On Fri, 25 Apr 1997, Tim and/or Mr Splob wrote:

 I have not spent the last five hundred years as the Commander of this
 Chapter simply to be a titular leader! When I tell you to make a cup
 of coffee, I mean it! -Commander Takant.

 Heresy? What do you know of heresy? In this system, in the midst of
 this perpetual war, we have attained a new understanding with the
 peoples of the galaxy. In some cities on this very planet, humans,
 Squats, Orks and Eldar coexist peacefully. We have learnt the
 language of the Tyranids and we converse with daemons. We have
 something you and your Imperium will never have; we have a unity.
 -Chief Librarian Matthawa.

 Tactics are a simple matter. When I see the world, I see it with the
 clarity of the strategist’s board, and the impenetrable fog of the
 battlefield. The difficult bit is when that Bloodthirster charges you
 right in the thick of it. After that, anything seems easy. -Captain
 Jatro

 Incarna turned his massive, bulky body around in the confines of the
 laboratory within the Librarium and found the crystal focusing
 matrix. He handed it to the comparatively tiny figure of Chief
 Librarian Matthawa. ‘Thanks,’ said the Marine, ‘And, uh, hand me the
 test witch blade will you?’ Incarna looked up into the storage
 lockers in the wall, rummaged around, and produced a finely wrought
 Eldar sword. He suddenly looked at it in horror, as the matter of his
 hand seemed to melt away at the psychic material’s touch. He screamed
 in immortal agony as he was banished from the material realm. ‘Got
 you again, Raersch,’ said Matthawa, smiling to himself.

 A hush descended on the hall as the Tyranid envoy and his bodyguard
 strode into the room. The massive Hive Tyrant’s black carapace
 glistened in the light, and his fangs drooled lubricating slime.
 Servants from the citadel scuttled under him with small cloths,
 attempting to mop up the mess. Four Tyranid Warriors and a single
 Lictor stood ranged around him, scrutinising the room for signs of a
 threat. The five hundred Marines and humans in the room looked up at
 the sight of the six aliens. There were retching sounds as some of
 the weaker-willed servants sickened at the sight of them. Suddenly,
 every head turned as one towards the other side of the hall where the
 robed, unarmoured figures of Takant, Valerie and Matthawa entered
 from the Winding Stair. ‘Commander T’th’tok’ren’ko’shon-ta,’ said
 Takant, striding forwards and standing before the towering
 monstrocity, ‘Glad you could make it...’

 Commander Takant, Lieutenant Commander Valerie, Captain Jatro,
 Captain Karnan, Chief Librarian Matthawa, Master Reeyahr, Master
 Joran and Master Ouphous often enjoyed a game of four-a-side
 volleyball in the citadel grounds. They would wear specially made
 team strips, and so far Takant’s Destroyers were beating Reeyahr’s
 Fluffy Flower People sixteen matches to twelve. All was well, except
 that today, Incarna wanted to play. They had to bring in Brother
 Charn to make up the numbers. Most of the other volleyball players in
 the Chapter were too busy watching the second half of the Erestron
 Ork/Squat gungeyball finals. Charn jogged onto the field as two
 servants hung the net up. He shook his head, trying as ever to keep
 the plaintive cries of the spirits that infested him from distracting
 him. The rest of the Destroyers came on from the other entrance, and
 the five of them arrayed against Reeyahr, Jatro, Karnan, Matthawa and
 Incarna. The sight of the towering daemon prince in the flowery pink
 team strip almost made Charn’s eyes water. The game began. Valerie
 leapt fifteen feet into the air and smacked the ceramite ball so hard
 that when Jatro sprang to intercept it, it carried him back through
 the air and into the ground. She served again, and this time Incarna
 took the shot to the head. It bounced away, returned by Karnan, and
 the daemon staggered about. Takant volleyed the ball high into the
 air, and its downward force took it right through the metal floor.
 They got a new ball, and play resumed until Charn finally managed to
 leap and grab for the fast-moving sphere. He tried to grab for it but
 the telekinetic spirits got there first, winding bands of warp energy
 around the material and clinging to it. The residual momentum was
 enough to send him flying, and the spirits swirled about it fright
 (why the spirits had such a fear of heights Charn had never
 discovered). They swirled about, trying to find a purchase in the
 whistling air. With a crunch, he hit the wall fifty metres from the
 court, and was crushed into unconsciousness. As they did every time
 their host was incapacitated, the spirits screamed out of his body
 into a massive hurricane of power. They filled the games courtyard
 with energy, and groped at everything inside. The random force of
 their assault hurled Incarna out of the real world with a
 thunderclap, and the Marines were hurled to the floor. Takant waited
 for the tornado to calm down, and the spirits to return to the waking
 body of Charn, before turning to Jatro and muttering: ‘That’s the
 last time we let him play.’


Tim Fletcher

OK _SOMEBODY'S_ BEEN PLAYING _WAY_ TOO MUCH WARHAMMER 40K