“Hey, haven't seen you for ages!”
“Yo whats up?”
“Not much, just trying to scrap an' survive. Hey you've got one of those new things.”
“Yeah, managed to finally get one.”
“Does it work?”
“What happens if you click that switch?”
“I don't know!”
“Will it help if you push that?”
“I don't bloody know! I just got the bloody thing!”
“What? You can't get something without knowing if it works!”
“Well I DON'T, ok. Jeez!”
“...I'm just interested...”
“I know, I'm sorry.”
Inquisitor Darcy scratched his head, attempting to remember something while apologising to BloodLetter Krovya for his outburst. “You know, I was supposed to do something..” Bloodletter Krovya shrugged his shoulders, “Beats me. So what'r you doing later? I wanna see if that new Power Stake of yours works.” The Inquisitor, adorned in grey carpace armour, with a brand new Power Stake hanging by his side shook his head. “Nah, sorry. I'm pretty busy today doing...”
Snapping his fingers, Inquisitor Darcy remembered what he had been trying so hard to remember. “Thats right! In the name of the Holy Ordo Mallues Inquisition, Holy subjects of the Immortal Emperor, guardians of Humanity...” Bloodletter Krovya rolled his eyes. “...I hereby sentence you, a vile Daemon of Chaos to death by His Immortal Will!” Snatching up the stake, Darcy rammed it up into the Bloodletter's throat spraying himself and Krovya with a runny black blood. Falling onto his back, with a Power Stake jammed into his throat, Bloodletter Krovya gurgled and bubbled, blood running from his mouth. “...Hey!..*gurgle*...It works..*gurgle*...cool!”
His body jerked and slashed before falling still. Inquisitor Darcy pulled the stake out of Krovya's throat and studied it for a moment.
“Hey whaddaya know, it does.”
The story takes place in the infamous red light district of The Eye (like The Eye isn't bloody infamous enough) where the scum of scum of scum find solace and comfort in their existence, drinking, whoring and killing. A place reserved solely for criminals, the lost and the demons of The Eye’s society, avoided by the majority of The Eye’s inhabitants not wanting any trouble and… wait, what? Who the hell puts a red light district into a Daemon infested hell!?… anyway, our hero, an honest and ambitious Daemon Prince by the calling of Ormoran who owns a popular pub in the district has fallen on hard times.
(Ormoran stands in front of some pub. He’s a Daemon Prince wearing a dirty white apron and a burgundy red bow tie around his large and unholy daemonic neck. His expression is melancholic and rather blank. He scratches his tainted head and looks at you.)
“Its not a pub, it’s a bar.”
Right, now Ormoran, who everyone calls Orm, has lately been finding it difficult to serve any customers, mainly due to the fact that there aren’t any.
“Stupid author‘s fault.”
No, Orm, it’s the new Black Crusade that’s eating at your customers.
“No, it’s the stupid author, who’s probly gonna say he’s had some tough time working or doing personal stuff, when he’s actually a really lazy bastard.”
Ha ha, Orm, don’t kid me, seriously.
“Shut up. Lazy bastard.”
…right, anyway now that the author is back, he thought it’d be a good idea to show everyone how the this side of the Daemon infested Eye runs when the rest of the Ruinous Powers are out fighting the loyalist Imperial forces.
“It runs like normal.”
He he, come on, theres gotta be something going on. While the cats away, the mice come out to play eh?
(You enter the bar, the words WARP BAR flashing atop the entrance. Inside, the insidious Daemon of Chaos Ormoran stands behind the long bar table, watching you. The bar table is placed to the right of the establishment, taking up a third of the square room. To the left, closest to the entrance sit the pool tables and the rest of the bar is taken up by little round tables, capable of fitting up-to six lesser Daemons each. Each table is numbered by a small, bloody and tattered number on a miniature Chaos banner. The numbering is for the purpose of ordering food and drinks, but the Warp Bar’s chef and attendants are out assualting the Cadian Gate, so there won’t be any food or ordering drinks any time soon.)
So today Orm will take us through the vile daily rituals of the Warp Bar, now that there are no customers and no chef.
“Nothing changes you bastard! The only difference is the author, who’s too bloody lazy to think of a story line for the 5th episode of the Warp Bar!”
Oh come on, he’s not that lazy! There’s gotta be some point to having this episode. Who would get drunk at a night club with his girlfriend and mates and then leave abruptly just so that he can spend the rest of the night writing another episode of a short fiction and post it up on an popular miniature game forum?
“…he would. There’s no punch line, nothing. Not even a point. Trust me mate. If anything, this whole episode is a warning to all those with any shred of dignity and humanity to steer clear of any further threads starting with ‘Warp Bar’ because that lazy bastard has finally decided to re-open the Warp Bar and somehow produce more hastily and poorly written fiction about a small bar, full of comical and crappy Daemons complaining about useless shit, found in the Eye of Terror.”
…ah, sadly that makes perfect sense…
“So if you’ve had enough with bothering me, I’ve got bloody (and they are bloody) tables to wipe down before the Inquisition intervenes with the new Crusade and the customers start rolling in. With any luck, that lazy bastard author will follow up with his warning and start posting more Warp Bar episodes (hopefully with actual storylines), corrupting the young minds of some and fuelling the insanity of others. Now piss off, cause things are about to get Chaotic!”
Yeah, thats right, unfortunately it looks like the Warp Bar is back. There was a bit of a hatius as I've had a tough time working and doing some personal stuff.
Cheers. and sorry.