What started as a discussion about crunch vs fluff led to Wraithlords and how totally fabulous they were. The only logical progression in a fluff thread is to rape said fluff and it started when some namefag tried to fit a Wraithlord into a Space Marines army, Angry Marines no less.
The following documents the tale of mentor Sergeant Davius or as he has come to be known, Dave Eldar.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT DO YOU MEAN WE HAVE TO SPY ON THOSE SHITSUCKING ELDAR?! THEY'RE FUCKING PUSSIES! FUCK SPYING ON THEM! WE NEED TO DEPLOY THE FUCKING FINGER!!!"
Veteran Sergeant Max Angricuss paced the deck, punching a servitor in the back of the head just to vent some of the frustration flowing in his veins. The Inquisitors face remained somewhat calm as he watched the servitor's skull explode forward in a spray of machine fluid and brain matter, but stood his ground. Yes, Inquisitor Misingus Pint had dealt with this sort of cussing before. It was a known fact that the Angry Marines were wild and unpredictable bunch, but they were well known for completing their mission.
More or less.
"We feel that it would be easier for your scouts to infiltrate the craftworld. If I'm not mistaken, you have the same color scheme as the Iyaden, and I'm sure you have compet-"
"WHAT THE PISSSHITTING HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! YOU STUPID COCKSUCKER! WE DON'T HAVE ANY SCOUTS!!"
"WE BORROW THEM, SHITFACE!"
Misingus Pint raised an eyebrow, tapping the skull topped Power-cane holstered on his hip. "You... borrow your scouts?"
Angricus punched the wall with his powerfist. "I JUST SAID THAT YOU COCK MONGLING SHIT FOR BRAINS!" He wanted to lunge forward and headbutt the moronic looking Inquisitor in the skull, but found that his powerfist had become stuck in the metal bulkhead of the ship. "FUCKING SHIT! STUPID FUCKING SHIP! STUPID FUCKING COCKSUCKING INQUISITOR! SHIT!"
"May I at least speak to the scouts...?"
Angricus paused, trying to let the rage help him think for all of four seconds. It didn't work that well.
"FINE. FUCK OFF AND FIND THEM, THEN."
Mentors Sergeant Davius rubbed his face as he watched the meager handful of scouts go through their daily rituals. Having been in transit to...Emperor knows where...was starting to wear on even the old mind. He'd said his litanies, worked and cleaned his weapons, prayed, led his men through training...It was all they could do to keep in top shape, and the other scouts had lost something in the holds of the Angry Marines ship. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he'd warrant a guess that it was something a Space Marine should not have to worry about.
He'd tried to contact at least - someone - and ask where they were going, but not one Angry Marine Commander (Or any for that matter) deigned to give him the time of day. He was equally starting to worry about his men. They'd been picking up the habits of cussing at the slightest provocation, and yelling and fistfights had become common between his men and the Angry Marines.
He'd barely dragged the last scout to sick bay before one of the Angry Marines had flattened him into a bloody paste with a Powerfist finger. He dared not ask the scout exactly what was going on.
"Sergeant Davius? Is there a Sergeant Davius here?"
The sound of a voice cracked the dull hum of voices in the hold, causing one of his scouts to jump at the sudden intrusion, followed by a lengthy and somewhat quiet string of cusses from the seemingly young man. Davius stood warily as he saw the Inquisitor, rising to meet the fairly simple looking man.
"Do you know where I can find Sergeant Davius? I Can't seem to get anyone to show me where the Scouts are located."
Davius blinked a few times before his head fell into his hand. Emperor protect us, he thought. They've sent an idiot.
"I am Sergeant Davius, Inquisitor. What do you need of us?"
"Ah! You're the sergeant! I'm sorry, I thought I was on the Engine level."
"...This is the Engine Level."
"Oh... Well then." The Inquisitor tapped his cane once more, stepping forward. "I am Misingus Pint of the Ordo Xenos. I am ordering you to infiltrate the Eldar Craftworld of Iyanden and observe them, You will be provided specialized grafts that will help you blend in better with the population. We haven't much time and-"
Davius lifted his hand once more to stay the Inqiusitor from continuing. "Grafts, Inquisitor? I'm sure that my scouts and I are more than competent enough to hide ourselves in one of their forests unseen. I've dealt with these vile xenos before on Avidus Prime and I can tell you that-"
The Inquisitor's laugh rang out through the small cabin, causing another scout to bite his lip in a quiet rage at having messed up his linaty. Davius reminded himself to speak to the men later about controlling their anger. Perhaps contacting one of the chaplains-
"Oh no, Sergeant," Misingus continued, patting the larger man's shoulder, "you won't be hiding from the Eldar. In fact, you'll be living with them! I want you," he said, taking a breath and wrapping his arm around the mans neck, leading him out into the hall, "To infiltrate their very society! I'm trying to learn about them by sending in decoy Xenos!" Another laugh rang out as Davius' jaw dropped, his eyebrows creased into a very concerned scowl.
"Are you...Are you suggesting that we go live with these...These xenos?! Forgive my tongue, Inquisitor Pint, but are you mad!? They are the enemy!! Our duty is to cleanse their vile filth in His Glorious Name!! I cannot believe that you would even think for once tha-"
The Inquisitor held his hand up, shaking his head as he slipped away from the enraged scout. "I don't want to hear another word, Sergeant! You have been given an order, and I expect you and your team to be ready within the next four hours."
"FOUR HOURS?!? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA THE PREPARATIONS IT TAKES TO-"
"Four Hours. You are to report to medical for the grafts." Misingus nodded once, a broad smile on his face as he uttered no further words, and walked away.
Davius' jaw clenched as he turned back to his squad. The nerve of that man! To send him and his squad in on such short notice...
"GET YOUR GEAR TOGETHER AND HEAD TO MEDICA!" His throat hurt from yelling so loud, but the squad snapped to a lot faster that way. Perhaps they had learned something from the Angry Marines.
Davius had calmed considerably on his way to medical, his squad tromping behind him, passing the armored yellow giants of the Angry Marines on their way down to the Med Deck. His lips automatically went through the Litanies of Calm Mind that he'd learned from his Chaplain... How long ago was that? It certainly had been some time. What could have passed for a sigh slipped through his form, turning back to the rest of his squad. If what the Inquisitor had said was true, then they wouldn't have even HALF of their equipment, let alone their basic armaments, armor, detpacks, grenades...
He wouldn't be surprised if they were all shot on sight for being humans. Just how was that stupid Inquisitor going to pull this off?
Max Angricuss viewed the tiny world ship through the view screen, gritting his teeth as he squeezed what he liked to call his "Anger Servitor". The poor manmachine was a bloody single rod, the work of an hours rage at watching this Inquisitor Waltz onto his strike cruiser and take the only squad of scouts that HE needed for a mission.
Angry Marines fucking loved battle, but they weren't stupid. The Scout squad actually took out the bigger stuff with missiles and those stinking morons who just didn't seem to die no matter how many times you skull fucked them with a powerbat.
The Old veteran couldn't help but crack a menacing grin at the thought of simply disregarding the petulant cocksucker and attempting to nuke the Worldship, but something stayed his hand. Perhaps it was simply the thought of seeing those sniveling little scout faggots with pointy ears.
Angricuss let out loud, mirthful bellow of a laugh.
"Yes, that's right! Prisoners of War!" Misingus said, his finger rising and falling as to each word as he attempted to drive his point home with all the subtly of a Khornate Berserker. "You're going to 'resume' your lives on this craftworld, and see what you can't learn about the Eldar! I think you're going to find lots of secrets about them!"
Davius looked up at the jaded Inquisitor, scratching the pointed ears he'd been given. In all his years of training, in all his decades of leading men into battle, in all of the inspiring and powerful figures he'd worked with in his 150 years of life...
This had to be the most moronic dipshit he'd ever had the displeasure of even meeting, let alone working under. Davius jaw clicked as his teeth clamped his immediate response from sputtering uselessly out of his mouth.
This wasn't simply a mission. This was suicide. Pointless suicide at that.
"If I might ask sir, just how are we supposed to convince the Eldar that we actually ARE their missing kin?"
The Inquisitor spun on his heel, his large eyes snapping onto Davius like a Catachan Devil. "Simple, my dear Sergeant! You have the physique of the Eldar, now all you need are the names!" The Inquisitors laugh rang out once more, causing two of his scouts to repeat the Litanies of Calm Mind as quickly as they could while a vein popped visibly on the top and sides of their head.
"You do realize that we would dwarf the Eldar, Inquisitor?"
"That's what the ears are for! We'll just tell them that you insisted on eating well."
Davius closed his eyes, his jaw seeming to drop at every other ludicrous word that this man was speaking. "...Eating well? Are you... You're expecting them to believe that we are simply 'Fat'?"
"Yes. Is there a problem with that, Sergeant?"
Davius' shoulders slumped as he stared at Misingus. There had to be something that he could accuse this man of. Something that would spare him and his squad the indignity of having to go to their deaths for a meaningless, mindless, and utterly childish plan.
Everyone of those thoughts left him after he realized that this man was an Inquisitor. And he was simply a Space Marine Scout far from his Chapter.
Emperor protect them. They were thoroughly fucked.
"Now, here's how the exchange will happen. We've contacted the Worldship to let them know that we have several of their people on board. They've demanded to see you, but we instead given them your names, instead."
Davius' head snapped up. Perhaps this one wasn't as stupid as he seemed. "Did it work?"
Misingus nodded, his smile creasing his worn face as he clasped his hands together. "They were a little skeptical at first, but then they agreed to meet on neutral ground! We even have names to give you!"
Davius said a silent prayer to the Emperor at their luck, and the rest of the squad let out varying degrees of relief. Brother Fantus let out a cry of "FUCKING THANK YOU!", while Hastur started to laugh at the simplicity of it all.
Misingus handed out the few Dataplates he'd kept on a table nearby, giving the first to Davius. The Sergeants relief turned to horror as he stared at the name on his Dataplate, his head slowly shaking as a single artery started to swell in his neck.
- Name: Dave Eldar
- Sex: Male
- Hobbies: Shooting Shuriken Catapults, Doing Eldar things
- Homeworld: Iyanden, the Artist section part
It went on, listing inane, simple, and utterly redundant subjects such as "Favorite color on a Tuesday". Davius had to forcibly remind himself that the Eldar had actually fallen for this.
Which, he reminded himself, had to be the deepest pile of Carthinan Groxshit he'd ever heard.
Misingus Thero Pint had had a lot of vast and wonderful encounters during his days as a Member of the Ordo Xenos. Somehow, he'd always found the Eldar were more than willing to let him on their ships. He was never sure why, but he always chalked it up to his charm, wit, and his knowledge of the ways of the Eldar Race.
He even made sure to bop himself on the head in the traditional greeting of the Eldar as the two dignitaries approached, accompanied by a small force of Guardians. They stark gray of his trenchcoat stood out against the simple gaudy yellow and blue of the Eldar before him, and he smiled after another friendly bop to his noggin.
"Ah, good day and salutations, my friends! I think-"
"Let us see them," the lead Eldar, a pompous faced warlock in deep purple and blue robes, shouted out, nodding for the man to step out of the way. "I wish to see this 'Bob Eldar', if you will."
Misingus nodded, waving to one of the scouts. Barrod stepped forward, one of the larger scouts in the group (He always seemed like a better shot with a missile launcher than the rest), grunting a short hello as he stooped to hide his form as best he could. Misingus prodded the man forward, even going so far as to hit the man on the back of the head when he started to argue in silent frustration with the man.
"See? Bob's doing fine and so are the rest of them! I'm sure we've worked out our part of the deal, then, yes? Did you bring what I asked?"
The warlock's graceful eyes lifted in disdain as he watched the stooped over scout try and shrink himself as small as possible by slumping his shoulders and neck, his feet quietly scuffing the metal of the bulkhead as he sought desperately to be reunited in the relative safety of his squad.
"I'm...Sure that Bob, Dave, James, and the rest of the...Eldar Brothers will enjoy returning home. As for your end of the deal..."
The other Warlock stepped forward, as indistinguishable from the first (One might say that they were a mirror image), producing a long, black box that had been standing behind him. It was large, coming up to about the Warlock's mid chest. Misingus toppled Barrod over in his haste to make for the box, but the first warlock's blade stopped him.
"You will hold until we have all of our Prisoners!"
Davius bit his lip, his mind flying through the various ways that he was about to die. He chanced a glance over at two of his squadmates, Hastur and Carten. Hastur's eyes flew between the squad of Guardians with their weapons leveled at them, to the Warlock's humming Witchblade. Carten had his lower lip in his mouth, small pearls of blood curling down his chin as he tempted his lungs to calm their furious intake of air. Davius feared that he was looking at his squad for the last time, and his eyes closed, begging the Emperor for forgiveness...
"Come forward, lost brothers...And we shall leave this bumbling old man..."
Davius' eyes snapped open in time to see Misingus slowly taking a step away from the blade, hands held up at his waist as he nodded politely to the Warlock. The squad froze, and all eyes were on Davius as he hesitated for a half second. Emperor, protect me, he prayed as he made a careful shuffling towards the guardians, denying the years of training he'd come to rely upon as a second instinct as he passed the Warlock who'd drawn his blade.
It was a sheer force of will for the rest of the squad to follow the sergeant, each passing the Warlock with a greater hesitation than the last. Barrod was last to cross his path, having tried to squeeze towards the back of the path after Misingus had rushed forward to claim his prize. Davius did his best to turn his head, trying not to draw attention to himself as Hastur and Carten quickly flanked him, watching in horror as Barrod's large form hulked beside the Warlock, bumping the Eldar's leg as he passed.
The Warlock merely frowned, watching as Barrod froze, still clad in nothing but the simple cloth shirt and pants he'd been given along with the rest of them. His other hand rose, hovering over Barrod's shoulder a moment...
...before coming down in a simple, familial pat. "Hurry along now, 'Bob'. It seems they -have- been feeding you a little much..."
Davius' mind worked at what had just happened. There had to be a catch. There had to be something that had allowed them to pass off as Eldar. He turned his eyes to Misinugs, searching the Inquisitors eyes as the Guardians and the Warlock lowered their weapons.
Misingus merely grinned, clutching the large, black metal box in his hands. He gave a friendly wave as Davius and his men started walking backwards, before turning to follow the Eldar into the ship 'home.'