The Toyhammer 40,000 Caretaker

Chapter 1

I have a Golf Club. Your argument is invalid.

Hey there guys, The Emperors Scribe 25 here. This is my first fic, so please go easy on the reviews. Also, where I'm from, (Canada, if anyone cares), being a dork on the internet is kinda looked down upon. So if you disagree with anything I say, please put it in a "Oh, BTW, you said this was this. It's actually this" format, instead of an 'Ermagerd you messed up on the lore! You suck! I hate you! Go die!" If you acknowledged this, I am far more likely to take your comment as a serious review, not an excuse to hate.

Anyway, without further ado, let us begin our first chapter!

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It is the 41st Millennium. And there is only war.

The God-Emperor lay writhing upon his Golden Throne, writhing with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is fed with the souls of a thousand every day, they die so he may live. A beacon of his glory, a guiding light, named the astronamicon, guides ships through the Warp, a realm of twisting emotions, feelings and desires.

Beyond the light of the Holy Astronamicon, alien races lurk and plot the downfall of humanity. They're twisted minds dictate that humanity is unworthy of its success.

Also battling them are the deities of Chaos. The four great lords of emotion. Khorne, god of blood, battle and rage-quiting. Nurgle, god of pestilence, rot and acne. Tzeentch, god of change, sorcery and nerd rage. (Why does Fateweaver increase his invuln. Save! GRAAAAHHHH!) And Slaanesh, god of excess, lust and Hedonism.

This is getting tedious, so I may as well end here. (Epic Plot Twist Music que)

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Erik made his way up the driveway to his new house, his stuff having been brought here already. He opened the door, and immediately noticed the smell of… smoke? He ran into the living room to stumble upon a warzone. Literally stumble as he nearly tripped over a Leman Russ Battle Tank. Hundreds of little aliens, humans and tanks battled it out. They were his Warhammer 40,000 collection.

Tau were using his bookshelf as a rally point, utilizing the higher shelves to support their ranged style of warfare. Orks ran around everywhere, while Imperial Guard were organizing several firing lines to hold back the unkillable Necrons. Meanwhile, the Eldar forces were taking pot-shots at Space Marines, who were doing a fine job of ignoring the shuriken projectiles altogether.

He looked over and noticed his porch was infested with Chaos of the Thousand Sons, World Eaters, Death Guard and Emperors Children. The different groups were trying to turn the each-other into so much ground beef. He looked down at the massive spectacle that made D-Day look like a water balloon fight, and yelled at everyone.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE!"

The different forces looked up at him and one of the guardsmen with an RPG shot at his leg. It sailed past me, and hit an ork, who sailed away screaming "I's can see ma 'ouse from 'ere!"

I watched as the Orks ran towards me and grabbed a golf club from the small stand, and wacked a tank with it, causing it to sail into the Warboss, who was crushed to a bloody smear. The rest of the Orks looked up at me in awe, and one shouted "Dat guy just killed da boss! E's da new boss!"

"Alright, I want all leaders of the forces to meet me at the dinner table NOW!" he yelled at the forces, then made his way over to the table, dodging a small walker that had trundled into his leg.

10 minutes and several golf club induced injuries later:

Eric looked at the freak show that was the army leaders. There was a pretty-boy looking space marine commander who looked as though he was going to kill everything else at the table.

The Imperial guard commander looked like an utter badass with an Ork Power-Klaw as an arm, while his retinue, consisting of several grunts who were probably there as meat-shields, a man in a trenchcoat who fit the WWII Soviet Commander look perfectly, a bald, priestly looking guy with a big-ass chainsaw sword that could have cut a Jeep in half, and a creepy girl in a white robe, stood there sizing up the competition.

The space marine spoke up. "I am 2nd Captain Cato Sicarius of the Ultramarines. My superiors, 1st captain Dornath Lysander of the Imperial Fists, and Grand Master Belial of the Dark Angels Deathwing company, sent me here as the envoy."

The General was next: "I am Commissar Yarrick of Armageddon. My allies, Knight Commander Pask of Cadia and Colonel Straken of Catachan, chose me to speak in favor of Army-Group 5116."

The Tau spoke:

"I am Shas' El Ario'Vanatasor' Buelos… I belive my name means "Flamesword' in your language. This is Ethereal Guer' Talos, Kroot Shaper Ungerok and Vespid Wing-Master Dielion."

The Orks:

"I's Warlord Krusha da Stompa, an dis is Mekboy Rustmonga and Warp 'ead Zappz."

The Necrons:

"I am Phaeron Vai'Kitrovi. This is Vargard Talmast and Overlords Vanis' Yoronis and Beris' Toloron."

The Eldar:

"I am Farseer Varasi of the Craftworld Biel-Tan, Mon-Keigh."

"Please refrain from calling me that. I have the ability to crush even your precious Wraithknight."

She looked at me incredulously. "How do you know…"

"I… I just know, ok!"

Chaos looked up at me

I looked at the map of the house. "Okay, the Eldar get the downstairs bathroom, the Imperial Guard get the living room, the Tau get the kitchen, The Necrons get the… ummmm… ventilation ducts? Uurrrm, the Space marines get the left over bedroom and the Orks get the basement. If you have any objections, speak up now please…" I turn around to see the IG already building a small set of barracks while tanks started to tow the damaged vehicles toward the mechanicus tents made from what appeared to be printer paper and popsicle sticks.

I watched as dozens of transports blasted away at full speed, when suddenly an Imperial guard tank blasted an Eldar Wave Serpent with its turret mounted Heavy Bolter.

"OH YOU'VE GOT TO BE F***ING KIDDING ME!"