This is the Liber Astartes, PART II

[Ace Debonair]

Ace, Silver Phoenix and Cappy were hard pressed.

The numbers of the creatures seemed endless - Ace and SP had exhausted their ammo minutes back, and Cappy had dropped his plasma gun since it was getting dangerously hot.

The three stood with their backs to the door and fought with the tireless energy of Space Marines with nowhere to run.

"Alright, that's enough. We need to pull back and re-arm." Ace gritted, as a creature clawed savagely at his helmet for a moment before being cut in half.

"Fine, fine. You two hold them for a minute." Silver Phoenix threw his knife to Cappy and dropped back a pace while he unlocked the door.

Ace buried his chainaxe into one enemy's torso just as the weapon ran out of fuel. Immediately, two of the creatures rushed Ace and knocked him back, the chainaxe falling from his grasp.

"Hey! I was using that!" Ace growled, as the creatures continued to swarm him.

"Whenever you're ready, SP," Cappy called, stabbing one creature with both knives. Moving quickly, he kicked his plasma gun towards Ace, who scooped it up easily and brought the still-hot weapon up like a club, battering away at the surrounding creatures.

"Door's open, boys!" Silver Phoenix announced, dashing into the room. The other two followed quickly, allowing Silver Phoenix to slam the door shut and flick the light on as Ace handed Cappy his plasma gun back.

The room looked like a typical Liber dormitory - a low bed secured in it's own niche in the wall, an armour stand and a weapon rack near the door, and an assortment of books, scrolls and other information, piled high on a desk. Alongside the desk lay a vox-radio, an old design used by the Legio for inter-department communication. There was also a refrigeration device, it's polished white surface laden with ancient purity seals and graven with arcane technological runes.

"What," asked Cappy, "in the Emperor's name, is going on here, anyway?"

"Oh, that. It's sort of complicated." Ace replied, taking his helmet off and examining the dents on the front.

"Well, we've got all day." Silver Phoenix examined the edge of his knife shaking his head in sorrow at all the fresh chips on it's edge.

"Er. Alright, let me sum up." Ace closed his eyes in concentration. "I helped put an oven back together, but it was actually some kind of daemon engine or something, and ruined all our food. I decided to blow it up with a vortex grenade because nothing else was working. Then I got sent to look for a new oven, everyone else got involved, and space and time itself are now screwed up."

"Well, that's-"

"Not finished." Ace waved a hand irritably. "I stole a chainaxe from myself in the past, which alerted me to the fact that in the future, I'm going to be able to steal a chainaxe from myself in the past. Which means, logically, I must make it to the point where I can do that, and therefore I must survive until I reach some kind of time-altering device. So I took a data-slate and made sure to chronicle everything that happened to me on the way to that device, so I could pass it back to my past-self after I'd had the idea in the first place. I then gave a different past-self my chainaxe, so I had two chainaxes. Emperor help me, it gets worse than that too."

"How much worse?" Cappy asked, knowing even as he did so he shouldn't have bothered.

"Ugh. In the future I've got my axe still even after giving me my axe back in the past, so I must survive to get my axe back from Officer Mausland or one of his men, so presumably they survive too, so I gave Mausland my actual axe for reclaiming later on the way out. I must find a way to mess about with time, which means presumably I figure out what's going on since I didn't seem all that stressed out about it in the future, and presumably I find a way of setting everything right. In short, I know all this is going to happen because, in a way, I've already done it. Even though I haven't done it yet, but I'm definitely going to, if you see what I mean"

There was an awkward silence for a moment while the Liberites digested this news.

"Are you sure you didn't just drink too much Fenrisian Ale?" SP ventured.

"Nope, I'm still the Designated Driver."

"Pity, that would have explained so much."

"Yeah, none of that made any sense." Cappy agreed. "Just tell us what we should be doing next, and let's get on with things."

Ace went to activate the data-slate, but it simply crackled and displayed static.

"Oh. That's not good." Ace looked genuinely blank for a moment. "Oh well, back to winging it."

"Is that a good idea?" Silver Phoenix asked, giving Ace the sort of look that clearly says 'That is not a good idea'.

"It's worked for me so far." Ace replied, with a smirk. "Is there another way out of here?"

Just then, a blue light appeared on the far wall and grew into a Space-Marine sized portal. A familiar face was peering through it.

"Ah, there I am." Future Ace grinned. "I wondered where I'd got to. Hallo, past me."

"Hallo yourself," Ace chuckled. "So what's up now?"

"Turns out things are getting worse now. So, I'm going to cheat. If you gentlemen would like to hop through?"

With a near-simultaneous shrug, the three Liberites climbed into the portal, which crackled briefly before snapping shut.

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

I did say I was going to have fun with this storyline, right?

Well, it's going to get more fun from here on.

EDIT:

Ah, you're out of the pit! Nice story, Aquilanus.

And so the pieces march closer to their appointed places on the board.

I really wish I had the posts that inspired this story. The explanation is going to be almost as much fun as writing the story itself.

Edited March 26, 2014 by Ace Debonair

[Olis]

Still shaking filth from his treasured caliver, Olis followed behind Deathspectre and Aquilanus. It had been some time since he had fired the weapon and now, without the proper maintenance rites and observances, he was less than certain it would be fully operational for the duration. The thought concerned him. His backup pistol had only a single magazine to spare - clearly not enough to fend off any concerted attack should his beloved volkite fail.

 

He began to wonder, again, about this Aquilanus. He was so sure, so collected. Absolutely nothing like his Aquilanus. He had to grin at the thought, despite the worrying question of where any of his fellow Fraters, from his Liber were. Could it be possible to tell the difference? Ace might know. He mused. Any version of him might.

 

Was this his Deathspectre? Aquilanus'? An entirely different Deathspectre altogether? 

 

The multitude of questions flourished until the Moderati bit down on them and focused on walking. To where, exactly, was anyone's guess.

[Brother Argent]

Ah... Who is cappy...? Am I missing something here...? I thought it was (one of) me and you down the bottom ace...

[Cpt_Reaper]

That would be me...sort of snuck in there because...there can never be too many Aussies in the Liber

[Ace Debonair]

And there you have your answer, SP.

[Cpt_Reaper]

I can't wait to see where...or when...we end up. Timey-Wimey away!!! I wonder if I'll get distracted and wander off...or meet myself in the future. I shall prepare for when I add to this epic tale once more.

[Brother Argent]

Yep... I should have stayed in the DDDoL.....

[Olis]

Ah... Who is cappy...? Am I missing something here...? I thought it was (one of) me and you down the bottom ace...

 

Perfect opportunity to play around with alternate selves, if I do say so myself... ;)

[Brother Argent]

Already doing that with one of my with Ace and another with Cambrius (Note the different wargear of the two) and a third one popping up near the armoury... And possible a fourth one in my next installment...

[Olis]

They had come across scenes of battle several times already, usually with little to scavenge besides the odd bolt shell. But this scene was different. Standing over a corpse - his corpse - provided a strange melancholy for the three brothers. It was clearly Olis, there was no doubting that, and just a few metres away lay two others in similar angular power armour. The body was slumped, sat against the wall of a boxy ventilation unit, with a gaping hole that bored straight though, large enough to stick a hand in and wiggle the fingers. 

 

Again, not a Moderati. It seemed there were many realities where he was not one. The possibility stood to reason, he supposed. This poor soul bore the heraldry and colours of a Son of Orar, or at least something incredibly close to it. Clutched in his hand was a strange plasma pistol, oddly alien in design. It would suffice in lieu of his malfunctioning caliver, it having given up the ghost in the last engagement with yet more warp spawned terrors. A fizzle and a pop was all it provided in that encounter, something had evidently broken inside the intricate workings.

 

Wrenching the weapon out of his other self's dead hand, the Moderati looked over the piece with disdain - it looked and felt like a plasma pistol but the styling was off, much like his dead alter ego's armour. Further scavenging only turned up a scant few spare ammo cells and a chapbook entitled "Codex Ultramar". Olis left the book with the corpse. 

 

With little else done or said after the search, they carried on, led by Deathspectre.

[Nomus Sardauk]

They had come across scenes of battle several times already, usually with little to scavenge besides the odd bolt shell. But this scene was different. Standing over a corpse - his corpse - provided a strange melancholy for the three brothers. It was clearly Olis, there was no doubting that, and just a few metres away lay two others in similar angular power armour. The body was slumped, sat against the wall of a boxy ventilation unit, with a gaping hole that bored straight though, large enough to stick a hand in and wiggle the fingers.

 

Again, not a Moderati. It seemed there were many realities where he was not one. The possibility stood to reason, he supposed. This poor soul bore the heraldry and colours of a Son of Orar, or at least something incredibly close to it. Clutched in his hand was a strange plasma pistol, oddly alien in design. It would suffice in lieu of his malfunctioning caliver, it having given up the ghost in the last engagement with yet more warp spawned terrors. A fizzle and a pop was all it provided in that encounter, something had evidently broken inside the intricate workings.

 

Wrenching the weapon out of his other self's dead hand, the Moderati looked over the piece with disdain - it looked and felt like a plasma pistol but the styling was off, much like his dead alter ego's armour. Further scavenging only turned up a scant few spare ammo cells and a chapbook entitled "Codex Ultramar". Olis left the book with the corpse.

 

With little else done or said after the search, they carried on, led by Deathspectre.

I see what you did there brother. ;)

[Olis]

Excellent. I've tried my hand at hints in the past but apparently I was too subtle. I went for a really heavy-handed reference, this time. ^_^

 

(Plus I'm waiting to see what Ace is up to.)

[Ace Debonair]

Future Ace examined the dozen or so screens built into the console and frowned.

"Right. Something's gone a bit awry here, but I think I've got it sorted out."

Silver Phoenix shrugged.

" 'Something's gone wrong' sounds like a summary of the Liber Astartes. Care to share any details?"

"I can't, at least not yet. Trust me." Future Ace looked mournful for a moment, but he brightened up quickly. "The basic thing, though, is that something is messing with time. It's trying to keep you," Future Ace pointed at Regular Ace "from becoming me."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed, oh indeed. Whatever is behind it, it's tried to divert you into the Deepest Darkest Depths of the Culinarium, which I guess explains why SP was down there. Cappy I'm not so sure about, but I'm not one to turn down plasma support." Future Ace jabbed at a few buttons hesitantly. "Now, what comes next... ah, yes. SP, Cappy, I need both of you to hop out about here. You'll be dropped in near Cormac, another Cormac, Heru, Ludo and Messor. I think they're our ones, but I wouldn't bet bolt rounds on it. They're about to come under attack by these shadow beasties, and could use some backup. Also, don't let the damn things get past you."

Future Ace handed SP a second knife and gave Cappy a fairly crude-looking metal club, apologizing for the lack of spare weapons, then set up a portal for the two Liberites to leave through.

"Best of luck, lads. If this works out I'll see you again shortly." Regular Ace exchanged salutes with the other two Liberites as they dived out and into the fray. The portal snapped shut, and Future Ace sighed.

"Right. That was the easy bit. Now comes the tricky part - getting you to where you need to be. Bear with me a minute."

Regular Ace nodded to his future counterpart and strolled around the small room.

"So, you might as well tell me, where exactly are we right now?" Ace asked. Future Ace shrugged his response.

"Honestly? I'm not quite sure. Under the Armoury, somewhere, I think. Like, a long way down."

"Alright. So what's my next move?"

"Uh." Future Ace paused for a moment. "I'll drop you outside the door you have to go through. You just have to go through the door, and you'll figure the rest out as you go. I can't tell you more in case it's changed somehow."

"Oh, alright."

"Right, here we go. Well, here you go, more accurately."

"Heh. Well, this is my stop," Regular Ace pointed at the portal that was appearing on the wall. "So long, me."

"Yeah, so long yourself." Future Ace walked over to the portal and glanced through it. "Yeah, that's the right place."

Ace stepped through the portal. On the other side, it was almost pitch black. There was no light anywhere besides the faint blue glow of the portal behind him. There was a distant sound of vicious combat, drawing closer. Ace glanced back through the portal. Future Ace was watching him with a look of genuine regret on his face.

"I'm really sorry about this," Future Ace said. "But it'll only hurt for a moment, and it'll all make sense later."

"Hold on, what?" Ace looked on, bewildered, as the portal shut. And beside him, a bizarre, four-armed shadow creature straightened up and flared a crude Thunder Hammer into life.

Ace only had time to say "Oh, shi-" before the creature smashed him across the head, killing him stone dead.

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

This is a dumb cliffhanger to finish on, isn't it?

Eh, what the heck. I'll write the next part too.

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

"-ny lights and Throne polish!" Ace finished. He was lying on his back, in a very brightly lit room made entirely, so it seemed, of polished silver. He was also still alive, which was just as surprising. He'd felt his head collapse under the impact of the Thunder Hammer, which was a feeling he'd rather forget.

Scrambling upright, there was no sign of any enemies around. There was a gentle humming noise, of a low enough pitch that it was as much felt as heard. Ace began to wonder - perhaps he'd been brought before the Emperor for judgement? That's what the Chaplains said happened when you died, after all.

Ace looked around again. The room was filled with intricate, well-maintained machinery. Giant, megalithic slabs of machinery with millions of switches, buttons, dials and lights. Semi-circular things with curious turbines built into them. Odd keyboards and data-slates, built into lecterns that strategically overlooked parts of the room.

"Good evening, brother." Came a booming voice, from the ceiling. Ace looked around frantically, but there was nobody there. "I trust I find you well?"

"Er," Ace replied, hesitantly. "I think so."

"Well and good, then. I see by your expression you have questions. Perhaps I can answer them."

A door opened in one of the walls, and a figure, framed in brightest light, stepped into the room. The left portion of his face was framed with a steel plate, the snarling image of a Salamander seared into it as an honour marking. Burn scars from the Brander-Priests wreathed his skin in whorls and bands. A Bionic eye gleamed coldly in contrast to the burning red of his own.

Ace stood to attention immediately, realising he was in the presence of a legend - the famed Brother Argos, master and architect of the Legio's headquarters.

"You might be wondering why you're here." Brother Argos paused to scan a data-slate mounted on one wall.

"I did wonder that, sir." Ace replied, cautiously.

"The answer is... complicated, but can be boiled down to this: Right now you're more useful to the Legio alive than dead. So, when you were about to die, myself and a few other brothers made... arrangements... to have you spared."

"How?" Ace asked, weakly.

"Again, a complicated answer." The Techmarine examined a series of dials on a triangular platform. "Normally, we couldn't do such a thing. However, certain events were set in motion recently, starting with the construction of a very unusual device."

Brother Argos gave Ace a stern look. "Can you guess what that device was, Ace Debonair?"

"Oh, Throne. It was that thrice-cursed oven, wasn't it?"

"Oven?" Brother Argos looked genuinely blank for a moment. "That device was a relic of the Dark Age of Technology, salvaged from a world whose name and history is erased from the Wider Imperium, and known only to the Legio. It was a machine that used the power of the warp to create duplicates."

"But Dark Apostle Thirst told me it was an oven!" Ace exclaimed.

"And you took a servant of the Ruinous Powers at his word?"

Ace opened his mouth to protest, hesitated, and facepalmed instead, the sound echoing around the room.

Brother Argos permitted himself an amused smirk, shaking his head at the Liberite's foolishness. "In any event, the destruction of the machine caused... problems. Unforseen ones. Somehow, somewhere, the device survived, and has started tearing holes in our reality. Some of these holes lead into other realities, realities where the Heresy never occurred, or is still ongoing ten thousand years later. Other holes lead back and forth in time itself." Brother Argos sighed. "Not even the Moderati can keep an eye on all of the disturbances. In other words, this is quite the mess you've made, brother.

Ace found himself staring fixedly at the floor. Brother Argos was right, of course. This really was all Ace's fault. He'd brought shame to his profession as Apprentice Techmarine and Designated Driver, shame to the Liber, shame to his Chapter, and shame to the Legio.

"What must I do to set this right?" Ace asked aloud. Brother Argos began pacing back and forth.

"There is one thing that can be done. The Legio Administratum and myself have, recently, ordained the creation of a new force within the Legio. They will be wardens against the appearance of these portals or disturbances. Several of our Brothers and Sisters have already ascended to the rank, and even now are eliminating the presence of these Fractures in reality."

Ace opened his mouth to ask 'how?' but Brother Argos held up a hand to forestall the question. "These portals in time are proving very useful. As far as the Legio is concerned, this group has existed for years, though they boast no more authority than any other member of the Legio."

"Honoured Brother Argos, give me the chance to join this group. Whatever trials I must endure, I'll -"

"Permission granted. Kneel."

Ace knelt. The door opened once more, this time, admitting a gathering of serfs and tech-thralls who patrolled around Ace, reciting a litany in binary. When they had finished, Brother Argos bade Ace stand.

"Congratulations, brother. You are now part of the order known as the Adeptus Domus." Brother Argos strode across the room and began pressing buttons, causing the whirr of the machinery to change in pitch. "I'll return you to where you should be - in a corridor not far from Olisredan and some of the others. Seek him out - he carries something key to sealing up these Fractures."

There was a bright flash, and Ace vanished from the room. Brother Argos continued to work on the ancient machines, ensuring their machine spirits continued to thrive.

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

So there we have it! That's the conclusion to the Big Idea I had.

What inspired the story? Well, two things. First, a number of years back, someone asked me what the Adeptus Domus actually did. I forget who it was, and can't find the post, so I don't know who to blame for that.

Secondly, when congratulating Aquilanus on becoming a Moderator, he uttered the words 'who watches the watchmen?', which got me pondering the role of the Adeptus Domus once more.

And lastly, of course, Cormac in this thread brought up the idea of time travel and alternate realities, which pretty much made up my mind for me.

So, to answer that question from all those years ago, the Adeptus Domus are Time and Space Police who make sure the Alternate Realities stay Alternate.

That's my badass moment out of the way, anyway, and I can now go back to being the butt of the jokes.

I have no idea how to finish the rest of the story, so we're all back to Improv, and the floor is definitely open to everyone else now.

[Aqui]

Secondly, when congratulating Aquilanus on becoming a Moderator, he uttered the words 'who watches the watchmen?', which got me pondering the role of the Adeptus Domus once more.

I still haven't found out you know...

I must admit I did not see that ending coming!

[Olis]

Aha, my doohickey is the key. To everything. Oh crap.

Nice wrap up to your focus, Ace. :)

Edited March 31, 2014 by Olisredan

[Ace Debonair]

I did say I was going to have fun writing the time-travel stuff, right?

And now you know why my stuff's been focused on myself, too - I can't remember who else has the rank of Adeptus Domus.

Which is a bit embarrassing, actually.

[Brother Argent]

Not sure I can think of anyone else these days.... You are just that... unique...

[Ace Debonair]

I'm definite there are others. And in time I'll remember who.

On a completely random tangent, and just because I have to say it somewhere, I can't wait until there's another Legio 'make your forum avatar' challenge. I'm going to have way too much fun with it!

[Olis]

"I thought you said you knew where you were going?" Asked Aquilanus. Deathspectre had stopped at an intersection crowded with pipework and had started to cast looks down each of the three paths before them.

 

"I didn't say I knew where, I mean, I know where we're going but I just knew that I had to get to a specific area at a specific time." Olis and Aquilanus looked at each other.

 

"What?" 

 

"Look we're supposed to be here. Here is where we're meant to be." Deathspectre seemed agitated. Something was wrong. "But maybe the timing is off."

 

"I think you need to come straight with us, Deathspectre." Olis warned. "If this has become some sort of trap, you can kiss your sorry a-" He didn't get to finish the threat. They were all thrown into stark contrast as an exceedingly bring light flashed into existence behind them, from where they had come from, with a great flumpf. Even looking away from it, the auto senses in their helmets had trouble keeping a coherent image. Once the flare had died down, they turned.

 

It was Ace, thank the Emperor. Well, an Ace. Strangely enough he seemed... what was the word... smug? Well, smug or not, this Ace looked a lot like Olis' Ace.

 

"Alright lads?" A friendly Ace. Even better. Olis fished around in a pouch and threw the clockwork device to the techmarine. He'd be glad for an explanation about it. Ace threw it back. "No no. You're the one who's carrying it. You get to be the one to take the risks now." That didn't sound good.

 

"Risks? What risks?" 

 

"We have to close the Fractures and if I'm not very much mistaken, that thing is supposed to do the job."

 

Aquilanus and Deathspectre just stood there, watching the to and fro like a sports match.

 

"But what does it do?"

 

"Close Fractures?" Came the reply. Ace always had a way with words.

 

"Okay. Okay." Olis shook a hand out at Ace to stop the talking, pinching the bridge of his helmet with the hand that held the ball. The little silver thing, silent this entire time up to now, chirruped. The Moderati held out the ball. "I don't suppose that this is a bad thing, is it?"

 

"I dunno." Ace shrugged his shoulders. Aquilanus and Deathspectre did the same. Looking at his companions and the device, Olis touched it to Aquilanus. A different chirrup, well, more of a squeak. Interesting. A different chirrup for a different dimension perhaps? Moving the ball over to Deathspectre, he expected a new sound. To the contrary, he heard a repeat of Aquilanus' chirrup. Good news. The fewer dimensions represented the better, as far as Olis was concerned. Less of a clean up later.

 

He touched the device to Ace. Nothing. He did it again and received a chirrup eerily like the one it made when he tapped his own helmet. He tried it again. The same chirrup. Himself? The same chirrup. A grin crept across his face, getting a little wider than was strictly sane. His own Ace. How long had it been since he'd seen someone from his own dimension? Probably too long.  

 

"Well. That was convenient." Said Aquilanus.

 

"Very." Deathspectre agreed. Olis didn't care, although at the back of his mind he had wondered how or why this thing did what it just did. A gift from an Admin. Best not look into it too much.

 

"It's good to see a friendly face, brother." Said the Moderati, clasping the techmarine's wrist. "When we have the time I have a job for you, concerning my caliver." 

 

"Let me guess... did you break it?"

 

"Maybe." The grin remained.

 

"So," Aquilanus interjected, "Deathspectre and I are from one dimension, you and Ace are from another. What now?" Ace raised a finger.

 

"What now? Now we close these thrice-damned Fractures." He turned to the Moderati. "You're the one with the key. Lead on!"

 

The Moderati turned, chose a direction at random and began to walk. He had no idea where to go, so this way was as good as any.

Edited April 1, 2014 by Olisredan
Typo! Fire! Fire everything!

[Nomus Sardauk]

Alone in the dark SanguiniusReborn crept along the deathly hallways of Level Secundus, how long had he been down here, he wondered? The chronometer in his helmet had glitched out the moment he had arrived in this desolate place and his sense of time felt... Distorted. He could have been wandering these vacant tunnels for only hours, or maybe it had been weeks?

He pushed such thoughts from his mind as he rounded the corner, his eyes catching a flicker of movement from down the hall. Instantly his Bolter was in his hand, ready to unleash hell.

For what the Librarian estimated was a minute, nothing happened. He simply stood there, braced for an attack that refused to come.

"Come on, poke your head round that corner, I dare you." He whispered in his mind, willing something to happen, if only to break the tension. Eventually his patience ran out and he slowly, cautiously advanced down the hall, gritting his teeth all the way. Finally he spun round the corner only to find the section empty, even the dust on the floor was undisturbed.

"What the...? But where did it go?"

A quick scan of the area served only to further confuse him, the hallway ended in a solitary door which was shut and look to have been so since Secundus itself had. For a moment he eyed the door quietly, as if expecting it to burst open at any second. Sadly it did no such thing, much to SR's annoyance, and he reluctantly turned back...

 

And froze.

 

The first thing that caught his attention was the barrel of a Boltgun that hovered an inch from his face, the second was the figure wielding it. The armour was jet black that reminded him of the void of space, save for the right arm that was a deep, rich red to match his own armour. Upon the figure's left shoulder sat the the image of a silver axe, a single drop of blood dripping from it's tip. In the newcomer's right hand was a vicious-looking battlaxe, the flame-like design on it's blades glowing with barely-restrained energy.

The third, and argueably most important thing he noticed however, was the face that glared back at him from behind the Bolter with a mix of suspicion and anger. The face was perfectly identical to his own, right down to the stubble on his chin.

 

"So..." The other-him asked slowly, a undertone of violence in his voice.

"Who, in the Primarch's name, are you?"

[Olis]

Welcome to the party Sanguiniusreborn. I'm sure the more alternate selves will show up sooner or later... Speaking of alternate selves - where's Cormac? The group he's in should be able to get up to some sort of shenanigans. Mexican stand-offs... finding a raid boss... getting inexplicably lost... doppelganger crazinesss... :D 

[Ace Debonair]

Welcome to the party Sanguiniusreborn. I'm sure the more alternate selves will show up sooner or later... Speaking of alternate selves - where's Cormac? The group he's in should be able to get up to some sort of shenanigans. Mexican stand-offs... finding a raid boss... getting inexplicably lost... doppelganger crazinesss...

Watching an entire squad's worth of of Heru Talon marching around and group spine-flailing a panicking horde of creatures...

Bickering about who came from the coolest homeworld...

Everyone everywhere (except me) agreeing the Sons of =][=DELETED=][= have a pretty awful colour scheme...

Yeah, fun times to be had, for definite.

[Heru]

Welcome to the party Sanguiniusreborn. I'm sure the more alternate selves will show up sooner or later... Speaking of alternate selves - where's Cormac? The group he's in should be able to get up to some sort of shenanigans. Mexican stand-offs... finding a raid boss... getting inexplicably lost... doppelganger crazinesss...

Watching an entire squad's worth of of Heru Talon marching around and group spine-flailing a panicking horde of creatures...

That isn't how it works Ace.

There can only be one.

[Nomus Sardauk]

Welcome to the party Sanguiniusreborn. I'm sure the more alternate selves will show up sooner or later...

I was already here Olis, I just got :cuss drunk and fell asleep in the corner for a bit is all. :p

[Conn Eremon]

An idea strikes!

 

But I think I might feel like a jerk if I went through with it . . . 

 

Bah. Like that's ever stopped me before. Stay tuned!