transitioning, but died from multiple orgasms.

Last Words: Incoherent pleased noises and gunshots.

'''Battle Brother Knife Ears Shitter'''

Died trying to enter into single combat with a Necron Lord with only a chainsword. Despite being desperately outmatched Knife Ears Shitter survived five minutes of combat before having his atoms wrought asunder, just enough time for an Angry Marine launcher to get into position and start pounding the Necron Lord with pissed off Battle Brothers.

Last Words: “THE BASTARD’S STILL USING 7TH EDITION RULES!!! I’M IN WITH A FUCKING CHANCE!!!”

'''Battle Brother Mister Dakka Man'''

Died after using all of his Angrytalon Gunship’s ammunition fighting Fighta Bommas and deciding to use his craft to ram the remaining other planes.

Last Words: “DAKKADAKKADAKKA, MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

'''Apothecary “YOUR NOT DYING ON MY FUCKING WATCH!!!'''

Died bringing a Dreadnought back to life. Upon bringing it back to life the Apothecary was immediately punched on reflex by the Dreadnought, upon which the Apothecary shot the Dreadnought to death, also on reflex. Unfortunately for FUCKING WATCH, he had been trained mercilessly to revive his Battle Brothers, so brought the Dreadnought back to life, to only get punched and then shoot the Dreadnought. This continued until the poor Apothecary was pulped to death by the Dreadnought's claw.

Last words: “THIS HURTS ME MORE THAN IT FUCKING HURTS YOU!!! (BLAM)”

= List of Things the Angry Marines Hate With a Passion =
<center>[[Image:Angry_Marine_Desktop.jpg|800px]]</center>

There are very few things that the Angry Marines actually like. There's the [[Emprah]], of course, along with [[cats]], Honey Badgers (when said badgers aren’t biting their balls off) and possibly skittles. Angry Marines are also said to have a predilection for energy drinks, pizza and most anything resembling a [[choppa|cudgel]]. They hate the [[Iron Hands]] slightly less due to their intense self-hate and anger.

However, while the Angry Marines may hate pretty much everything else, there are also those things that will cause any regular Angry Marine to fly into an unfathomable berserker rage in mere seconds:

*[[Abaddon]] - He's a plot-armoured wanker who simply won't fuck off.

*The [[Eldar]]/[[Dark Eldar]]/[[Elf|Anything related to elves]] - The regular spehss elves are stuck up, plot fucking faggots, the drug-addled spehss elfs are dickish, literal plot fucking faggots, and elves in general are just prissy, plot fucking faggots. Ergo, FUCK THOSE CUNTS!!!

*The [[Tau]] - Weeaboo cock suckers who “JUST KEEP FUCKING RUNNING AWAY FROM MELEE THE FUCKING PUSSIES!!! THAT AND THEY HAVE VAGINAS FOR FOREHEADS!!!

*The [[Ultramarines]] - They hate the Ultramarines for being a bunch of pompous douchebags / Mary Sues (may also hate the colour blue, which makes sense since blue is said to be a calming color and this is the "Angry Marines" we're talking about).

*[[Pretty Marines]]/[[Chaos Pretty Marines]] - They're a chapter of faggots and the ones who defected to Chaos makes them DOUBLE FAGGOTS!!!

*[[Emperor's Children]] - They're a chapter of faggots who defected to Chaos and still bear the name of the Emprah. TRIPLE FAGGOTS!!!

*[[Furries]] - Daemonspawn of Slaanesh.

*[[necron]] - BECAUSE IF I FUCKING TEAR YOU INTO PIECES YOU CAN'T JUST STAND UP AGAIN!!!!
STAY DEAD, DICKSUCKING SHITFUCKIGN XENO!!!

*Anything [[Slaanesh|Slaaneshi]] - Slaanesh is the God of all that is faggotry in the Warhammer 40,000 universe.

*[[Chaos]] as a whole - CHAOS IS FAKE AND GAY, GET OUT, STOP TALKING, FUCK. YOU.

*Going to the planets [[Fenris]] and [[Valhalla]], for no other reason than THEY'RE FUCKING COLD. SON OF A BITCH.

*[[Avatar]] - Two and a half hours of furfaggotry in 3D is still two and a half hours of furfaggotry. Besides, furries are Slaaneshi, and Slaanesh is HERESY!

*All the Highlander sequels

*Battletoads - The original game that the Angry Marines Primarch had with him inside his stasis capsule. Is still unbeaten to this day.

*[[EA]] - for being faggoty ass dick suckers that also suck the life out of other games developers.

*[[Matthew Ward]] - Self-explanatory.

*[[Grey Knights]]- A bunch of fucking Mary Sues who think they know what REAL hatred of daemons is.

*[[Reddit]] - Have the nerve to steal all the good memes from 4chan, make them as unfunny as possible, and then shit them all over the rest of the Internet claiming they came up with them in the first place. They're also EMPRAH-DAMNED EVERYWHERE, THE RETARDED FUCKS.

*[[World Eaters]] - What they try to pass off as 'anger' is really just male insecurity in the extreme.

*[[Primarch|Traitor primarchs]] - CHAOS FAGGOTS like the daemon primarchs who hide from the ANGRY MARINES in the Warp and won't even show up to get their testicles kicked up between their ears are the worst kind of pansy-ass CHAOSFAGGOTS.

*[[Thousand Sons]] - They are CHAOS WORSHIPPERS, worship Tzeentch and THEY ARE FUCKING PSYKERS (which are basically faggots with greater range (but the emprah is a psyker... could it be that you are calling the emperor a long range faggot? well... ARE YOU?!?! I'LL KICK SO HARD IN THE ASS, THAT YOU WILL ORBIT THE SUN IN A FRACTION OF A SECOND. YOU PUSSY ASS CHAOS WORSHIPING FAGGOT). That makes them TRIPLE FAGGOTS,too.

*Bad grammar, because IF YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING SCREAM YOU CAN FUCKING DO IT RIGHT (WHERE IS YOUR PUNCTUATION, YOU ANAL BITING, DONKEY RAPING FUCK-TARD? THERE SHOULD BE A FUCKING COMMA HERE INSTEAD OF THIS INTERJECTION, YOU HYPOCRITICAL ASS!) YOU BASTARD!!!

*Smuckers Uncrustables - You spend twenty years on a voidship, the Skittles ran out seventeen years ago, and all you have is Uncrustables AND I GUARAN-GODDAMN-TEE THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO RAPE YOURSELF WITH A BAND SAW TOO, YOU NURGLE HUMPING FAG!

* Facebook - if it isn't immediately obvious why, then they fucking hate you too. No Angry Marine ever needs to know how many minutes it is until your shuttle reaches St Sebastian's world.

*[[Age of Sigmar]] - Because why play as a single cohesive army when you can have it split up into five different mini-factions with no synergy? A never-ending way to recharge your fucking RAGE.

* The finale of Star Trek Enterprise - Captain Archer made some pretty fucking excellent speeches at times, but the grandest, the greatest, the ultimate... well, in the words of Captain Fucktious Twatsplasher, "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE ENDING YOU RETARDED, INBRED, STINKING, BRAINLESS, SOULLESS, DICK-GARGLING PAIR OF FUCKING FAGLORDS?!!!!!!" Many scribes died that day.

+++++++ 

Thought for the day: If something is worth doing, it's worth overdoing!

+++++++

= Things the Angry Marines wish for =

There are some things the Angry Marines desire to happen, and if they did, it would make them slightly less angry, but nowhere nearly enough to make them less destructive. These include:

* A good [[Warhammer Fantasy]] RTS that approaches Dawn of War's quality <s>(heads up, the guys behind Total War are apparently heading up something that looks promising)</s> FUCK THAT! THOSE INEPT COCKSUCKING DICKWITS AT SEGA WENT AND MADE CHAOS A FUCKING DLC PREORDER BONUS! NOT THAT ANYBODY'S DUMB ENOUGH TO PLAY CHAOS, IT JUST SETS A POOR CUNTING PRECEDENT {{Blam|That is heretical nonsense, only Chaos worshippers like that nonsense}}

* A [[Doom]] movie made in the style of the doom comic, preferably with Bruce Campbell as the Doom Marine (Groovy!)

*[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjIVkl34Vig song dedicated to Honorary Angry Marine, Doom Guy]

* <s>Better endings for Mass Effect 3, preferably restoring Drew Karpyshyn's original Dark Energy ending</s>. The Extended Ending made them a bit less angry, then the skubstorm known as Mass Effect: Andromeda made them angrier than ever, cancelling this out.

* A good [[Dungeons and Dragons]] movie

* All loyalists, especially them, being upgraded Power Fists to Chainfists for free.

* [[Samus]], she who ruins worlds every time of month (or every time Space pirates show up, Emperor help the Piratical Xeno who meets her during her time of the month) is an inspiration to Angry marines everywhere.

* Warhammer, both versions, story actually going somewhere and not being stuck in status quo. [[The End Times]] is good progress on that...until [[Rocks fall, everyone dies|the Chaos Gods raped the world]] and then [[Age of Sigmar]] happened. At least 40k managed well [[Great Rift|on that]], but then, [[Primaris Space Marines|numarines]]...

* A Warhammer 40K space shooter flight sim game. This kinda happened with Aeronautica Imperialis: Flight Command and may happen with Dakka Squadron depending on how it is made.

* Being a canon chapter.
**Although they’ll accept a printed copy of their codex, scrolling through rules mid battle on your phone make the Angry Marines very Angry.

* Having [[Anime|cabbits]] as pets, and the cabbits knowing how to turn into battle barges.

* To beat the shit out of all Squat and non-Squat players

* The executives at [[Games Workshop]]'s heads all mounted on sticks

* Neither of these, actually. BECAUSE ANGRY MARINES ARE NOT YOUR PERSONAL CHAPTER, FAGGOT!

*The head of anyone who’s a dick for no good reason, as being a dick for no good reason is tzeentch worship and therefore HERESEY!!!
**Although overly Angry and aggressive, the Angry Marines would actually be a beacon of hope for the Imperium as they actually give a shit about people (not using people for target practice or guardsmen as human shields), which means that (ironically) they’re one of the least grimdark parts of 40k.
*Matt Ward to retire and never return. BECAUSE THAT GUY IS GARBAGE, PITSNIFFERS!!

*Yet more Space Marine models of all kinds to be released at the expense of other factions, aka BUSINESS AS FUCKING USUAL, TOSSERS!

*A 40k VR game that let's you punch Xeno pussies in the face IN 3D!
**This one might in the works in Battle Sister, an Oculus game controlling the furious Bolter Bitches. The quality of the final product is unknown

=The Angry Marine Lexicon=
On the surface of things, Angry Marine speech and language may seem incredibly simple, containing a large number of (and sometimes containing nothing but) curse words. However, this superficiality can hide (sometimes that is, other times they may literally just be saying FUCK!!!") a deeper meaning and subtly almost paradoxical to their brute appearance.

==Grammar and Punctuation==
*CAPS LOCK: Used to define rank with Angry Marine “society” as a whole. In general, Serfs and the like will speak in lower case, with the exceptions being commissars and tech priests when they become very pissed off because something very expensive and rare has been broken, while normal Angry Marines and up will ALWAYS (AND I MEAN FUCKING ALWAYS) speak in caps lock, even in the presence of a Silencer.

*Exclamation marks (!): The only real punctuation the Angry Marines use, Serfs and the like will usually use none or one, while your standard marine will always use at least one, usually three. From there, the number of additional exclamation marks increases with the amount of rage, with the usual jump being from 3 to 6/7. Beyond that however the exclamation marks blurr into a continuous stream of punctuation, and such use is only really used in war cry’s and in sentences where all the words have blurred into one.

*Comma (,): A rarely used piece of punctuation, as pausing while speaking when you could instead just vomit up your speech like a pyrovore vomits acidic flames is frowned upon.

==Words==
*'''Fuck (Noun, Verb, Adjective, Adverb, Pronoun, Preposition, Conjunctive, Determination, Exclamation):'''
:The most commonly used word in the Angry Marines possession, in someways it defines their very existence and purpose in the galaxy, and for such an important word it has a suitably large array of meanings and uses. It is also the only word which the Angry Marines draw out to express different meanings (exclamations will not be shown here but are an integral part to the word fuck):
:*'''FUCK (by itself):'''
::A general expletive and most commonly used form of the word fuck, can be used in any number of contexts, for example, an Angry Marine walks into the canteen and sees that there is no pizza left, he might shout FUCK as a general sign of annoyance. On the flip side, one Angry Marine might say to another "THE WEATHER IS FUCKING LOVELY TODAY ISN'T IT?" and the other might reply "FUCK" in general agreement. As such, it is always important to pay attention to the context in which a single and lone "FUCK" is uttered, especially as lone angry marines may just shout fuck at random, just so that they don't get bored.
::*In addition, it is important to note that an Angry Marines rank will also determine (to a certain extent) the context of a fuck, as higher ranking angry marines (ie. angrier angry marines) are more likely to use the word fuck in a more aggressive manner.
:*'''FUCK (with other words):'''
::Simplifies the matter of understanding whether a fuck is uttered in a positive, negative or passive manner, for example, "YOU FUCKING IDIOT" is a general sign of annoyance, while "FUCK MAXIMUS IS COMING" is a sign of respect and a warning to others.
:*'''Fuuuuuuuuuuck:'''
::An angrier fuck, generally used by itself as a general expletive but still short enough to be uttered quickly.
:*'''FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCK:'''
::An even angrier fuck, defined by the addition of extra c's, making it much longer to say compared to just adding extra u's and therefore a much angrier expletive.
:*'''FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCK:'''
::The addition of additional FFFFFF's is a sign that the speaker has gone from simply furious to downright livid, especially as the marine in question may decide mid speaking to upgrade his FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCK to a FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUU...
:*'''FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUU...:'''
::Generally uttered at the beginning, middle and end of a charge, and is a general sign that your ass is about to be handed to you, in a million pieces. An expression of purest hatred and fury, non angry marines should preferably be in another sector when they hear this noise, and the angry marine making the noise will only stop screaming (like the word wargh, no self respecting angry marine would ever just speak FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUU...) once his rage or the object of his rage has been vented/dealt with.

*'''Bitch:'''
::A lighter swear word used at low anger levels, and is used as a greeting in polite conversation, for example, an angry marine might politely announce the arrival of another angry marines they like with the phrase “NOT THIS BITCH AGAIN”.

*'''Cunt/Dick (Noun, Verb, Adjective, Adverb, Pronoun, Preposition, Conjunctive, Determination, Exclamation):'''
::An insult which refers to the general groin/genital region of a being anatomy, and therefore a prime target for a kick. It can however be used as a general directive, for example, "GO FUCKING PUNCH THAT CUNT" could be used as a direction to inflict grievous bodily harm via a strike to their genital region, but it's usually used as a general attack order with the additional implication that the target is also, say, an Ultramarine.

*'''Ultracunt, blueberry, ultrasmurf etc:'''
::A general derogatory word for ultramarine/s, all of which imply that the ultramarines are inferior in some/all ways. Most words/phrase can be made this way by simply adding “ultra” to the beginning of them, as long as said word is neutral or derogatory.

*'''Shit, crap, bullshit:'''
:A derogatory word for waste matter, used prolifically (the word, not the waste matter) to imply that a situation or person is somewhat lacking or disappointing, for example “THIS PINT TASTES LIKE SHIT!!!”

*'''Weeaboo, Weeb:'''
:Specifically refers to the Tau (or any being belonging to the T'au Empire), also generally used to describe someone who uses Tau tactics (e.g, not charging at the enemy).

*'''[[That Guy]]:'''
::A general cunt etc, but refers more so to the person in question being a terrible person, while a cunt isn't necessarily a terrible person.

*'''Toaster:'''
:A derogatory word for a machine or those who maintain them, in the latter example is is usually followed by the word fucker as well for added implication.

*'''[[Neckbeard]]:'''
:Not a commonly used insult in the 42nd millennium, but generally refers to the poor grooming habits/troglodyte nature of/absent social skills of something.

*'''Wardian prick, cunt, bastard etc:'''
:A normal insult, but with the prefix of “wardian” etc, which magnifies the insults effect by invoking the [[Matt Ward|name of the foulest being in the galaxy.]]

==Angry Marine Name Generator==
Like all humans, Angry Marines have a birth name given by their parents. But usually these babies are fucking annoying and have to be disposed of. Angry Marines maintain Chapels of the Emperor in his Aspect as the Self-Righteous Customer Served Dry Steak just for these kinds of babies. Usually the children have card identifying the reason the child was discarded like the FUCKING TRASH THEY ARE, but they rarely give better descriptions than "Little Shitfuck," "Lazy Ass Bastard Shits His Pants," "Worthless Quadruple Malt Distilled Shitwater." While these may seem like great names, when children are chosen to join the Chapter they get new names to symbolize their new life and because not all of them can be called "Fucking Lazy Ass Won't Clean His Room!

After years of learning how to speak Angry, many Initiates choose their own name, other times they have names gifted to them by senior marines, and sometimes everyone is just too angry to be bothered. In those cases this rubric is used to determine their name using 2d6 for first and last. An optional middle name is 1d6.

{| class="wikitable"
! First Name !! !! Middle Name !! !! Surname !!
|-
! 11
| Chunk || 1 || Leslie || 11 || McFuck
|-
! 12
| Slab || 2 || Courtney || 12 || Asscrush
|-
! 13
| Rip || 3 || Ashley || 13 || Breakface
|-
! 14
| Crunch || 4 || Stacey || 14 || Von Dicksmash
|-
! 15
| Bolt || 5 || Jordan || 15 || De Lividius
|-
! 16
| Io || 6 || || 16 || Fleming
|-
! 21
| Hack || || || 21 || McShitstain
|-
! 22
| Stabby || || || 22 || Stomachabundus
|-
! 23
| Smash || || || 23 || O'CAPSLOCK
|-
! 24
| Blast || || || 24 || Kawacocktwist
|-
! 25
| Buff || || || 25 || Fuckworth
|-
! 26
| Punch || || || 26 || Zhāng Sān Lǐ Sì
|-
! 31
| Lance || || || 31 || Smith
|-
! 32
| Billegerient || || || 32 || dàn téng
|-
! 33
| Iratus || || || 33 || commotus
|-
! 34
| Dementer || || || 34 || Faire le Con
|-
! 35
| Furiouse || || || 35 || Groinslap
|-
! 36
| Enojado || || || 36 || Cornhole
|-
! 41
| Aplastar || || || 41 || Cuntbridge-Stewart
|-
! 42
| Crujido || || || 42 || Une Civil
|-
! 43
| Overcooked || || || 43 || DeMierda
|-
! 44
| Kuharibu || || || 44 || Enfoiré
|-
! 45
| Ikaanguka || || || 45 || GifleSalope
|-
! 46
| Wreck || || || 46 || Herpeslip
|-
! 51
| Stumpy || || || 51 || Snarlington
|-
! 52
| Facebreak || || || 52 || ConBust'em
|-
! 53
| Havoc || || || 53 || Shitonashitsammich
|-
! 54
| Torpedo || || || 54 || Grocerybill
|-
! 55
| Lick || || || 55 || Roommate
|-
! 56
| Froth || || || 56 || Houserepair
|-
! 61
| Tetchy || || || 61 || incuntvenience
|-
! 62
| Inflamed || || || 62 || Ballslappinstien-Snatch
|-
! 63
| Shitsnacks || || || 63 || Chupa-Tumadre
|-
! 64
| Damn || || || 64 || Von Poopants
|-
! 65
| Fucksnacks || || || 65 || Brokenface
|-
! 66
| Dave || || || 66 || Ward
|}

= See Also/Notable Angry Marine personnel =
*[[Commissar Fuklaw]]
*[[Badasious|Inquisitor Badasious]]
*[[Angry Marine-Bomb]]
*Sergeant El'Jackson
*[[Temperus Maximus|Chapter Master Temperus Maximus]]
*[[Belligerent Engine]]
*[[Captain Titus]], an honorary Angry Marine in spite of being an [[Ultramarines|Ultrasmurf]]
*[[Mephiston]], also honorary, so angry he's calm
*[[Gabriel Seth]], DOUBLE honorary because that angry bastard is a crazy ball-busting killer
*[[Avitus]]
*The Hulk, he's always angry!
*[[Doom|the doom slayer]] (who might be there real primarch)
*[[Tyberos the Red Wake]] that mad man is TRIPLE honorary because he is so angry he makes no sound and is a master of [[rip and tear]].
*Dirty Harry
*[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67082yuPZ9o Angry Joe] Leads his own division of Angry Marines known as the Angry Army.
*[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1tU61Nyv1w The Angry Video Game Nerd], a typical Angry Marine Techmarine
*[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq7Vj3GMd1M&list=FLwvNufI5OJpxjH7BPfV0m_w Common Angry Marine marching cadence]
*[[Khador| Orsus Zoktavir]]
*[[Transformers|Grimlock]], his [[Rage]] is more powerful than programming built into him meant to restrain him. Also, he's a robot dinosaur.
*Lucky The Foul Xenos Cat
*Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, rumor has it he is Commissar Fuklaw's brother (or an ancestor, even though the late Sgt R. Lee Ermey, who played Hartmann, considered Hartmann a failure of a sergeant)
*[[Codex - Angry Custodes]]
*Head serf Chef Gordon Ramsey, the only man angry enough to cook for the Angry Marines, although they consider him to be a pansy.
*Malcolm Tucker, Administratum liaison to the Angry Marines, the only one deranged enough to treat with them. They even speak the same language.
* korland slaughter Maximus thane and the last wall during the war of the beast because oh because they where action heroes especially those two
*logan grammar and the space wolves for Armageddon
* roboute gulliman and Dante plus the god or emperor of man kind and other loyalest primarchs beacuse we don,t want to get in trouble plus eccecarchs umburto II and sabaston Thor such legends
* helbracts and the black templers brothers .

= Gallery =

<center><gallery>
File:EWW XENOS.jpeg|EWW XENOS
[[File:Temperus Maximus.png]]
Image:Angrymarines8.jpg|DO. NOT. PISS. OFF.(Even if they are piss-coloured)
Image:Angry_7.jpg|The [[Dreadnought|Dreadnoughts]] of the Angry Marines are known better within the chapter as the [[Belligerent Engine|Belligerent Engines]]
Image:Original angry marines.jpg|In 1st Edition, [[beakie|ALL Marines]] were Angry Marines.
Image:Angrymarines tzeentch.jpg|The Angry Marines fuck up [[Tzeentch]]'s shit.
Image:Angry Marine Smackdown.jpg|Angry Marines vs [[Kharn]].
Image:angrynerdrage.png|fffuuu--
File:BelligerentEngines.jpg|WHERE'S YOUR GOD NOW YOU CHAOS FAGGOTS?
File:Brother Ripfist.png|FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC, BUT MAGIC IS [[HERESY]]!
Image:Angry_marine_with_flag.jpg|Huh? Huh? WHERE?
Image:Angrymarines7.jpg|FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-
Image:IMPATIENTMARINES.jpg|There is NOTHING more badass than a pissed-off Angry Marine.
Image:Angrymotivator.jpg|Always angry, all the time.
Image:KILLITWITHFIREYOUFUCKS.jpg|Not shown offscreen: pack of furries being sent straight to Hell.
Image:1218823369945.jpg|You'll be so angry Chaos will be all like "slooooooow dooooooown", and you'll be like "FUCK YOU" and kick Chaos in the face with your POWER FEET!
Image:FUCKINGANGRY.jpg|RAAAAAAAGEEE!
Image:ANGRY_TITAN.jpg|YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT WE'VE GOT A [[Legio Ruina|TITAN LEGION]].
Image:ANGRY-LCB.jpg|Angry Marine haet LCB.
Image:ANGRY_MINI.jpg|ANGRY TABLETOP ASSKICKING TIME.
Image:ANGRY-TAU.jpg|Angry Marine haet Tau.
Image:AM_WHAT.png|I'M CONFUSED. CONFUSION MAKES ME ANGRY!
Image:Sisters_of_anger2.png|Yeah. It's a [[Female Space Marines|fucked-up Rule 63 version]].
Image:AngryMarine9.jpg|Masters of improvised weaponry.
Image:AngryMarine10.jpg|The core thought process of an Angry Marine depicted through the ANGRY METER.
Image:Chapter Master Leonidas.jpg|The Angry Marines are more badass than the guys in 300. Why? Because those guys LOST.
Image:AngryMarineModels.jpg|DID YOU [[THIN YOUR PAINTS]]? YOU BETTER HAVE THINNED YOUR GODDAMN PAINTS.
Image:AM_WHATMUTHERFUCKER.png|NOW I'M FUCKING PISSED OFF!
Image:Predator_angrinator.PNG|The dreaded Predator ''Angrinator''.
Image:Angry_n_cultist1.jpg|Cultist-chan versus the Angry Marine - Part1
Image:Angry_n_cultist2.jpg|Cultist-chan versus the Angry Marine - Part2
Image:Angry_n_cultist3.jpg|Cultist-chan versus the Angry Marine - Part3
Image:Hell_Yeah_by_Gannadene.jpg|And THIS is how you take out a fat slobbering cunt like Nurgle!
Image:Angry_dread.jpg|Gah, they just won't stay dead!
File:1289451061673.jpg|FUCK YEA!
Image:Lolcron3.jpg|They hate playing against Necrons.
Image:AMLMkIV.jpg|FOR THE EMPRA'!
File:Dan_angry.jpg|Well it COULD be gayer...
Image:Angry_2.png
Image:Angry_FOK.png
Image:Angry_gets_shit_done.jpg|[[/tg/ gets shit done]]
Image:Angry_5.png
Image:Angry_Dreadnaught.jpg|FFFFFFFFFF- WHO THE FUCK UPLOADED THIS!? IT'S A FUCKING BELLIGERENT ENGINE, YOU FUCK!!
Image:Angry.jpg|An Angry Marines Belligerent Engine fucking up the [[Pretty Marines]]
Image:Librarian_moarfistin_the_extremely_cross_by_vyler-d4fppg6(single_pose).jpg|Librarian Moarfistin the Extremely Cross
Image:Angry 3.jpg
Image:Angry 4.jpg
Image:Angry_Marines_by_wolvesofruss.jpg
Image:Angry_Marine_by_KillaKatana.jpg|Maximum FUCK
File:Folding_chair.jpg|Original file was 1280x2304px of pure win. But the fucking site wouldn't upload it! Original at: http://j.mp/p3jxvI
File:Yourwingmen.jpg|Fanart with Angry Marine and Necron. Possibly from [[HS40K]].
File:Librarian_moarfistin_the_extremely_cross_by_vyler.jpg|Librarian Moarfistin, of the Angry Marines. Read more about him [[Angry_Marines#Librarian_Moarfistin.2C_the_Extremely_Cross|above]].
File:Angry marine in the kitchen.jpg|I thought I told you to get the fuck out of my kitchen
File:Angry doom.PNG|You guys. I think I [[Doom|just found]] a missing Primarch.
File:Jet-Propelled-Rage-Dispenser.jpg|Deep striking never felt so good.
File:AngryMarinesCommandSquad.jpg|From the creator of the [[Unyuufex]] comes the Angry Marines Command Squad!
</gallery></center>

=External Links=
*[[Codex - Angry Marines 8th Edition]]
*[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0puigjMynxs/ ANGRY MARINES FUCK SHIT UP]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/2753800/ ANGRY MARINES CODEX UPDATED!]
*[http://www.2shared.com/document/vtES35CD/CodexAngryMarines.html old ANGRY MARINES CODEX IN A CONVENIENT PDF!]
*[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWIIdx483OE/ ANGRY MARINES NATIONAL ANTHEM!]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/7931028/images/1265355377893.jpg ANGRY MARINES DO A QUEST]
*[http://angry-marines.spreadshirt.com/ ANGRY MARINES SHIRT STORE!]
*[http://warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:Algrim_Whitefang/Angry_Marines ANGRY MARINES 40KWIKIBLOG. COPIED RIGHT FROM THIS PAGE. COCKNUGGET!]
*[http://www.mediafire.com/?m2861ceymxuvrbz Angry Marine Codex]
*[http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/323271.page Forum thread where poster showcases a kick-ass collection of Angry Marine customized models including vehicles]
*[https://www.shapeways.com/marketplace/games/tabletop-wargaming?q=Angry+Marines&sort=&facet%5BpdcId%5D%5B%5D=564&facet%5BpdcId%5D%5B%5D=655&facet%5BpdcId%5D%5B%5D=570&facet%5Bprice%5D%5Bmin%5D=1&facet%5Bprice%5D%5Bmax%5D=2500&facet%5Bprice%5D%5Bfrom%5D=1&facet%5Bprice%5D%5Bto%5D=2500 Angry Marines custom bits from Shapeways!] Unfortunately, the search caught some irrelevant pieces as well.
*[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWIIdx483OE/ Angry Marines theme song]

[[Category:Imperial]][[Category:Warhammer 40,000]][[Category:Space Marines]][[Category:Awesome]][[Category:Stories]][[Category:Stories/Warhammer 40,000]] [[Category:Warhammer Homebrew]][[Category:/tg/ 40,000]]

Hawk Lords

2021-03-04T21:34:08Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D: /* Notable Members */

{{Infobox Spess Mahreen Chapter
|Name = Hawk Lords
|Heraldry = [[File:Hawk Lords Heraldry.jpg|200px]]
|Battle Cry = Unknown
|Founding = Unknown
|Successors of = [[Ultramarines]]
|Successor Chapters = Unknown
|Chapter Master = Unknown
|Primarch = [[Roboute Guilliman]]
|Homeworld = Preyspire
|Allegiance = [[Imperium]]
|Colours = Purple with black Aquila and yellow Heraldry with company color trim
|Specialty = Fucking Shit up [[Stormtalon|With]],[[Stormraven|various]], [[Thunderhawk|flyers]]
}}
{{Topquote|Fight on and fly on to the last drop of blood and the last drop of fuel, to the last beat of the heart.|Manfred von Richthofen, The Red Baron}}
A [[Space Marine]] Chapter of an Unknown Founding, the Hawk Lords are a pretty cool chapter. Instead of using [[Drop Pod|Drop Pods]] like normal Space Marines, they instead go for the more hands-on approach of flying their troops in on [[Thunderhawk|Thunderhawk Gunships]]. When their ground forces don't work they send in entire squadrons of [[Stormtalon|Stormtalons]]. Besides their extreme boners for airships, they have accomplished making better Jump Packs. Their so-called Hawk Wings are apparently [[Awesome|powerful enough to the point where a Devastator Marine can use it]]. Why these guys don't get more lore is a mystery.

==Origin Controversy==
For whatever reason (mostly writers being lazy and/or not checking consistency) multiple books are giving different Legion origins for the Hawk Lords. On one hand, their heraldry and use of Thunderhawks instead of Drop Pods do lean towards Raven Guard or Emperor's Children (who liked blowing the fuck out of the enemy with big-ass aircraft). After the [[Drop Site Massacre|Drop Site Massacre]], the reorganized Raven Guard called their vehicle and air support companies "Hawks", which could be where the Hawk Lords got their name, given their own love of aircraft. On the other hand, they are a [[Codex Astartes|Codex compliant chapter]] (which doesn't really mean anything, honestly). That and the fact that like other Ultramarine successor chapters ([[Aurora Chapter]] and [[Nemesis|Nemesis chapter]] for example) taking their names from their legion chapters, the 21st chapter of the Ultramarines Legion was known as The Hawks. But we don't know. They could be a [[Dark Angels]] chapter seeing as the call their air unit the Talon Wing. Thanks [[GeeDubs]].

==Notable Members==
Atherias: A battle-brother of the Hawk Lords before becoming one of the founding members of the [[Deathwatch]] (and more than likely the best corvus blackstar pilot in the imperium.)

==Daily Rituals==
* 4:00: The Hawk Lords wake up to their [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ozHoyO78hA most holy of anthems].
* 4:30: Prayer to the emperor, and thanks to the Primarch, who has always been Roboute Guilliman, in spite of what some scribes might say. And they say hello to him and report to him once a week which he answers during that time assign to them
* 5:00: Morning firing rights and drills, usually while passing by and performing the "holy nosepat" upon the chapter's various aircraft.
* 7:00: Morning meal. Most of it is shared with chapter serfs and their families, both marine and serf . It is also by this point have just gotten done refueling the Chapter Thunderhawks for the day's missions and exercises.
* 8.00: Equipment maintenance. Special attention is paid to ensuring each and every craft in the hangars are in peak flying shape.
* 10.00: Close combat and firing drills. This is primarily to sharpen their skills, and serve to remind the Battle-Brothers that they cannot solve every problem with aircraft, as much as that would kick ass.
* 11:30: Aerial drills and exercises. The Hawk Lords at last return to the place they feel most comfortable; the cockpit of one of their many airships and single person flyers. Battle-Brothers can also cut a little loose by performing impressive feats of aeronautical artistry, but are usually reprimanded by superior officers as a matter of principal afterward, usually because the trick they just did was cooler than that of their superiors'.
* 13:30: Mid-Day meal. Usually on the tarmac of the air strip.
* 14:30: Physical training.
* 15:30: Down time. Most Hawk Lords engage in spirited games of volleyball without armor, squad bonding activities, or get right back into that [[Stormhawk]] they piloted earlier in the day to see "what this baby can REALLY do". Smart commanders and sergeants take this time to give more fly-happy battle-brothers scouting missions. Less popular battle brothers get stuck flying the Stormtalons.
* 17:30: Afternoon prayers, which ends with a flyover by special chaplain-flown thunderhawks.
* 19:30: Evening Prayer and meal. Chapter Serfs are allowed an autograph session.
* 21:30: Night-flying exercises. Not to spoke the local hive worlders if they can help it.
* 23:00: Hawk Lords retire to dream about soaring through the skies in the name of the Emperor.

==Gallery==
<gallery>
File:Hawk Lord Womble.jpg|They got a Womble, and still Games Workshop doesn't give them more lore
File:Hawk Lords Space Marine.jpg|Back when their purple was redder, [[Ork|'cos red makes dere fightaz go fasta]]
File:Hawk Lords Primaris.jpg|8th Edition claims them as Ultramarines, an it is
</gallery>

{{Template:Marines-Official}}

Hawk Lords

2021-03-04T21:33:20Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D:

{{Infobox Spess Mahreen Chapter
|Name = Hawk Lords
|Heraldry = [[File:Hawk Lords Heraldry.jpg|200px]]
|Battle Cry = Unknown
|Founding = Unknown
|Successors of = [[Ultramarines]]
|Successor Chapters = Unknown
|Chapter Master = Unknown
|Primarch = [[Roboute Guilliman]]
|Homeworld = Preyspire
|Allegiance = [[Imperium]]
|Colours = Purple with black Aquila and yellow Heraldry with company color trim
|Specialty = Fucking Shit up [[Stormtalon|With]],[[Stormraven|various]], [[Thunderhawk|flyers]]
}}
{{Topquote|Fight on and fly on to the last drop of blood and the last drop of fuel, to the last beat of the heart.|Manfred von Richthofen, The Red Baron}}
A [[Space Marine]] Chapter of an Unknown Founding, the Hawk Lords are a pretty cool chapter. Instead of using [[Drop Pod|Drop Pods]] like normal Space Marines, they instead go for the more hands-on approach of flying their troops in on [[Thunderhawk|Thunderhawk Gunships]]. When their ground forces don't work they send in entire squadrons of [[Stormtalon|Stormtalons]]. Besides their extreme boners for airships, they have accomplished making better Jump Packs. Their so-called Hawk Wings are apparently [[Awesome|powerful enough to the point where a Devastator Marine can use it]]. Why these guys don't get more lore is a mystery.

==Origin Controversy==
For whatever reason (mostly writers being lazy and/or not checking consistency) multiple books are giving different Legion origins for the Hawk Lords. On one hand, their heraldry and use of Thunderhawks instead of Drop Pods do lean towards Raven Guard or Emperor's Children (who liked blowing the fuck out of the enemy with big-ass aircraft). After the [[Drop Site Massacre|Drop Site Massacre]], the reorganized Raven Guard called their vehicle and air support companies "Hawks", which could be where the Hawk Lords got their name, given their own love of aircraft. On the other hand, they are a [[Codex Astartes|Codex compliant chapter]] (which doesn't really mean anything, honestly). That and the fact that like other Ultramarine successor chapters ([[Aurora Chapter]] and [[Nemesis|Nemesis chapter]] for example) taking their names from their legion chapters, the 21st chapter of the Ultramarines Legion was known as The Hawks. But we don't know. They could be a [[Dark Angels]] chapter seeing as the call their air unit the Talon Wing. Thanks [[GeeDubs]].

==Notable Members==
Atherias: A battle-brother of the Hawk Lords before becoming one of the founding members of the [[Deathwatch]]

==Daily Rituals==
* 4:00: The Hawk Lords wake up to their [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ozHoyO78hA most holy of anthems].
* 4:30: Prayer to the emperor, and thanks to the Primarch, who has always been Roboute Guilliman, in spite of what some scribes might say. And they say hello to him and report to him once a week which he answers during that time assign to them
* 5:00: Morning firing rights and drills, usually while passing by and performing the "holy nosepat" upon the chapter's various aircraft.
* 7:00: Morning meal. Most of it is shared with chapter serfs and their families, both marine and serf . It is also by this point have just gotten done refueling the Chapter Thunderhawks for the day's missions and exercises.
* 8.00: Equipment maintenance. Special attention is paid to ensuring each and every craft in the hangars are in peak flying shape.
* 10.00: Close combat and firing drills. This is primarily to sharpen their skills, and serve to remind the Battle-Brothers that they cannot solve every problem with aircraft, as much as that would kick ass.
* 11:30: Aerial drills and exercises. The Hawk Lords at last return to the place they feel most comfortable; the cockpit of one of their many airships and single person flyers. Battle-Brothers can also cut a little loose by performing impressive feats of aeronautical artistry, but are usually reprimanded by superior officers as a matter of principal afterward, usually because the trick they just did was cooler than that of their superiors'.
* 13:30: Mid-Day meal. Usually on the tarmac of the air strip.
* 14:30: Physical training.
* 15:30: Down time. Most Hawk Lords engage in spirited games of volleyball without armor, squad bonding activities, or get right back into that [[Stormhawk]] they piloted earlier in the day to see "what this baby can REALLY do". Smart commanders and sergeants take this time to give more fly-happy battle-brothers scouting missions. Less popular battle brothers get stuck flying the Stormtalons.
* 17:30: Afternoon prayers, which ends with a flyover by special chaplain-flown thunderhawks.
* 19:30: Evening Prayer and meal. Chapter Serfs are allowed an autograph session.
* 21:30: Night-flying exercises. Not to spoke the local hive worlders if they can help it.
* 23:00: Hawk Lords retire to dream about soaring through the skies in the name of the Emperor.

==Gallery==
<gallery>
File:Hawk Lord Womble.jpg|They got a Womble, and still Games Workshop doesn't give them more lore
File:Hawk Lords Space Marine.jpg|Back when their purple was redder, [[Ork|'cos red makes dere fightaz go fasta]]
File:Hawk Lords Primaris.jpg|8th Edition claims them as Ultramarines, an it is
</gallery>

{{Template:Marines-Official}}

Hawk Lords

2021-03-04T21:32:52Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D:

{{Infobox Spess Mahreen Chapter
|Name = Hawk Lords
|Heraldry = [[File:Hawk Lords Heraldry.jpg|200px]]
|Battle Cry = Unknown
|Founding = Unknown
|Successors of = [[Ultramarines]]
|Successor Chapters = Unknown
|Chapter Master = Unknown
|Primarch = [[Roboute Guilliman]]
|Homeworld = Preyspire
|Allegiance = [[Imperium]]
|Colours = Purple with black Aquila and yellow Heraldry with company color trim
|Specialty = Fucking Shit up [[Stormtalon|With]],[[Stormraven|various]], [[flyers|Thunderhawks]]
}}
{{Topquote|Fight on and fly on to the last drop of blood and the last drop of fuel, to the last beat of the heart.|Manfred von Richthofen, The Red Baron}}
A [[Space Marine]] Chapter of an Unknown Founding, the Hawk Lords are a pretty cool chapter. Instead of using [[Drop Pod|Drop Pods]] like normal Space Marines, they instead go for the more hands-on approach of flying their troops in on [[Thunderhawk|Thunderhawk Gunships]]. When their ground forces don't work they send in entire squadrons of [[Stormtalon|Stormtalons]]. Besides their extreme boners for airships, they have accomplished making better Jump Packs. Their so-called Hawk Wings are apparently [[Awesome|powerful enough to the point where a Devastator Marine can use it]]. Why these guys don't get more lore is a mystery.

==Origin Controversy==
For whatever reason (mostly writers being lazy and/or not checking consistency) multiple books are giving different Legion origins for the Hawk Lords. On one hand, their heraldry and use of Thunderhawks instead of Drop Pods do lean towards Raven Guard or Emperor's Children (who liked blowing the fuck out of the enemy with big-ass aircraft). After the [[Drop Site Massacre|Drop Site Massacre]], the reorganized Raven Guard called their vehicle and air support companies "Hawks", which could be where the Hawk Lords got their name, given their own love of aircraft. On the other hand, they are a [[Codex Astartes|Codex compliant chapter]] (which doesn't really mean anything, honestly). That and the fact that like other Ultramarine successor chapters ([[Aurora Chapter]] and [[Nemesis|Nemesis chapter]] for example) taking their names from their legion chapters, the 21st chapter of the Ultramarines Legion was known as The Hawks. But we don't know. They could be a [[Dark Angels]] chapter seeing as the call their air unit the Talon Wing. Thanks [[GeeDubs]].

==Notable Members==
Atherias: A battle-brother of the Hawk Lords before becoming one of the founding members of the [[Deathwatch]]

==Daily Rituals==
* 4:00: The Hawk Lords wake up to their [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ozHoyO78hA most holy of anthems].
* 4:30: Prayer to the emperor, and thanks to the Primarch, who has always been Roboute Guilliman, in spite of what some scribes might say. And they say hello to him and report to him once a week which he answers during that time assign to them
* 5:00: Morning firing rights and drills, usually while passing by and performing the "holy nosepat" upon the chapter's various aircraft.
* 7:00: Morning meal. Most of it is shared with chapter serfs and their families, both marine and serf . It is also by this point have just gotten done refueling the Chapter Thunderhawks for the day's missions and exercises.
* 8.00: Equipment maintenance. Special attention is paid to ensuring each and every craft in the hangars are in peak flying shape.
* 10.00: Close combat and firing drills. This is primarily to sharpen their skills, and serve to remind the Battle-Brothers that they cannot solve every problem with aircraft, as much as that would kick ass.
* 11:30: Aerial drills and exercises. The Hawk Lords at last return to the place they feel most comfortable; the cockpit of one of their many airships and single person flyers. Battle-Brothers can also cut a little loose by performing impressive feats of aeronautical artistry, but are usually reprimanded by superior officers as a matter of principal afterward, usually because the trick they just did was cooler than that of their superiors'.
* 13:30: Mid-Day meal. Usually on the tarmac of the air strip.
* 14:30: Physical training.
* 15:30: Down time. Most Hawk Lords engage in spirited games of volleyball without armor, squad bonding activities, or get right back into that [[Stormhawk]] they piloted earlier in the day to see "what this baby can REALLY do". Smart commanders and sergeants take this time to give more fly-happy battle-brothers scouting missions. Less popular battle brothers get stuck flying the Stormtalons.
* 17:30: Afternoon prayers, which ends with a flyover by special chaplain-flown thunderhawks.
* 19:30: Evening Prayer and meal. Chapter Serfs are allowed an autograph session.
* 21:30: Night-flying exercises. Not to spoke the local hive worlders if they can help it.
* 23:00: Hawk Lords retire to dream about soaring through the skies in the name of the Emperor.

==Gallery==
<gallery>
File:Hawk Lord Womble.jpg|They got a Womble, and still Games Workshop doesn't give them more lore
File:Hawk Lords Space Marine.jpg|Back when their purple was redder, [[Ork|'cos red makes dere fightaz go fasta]]
File:Hawk Lords Primaris.jpg|8th Edition claims them as Ultramarines, an it is
</gallery>

{{Template:Marines-Official}}

Standard Template Construct

2021-03-04T21:24:47Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D: /* Revelations from recent STC recoveries */

[[File:STC rogue trader.jpg|thumb|400px]]
{{topquote|Computers are useless. They can only give you answers.|Pablo Picasso}}

A long long time ago, the [[God-Emperor of Mankind|EMPRAH]] declared that humanity had to spread across the stars. He foresaw that humanity would need the resources of a galaxy to withstand the trials of the future: mad gods created by [[Dark Eldar|overindulgent]] [[Eldar|jackholes]], gun-toting [[Orks|walking foot-fungus infections]], and [[Necron|emo robots]] with <strike>plasma</strike> [[gauss]] weapons. A shame he didn't keep any of this nifty tool in his pocket or something just in case. A little foresight would've been appreciated, m'lord.

"But your eminence," asked some foolish minister, "only a fraction of 1% of our population has the skills and knowledge to survive outside our urban hives, never mind on worlds that haven't been terraformed yet!"

"Don't worry; I have a plan. For the past century I've been seeding book publishers with the idea of writing self-help books with names like '... For Dummies' and 'An Idiot's Guide to ...', and I invested in a manufacturing company in the Ikea Norse Hive when it was called 'Sweden'. Centuries later these and many other ideas will bear fruit in a push-button, turnkey, E-Z Bake oven colony procedure tool I will call '''"THE STANDARD TEMPLATE CONSTRUCT"''' and it will enable the most humble among us to reap the benefit of the stars!"

"... E-Z Bake oven, your highness?"

"Ah, an idea before your time. Actually not one of mine; clever little thing. I liked the frosting that came with the cake mixes."

Every colony-ship of humanity carried an STC with them, with easy-to-comprehend blueprints and instructions for everything that a colony would need, from how to use local resources to harvest food or irrigate deserts, to the architecture required to build mile-high hive arcologies or tap a planet's core for the magma pumps needed on forgeworlds. This also had the intended effect of making sure that manufactured goods were compatible between colonies across the [[Imperium of Man]], and that the cultures would stay (relatively) the same and no colony would become so different as to seem as aliens to other humans. This is the reason why everyone across the Imperium speaks the same language, among other similarities between disparate colonies.

However, the STCs were created millennia ago. And there was a [[Dark Age of Technology|Dark Age]] between then and now. And some smartass decided to port the STCs to Android to make sure it would be "more compatible with the smaller devices colony ships will be carrying." As a result, no fully intact STCs are known to have survived to the modern era. All that's left are the short passages that have been copied religiously from generation to generation in each colony, but only what that particular colony needs... if it hasn't been corrupted by thousands of years of transcription (kinda like jpeg corruption amirite). Discovery of a new outpost of humanity is a prestigious discovery, as there's a chance that there may be parts of their STC that were preserved better than others, or even whole pages that are unseen elsewhere. Hoping beyond hope of course, there is still the possibility that an entire working, uncorrupted STC machine exists, probably on one of the worlds in the Halo Zone.

The STCs are a very important thing for the [[tech-priests]] of [[Mars]], because they are a bunch of nutters who for the past ten thousand years have done next to nothing to promote technological progress because <s>they think their machines are alive and that modifying and developing them will hurt their precious feelings</s> any tech more complex than a flintlock can and will be taken over by a [[Void Dragon|zombie robot dragon]] living in Mars if used without protection. Finding an STC is thus the only possibility the Imperium has for restoring humanity to pre-technutter levels. If it manages that, it could surely wipe out all its enemies. Of course, the Mechanicus has a few good reasons for avoiding experimentation. There's more than a few planets that are now uninhabitable, or just plain gone after a magos decided to do some experimentation. See the contagion of [[Ganymede]]. Basically, Golden Age humanity was so damn advanced that dicking with its tech without understanding it is insanely dangerous. Imagine if we lost nearly all of our scientific and technological knowledge to the point your average Joe didn't know how to use a cell phone. Now, he finds a factory and tries to use it. You can imagine what would happen. Even worse, this could cripple the factory from being used by people who come along who actually ''do'' know how to use it. AdMech paranoia about people fucking with new technology makes a little more sense now, doesn't it?

<s>But of course, this being 40k, where status quo is god, the damn things are lost forever.</s> GW has finally gotten around to moving the timeline along, and while there has yet to be recent STC recovery, possibility is out there now. Though, the Emperor probably knows full-well that the Ark Mechanicus ships are STCs because he's the motherfucking Emperor. Who is smart enough to understand telling the Mechanicus something the cogboys would hear as "right there is all the knowledge and power you need to conquer humanity and turn everyone into slaves or servitors, have fun". Even more so that a complete STC is meant to be used to build up to Golden Age standards from absolute scratch if necessary. Which means one of them would completely negate the power of the Mechanicus and its place in the Imperium. Unless it's controlled by the Mechanicus, in which case it would be abused to control the Imperium and force the Machine Cult on everyone. Which is funny because the Machine Cult strongly resembles Christianity: Omnissiach = Jesus (extra irony that Emps either ''is'' Jesus or a thirteenth disciple), Machine God = God (and fits perfectly with God as the creator of the Cosmic Machine that is the universe). See Mechanism for real life Machine Cult like stuff.

On the bright side, there would also be plenty of cogboys who believe in upholding humanity over political power or conquest. Especially after ten thousand years of "humanity first and always" indoctrination added to normal Machine Cult lore, which they didn't have until the Emperor came along. On top of ''that'' the Emperor is the Omnissiah (though, probably not all Tech-Priest believe this). So, we'd have a techno civil war (probably destroying the STCs anyway) and the Imperium would be greatly reduced in size (still several times larger than everyone but the Orks combined) and advanced enough to make the height of the Great Crusade look primitive but still nothing compared to the Golden Age and no more STCs. Yay. At least then the AdMech might know enough and have enough tools to get back to performing science and experimenting in safe ways with enough data to get a sort of general idea for the direction of STC technology. They'd puzzle the truth of things out eventually so the humanity and the Imperium would be better off anyway. Especially now with the Eldar alliance as maybe they'd see keeping at least one STC intact and in the hands of Guilliman as a good thing worth fighting for in order to ensure the destruction of everyone but the Imperium. Hey, they know they can at least trust Guilliman to keep his word and prevent their extermination but everyone else would gladly kill them.

== Revelations from recent STC recoveries ==
Scientific discovery after a dark age can be equal parts research and archeology, as a culture reclaims knowledge it has lost. The [[Adeptus Mechanicus]] is particularly interested in finding new STCs to fill in the gaps of their knowledge, to de-mystify parts of their manufacturing rituals, and to issue new and improved tools to the Imperium, and are willing to pay handsomely for even a fragment of an STC. Basically, if you find the STC for a better toaster you're set for life; find one for an entirely new weapons system and you'll probably end up being made governor of an entire planet (What would happen if you found a complete working one I wonder......).

Among the recent discoveries from recovered STCs:
* The Land Crawler all-terrain soil cultivator vehicle (if by "recent" you mean "late Great Crusade era")
* An artificial sweetener that doesn't have an aftertaste like foot sweat
* The Castigator-class [[Titan (Warhammer 40,000)|Titan]] ([[Grimdark|whose STC turned daemonic]], sidenote however that some Knight houses still possess some schematics but keep them close to their hearts...because using them to fuck the enemies of Man is beyond their severely limited comprehension. Or the designs will turn on you and murder everyone you love...)
* Cultural archives badly lost over the years but basically going back to before M0
* [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-oBEGF7uwE Jodorowsky's] [[Dune]] (holy fuck watch it)
* The HXT-37 voltage transubstantiation cable for using 'AA' batteries in 'AAA' music players
* The 58th flavor of Heinz's ketchup
* Daemon-corrupted [[Men of Iron]] ...err maybe this wasn't such a good find. Cue [[Colonel-Commissar Ibram Gaunt|Ibram Gaunt]] {{BLAM|BLAMMING}} said STC.
* A simple (durable, cheap, [[monowire|mono-molecular]]) combat knife. Two IMPERIAL GUARDSMEN (!) found it and were rewarded with a planet each!
* [[Leman Russ Punisher]] and [[Leman Russ Eradicator|Eradicator]] (actually a case of "hey! Look at this Ancient technology I just... found. I didn't invent it at all, really")
* Various life extension methods like better juvenants, etc
* [[Helmets]] manly enough for space marine commanders

* Kamikaze neckbeard powered toaster ovens ([[Caestus Assault Ram]])
* Baby's First [[Thunderhawk]] (affectionately called the "[[Stormraven Gunship]]" by some.)
* Super Baby-Carrier 40,000 (incomplete STC fragment, but they still managed to build the [[Nemesis Dreadknight]] out of it...)
* <s>Miracle chocolate that somehow only manages to go to women's lovely parts. Extensively eaten by [[Boone]]</s> this was actually planted by the dark eldar rather than being made by humanity. due to the (mistaken) belief that anyone who eats it would instantly be targeted by slaanesh. it didn't work, it did however get the men who eat it very sick...with STD'S.
* Panacea - see the sad story below
* [[Dreadclaw]] [[Drop Pods]]. Something wasn't right with these folks [[Machine Spirit]]. Maybe they really were alive?
* [[Imperial Knight]]s
* [[Crassus Armored Assault Transport|Praetor missile launcher]]
* [[Nephilim Jetfighter]]'s engine
* [[Space Marine Hunter|Hunter]]
* [[Immolator]]
* [[Astraeus Super-Heavy Tank]]

Notice that most of the vehicles in this list did not exist until later editions of the game. This is how [[Games Workshop]] and [[Forge World]] justify adding units to armies (Imperial armies, anyway) -- they existed all along, it's just that the Adeptus Mechanicus only recently re-discovered (or "re-discovered" ''and most definitely did '''not''' invent'') the STC pattern encoding them. Basically, you can know how to build the vehicle, but if you don't know what programs it uses or, possibly, what specific materials to use for more sensitive components, it isn't going to do jack, or worse, it kills you.

Of course, any time that a real game-changing STC comes along, something bad happens and it gets stolen, lost, destroyed, or corrupted, because [[grimdark]]. For example, in the 5th edition [[Dark Eldar]] codex, [[Asdrubael Vect]]'s Ex, [[Lady Malys]], tricked some [[Orks]] into attacking an Industrial world that had been fortified beyond belief. Every hive on it was crammed with guardsmen, and even titan legions and Admech forces were present because they had found an STC called Panacea that would allow <strike>billions</strike> <strike>trillions</strike> <strike>quadrillions</strike> the whole of humanity to be cured of disease and poison (hint: Panacea is a literal ''cure-all''). The Dark Eldar attempted to steal it by luring an Ork fleet to the planet where the Orks pretty much crushed all resistance (quite literally - by crash-landing on it), allowing the Dark Eldar to effortlessly take the STC (after the Orks stole it first, go figure). Of course the Dark Eldar don't use the same technology (and could not care less about cures for ''human'' diseases anyway), so at the moment it's collecting dust in Malys' Trophy Room, rather than alleviating the grimdark. At this point, we can only hope that the Dark Eldar manage to provoke the Imperium into launching a full crusade against [[Commorragh]] and rescue the STC in the process...<s>yeah, right.</s> [[Asdrubael Vect|that did happen]] before this incident, though.

Of course, this would all be doomed to fail once the [[Death Guard]], [[The Purge|Purge]], and all the other forces of [[Nurgle]] surprisingly come to the aid of the Dark Eldar. That, or they'll just intervene in a desperate attempt to destroy this particular STC. After all, a literal cure-all being distributed across the galaxy would be a catastrophic blow against the Plaguefather, and it would weaken him to the point that plot development would be necessary, something that GW will avoid at all costs.

As a side note, Magos Delphan Gruss is an explorator who is convinced from studying STC legends that there exists an artefact called the Omnicopaeia. Rumoured to be either a data storage device containing either every STC invented or every STC related to psychic powers, it was rumoured to be on the Daemon World known as Hell's Teeth in 998.M41 with billions of Skitarii mobilized for a recovery operation.

== Baron von EvilSatan's AdMech/STC copypasta ==
The Mechanicus does NOT have the technology. They haven't been living on some fancy paradise planet since pre-Fall. Mars is an anarchic nightmare shithole the moment you leave the safe zones into the kilometres of labyrinthine corridors beneath it full of rogue machinery, self-aware and malevolent AI from before the Fall, and the daemon programs of the Heresy. EVERYTHING in the databases is fucked. The databases are fragmented over the entire surface to the extent that it would be impossible to see one tenth of the total files in the ludicrously extended life of a Magos even assuming that they are completely safe to visit. And they are not.

The files have been corrupted into madness by the Fall, and the unleashing of the most potent informational warfare systems ever to exist to defeat the Iron Men. Nearly all of Mars was rendered uninhabitable, what they live in now is built on the top of the ruins. They send archeotech expeditions in to find shit, nearly all of them never come back. The sheer number of rogue war machine running around in there is sufficient to rape the mind. Then came the Heresy, which was not earth-exclusive. Mars as the second most critical planet in the Imperium was the site of fighting nearly as ferocious as on Terra, with Mechanicus loyalists and Hereteks fighting tooth, nail, and mechadendrite everywhere. Ancient machines were unleashed, viruses both normal and daemonic unleashed into all the computer systems. Nearly every single stored record on Mars was rendered unusable, and those that survived are half the time self-aware and don't like you, or daemonic and actively try to kill you.

If you come back with a schematic, it is almost certainly gibberish, and if it isn't, it's probably corrupted into uselessness. If it does come back whole it was probably malevolently fucked with so that instead of a Lasgun power cell it's a fucking grenade set to detonate the second you finish building it. Why do you think they want off-world STCs so damned much if they had them all here? The fucking Heresy is why. Off-world they only have to contend with the Fall's war and its effects on the machinery plus twenty thousand years of degradation with no maintenance. But at least off-world it'll probably just not work instead of actively seek to kill you.

Why do you think they seek to placate the Machine Spirit? It's because it exists. The fragments of trillions of self-aware programs, flourishing during the Dark Age of Technology and shattered by Man in his war with the Iron men, imprisoning the few who had not set themselves irrevocably into the machinery, a prison smashed wide open by the Heresy. Everything that can hold programming in the Imperium has a shard of a program in it. EVERYTHING. And you'd better fucking please it or it will do everything in its power to make your day shit. Sure, if it's a Lasgun it'll just not work or start shooting off rounds by itself, but if you piss off a Land Raider you can say bye-bye to half a continent. They apply these principles to things without spirits by habit, since they're so used to dealing with tanks that if not talked to just right might go rogue and annihilate the Manufactorum before they can be killed.

This is why they do not like ANYONE fucking with technology, because it is so rare to find anything that just works it is critical it not be compromised. That, and they do not have the actual knowledge to fuck with it intelligently, just through experimentation, which inevitably leads to slaughter. Pressing buttons to see what works is fine in a 21st century computer, but it is a very stupid thing to do at the helm of a 410th century starship with the destructive power to end solar systems. The entire knowledge base of humanity was lost. Not forgotten, but outright lost. Everything at all, poof. Nobody knows anything because the Fall fucked everything up and the Heresy double-fucked it. To rebuild the theoretical framework needed to design new technologies that don't kill everyone near them would require starting from the ground up. They don't have the time, and they never have.

This gets on to the point of war and what it does to technology. Someone will parrot that it makes it go much faster. Yes, it makes practical applications of technology go much faster. It also utterly stops all research on the scientific theories behind those technologies. This means that when war chugs along for a decade or two things get done. It means when it goes on too long you run out of theories to turn into technologies, and then you run out of technologies to apply. You stagnate. When you have been fighting in a war for survival in a drastically overextended empire, this is what happens. You are desperate for any extra materiel that can possibly be produced. Half your entire fucking military might went rogue, smashed the half that stayed, leaving you with the tattered shreds of a war machine to keep hold of an empire that was reaching straining point with an army far larger. There is no time for the sort of applied research programs that took Man twenty five thousand years to develop, in a time of unprecedented growth and prosperity.

This is also why the Adeptus Mechanicus insists on cargo cultism. It's because when you are dealing with things you barely understand because everything you knew about them was destroyed it is the safest and most reliable option. The rituals do not exists for mysticism, they exist because they are the most practical means of building, repairing and maintaining the equipment they have with the knowledge surviving. You don't understand why pressing that button makes it go, because the manual tried to take over your brain and the copies are all unreadable and the research base that would let you reverse-engineer it does not exist and cannot be built.

Why are the Tau doing so well with their technology? Because they had peace. Eight thousand years unmolested by any enemy and they were helped the entire time by the most advanced biological race in the galaxy. Give the Imperium eight thousand years of peace and I can guarantee you it will be harder than it was during the Great Crusade.

Since some still don't get the idea, try this.

Build a library, fill it with all human knowledge. You take it elsewhere when you need a book from it, but the book is only a simplified copy. You don't understand the real book, and you don't need to. Nobody takes the real books anywhere because why would you, when there's a whole library there?

Now that library goes rogue and the maintenance machinery starts killing everyone any-fucking-where near it. Where the fuck did they all come from, you swear to god there weren't this many, and there weren't because they're using the library's information to fight their war. The government fights a battle that destroys the planet against these robots and tears apart the library to stop them using it, only to be destroyed in the process. The library is leveled, cast into flames, every book burned and every computer virus-laden.

Then comes a man who worked there. He talks to the few surviving library workers, assembles their information, and starts rebuilding a city around the library and expanding it as the librarians find little scraps of paper and fragmented bits of files that stuck together just right read something. They rebuild a library from scrap on the ashes of the old. It isn't a shadow on the glory of the old, but it is all they have.

Then the city turns on itself, kills its master, and the librarians turn to rage. Half of them kill the other half and destroy the remnants of the library because where they're going they won't need science. Everything burns, and the city is left to a scattered few survivors, walls open to the world, with the hungry predators circling.

The Adeptus Mechanicus is the sole surviving librarian, desperately scrabbling through the ashes of paper and splinters of hard drives for anything to help him and the city he needs to survive just a second longer.

The Imperium isn't grim because things suck by choice and could be fine if a sensible person came along. That sensible person wouldn't survive fifty seconds of the reality. The Imperium is grim because every single shit decision, every single sacrifice, every single death, every single man woman and child suffering a shit life in the worst conditions imaginable, is the absolute best that can be done. It is a study of the worst happening to everyone and what part of your humanity must be sacrificed today just to stand a chance of survival, and all it asks is whether or not it would have perhaps been better to die.

Written by Baron von EvilSatan

== The Ark Mechanicus (SPOILERS FOR PRIEST OF MARS) ==
''You are Ark Mechanicus. You are Speranza. You are the bringer of hope in this hopeless age.''

{{Spoilers}}

In this novel written by [[Graham McNeill]], it is revealed that the Ark Mechanicus ''Speranza,'' an incredibly old and massive ship used by the [[Adeptus Mechanicus]] to explore new stellar territories, has some of the most advanced technological achievements of mankind encoded in its very structure. This revelation, unfortunately, was only discovered during a brief moment when one of the main protagonists of the novel, Archmagos Lexell Kotov, made some sort of spiritual connection with the [[Machine Spirit]] of the ''Speranza''(alignment: True Neutral) in order to save the day, and he forgot what he had seen immediately after.

Which may suck, yes, but this was compensated by the fact that upon the Archmagos linking with the ship, the ''Speranza'''s AI went godmode, deploying all kind of unimaginably super-high-tech targeting systems that NOBODY knew it had, systems that were capable of functioning with 100% precision in the middle of a space-time gravitational storm, and detected and <strike>crippled</strike> fatally damaged an [[Eldar]] cruiser in [[awesome|ONE FUCKING SHOT using a dorsal mounted BLACK HOLE CANNON]] so unbelievably advanced even the [[Necrons]] would have been scratching their heads trying to understand how it worked, although the narration tells us it involves antimatter, gravitons, and [[Dark Eldar|dark matter]].

What makes it even better is that the Eldar ship was guided by a Farseer, and thus managed to actually DODGE the weapon's blast, which was explicitly stated to be moving at the speed of light. Of course, at the sort of distances combat is often fought in space, dodging light is very, very easy if you have foreknowledge of where it will be - for example, if you are a light-second away from the shooter, you have, by definition, an entire second to get off your sorry ass and move. The ''Speranza'' wasn't having any of it, and instead of missing like some plebeian battleship with its macro-cannons and lances, followed up with a chrono-gun shooting tachyons to shift the Eldar ship a nanosecond into the past to make the black hole shot connect. [[awesome|IT FUCKING TELEPORTED AN ENEMY SHIP THROUGH TIME SO IT WOULDN'T HAVE TO TURN AND FIRE AGAIN]].

Another conclusion that some reading this scene have come up with is that the black holes the Speranza fires also mess with time themselves, and that the end result shifts the target back in time a few nanoseconds, forcing two iterations to exist at the same place and time, destroying both. This thing can basically telefrag enemies, like some kind of continent sized Doomguy. Regardless of whether this explanation or the one above are correct, both are badass.

That's right, lads, the Ark Mechanicus ships which the Imperium already own and operate could be the answer to the missing information of the STCs and more. A shame not even an Archmagos can access the information without immediately forgetting it all once the interface with the Machine Spirit has been severed. Especially given that, once linked to the ship, Kotov realized that (perhaps all of) the Ark Mechanicus used by the Mechanicum ''are'' [[Powergamer| complete, self-updating STCs]].

Still. One-shotting an eldar cruiser with sniper-precision in the middle of a space-storm that should have made locating said vessel completely impossible, much less being able to fire at it with any hope of accuracy.

Humanity's old tech was scary-powerful. How the mighty have fallen, eh? From turbo fuckyou chrono-weapons to ineffectual [[lasgun|flashlights]]. That's not even [[grimdark]]. That's just outright depressing.

Indeed, also, it may or may not be because every time a higher STC device works correctly the Imperium suddenly wipes out of the table anything and we mean ANYTHING that it's thrown at them, what's up, Hivefleets? Get some space DNA-recombinant insecticide that uses quantum-whatever to preemptively neutralize your evolutionary countermeasures! Chaos Greater Daemons? Pff, now you DO NOT exist with my Empyrean Bomb! C'Tan shards? Let me show you what is to alter reality with my time-altering macrocannon! So yeah, if the Imperium ever gets these things working and mass-produced it's warranted at least one of the major enemy factions will be eradicated or become a minor nuisance, like it was in the Golden Age Of Technology.

(Provided the Necrons, Orks or Chaos/Dark Mechanicum don't produce their own variants. Talk about a Grimdark Arms-Race!) If the enemies haven’t advanced for tens of millions of years, they’re not going to. The Necrons don't have to, because they literally have 60 million years on mankind (albeit those who stayed awake all that time went a little nuts). Sixty million years and still primitive compared to peak Dark Age humanity. Man we’re fucked up seeing as our cool tech are almost all doomsday devices.

The best part, though, is that we now can gleefully point out how ridiculously primitive the Eldar are. Remember: the Dark Eldar maintained the technology of the height of the Eldar empire, so they haven't regressed technologically. They're also insanely primitive compared to Dark Age humanity. So, the Eldar probably know that (not having lost history, probably) and it would explain their snobbery. They're fucking jealous and intimidated because they ''know'' how scary, stupidly, ''utterly'' '''beautifully''' '''''overpowered''''' humanity can really be. To add insult to injury, when Eldar fight even mere Imperial Guard, they suffer heavy casualties even if they win (and they sometimes lose to the Guard, let alone Astartes). Heck, Vect’s plan to get rid of his rivals by instigating an Imperial invasion of Commorragh nearly backfired when just a few elements of like two Chapters laid waste to the city.

Eh, that last part about the Eldar being 'primitive' in comparison to Dark Age Humanity is debatable. It's important to keep in mind that while Dark Age humans had a lot of really awesome shit kicking around, ''a lot of them fucking died when those same machines rebelled against them'' (noting the machines went nuts or were corrupted does not argue against the Eldar being less advanced). In the same book that the Ark Mechanicus one-shots the Eldar cruiser, it only does so because it ''can'', not because it's beholden to the Tech-Priest that's talking to it, or has some particular fondness for humanity. This motherfucker is TRUE NEUTRAL. It even tells the tech-priest that it doesn't care if it gets destroyed, because it will somehow continue even without its physical container. This machine does not give a SINGLE, ''SOLITARY'' FUCK about you. This is a rogue AI with the capability of generating pinpoint time-travelling singularities on a whim, with no sympathies or attachments to anything. And it doesn't go around blowing everything up because, well, it just doesn't and don't ask it why it doesn't. It's quite possible that the Eldar fully had the capability of creating ships with the same capabilities, but chose not to, because frankly it sounds like a really dumb fucking idea. Also keep in mind that the Fall of the Eldar wasn't caused by their technology, but by their culture becoming overly decadent and depraved. Eldar tech had progressed to a point of virtual stagnation, because what do you really need to invent when you've satisfied every need for your society? In the fluff, the Eldar had an interstellar empire around the same time humanity was figuring out agriculture, and that empire lasted until the Fall in ~M29. Meanwhile, humanity had ''already'' destroyed their own interstellar empires by around M25 (well, no, they didn't, Chaos, aliens, and the Eldar's fuckup destroyed said empire/federation, not human mistakes). Which kind of goes a long way in justifying the Eldar's views that humanity is a child race of reckless idiots (because the Eldar blame humanity for the consequences of the eldar's mistakes). Neither side really wins, though, since while humanity followed the rule of cool and had a brief but more kickass empire than the Eldar, Eldar tech stagnated and their empire survived long enough to devolve into orgy cults so fucked up they created an evil god. Again, no real winners here.
[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]][[Category:Imperial]][[Category:Adeptus Mechanicus]]

Corvus Blackstar

2021-03-04T21:04:41Z

2601:585:8301:76D0:F1F2:9E9E:4946:483D:

[[File:CorvusBlackstar.jpg|300px|right|thumb|[[Rape|I have become Death,]] [[Tyranid|destroyer]] [[Orks|of Blob Armies.]]]]
The result of a drunken one night stand between the [[Stormraven]] and [[Valkyrie#In_Warhammer_40000|Valkyrie]], the '''Corvus Blackstar''' may be a bastard, but unlike certain [[Taurox|others]], he actually makes his parents ''proud.'' Even if they did make him [[A Song of Ice and Fire|take the black]].

Yet ''another'' [[awesome]] vehicle given to the [[Spess mehreen]] army [[Sisters of Battle|while other more unfortunate]] [[Dark Eldar|factions are left with dust and nothing.]] The Blackstar is a unique plane exclusive to the [[Deathwatch]] after being given their own fancy codex. Though the [[Raven Guard]] and [[Hawk Lords]] are looking to acquire them for their own purposes, and the [[Blood Ravens]] have "recovered" a few of them...they want more.

A sleek and deadly craft, it is designed to penetrate the outer defenses of alien hosts to strike directly at its heart. Though small enough to slip through sensor grids, the Blackstar is brimming with [[Dakka|firepower]]. Primarily fulfilling the role of transport, its vectored engines are nimble enough to dart through winding terrain. Once in position it will switch from fighter craft to hovercraft, deploying the Deathwatch Space Marines held within. Essentially speaking, the Blackstar is a smaller, faster, more agile, tougher and more shootier counterpart to the [[Thunderhawk]]- the UH-60 Blackhawk Direct Action Penetrator to the Thunderhawk's CH-47 Chinook. The pilot of each Blackstar is (usually) a veteran [[Techmarine]] which has proven himself in countless campaigns and machine loving.

==Why this aircraft is ridiculously awesome==
Curiously, unlike more mainstream Imperial technology, the Corvus Blackstar is far, far more advanced than the other Imperial craft which it resembles and it shows. [[Stormtalon|In]] [[Stormraven|contrast]] [[Stormwolf|to]] [[Thunderhawk|other]] [[Caestus Assault Ram|Space]] [[Space Marine Landing Craft|Marine]] [[Stormfang|aeronautics]], the Corvus Blackstar along with the [[Nephilim Jetfighter]] is surprisingly aerodynamic.

Additionally, it gains brownie points for actually looking like a [[Awesome|Terran Quantradyne APOD-33 dropship from Starcraft]] and thus less painful to the eyes; the Blackstar boasts an amazing array of equipment optimized for alien hunting, such as [[Infernum Halo Launcher|halo launchers]], twin-linked [[Assault Cannon|assault cannons]] (which can be replaced by [[lascannon]]s), [[Stormstrike Missile Launcher|stormstrike missiles]] (replaceable with a twin-linked [[Blackstar Rocket Launcher|Blackstar rocket launcher]]), more missile pods that can fire incendiary Dracos air-to-ground missiles or air-to-air Corvid rockets, a [[Blackstar Cluster Launcher|Blackstar cluster launcher]], which is multiple auxiliary grenade launchers mounted in the rear to strafe smaller targets, an anti-air ballistics suite which is protected by ceramite plating which shrugs off even a direct hit from enemy anti-aircraft fire, and it is also equipped with decoy flares and interceptors. And [[Hurricane Bolter]]s, cause it needs more dakka.

[[Tl;dr]] [[Rape|Holy Shit! This thing is a flying]] [[Baneblade|Baneblade!]]

== Gallery ==

<gallery>
image:CorvusBlackstarPict.jpg|<center>Pict Capture</center>
image:CorvusBlackstarProfile.jpg|<center>Side and Front Views</center>
image:CorvusBlackstarBack.jpg|<center>Back View</center>
image:CorvusBlackstarWingWeapons.jpg|<center>Stormstrike Missile and</center><center>Blackstar Rocket Launchers</center>
image:CorvusBlackstarCluster.jpg|<center>Blackstar</center><center>Cluster Launcher</center>
image:CorvusBlackstarHurricaneBolter.jpg|<center>Hurricane Bolters</center>
image:CorvusBlackstarInfernum.jpg|<center>Infernum Halo-Launcher</center>
image:CorvusBlackstarArmouredWindshield.jpg|<center>Armoured Windshield</center>
image:CorvusBlackstarAirBrakes.jpg|<center>Air Brakes</center>
</gallery>

[[Category: Flyers]]

{{Deathwatch}}

{{Template:40k-Imperial-Vehicles}}