Tales of Angrish

Tales of Angrish

Chapter six: COME GET US FAGGOTS

Veteran Crusher smashed another one of the small eggs between his fingers, a strange feeling of brutal joy coming from the motion.
“HEY, PINKFAG, GIVE ME MORE EGGS TO SMASH.”
“But you already broke twenty three, this will the egg-iest cake in history." Pinkie protested.
“LESS BITCHING MORE SMASHING.” He roared back. He spun around to face the counter, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of one of his fellow marines. “NEWFAG, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT YOU’RE WEARING?”
“IT’S AN APRON YOU COCKSUCKER.” Newfag yelled back.
True to his word, the marine was wearing a floral apron several sizes too small for him.
“TAKE THAT OFF, YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING PRETTY MARINE WANKING AROUND WITH FLOWERS. NOW GO YELL AT THE WALL FOR THE NEXT HOUR YOU PUSSY.”
The marine tore the offending garment off and threw it in a nearby bin before stomping outside to find something to yell at.
“I thought that was a nice apron.” Pinkie said, nudging the torn fabric.
“MAYBE FOR YOU COCKSUCKERS. NOW MORE EGGS BITCH.” He roared, slamming his fist down on the counter and splitting it in half. The crack of snapping wood was drowned out as the back door flew off its hinges and splinted against the wall. The fuming form of Pounder marched in, crushing the floor into splinters under his heavy steps.
“GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER CRUSHER, WE GOT SOME ARSES TO POUND.” He looked around the crowded kitchen at the trio of Angry Marines.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” He bellowed at one of the marines who was intently staring at a pot of gently boiling water.
“I’M SIMMERING WITH RAGE, SIR.” The marine yelled, gesturing wildly with a spatula.
“WELL PULL YOUR FIST OUT OF YOUR ARSE AND DO SOMETHING FOR ME.” He grabbed the marine by the helmet and dragged him along the ground. “GO WITH DICK FLOPPLE OVER HERE AND BRING THE BATTLE BARGES TO THIS SHITHOLE. I DON’T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU HAVE TO GET MATT FUCKING WARD TO WRITE SOME HORSE SHIT ABOUT TRANS DIMENSIONAL JUMPS BUT YOU FUCKING DO IT.” He dragged the marine outside and threw him next to a nervously waiting Twilight. “REST OF YOU, LOOK AT THIS SHIT.” He threw a small folder at the remaining trio of marines.
“CHAOS PRETTY MARINES?! I’D RATHER FIGHT SLAANESHI FAGGOTS ANY DAY.” One of them roared as they looked over the pictures. “HOW DID THOSE COCKLICKERS GET HERE?”
“FUCKED IF I KNOW. JUST SMASH THEIR FACES IN, GOT IT?”

***

Lord Krull, Dark lord of beauty and fashion, fidgeted uncomfortably in his command pulpit. The rough edges were scuffing the polish on his armour and he could feel it.
“Man slave!” he bellowed, his voice unusually high pitched, more akin to a pre-pubescent Canadian teenager than a Space Marine. A hunched figure dressed in pink and covered in leather emerged from behind him.
“Yes lord?” he rasped.
“Fetch mother dearest, I’m sure she’ll want to see this.”
“At once my lord.”
Krull shifted in his chair and pouted as he felt the sharp edge of his throne scrape another perfectly applied layer of polish off.
“Bring up the forward display again, I want to show mummy when she gets here.” He ordered one of the bridge crew sweetly. “And polish those boots young man, they look hideous; if they aren’t spotless by your next round you’ll be first into the ritual pit.”
The man nodded silently, sweat forming on his brow.
“And form a landing party; I want to see this place for myself.” The chaos lord added, brushing a speck of dust off his armour before one of his attendant guards noticed.
One of the guards nodded and moved out of the bridge, careful not to scuff his own armour on one the jagged metal plates around the bulkhead.
Krull curled his lip up, revealing a set of sharp teeth as he remembered how the damage had been inflicted and how they had been hurled here… well wherever here was.
“Repair status on the garden beds in sector three?” He asked absentmindedly.
“Flowers are regrowing; three slaves were eaten in the last cycle though.
“Good, make sure they are kept well fed.”
It had surprised them all, who honestly expected to see a Baneblade rip open a warp portal inside the ship and go on a brief rampage through his personal gardens? Certainly not Krull. The Baneblade had cheerfully cut down a score of Krull’s finest warriors before reaching the engineering spaces and damaged their warp engine with a stray shell. The remaining marines had managed to lock the rampaging tank in the massive engineering spaces, preventing it from causing any further damage. Or so he had thought.
Despite their preventive measures, the city block sized tank was still occasionally spotted outside engineering, often vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Krull had ordered a warp field erected around the engineering spaces and that had finally stopped the impossible tank’s impossible expeditions.
For now.
He shook the memory from his mind as a sliding door caught his attention. A deceptively young looking woman stepped out, her hair tied up in a simple bun. Although Krull’s mother looked no more than 30 years of age, she was several centuries old, her sorcerous powers and pacts with the gods of chaos preserving her youth.
“What is it sweetie pie?” She asked as she approached the throne. “What is you wanted mummy to see?”
He gestured at the forward view screen where a planet was slowly spinning.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” he asked “I’m sending a landing party down, would you like to join us?”
“How sweet of you to think of me. I’d love to.” She said, pinching his cheek affectionately.
“My lord, warp spike detected!” one of the bridge crew yelled.
“Where?” Krull asked, snapping to face the serf.
“Triangulating… There.” An arrow appeared on the surface of the planet where the sensors had detected the warp energy.
Krull’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Teleportation?” He asked, unable to think of any other reason.
“Probably.”
“New thermal signal… Wha-…”
“Show me.” Krull snapped.
The image on the screen zoomed in further to show the surface of the planet. A large burning smear filled the screen.
“What is it?”
“Sorry my lord, zoomed in too far.”
The image snapped out and the screen was filled with the burning image of a raised middle finger. Beneath the slur was a large statement, also written in fire.
‘COME GET US FAGGOTS.’
“Angry Marines…” Krull fumed, spinning to face the nearest guard. “Prepare my shuttle immediately!”