Tales of Angrish

by Killbles

Rating: mature
Tags: Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Other, Random, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Human
Length: 20087

An Angry Marine finds himself in Equestira. This can't end well.

"ALWAYS ANGRY! ALL THE TIME!"
- Angry Marine Battle cry

When an Angry Marine finds himself in Equestria, how will he cope in the bright, colourful, unangry cartoon land? Will he return to shove a chair up the ass of the sorcerer who sent him there?

I have seriously no idea what the hell I am writing, this came to me at 4am in the morning, well past the point were my brain is making sound, logical choices. Lets just see where this goes and hope it doesn't get any more pants-on-head retarded than it already is.

-Warning: This story contains lots of VERY coarse language and an angry as hell Space Marine in Equestria. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Published 2012-09-05 21:44:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-06 11:10:22 UTC

WHERE THE @#$! AM I?

Tales of Angrish

Part One: WHERE THE @#$! AM I?

The chaos marine emerged over the lip of the battered wall, roaring in savage glee as he fired his bolter into the fleeing and panicking guardsmen beyond. Next to him several other of his battle brothers scrambled over the rubble to get to grips with the enemy. A pair of noise marines clambered over the wall next to him and unleashed their sonic weapons into the Imperial line, the sounds of their high-pitched laughter cutting through the sounds of battle.
“Death to the servants of the corpse god!” the marine yelled, punching a gauntleted fist in the air in triumph. Looking skyward, he saw a faint orange smudge in the storm racked sky, several smudges in fact. Looking closer, he recognised the faint outlines of drop pods falling towards them.
“More meat for the slaughter!” he yelled. The cry was taken up by several of his fellow marines as they watched the pods descend, something seemed wrong though. The drop pods should have been slowing down by now; retro-thrusters firing so their contents wouldn’t arrive as a fine red mist. The marine’s eyes shot wide open as he realised one of drop pods was making a bee line towards him.
“Out of my way!” he yelled, turning to shove one of the oblivious noise marines out of the way. Too late though as a bright yellow pod, somehow unscarred by the ferocious heat of atmospheric entry smashed into him, turning him into little more than a red and pink stain on the ground. A moment later, the pods doors blew open, revealing ten similarly yellow clad warriors carrying a dizzying array of close combat weapons. Within seconds, several other pods had smashed into the chaos lines with impunity.
“ALWAYS ANGRY!” one of the yellow marines yelled out, his voice cutting through the roar of battle.
“ALL THE TIME!” the remainder echoed.

"WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT? ANOTHER SLAANESHI GAYLORD WARBAND. GODDAMNIT, IF I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN I'LL RIP THAT FUCKING MAKEUP FROM YOUR FACE YOU INSECURE RHINOCEROUS!!" Pounder yelled as he smashed a surprised Chaos marine across the face with his power chair. The blow sent the marine hurtling to the ground, a ragged tear across his armour from where the chair’s crackling power field had effortlessly cut through.
“OH DID I SCAR YOUR FUCKING PRETTY FACE? BOO HOO BITCH.” he yelled for emphasis as he curb stomped the downed marine.
“Death to the servants of the corpse god!” a pink armoured marine yelled as he charged at Pounder, a viciously roaring chainsword gripped in one hand.
“OH SORRY, I DIDN’T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF HOW FUCKING ANGRY I AM!” Pounder roared, pummelling the overeager warrior into the mud with another swing of his power chair.
All around him, his angry brothers were butchering their way through the chaos warband, curses and profanities spewing from their lips with force of a Baneblade’s main cannon. A few Angry Marines had fallen, mostly too the enemies trickery and use of warp power, rather than through their strength of arms.
“APOTHECARY!” one of Pounder’s marines yelled out as his arm was ripped off by a ravening blast of energy.
Ignoring the intensifying enemy fire, Pounder jumped to his feet and heedless of the danger, bounded over to the injured marine.
“PUT THAT LIMB BACK ON AND START FIGHTING! IF YOU CAN’T GET IT TO STICK IN PLACE JUST FUCKING THROW IT AT THEM YOU FAGGOT.” He yelled, picking up and hurling the marines severed arm at a nearby cultist for emphasis. The unlucky cultist’s head caved in as the armoured limb smashed into him.
“NOW GET BACK IN THE FIGHT YOU WEEABOO!” he yelled again, charging forward once more. Spotting a chaos sorcerer hurling Warp fire at his comrades, Pounder changed his course and slaughtered a path towards the renegade pysker.
“Your soul shall be mine!” the sorcerer cackled as he hurled a spear of pink tinted fire at him.
“YOU PUSSY, MAGIC IS FOR FAGGOTS AND SPACE ELVES.” Pounder bellowed, shrugging of the effects of the warp power by sheer anger alone. He swung his power chair down at the sorcerer who blocked with his staff.
“THAT’S A NICE STAFF YOU HAVE THERE FAG, DID YOUR FUCKING BOYFRIEND MAKE IT FOR YOU?”
“I will enjoy killing you lapdog!” the Chaos Marine growled back. “It will be painful beyond your reckoning.”
“NOT AS MUCH PAIN AS YOU’RE GOING TO FEEL WHEN I SHOVE THIS CHAIR UP YOUR ARSE!” Pounder yelled back, hitting the sorcerer across the chest with his chair. The sorcerer’s armour caved in and he fell backwards. Pounder thrust his fist in the air in triumph.
“THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU FAGGOT, YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST SHOT YOURSELF AND STOPPED WASTING MY TIME.” Pounder said as he searched for a new target. Unseen to him the sorcerer raised himself up on an elbow and cast a new spell, a last vengeance to unleash upon his angry foe. With an angry roar, a crack in reality appeared and a raging hole into the immaterium appeared underneath Pounder.
Defying gravity for a moment, the angry marine looked back at the sorcerer, his eternally angry features somehow even angrier.
“FUUUUUU-.” Was all he managed before he was sucked into the warp and the portal closed on itself.

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT! I’M GOING TO FIND THAT COCKSUCKER AND TEAR HIM AN NEW ARSEHOLE.” He looked around at the swirling vortexes of emotion and insanity that was the warp. Hell wouldn’t be a bad description for it. Any mortal would have driven insane from even a moment of exposure to the raw energy of the warp, but Pounder was so angry he disregarded it like he would a Tyranid Ripper under the sole of his boot. He let out a choice collection of four letter swears and curses. An eternity of floating through the warp did not appeal to Pounder. As he floated, a dim circle appeared near him and started intensifying until it shone with a brilliant blue aura. Sudden it split apart and a large warship ploughed through, oblivious to the stranded marine.
“HEY YOU COCKSUCKERS GET OVER HERE AND PICK ME UP. I’VE GOT AN ARSE THAT STILL NEEDS A CHAIR SHOVED UP IT.”
The ship ignored him and continued moving through the warp.
“HEY DON’T YOU IGNORE ME YOU METAL PIECE OF SHIT. GO GET YOU SHIT FIXED OR I'LL GET A TECHMARINE AND GET HIM TO FIX YOUR SHIT. LITERALLY.” He yelled as the ship floated past silently.
As the tail of the ship past him, the backwash from the plasma drives sent him spinning towards the still closing warp portal it had left.
“YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU! I’LL MAKE MY OWN WAY OUT. STUPID GAY PIECE OF SHIT.” He yelled at the departing vessel, making an ancient and crude gesture with his middle finger.
With that, Pounder gripped the edge of the portal back into the materium and ripped it open, creating a new gateway back into the real world.

After several seconds of cursing and fighting off daemons with his bare fists and almost tangible anger, Pounder crawled through the makeshift portal and in an unusual show of responsibility, sealed it back up to prevent the warp energy from leaking through.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT?” Pounder bellowed as he suddenly started falling. Based on the temperature his armour’s external temperature gauge was now reading, he must have materialised high in the planet’s atmosphere.
Pounder let out a long “FUUUUUUUUU-.” All the way down, falling like a star as his armour caught fire from the intense heat.
As usual though, Pounder didn't give a shit.
As he fell further into the atmosphere, he noticed something was different. Everything appeared to be cartoony, there were no storms, no flashes of battle and everything seemed too bright and cheery. It hurt his eyes to look at the ground so he closed them and wait for the inevitable bone-jarring crash. Pounder cracked open an eye, surprised by how much closer the ground was.
"I'M GONNA MESS YOUR SHIT UP GROUND." He bellowed, determined to enact some vengeance on this planet before his possible demise. "FUUUUUUUUUCKKKK YOU" He roared as he ploughed into the dirt, carving a several hundred meter long scar in the otherwise pristine earth.
Dusting himself off, Pounder picked himself off the ground, crunching a patch of vitrified earth under his ceramite boots and he looked around. A trail of blackened grass and trees showed the destructive trail he had left in his descent from orbit. Much to his amusement, it appeared that he had destroyed at least one poor unfortunate furry creatures home.
“THAT WAS FUCKING RIDICULOUS; HOW THE FUCK DID I NOT SET THE FUCKING GROUND ON FIRE? I WAS LIKE A GODDAMN FIREBALL.” he roared, pounding the ground several times with his fist but failing to make any real difference besides a sizeable fist-shaped crater.
“FUCK YOU GROUND!” he yelled before looking up. He appeared to be in the middle of a pastel green field, a shade so bubbly and bright it pained him to stare at it for too long. The world around him was a similar sort of colour and had a similar effect on his senses. Pounder felt his anger levels rise as a sickeningly sweet pair of butterflies flew past his visor. In the distance a quaint village sat across a river; dozens of small shapes could be seen running around and between the houses in panic.
Pounder didn’t like this place. Wherever ‘This place’ was.
“AT LEAST IT’S BETTER THAN THE FUCKING WARP. AT LEAST I’VE GOT SHIT I CAN MESS UP HERE.” He growled, stomping a flower into the dirt.
"YEAH, TAKE THAT FLOWER. FUCK YOU FOR GETTING IN MY WAY."
“Excuse me sir, are you alright?”
Pounder spun around and found himself looking down at a small pony that barely came up to his knee. It was hideously pastel lavender with a deep purple mane. A single pink highlight ran through its mane and tail. A strange looking horn stuck out of its head and was pointed squarely at Pounders forehead. Its voice was undoubtedly female.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?” he cried out, reeling back in horror. “WHAT FAGGOTRY IS THIS?”
The pony drew back slightly at his booming voice.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, THIS PLACE MAKES ME WANT TO PUKE. DON’T TELL ME I’VE ENDED UP ON THE FUCKING PRETTY MARINE HOME WORLD. THOSE FAGS ARE FUCKING UNBEARABLE. I BET THEY WOULD LOVE HIS PLACE, FULL OF BRIGHT COLOURS AND SHITTY TALKING PONIES. ALL GAY AND PRETTY FOR THEM.”
“Excuse me?” the pony said, perhaps a little offended
“ALRIGHT I’LL PLAY ALONG, WHERE THE FUCK AM I?”
“Could you speak a little softer maybe?”
“FUCK NO, ANGRY MARINES HAVE TWO VOLUMES: LOUD AND EVEN FUCKING LOUDER. QUIET TALK IS FOR PUSSIES.”
The pony cocked her head in confusion, she didn’t understand most of what this new ‘thing’ that had fallen from the sky was saying, but judging by the tone of voice and the inflection of the words, it didn’t sound very friendly.
“You’re in Equestria. But I have a better question for you. What are you?”
“OH GREAT, EQUESTIA, SOUNDS LIKE SOME NAME THE THOSE PRETTY MARINE FAGS WOULD GIVE TO SOMETHING. I’M DEFINITELY ON ONE OF THEIR GAY PLANETS.
“Pretty Marine?”
“GAY FAGS WHO SERVE THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND.” Pounder explained pointedly. He turned on his heel and marched off, the pony following at his heels.
She shook her head. “Never heard of an Emperor or Mankind.” She suddenly looked excited. “Are there more of you?”
“WHAT’S WITH ALL THE FUCKING QUESTIONS? DO I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING LIBRARY? I HAVE A BETTER QUESTION. WHY AM I TALKING WITH A FUCKING LITTLE PONY” Pounder bellowed, coming to a stop and glaring at the small horse.
“What does ‘Fuck’ mean?” Twilight asked curiously.
“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW, I JUST USE IT ALL THE TIME SO I SOUND MORE FUCKING ANGRY, YOU GOT THAT YOU STUPID HORSE?”
“Hey I’m not fucking stupid!” Twilight angrily responded,. Her angry expression became one of glee as she managed to use the new word in context.
Pounder laughed loudly. “HOLY FUCK, I’M A FUCKING GENIUS, I TAUGHT A PONY HOW TO FUCKING SWEAR IN UNDER A MINUTE. I BET ALL THOSE PRETTY MARINE FAGS WILL LOVE THIS. SPEAKING OF THEM, WHERE THE FUCK ARE THOSE DICKWADS? OH YEAH, THEY WERE PROBABLY TOO FUCKING BUSY BLOW DRYING THEIR HAIR AND DUSTING THEIR ARMOUR OFF TO NOTICE ME FALLING FROM SPACE." He stopped for a moment and looked around, noticing how ridiculous this situation was. "WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL TALKING WITH A PONY?”
“And why am I talking with a yellow giant who fell out of the sky?”
“BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS AND EVERYBODY HATES YOU, BITCH.”
The pony looked a little rustled. “I have plenty of friends. Would you like to meet them?”
“NO WAY, I’M NOT FUCKING GOING TO SOME SHITTY MEET AND GREET.”
“Oh please! You can teach me more about this ‘Fuck’ and all these other strange words you keep using.” She offered.
Pounder stopped and thought for a moment. If there was anything he liked more than beating the shit of stuff with his power chair, it was pissing off Pretty Marines. If he could get more of these ponies talking like him, it sure as hell would piss the Pretty Marines off.
“FINE, BUT IF I SEE ONE FUCKING PRISSY PIECE OF SHIT, I’M OUT.”
“So what can I call you? ‘Big yellow giant who fell from the sky’ doesn’t have quite the ring to it.”
“YOU CAN CALL ME POUNDER. OR 'MESSES UP FAGS UP WITH A POWER CHAIR'. YOUR CHOICE.”
“Nice to meet you Pounder, my name is Twilight Sparkle.”
“TWILIGHT SPARKLE? THAT’S A NICE NAME; I BET THOSE PRETTY MARINES FAGS WERE HAVING A WHOLE LOT OF WANK OVER THAT.”
Twilight again cocked her head to the side in confusion. “I don’t get it.”
“HOLY SHIT THIS IS GOING TO BE HARD.” Pounder bellowed, rubbing his helmet.

“So what are you?” Twilight asked. The pair had been walking for a little while now, Pounder complaining about how bright, cheerful and ‘Gay’ everything was. He apparently was in severe pain from all the ‘Faggotry’ everywhere.
“I’M AN ANGRY MARINE. I BEAT SHIT AND GENERALLY BE ANGRY.”
“Sounds… fun?” Twilight guessed
“FUN, IT’S THE BEST THING EVER." Pounder said, his voice taking on a hint of excitement for the first time. "BEATING THE SHIT OUT A PANSY SPACE ELF OR A BUNCH OF THOSE SLAANESHI PRICKS, THEN WE’LL GO HAVE A SHIT TON TO DRINK AND ORDER LIKE A THOUSAND PIZZAS TO THE PRETTY MARINE HOMEWORLD AND STICK IN SOME DVDS OF 7TH HEAVEN OR TWILIGHT OR OTHER GAY SHIT LIKE THAT IN AND MAYBE SOME REALLY HARDCORE PORN OR SOMETHING. LOOKS LIKE YOU GUYS COULD USE SOMETHING LIKE THAT. THIS PLACE REALLY HURTS MY FUCKING HEAD. IT'S LIKE FUCKING BRAIN CANCER."
“I’ll take a note of that.” She levitated a quill up and wrote it down on a piece of parchment she had.
“HOLY FUCK, HOW THE HELL DID YOU THAT? DON’T TELL ME IT WAS FUCKING MAGIC.”
“It was… magic?” she said cautiously.
“HERESY! BURN THE WITCH!” he yelled jumping at her. While he had lost his power chair in the short trip through the warp, his armoured fists would do fine in tearing the heretical equine limb from limb.
“Woah!” Twilight cried out, jumping backwards and casting another spell to freeze Pounder. He was stopped mid bound, his helmet lenses seemingly moving and growing with rage.
“PUT ME DOWN YOU FUCKING WITCH! I’M GOING TO BEAT YOU UP SO HARD AND TE-.” He was cut short by Twilight placing a silencing spell on him.
“Magic is not heresy. It’s normal. Everypony has it. Well, all the unicorns do at least. Now pull yourself together or I’ll send you back to where you came from.” she threatened
She unsilenced him so he could talk back.
“OH I’D FUCKING LOVE THAT, I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS GAY SHITTY PLANET, JUST FLING ME BACK INTO SPA-.” He was cut off again as Twilight flicked her head back and sent him hurtling into the sky.
“What the fuck just happened?” she asked herself, experimenting with the strange new word she had learnt. Shrugging nonchalantly, she continued trotting to Ponyville. The yellow giant was somepony else's problem now.

MORE SLAANESHI FAGS?

Tales of Angrish

Part Two: MORE SLAANESHI FAGS?

A resounding crash sounded through the Carousel Boutique, making Rarity jump in fright.
“You didn’t do that did you Pinkie Pie?”she asked with concern.
Pinkie’s gaze rocketed skywards as she thought hard.
“Nope! Nothing of mine should have done that… at least for another few hours. I mean unless there was a misfire or one of the fuses was cut too short or a silly filly wondered what that button would do...”
Rarity stared at her friend for a moment, a look of pure incomprehension. on her face.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing!” Pinkie said dismissively, leaping off the podium she was standing on.
“Pinkie, get back up there! However am I supposed to use you as a model if you are bouncing around like that?”
“But I want to see what the big crash was!” Pinkie whined.
“I’m sure it was Sweetie or one of her friends. They’re always getting into some sort of mischief.” Rarity said ushering Pinkie back to the podium.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? AM I ON A PLANET POPULATED JUST BY GAY LITTLE SHITS?” A booming voice roared out from downstairs.
“That doesn’t sound like Sweetie…” Rarity muttered with concern. “She would never use such… foul language.”
Pinkie’s ears shot up instantly.
“NEW PONY!” She squealed in delight, racing out of the door in a bright pink whirlwind.
“Oh Pinkie… Do be car-.” Rarity winced as heard several loud crashes come from the foyer.
“OH FUCK NO, MORE SLAANESHI FUCKTARDS!” A voice yelled out as another squeal of delight floated through the open door.
Rarity cast one more disappointed look at the discarded dress before galloping after her friend.

Pounder’s eye twitched violent, the movement transferring to his helmet lenses as the knee high pony bounced around him in a sickeningly cheerful manner. He wasn’t sure whether the bright shade of ‘FAGGOT PINK’ or her obnoxious singing was more rage inducing.
His fingers twitched reflexively, reaching for his missing power chair. He wanted to do nothing more than smash this pink little faggot across the face with it.
“WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU SLAANESHI FAG?” He bellowed, his arm whipping out and picking Pinkie Pie up in a vicious throat hold. Despite his gauntleted fist crushing the pony’s windpipe, she continued babbling, unaffected by such trivial things such as a need for oxygen.
“YOU OPEN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH ONE MORE TIME AND I’M GOING TO USE YOU TO PLAY ‘PIN THE PONY ON THE CARNIFEX’.” Pounder roared.
The pink pony was unfazed.
“That sounds like fun!” Pinkie giggled, slipping out of his grip as if she had suddenly been covered in grease. “Do you have a Carnifex here? Doesn’t matter, I’m sure I have one in my party box. I have everything in my party box."
Pounder fell silent for a moment. “YOU’RE HURTING MY HEAD BITCH.” He finally yelled. “JUST SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH.”
Pinkie ignored him and started babbling about welcoming him to Ponyville.
“Hey, since you’re new here I’m going to have to throw you a party!” She yelled excitedly.
“A PARTY? WILL THERE BE BOOZE?” Pounder asked, suddenly curious.
Pinkie shook her head. “This is a kids show remember!”
“WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT ABOUT BITCHES?”
Pinkie shook her head again. “No bitches.”
“WHAT THE HELL SORT OF GAY FAGGOT PARTY DO YOU THROW AROUND HERE THEN?”
“They’re so much fun! We play games, sing songs, eat awesome-super-delicious cupcakes and then we’ll all be friends!”
“I’M NOT GOING TO BE YOUR FRIEND AND I’M NOT GOING TO SOME GAY COCKSICKLE PARTY YOU STUPID SLAANESHI PRICK. ONLY SOMETHING SO PANTS-ON-HEAD-RETARDEDLY STUPID WOULD WANT TO BE AROUND YOU.”
“You’re… You’re… Not going to be my friend?” Pinkie asked, her annoying bubbly behaviour bursting like a balloon. Tears started welling up in her eyes.
“NO, NOW GO BAWL YOUR EYES OUT YOU STUPID WHORE, MAYBE YOU CAN GO SUCK SOME OTHER FAGS DICK AND HARDEN THE FUCK UP. BOO-HOO, BITCH.”
Pounder roared, picking Pinkie up and throwing her towards a window.
“FUCKING SCORE!” He yelled fist pumping the air as Pinkie sailed cleanly through the window.
“Stop that right now you… you… brute!” An upper-class voice cried out from behind him. Pounder wheeled around, ready to take on this new interloper.
“HAHAHA! WHAT ARE YOU A TALKING MARSHMALLOW?” He roared with laughter as he saw his new target.
“Get out of my shop now!” The white pony ordered.
“THIS IS YOUR SHOP? NO WONDER IT REEKS OF FAGGORY. DON’T SUPPOSE YOU’VE GOTTEN ANY HARDCORE PORN MAGAZINES AND NOT JUST FUCKING FRILLY DRESSES DO YOU?
Rarity hid a blush. The yellow giant either was either guessing or somehow knew about her secret collection of books hidden under her bed.
“I... I said out, you ruffian! Or else!”
“OH, I’M SO SCARED.” Pounder wailed in mock fear. “I’M GONNA FUCK YOUR SHIT UP!” He roared, grabbing a permanent marker from a storage compartment in his armour. Within a few seconds the walls were covered in crude scribblings, phalluses and raised middle fingers being most common. A few choice swear words were thrown in for good measure.
“I’M MESSING WITH YOUR SHIT BITCH.” Pounder laughed as he continued to graffiti the front room of the boutique with gusto.
“Stop that right now!” Rarity yelled, trying to sound brave but her voice cracked in fear.
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? POKE ME TO DEATH WITH YOUR LITTLE FAGGOTY HORN?” Pounder bellowed, smashing a mannequin to splinters over his knee. “I’M QUIVERING IN FEAR…” He trailed off as he noticed the ground starting to shake.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” he yelled as the roar of an engine and the smell of burning promethium suddenly reached his senses. Pounder’s eyes lit up as he recognised the smell. Imperial tank fuel.
“MAYBE THOSE PRETTY MARINE FAGS HAVE COME TO SAVE THEIR FUCKING LITTLE PONIES. OR MAYBE THEY’VE COME FOR THEIR LATEST DRESS ORDER.” He yelled, searching for the source of the noise.
Impossibly, it was coming from behind a small door at the back of the room.
“HOW THE FU-.” Pounder managed to say before the wall exploded outwards as a house sized Baneblade smashed through into the foyer. The mighty tank effortlessly rolled over the debris, its hull mounted demolisher cannon tracking towards Pounder.
With a bang that sounded like the world ending, the gun discharged, sending the fuming Marine flying into the sky.
“FUCKING TACTICAL GENIUS.” Pounder roared as he arched through the sky towards a farm. “CREEEEEEEEEEED!”

Rarity opened her eyes and nearly fainted at the sight of the mighty war machine now idling in her shop. What was more surprising though, was to see Pinkie riding on the turret, an insane grin on her face. A short, stocky beast leaned out of a turret hatch next to her, a cigar that emanated power and manliness clenched firmly between his teeth.
“Thanks for the tank Mr. Creed.” Pinkie said cheerfully, leaping down several meters from the turret to the ground.
“Any time Pinkie. Just give me a call.” The squat man replied back throwing her a lopsided grin. He banged on the cupola several times. “Right, forward. Full power!” he roared, the tank chugging into motion beneath him.
“Bye Mr. Creed!” Pinkie yelled as the Tank charged out of the boutique, crashing through another wall effortlessly. A few cries of surprise and fear came from outside as the massive vehicle roared through the village.
Rarity stared dumbstruck as the metal monster chugged out of view.
“Pinkie… What… What was that?”
“Oh just called in a favour from an old friend, you know how it is.” She said waving a hood dismissively.
“How… How… did… that... that thing, get in my kitchen?” Rarity asked, turning to face the back wall. What she found most disturbing of all was that the there was only one hole in the wall, the one the tank had made as it thundered out. Somehow, the tank had been in her kitchen the whole time without anyone noticing. It was almost if the tank had just magically appeared.
Pinkie shrugged. “Mr. Creed is good at that. I don’t even know how he does it, he tells me he can’t do it to horses though, because that’s just silly apparently.”
Rarity was stunned into silence. A beam of wood dislodged from the roof and fell to the floor with a loud crash.
“So were we designing this dress or what?” Pinkie asked, turning to her friend as if nothing had ever happened.
“I…I…I…”
Rarity fainted.

YOU’RE A FUCKING SLEDGEHAMMER.

Tale of Angrish
Part three: YOU’RE A FUCKING SLEDGEHAMMER.

“Come on Applejack, you can do better than that.” Rainbow jeered as Applejack slipped over her.
“Shut yer mouth.” Applejack grunted as she forced herself against the cyan Pegasus again.
“You’ve gotten weak AJ, we should do this more often.”
“Really?”
“Yeah… and I’ll win every time. I’ll always last longer than you will.”
“You’re on.” Applejack groaned through clenched teeth. “How’d you get so good at it?”
“I practice, mostly on stallions but some of the mares in town are eager for a try as well.” Rainbow panted.
“FUCKING HELL! SMASH IT HARDER.”
“What was that?” Rainbow asked, looking up from the orange farmer.
“Nuthin, now back at it Rainbow.” Applejack gasped, amazed at how good the Pegasus was even when she was distracted.
“YOU BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF SHIT WITH YOUR HOOVES YOU DUMB FUCK, OR, BARRING THAT, BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF SHIT WITH WHATEVER'S AVAILABLE. AND IF YOU'RE TOO PANTS-ON-HEAD-RETARDED TO FIND SOMETHING TO HIT THEN YOU BETTER FUCKING START BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF THE GROUND BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED THIS PLANET HASN'T CONFESSED ITS SINS AGAINST THE EMPEROR YET.” The mysterious voice yelled again.
Rainbow looked up again. “Seriously, what is that?”
“I said it was nuthin, now back down here.”
“Fine...” Rainbow muttered, returning to the orange mare.
“Hey AJ, you don’t know what that mighty ruckus down on the sou-.” Big Mac trailed off as he entered the room and took in the sight in front of him.
Applejack looked up at her wide-eyed brother.
“What, ain’t you ever see two mares hoof wrestle before?”
“Ee-yup, that just didn’t sound like hoof wrestling to me.” Big Mac said truthfully.
“That’s disgusting.” Rainbow said, her face going pale.
“Now as I was sayin’, what’s with the ruckus down on the south field, and where have Applebloom and those little friends of hers gone?”
Applejack’s gaze unfocused for a moment as her brain put two and two together to get five.
“AJ? What’s wrong?” Rainbow asked, fluttering above Applejack.
“This can’t be good…” She finally said, barging past Big Mac and galloping towards the south fields, Big Mac and Rainbow Dash at her heels.

“Ah’m not a sledgehammer!” Applebloom cried as Pounder swung her up and down.
“WELL YOU SURE AS HELL WORK AS A PRETTY FUCKING GOOD ONE YOU WHINY LITTLE BITCH!” He yelled, smashing her into the old barn several times.
“Put me down!”
“OK, HEY SHITHEAD! GO LONG!” He bellowed at nothing in particular before punting Applebloom out of sight.
“HEY, YOU. ORANGE CHICKEN, GET UP HERE!” He bellowed from the roof of the barn down at the other two Cutie Mark Crusaders.
“W-W-why?” Scootaloo asked nervously.
“YOU’RE NOT BASHING SHIT DOWN THERE SO YOU CAN BASH SHIT UP HERE. BESIDES, I NEED A NEW SLEDGEHAMMER AND YOU PONIES MAKE PRETTY FUCKING NEAT CUDGELS.”
“I don’t like the sound of that…” Scootaloo whimpered.
“WELL THEN MAYBE WE CAN PLAY A GAME OF LICK THE CATACHAN BARKING TOAD YOU PIECE OF KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN.” Pounder roared, smashing another hole in the roof with his fists.
“Fried… Chicken?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“FUCKING HELL, DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING MYSELF?” Pounder yelled, leaping down from the barn with an earth shaking impact.
Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle instinctively drew away.
“YOU KNOW WHAT, FUCK YOU!” Pounder yelled at them. He pulled several grenades off his belt and in one deft motion threw the bundle inside the badly beaten barn. A few seconds later the barn erupted in a massive fireball as the grenades exploded.
“THAT’S HOW IT’S DONE BITCHES!” Pounder roared, picking Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle up by their tails.
“NOW YOU TWO GET YOUR PUSSY ARSES IN ORDER BEFORE I SHOVE A POWER BOOT SO FAR UP THERE YOU’LL WISH YOU WERE A SQUAT.”
“Yes sir.” They replied shakily.
“Beats Fags With A Power Chair, what are ya doing?!” A southern voice yelled out from behind them.
“HEY THE DICKWAD IS BACK. I’M FUCKING SHIT UP JUST LIKE YOU TOLD ME TO BITCH.”
“Put those fillies down!” Applejack ordered.
Pounder obediently dropped the two fillies face first into the dirt.
“Whoa, what is that thing Applejack?” asked a new voice.
“I’M A FUCKING ANGRY MARINE YOU GAY RAINBOW FAG.” Pounder yelled at the flying pony.
“What did you call me?” Rainbow asked, shooting right up into Pounder’s face.
“A GAY RAINBOW FAG YOU FAG.” Pounder bellowed.
Rainbow Dash growled and held her front hooves up as if she intended to go a round of fisticuffs.
“Stick ‘em up punk! I’m gonna ground you so fast. I’m a combat specialist.”
Pounder laughed loudly. “YOUR MUMS A FUCKING COMBAT SPECIALIST... WITH MY DICK.” He plucked Rainbow effortlessly out of the air by her tail and held her at eye level. “YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT FAG, IT WAS A FURIOUS BATTLE!”
“Hey, put me down!” Rainbow Dash yelled, squirming to get out of his grip.
“IS THAT ALL YOU FUCKTARDS EVER SAY?” Pounder yelled before spinning her around and hurling her at a section of still standing wall.
“PROPERTY DAMAGE!” He bellowed as the wall came down on top of the ‘ABSOULTELY FAGGOTROCIOUS RAINBOW PONY’ with a loud crash.
“Rainbow!” Applejack cried out. “You okay?”
“Never better…” A muffled voice came from underneath the rubble.
Applejack wheeled around to face Pounder, an angry look on her face.
“Git off ma farm.”
“HOW ABOUT NO?” Pounder shot back. “I ALREADY CHECKED FOR FUCKING BANEBLADES IN THE BARN AND BEHIND ALL THE TREES SO GOOD LUCK FORCING ME OUT, BITCH. MAYBE I SHOULD SMASH SOME TREES, I HEAR WOOD SPLINTERS ARE A FUCKING BITCH TO GET OUT.”
“Big Mac, we got some pest control to do!” Applejack hollered.
The large red earth pony behind her nodded silently and moved towards Pounder.
“OH LOOK, A FUCKING TOMATO. WHO’S THIS, YOUR GAY HUSBAND?”
“He’s ma brother,” Applejack growled.
“OH SO HE’S ‘BIG MAC’, I GET IT NOW. I’D BET YOU’D KNOW HOW BIG HE IS, WOULDN’T YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING INBRED REDNECK.”
Applejack flushed red.
“WHERE’S THAT LITTLE SLEDGEHAMMER GONE? MUST HAVE BEEN SOME KINKY SHIT BETWEEN YOU TWO FOR THAT TO HAPPEN YEAH?” Pounder yelled. “YOU MAY AS WELL BE FUCKING CHAOS PRETTY MARINES WITH ALL YOUR GAY FAIRYARSED PANTSHITTERY!”
“Big Mac, get rid of him.” Applejack growled.
“Ee-yup.” Big Mac said simply before turning around and bucking Pounder in the groin. The force of the blow cracked the Angry Marine’s groin plate and sent him flying towards the Everfree forest.
“THAT WAS MY FUCKING BALLS YOU GLORFIED CUNT SNIFFING SHITBREATHED HEMORRHOID. I’LL FUCK YOU ALL UP YOU PANSY FUCKING PONY ASS-STRUMMERS. FUUUUUUUCCK YOU!” He roared as he sailed away, his eyes full of unquenchable rage against all things equine.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again.” Applejack chuckled, moving over the crumbled remains of the barn to help Rainbow Dash.
“You alright Sugarcube?” She asked as she excavated her friend from the rubble.
“Where’d he go? I’m going to buck him so hard he’ll feel it in the next life.” She growled, looking around for the Angry Marine.
“Big Mac sent him packing.” Applejack said simply. “You girls alright?” She asked the stunned Cutie Mark Crusaders.
They nodded shakily.
“Where’s Applebloom?”
“Ah’m right here Sis!” Applebloom yelled excitedly, galloping towards the small group of ponies. “Look guys, I got ma cutie mark!” She gushed, proudly displaying a massive sledgehammer emblazoned on her flank.
“Well that’s great; whoever knew your special talent was being a sledgehammer?” Applejack said, patting Applebloom on the head in a 'there-there' sort of manner.
“Applejack! Where did he go?” Rainbow interrupted. “I want to kick some arse!”
“I dunno, he flew over that way. There ain’t nothing over there but the Everfree forest and Flut-.” She stopped mid sentence, her eyes widening in horror.
“Fluttershy.” They said together.

BUTTER

Tales of Angrish

Part four: BUTTER

For the third time that day, Pounder hauled himself out of a crater with a flurry of curses.
“FUCKING GAY LITTLE COCK-SUCKING PONIES, I’M GOING RIP THEIR HEADS OFF AND SHOVE IT SO FAR UP THEIR FUCKING ARSES THEY’LL BE SEEING OUT OF THEIR THROATS.” He roared, examining his new surroundings.
He was in a dark, dank forest. The smell of decaying vegetation and the tang of the unnatural permeated the air. The quiet calls of unseen animals reached his finely tuned senses.
“AT LEAST EVERYTHING ISN’T BRIGHTER THAN A FUCKING EIGHT YEAR OLD LITTLE SHITS COLOURING BOOK IN HERE.” Pounder yelled as he carved a path through the dense foliage effortlessly.
A quiet growling off to Pounder’s right made him spin around. A pair of glowing green eyes stared out at him from the dark recesses of the forest. A moment later, several other pairs of eyes blinked into existence.
“STOP HIDING YOU PUSSY, I’LL RIP YOUR BALLS OFF AND FEED THEM TO YOU, YOU FAGGOT.” Pounder roared.
Pounder whipped around to his left at a loud bark. A waist high wolf curiously made of wood circled him and growled loudly.
“FUCKING SPACE WOLF FURRIES, WHAT ARE YOUR PUSSY LITTLE CHIWAWAS DOING HERE?” Pounder roared, pounding his chest plate.
The wolf growled louder. Pounder became aware that he was surrounded by the creatures.
“BRING IT YOU INCOMPETENT LITTLE NIPPLE LICKERS.”
The first wolf wasted no time holding back on his invitation.
“FOR THE EMPREROR, BITCHES!” Pounder roared, dodging the first wolfs lunge and shattering its neck with his fist. Splinters of wood sprayed everywhere and the creature fell to the ground limp.
“PANSY FAGGOTS!” Pounder roared as he hefted another unfortunate wolf and used it as an improvised hammer against its fellows. The wolf whimpered as Ponder swung it around in a path of destruction. “GO BACK TO YOUR FUCKING FURRY MASTERS AND BE ALL GAY AND FURRY YOU FUCKERS.” Pounder roared as the last of the pack turned to splinters under his furious blows. A few remaining wolves fled, their tails between their legs.
“THAT’S RIGHT YOU FURFAGS, RUN!” Pounder roared after the fleeing wolves.. He hurled the wolf he had been using as a hammer at a tree, destroying it in another shower of splinters.
“Eep!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP TREE!” Pounder yelled at the tree which had made the surprised sound. He marched over to it, surprised to notice a thin trailing pink strand. Following the strand he locked eyes with a butter coloured pony.
“FUCKING HELL I THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH THESE FUCKING PONYFAGS.” Pounder yelled, shaking the tree in rage.
The pony whimpered again.
“GET DOWN FROM THERE. I NEED A NEW SLEDGEHAMMER TO FUCK THAT REDNECK TOMATO UP WITH.”
The pony covered her eyes as Pounder shook the tree more viciously.
“I SAID DOWN. YOU KNOW WHICH WAY IS DOWN YOU STUPID BITCH?” Pounder roared as the yellow pony shakily spread a pair of wings and flapped through the trees away from him.
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING? I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU.” Pounder roared, sprinting after the pony. He made it a few meters before tripping over a hard metal object.
“FUCKING HELL WHAT THE HE-. YES! FUCKING SWEET!” He roared as he investigated what he tripped over.
Jammed in the mud beneath him, now with a dent from where he had kicked it, was his power chair. Effortlessly pulling it from the mud’s hold, Pounder set off after the pony.

“BUTTERSTICK, WHERE’D YOU GO?” Pounder yelled as he trekked through the forest, power chair in hand. “PROMISE I WON’T HURT YOU. OK I’M LYING, I’M GOING TO RIP YOUR FUCKING LITTLE HEAD OFF AND WEAR IT AS A HAT.”
Unsurprisingly, Pounder didn’t get a reply.
“MAYBE I CAN MAKE IT INTO A HANDBAG. I’M SURE THOSE FAGGOT MARINES WILL LOVE IT. MAYBE THEY CAN PUT THEIR DICKS IN IT OR SOMETHING. IF THEY HAD DICKS THAT IS, THOSE FUCKING PUSSIES.” Pounder roared.
He took another few steps forward and suddenly found himself at the edge of the forest. A large field with a road leading to the village he seen before lay in front of him. In the distance he saw the apple farm he had been rudely evicted from. A trail of destruction led through the town, presumably from the ‘ABSOLUTELY MOST FUCKING RIDICULOUS UNTILMATT WARD WROTE THE GREY KNIGHT CODEX ALLOWING GOD-DAMN BANEBLADES TO BE FUCKING SNEAKY’. A small cottage next to a stream lay off the Pounders left. Whether it was the plethora of small furry creatures around it or the fact the cottage looked like it was smugly staring at him, the place reeked of faggotry.
“HEY BUTTERFAG, OPEN UP.” Pounder roared as he approached the front door.
“No” Came a tiny voice.
“THERE’S ONLY ONE CORRECT ANSWER BITCH!”
“No.”
Pounder smashed his fist through the door and ripped it off its hinges.
“I said…NO!”
Pounder’s eyes widened in surprise as an ungodly fast streak of yellow flew towards the door and slammed into him with the force of a battle barge ramming a planet.
“”HOLY FUCK.” Pounder roared as the ‘SO GOD-DAMN ANGRY IT MAKES TEMPERUS MAXIMUS LOOK LIKE A FUCKING WEEABOO’ pony punched and kicked him. He felt his limbs bend in ways they weren’t supposed to and within seconds the yellow and pink ball of rage had him tied in a literal knot of limbs.
“I SAID NO YOU YELLOW DICK-ENCRUSTED PIECE OF SHIT.” Fluttershy boomed, her voice making Pounder’s seem baby like.
“WHAT THE FU-.”
“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU PUSSY. YOU THINK YOU’RE ANGRY? I’M FUCKING ANGRY, FAGGOT.”
“FUCK YOU. YOU’RE JUST A LITTLE PANSY-ARSE PONY.” Pounder roared back, freeing himself from the knot she had put him in. “I’M A FUCKING ANGRY MARINE, ANGRIEST SON-OF-A-BITCH AROUND. GOT IT DICKWAD?”
"NO ONE TRIES TO HURT ME OR MY FRIENDS GOT IT DICKHEAD?" Fluttershy roared, glaring into Pounder's eyes.
"OH GREAT, IT WAS NEARLY TIME FOR MY MIDDAY MEAL AND I WAS JUST GOING TO KILL A FUCKTON OF LITTLE BUNNIES AND SQUIRRELS, EAT IT ALL AND LEAVE NONE FOR YOU. BOO-HOO, FURFAG."
"DO YOU WANT TO BE A RIBBON ON A FUCKING CHRISTMAS PRESENT?"
The two angry forces butted heads against one another. The looks they were sharing could have burned straight through ceramite.
“YOU’RE PRETTY FUCKING ANGRY.” Pounder yelled in her face, a slightly impressed look forming under his helmet.
“I SUPPOSE YOU’RE PRETTY GOOD AT BEING ANGRY.” Fluttershy agreed though gritted teeth.
“NOT AS GOOD AS THE HEAD YOUR MUM WAS GIVING LAST NIGHT.” Pounder yelled back.
The two glared at each for another moment, pure waves of anger enveloping each other.
There was only one way this could end.

“What in tarnation?!” Applejack yelled as she and Rainbow Dash rounded a corner in Ponyville. The usual location of the town hall was now occupied by a massive pile of rubble. Several other nearby buildings were ablaze or in a similar state of ruin.
“What the hay happened here?” Rainbow asked, mouth agape.
A massive metal beast suddenly erupted through a shop front and ploughed through the town square, a squat beast barking orders from the cupola. Impossibly, the pink form of Pinkie Pie was seated next to him. The beast rumbled past the two stunned ponies before smashing through another building with impunity.
“Come on we need to find out what’s going on!” Rainbow said, snapping Applejack out of her stupor. She flew after the lumbering metal beast and landed roughly next to Pinkie.
“Oh hey there Dashie!” Pinkie said as if this was a completely normal day for her.
“Pinkie, what in the hay is going on?!” Rainbow yelled, trying to stay stable on the shuddering beast.
“Oh nothing, just an insane crossover. Can you imagine it? I mean an Angry Marine in Equestria? Ridiculous!” She giggled.
“You’ve met that punk?” Dash asked.
“Sure I have! Mr. Creed here helped me getting rid of him to first time but he’s back so we’re going to have another go!”
“Well to be fair I couldn’t resist coming here after Pinkie told me all about it on her last visit.” The stocky man said through his cigar. “I still want to know about that strange dance you taught those Kriegsmen last time you visited by the way Pinkie…”
“When you tell me how you hid the tank in Rarity’s kitchen I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Some things are meant to be kept secret.”
“WHAT IN EQUESTRIA ARE YOU TWO ON ABOUT?” Rainbow yelled exasperatedly.
“Don’t worry your little head about it Dashie!” Pinkie said, affectionately bopping Rainbow on the head.
“FUCKING LIBRARY GAY PIECE OF SHIT, GO READ YOUR FAGGOTY BOOKS SOMEWHERE ELSE YOU STUPID WITCH.” A familiar voice rang out.
“STUPID BOOKS!” Another voice agreed.
A faint crackle came from a device next to Mr. Creed.
“We’re approaching the target sir.” A voice said.
“I can bloody well hear that you frakking idiot!” Creed yelled back, silencing the vox with a rough thud.
The tank rolled around another corner granting the two ponies riding in the turret a front seat view of the source of destruction, two yellow shapes darting around the town library ripping and tearing with a fury that even a Khorne Beserker would be proud of.
Rainbow’s mouth fell open when one of the shapes suddenly came into focus.
“F-F-Fluttershy!?!”

“GOOD ONE BUTTERSTICK, NOW YOU FUCKING POUND THE SHIT OF IT AGAIN ONLY WITH SOMETHING BIGGER.” Pounder yelled at his companion.
“DAMN STRAIGHT I FUCKING WILL, AND IT’S FLUTTERSHY YOU FUCKING RETARD.”
“SHUT UP YOU COCKSICKLE, YOU LOOK LIKE FUCKING BUTTER SO YOU’RE BUTTERSTICK.”
“FUCK OFF.” Fluttershy roared loudly as she demolished another bookcase with her bare hooves.
“Fluttershy what are you doing!” Twilight yelled desperately from underneath them as the pair tore the library apart.
“BEING FUCKING ANGRY YOU PURPLE PRICK.”
“HEY, WITCHFAG, EAT THIS!” Pounder yelled before swinging an empty bookcase at Twilight. The blow sent the unicorn flying through a wall and out into the street.
“NICE ONE DICKWEED, I COULD HAVE HIT HER FURTHER THOUGH.”
“SHUT THE HELL UP BUTTERFUCK.”

Twilight crashed into the ground with a dull thud. Picking herself up she was surprised to find herself nose-to-armour plate with a massive metal gun beast.
“Hey Twilight, what are you doing down there?” Pinkie asked, waving from the turret.
“Pinkie? What are you doing up there?”
“I’m helping!” She yelled back, clearly excited that all her friends were appearing to watch her save the day.
“Helping?! Do what?”
“Getting rid of Mr. Angry pants over there!” She said, pointing a hoof at the Angry Marine tearing the library apart with a power chair.
“How can we get rid of him?” Twilight asked.
“Leave that to me.” A stocky creature said through his manly-as-fuck cigar. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small sphere.
“What is that?” Twilight asked, looking at the strange inscriptions on the device.
“Vortex grenade. Throw it at that bugger and he’ll be gone faster than you can say ‘The Emperor’s trousers.”
“Super!” Pinkie beamed. “Can I throw the grenade?”
Mr. Creed banged the turret cupola again. “Sure thing Pinkie, just make sure you have a good throwing arm.”
“Yes sir!”
Creed grinned devilishly.
“Forward, full power!”

“WHAT THE FUCK? FIFTY SHADES OF HAY? WHAT SORT OF GAY SHITTY BOOKS DOES THIS PRICK KEEP?” Pounder roared, as he ripped a book shelve out of the wall.
No response.
“BUTTERSTICK?” Pounder yelled, spinning around to see his angry companion staring out a broken window in shock.
“WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT DICKWAD?” Pounder yelled moving next to her and looking out the window.
“Disappeared…How?” Fluttershy stammered, her anger seemingly evaporated.
Nothing.
“GAY-ARSE PANSY FAGGOT. I THOUGHT WERE ANGRY, BITCH.” Pounder roared at the stunned pony.
“Disappeared…” The yellow pony muttered again.
“FUCK YOU BUTTERSHIT, I’LL DO THIS MYSELF.” He roared moving over to a chest of drawers and ripping them open violently.
Fucking tactical genius.
Pounder’s eyes shot wide open as a Baneblade erupted out of the now open drawers, shattering the entire wall into a fine spray of wood chips as it was violently forced apart by the super-heavy tank.
“CREEEEEEED!” Pounder roared as the tank rolled over him and ground to a halt. The armour plate above Pounder's head had a raised middle finger crudely painted on it.
“Quick Pinkie, the grenade!” A rough voice growled over the idling engine.
“Oh right!” the ‘FAGGOTROCIOUSLY PINK PONY’ said excitedly, fumbling around for a moment.
“Oops!” She said as she fumbled and dropped the grenade inside the turret hatch.
“Emperor damn it.” Creed growled as the grenade hit the floor of the turret and bounced into the tank itself. He stared at it with wide eyes as the grenade suddenly bulged and glowed a bright hot white.
“OUT NOW!” He roared, shoving Pinkie out of the turret.
"What about you?" Pinkie yelled from the ground.
"I must go! My people need me."
Pounder watched in anger as the bottom of the tank turned white hot.
Then it exploded.

Volruth the Mighty shook his head clear of the warp fog that clouded his mind and stared at the spot where the Angry Marine had just stood. He grinned evilly; banishing the marine to the warp had been difficult, but the mental strain was well worth the look on the helpless Marine’s face just before he had been sucked to hell.
“Your corpse-god cannot save you now fool” He growled, picking himself off the ground. He took a few uneasy steps before noticing the unusual hue the round underneath his feet had taken.
A brief surge of panic filled the sorcerer’s mind, had his last spell been too powerful? Might he have attracted the attention of some greater warp entity? He took a step back and noted with alarm that the strange effect followed him.
“What is the meaning of this?” He breathed in horror.
Suddenly the ground split apart in a flare of white fire and an enraged yellow daemon tore itself out of the warp.
“Impossible.” Volruth mumbled as the Angry Marine he had just banished hauled himself out the warp fire and fixed his sights on the sorcerer.
He tried to run but within the space of a second the Marine was upon him and he felt a great pain in his bowels. Looking down the sorcerer noted that the marine had somehow rammed his ridiculous close combat weapon fully up his arse.
“OWNED.” Pounder roared before ripping the chair out.

RETURN TO FAGGOTVILLE

Chapter five: Return to Faggotville.

Pounder smashed his fist into the command console, denting the thick plate of metal.
“WHY AREN’T WE ON THE GROUND YET?!” He roared. His Battle Barge ‘Ass Pounder’ had been in orbit for ten minutes, too long for the angry captain.
“Our entry to the atmosphere must be slower Captain or we will burn up from orbital entry.” The cognitor explained calmly, oblivious to the Angry Marine Captain’s simmering rage.
“FUCK THAT SHIT.” He yelled, ripping a servitor out of the navigation console and taking its place. Gripping the tiny controls, Pounder pushed them forward, sending the Battle Barge into a headlong collision course with the ground. The doors to the bridge slid open and a quartet of similarity armoured giants walked into the room.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FAGGOTS? I’M TRYING TO FLY THIS HUNK OF SHIT.”
“THE MASTER OF MINDFUCKERY HAS SENSED A POWERFUL RIFT IN THE WARP CAPTAIN POUNDER. IT RIED TO INFILTRATE THE SHIP LIKE A PUSSY WEEABOO BUT THE VOID SHIELD REPELLED IT.” One of his honour guards announced.
“BOO HOO, ARE YOU AFRAID OF A FUCKING LITTLE DAEMON INCURSION YOU SLITHERING TWAT?”
The angry marine hesitated for a second. “IT’S NO DAEMON SIR.” The marine looked genuinely confused for a second, a sure sign that something was wrong.
“DAMN YOU COCKSUCKERS, DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE MYSELF?” Pounder roared, trying to forget his anger management classes. It was important for an Angry Marine to Capitan to be always angry, all the time, so he could be an example for the troops he led.
Pounder opened a link to the Master of Mindfuckery attached to his company, waiting with surprising patience for the librarian to respond to his hail.
“WHAT IS IT DICKWAD?” The librarian shouted over the link, politely greeting the Capitan,
“STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR DICK AND TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG.”
“I DETECTED A WARP SPIKE. TELEPORTATION SIR.”
“WELL YANK THE FUCKER OUT OF THE WARP AND PUT HIM HERE SO I CAN FUCK HIM UP.”
The link snapped off. A moment later a prickling sensation ran along Pounder’s arms. The sharp tang of ionising ozone filled the air as a purple bubble appeared in the centre of the bridge.
“WITCHCRAFT IS FOR FAGGOTS.” One of the honour guards hollered.
“SHUT YOUR COCK FACE.” Pounder roared as a familiar shape materialised inside the bubble.
It was a pony. A pair of ponies to be precise.
“FUCKING HELL NOT THESE FAGS AGAIN.” Pounder groaned as the pony resolved into the shape of an annoyingly familiar unicorn he had met before.
His honour guard drew their weapons, a vast assortment of melee weapons ranging from clubs to sacks full of adamantium doorknobs but sheathed them obediently when Pounder backhanded one across the face.
“SHE’S MINE.” Pounder roared yanking the pony he remembered as ‘TWILIGHT SHINY-VAMPIRE-FAGGOT’ up to eye level.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”
She looked around sheepishly.
“Umm… hi?”

Pounder grunted and dropped the unicorn a full two meters to the ground as he noticed the second pony.
“BUTTERFUCK!” He roared gleefully, reaching to pluck the diminutive Pegasus off the ground.
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME FAGGOT.”
“WHATEVER YOU SAY FUCKTARD.” Pounder roared, dropping the somewhat angry Pegasus.
“SO WHAT ARE YOU TWO FURFAGS DOING HERE? DIDN’T YOU HAVE YOUR OWN GAY PLANET TO FUCK ON?”
“We’re here because we need… your help.” Twilight said, barely a whisper compared to the booming voice of Pounder.
“WHAT THINKS WE’D HELP YOU, XENOS SCUM?” One of Pounder’s guards roared.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I’LL RIP YOUR ASSHOLE OUT AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT.” Fluttershy roared. “NOW LISTEN TO THE BITCH.” She dropped back her normal voice. “If you don’t mind that is.”
The five angry marines looked suitably impressed.
“As I was saying…” Twilight said sheepishly. “We need your help.”

It was a lovely day in Ponyville. Rainbow Dash had woken up early for once and cleared the sky, allowing the warm sunshine to cover the village. Deep drifts of snow filled the fields and the warm breath of ponies frosted in the morning air. Nothing had gone wrong, Cerberus was busy playing with his ball in Tartarus, the dam hadn’t sprung a leak and Pinkie had even refrained from bending physics.
Naturally all good things must end.
A large purple ball appeared in one of the outer fields and a loud crack followed as the air was displaced by two small ponies and five hulking giants.
“WELCOME TO FAGGOTVILLE, TRY NOT TO STARE AT THE GAY SHIT TOO MUCH.” Pounder yelled, crushing a frozen flower under his armoured boot.
The four other angry marines nodded in unison and looked around uneasily.
“So… um… Pounder… How about you come along to the library? I’m sure the princess will want to talk to you.”
“PONY PRINCESS? IS SHE PINK?”
“She’s a majestic white.”
“YOU SHOULD PAINT HER PINK. LITTLE FUCKING GIRLS WOULD LINE UP TO BUY HER. MAYBE DRAW SOME COCKS ON HER OR SOMETHING.”
Twilight cocked her head in confusion.
“WHATEVER. TAKE ME TO YOUR COCKLORD.” He pointed at his honour guards “HEY, DICKWADS, GO FUCK SHIT UP.”

Pinkie Pie bounced through the streets of Ponyville with glee. Although there was nothing in particular that made the day good, she had a feeling that today was a good day to be Pinkie. That thought in mind, she bounced up and down, oblivious to the fact that everypony else had vanished from sight.
She was so focused on bouncing, she didn’t notice anything wrong until she ran nose first into an armoured shin. She craned her neck upwards and locked eyes with a yellow armoured giant.
“WATCH IT FAGGOT.” The giant boomed.
“Hey I know you, you’re an Angry Marine!” she bounced up and down on the spot.
“FUCKIN’ DUH.” The giant yelled, turning around and booting a nearby bucket with his armoured boot.
“HEY, WATCH OUT YOU COCKHEAD.” Another giant boomed as he appeared around the corner, the bucket whizzing past his head.
“SUCK IT, BITCH.” The first one roared, raising his middle finger.
“THAT’S WHAT I SAID TO YOUR MUM LAST NIGHT.”
Pinkie snapped her head back and forth between the giants as the continued hurling abuse at each other. Compared to her last encounter with an Angry Marine, Pinkie felt much more at ease. She briefly wondered what had happened to the last marine, Pounder, after the grenade she had thrown hit him. Maybe the two Marines knew him, maybe he was their friend!
‘Hey I could ask these two, what a great idea Killbles! I should listen to you more ofte-‘

Shut the hell up Pinkie

Pinkie shook her head. What was she just about to do? That’s right, ask the brawling marines about Pounder.
“Hey, you two wouldn’t know a Pounder would you? He was a big yellow guy just like you!”
The two giant’s heads snapped around and locked on Pinkie.
“POUNDER IS AN ANGRY MOTHERFUCKER. HE’S OUR CAPTAIN FURBALL.”
“He’s okay then? Can I see him pleeease! I’m really sorry for throwing that vortex thing at him.”
“POUNDER IS BUSY TALKING WITH PRINCESS COCKFACE.” The marine said, turning a cobblestone to dust as he shifted uncomfortably. The fact that Pounder had agreed to see this plan proposed by... Xeno scum... troubled him.
“We don’t have a Princess Cockface, do we?” Pinkie asked.
“DO NOW, FAGGOT.”
“Okie dokie…” Pinkie said uncertainly. She resumed her previously bubbly attitude. “Hey do you guys want to come help me out?”
“DO WE GET TO BREAK SHIT?” One boomed.
“Sure do!”

Princess Celestia strained to keep her composure as the yellow giant Twilight called ‘Pounder’ smashed through the wall with contemptuous ease.
“Princess, allow me to introduce you to Capitan Pounder.” Twilight said, bowing low. She glanced nervously at the new door Pounder had made but returned her attention to the Princess.
“A pleasure to meet you, sir.” Celestia said as calmly as she could.
“SHUT UP BITCH AND GIVE ME A PAINT POT. SLAANSHI PINK SOUNDS GOOD ABOUT NOW.”
Twilight looked at desperately at Pounder, she wished she had brought Fluttershy along; the diminutive Pegasus seemed to have some measure of control over him.
Ignoring his harsh words, Celestia continued unfazed.
"I have asked my student t-.”
“STUDENT? MORE LIKE RAPE TOY.” Pounder yelled. “HOW DOES THE HORN FIT?”
Celestia gritted her teeth. “I have asked Twilight to bring you here as we require your help. A matter which we are… most unsuited for has arisen and someone with your talents are needed.”
“I DON’T SEE HOW GETTING YOUR MUM TO SUCK MY DICK IS GOING TO HELP YOU.”
“I meant a different talent.” Celestia said. “As Twilight put it… ‘Fucking shit up’”
“FUCK SHIT UP? WHAT’S WRONG, SOME ANTS GET TO DOMINANT FOR YOU PUSSIES??”
“No, we found this.” She levitated a score of pictures from a folder and held them up for the yellow giant to see.
He scrutinised the photos for a moment before tensing up, a reaction that most pleased Celestia.
Pounder glared at the Princess, the photo in his gauntlet starting to smoke from the immense rage contained in his palms.
“YOU’VE GOT A DEAL COCKFACE.”

COME GET US FAGGOTS!

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!”

HURRY UP YOU SLOW FUCKS

Tales of Angrish

Chapter Seven: HURRY UP YOU SLOW FUCKS.

Pounder watched as the pink and purple shuttle descended slowly through the atmosphere. The thought of how many warriors it could hold briefly passed through some unimportant part of his brain. Next to him, his three remaining honour guard lay crouched in the mud, their hands flexing around their weapons eagerly.
“GODDAMN IT, WHY AREN'T THEY ON THE GROUND YET?” Pounder roared. ”I WOULD’VE TORN THE ENGINES OFF BY NOW AND SHOVED UP ONE OF THOSE PUSSIES’ ARSEHOLES. HURRY UP YOU SLOW FUCKS.”
The two ponies that were with them, ‘GAY-PRIDE DASH’ and ‘PRINCESS HORNFUCKER’ exchanged barely suppressed looks of alarm. Hornfucker had come along insisting she see the new arrivals in the flesh and Gay-Pride was in it to see the action the encounter promised to provide.
While Pounder couldn’t give a flying fuck about the first one but he had to admit that the walking gay pride mascot had a point with the second.
Pounder growled and was pulled out of his violent thoughts by the high-pitched scream of the shuttle’s engines swinging down into landing mode. A moment later the lander settled into the ground with a rough thump and the hatch dropped.

Taking that as his cue, Pounder leapt forward, power chair held loosely in one hand. A few figures armed with industrial strength hairdryers descended from the ramp, blowing the dust cloud away from the shuttle’s hatch. After it was ‘safe’ to descend, a large figure decked in beautifully horrid armour emerged from the bowels of the lander, a beautiful unarmoured woman following in his wake.
“Welcome brother.” The chaos lord said in an oddly affable way. “My name is Krull and I… I am your end.”
It occurred to Pounder that if he didn’t have to SMASH THIS FAGGOT’S BALLS TOGETHER SO HARD HE COULD SING CONTRA SOPRANO, he would have smashed them anyway.
“I ASSUME YOU’VE COME TO SURRENDER FAGGOT?” Pounder boomed.
“Only to collect yours. But I know you’d never be so… reasonable.”
“FUCKING-A, YOU MUST OF FINISHED TOP OF YOUR PRESCHOOL CLASS. BRING IT, FAGGOT.” Pounder challenged.
“I have an entire company of my finest warriors, how do you and your pathetic rabble hope to defy me? You believe that your three men can defeat an army?” Krull scoffed.
“WE’D DO IT WITH ONE, BITCHFACE.”
“Very well.” Krull sighed. He waggled a finger and a horde of cultists streamed down the ramp of the lander, shouts of wonder and glee coming from their mouths and other, less identifiable, orifices,. “Kill him.” Krull said simply. “Do keep his head intact though, it’d make a fine addition to my mantelpiece.”

With a mighty roar, Pounder summoned the rest of his warriors and dove into the warband without a second’s hesitation. This is what he was born for. Smashing faces and pounding arses with his power chair.
“May you find beauty in death!” One of the cultists screamed as it tied to beat Pounder's face in with a decidedly dead flower.
“FIND IT YOURSELF, DICKWAD!” Pounder yelled, taking the fellow’s head off with his chair. Within seconds, the massacre was over and the only difference was the piles of garishly dressed corpses filling the field and the previously yellow Angry Marines now more closely resembled Blood Angels.
“Kill them!” Krull screamed, drawing his own sword in a suitably dramatic fashion. “Rend them limb from limb and drown them in their own blood!” He screamed as he charged Pounder, leaving a dozen of his marines to deal with the honour guard.
“FUCK YES, 1v1 ME FAGGOT.” Pounder bellowed enthusiastically.
Krull replied by swinging his sword through the empty air where Pounder had been a moment ago.
“AHHH OWWW, TRY HARDER NEXT TIME FUCKTARD. MAYBE YOUR MUMMY WILL HELP YOU.”
Krull smiled savagely, a look not entirely befitting his legion of origin. “Mother! Help me please.”
“Yes dear.” The lady replied. She chanted ominously for a second before directing the flow of psychic energy towards her son.
“Thank you mummykins.”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS HORSESHIT?” Pounder said, outraged by the fact that the PRETTY FAGGOT’S mother was actually present and helping.
“This is chaos you fool.” Krull snarled, lashing out again with supernatural speed and clipping Pounder across the shoulder. The ridiculously oversized pauldrons did their job though, protecting Pounder from the worst of the blow.
“Too easy, I expected better!” Krull crowed, swinging his sword at Pounder’s exposed head.
“FUCK OFF. THIS IS MY HEAD AND I’M GOING TO KEEP IT.” Pounder roared, catching the sword in the palm of his hand. The power field surrounding the blade melted his armour and burned his palm, but he ignored it. If he could take the pain of watching part of the Twilight saga, he could take losing a hand no problems. Krull had a moment to look surprised until his weapon was yanked out of his hand forcefully. Pounder kicked him hard in the chest and sent him sprawling into the dirt. In a deft motion, he swung the demonic blade around in one hand, grasping it by the notched and battered grip. The chaos lord scrambled back through the dirt, for once in his life too scared to not care about how filthy his armour was getting.

“What are you?”
“I’M FUCKING ANGRY!” Pounder roared, stabbing Krull’s sword straight through his chest and pinning him to the ground. Krull could only look on in horror as Pounder slapped the lone chaos marine protecting his mother to the ground with a casual swing of his power chair and plucked the beautiful woman off the ground.
“Mummy, no!” He cried, desperately trying to pull the sword out of his chest.
Before his mother could react, Pounder smashed her into the ground, removed his groin-plate and raped the witch with a brutality she would’ve never imagined possible in her eight-hundred and forty-three years. As he finished, Ponder stood up, readjusted his armour and looked Krull in the eye so deeply it reached right into what was left of the warlord’s dark soul. It was a look which would have sent greater demons back into the warp, tail tucked between their legs, a look that would have halted an entire Black Crusade in an instant, a look that probably would make the Dark Angels admit to being heretics out of fear.
“I FUCKED YOUR MUM.”

***

Pounder watched in contempt as the lander spiralled away back into orbit. After Krull had ripped the sword from his chest he had retrieved his dazed mother and retreated to the shuttle, vowing revenge. While Pounder had been too busy fighting Krull to pay attention to his own warriors, they had a made a fine example of themselves; killing the dozen Chaos Pretty marines Krull had brought with him while only losing one of their own number. At the thought of his retinue, Veteran Crusher stormed up to him, globules of cultist blood flying off him as he marched up to his captain.
“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THOSE DYKES GET AWAY YOU FUCKING COCKSICKLE? WE HAD THEM!” He punctuated his point by kicking the head off a fallen pretty marine. The helmeted head flew off into the distance, probably destroying some poor furry creature’s home in a brief yet destructive blow.
Pounder remained surprisingly composed, not even backhanding the enraged veteran across the face for questioning him.
“THOSE WARP WHORES AREN’T THE ONLY ONES WHO CAN PLAN AHEAD, DICKHEAD.”

TRUE RAAAAAAAAGEE

Tales of Angrish

Chapter 8: TRUE RAAAAAAAAGEE

It has been discovered that Captain Pounder’s log of his second foray into the lands of Equestria may present confusion to some members of the Inquisition. Due to this, external commentary by Adept Pejanus and Brother-Sergeant Shitkicker may be overlaid where necessary.

His titanic du-.

[Hearty laughter fills recording for twelve point two seconds.]

TITANIC? I’VE SEEN FUCKING WEEABOOS PUT UP BETTER FIGHTS THAN THAT CUNT KRULL.

… Ahem… His Titanic duel with Krull finished, Pounder stomped towards the small village of Ponyville, his mind troubled…

***

Pounder stomped angrily through the fields back towards the small town he was unwillingly calling home, a few drops of rancid chaotic blood dripping from his armour onto the ground. While his victory over the PRETTY PUSSIES had cheered him up slightly, being stuck in the happy, colourful land was a constant strain on his composure. He crushed a small flower beneath his boot but the tiny sense of satisfaction the destruction brought was soon outweighed by the oppressive nature of the land around him. A seething wave of red crossed his mind as the GAY PRIDE MASCOT swooped around his head and landed on his ridiculously oversized pauldron.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT SHITHEAD?” He roared, plucking the plucky Pegasus off his shoulder and holding her in front of his face by her tail.

Her look of awe was quickly replaced with one of alarm.

“Can’t I congratulate you, that was pretty awesome! I mean you totally kicked those guys’ flanks!” She jabbed the air with her forelegs.

“FUCKING-A” Pounder agreed, kindly letting go of the Pegasus instead of using her as an impromptu hammer throw. “DON’T FUCKING LAND ON MY SHOULDER AGAIN OR I’LL RIP YOUR ARSE OUT THROUGH YOUR MOUTH.”

“Sheesh, chill out man.” ‘GAY PRIDE’ said quickly before flapping off into the distance. Pounder rubbed his helmet and stomped a trail of ants into paste. Why he was helping these ponies was beyond him. The vox bead in his helmet crackled to life and the clipped tones of the Angry Marine nominally in charge of his Battlebarge filled his ears.

“CAPTAIN, WE’RE IN ORBIT NOW. A BUNCH OF CUNTS STOLE A COUPLE OF THUNDERHAWKS AND ARE HEADING DOWN NOW. WHERE DO THE FUCKERS NEED TO GO?”

“TELL THEM IT’S NEAR THE FUCKING BIG ROCK OVER THERE AND BETWEEN THOSE TREES.” Pounder yelled, pointing to the clump of trees in question. “WHAT ABOUT THE PRETTY FAGGOTS?”

“THE DICKWADS ARE BEING PUSSIES, THEIR SHIPS HAVE POWERED DOWN AND THIS PIECE OF SHIT UP HERE CAN’T FIND THEM.”

“YOU FIND THEM YOU STUPID FUCK, I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE TO THROW FUCKING ROCKS OUT OF THE AIRLOCK BUT YOU FUCKING DO IT, WE CLEAR DICKMUNCHER?” Pounder roared, the end of his tirade being cut off by the roar of a Thunderhawk’s engine ploughing into the ground. An onlooker would be surprised to see a dozen Angry Marines hanging onto the piece of severed machinery but Pounder paid no heed to the standard Angry Marine tactic designed to make ‘Steel Rain’ look like a maneuver for blue space faggots . A few seconds later the rest of the craft in question roared overhead and slammed into the ground, sending a plume of dirt flying up into the air. Pounder watched as a large walker, a Belligerent Engine, emerged from the wreck, undaunted by the supersonic impact. He was so busy watching the spectacle he didn’t notice a royal pony approach him. The regal creature looked with alarm as the large walker tore a path through the twisted remains of its transport.

“Captain Pounder.” Princess Celestia said finally as another Thunderhawk stripped of its engines screamed overhead and crashed into the ground with another deafening screech.

“WHAT IS IT HORNFUCKER? NEED YOUR HORN LUBED UP OR SOMETHING?”

Celestia decided to ignore the creature’s crude comment. “I’ve assembled what military forces I can to aid you. Would you like to inspect them?”

Pounder tossed an approving look over the score of marines now milling around. A pair of techmarines were stomping around behind them, smashing the remains of the Thunderhawks back into working order with heavy blows from their Thunder Hammers and constant streams of abuse.

“WHY THE FUCK NOT? I MIGHT GET SOME MORE SQUAT TOSSING PRACTICE IN.”

Celestia gave the marine a curious look but gestured towards a small group of ponies assembled at the edge of the field. Taking the hint that these were the troops she had assembled, Pounder stomped his way towards the nervous looking ponies, the princess following close behind. Celestia paused in front of the first rank of ponies and looked at Pounder.

“This is our royal guard detachment; you’ll never find a better unit of trained ponies in all of Equestria.”

“HA, GAY!” Pounder snorted, marching along the first rank and plucking a few random ponies into the air by their tails. He scrutinised their thick armour and razor-sharp spears. “THESE PUSSIES WOULDN’T LAST A SECOND AGAINST A GROT.” He concluded, hoisting a pony up to eye level and examined him closely.

“I’M THINKING OF INVENTING A NEW GAME. PIN THE PONY ON THE CARNIFEX SOUNDS PRETTY GOOD.”

“What’s a carnifex?” One of the guards asked.

“HOW ABOUT YOU GO ASK YOUR MOTHER, SHE’D HAVE A PRETTY GOOD IDEA.” Pounder roared, dropping the guardspony like a sack of rocks.

“WHERE’S THE NEXT LOT OF MEATBAGS?!”

Celestia gestured towards a small unit of pegasi. “These are the Wonderbolts, they are Equestria’s elite flying squadron.”

“HOW THE FUCK DO THEY FLY WITH THIS PISSY THINGS?” He grabbed one of the Wonderbolt’s wings and hoisted him into the air. The Imperium of Man’s aircraft were notoriously un-aerodynamic but how these little shits managed it was beyond him. The stallion’s look of alarm grw as Pounder started waving him around by his wing erratically.

“WHAT’S YOU NAME FAGGOT? I BET IT’S SOME SHIT LIKE ‘BLUE RAINY CUNT.’”

“Soarin, sir!” The Pegasus barked angrily as Pounder waved him around by his wing.

“FUCK, THAT’S HALF DECENT. SO, ON A RATING OF ONE TO SO FUCKING ANGRY YOU’D RIP THE BALLS OF A TERMAGUANT, HOW ANGRY ARE YOU?”

“Uh… Pretty angry?”

“NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH, LET THE RAGE FLOW THROUGH YOU.” Pounder instructed.

The Pegasus’ scowl deepened as he focused his inner rage. Pounder watched expectantly for a moment before snorting derisively.

“LET A REAL MASTER SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE!” He bellowed, dropping the Pegasus like a discarded punching bag. Pounder concentrated for a moment, reaching deep inside himself for his stores of rage. Small puffs of smoke started rising from the joints in his armour as the captain’s inner rage started boiling. “FUUUUUUUUCCCCK YOU!” Pounder roared, a crackling fire springing up to replace the smoke. The flames lasted a few seconds before dying down. “THAT’S HOW IT’S DONE FAGGOT< UNTIL YOU GET SMOKE POURING OUT YOUR ARSE YOU’RE NOT FUCKING ANGRY ENOUGH.” Pounder roared point blac into Soarin’s face. “NOW, WHO’S IN CHARGE OF THIS SHITHOUSE?”

“She is, sir.” Soarin pointed at a yellow Pegasus who seemed to shrink slightly. The remainder of the flying unit took a big step away from their captain as Pounder lunged towards her.

“YEAH I BET SHE FUCKING IS, YELLOW IS FUCKING AWESOME.” He picked the captain up by her tail and held her up next to Soarin and examined them for a moment.

***

As Pounder looked the two ponies over, a strange urge to see them paired overcame him. He felt like a fan of a TV show where his two favourite characters had shared a meaningful look and-.

FUCKING HELL, GET ON WITH IT YOU INCOMPETENT PRICK.

Pounder wanted to see them locked in bouts of passiona-.

THAT’S IT!

[Sounds of smashing, repeated clubbing and screams of pain follow for several minutes. Upon investigation of the sounds, it is found a new adept is required.]

IF I SEE ONE MORE FUCKING LINE ABOUT POUNDER BEING A FAGGOT, YOU’RE NEXT.

***

Pounder shook his head, eyes helmet lenses burning with anger. “OH FUCK, SINCE WHEN DID I BECOME A PRETTY MARINE?” He yelled, recoiling in horror. The two Wonderbolts dropped to the ground like drop pods, ending up in an uncomfortable and awkward pile. Frustrated, Pounder turned on his heel and stomped away from the nervous looking ponies.

***

You can clearly see Captain Pounder’s distress building as he stays in this heretical land, only the true light of the Emp-

I THINK WE CAN SEE THAT YOU NEED TO SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. ON WITH IT YOU STUPID FUCK.

***

Refuge though, was harder to find than Pounder imagined. He had barely crossed half of the park the ponies were using as an assembly area, when a cyan blur leapt onto his arm and attached itself resolutely.

“HANDS!” It squealed excitedly

***

Krull snarled loudly in annoyance he marched back onto his bridge. With the ship powered down, only the bare essentials were running. He brushed off his physician and stood in the centre of the bridge, his recent sword wound causing no more trouble than a paper cut.

“Status?” He said, still maintaining a trace of elegance in his voice for his crew to aspire to. “Have the brutes found us?”

“No my lord.” One of the many serfs answered. “They’re searching for us though.” An image of a massive battlebarge slowly prowling the system with patience uncommon to Angry Marines filled the screen. As they watched an airlock opened and a hail of small objects flew out into space.

“Rocks…” One the crew said, answering the question everyone had been about to ask.

Krull laughed. “It’ll take weeks for them to find us. By then the ship will be fully functional.” He sat down on his command throne carefully, aware of the small collection of dust that had gathered in his absence. His ship, ‘Flower of Death’ was an ancient battleship. While crippled, it was vulnerable but with repairs well under way the mighty warship would soon be able to plough through space, gun batteries and lances blasting away at the unsuspecting loyalist ship.

“What about their ground forces, my lord?” One of his remaining champions asked.

“We will prepare a larger force to defeat them; our shuttles are small enough to escape the notice of their pathetic ship if they are cautious. These fools have shown us strength but we have yet to show them ours… when mummy has recovered from her… ordeal… could you send her up her? She is knowledgeable in the ways of the warp and perhaps we can use that to our advantage…” Krull’s face broke into a wicked grin as the thought of millions of daemons spilling across the virgin world beneath them came to mind. “Yes… I think that would do quite nicely.”

I'M BUSY HORNFUCKER

Tales of Angrish

Chapter 10: I'M BUSY HORNFUCKER

Pounder was bored. He and the score of marines that had fallen out the sky milled around, picking their noses, watching porn slates and complaining about the lack of a pizza delivery service. The stern warning from PRINCESS HORNFUCKER had deterred Pounder from killing any other ponies but as his patience quickly ran out, he started to wonder why he hadn’t just ripped off her head and used it as an impromptu latrine. A traveling courier had approached the waiting marines earlier, offering them some ‘exotic reading material’ but upon seeing the front covers of the magazines he was offering Pounder punted the unfortunate pony into the forest which separated the marines from the town with a choice of favoured words such as ‘CUNTMUNCHER’ and ‘GO SEE SOME FUCKING SPACE FURRIES.’
“EMPEROR’S ITCHY BALLSACKS, HURRY THE FUCK UP!” He bellowed at the sky, challenging it to drop a horde of chaotic filth on him. As if waiting for his cue, the cloud cover parted as a dozen of pristine chaos dropships roared through the atmosphere. A cheer went up from the assembled Angry Marines and the porn slates and toxic boogers were replaced by mauls, bats, chairs and sacks full of doorknobs.

“YEAH, THAT’S IT! COME GET US YOU PRETTY MARINE FAGGOTS! STOP SUCKING EACH OTHERS COCKS AND FIGHT US!” Pounder bellowed, raising both his middle fingers at the lead drop ship. The gesture was taken up by the other marines until an almost visible wave of hatred emanated from them. The Belligerent Engine at the back of the group howled with fury, the half dead Angry Marine interned inside it raising its middle finger on its pair of power fistsl, each one nearly as long as one of Pounder’s arms. With a sickening crack the lead dropship simply exploded, the reinforced alloys and metals that made up its hull deciding they were too much of a ‘PUSSY FAGGOT’ to withstand the raw waves of anger surging around it.

The vox in Pounder’s helmet clicked on, the annoyed sounds of Dipshit coming through. “I’VE TRACKED THE FUCKERS TO THEIR PROBABLE LANDING ZONES, IT’S ON YOUR TAC MAP IF YOU FEEL SMART ENOUGH TO LOOK AT IT.”

Pounder growled but opened his tactical map, the ancient and rarely used piece of software popping up inside his helmet’s display. “I DON’T GET IT.” He said after a second, the unfamiliar runes that marked units and landmarks confusing and enraging him.

“THAT’S YOU, SHITHEAD.” The techmarine rumbled, highlighting a green rune in the centre. “THE FAGGOT’S DROP SHIPS ARE THE RED FUCKERS. AS YOU CAN SEE, ONLY A FEW OF THE COCKS ARE LANDING NEAR YOU.”

“WHAT’S THE POINT, MACHINE WHORE?”

“THERE‘LL BE GAYLORDS ALL OVER THIS PLANET SOON AND YOU’RE HANGING OUT LIKE A SQUIGGOTH’S DICK OVER THERE.”

The idea of the Chaos Pretty Marines swarming across Equestria lightened Pounder’s mood considerably. Either the little ponies who’d brought him back were about to make the best friends they’d ever met or grow some fucking balls.

‘Or get slaughtered...’ Pounder thought cheerfully.
“NOT MY PROBLEM.” He barked. “HOW’S THE THUNDERHAWK LOOKING? YOU GIVEN THE MACHINE SPIRIT ENOUGH HEAD YET?”

“STILL WORKING ON IT FUCKHEAD. MAYBE YOU’D LIKE TO TRY GIVING IT A RIMJOB YOU IMPATIENT CUNT.” Dipshit yelled back before cutting the link. Pounder nodded his head appreciatively. Not being part of the chain of command, the Techmarine was technically well within his rights to slag off at Pounder without the captain bitch-slapping him back. In practice however... Pounder reminded himself to pile-drive the techmarine the next time he saw him.

“POUNDER, THE COCKMUNCHERS ARE TOUCHING DOWN!” One of the marines yelled as the gigantic landers touched down gracefully on the grass fields. The massive ships sunk into the dirt, throwing up a massive cloud of dirt, dust and grit. Large fans deployed, clearing the grime away and the massive ramps dropped, revealing an impossibly beautiful and sensual interior. Rank upon rank of cultists hurtled down the ramp, obscene standards held high and streams of twisted flower petals pouring from their clothes. While such sights of ecstasy and beauty would have most men screaming and clawing their eyes out, it just made Pounder even trucking angrier.

“ARE YOU WAITING FOR THEM TO DROP THEIR PANTS AND WAVE THEIR DICKS AROUND? GO GET THEM!” He roared, leading by example and charging at the mass of chaos warriors. “ALWAYS ANGRY!” He bellowed.

“ALL THE TIME!”

Needless to say, chaos was fucked.

***

Krull took a deep breath of air, savouring the clean, non-metallic tang that seemed to permeate his flagship. He and what was left of his elite cadre of troops had landed near a sprawling metropolis. With a large force of chaff and rabble keeping the Angry Marines busy, Krull was free to do as he pleased without their interference.

"My lord, strike force Grace and Elegance have landed and have begun the proper rites.

"Good." Krull hissed, watching a pair of pink and purple rhinos rumble past.

"What of the natives?" His underling asked, the tentacle that was his right arm twitching excitedly.

"Their souls are worthless." Krull spat, examining a few of the curious pony-like creatures that seemed to inhabit this world. "But they are so adorable!" He said in an almost fangirl like squeal. "I think we should keep some for the gardens."

The marine rubbed his forehead with his hand "My lord, your accession may require more sacrifice-."

"Nonsense, we will offer this world to Slaanesh and I will be rewarded. The fate of its inhabitants can lie with our mistress."

"Yes lord." The marine muttered, clambering into another waiting rhino.

"Just keep the Angry Marines occupied for a little while longer and victory will be ours."

***

“FUCKING HELL, MORE CULTISTS? WHERE THE HELL ARE THE REAL PRETTY FAGGOTS?” Pounder roared angrily, stomping yet another cultist beneath his power feet. The man exploded like a ripe tomato and a dozen other cultists went down in hysterics as their once pristine grab was covered in stubborn blood stains. Their cries of “That’ll never come out in the wash!” were silenced as Pounder crushed them mercilessly. A strange tingling sensation appeared in the back of his mind, enraging him even further.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD WITCHCUNT!” He yelled, looking for the psyker trying to force themselves into his mind.

“Captain, we need your assistance.” Rang the voice of the PRETTY GAY PONY PRINCESS. “Invaders have been spotted across most of Equestria. A wave of beautification is spreading and my subjects are frightened.”

“OUT OF MY HEAD BITCH!”

“Captain, they’re up to something.”

“WELL I’M UP TO MY NECK IN FAGGOTS DRESSED IN PINK SO GO SHOVE A POST UP YOUR ARSE AND GET BACK TO ME WHEN I’M DONE.”

“My commanders are receiving reports of strange rituals. I think this is worth your attention.”

Pounder stopped mid kick. The only thing worse than a FUCKING CHAOS PRETTY MARINE FAGGOT was a daemon summoned by a Chaos Pretty Marine. Perhaps the pussy Krull meant to summon daemons to this world and attract the favour of his masters. Pounder's mind ticked over slowly, barely noticing the twenty odd cultists hacking feebly at his armour. A massive explosion shook the battlefield as the Belligerent Engine tore through a shuttle faster than Doomrider through a line of cocaine. The now blackened machine let loose a flurry of swears and barreled back into the horde of cultists. Nearly a third of their remaining number turned into sprays of gory and flowers as the ancient war machine got to work.

“THOSE COCKMUNCHERS BETTER NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT SUMMONING ANY OF THOSE FUCKING PINK SLAANESHI WHORES.” Pounder roared, knocking down the cultists attacking him with a powerful stomp. He crushed another cultists head between his fingers before finding he had run out of targets. The three shuttles had been cleared with only a single casualty,, none of the cultists onboard being able to withstand the Angry Marine’s eternal rage. Before there was time to celebrate their victory, a boxy yellow gunship fell out the sky, landing roughly on top of one the chaos shuttles in a cacophony of shrieking metal and grinding plates. Pounder made a disapproving sound as the Thunderhawk’s ramp dropped and the unicorn TWILIGHT FUCKLE trotted out with a shit eating on her face. Dipshit followed her, his arms folded across his chest in frustration.

“Hello again Captain, I got your thingy working again.” She said, her smugness being replaced by revulsion as she beheld the battlefield.

“THE ONLY THING THAT GETS MY THINGY WORKING IS IMPERIAL HOOKERS. THAT’s A THUNDERHAWK, BITCH.” Pounder growled.

The unicorn rolled her eyes derisively, either brave or stupid enough to show contempt to an Angry Marine.

Pounder rounded on Dipshit. “HOW THE FUCK DID THIS SHITFACE GET IT WORKING?”

Dipshit looked at he ground, clearly embarrassed. He mumbled something under his voice, an act he’d never done in his life before.

“YOU TURNING INTO PUSSY? LOUDER YOU UGLY SON OF A WHORE!”.

“She pressed the on button.” Dipshit said at what most people would consider a fairly loud volume.

“I CAN’T FUCKING HEAR YOU PUSSY. LOUDER COCKMUCHER, OR THESE FEET WILL BE GOING UP YOUR OVERSIZED VAGINA.”

“SHE PRESSED THE 'ON' BUTTON YOU FUCKER.” Dipshit roared.

“THAT’S BETTER.” Pounder said. He turned to the still smug looking unicorn. “ONE, DON’T TOUCH MY SHIT AGAIN. TWO, DON’T TOUCH DIPSHIT’S STUFF AGAIN, WHORE.” He stopped and thought for a moment. “OH YEAH. THREE, FUCK YOU.”

THAT SHITHEAD DID WHAT NOW?

Tales of Angrish

Chapter Eleven: THAT SHITHEAD DID WHAT NOW?

It was such a nice day for the world to end.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the horde of gibbering cultists that galloped down the street, screaming praise to their foul gods, raping, pillaging and beautifying everything in sight, it would have been a fairly normal day.

Even then, Manehatten was used to these sorts of things, giant monster attacks, giant robots, heck, even alien invasions… they all seemed drawn to the city, intent on either crushing its inhabitants to a pulp or forcing them to their will.

At the head of the vast legion assaulting the city was the Beautiful yet Terrible Lord Krull, the mighty chaos lord was sulking behind the front lines, surrounded by his best sorcerers and finest warriors.

He nodded to his head sorcerer, it was time.

As one they cried praise to their dark gods and reality seemed to buckle and twist. Hundreds of cultists writhed in ecstasy as the ritual began, hundreds of damned souls sucked away in an instant, offered up in sacrifice to their lord and master, their true spiritual liege ~~Roboute Guilliman~~, ~~Rowboat Chilliman~~ Slaanesh.

Krull roared with feral delight as the barriers between the materium and immaterium shook and hundreds of deamons tumbled into realspace.

“See, see!” He bellowed, still maintaining an elegant edge to his voice. He knelt down on one massive knee “Oh mighty ~~Robot Girlyman~~ Slaanesh, I offer this world up in your name. The souls of the soon to be vanquished are yours, yours to devour.” He paused, feeling a great surge of power course through him. “All I ask in return is your favour… the ultimate reward… ascension.”

The crack in reality howled with bestial laughter and bolts of red lightning split the sky. The breach widened, spilling more gibbering daemons out to plague Equestria.

“Yes… yes!” Krull squealed as his flesh started to boil and grow, unholy vigour coursing through his veins. His champions took a large step back, both to protect themselves in case their lord turned into a gibbering spawn and more pragmatically, so that their elegant armour would remain untarnished from the swirling warp energy.

A unnatural glow surrounded Krull as he grew to a titanic size.

“YES!”

***

“FUCK!” Pounder roared with feeling as the lone Thunderhawk circled the battlefield. Hastily put back into commission, the mighty craft had roared towards the largest congregation of PRETTY MARINE FAGGOTS that Dipshit could find. A few ponies rode in the cargo bay with them, mouths agape in horror as their world was slowly consumed by the ravening powers of the warp.

They were too late though, whatever foul magic Krull’s entourage had cast was taking hold and even as Pounder watched a fresh wave of daemons spilled through the slowly growing portal.

Pounder leapt into the cockpit and pointed through the shattered windshield at a collection of forty-odd pretty marines. A large misshapen shape was forming in the centre of the group, giving Pounder the suspicion that they’d find the PUSSY-FACED FAGGOT Krull there.

“DROP US RIGHT THERE, PREPARE FOR SATURATION BOMBING PATTERN ‘FUCK YOU, WHORES’.”

Dipshit spun around in the pilot’s seat, not bothering to pay attention to trivial things such as flying the massive metal box. “WE HAVE BOMBS? SINCE WHEN?”

“SINCE I STRAPPED A COUPLE OF COCK KNOCKER SQUADS TO WINGS YOU FUCKHEAD NOW GET BACK TO FLYING YOU INBRED SON OF A MACHINE WHORE.”

“FUCK OFF.” Dipshit yelled, pointing the Thunderhawk’s nose down into a nearly vertical dive. The airframe groaned, the metal unable to handle the sudden forces applied to it.

“FUCK, WHAT’S THIS MADE OF, USED KLEENEX?” Pounder boomed, leaping back down into the troop bay when twenty odd marines and the smoking Belligerent Engine stood. Despite the craft’s near-suicidal tilt, the marines were still firmly clamped to the floor, their magnetic boots and sheer anger making gravity too terrified to disagree with their preposterous positions.

Pounder strode to the front of the front of the ramp where the six ponies that accompanied them stood, terrified out of their minds.

“LOOK YOU LITTLE FUCKS, THERE’S A HUGE-ASS WARP PORTAL OUT THERE SPEWING ALL SORTS OF FURRY SHIT ALL OVER THE PLACE AND WE NEED TO SHUT THAT FUCKER UP LIKE IT WAS A RABID GW FANBOY.” He roared, silently wondering how the ponies were still staying on the Thunderhawk’s deck. “PROBLEM IS WE HAVE TO FIGHT ALL THE FUCKERS AROUND IT, LEAVING LITTLE TIME FOR HOLE FUCKERY.”

“What can we do?” Twilight asked.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, I DON’T KNOW. USE YOUR BRAINS YOU JUMPED-UP DRAGON FUCKER. USE YOUR GAY FRIENDSHIP MAGIC SHIT.”

“The elements of harmony! Of course!” Twilight cried.

“DEUS EX MACHINA THAT SHIT UP!” Pounder agreed, bashing a gauntlet against his chest plate.

“FUCKHEADS, THIRTHY SECONDS TO DIRT!” Dipshit announced over the craft’s intercom.

“He knows to land this thing, right?” Rainbow Dash asked dubiously.

“LANDING JUST MEANS ‘STOP FLYING’, YEAH?” Pounder asked, having never experienced what most sane people would call a ‘Soft landing’ in his entire career he was slightly unfamiliar with the term ‘Landing’

“Oh fuck.” Twilight said dryly.

Pounder ignored this and instead voxed Dipshit. “FUCK THE WHORES! NOW! DEPLOY MULTIPLE, SIMULTANEOUS AND WHORE-CRUSHING OFFENSIVE DEEP STRIKES!” He boomed, making Indrick Boreale sound like a heavenly choir of angels. A moment later the six bomb clusters on the Thunderhawk’s wings detached, revealing not bombs, but eighteen yellow clad and very pissed off Cock Knockers. Angry Marines were already frightening good in close combat but when one strapped a jetpack to their back and did the sensible thing like not even bothered to give them a bolter and instead, say, a wrench the size of a small car, scary things happened.

Cock Knockers happened.

The ‘bombs’ fell away, the usual whistling sound they made on their descent replaced by a titanic roar of pure fury.

“YEAH, GET THOSE CUNT MUNCHERS!” Pounder cheered as the eighteen yellow streaks fell into the demonic horde, chainswords and sacks of doorknobs whirling in bloody arcs. They didn’t even bother activating their jump packs, the impact of each marine carving great bloody trenches into the Chaos lines.

Pounder nodded in approval, next time he’d try it with a squad of Terminators.

“TWENTY SECONDS!” Dipshit roared, leaping out of the cockpit and climbing onto the back of the Belligerent Engine. He swung his massive thunder hammer in a huge arc, eager to smash some CHAOTIC FUCKTARDS in the balls.

Pounder spun around to his warriors and pointed at the buckled ramp. “WHEN THAT FUCKER DROPS, YOU KILL THEM! KILL THEM FOR THE EMPEROR! KILL THOSE FAGGOTS, RIP THEIR FUCKING MANGINAS OUT THEIR THROATS AND THEN KILL THEM AGAIN, JUST FOR GOOD MEASURE! DON’T STOP UNTIL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE SLAANESHI MANWHORES ARE DEAD!”

The Angry Marines roared in approval, brandishing their clubs and power wrenches eagerly.

Pounder turned back to the six cowering ponies. “DO WHATEVER IT IS THE FUCK YOU NEED TO DO, JUST STAY THE FUCK OUT OF OUR WAY!”

The six ponies nodded silently, the needed no further encouragement.

“TEN SECONDS!”

Pounder turned back to the ramp, waiting with uncommon patience for it to drop. He slowly counted off the seconds in his head, lost count and then started again, this time beating the shit out of any numbers he didn’t like (I.E. all of them.). A flexed his empty hands, feeling a little exposed without his power chair. Still, he more than made up for it with the ridiculously oversized Powerfeet he was wearing.

Suddenly the Thunderhawk slammed into the ground with tremendous force, sending the hatches flying off in all directions and turning hundreds of heretics and daemons who had been unlucky enough to be in its way into nothing more than red jam. With a savage roar, Pounder sprinted down what was left of the ramp, his battle brothers close at his heels.

“ALWAYS ANGRY!”

“ALL THE TIME!”

Author's Note

Don't judge me.
I'm tired, in the middle of an exam block and this was the perfect release for my frustration.

The end is nigh.

FUCK YEAH

Tales of Angrish

Chapter Twelve: FUCK YEAH

With a roar that sounded like the word ending, the Angry Marines charged down the ramp. Pounder was at the front of course, his juggernaut-like form ploughing through the packed ranks of cultists and daemons effortlessly. He made a beeline for the towering figure of Krull, the once beautiful Chaos Lord transformed into a near perfect Daemon Prince.

“Despair, mortal!” Krull screamed, his elegant face contorting in rage as he beheld Pounder charging towards him.

“FUCK YOU, DAEMON PUSSY!” Pounder roared, trampling a pair of sorcerers into the mud to get to Krull. The Belligerent Engine followed in his wake, tearing through the two-score of Pretty Marines surrounding their lord like tinfoil, its pilot screaming in barely control fury as it pulled the unfortunate marines to shreds. With an infernal roar, it slapped the mighty daemon prince to the ground with a casual swipe and grabbed the delicate lady behind him. With a savage glee it inserted its massive fist up the witch’s ass, turning her into little more than a red mist as it activated the built-in power field.

“EVEN IN DEATH I STILL FIST YOUR MOM!” It bellowed before Krull carved its arm off with his mighty demonic blade.

“ENOUGH!” Krull screamed, kicking the dreadnought away and turning to Pounder. With disturbing ease, the Daemon Prince swatted the captain to the ground. “I HAVE WON! I ascended you blithering slime! Now kneel before me!”

“STICK THAT SWORD UP YOUR FUCKING PUTRID ASS YOU CUM GUZZLING COCKBAG.” Pounder answered, being rewarded with another slap across the chest for his trouble. He tumbled the dirt, his anger rising.

“Chaos is eternal! Chaos is power! Chaos is beauty!” Krull screeched, picking Pounder up by his chest plate and staring deep into the Angry Marine’s visor.

“CHAOS ALWAYS WINS!” Krull screamed, his mighty daemonic visage leering in triumph. He tightened his grip on Pounder and snarled. “Any last words, Angry Marine?” He jeered.

Pounder’s hand darted down to his bolt pistol and raised it defiantly. With an angry roar he snapped off the entire clip, the miniature rockets pattering off Krull’s armoured shell harmlessly. Krull laughed at the gesture, no mere bolt pistol would hurt him.

But it wasn’t the bolt pistol he had to be worried about.

Reaching up to the pistol’s clip and praying to the Emperor that he was listening. Pounder screamed two words.

“RELOADING, COCKBAG!”

He tossed the clip at Krull and rolled away as a three hundred and fifteen ton tank emerged from its hiding spot behind his bolt pistol’s clip. The Baneblade flew towards the surprised Daemon Prince at full speed, its engine howling as it flew through the air in the same way bricks don’t.

Krull had but a moment to look surprised before the tank crushed his daemonic form to a red and pink pulp, the last words from the Daemon Price’s mouth being little more than a cry of pure anguish.

“CRREEEEEEEEEEEEED!”

***

“Come on girls!” Twilight yelped, ducking under a clumsy swing of something which had too many arms and probably not nearly enough clothes. They’d followed the Angry Marines out of the Thunderhawk and delved right into the thick of it, avoiding the worst of the fighting where they could. She was absolutely terrified but she pressed on regardless, the fate of Equestria depended on it.

“STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO AND SHUT YOUR FUCKING WHORE-MOUTH, BITCH.” Fluttershy raged at Twilight, a little carried away with the violence and killing around her. She walked fearlessly through the valley of death but she feared no evil (or CUNTMUNCHING SLAANESH WHORE) for she was the biggest, baddest, motherfucker in the valley.

A half score of daemonettes gallivanted towards them but hesitated mid stride as the butter-coloured Pegasus fixed a glowing eye on them. They saw deep into her soul and quickly deduced that she was not someone to fuck with. Shrieking in badly-concealed terror, the she-daemons decided that throwing themselves at the Angry Marines would be safer alternative than to remain under her glare.

Under such protection, the six ponies closed on the portal, now dodging a pair of pus-ridden monstrosities that swung rusting, smoking blades at them. They were no more than fifty metres away when a hand, a hand larger than was possibly reasonable, emerged from the ever growing portal and slammed down onto the ground, the foul stench of death and decay than surrounded it immediately turning the grass there to withered, dead husks.

“Yes. Yes! Come forth my children, Father Nurgle cares for his subjects and gives us a new world to spread his love to!” A voice boomed, more terrible, ancient and powerful than anything they’d heard before.

Twilight could only watch in horror as a forty metre tall, impossibly bloated figure rose from the portal, a rusty black blade gripped in its hand. The beast roared in glee, spewing contagions and diseases never heard about or conceived across Equestria. Pus oozed from its every orifice and the smell it gave off made a tip seem positively fragrant.

As one, the Slaaneshi warhost cried out in terror and charged the foul abomination and the already chaotic battle turned into furious three-way that would leave a horny slaaneshi cultist writhing in envy. Dozens of Plaguebearers emerged from and behind their master to do battle and soon the number of daemons killing other daemons was greater than the number of daemons trying to kill Angry Marines.

The Mane Six watched on in stunned silence as the battle flowed and ebbed around them, the battle-eager daemons completely ignoring the six little ponies in their midst.

Twilight shook her head incredulously. “Holy fuck, I need be getting paid more to keep doing this kind of shit.”

***

Pounder spun around to face the remnants of the daemonhost. The once mighty Krull lay smoking at his feet… or more accurately, beneath the treads of the MOTHERFUCKING BANEBLADE Creed had managed to pull out of his ass.

“Emperor protect us…” The manly cigar-chomping motherfucker otherwise known to Pounder as Ursarkar E. Creed whispered, looking up at the towering Great Unclean One. Although his tank was mighty, it was no match for the daemon lord which struggled to haul his bloated mass out of the still growing warp portal.

“FUCK! NURGLE SHITLORDS?” Pounder roared, backhanding a madly gibbering Plaugebearer across the face. With a single movement, he shoved the daemon’s head into its rectum, breaking its spine and sending it writhing back into the warp to cry to its mother.

“COCK KNOCKERS, SMASH THE CHAOTIC SHIT OUT THE BIG FUCKER!” Pounder ordered, the boom of the Baneblade’s main gun drowned out by nearly a score of jump-pack equipped Angry Marine’s soaring overhead. They Marines hacked and smashed at the Daemon Lord with all their fury but the blows they inflicted had no effect on the hulking brute.

“IT’S NOT WORKING YOU ASSWIPE.” The Cock Knocker Sergeant reported bluntly, thoroughly pissed off that his power chair wasn’t working.

“FUCK IT, KILL THE LITTLE SHITERS THEN, I’VE GOT SOMETHING SPECIAL IN MIND FOR HIS FAT, FUCKING ASS.”

Without hesitation, the Cock Knockers peeled off from the Daemon Lord and started hacking an impressive path through his underlings.

Satisfied, Pounder voxed off one more message before looking around. “NOW WHERE THE HELL ARE THOSE LITTLE PONY FUCKHEADS?”

***

“What do we do Twilight?” Applejack asked worriedly as the beast continued to pull itself out of the pit.

“I SAY WE RIP HIS FUCKING ASSHOLE OUT AND FEED IT TO HIM.” Fluttershy suggested calmly.

“We need to close this portal.” Twilight affirmed, summoning the Elements of Harmony to her because the author forgot to take them off the Thunderhawk like the typical forgetful cunt he is.

“Too late!” Rainbow Dash cried, sweeping the others out of the way as a titanic foot came crashing down where had just stood.

“Free at last!” the Daemon cried with joy. “Come forth my children, come to spread the word of chaos!”

Unfazed, Twilight handed the Elements out and faced the portal. Reaching deep within her, she tapped into her reserves of energy that ~~turned her into the Avatar~~ fuelled the potent magical devices.

With a sudden surge of magic that seemed to destabilise the Daemons around them, a massive beam of Rainbow coloured light shot from the crown on her head and arched towards the portal the Daemon Lord had recently vacated. With a scream of rage, the portal collapsed in on itself, sealing the breach between the warp and Equestria with a violent thunderclap.

“You insolent fools!” the Daemon roared, trying to sweep at the ponies with its smoking blade. Its pudgy arms were so short though, that the wild swing sailed cleanly over their heads.

“FUCK, I’M GETTING REAL TIRED OF THIS SHIT!” Pounder yelled, suddenly appearing behind the ponies. He delivered a powerful kick to the daemon’s toe which did nothing other than tick it off.

“FUCKING RUN YOU STUPID DICKLICKERS!” He ordered, scooping up the six ponies in one gigantic hand.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING ANGRY, GET BACK TO THE FIGHT YOU PUSSY!” Fluttershy boomed, struggling against Pounder’s grip.

“WE’VE HIT IT WITH EVERYTHING WE COULD YOU RETARDED COCKSUCKER.” Pounder roared, sprinting away from the ponderous Daemon.

“So now what?” Twilight asked hopelessly.

“Ha! Flee you fools! Flee before I make you pay for killing my beloved children!” The Daemon roared triumphantly. “I have your cities, I have your world! It all belongs to Nurgle now!”

“WE HIT IT WITH WHAT WE CAN’T, HORN FAGGOT.” Pounder explained, pointing to a star in the sky.

Twilight frowned, it was the middle of the day; how was there a star in the sky?

The star drew closer and she soon realised… “That’s no star.” She breathed incredulously.

“BATTLE BARGE, ASS POUNDER ON STATION!” The vox in Pounder’s helmet roared and the falling star slowly formed into the shape of a long, ungainly metal box.

“You cannot hurt me, I am invincib- WHAT?” The Daemon Lord screamed, finally noticing the battle barge hurtling toward him, a gigantic middle finger extended from its prow.

“NO!” It roared as the millions of tons of Battle Barge ploughed into the daemon. Twilight couldn’t say for sure, but she swore she saw tiny yellow figures riding the ship down, guitars clasped in their hands and angry metal playing loudly from a thousand speakers.

“IMPOSSIBLE!” The Daemon screeched as a titanic nuclear fireball wiped it, Manehatten and most of the eastern Equestrian seaboard out in one fell swoop. How Pounder, his Angry Marines, Creed and the six ponies survived is a question best left not asked or answered.

“THAT SHUT THE DRIBBLING CUNT UP!” Pounder boomed cheerfully.

“Ha… ha… ha! Ha ha ha!” A deep, booming laughter came from the smoking crater. The booming laughter intensified and soon the Daemon crawled out of the smoke, injured but still alive. “Is that all you corpse-worshiping fools? Is that best you’ve got?”

“NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME FOR YOUR ELEMENTS OF DICKSUCKING.” Pounder roared, leading the ponies forward. He struck a suitably ass-kicking pose and pointed at the daemon, as if to smite it back to the warp.

“TASTE THE RAINBOW, MOTHERFUCKER!” Pounder roared, directing the six ponies to fire their GAY FRIENDSHIP BEAM straight into the Nurgle Lord’s gut.

“What, no!” The Daemon screamed as intolerable waves of FRIENDSHIP, HARMONY AND ALL THAT GAY SHIT washed over him. With a loud scream it was ripped apart, the nature of the beast unable to handle the effects of the magical artefacts.

After what seemed like several minutes of rainbows the daemon vanished, its warp-tainted flesh completely eradicated.

Pounder nodded in satisfaction and lowered his arm.

“FUCK YEAH.”

Author's Note

And that was the balls-tighteningly fantastic conclusion. I'm leaving this as Incomplete just in case I come up with any other good (i.e. bad) ideas/ need something to get angry about but this is more or less the end.of the Pounder's tales for now.

Happy swearing and thanks for the ride.

WHERE'S MY POWERFEET, DIPSHIT?!

WHERE'S MY POWERFEET, DIPSHIT?!

“JESUS CHRIST, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY HAND COCKSUCKER?” Pounder bellowed as the mare clamped itself around his appendage and giggled manically.

“I was right, I was right, I was right!” She chanted, completely ignoring Pounder’s quickly rising fury.

“NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN! GET THE FUCK OFF ME XENO OR I WILL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF, SHOVE UP YOUR ARSE AND THEN WEAR YOU AS A HAT.”

The aqua pony ignored him, stubbornly remaining locked around his wrist.

Roaring in anger Pounder lived up to his threat, ripping the ponies head clean off in a shower of gore before shoving the still gibbering head up its own anus. Finally, Ponder plopped the remains of the pony on top of his helmet where it defied several laws of physics to sit like a grisly trophy.

“That piece of headgear is not an Departmento Munitorum approved piece of equipment”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH FAGGOT, HATS ARE FUCKING COOL.”

“I SWEAR THAT JOKE IS MORE OVERUSED THAN A PRETTY MARINES VAGINA. FUCK.” Pounder rumbled. He hadn’t wanted to kill the pony but she had pushed him to the edge. Wishing he had something more interesting to fight, Pounder stomped off again.

It wasn’t long before something good happened. Pounder had only just rejoined his marines when his helmet’s vox snapped on.

“CAPTAIN, CHAOS DROP-SHIPS INBOUND. LOOKS LIKE A FUCKLOAD SIR.” The excited tones of the Battlebarge’s captain said over the vox.

“DID YOU STOP SUCKING THE SERVITORS DICK LONG ENOUGH TO TRACE THE SOURCE?” Pounder asked.

“YOU FUCKING BEAT WE DID SHITHEAD. MOVING TO ENGAGE.” He replied before the link snapped off.

“ALRIGHT LISTEN YOU DICKHEADS, THE PRETTY MARINE DICKMUCNHERS ARE COMING DOWN FOR ROUND TWO, LET’S MAKE THEM WELCOME WITH A SOLID KICK TO THE FUCKING BALLS!”

The assembled score of marines cheered in approval and the ground shook as the Belligerent Engine that accompanied them smashed the earth around him in excitement; the ancient warrior’s battle-rage already building to titanic proportions.

A quiet noise of someone clearing their throat made Pounder turn around. PRNCESS HORNFUCKER stood behind him an alarmed look on her face. She gaze flickered to Pounder’s helmet where the grisly remains of the pony were still jiggling around. With a sad sigh her horn lit up and the remains of the pony stitched themselves back together in a way that made even Pounder’s skin crawl in disgust. After a moment to pony sprang back to life, gagging and choking.

“LIKE THE TASTE OF YOUR OWN SHIT, PONYFAG?” Pounder boomed, glaring at the pony in a manner which would send most mortal creatures running in terror

“Up yours!” She bellowed before marching away indignantly.

“Please refrain from killing my subjects, bringing them back is… a painful experience, to say the least.” She said sourly, undoubtedly put out by Pounder’s action.

“AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT HORNFUCKER? STAB ME TO DEATH WITH KINDNESS?”

Celestia quietly sung something that sounded vaguely like ‘Fly me to the moon’ under her breath. “I possess great power Captain; you would be wise not to cross me.”

Pounder snorted derisively and tuned back to his marines, quickly figuring the Princess was not worth his time. He noticed many of his marines twitched angrily at the use of witchcraft; a few chainswords revved loudly and his super-human hearing could hear many tire irons and bats being hefted in a threatening manner.

“ARE YOU ALL FUCKING STUPID? GET MOVING COCKBAGS!” Pounder bellowed, gesturing in the vague direction the Chaos dropships were expected to land. One of his veterans fell into step beside him and pointed angrily at the princess. “BADGER. CUNT. FUCK. DICKS!” He roared insightfully making his opinion of PRINCESS HORNFUCKER apparent.

“YEAH SHE’S A FUCKING BITCH BUT WE’VE GOT PRETTY FAGGOTS TO FUCK OVER. WHERE THE HELL IS THAT FUCKING TECHMARINE? THERE’S SOME FAGGOTS THAT NEED A KICK TO THE BALLS AND THIS CHAIR WON’T CUT IT.”

The veteran thrust his finger in the direction of the crashed Thunderhawk. “DIPSHIT IS OVER THERE. BUSY SUCKING THE MACHINE SPIRIT’S DICK LAST I SAW.”

“WELL I HOPE HE GIVES GOOD HEAD, I WANT THAT THUNDERHAWK HIGHER THAN FUCKING DOOMRIDER BY YESTERDAY.” Pounder grunted, stomping towards the wreck, oblivious of the fact that several large hedges stood in his path. The tall bushes stood little chance as the enraged Space Marine tore through them like a Lascannon through a grot. As he reached the crash site he was surprised to see a few incredibly brave (or stupid) ponies sitting around the crumpled war machine, mouths agape in awe.

“WORK YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. THE OMNISSIAH COMMANDS YOU.” came from the wreck, each word punctuated by the deafening peal of a hammer striking metal.

“Your flying machine appears to be broken.” A quiet voice said next to Pounder. Concealing his surprise, the captain looked down to see the diminutive form of a purple pony next to him.

“TWILIGHT FUCKTARD.” He rumbled, resisting the urge to punt the pony into the side of the wrecked Thunderhawk to see how big a bloodstain he could make.

“Hello Captain.” She said uneasy. “Your mechanic seems very… enthusiastic.”

Pounder grunted loudly and folded his arms across his chest.

The odd silence was split by a raging cry followed by another hammer blow. “CUNTNUGGETS!”

Silence.

“LOOKS LIKE DIPSHIT HAS GIVEN UP. FOR NOW.”

“What the fuck was that for?” Twilight asked. “He’s doing his best, no need to insult him!”

Pounder raised an eyebrow at the ponies foul language before remembering he had accidently taught her how to swear during his original visit. “DIPSHIT IS HIS NAME YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH. NOW GO AND FIND SOME STALLIONS DICK TO SUCK BEFORE I DECIDE TO PLAY A GAME OF DARTS WITH YOU AS THE DART.”

“Oral sex is not what I had in mind for the evening…” Twilight said flatly.

“CHRIST.” Pounder said simply, slapping his armoured hand across his face. “JUST FUCK OFF, YOU’RE MORE ANNOYING THAN A PRETTY MARINE LINING UP FOR A JUSTIN BIEBER CONCERT.”

“Who?”

Pounder cupped his head in his hands and wondered what he’d done to deserve this.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE ANYWAY, DON’T YOU HAVE THE ‘MAGIC OF FRIENDSHIP’ OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT TO HAVE SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT?”

Twilight shrugged “I noticed your mechanic was having trouble and I thought maybe I could help. I want to ask though, how does this thing fly anyway? It looks like you told aerodynamics to go fuck itself. Hard.”

“THE FUCK IS AERODYNAMICS? SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING FOR HERETICS OR WEEABOOS.” Pounder asked before marching over to the Thunderhawk and smashing the hull with the palm of his hand a few times. After a moment a red armoured techmarine appeared from behind the turbolaser mount, a gigantic hammer held casually in one hand.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FUCKFACE? I’M WORKING HARDER THAN A SLAANESHI WHORE UP HERE.”

“PURPLE FUCK OVER THERE WANTS TO HELP YOU, DIPSHIT.”

Dipshit looked at the small crowd of ponies and picked out the purple pony Pounder described. “WHAT THE FUCK COULD SHE DO? LUBE THE ENGINE? YOUR MOTHER COULD DO MORE THAN HER AND ALL SHE’S GOOD FOR IS GETTING FUCKED IN THE ARSE BY HAIRY MEN. FUCKING XENO PROBABLY KNOWS AS MUCH ABOUT THREE POINT POWER CONVERTORS AS YOUR DICK, WHICH IS TO SAY, NOTHING.”

“FUCK OFF.” Pounder yelled back, gently unholstering his powerchair and placing with almost loving care against the bent hull of the Thunderhawk. “YOU GOT ANY POWERFEET? FAGGOTS NEED THEIR BALLS KICKED IN.”

“”WHAT DO YOU THINK? COURSE I GOT SOME YOU FUCKING IDIOT. YOU TAKE JUST ONE THOUGH, IF I FIND YOU WITH POWERFEET STRAPPED TO YOUR ARMS AGAIN I’LL SHOVE THIS TURBOLASER DOWN YOUR THROAT AND OUT YOUR FUCKING ARSEHOLE.”

“FUCK YOU, MACHINE WHORE.”

Dipshit happily raised his middle finger, flipping Pounder the bird with unrestrained joy.

Pounder returned the gesture and ripped off the side door of the Thunderhawk in his haste to get to the destructive equipment kept inside. Ignoring the loud and ungraceful protests of the Techmarine on top of the hull, Pounder entered the darkened interior and looked around slowly. After a quick scan of the cargo bay his eyes locked on a metal crate labelled 'FOR KICKING THOSE FUCKS IN THE BALLS!'

Pounder grinned widely under his helmet. This was going to be fun.