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The Knights Sanguine


Sigismund Himself

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[center; background-image:url(http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/hq2.gif); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 8px 2px; padding: 12px 8px 12px 8px; border: 1px solid #DDD; margin-left: 0 auto; text-align: left; color: #fff; text-indent:50px; font-size:130%; width:50%;">The Tragic Tale of the Knights Sanguine
Da rip snortin' tale of da Blud Ghulz!
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The group of Orks huddled closer round the fire. Four of them were brash young stormboyz, barely enough scartissue on them to weigh a Grox down. The other figure was much smaller, a wizened lump whose head was deep in his big mug. The scene was fairly peaceful for a gathering of five Orks, which meant it had about the level of sound of an Inquisitional torture chamber that was under use.

"Oi, Kartak, give us a story," yelled the biggest brute. Soon the rest of the orks agreed to the demand. No one wanted their face in the fire tonight, obviously. The chant of "Story, story, story..." went up. The smaller figure raised its head from the beer and regarded the group closely.

"Youse wanna story, do ya?" it said. A collective roar assented, with one or two cries of "Get on with it, ya squig herda" or words to that effect.

"Okay den. Dis is da tale of da Blud Ghulz," the old squig herder whispered menacingly.

'Round 'bout da time Korlak da 'Ead Krusha fell to da spiky boyz, these beakiez turned up.
Dey were noice and shinny but dey fought hard. Sum of dem were madder den Magdruk,
Kept on fighting even when a bligging Squiggoth stoomped and gor'd dem
Weirdboy Jark said dey musta been from da Red Marinez, 'cause of da looniez
But he had already been at da fungi beer and Mork had been talking to him funny-like
Deir funny pole-clothes said dey were de "Nights Sagwiniun"
So we called da Night Sang Wine
But dose boyz could fight and da spiky boyz didn't like dem much
Dose talky-talky, chanty-chanty spiky boyz got driven back into da warpy placez
And den da Night Sangers took da beat-up old place Bartal
Wich wernt even worth da bother for a good biff
And built da big gunz and shipz, wid dis stuff, dey gave us a biff
Too guda biff and we had to go foind anutha biff for a moment

Da otha 'oomies almost worshipped dem
Sang deir praises as if dey were Gork or sumting
Said dey were noble and angels and everyting else
But dey was damn gud foighters
Mostly dey fell from da sky in dose mini Roks dey use
Dey seemed to like those a lot
Den deir dakka-dakka and whirry-swords dey used
Didn't mind facin' us face to face
Even den, deir crazy boys were tuff
But you didnt see one of dem everytime you fought dem
Dey seemed to be foightin' wid da beakies wid twos on dem all da time
Dose ones wid da twos were always in blak
But da rest of da beakies were all shiny in deir gold
And da ones in da blak never turned up wen deir were other 'oomies 'round
Funny dat but dey were baaaaad

On da world of Skorga, der Night Sang Wine got us gud
Deir head, head boss fought Marok da Destroya
Marok stood as high as a Squiggoth's knee
Yet da only blow he landed was across da beakies' pretty face
Cut from ear to above da other, a good 'un
But da git went and stabbed Marok through da 'ead
Den da rest of da boyz were needed elsewhere
Only Karg, a Death Skulls' Loota was left on da field
He told us dat da rest of da head, head boss' closest boyz gathered round 'im
Da git got up, wid da big slash across 'is face
Der rest of dem seemed quite angry loike, 'specially da one wid da 2 swords
Dat one talked for a bit, saying dat coz da head boss weren't pretty no more
And coz he didn't look like a Sang Wine, none of dem would either
So dey all draw deir choppy knives and sliced across deir faces
From den on, all of da beakies we saw wid deir beaks off had dem scars
'Cept for da younga ones who are squishier and softa den normal


The small herders voice dropped and the others gathered nearer to hear his voice. Unfortunately, this placed the arm of one of the Orks in the fire. After several minutes spent trying to put the fire out on the yelling ork by his Stormboy companions and an unspoken apology of an offering of more fungus beer to the annoyed herder, the story resumed, with one of the orks sulkily sitting the farthest from the tale and with no beer.


Den da spiky boyz came from dat huge warpy hole
Ignawed us, even dough we hit dat prayery place dey loiked so much
Strait for Bartal where da Night Sang Wine wer
So da biggest biff dat hasn't involved us dat I hav seen, started
We got dis info from one of them 'oomies dat folla da spiky boyz round
Da spiky boyz had sarrounded da planit and wer gunna blow da big city from space
But den all of da hardest beakies used tellyportas to get to dem Chaos ships
So a gud scrap started, wid only da hardest of da hardest survivin'
One of da Nights Sang Wine weirdboyz fought his way to da bridge
Den da 'ead boss of da spiky lads was dere too
So a foight broke out, of epoich proportions
Da spiky boss was beaten but his lads shot down da weirdboy as he lay da killin' blow
Den all der rest of da beakies went crazy, or mosta them
Maybe dey all loved 'im lots 'n were upset
Our own weirdboy muttered sumting about psykik deth scream
But we all know dat dem weirdboyz dont have deir 'eads on strait
Anyhow, dey cut down da spiky boys, doubletime!
Dey still got some shots down at Bartal but da big boooom was stopped
Da spiky boyz started runnin' but not many got away

Da 'oomie said dat da Nights Sang Wine had all gone insane but for 'bout a hundred
And dat dey had become daemons that could tear a Warboss in two
Mudruk thought dis wold be a gud biff
So 'e gathered da boyz together and orf dey went
Only one of da ships limped back from da 50ish dat set orf
Fulla grots it were and no livin' ork
Da small gits went on 'bout ghosts 'n ghouls dat had pounced from blackness
Da few Orks on board wer mostly ripped inta parts
A limb dere and a head dere
A gud challenge or so Larkrak thought
So orf he went wid 80ish ships
Larkrak comes bak fairly sharply, wid but two ships
Said he decided sat da spiky boyz would be more of a challenge
Da grots whispered of beakiez ripping through Rok loads of Orks
Blood in deir eye and a mad howl on deir lips
So da rest of da boyz thoguht Larkrak might be roight fur once
Spiky gits would be more fun
We coulda beaten dem of course but we too busylike
Dunno where dey are anyways

Dey said to wander da stars now, huntin' for anyting
Only da blud of da livin' is sent to make dem happy
Bloodstained spirits dat stalk where dey please
Pass any guards, kill any armies
All deir prey has fallen before dem
Dey is said to be partial to ork blud
Particularly of young 'uns
Many a young stormboyz las sight was of dat gore stained, screamin' face wid a scar
Whoile he lay dyin' in a pool of his own blud wid no arms or legs to call 'is own
Watch da shadows behind yer mate and hope to Gork he does it fur you
Coz dey are out der in da darkness of the 'ooniverse, dose beakies
Just watchin', waitin' for blud...

The squig herder's voice trailed of on the last syllable, enjoying his audience's reaction to his ending. "Dat's enuff stories fur da while," proclaimed the old ork. 'Ave a gud sleep now, boyz," he said as he stumbled unsteadily back to the squig pens, the last of the fungus beer in his grasp. Behind him gathered the stormboys. Even the one who had been burnt huddled near the fire. No Ork looked at the darkness. Careful banter struck up among the group with no mention being made of anything in the last hour or so. In human terms, they were basically talking about the weather. Dawn could obviously not come quick enough.


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