This is the Liber Astartes, PART II

[Heru]

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

Death to the oven.

[Dosjetka]

How much did Ace pay you to say that, Heru? :P

Edited November 19, 2013 by Battle-Brother Ludovic

[Ace Debonair]

As Ace pondered the Vortex Grenade, he became aware of a thumping noise to his right. Sanguinius Reborn was attacking an ordinary oven with a power fist, smashing it to pieces and laughing maniacally.

"Wrong oven." Ace said, pointing at the glowing monstrosity that seemed to have brainwashed Ludo into taking his time writing up his story. SR looked embarrassed for a moment, then leapt at the glowing, humming, false oven and swung a mighty punch at it. He vanished with an audible 'pop' sound, and Ace spent a moment wondering where the fiendish thing had moved him to before looking back at the Vortex Grenade with an expression of puzzlement.

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

My next post kills the other oven.

It's 5PM where I am, Ludo. You've got until I get up tomorrow, just to be clear.

Heru, good to see it's not just me who hates food that tries to bite back.

Remember, brothers, just because Space Marines can survive by eating their enemies, doesn't mean their diet should consist of abominations and gribblies.

Edited November 19, 2013 by Ace Debonair

[Conn Eremon]

Hey, I'll side with Ace.

 

Just thought it'd be amusing if the Vortex Grenade was lost in the pandemonium. :p

[Olis]

With first Ludovic barging his way through between the Mod and Ace, and now Cormac clattering into the Techmarine, Olis knew this day was just bad luck incarnate. As the two picked themselves up, realisation dawned over him: the key was gone. Ace no longer had hold of it.

 

Ludovic.

 

Holstering the Banhammer, Olis nodded to Messor - the other Mod would hold down the fort for now. The Space Wolves, keeping unto themselves now the prospect of a real fight had dimmed, began to bet amongst themselves. Over what exactly, Olis cared not. Out of the Culinarium, the atrium was relatively peaceful, save for the distant thuds emanating from Ludovic's rapid tread through the labyrinthine halls of the Liber. Scribes and serfs wandered to and fro, toward their intended destinations, Liberites appearing as lone islands of ceramite in the sparse crowd.

 

Heading directly to the Confiscation Cabinet, Olis clattered down the stairs at speed, taking four at a time. Intent on stopping Ludovic from looting the place, Olis feared what he might find clutched in the hands of the Culinarium Chief. At the bottom of the flight, patiently waiting, were some Liber serfs - and no-one else.

 

Or anything else. The place was empty. Where, in the name of the Emperor's sacred armpits, was everything? Clearly the serfs had recognised the Mod and, instead of leaving via the stairs, their cleaning duties complete, had approached the confused astartes. 

 

"M'lord Moderati, it is an honour to see you inspecting our work." It took a moment for the words to register. The emptiness of the Cabinet had stunned the Mod somewhat.

 

"Cleaning?" He muttered.

 

"Yes, m'lord." Came the cheery reply. The podgy serf was grinning like a prize idiot.

 

"Did you not see the Head of the Culinarium down here?" 

 

"No m'lord. We did have the honour of the company of Lord Debonair briefly." A furrow appeared on the serf's brow. The Mod cocked his head. 

 

"I see. So you did not see any other Liber member here, then?"

 

"No, m'lord." The furrow deepened to a frown. His fellows looked at one another.

 

"I see." Olis looked down at the man, his balding pate clearly visible from the vantage the Mod had. 

 

"Has Lord Debonair returned my key, m'lord?"

 

"Your key?"

 

"Aye, m'lord. Lord Debonair needed to visit the Armoury, so I lent him my key."

 

Eyes narrowed, Olis knew where he would go from here. He shook his head and chuckled. Trust Ace to find a way into the Armoury after all. The Mod turned to leave. An audible *pop* occurred, allowing all eyes to turn upward just in time to witness SanguiniusReborn emerge into existence directly above the Moderati. A bad day indeed.

Edited November 19, 2013 by Olisredan

[Dosjetka]

"Brother Argos" has kept me busy, so just blow that damned thing up Ace and I'll get my own back some other time.

[Ace Debonair]

Get your own back?

Maybe you should wait a moment before swearing revenge on me, and see how this plays out...

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

"Let's see. Depress the lever like so, remove the pin thusly, turn the purple dial like so, key in the date and time... like... this... Shake twice to activate the timer... wait three seconds, turn the red dial counter-clockwise like this..."

Ace paused for a moment, making sure he'd followed all the steps properly.

"Right. Where was I? Oh yeah: You belong dead."

Ace hurled the Vortex Grenade, now live and ticking, into the heart of the monstrous oven, then turned and bravely ran away with a shout of "Vortex Grenade live, in the Culinarium!"

There was a mass exodus of Liberites from the Culinarium, several of them giving chase to escaped meals. Ace stumped to the doorway where he was accosted by Messor. The Moderati, perhaps understandably, did not look happy.

"What in the Emperor's name did you just do?" Messor said, drumming his fingers on the hilt of his Melta. Ace shrugged.

"Escalate." He gestured back over his shoulder. "Do you know what happens when you put a Vortex Grenade inside a tech-monstrosity that can turn ordinary cheese-and-onion pasties into something like a tyranid?"

"No," Messor admitted with a frown.

"Me neither, but I think we should stand a lot further back." Ace scratched his head, deep in thought. "I did set it to minimum blast radius, but that's still big enough to pull half a titan apart."

"MOVE OUT!" Messor yelled at the Liberites, pointing down the long hallway. They scampered along, diving behind cover as it became available.

There was a long moment where nothing happened. This was followed by stillness and silence, and even more inactivity. Terrible forces failed to shatter the Liber, and huge explosions did not pour through the corridors like the wrath of the Chaos Gods.

Gradually, everyone picked themselves up, dusted themselves off, and gave Ace some dark looks for making them run off like that.

"It seems-" Aquilanus began, but he was overruled by the sound of a sudden, gaping rift opening in the Culinarium and shredding all matter around it. It went on for almost a minute, as the entire Liber shook under it's pressure, then silence unrolled once more. Prodded forward by his brothers, Ace was sent to inspect the damage.

The Culinarium was, to Ace's mild surprise, not actually that badly damaged. There were loose tiles and small holes in the walls, but the structure was basically intact. However, whatever the infernal oven had done to the vortex grenade, it hadn't done it well enough - there was a crater where the oven used to be, a faint trace of unguessable miasma hovered in the air, and a slick, purple stain on one wall.

The oven was well and truly dead, or at least collapsed into whatever terrible vortex the grenade had spawned. Several pans, pots, and colonies of escaped meals had died with it. Most of the serfs had retreated right into the depths of the Culinarium, well away from the blast.

Liberites filed into the room and surveyed the situation, some of the more optimistic looking around for something edible. Messor looked around, worried.

"That's unsettling." The Moderati said, taking in the damage.

"What is?" Cambrius replied, standing a fallen table back upright.

"Ace had a stupid plan, and it actually worked. " Messor shuddered. Cambrius thought about it for a moment, then shuddered as well.

"Spooky. Bet that doesn't happen again for another year or so."

"There is, of course, one more question." Messor said, sitting down on a chair with a sigh. "What are we going to do for food now?"

"Well." Aquilanus paused, getting his various thoughts in order as his many personalities skirmished for control of his mouth. "I remember reading once that NO, SHUTUP, I mean there was a map once, that said there were stairs at the back of the Culinarium, leading down to a second floor. The old stories say there is a room down there, filled to the brim with spare parts. And cutlery - wrought from finest ceramite and steel. But most importantly, they say the room houses three replacement ovens, built by the greatest craftsmen of the Salamanders Legion, dating back to the days of the Scouring."

There was a long pause. Messor stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"A second floor? We haven't even explored all of this floor of the Culinarium yet. There could be anything down there. Escaped meals, lost tribes of mad serfs, traps, pitfalls... anything."

"Where did you hear this story again, Aquilanus?" Cambrius asked.

"It was on some old data-slate I found in Hall Two." Aquilanus shrugged. "It didn't even say who the author was."

"So... a quest to find a new oven. But where in the Liber will we find anyone brave and foolhardy enough to voulnteer for it?" Messor pondered.

Soon enough, a note was pinned on the Culinarium noteboard. It read:

-=Quest into the Culinarium: List of volunteers=-

And soon after, Liberites began putting their names down for the mission.

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

So there we have it, the bare beginnings of a story and the final, conclusive destruction of the weird cloning machine that never worked from the last story arc that went nowhere and got installed as an oven because I'm thick.

If someone else wants to lead the expedition off, they can. The second floor's pretty much like a labyrinth and the questers being split up is basically inevitable, and beyond that pretty much everything is fair game.

[Olis]

I'm still on my way to the Armoury, iirc, to chase down Ludovic before he picks up anything waaay too overpowered. I may, or may not, have SanguiniusReborn in tow, too. So... any immediate expedition will probably have to leave without me (and Ludovic and SanguiniusReborn). I suspect this might end up being a secondary narrative to the Culinarium Quest, what with a sighting of Brother Argos.

[Aqui]

I'm still on my way to the Armoury, iirc, to chase down Ludovic before he picks up anything waaay too overpowered. I may, or may not, have SanguiniusReborn in tow, too. So... any immediate expedition will probably have to leave without me (and Ludovic and SanguiniusReborn). I suspect this might end up being a secondary narrative to the Culinarium Quest, what with a sighting of Brother Argos.

Well, as (apparently) it was I who brought up the previously unknown floor to the Culinarium, it would be rather rude not to volunteer

For those who have difficulty working out "who is who":

Aquilanus:

Steel Wing (Iron Hand successor) - Logical, faintly contemptuous of the others (main)

Space Wolf - usually easy going, unless:

Angel of Salvation (DA Successor) - Deliberately winds up Space Wolf

is involved in the conversation

Bahltimyr Reaver (Raven Guard 21st Founding successor - Tratoris Extremis) - Graaaaaaaah!

Order of the Dauntless Spirit - Pious to the point of Psychosis, loves flame/heat based weapons. Is suspicious of the others. The others usually try to keep her mollified by always keeping a melta pistol on them at all times...

Amber Dragon (Salamander successor) - Easy going, unless things get serious, with which case, the other Melta weapon comes out

Rainbow Warrior - As above, but the others snigger at his name behind his (metaphorical) back. Refers to the Emperor as "the Inti".

Son of Cruor (Blood Angel successor) - Haughty, delusions of grandeur, often gets caught eating black pudding, haggis and other questionable foodstuffs to keep the Red Thirst and Black Rage at bay...

Or you could just ignore the "many man" aspect ( Dark Apostle Thirst) and just have me as a fairly grumpy Marine who is a little erm...shifty

[Dizzyeye01]

Thought I'd toss my hat into this, new story arc and all :)

 

-+++++-

 

Arriving with his fellow recruit Liberites, Dizzyeye is greeted by a grizzled, old serf, someone who has clearly seen too much in the fabled halls of the Legio.

 

"New recruit aye? We'll see how long you last," he has a look over the renegade before walking down a corrider leading away from the landing bay, Dizzyeye behind him, "You'll want to keep hold of your weapons. Won't do much though if the Space Wolves decide to bring a Rhino through again."

 

Dizzyeye lets a laugh out through his Mk 3 helmet though it doesn't last long due to either the glare given by the serf or the realisation of him being serious. Probarly a mix of the two. He glances down at his weapons: two antique bolt pistols and two power swords, each "borrowed" off of the previous owners, starting to wonder what he's got himself into.

 

Turning around a sharp corner, the pair would find themselves a short distance away from the group of Liberites surrounding the noticeboard. The serf would just sigh, shaking his head, "If your the Glory-hound and as insane as anyone else here, I'd go join the Quest into the Culinarium, I doubt it's any-"

 

"Challenge accepted, might as well do something while my things are transported."

 

And with that, Dizzyeye put his name down, heading towards the Culinarium in a jog, leaving a rather annoyed serf behind him.

 

-++++++-

 

Any comments on grammer etc would be appreciated :)

[Madwolf Shadowmane]

I volunteer for this noble quest.

[Conn Eremon]

Did I mention I'll go down below? Can't remember, too lazy to backtrack.

 

Glad you brought up you split personalities, Aquilanus. When I was reading, it was my first idea on how to convey myself, but I realized you were already going that route and I didn't want to rain on your parade.

 

So I have two ideas on how to represent having :cuss load of DIYs.

One, twenty to thirty Cormacs, all look like the same dude given different gene-seed, and wearing different colors.

Bonus feature: Cormac. Squads. Eh? Eh?

Downside: Uhh, which Cormac is with us right now?

Potential fix: They never leave each other's sides.

 

Two, one Cormac, every time someone looks away his appearance changes. Was I wearing green before? Do I look like an Ork? I wear the brown and purple of the Imperial Dragons, and always have!

Bonus feature: Which Cormac? Whichever one you want.

Downside: Wait, crap, only the Crimson Specter knows that, but I'm the War Consul right now.

Potential fix: Shared memories.

 

Not sure which to go with. Or if both are dumb.

Edited November 21, 2013 by Cormac Airt

[Aqui]

Did I mention I'll go down below? Can't remember, too lazy to backtrack.

Glad you brought up you split personalities, Aquilanus. When I was reading, it was my first idea on how to convey myself, but I realized you were already going that route and I didn't want to rain on your parade.

So I have two ideas on how to represent having load of DIYs.

One, twenty to thirty Cormacs, all look like the same dude given different gene-seed, and wearing different colors.

Bonus feature: Cormac. Squads. Eh? Eh?

Downside: Uhh, which Cormac is with us right now?

Potential fix: They never leave each other's sides.

Two, one Cormac, every time someone looks away his appearance changes. Was I wearing green before? Do I look like an Ork? I wear the brown and purple of the Imperial Dragons, and always have!

Bonus feature: Which Cormac? Whichever one you want.

Downside: Wait, crap, only the Crimson Specter knows that, but I'm the War Consul right now.

Potential fix: Shared memories.

Not sure which to go with. Or if both are dumb.

You wouldn't be raining on my parade (At the very least, I wouldn't have a problem with it) There has been a couple of incidences where I've split, so that there are 8 of me/us and had the last adventure gone a different route I would have merged them all together permanently. (Un)fortunately, that didn't happen!

The last idea is interesting, as it kinda reminds me of the Silence from Doctor Who (as in, look away from them and you forget they existed)

[Nomus Sardauk]

Well if I can any of us can find some way to get me there I'd be more than happy to sign up for Ace's probably ill-advised expedition down to the Culinarium's second floor. Exploring unknown and likely extremely hostile territory with a gang of the Liber finest misfits? Yes please.

 

Anyway, less chat, more story.

 

-----

 

Olisredan groaned weakly, he now had a idea of why Ace had such a vendetta against that damn oven. Having a large and heavy object (in this case, a fully-armoured astartes) fall on you was both painful and annoying, he could only imagine how it would feel to repeat the experience multiple times with a broken limb. With a heave Olis shoved the unconcious SanguiniusReborn off of him before climbing to his feet and dusting off his Moderati's robes, then retrivied his Banhammer from the floor before proceeding to idly prod the prone Librarian with it.

 

"Oi" He spoke, assuming a tone not unlike a parent trying to rouse their offspring in the morning. "You better be still alive or I'm leaving your sorry corpse down here for the rats, so wake up!"

 

His annoyance mounting Olis knelt beside the still-unresponsive marine, shaking him a few times before his patience ran out and he calmly backhanded him across the face.

 

"GAH! THERE WAS A BRIGHT LIGHT AND I THINK I SAW THE EMPEROR!" SanguiniusReborn yelled, there was an awkward pause for a moment as Olisredan was lost for words before the Librarian added "He seemed... Jolly?"

 

Olis sighly inwardly, then helped the son of Baal to his feet, not wanting to know what prompted that outburst. "Are you... Okay?" He asked nervously.

 

"Urgh... I think so... What happened? Last I knew I was about to instruct that oven on how to make a proper knuckle sandwich with a powerfist, then POW! Bright light, Emperor, then here with you. Oh I think I saw a mortal as well, he had dark hair, strange clothes and glasses, it was like he was looking at me through a small window while pushing buttons or something..."

 

Olisredan frowned. "Well you were about to assault that oven, yes, but you disappeared as soon as you touched it. Then you reappeared here and fell on me."

 

"I see, well apologies for "getting the drop" on you Moderati, hehe." He chuckled, Olisredan only frowned harder. "So, where are we? I don't recognise this area of the Liber..." Sang asked, glancing around in confusion.

 

"The Confiscation Cabinet, I came here looking for Ludovic, though he's probably halfway to the armoury by now. And seeing as you've delayed my pursuit of him, you can help me find him." Olis said, poking the Librarian's chest with the end of his Banhammer to let him know he wasn't asking. SanguiniusReborn eyed the weapon warily, before snapping off a salute.

 

"By your word Moderati."

[Ace Debonair]

Not sure which to go with. Or if both are dumb.

Because dumb ideas have NO place in this thread WHATSOEVER.

Both ideas sound fine to me. Emperor knows I've had worse ones and made them stick.

[Shinzaren]

Shinzaren was on his way to the Liber Department of Heraldry, a known stomping ground of the one known as Ace Debonair, when he heard the unmistakable sound of the a vortex grenade. It was less a bang than a muted thump, and then a sharp suction of air, as if some great beast was drawing breath. All the hair on his head stood up on end, and then the bang came. A blast swept through the halls of the Liber, nearly knocking Shinz from his feet. As he heard  the growling sound of matter being desperately and inexorably pulled into the gaping maw of the vortex, he swept his gaze towards the Culinarium, where a pile of marines was slowly gaining their feet after a head-long dive out of the blast radius. Among them he noticed Ace and Aquilanus, along with Messor. He decided he would head there and see what had happened.

 

"Hey gents, I was supposed to come find you. Something about a secret mission?" Shinzaren greeted his old mates with a firm wrist grip. 

 

"MIssion? Ah, you mean LEVEL TWO! No, not that to, the other too. No, that's four. Shut UP!" As usual, Aquilanus was a little out of it, that many spirits in one head was never easy on conversation. "How'd you know about it anyway? Messor brought up the idea like five seconds ago. Are you a psychic? He's a witch! Nah, just lucky! I think he's handsome. You would. ENOUGH."

 

Shinzaren just chuckled and nodded, as if he had some idea what the maddened marine was muttering mutedly. He didn't. Still, a mission was a mission, and Shinz had been aching to test his new glaive. 

 

Ace meanwhile was muttering about how he had finally did it, and how they would sing songs of his glorious defeat of the terrible...oven? Was that right? Shinz must have been hearing things. Messor came over as the Liberites were chatting and hung a duty roster sign up on the remains of the Culinarium wall. Already a hoard of liberites was swarming to sign-up for the newest adventure, and Shinz figured a good stretch would do him some good. He grabbed Ace's hat, plucked a feather from it, and dipped it in some of the...sauce...that was spattered across the floor. With a quick swipe of his gauntleted hand, he added his name to the list of volunteers for the latest Liber Astartes mission.

[Olis]

Nudging open the door to the Liber Armoury, the Moderati looked over his shades to get a better view of the repository. Thousands of suits of power armour, each upon it's own stand or in a display case, and millions of weapons similarly exhibited resting alongside innumerable other assorted artifacts. Even as a Moderati this place was a sight to behold. For the Liberite in tow, the awe generated was obvious to see.

Lumin globes on anti-grav suspensors floated along the many aisles, casting their glow upon the intricately wrought floor and the priceless, eclectic contents of the Armoury itself. The lines of glowing blobs stretched into the distance until they couldn't be distinguished from their neighbours, so great was the length of the space.

Ludovic had to be here somewhere, however something felt wrong. Or at least, something felt different. Pushing his shades back up the bridge of his nose, Olis picked a row and began to walk, trying very hard not to be distracted by the wealth of artifacts he was walking past. SanguiniusReborn, eyes like saucers, didn't really bother keeping an eye out for Ludovic but followed the Mod all the same.

Passing something he recognised from a previous trip to the Armoury - The Golden Blade of Gordia - Olis stopped. What was the noise? A shuffling scrape had grown louder as the two astartes went deeper into the Armoury, the emanations coming from another aisle. Could it be Ludovic? The Mod turned to beckon SanguiniusReborn, only to see the Liberite now sporting a Blink Shield, polished to a mirror sheen. It was more of a tea tray than a shield but the real value lay in the displacement field generator incorporated into the handle.

"Put that back." He told SanguiniusReborn. There was going to be no pilfering while the Moderati was around.

"By your word, Moderati." Came the dispirited response. No sooner had the Liberite gone to replace the artifact, he disappeared. In his place, or rather directly behind him, stood a cleverly camouflaged suit of battle plate armed with piston driven power fists recovering it's stance from a haymaker blow. A Praetor of Victorius Mk X suit. A remnant of a chapter never to be.

Ranged combat was out of the question in the Armoury so the Mod unlimbered the Banhammer he kept at his back. This wouldn't be the first time he'd vanquished this thing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There you go, SanguiniusReborn, you're free to go. Pop back up wherever you like.

Edited November 21, 2013 by Olisredan

[Ace Debonair]

Ace meanwhile was muttering about how he had finally did it, and how they would sing songs of his glorious defeat of the terrible...oven? Was that right? Shinz must have been hearing things.

 

"They'll sing songs about it, probably. The Ballad of the Ovenslayer."

[Olis]

Head tilted, bloodied and panting, Olis stood over the deactivated armour. He really had to have a word with the serfs that supposedly looked after this stuff. It had accounted for the one Liberite who could potentially watch his back here, much to the Mod's chagrin. Who knew what else lurked here, stalking the Armoury seemingly under it's own power?

 

He wrenched the Banhammer's head out of the chest plate cavity, causing the suit to lurch as the weapon snagged on broken armour. Somewhere, amidst the shattered display cases and strewn relics, was his shades. A short exhalation from his nose told of his disgust. He had liked those shades.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

So, Ludo, what are you up to with Brother Argos?

[Dosjetka]

I should have something up later on tonight, if Life lets me have it my way.

 

(Sorry for the long delay :sweat:)

[Ace Debonair]

Messor looked at the campaign map pinned to the counter again.

 

"Right." The Moderati sounded uncertain for a moment, but rallied quite well. "So here's the plan, Liberites and Gentlemen."

 

What a joke this map was, Messor thought to himself. Made almost a hundred years ago by serfs who were quite, quite out of their minds. It showed the top floor of the Culinarium, which stretched on for about three quarters of a mile. The nearby areas were fairly accuractely mapped, but the far edges were largely guesswork. There were, according to this map, three stairwells leading down to the second floor. No maps existed of the second floor, not even in the deepest, darkest corners of the Liber. Not so much as a pencil outline. According to legend, however, it was an extremely hostile place overflowing with peril, but apparently also home to various treasures, lost relics, and of course a spare oven.

 

Naturally, nobody else was taking it the least bit seriously. In typical Liberite fashion, the assorted astartes were boasting about how awesome they were and how much loot they could plunder singlehandedly from the murky depths.

 

Equally disconcerting was Ludovic's absence. The only Liberite who actually knew his way around the top floor of the Culinarium, and he had to pick right now to run off somewhere else. Messor could only hope he was staying out of trouble.

 

Wrenching his thoughts back on topic with the discipline inherent to the Legio Moderati, Messor continued;

 

"Three squads will set out to scout ahead. The rest of us will follow on behind, just as soon as they get back from the recruitment drive. Aquilanus, you're in charge of Squad Obscurus. Cormac, you're heading up Squad Ultramar, and I'll take charge of Squad Tempestus."

 

"Well, looks like you won't need me," Ace said, shrugging. "I'll be in th-"

 

"Oh no you don't, Ovenslayer." Messor growled. "You're in this up to your neck. You're on scouting duty for Cormac's squad, so you've got until the count of five to get going. One."

 

Ace paled. "Can I just go and get-"

 

"Two."

 

"But I was just going to pick up my-"

 

"Three."

 

Ace grabbed his throwing chainaxe and his hat, and sped into the darkness of the Culinarium, muttering curses.

 

"Alright then." Messor glanced at the map again. "You all know what to do. Get looking for that oven, and don't do anything stupid. Or at least try to avoid doing the stupidest possible thing at every opportunity. Emperor knows we've got a knack for finding new heights of dumb luck, but let's not push our luck too far. Liberites - MOVE OUT!"

[Aqui]

We interrupt our regular programming to present a three part Special!

This is the Liber Astartes Christmas Fistmas special 2013

Prologue:

It was a night unlike any other. The Liber was unusually quiet, its denizens about their business. The corridors did not echo with the shouts of frustration, nor that of exclamation. A stranger was abroad, unnoticed at first. But by evenings end, every Liberite had a wish come true, their hearts fit to burst.

Good, bad or worse.

The Liber. A single word that evoked many emotions within the Legio Bolter and Chainsword. Bewilderment, joy, fear and more. But hark! Here comes the newcomer, let's see what's in store...

Trudging along, his gait burdened by a sack impossibly large in size, the shadowy figure approached the massive door to the Liber. A faint smile flickered across his features. Pausing to view the wooden passageway. It was adorned with runes, potent and eye aching. It had to, of course as the occupants within trucked with things that perhaps ought be left alone. Adjusting his load, the figure continued, his way no longer blocked by mere artifice...

"I do declare!" Exclaimed Ace Debonaire, the Liber's Tech Marine in training and member of the Liber Heraldry department, "This is too much food! What is Ludo thinking?"

"He's invited the Wolves of Fenris over again." the owner of the second Marine muttered, his concentration fixed on a data slate.

"Aqui, why would they want to come back again? Last time they came over, they complained the ale we served was too weak."

Aquilanus raised his gaze to meet Ace's. "That wasn't what they said. They said that the ale tasted like Ork pi..." Ace raised his eyebrows.

"You know what I meant. But why are they coming back?"

"Ludo said they could bring their own, as long as there was enough for everyone..."

"That would be enough to give a planet terminal alcohol poisioning!" Ace exclaimed.

"Indeed."

"I'll shall have to speak to a Moderatii. Where are Olis and Messor anyway?"

"Out. There are still parts of the Liber that was damaged in the aftermath of the Typo war. They're assessing the repairs."

"In any case, when are they coming?"

"Not for a few hours yet. It does give you a chance to hide your bike." The last sentence was uttered with a chuckle. Ace's bike was currently a mangled mess. He had no wish to see it completely destroyed.

"By the Gorgon's digits!" Ace remembered. Rushing off to save his beloved steed, neither Ace or Aquilanus noticed the hooded figure smiling at them in the corner from the shadows.

+++

"I said I want it over there!" Battle-Brother Ludovic shouted over the commotion. The Culinarium was full of Serfs trying to fulfil its leaders demands. Ludovic's usually genial demeanour was soured by the frankly staggering list of food still needed to be prepared. Ten Serfs groaned under the weight of a platter bearing a game bird the size of a Rhino APC.

"Still hard at work I see." noted a voice, amusement dripping from every syllable.

"Olis, you could give me a hand. None of this is going to do itself!"

"You know that I'm a liability in the Culinarium, Ludo." Moderatii Olisredan replied. Hovering behind was Messor, an expression upon his features that did not bode well.

"Messor?"

"We can't discuss things here. Too many mortal ears and eyes around. Switch to internal vox."

++What's going on?++

++We aren't sure. Yet++

++There have been reports of a stranger within the Liber. No concrete evidence thus far. If it had been reported by a single Marine, we would have been far less...cautious. But no less than a dozen Liberites have come to us with similar accounts. Be vigilant, Brother.++

++Understood++

Ludo watched as the two Moderatii left the Culinarium. He had, of course noted the date. An ancient custom, one barely on the right side of Heresy was celebrated in two Terran days time. One of supposed joy and hope. What if the rumours are true?

Shrugging, he turned back to his Serfs. "What the Feth are you doing?! That's not what you do with the stuffing!"

In the corridor outside, a faint noise could be heard. One not unpleasant to the Lyman's ear.

The sound of Slay bells.

Part two soon!

Edited December 22, 2013 by Aquilanus

[Olis]

You're damn right I'm a liability in the Culinarium - I cook good food for a start. :lol:

[Aqui]

You're damn right I'm a liability in the Culinarium - I cook good food for a start.

I'm currently writing the other two parts, the second part to be posted tomorrow (will be about 10pm GMT as I'm working a late ) It's going to be a biggy and features a fair cross range of members of the B+C. The third and final part will be posted on Fistmas eve, around about 5pm GMT (or so, as I'll be off to see my family after and won't be back near a computer until Boxing day, although I'll have my BB PB with me over Christmas day )

Apologies in advance if I don't write members online persona quite the way they imagine themselves to be

[Dosjetka]

Apologies in advance if I don't write members online persona quite the way they imagine themselves to be

That's to be expected, since you don't really know any of us in real life

And Oli... get out of my kitchen

Edited December 22, 2013 by Battle-Brother Ludovic