Editing Bjorn the Fell Handed (section)

===Stormfangs===
"AT THIS POINT, ORNAMENTS AND FILIGREE SOUND FUCKING PEACHY KEEN. BRING BACK THE GILDED RUNES AND SHIT. DRESS ME UP LIKE THAT FUCKING PONCE FULGRIM. JUST LET ME DO BATTLE"

The tech-adepts sighed collectively. This was the worst Story Time with Bjorn anyone could remember. He hadn't even answered the questions senior wolf-lords had asked him.

"YOU STUPID FUCKERS", Bjorn continued, "COVERING EVERYTHING WITH WOLVES. RIDING WOLVES INTO BATTLE. HOWLING AND CHASING STICKS. DO YOU THINK THAT THE WOLF FRIGHTENS THE ENEMIES OF MANKIND?"

Several newer recruits, deafened by Bjorn's tirade and trying to avoid his visor's angry glare, nodded furiously, tongues hanging out and hair bristled.

"YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN WHAT WE ARE. WE ARE ASTARTES! SPACE FUCKING MARINES! GENE-FORGED, BATTLE-HARDENED, IMMORTAL SLAYERS OF MORTALS. THE ENEMIES OF MANKIND ARE NOT AFRAID OF TRAINED BEASTS. THEY SHOULD FEAR US."

Ah, what was the use? They'd forget it all soon anyway, go back to molesting their hairy friends and howling at the moon. They'd be using wolves to pull fucking chariots next. At least the madness hadn't reached all parts of his beloved chapter. The Thunderhawks hadn't been renamed Thunderwolves, at least the last time he....

"WHAT IS THAT?"

The tech-adepts coughed and fidgeted. One ventured a glance at Bjorn and responded.

"What is what, honored lord?"

"THAT... THING ON THE LANDING PAD. WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK IS THAT?"

"The noble Stormfang gunship, honoured lord? It has been part of the chapter's armory since..."

"ANOTHER FUCKING WORD AND I WILL TURN YOU INTO A SOUP CAN, TECH-PRIEST. THAT... THING IS NEW. IT IS NEW AND IT LOOKS LIKE A WOLF'S HEAD."

Bjorn tried to remember the names of the great flying machines of his age. Something about this new craft was familiar...

"YOU FUR-FUCKING FUCKERS CUT A CAESTUS ASSAULT RAM IN HALF, DIDN'T YOU? YOU CUT IT IN HALF AND BOLTED SOME ENGINES AND A FUCKTON OF WOLF SYMBOLS TO IT."

Most of the tech-adepts had quietly disappeared, but a few remained, and denied the accusation with desperate, quiet words as Bjorn stalked towards them.

"OH NO? NOT YOU. THEN."

"The Blood Ravens chapter, honoured lord. They said it was a gift."

"THOSE FUCKING MAGPIES. THEY NEVER GIVE GIFTS. WHAT DID THEY TAKE IN RETURN?"

"Honoured lord, the Blood Ravens were kind enough to accept our disused battle-bikes in trade."

"WHAT!"

"Most of Chapter prefers to ride into battle on their wolves, my lord, and so the bikes are no loss."

"WHAT ELSE."

"They... they also took several Vindicator tanks and a few relics from our armory."

"SON OF A SHIELDWOMAN'S SPAWN, YOU FUCKERS THOUGHT THAT WAS A GOOD TRADE?"

"My lord, the Chapter as a whole approved it. In the words of Blood Claw Firegar, 'It looks just like a wooooooOAAAAUUUUGH!"

Bjorn stalked back towards the stasis vaults and cryo-tanks, dead tech-adept in hand. He needed a nap. A long, quiet nap. When he woke up, he quietly hoped the whole Chapter would be extinct or too bestial to fight. Then he'd have some peace and quiet.