The Universal Bar
For those that have read the Warp Bar, I'm very truly sorry. It was disgusting from the beginning and I will answer for it before the judgment of God. If you haven't read it, good for you and don't let curiosity guide you to destruction.
Ive gotten bored with writing about Deamons, because lets face it, they are all very boring to start with. Instead I've opened another bar, which primarily deals with every race and the 'talk-of-the-town' issues of the 40k world/real-world during the current time.
Its another 'useless' fiction which doesn't make any sense so don't expect any.
Expect nothing but crap and garbage, expect... “The Universal Bar”.
Yells, screams and celebration could be heard coming from behind the Cadian gate. In fact it wasn't only the Cadian garrison which seemed to be celebrating hard, the Vallhallan under city was alight with decorations, banners and mobs of drunk Party goers. Catachan was riddled with cans of beer, alcohol and Christmas party hats. Even Mordia seemed a little less morbid as the Ruling Tetrarchs handed out free water and the odd whistle was heard from the Mordian ranks. Actually almost every Imperial Guard regiment also seemed to be acting strangely.
“What the hells going on? What'r they so bloody happy about.” BloodLetter Varnak pointed in the direction of the Cadian defences. It had been three days since the first dance club music was heard over the Cadian Propaganda speakers and it hadn't ended since, infact it increased and so did the cheerful shouts of Celebration.
BloodLetter Grom stared at BloodLetter Varnak with surprise. “What? You haven't heard? The bastards are getting a new codex, comin' out in May or something. Fuck em, we just got ours.”
“Yeah but ours is still like 1st edition or something, we only just got our own codex, let alone a... Ow! Don't slap me!”
“Shut up, don't rub it in.”
Mean while, in the Dark Elder city of Commoragh.
“You know what? Fuck this shit!”
“Can we go the Universal Bar?”
The Universal Bar, for all of its universalness, was full of drunk and drinking Guardsmen who didn't seem to be leaving in a hurry. The other patrons did seem to be leaving on the other hand. “Oi ya fancy a REAL man! Come 'ere Xenos! More for less Hahaha! Only 5 points Xenos!” Elder and Tau swiftly filed out of the Bar, constantly harassed by pissed Imperial Guardsmen.
“Ha! Nice arse on that one eh?”
The Bar was filled with Humans, mostly drunk and celebrating. At the back of the premises stood a thin wooden bar table taking up most of the back wall. On it were arrayed guardsmen jumping around clumsily and dirty dancing female guardsmen and Elder females, one of which seemed to be a drunk Farseer. To the left of the bar (looking at the bar) were set up a few pool tables and dart boards, nothing flash, although all of the pool tables had alcohol crazed Catachans, Valhallans and Tallarn standing on them cheering drunkly.
“Special characters mother fuckers!!! Special Characters!!”
“Iron Hand is back ya bastards!”
“Vanquishers and Exterminators!”
“Awesome big stuff!!”
“Strength 5, assault 20 Gattling Cannon!”
Tank commanders shouted atop the round tables filling the front and middle of the bar, clutching large mugs of frothing beer, toasting their glasses together.
The area to the right of the bar was made up of dark brown couches, some square tables connected to the right wall and a fireplace which was usually reserved for the educated classes, Officers, Warlocks and Tzeentch. Surprisingly that area was very quiet. Whatever Commissars that had bothered to turn up to the celebration sat on the couches and at the square tables skulking. Only the Commissars didn't seem to find anything worth cheering about. “Captain Damien!” The red uniformed Captain of the 23rd Armaggeddon Storm Troopers who was fumbling at the suite of an Elder Exarch on a round table behind the Commissar's couch, swiveled clumsily to face the angry Commissars behind him and stood to attention evidently swaying under the influence of alcohol. “Sirr?” He managed to slur. The Elder female giggled.
“Captain! Deep Strike your self some where else! With your new DeepStrike re-rolls!...'sigh' Have your fun while it lasts Captain.”
“Fank yu sirr! Sorry bout the leadersship nine sirrr and the one wound, oh yer and the limit on wargear. Thats fuked ssirr. The boys fink so asswell.”
Imperial Officers from various regiments occupied the bar table while staring up at the dancing females.
“I Order you! Hahaha!”
“No no no, I Order YOU! Hahaha!”
“Bloody oath these new special Orders are great! Extra lasgun shots? Pft, thats bloody brilliant!”
Outside of the Bar, Ogryns and Rattlings hugged and cheered while smoking various drugs. Most of the Rattlings smoked rolled joints while the Ogryns drowned barrels of grog.
“Yesss! New models and Infiltrate! And Stealth! We've been remembered!”
“Hah! Tuffness five and da fury charge! Dats 'bout right!”
“I hear GW's gonna be getting' rid of the 20 man boxes and replacing em with 10!”
Suddenly the whole Bar stood still. No one spoke.
Alle's Klar? Herr Kommissar