All this pirate talkin' got me feeling nostalgic for my days playing Warhammer 40k! I wrote a little short story set in the 'Battlefleet Gothic' game a while ago. Commander Kehntari isn't really a pirate at all, really more a privateer. But I miss his style! I loved writing his dialogue. Wish I could talk like that all the time! :) Bonus points to everyone who catches all the Pink Floyd quotes in the third story.
Praise to the Emperor! After many months of laboring in vain on my stricken vessel, I decided that only the Adeptus Mechanicus could properly minister to its injuries. The tech priest breathed life into my injured craft, but only briefly. "Its spirit is sick, m'lord." hissed the priest. "The organ which controls the mighty rumble of its heart is damaged. You must find a replacement."
"Zounds!" I cried. "No mean feat, that. For it is a relic, predating even the Heresy!" So began the perilous quest, which led to the Eye of Terror and back. Many leads were followed to no avail. Then, a pirate vessel in orbit around the lonely outpost world of U-Tah proffered a module for purchase. "A worthy module, m'lord. And such a handsome price!" "So be it, freebooter!" I cried in a loud voice. "But be warned, the wrath of the Legion will be upon you should your claims prove false!" Now I await the arrival of my precious module, stranded in the Necromunda Hive, languishing. Perhaps the friendly natives will entertain me?
...
Praise to the Emperor! After many months of languishing in Hive, the precious module has arrived! It came not from U-Tah as we originally believed but Khen’tukhi, a savage world beyond known Imperial space. We brought the strange device to the Adeptus Mechanicus, that they might begin the Rites of Repair and Engine Prep. “The Machine God demands a tithe, o lord” wheezed the tech priest. I searched my person for a worthy gewgaw. Finally, I gave the priest a ring of adamantine I gained during the Scouring of Delvan V, a bauble from a shattered world. “A fortunate token, m’lord. The Machine God is pleased. We will begin the Rite.” Silently I cursed all priests of technology. Their ways are not the ways of good fighting men! After waiting what seemed to be many hours a loud, throaty rumble filled the air. A shudder of joy ran through me! “She lives! By the Emperors Teeth
, she lives!” I exclaimed, shaking my fist. “Beware minions of Chaos! The pride of the Fleet rides the spaceways again! Look you to your ramparts, vain Eldar, the Fist of the Emperors Might comes to smite you!” “What is our destination, Commander?” asked the navigator. “Terra system! The Imperial Shipyards of Mars! I believe it is time to find another warship to carry on the fight, before this one dies the Final Death!” Ah, to be sailing in the inky black of space once again! To have freed my feet from yon worthless rock! By my beard, space flight has never tasted so
sweet!
...
After many months of space travel and trouble with the interstellar overdrive, Mars laid before us like a crimson jewel. We were met in orbit by a high ranking Tech Priest. “Greetings Commander,” intoned the priest. “I am Bishop Essington Strek, I am Chief of the Imperial Shipyards.“
“Greetings!” I boomed. “This ancient ship I command has been through many battles, and it is time to obtain another.”
“According to our records, the Admiralty approved your transfer request years ago. Why have you waited all this time for a new ship?” he asked.
“Waste not, want not.” I shrugged. “Besides, the call to battle is hard to ignore.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “Your reputation precedes you, Commander.”, he said shuffling his paperwork. “You are currently assigned to a Firestorm class frigate. The Admiralty is assigning you to a Dauntless class cruiser.”
“A Dauntless?” I breathed. Long had I yearned for such a craft. Its smooth lines and curves belie its enormous firepower and speed.
“What colour is it?” I asked.
“Why, any colour you like!” he replied.
I knew the answer in an instant. “Black, then. Black as a starless night! Black as an Eldar’s soul!” “Very good. It is in orbit on the dark side of the moon, Phobos. What is to be done with your old ship m’lord?” asked the priest.
Strewth! I had given no thought to the old girl. She had been a loyal servant. I was even willing to forgive the time I was becalmed in the Sargasso of Space! She was too proud to be sold to some rogue trader, or left for a space hulk. What would be an appropriate end for her?
Then it occurred to me. “Set controls for the heart of the sun, Priest! Her grave shall be the fat old sun!”
Scurry back to the Eye of Terror, o Chaos! Flee my wrath, o green skinned Orks! The pride of the Fleet now rides an ebony war-horse! Together we shall bring the Emperors Light to this benighted galaxy!”
Yours in Imperial Service,
Commander Kehntari
