Thursday, December 23, 2010

Another Xmas Tale

Another tale I picked up off of some board or other many years ago when the internet still had that new web smell.

A Christmas Warning
Attributed to Pat Marstall

Begin Transmission Repetition of General Directive 264-A-XCIV
To: Distribution, Sectorium Primus From: Office of The Grand Inquisitor, Ebineezar Grinchanius Re: Yearly Chaos Incursion This purpose of this notice is to remind the forgetful of the annual visitation by the minion of Chaos known to the unworthy as Santa Claus.
+++ The Emperor's Light Banishes the Shadows of Heresy +++

As the diligent will recall, the incursion occurs regularly every 8742 to 8766 terran hours, roughly corresponding to a terran year. This trespass has occurred with disturbing regularity since at least the Horus Heresy, and perhaps longer, as many records were misplaced. +++ Love and Obey the Emperor +++ The faithful will recognize the target on sight, as his garb and gear mark him immediately as an agent of the abominations.
Santa Claus is a corpulent, bloated creature approximating the human form. It wears a crimson tunic the color of fresh blood, marking him as a possible follower of Khorne. It is bearded, mocking the honorable squats, and its hair is a sallow shade of gray, betraying its unnatural age. Be advised that despite the creatures fearsome name, no claws have been observed, and the former is likely a ruse. The target has been observed in the company of smaller creatures having the appearance of thin (less than 30 kg, approx.), stunted (1.5 meters) humanoids with pointed ears. Their appearance suggests the involvement of the decadent Eldar, and although that race denies involvement (*reference the Rudolphian Campaign [index 4111-BGE-MMXCII-Primus], specifically the Battle of Yukon Coneliaus IV [ibid., index 6]*), agents are advised to be prepared for their involvement, as the Eldar are known for their deceitful ways.
Santa Claus is conveyed by means of a grav-sled powered by unnatural livestock as detailed below. The target's vehicle is a grav-sled. It has superfluous runners which are used only on landing and take-off. Despite the appearance, no frozen water is necessary for its operation (another ruse). The vehicle's resemblance to the foul Palanquin of Nurgle should not be discounted, even though the colors continue to be reminiscent of Khorne. The device is powered by the unholy ministrations of eight or nine quadrupeds. Ordo Malleus scholars have identified these creatures as warped versions of an extinct species of terran mammal known as a Moose (reference 900002-ER-CIV). These beings single-mindedly pull the target's vehicle during its yearly invasion. They are outfitted with belled harnesses which are apparently imbued with the ability of flight. These beasts have been likened to the Fiends of Slaanesh, and such a comparison should not be dismissed too lightly, as the creatures shed a luminous substance as effluent as they move. Inquisitors should take care to avoid exposure.
Perhaps more disturbing is the variable number of the minion-creatures. On occasion, a ninth Moose has been observed, placed before the other Moose. This creature radiates a sickly reddish glow from its snout, as a psychic beacon to other followers of the Vile Ones. This Chaotic device has allowed the target to navigate despite our best efforts to jam its navigation systems.
+++ Blessed is the Virtue of Blind Faith +++
Santa Claus gains entry to the domiciles of loyal Imperial Citizens (see below) and leaves small Chaos Rewards to tempt the faithful. Inquisitors are reminded to confiscate and incinerate these items before any lasting damage is done. As a localized temporal distortion field is in effect around the target, these items are secreted in the habitations of the Imperium at exactly 2400 hours in every location defiled by the creature. It is therefore possible to gain entry to the citizens' cretches and remove the items (often cunningly hidden in footwear) before the citizens are aware of the heresy that has been committed upon them. In other cases, removal of the items after the citizens have discovered them is possible. In such situations, small children are occasionally loath to surrender the items, as the tainting of the juveniles has already begun.
Executions of the above are to be handled in the most expedient manner possible. Often, juveniles that are well within the Emperor's Grace are given small blocks of graphite ore rather than the more tempting gifts visited upon the less faithful. The identity of these individuals are to be recorded, as future recruitment into the Inquisition or Adeptus Terra is possible. [Note: Inquisitors or other agents who do *not* receive the graphite stones should be watched carefully]
Santa Claus enters the domiciles be way of heating ducts and waste vents. The size of the opening is not a factor, as the creature can adjust its mass and displacement by means of psychic manipulation. Mining these openings with frag, krak and other demolitions has proven unsuccessful. The creature egresses by the same means, after ritually caressing his nostrils. No mucus has ever been recovered.
+++ The Death of Emperor's Enemies is the Only Gift We Can Give +++
Although all previous attempts at the destruction of Santa Claus have failed, Inquisitors are urged to make such an attempt whenever possible. However, of more importance is the suppression of cultist activity associated with the yearly incursion. The Tainted have been known to erect shrines in their homes in the form of shrubbery adorned with baubles and lights [Note: the shrubbery is often highly flammable, and offers a discrete method of executing the offending heretics without calling undue attention to the operation]. Other warning signs include: hallucinations involving sugared candies during slumber; excessive singing; references to 'A magical time of year' (note the influence of Tzeentch); the construction of effigies made of snow; and the performance of Slaanishi rituals while underneath plant clippings of the genus _phoradendron flavescens_. Once again, executions should be handled in an expedient manner. End Transmission

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

40K Xmas "The Night Before 986996.M41"

I found some nice writings many years ago and have kept them ever since. I thought I'd share a couple with you before Christmas arrives. Here's the first one...

The Night Before 986996.M41
by Patrick Marstall

'Twas the night before 986996.M41, and all through the station
All there was clear, there was no abomination.

My helmet was set on the desk to my right,
On the chance that I was to need it that night.

The guardsmen were ensconced, asleep in their beds,
All the tanks too were safe, secure in the sheds.

Marines in the barracks, some manning the wall,
Assured me that the bastion never would fall.

When out in the yard there arose such discord
I grabbed up my bolter and unsheathed my sword.

Away to the window, I ran to take aim
As the marines around me all did the same.

My bionic eye turned the night into day
Allowed me to see, and to seek out my prey.

When what did my loyalist ocular show,
But an ancient conveyance, knee-deep in the snow.

The vehicle was pulled by horned quadrupeds
And a fiery red nimbus glowed from the sled.

The driver was mighty, his eyes full of scorn,
Dressed all in crimson like a servant of Khorne.

I gestured for other to shoot without pause,
For I was now certain this was Santa Claus.

"Fire Marines! Fire Guardsmen! Fire Ogryn and Ratlings!
Fire bolters! Fire lasguns! Fire mortars and gatlings!"

"You in the courtyard and you men on the walls!
Now blast away! Blast away! Blast away all!"

But all through this maelstrom the evil one flew,
Past plasma and bolt shells and frag that we threw!

And then, to my horror, I heard on the roof
The vile cavorting of each decadent hoof.

Screaming my orders, I spun quickly around,
As down the chimney shaft it came with a bound.

I saw its eyes glow, its vast stomach gurgle,
Bloated and fat, like a deamon of Nurgle.

Blinded by anger, I attacked with a scream -
Charged into battle with my brave space marines.

As we thundered towards him, closing the rift,
He reached in his satchel and pulled out a gift.

Then it tossed the vile boxes - I fell in a stoop,
As they arced through the air at me and my troops.

The wrapped missiles fell short, and plopped at our feet,
Our morale was quite strong, we did not retreat.

But the marines paused - our charge was disrupted,
They picked up the gifts and were quickly corrupted.

For each box contained a chaotic present -
The marines (damn their souls), found them quite pleasant.

A bolter, a flamer, a new power fist,
The Claus gave to all, and he checked off a list.

It moved through the station and left in its wake,
The sound of bright laughter and the stench of fruitcake.

The others succumbed, but it failed in its goal,
For to me it gave only a small pile of coal.

The station was lost, I could only instruct
The bastion computer to set self-destruct.

I failed to kill him, for I saw as I fled,
The target escaping, quite safe in his sled.

I heard it cry out as the base burst into light,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

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