Chapter Thirty-six

"The Eldar Shuriken Catapult is the most advanced personal firearms in the galaxy; shorter range than the Boltgun, less reliable than the Shoota, not as flexible as the Fleshborer, and with less armour penetration than the Gauss Flayer, the Shuriken Catapult is superior to all those. Why? Because it's Eldar - stop arguing!" - Random Autarch

After ten thousand years of unending binge drinking and wondering where they left their wallets (and in which dimension to boot), the Daemon Primarchs and their Daemonically-challenged brothers have ended the Long Stare-off and combined forces to combat the greatest evil known to the Warhammer 40,000 universe - the Forces of Retcon and their harbingers, the C'tan.

Having divided into six teams to locate and recover the six keys for the Gates of Varl carelessly lost by their long-lost stoner brother, Primarch Carl of the Eleventh Legion, the Fear Loathers, our (debatable) heroes race to defeat the C'tan by obtaining the only canon-verified way of travelling back in time and defeating the Star Gods when they were young (and without their undying servants) - the Fish of Time!

As our heroes enjoy the hospitality of Fabius Bile, trip out with a long-lost brother, take over a Tau outpost using nothing but a toothpick, stall the Nightbringer with the endless argument of Intel versus AMD, and take a breather on a Daemonworld, three Primarchs step into the arena to fight for their gaming system ...

The arena is vast, and full of screaming Orks waving foam hands and banners declaring their allegiance to their Warboss - Garlock the Awesome.

Corax: "So ... ideas?"

Perturabo: "We beat the ****ing crap out of them"

Dorn: "Elegant, Pert, elegant"

Perturabo: "You've got a better idea Lord Banana?"

Dorn: "Lets see who we're up against, Caine mentioned the Butcher and Karchev ..."

Corax: "That must be ... erm ... how big was Karchev?"

In the distance a giant, hulking figure walks out of the immense gates leading to the vast caverns beneath the arena (the area's quite large, by the way). Beside him a smaller, yet equally imposing figure walks carrying an axe as large as some Dreadnoughts, while on the opposite side a clunking behemoth of metal hisses green smoke and oozes slime out of every joint.

Perturabo: "Oh ... ****"

Dorn: "Someone's had upgrades ..."

The tallest figure comes to a stop before the Primarchs. He dwarfs even the immense bulk of the Daemon Perturabo, who's armour is made from bits of Warhound Titans wielded together using Daemonic arts.

Karchev the Mildly Imposing: "So ... these are the champions of the Dark Millennium? Pathetic. I've seen more balls on a cheerleader squad!"

Dorn: "Must have been the wrong kind of cheerleaders then"

Butcher of Cute Fluffy Animals: "Is that an insult? Say it like you've got a pair!"

Perturabo: "Why? What makes you think you're worth it?"

Liche Lord Terminus Cancer: "Becaussssse we have ballssssss"

Corax: "You guys seem to be somewhat obsessed with certain parts of the male anatomy ... is there something you want to talk about? Getting in touch with your emotions is the first step on the road to recovery, I feel"

Karchev slaps Corax away with a simple flick of his giant mechanical wrist.

Karchev: "Quiet! You lack balls pathetic creature"

Dorn: "Corax! You OK?"

Corax: "Jesus ... it's like getting bitch-slapped by an Warlord Titan! I'll be fine ..."

A cheer arises as Garlock takes the seat in his podium.

Garlock: "Before ya stan der best champeons of both worlds! Only one is good enuff to fight me! Let the battle komence!"

Karchev: Flexes his mechanical muscles. "You heard the man - fight like you've got a pair!"

Perturabo: "Enough with the testicular references already! It's just a table-top wargame, not a comparison of manliness!"

Karchev punches Perturabo in the stomach, sending the Primarch flying backwards vomting copius amounts of bile and gore in his passage.

Perturabo: "Crap ... knew I shouldn't have eaten those Squigs before the match ..."

The Butcher leans forwards and bull rushes Dorn, sending him flying backwards. As he struggles to pick himself up (it's not easy in Artificer Armour!) the Butcher raises his immense axe.

Butcher: "Meet Lola!"

Dorn: "Wha ... hi!"

The axe comes crashing down.

Corax: "DORN!" He's picked up by Terminus and beaten repeatedly into the ground.

Terminus: "Repeat after me: I - WILL - FEATURE - IN - A - GAME - WITH - DECENT - WRITTEN - RULES - AND - WHERE - I - NEVER - NEED - ROLL - MORE - THAN - TWO - DICE - AT - ANY - ONE - TIME!"

He slams Corax into the ground one final time, and the Primarch's body goes limp.

Terminus: "Well that was surprisingly easy ... need a hand Karchev?"

Kerchev: Pumeling Perturabo with repeated blows with his great metal fists. "Stay out of this Cryx scum! We only took you along because you're big and ugly! This battle's now in Khador hands!"

Terminus: "Suit yourself ... what?"

He spins around in amazement to see Corax picking himself off the ground.

Terminus: "You're still alive??!?"

Corax: "I told dad ... I would find the key ... I can go back ... fix my mistakes ... be able to stare my sons in the eyes again ... I can't lose this battle ... not now ... not ever ... LOSE? NEVERMORE!!!"

He screams and flings himself at Terminus who creates a huge magical shield to protect himself. Corax smashes a fist into the shield. Psychic energy crackles and tendrils of warp-stuff lash out.

Corax: "We may reduce all tactics into who can roll more dice, we may have rules that require extensive fan-made FAQs to patch up to working condition, and we may have models more expensive than collecting koi fish! But you know what? IT'S OUR HOBBY, SO SCREW YOU!"

The energy bursts and a bright light consumes both Primarch and Liche Lord. When it disappears Corax stands behind Terminus, as the Liche Lord stares down at a massive hole blasted straight through him.

Terminus: splutter

Garlock: "What's the power-reading Grotmina?"

Grotmina: He pokes a strange device, then crushes it. "IT'S OVER NINE THOUSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAANND!"

Garlock: "Nine thaasand? Bloody 'ell!"

Corax: Flexes his muscles. "Right, who's next?"

Perturabo: "No worries, got this one" Extends one metal fist and punches through the armour plating of Karchev to reach in and grab the wounded soldier within the giant metal shell. "So there you are. Like a giant Dreadnought really, aren't you?"

Karchev: "What? But I was winning!"

Perturabo: "And now you're not. Suck it up. Lose like you've got a pair" He squeezes his fist and crushes the squishy little Human. "Only Toughness 2 ..."

Oblivious to the defeat of his comrades, the Butcher continues to hack away at Dorn.

Butcher: "I'm a butcher and I'm O-K, I work all night and I work all day ..."

Dorn: Standing beside the Butcher. "Can I give you a hand?"

Butcher: "Sure ... what?!?!"

Dorn: Swings his Thunder Hammer in the Butcher's face, sending him flying thousands of feet into the air. "Fore!! I've always wanted to say that" He looks down at the mushed remains of the clone. "Handy"

Corax: "So that's not you?"

Dorn: "Nope. A little something I knocked up with spare bits of armour, some sticky-back plastic, cardboard, and a Squig"

Perturabo: "Wow ... can you teach me how to do that?"

Dorn: Stares at his brother for a moment. "Sure ... I can do that"

Garlock: "Apologies for interrupting this touching sibling moment, but the final battle is to commence!"

Corax: "What?!?! Don't we get half-time or something?"

Garlock: Jumps down to the centre of the arena and casts off the cloak he was wearing to reveal a huge mega armour bionik body. "Nah! You guys were good fighin, and I thinks to meself I wanna piece of that action!"

Perturabo: Calls his Daemon Weapon to his side. "Fair enough, bring it on Greenie!"

Somewhere many miles away ... a lone figure finally falls back to earth ...