This is the Liber Astartes, PART II

[Dosjetka]

I hope that you don't mind the inclusion into the mishap, Aquilanus ;)

[Aqui]

I hope that you don't mind the inclusion into the mishap, Aquilanus

Not at all It's quite amazing that this topic is still going!

[Olis]

This just would not do. Granted, there was scuffles all the time in the Liber, but this wasn't just a scuffle. It was practically a bar-room brawl now. Olis nodded to Messor. Time to enforce some civility.

 

A chair wrapped itself around Heru's skull and his plate of food made a break for the door. At the epicentre of the fight Ludovic and Aquilanus traded blows with the Wolves, slowly getting worn down by the numbers alone. For what it was worth it seemed Aquilanus was enjoying it almost as much as the Wolves were. SanguiniusReborn was busy beating the snot out of a fallen red haired Wolf, seperated from the pack and taken by surprise by the Liberite while he reached for a plastek knife. 

 

Tables had flipped, food was escaping and more than one Liberite had been knocked out. Bedlam. Bloody bedlam. Messor waded in to separate the combatants, but the sound of his Volkite going off brought everyone's attention to Olis. He coughed a little as dust from the ceiling drifted from the new hole there. 

 

"Enough." He ordered. A Space Wolf took the opportunity to punch Ludovic in the face, all the while looking straight at the Moderati. Olis unlimbered his Banhammer and strode over to the grizzled, grinning astartes. He lifted the marine's chin with the head of the Banhammer, the smile slowly dissipating as it was pushed harder.

 

"I will not repeat myself." The Wolf looked as if he might take offence to the treatment - his better judgement prevailed. He let go of Ludovic, whose nose-bleed matched his own now. 

[Heru]

A chair wrapped itself around Heru's skull and his plate of food made a break for the door.

The former was mildly annoying, the latter a relief.

[Ace Debonair]

Ace clumped along gleefully to the Confiscation Cabinet. There was bound to be something in there capable of reducing that thrice-damned oven to it's component atoms. The Moderati had built up quite the esoteric collection of weapons over the years, Ace knew.

 

Arriving at the tall, forbidding cabinet, wrought of blackened iron and graven stone, Ace hummed a jaunty little tune as he turned the key in the lock. Pulling the door open wide, he was confused to find the interior of the cabinet was not a simple series of shelves, but instead a steeply sloping staircase that spiralled into subterranean shade and stygian squalor.

 

On the one hand, going in there looked like a supremely bad idea. On the other hand, that oven wasn't going to destroy itself.

 

Ace stumped stubbornly down the steeply sloping stairway that spiralled into subterranean shade and stygian squalor, supposing that a supply of select stuff must be situated at the end.

 

However, Ace was to be disappointed. There was a dank cellar that smelt of old vegetables, and a handful of serfs who were industriously polishing a phalanx of empty shelves.

 

"Hey, what happened to all the cool stuff?" Ace frowned. "There should be a ton of neat weapons down here."

 

One of the serfs bowed nervously.

"Please, m'lord, but the Moderati moved them all to the armoury last week, m'lord."

 

"Oh. But Olisredan gave me this key so I coul-" Ace stopped as realisation hit him. Olis had been gone for a little while and might not have known about the move. "Blast." Ace scowled. As he turned to go, the serf called out;

 

"If it's the armoury you need, m'lord, I could loan you my key. I'm required to keep the place clean. you see."

 

Ace closed his eyes for a moment and thanked the Emperor and whichever Primarch was behind this particular little miracle. Taking the key with the reverence of an Ultramarine picking up the original Codex Astartes, Ace could swear he could hear the choirs of heaven rejoicing in his head as he stumped out of the cabinet, and resolved to have his head inspected by the apothecarium  just as soon as that blasted oven paid for it's transgressions.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

 

Arriving at the Armoury, Ace took a deep breath before unlocking the door and going inside. The Armoury, like so many other places in the Liber, beggared description. The best way Ace could sum it up in his head was:

 

"How extraordinary!"

 

With the Liber being what it was, the vast array of weapon and armour stands that stretched into the distance bore the marks of hundreds of Chapters, some of whom had died long before the days of the Liber's creation. Others still came from Chapters that would never exist, or were only half-understood. Within these vast, pale-golden halls, lit with the flaring brilliance of a hundred ornate chandeliers, Ace wandered from stand to stand looking at the marvellous works that his brothers in art had created.

 

There was artificer armour painted in the colours of the Iron Wardens, the purple and grey polished almost to a mirror finish. Over there was a power sword made in the forges of the Hounds of the Hunt, decorated with runes and chipped where it had seen fierce battle. On yet another stand was resplendent, pristine armour painted in the heraldries of the Black Eagles, the Emerald Tigers, the Ice Lords, the Blades, the Iron Raptors, two completely different Steel Dragons, the Purifiers...

 

Further over, armour crafted by renegades and traitors stood assembled on stands, given the same care and maintenance as any loyalist's gear. It always amazed visitors to the Liber, but here was perhaps the one place in the galaxy were the sworn foes of the Corpse God and the Emperor's Angels of Death could actually look at each other as equals and co-workers, if not always friends. Ace recognized only a few of the armours. There was a beaten suit of armour taken from the Iron Gods, patches of repair still semi-visible under the paint. A pair of shoulderpads taken from the Legio Solemnitas, still displaying signs of tarnish despite the fresh paint. A bolter, decorated with the insignia of the Black Oracles. A suit of power armour identifiable as belonging to the Reavers of Bahltimyr. Ace spent a moment admiring the craftsmanship on a pair of large, unmarked combat knives before shrugging and moving on once more.

 

On a nearby table lay a scattering of weapons, including a Mayneson-pattern Chainsword, a slightly curved weapon traditionally used by the Infinity Knights Chapter, but painted in the heraldry of the Legio Bolter and Chainsword. Ace grinned and picked up the familiar blade, hefting it and examining the elaborate carvings on the hilt. Something compelled him to put the sword down and keep walking, however.

 

There was another table just across from the first. This one was much less heavily-laden. Two bolt pistols lay either side of a grand red cushioned display case, both bearing the heraldry of the Legio. Ace lifted the lid of the display case, and picked up what was unmistakably a vortex grenade.

 

"Right then."

 

Ace felt a hint of a presence watching him. As a Techmarine, it felt akin to knowing when a machine spirit was watching you. He couldn't see anyone else, but felt compelled to say a few words to the empty air.

 

"Brothers, I go forth to vanquish a rogue oven. I have need of this hallowed device, as all lesser weapons have failed me. I hope you're all cool with that."

 

Silence.

 

"I'm gonna take that as an 'OK'. "

 

More silence.

 

Ace saluted, on the basis a salute was never a bad idea, and set off for the exit. Locking the door behind him, the apprentice techmarine stumped back towards the Culinarium, the light of battle in his eyes.

 

Things were about to heat up for that oven. Oh yes.

[Olis]

A yarn nicely turned, brother. I like how you dealt with the 'confiscation cabinet' ;)

[Ace Debonair]

I had more fun with the armoury, to be honest.

I also had to delete about two-thirds of the stuff I'd written about in there because I'd listed about twenty-five loyalists and four traitors.

[Olis]

Ain't no harm in enjoying the the Liber's Armoury, brother. The relics and wargear there are the envy of the galaxy!

 

It's probably for the best you used the delete button - just reeling off a big list of stuff is kinda dry reading. ;)

[Ace Debonair]

Also imagination can do a much better job of filling that room than I can, and much faster.

 

Now, free time willing, the next step is to blow up that damnable oven.

 

 

 

...There's a sentence I never thought I'd say.

[Brother Argent]

Funny, this thread seems to be full of those...

[Brother Cambrius]

Cambrius marvelled at the mess being cleaned up by the serfs within the Liber's Culinarum as he took a swig from the questionably wriggling Dark Ale in his tankard. He'd never seen a Grox Curry and a Mixed Grill fighting each other on the floor for supremacy, whilst an unfortunate, wizened and tired-looking serf attempted to mop them away. The Son of Doom had missed a lot of time in the Liber after disappearing to help chronicle the ill-fated last stand of the Black Swans chapter, keeping a watchful eye on the serf reporting on the outcome and honours of the Avenging Fists.

 

Last time he'd been in the Liber, it had been moved to the Legio's basement and now it was slap bang alongside the Halls where the great stories of the numerous Astartes, both Loyalist and Traitor were recorded and written, along with the discussion and creation of battle tactics to further bolster, or to go against Guilliman's Codex were created. No longer was the Liber kept amongst the rest of the Imperium's Chapters, much to their combined approval and relief. Cambrius didn't mind the move either, the Liber's Heraldry Department was now much closer to the Halls of Honour, where he could observe and record new Chapter heraldries being displayed and created.

 

His Astartes sensitive hearing picked up the distinctive thump of Ace's approach as Cambrius took another cautious swig form his tankard. He saw Olisredan's face go from controlled order to mild surprise and concern within microseconds as Ace came to the door, raising what Cambrius identified with a slight gasp of shocked worry as a Vortex Grenade. Surely Olisredan didn't permit Ace to use that weapon of doom?! The Moderator's face answered the question for him as Olisredan began to drum his fingers with annoyance along the head of his Banhammer as he held it beneath his arms at rest. Holding the Vortex Grenade high as if it was a weapon given to him by the Emperor himself, Ace declared,

 

"Fear not brothers! The tyranny of the Oven shall be at an end with this Vortex Grenade!"

 

As the words left his mouth, pandemonium made itself known in the Culinarum as serfs and foodstuffs scrabbled for the nearest exit and Ludovic raised what looked like a Power Rolling Pin in defiance...

 

+++++++++++++

 

About time I wrote something in here again!

 

Cambrius

Edited November 19, 2013 by Brother Cambrius

[Dosjetka]

Power rolling pin :lol:

 

Nice one, Cambrius, and welcome back!

[Reyner]

Sitting in the dark corner of the culinarium Reyner had been watching the havoc with the oven unfold for some time. What remained of his food had been assembled into a small defensive wall on his plate, he had eaten what he could but decided the stuff would be put to better use testing new breaching patterns. The Liber always managed to entertain him - something mad was always going on in this place. A vortex grenade in theory would destroy the oven and the majority of the culinarium but there was something about the unnatural glow that he had seen before, something ancient and full of malice had taken up residence in that oven. He would have to enquire about where it came from. Leaning back in his chair Reyner sat back and awaited the madness that was about to be unleashed.

[Dosjetka]

As soon as his eyes landed on Ace and that thrice-damned Vortex grenade, Ludovic realised that he had little time to act. Picking himself up from the ground, he bolted towards the Techmarine who was moving towards Olisredan, arm extended and key dangling from his fingers. His intent was to return the keys to the Moderator.

Ludovic had other plans.

He lunged forward, ripping key and gauntlet from the Techmarine's hand, and then sprinted out of the Culinarium and down the dark corridors to the Armoury. Barging through the doors, he ran as fast as his genetically-enhanced body would allow, charging past startled serfs and rows upon rows of equipment. Artificer armour, relics from before the Horus Heresy, bolt casings from the Primarch Guilliman's own weapon; all of this he ignored. However, as he turned his head to make sure he wasn't being followed, he failed to notice the towering Astartes standing in his way at the end of that particular corridor. For the second time that day, Ludovic found himself on the floor, tangled up with another Astartes. He got up quickly and extended a hand to help the other to his feet. It was then that Ludovic realised that this time, that other Astartes was not just Aquilanus or another brother from the halls of the Liber or even just a Techmarine from the Armoury: it was a Master of the Forge.

Ludovic blinked and swallowed hard, trying not to show his fear state of worry.

The Master of the Forge.

Brother Argos.

* * * * * * * *

I've got something planned, so please don't detonate that damned Vortex grenade or go anywhere near my kitchen!

Edited November 18, 2013 by Battle-Brother Ludovic

[Ace Debonair]

It's amazing how when I didn't have a longer story arc planned this thread did nothing much, and now that I'm trying to launch one it's suddenly all hands on deck once more.

Only in the Liber, I guess.

[Olis]

Just a pointer, Brother Cambrius - I wield a Banhammer, not an axe.

Now then, Battle-Brother Ludovic, be aware that I want that key back. Messor is very protective of his.

(Also - you've got the key to the empty Confiscation Cabinet. So... that means Ace actually left the door to the Liber Armoury unlocked...)

Edited November 18, 2013 by Olisredan

[Dosjetka]

Oh, you'll get your key back, along with that Vortex grenade ;)

[Ace Debonair]

Olis, as an apprentice Techmarine I resent the implication that I would be so insensitive to the Machine Spirits within as to leave the armoury door unlocked. Truth is, locking doors and returning keys is kinda boring, so I just didn't chronicle it!

Ludo - I'm blowing up that oven. That's step one.

Step two is another story arc.

Between you and Olis putting obstacles in the way, I've never had to work so darn hard to set up an adventure.

Edited November 18, 2013 by Ace Debonair

[Aqui]

Between you and Olis putting obstacles in the way, I've never had to work so darn hard to set up an adventure.

Ooooooh, the temptation is soo strong!

[Brother Cambrius]

Just a pointer, Brother Cambrius - I wield a Banhammer, not an axe.

I have been around the Wolves too much, I thought I'd written hammer but clearly not...

Hmm, I wonder if the Fire-Scythes and Cambrius pattern Combi-Flamer of the SODs are kept safely in the armoury...only one way to find out later!

Cambrius

[Conn Eremon]

I'm scared.

Cormac, having finally wrestled the day's mystery meat into submission, had been just about to take a well-earned bite of a meal that, as far as Cormac could tell by the thing's smell, was probably not worth the effort when Ace had busted in. In the typically cowardly manner of its kind, the meal quit its possum routine and promptly wriggled out of Cormac's gauntleted hands and bolted, battle-hymns upon its lips. Unfortunately for food, it was required to sate hunger. And Cormac was always hungry. As the culinarium erupted, so too did Cormac. The table that now lay between him and satisfaction splintered under the sudden charge.

The maddened scramble amidst chaos continued for mere seconds, for not even the instinct for survival and freedom can overcome the talents of a Space Marine. Especially a hungry one. Cormac was always hungry. So it was that, after zipping hither and thither through the masses, the runaway, clearly under-cooked meal leaped for the nearby exit, was soundly impacted by the soaring body of Cormac and finally crushed when another Marine happened to be along the flight path. The two Marines rolled over each other as Cormac's momentum carried them forward a few meters. Finally the other Marine, who Cormac realized was the same Ace Debonair who had come charging into the Culinarium, shoved Cormac off of him with both hands as the two extricated themselves and stood. Apparently, a thought occured to them at the same time as they both froze, looked at each other, then down and then back up at each other.

Cormac's meal was non-recoverable. And non-refundable.

And Ace's hands were empty.

[Aqui]

There's no going back now!

[Dosjetka]

Hahaha, nice one Cormac and welcome to the story ;)

[Ace Debonair]

"Did that thing just eat my vortex grenade?"

Ace muttered a few curses in Kagaran, an excellent language to be angry in. Even the Kagaran for 'have a nice day' sounded like someone growling a death threat. Ace cursed the sentient meals in the Culinarium, and the vile oven from whence they spawned. He cursed all of the Chaos Gods for apparently bestowing their favour on the oven, the shortsightedness of his hungry bretheren, his busted leg and just the state of things in the Liber in general.

Throwing a chair, he stunned the fleeing former meal, and, pushing Cormac neatly out of the way, picked the thing up. Grabbing a combat knife from the nearest table, Ace carefully opened the foodstuff with the blade and pried the vortex grenade free. As Cormac got up, the now-eviscerated meal made yet another bid for freedom, but this time Cormac pounced on it before it managed three paces.

Ace stumped over to the backroom of the Culinarium, and pointed at the oven, which thrummed with a diabolical energy.

"You belong dead." Ace snarled.

Then he stopped and took another look at the reclaimed Vortex Grenade. Just how did you prime one of these things, anyway?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The last line exists solely because Ludo asked earlier that I refrain from blowing up the oven yet. You've got until tomorrow while I try and figure the grenade out from first principles.

My next post in this thread will involve the death of an oven, unless Ludo produces something before tomorrow that makes my plan for a story seem utterly unremarkable.

As an aside, if this turns into 'The Liber Astartes vs Ace Debonair' because you're all so protective of an oven that makes inedible food that still squirms as you eat it, then you can keep the damn thing, I'll forget my story and just order out from now on when I get hungry.

[Dosjetka]

The last line exists solely because Ludo asked earlier that I refrain from blowing up the oven yet. You've got until tomorrow while I try and figure the grenade out from first principles.

My next post in this thread will involve the death of an oven, unless Ludo produces something before tomorrow that makes my plan for a story seem utterly unremarkable.

As an aside, if this turns into 'The Liber Astartes vs Ace Debonair' because you're all so protective of an oven that makes inedible food that still squirms as you eat it, then you can keep the damn thing, I'll forget my story and just order out from now on when I get hungry.

Yessah!

And the Liber loves the quirky little oven as much as I do, so that's probably why no one is helping you :P