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Adeptus Imperialis

Welcome to Adeptus Imperialis! Home to all things Warhammer 40k regardless of skill level. Warhammer Fantasy and Blood Bowl are also welcome!
Rules are simple, please submit to the correct folders, no trash talking or bashing fellow deviants. Pretty simple! Any questions don't hesitate to ask!






Group Info

A group dedicated to Warhammer 40k art and literature. Everyone welcome!
Founded 7 Years ago
Jun 25, 2014


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171 Members
204 Watchers
14,247 Pageviews


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:iconthe-holy-ordos: :iconadepta-librica: :iconlaughter-and-battle:
Hello everyone!
I'm looking to do some commissions for anyone who was there Warhammer 40k characters or something in the line of artwork.
You can see my prices down below have fun.
Pls do Dm me if you're wanting to buy from me.
also, I only use Paypal.
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Doodles and Damnation by Shukafae
Ask Adora: 2 by Shukafae
Catfight by Kain-Moerder
Ask Adora! -CLOSED by Shukafae
Imperium of Man
Primaris Commander holding he's ground by snip105
Imperial Guard - Mountain Trooper by Katsica
Psyker Slavic Girl by UNOPk
Mountain Fortress by snip105
Mutants Traitors and Chaos
Chaos Sorcerer by UNOPk
Simplord by UNOPk
Ishtar by Fluid-Fox
Iron warrior by LordCarmi
You have colonized the wrong planet by Gray-Skull
Necron Spider Guardians Vs Orks by Gray-Skull
Ynnary Voidship by LordCarmi
Roboute and Yvraine (updated art) by Gray-Skull
Guardsmen and photogenicity by BunnyInAShirt
Temptation of the Guardsman by BunnyInAShirt
Hive Tales #8 by Sael-ar
They helped as best they could by BunnyInAShirt
*horny beep boop noises* by Gray-Skull

Mature Content

Dark Eldar Wyches by LordCarmi

Mature Content

Eversor Assassin 18+ by Gray-Skull

Mature Content

Prisoners of Slaanesh by Zypherartworks

Mature Content

WH40K Silent Running: Whatever Flag They Offer"Swear allegiance to the flag Whatever flag they offer Never hint at what you really feel...""Silent Running," Mike and the Mechanics+++++“By the order of the Holy Ecclesiarchy and the will of our undying Emperor's eternal wisdom, you are to bow down before the image of the God-Emperor of Mankind and pledge your undying loyalty to the service of his Imperium!”One by one, Treza Epifano and all of the other students of the University of Genova faced their choice in a perverse sort of graduation ceremony: genuflect, or die. Schaeff...he was surely already gone, whether drained to death from his psychic feat, or at the hands of someone very much like the skull-adorned, armored religious officials before her now. And so it would soon go with the rest of the city of Genova, and the outlying towns like Austa.Treza had done what Schaeff had asked of her. She thrown all her effort into researching this horrid new order the instant their conquest of Malekandre officially became known. She could never perform their rituals; that much she'd known from her first glance at a translated version of their scriptures.But...Schaeff would go willingly to the death before betraying all that he...that they...had stood for. For her...that could not be. For there was one last thing Schaeff had asked of her: to live. If no one lived, then all truly was lost. This was her burden. She prayed that by the time she reached the stage to hear her own name called, she might somehow find the strength to take it up.She studied the onstage figures from her seat several rows back from where they stood. There stood the Head of University, Mila Mordino, hands tremoring as she scrolled through the list of names as she read them out one by one under the watchful gaze of the very much human aliens flanking her on both sides as well as behind. Treza almost wondered for a moment if Professor Mordino's legs were shackled somewhere out of sight, beneath her official robes, physically anchoring her into this dreadful nightmare.--CRACK.Another shot echoed painfully off the walls of the auditorium. Treza winced. They were growing fewer and further between now that they'd worked their way through the first few letters of the alphabet.Damiani, Elia Antonina lay in a crumpled heap upon the stage, blood pooling beneath her head.Professor Mordino stared off at some imaginary point on the far wall, her features a frozen mask.Treza forced herself to return her attention to the stage before the Imperial soldiers standing in the aisles on either side noticed too much of a reaction. There had been a few other shots aimed into the audience, too.The other figures on the stage, surrounding Professor Mordino--they made her simple, black ceremonial robe look like a burlap sack. Ostentatious didn't even begin to cover what Treza took to be the two clergy of the Imperial Ecclesiarchy standing in the central position onstage. The male wore ornate white robes trimmed in scarlet and gold, far more elaborate than anything she had ever seen Schaeff or any minister in Austa wear...or even in the city of Genova.The robes weren't the half of it though. Were those written scrolls adorning the clergy, serving the woman as a tabard, and attached to the male by what looked like ancient wax seals? The female--the only one who seemed to speak the local language, as far as Treza could tell--wore bright crimson robes trimmed in gold...and a belt of skulls.Not actual human skulls--at least, the ones on her belt didn't look real. The one mounted on her staff, though, above a giant, open book (how in the blazes did the book actually stay open to the intended page, anyway?)...was that one real? Had it once belonged to someone like Damiani, Elia Antonina, who refused to bow before the other priest, the one whose immense staff was topped with the gilded icon of a glowering, armored man with a wreath of leaves around his head?Treza shivered.A few Imperial soldiers guarded the clergy--but it was the male priest himself who was carrying out the executions. No...the soldiers were the ones who kept their weapons trained on the line of students as they ascended and descended the stage. If they survived.They also kept their weapons squarely aimed at several of the University's janitorial staff, who had been conscripted into cleaning up the gruesome messes left behind by those who didn't. The instant they scrambled off the stage, another name rang out.Derege, Casimiro Sesto.No gunshot this time, at least.The soldiers flanking Treza's own row barked out a foreign command and gestured for the next group of students--her group--to rise. As if the gesture hadn't been universal enough to understand, the clack-clack of their guns being readied for action made the point crystal clear.Treza rose, just barely managing to maintain her place at the eye and still keep her focus on the stage. For there was one more figure up whose origin she suspected, but had to be certain of if...She swallowed. Hard.Durante, Terenzio Raffaelo.There. An enormous, hooded figure standing stock-still just off to the side of the clergy and their guards, belonging to their retinue yet not entirely belonging just the same. He...she assumed it was a 'he,' based on his height and what she could make of his build...was heavily armored from head to toe. Steel pauldrons sat upon his shoulders, over a red robe trimmed in white. And beneath the hood...two glowing green lenses stared out across the crowd, the rest of whatever face existed beneath his armor...if any...covered by what looked to be some sort of breathing and life support apparatus. He bore no visible weapons, but to do so almost seemed like overkill, for he himself was a weapon, from the looks of it.He did not participate in the rituals--never moving, or even speaking...just there, observing. As she got closer, she couldn't tell if he was even breathing, or if some other process sustained him.She knew for certain what he was now--she'd found enough images in her research to get the idea. This was a Tech-priest. Adeptus Mechanicus.Her heart hammered fiercely against her ribs. Only a few people left between her and the stage. She wondered for just an instant if the Imperium's soldiers could hear it from where they stood.Eftemie, Marika Alexandra.The next thing she knew, she had reached the steps. A soldier blocked the way, rifle pointed down but his finger clearly on the trigger ready to swing it into her face if she made any unexpected moves.Professor Mordino's voice rang out from the speaker right next to her, so loudly it beat out its own rhythm on her trembling body."EPIFANO, TREZA ANTONELLA."The Imperial soldier stepped aside, silently pointing up towards the clergy as if she could possibly have any confusion by now as to where to go.She forced her feet by an act of will to cross the stage and stop at a white, painted mark on the floor.The female clergywoman stared her down with uncompromising brown-black eyes. She issued the same command she had to all of the university students, unnaturally loud as some sort of amplifier-collar broadcast her voice for all to hear.“By the order of the Holy Ecclesiarchy and the will of our undying Emperor's eternal wisdom, you are to bow down before the image of the God-Emperor of Mankind and pledge your undying loyalty to the service of his Imperium!”This was it. The conqueror's command she could not, in her deepest conscience, possibly obey.Yet she must not fall--in her life, even if that was all she had left to her--the memory of the old world must remain.Another way...she felt sure there was another way but to actually face her--and to face him...Please...forgive me, my Lord of All, for what I am about to do.She turned her head past the clerics, caught instead--or at least thought she had--the unblinking gaze of the armored being standing off to their right.She had been rehearsing these words all night, all day now. She still did not know if there existed any ritual for this, or what the response would be...but it was all she had. She forced herself to speak these words not as a tremulous whisper, but something resembling a confident pronouncement, for they would decide her fate."I declare my allegiance to the Adeptus Mechanicus and to the Omnissiah whom they serve!"The male cleric started to raise his weapon. Before he could even get it a centimeter of the way there, the Tech-priest barked a sharp command in the invaders' language. Everyone froze at the sound of his unnatural voice.Treza kept her gaze focused on the Tech-priest, though the glow of his artificial eyes was starting to pain her own very organic ones. Out the corner of her eye, where her field of vision wasn't completely washed out by the fierce green light, she could almost swear she saw the clerics glaring daggers at the Tech-priest.For his part, he gave no indication whether he noticed, or cared. Those awful, radiant lenses bore down upon her, virtually daring her to blink. She continued to resist the urge.At last the Tech-priest declared, in clear Malekandrenin without even a hint of the female cleric's otherworld accent: "I receive your submission for entry into the Cult Mechanicus."The Tech-priest issued another rapid command in the Imperial speech. The soldiers on the far side of the stage beckoned her.To shoot her offstage once they'd made it out of the Tech-priest's sight? Maybe, Treza thought to herself as she forced her rubbery legs to descend the stairs. Those clerics of the Ecclesiarchy hadn't exactly looked thrilled with the Tech-priest's intervention.Then again, if what she'd managed to learn about the basic setup of the invading Imperium was right, that Tech-priest wasn't likely to take defiance of his command lightly either. Hopefully, if she was reading this whole thing right, he'd meant what he said. She'd learned a bit of what the Mechanicus was capable of--she knew this could backfire drastically in a number of horrific ways if the Ecclesiarchy still decided to pull something behind the Tech-priest's back, or if the Tech-priest himself had something of a grimmer nature in mind than she.She could only pray--silently--as the Imperial soldiers led her by gestures towards some sort of storage room behind the stage to wait, that she'd made the right choice.+++++

Mature Content

Hard choice by BunnyInAShirt
Skaven Matriarch concept by OGYungLilBig
Kallura in Bretonnia by HorsesPlease
Dwarf clan helhein by LordCarmi
Blood Bowl
Troll by MarkBulahao

Mature Content

Blood Bowl 2 Amazon by Lemorack
Blood Bowl The Powder Keg Cup Pt3 CONCLUSIONThree days of painstaking secret preparation and clandestine meetings passed before the big event finally arrived and the gates to the mansion's grounds were opened to the public. Thousands of eager blood bowl fans flooded in and packed the bleachers to the rafters. Food wagons and concession stands clustered around the stadium gates like flies around a wound right alongside the news carriages disgorging camra-men and their channel affiliates by the score. It was an almost obscenely perfect day save for the columns of smoke still belching from a thousand smoke stacks around the city, the weather was clear, the wind was down and the temperature was balmy. "Are we ready ladies?" asked Jessik of the assembled team standing in the gloomy privacy of the locker room. Overhead they could hear the impatient crowd stomping and cheering hard enough and loud enough to make a steady stream of dust fall from the ceiling. They had all been coached in ones and twos about what part to play without being told the whole plan in case of there being an informant in their midst. There was a chorus of ayes, and a ripple of nods but precious little enthusiasm, not that Owen blamed them. Their chances were slim at best, but at least there was a chance. Still, it was hard to keep from trembling when faced with the enormity of what they were about to step into and as far as he was concerned he had been handed the single most dangerous job of them all. It was enough to make him dizzy but he forced himself to square his shoulders and keep breathing. Here was his chance to disprove every doubter who had ever pushed him around. By his hand he was going to either win or lose a blood bowl was just a pity he had to do it in a skirt. "Line up as the coaches direct but the minute the whistle blows break how I told you, forget about the ball, if anyone has it just throw it to me, at me, or in my general direction. No matter how you might be tempted, don't run into the stands, as bad as whatever awaits us is it won't be as bad as the mob around us. No heroics, remember, we're not trying to win, we're just trying to survive and go home, understand?" Again, the ayes and nods before Jessik clapped her hands and ushered them out of the locker room and into the light of day where the crowds swelled and roared at the sight of them. Into the dugout they went for the coaches to lambast and berate, drilling the suicidal forward play into their heads with fiery oratory. Across the field in their opposite dugout, glaring at them with such hateful ferocity to be almost tangible was the single ugliest collection of brutes Owen had ever seen. He had seen them before of course but now they were looking back at him and the sight of them made his bladder clench. There could not have been a single one of them under seven feet tall or one that weighed less than three hundred pounds. It seemed as though they wore as little actual clothing as possible while also sporting more horns, spikes and chains than seemed feasible. A veritable smog of alcoholic fume, burned meat, and sweat stench hazed the air around them and that was before the ogres were taken into account. Ten foot tall at the very least and well over five hundred pounds each with gargantuan guts covered with massive crude copper gut plates. They glared about themselves with brute stupid expressions locked on their pin headed lantern jawed faces. They also came with their own personal aura of stench and cloud of flies. "Stick with me, Ginger," said Misha beside him giving him a not entirely gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "None of this works without you being where you're supposed to be." "Understood," he whispered though it was more to himself than to her.After haranguing them about the importance of sticking with the plan, they were ordered onto the field to an enormous welcoming cheer from the crowd. "You can do this, you can do this, you can do this," said Owen clenching his fists as he assumed his position three spaces behind Jessik and two from Misha. Even if he had never watched a game of blood bowl in his life, which he most certainly had, he would have seen this as an idiotic formation. It was thin, stretched and entirely outclassed by the mountain of men fueled by testosterone, mead, and whatever narcotics it was that made a man foam at the mouth and turn blue with rage opposite from them. There was a squeal of magical amplifiers coming to life and a humongous grumbling voice rang out over the field. "Good evening sports fans and welcome to the annual Powder Keg Cup! It looks like a full house all ready and waiting to see this particular keg of wanton violence explode! Your commentators tonight are Jim Johnson and myself Bob Bifford, evening, Jim!" "Good evening, Bob!" replied a higher somewhat nasal voice, "And good evening to all you fine folks from Nuln! Tonight the Hornettes, a team of lovely lissome ladies hoping to prove they've got a sting, square off against the...the uhm...the We Kill Good for Coin Maybe that right? Am I reading that right? I am? It is? Hilarious. Ahem, it appears we have a familiar face on the field Bob, do my eyes deceive me or is that Jessik Daruk former Blitzer for the Amazonian Black Spears?" "By Nuffle you're right, Jim, I'd never forget those two big, beautiful soft...err...eyes... and how she shocked us all with her aggressive frontal tactics at the Zlatlan Cup a year ago, it was a pure pleasure watching her pop those skinks like the runty little blood bags they were!" "Just so, Bob, it seems the rumors of her being dropped from the Black Spears were correct, apparently their human resources department did not take too kindly with her exchanging pleasantries with the oppositions water boy if you know what I mean, ha-ha!" Owen could hear Victoria and the four others in the dugout behind him burst out laughing and a glance at Jessik showed her glaring at the commentator's box high up in the stands with a look like murder on her face behind the bars of her helmet. "No idea, Jim, but who cares, we've got a game of Blood Bowl to play here tonight and it looks like the We Kill Good for Coin Maybe team is up to the task!" "Tune them out," ordered Misha just loud enough for him to hear, "tune them out girl, distractions are deadly out here." Owen nodded at her not trusting himself to speak.On the sidelines the ref preformed the coin toss, the whistle blew and the game began. Owen screamed as he and a few thousand pounds of human, mutant, and ogre muscle lurched into action. Turning on his heel he and the rest of the Hornettes ran away from the opposition, scattering in every direction on the pitch. "Stay on me! Stay right on me!" cried Misha breaking around a rampaging norscan so large he could have been mistaken for an ogre himself, he was so large and dangerous it seemed that even his own teammates feared him as he was fitted with an iron collar with chains connecting it to cuffs around his wrists.Staying right on Misha's heels, both of them reached the storm drain that they had secretly loosened in the night, kicked its cover aside and dove into the darkness. "I must check it over again before we do it, if anything has come loose we will be broiled to death!" warned Misha, her voice loud and echoing in the sewer tunnel despite the thunderous noise going on above them. Owen nodded furiously and gnawed his lip hoping against hope the slug that had devoured Giselle was content to guard the exit as he had said it would. He could certainly feel the magical tether keeping it in the sewer but he was no great mage himself to say it would or would not venture further for a meal. "This is the most foolish, stupid, dangerous thing I have ever done!" snarled Misha pouring over the odd contraption they had assembled out of bits and pieces of stolen material. Owen himself had done what he could with what magic he had at his command to make certain it would hold together long enough to do its task. It was little more than a keg with stolen piping leading from it to the storm drain directly connected to the opposition's dugout where five of their members were currently seated. There was more to it than that of course, gaskets, valves and other things that he had no knowledge of but none of that mattered to him. "Now?" he demanded not liking how the water was rippling around them, like something large further down the tunnel was moving. "Not yet!" snapped Misha checking each gasket and adjusting each valve. Overhead someone screamed a high ugly death scream that sent the crowd into a wild hysteria. "No way they're walking that one off, Jim!" laughed the commentator. "Hurry!" urged Owen. "Shut up and let me concentrate!" snarled Misha turning a screw with a stolen spanner. "Alright, now!" she ordered.Owen grabbed the iron rod shoved through the kegs tap and opened himself to the winds of magic. His hands glowed cherry red and the water inside immediately began to boil, the whole contraption began to shake and vibrate with such violence he nearly let go. "Don't slack off! Keep going!" ordered Misha over a growing whistling whine like the worlds angriest teakettle. Gaskets began to bubble and melt, thin streams of steam began to hiss around their edges, and the temperature in the tunnel immediately doubled then tripled. "We're so going to die!" screamed Owen over the rattling and hissing. "Keep going, there's almost enough pressure! We're almost there!"Just then with a wet suctioning sound audible even over the sound of the contraption, the slug loomed up out of the water beside them with a slobbering roar. Screaming defiance, Misha hammered the pressure valve with her spanner releasing the steam... There was a tremor in the ground and a shriek the likes of which Victoria had never heard before and the oppositions dugout vanished in a blast of superheated steam, the four norscans and one ogre inside had just enough time to scream before they were boiled. As an added bonus, the ref loitering by their dugout was also caught and steamed. "Look at that, Bob! It seems the We Kill Good for Coin Maybe team's dugout has just been enveloped in a cloud of steam!" "They're goners, Jim; I'd recognize the smell of steamed norscan anywhere." "Coincidentally, Bob, Chaos Wastes Kitchen top chef Mordon Rams-Head says if you've got to eat people, steamed is healthier than roasted." "No thanks, Jim, I'll stick with the tried and true Cooking with Malice Pit of Hate barbeque technique. If you fine folks out there want a finger licking good barbeque then choose Pit of Hate, like the bottle says, 'or else' heh heh." "Who could argue with that, Bob?" "No one who wants to keep living, Jim, that's who!"Victoria, spying the lack of a ref and ignoring the furious shouting of their couch, vaulted out of their own dugout and darted out onto the pitch but was immediately walloped over as something underground exploded. A huge plume of steam and filthy black sewage skyrocketed from a new hole in the center of the pitch. Gobbets of slimy meat began to splatter down around them confirming her suspicion that the slug had happened upon their little venture in the sewer. She could hear the commentators exclaiming over the explosion but her ears were ringing too loudly to make them out. If the norscans were at all bothered by the cooking of their teammates and the explosion, they showed no sign of it. She was attacked the moment she gained her feet and only by the barest of margins was she able to throw herself into a headlong roll to avoid being crushed under a furry boot half the size of her body. Cursing, the norscan festooned in chains connected to a collar around his bullishly thick neck offered her an almost sheepish grin and rattling shrug as he passed by apparently unconcerned with trying again. His handlers however, two smaller but nonetheless massive men hauled on his fetters and commenced to shouting at him so dreadfully Victoria almost felt it within herself to be sorry for the brute.With a monstrous roar of exasperation, the humongous chained norscan was wheeled around and shoved back towards her. This time he looked angry, though perhaps not with her exactly. Seeing her friend in peril Jessik appeared as if from nowhere at full attack speed, she smashed shoulder first into one of the handlers ramming him over onto the pitch in a tangle of cursing and thrashing limbs. It was however...not enough. Goaded by a sharp gauntlet being continuously jabbed into his side the chained man bellowed and hurled himself forward into a diving tackle so immense his shadow left Victoria and what felt like half of the pitch in darkness before he landed on her and squashed her flat... Jessik felt the familiar red haze of the berserker descend upon her as she saw her one and only friend get crushed under a norscan so large he could have arm wrestled an ogre. She was dead, no doubt about it, just like the little redhead and the soldier girl undoubtedly blown to bits or eaten by the slug before it was also blown to bits. Dead like that poor girl who froze up in front of the ogre, dead, dead, dead. She smashed into her target with a scream of fury, exulting in the feeling of her shoulder spikes tearing through flesh, muscle and bone. He died hard, the stinking brute underneath her. Even gutted he sought to grapple with her. Arching her back, straddling him, she brought her helmeted head down onto his with every ounce of strength she possessed and pulped his brains onto the yard-line. She bounced back to her feet dripping blood and brains and set herself towards the massive brute climbing ponderously to his feet but she was thwarted by a high scream to her left. Natalya, the onion flavored kislavite was zigzagging madly trying to avoid the ogre chasing after her. It still had a woman's shapely leg dangling out of its mouth as it chewed and guffawed loudly reaching for her with both hands. "Is not fair for you be to doink this to me! Vhat Natalya ever do to you?! Oh! Oh! Ursun safe me!" she shrieked. Her pleading only made the ogres idiot laughter grow louder despite the fact that captain Shayna had jumped on its back and was raining blows on its head with her truncheon that it seemed not to notice at all. Jessik spared the resting place of her friend one last look, tried to ignore the fact that she could not even see a body, which meant she was either squashed entirely flat or stuck like a bug to the norscans front and veered off after the ogre and beleaguered kislavite. She made it half way before she was tackled by what felt like a mountain slide. Crashing to the turf, rolling end over end, being crushed, cut and gouged by an immense weight she raged against the grasping hands pummeling her body trying to work their way around her neck. Gagging at the stench of rancid breath, she stared with white-hot fury at the grinning bearded face completely filling her field of vision. He opened his mouth to speak but a sound like a carpenter hammering nails interrupted him, once, twice, thrice he flinched under the sharp whacking sounds ringing off the back of his head, his eyes crossed then rolled up into the back of his head and he fell limp on top of her. "C'mon get up! We need you!" cried Gertrude clutching a dented truncheon made tacky by blood and bits of scalp stuck to it offering her a hand, the brawny forge assistant looked scared out of her wits but she pivoted flawlessly and lashed out breaking her weapon over a passing norscans head without missing a beat. "On your feet and for the love of Ulric take this bastard thing!" she cried shoving the ball into Jessik's hands. "Help the kislavite!" growled Jessik in a ragged voice tucking the ball in the crook of her arm. Gertrude nodded and set off. Breaking into a run again, Jessik aimed herself for the norscans end zone. There was no defense to speak of, it was in fact the sloppiest pitch she had ever seen, the Hornettes were completely unconcerned with any tactics besides avoiding being caught and the norscans seemed utterly unconcerned with the ball preferring rather the far more stimulating time honored pastime of woman catching. Still, if she could score a touchdown the rapidly promoted ref standing in for the one that was melted onto the sidelines would blow his whistle and end the round. "Blitz!" she screamed racing for the end zone as fast as her feet would carry her...Victoria took a breath; it was the deepest most painful breath she had ever taken in her life. Bones that had bent in entirely unnatural ways began to spring back to their rightful places. Flesh that had stretched rather than ripped and organs that had squished rather than ruptured all also did their best to resituate themselves. She vomited blood then laughed a wheezy croaking sound. She was stuck to the gargantuan norscan brute's chest, smashed to it in fact and to make matters even worse one of the spikes on his belt had done a rather marvelous job of impaling her. "Look at that, Jim! It looks like that big guy down there is making a new fashion statement!" cried the commentators. "Absolutely, Bob, it certainly lends a brand new meaning to decorative spikes! Hold on, hold on, Bob, it looks like she's actually still alive!" "Well duh, Jim, a good spike decoration needs to be wiggling at least a little bit, when they stop moving that's when you know it's time to get a new one! Say, all this carnage is making me hungry; in fact, I think I'm having a Big Moot Attack! Who could possibly resist the aroma of those three all-meat patties, Hot Pot sauce, lettuce, cheese, onions and pickles on a caraway seed bun? So, if you're feeling hungry head on down to the concessions because you know what they say, "If you gotta eat, it's gotta be McMurty's!" "Nice product placement Bob!" "Thanks Jim!"Victoria, drooling blood, still wheezing and laughing pulled herself off of the spike and out of the grooves in the brute's armor. Ignoring his look of shock, she pulled herself up and over his shoulder before he could make a grab for her. His one remaining handler made a swipe at her but she rooted her fingers in the brute's long hair and yanked causing him to snarl and veer to the side causing the handler's blows to strike the brute instead. "Here goes nothin!" lisped Victoria around a mouthful of blood. Jamming her claw sharp nail into the crude padlock keeping the norscans collar and chains in place she twisted until the clunky tumblers clicked free. He stopped dead in his tracks as the fetters fell away, the abrupt cessation of movement almost dislodged Victoria where she clung to his tangled mane of greasy black hair. Staring at them laying at his feet, he began to laugh a deep tectonic grinding sound that rose up from his barrel chest and terminated behind his clenched and bared teeth. Then his skin began to split. Victoria plummeted the not insubstantial distance down to the hard ground still holding a strip of bleeding scalp by a handful of hair. Looking up at the towering figure above her, she watched with mounting horror as he grew. He stretched within himself, his skin split, stretched further with a nauseating wet ripping sound and burst, freeing the blood drenched lupine beast clad in the ragged stripes of his former skin with an almighty howl of primal rage. "Skinwalker! Skinwalker, Jim! Look at that! Did you see how he tore his way right out of his own skin? Amazing spectacle is what that is!" "Right you are, Bob! Norscan teams often keep skinwolves or ulfwerner, as they're called in their native tongue handy to provide a little extra mayhem to the game, though it should be noted it is best to keep them pointed at the opposition as they have a nasty habit of attacking whatever happens to be in front of them. There he goes!" Victoria squealed as the ravening beast gave itself a shake splattering blood and bits of skin everywhere before turning and rendering its last gawping handler into a pile of unrecognizable guts in a frenzy of slashing claws and snapping teeth. Throwing its long muzzle skywards it howled and then bolted gutting three unlucky norscans who crossed its path, flattened a screaming Hornette as a stepping-stone and vaulted into the stands. Its spectacularly violent flight through the crowds on its way up and over the bleachers and subsequent escape into Nuln was so fantastically grotesque the camra-men put it on the jumbo orb for an instant replay. Picking herself up on shaky legs Victoria clutched the hole in her belly and grimaced at the feel of a thin fleshy film that had covered the hole and stopped the bleeding. She tried to snort a laugh but only managed to blow an undignified blood bubble out of her nostril. Today was proving to be a learning experience over her own mutated limits it seemed.A scream caught her notice. The drooling ogre was still pursuing Natalya, just as she had suspected it had homed in on her scent and was showing no signs of stopping until it had her in its humongous bouncing gut. "Hang on, I'm coming!" she tried to shout, it came out more as a tired wheeze but either by luck or design the panicking kislavite swerved towards her. There were people on the ogres back, Captain Shayna and Gertrude, they were pummeling its head so viciously its bald pate was now home to a veritable forest of bleeding lumps but there was simply no way they could strike hard enough for the creatures tiny brain to register the blows. "You leetle beetches do this to Natalya! You leetle beetches make dis happen! Vhy dis happenink to meeee!" she shrieked when the ogre reached out and caught her by her long braided hair and lifted her off her feet. For a woman so large she screamed like a child as she was brought up to the monsters gaping toothy maw. Victoria pounced, slashed Natalya's long auburn braid with her hidden dagger sparing her from a horrible demise and clung to the ogre's copper gut plate. "Jump off!" she shouted to the Captain and Gertrude on its back. "What about you?" cried Shayna. "Jump off now!" shrieked Victoria digging her heels into the monsters grubby flesh to keep from falling off. "ME HUNGRY!" bellowed the monster slapping at her with a fist the size of an ale barrel. "Eat this then!" she cried withdrawing her secret weapon from under her crumpled shoulder pad. It was a little dented from her crushing earlier but still felt sound and appropriately heavy in her grasp. Nuln was famous for its gunpowder and fireworks, fireworks they gave out for free during holidays. Sure they were mostly just noisemakers, small firecrackers and the like but when emptied into a metal tea canister by the hundreds and given one of those marvelous friction activated wicks the engineers like Misha could not stop congratulating themselves over, it was sure to be a bit more impressive.Scraping the wick on the ogre's gut-plate starting it to bright noising life, she hurled it straight into the creature's masticating mouth and let go. Never a creature to refuse any sort of free food the ogre gulped it down and grinned. There was a muted bang and its back blew out with an enormous welter of gore. Its head shot off flying into the air leaving a spinning helix smoke trail before coming down somewhere in the cheering crowd. Fire and smoke erupting like a volcano from its neck spewed into the air but the ogre's corpse refused to fall, muscle and bone locked up proving even without a head and much of its rear an ogre could indeed be too stupid to pitch over dead. Victoria was again deafened, she could hear the commentators rambling on in a high state of excitement but she could not understand anything over the ringing and roaring in her ears. "Touch down! Touch down! Daruk takes the game point! That's game folks! That's Game, Hornettes win!" cried a voice waking Owen where he lay sprawled up to his nose in filthy water. Sitting up with a lung rattling gasp he swiped gunk from his eyes with both hands and sat up, casting about desperately for any sign of Misha. He was in fact lying on top of her. He screamed and yanked her bodily out of the water and dragged her for the walkway. She groaned and sat up, turned her head, spat and sprang to her feet. "It worked! Sigmar's sake, how are we still alive?" she shouted, like him partially deafened by the blast. Owen offered her a sheepish smile and spread his hands. "I uh...I was afraid something like this would happen so I spent all of last night preparing a ward for just such an occasion." "You marvelous little firecracker!" laughed Misha pumping her fist with a victorious cry. "It wasn't really anything I just-" she seized him by his front and planted a kiss right on his mouth that sent him staggering backwards into the water again. "C'mon we must rejoin our comrades!" she shouted waving him on and up out of the hole they had blasted in the sewer. Jessik spiked the ball and turned to look at the pitch behind her as the crowd roared so loudly she could feel it vibrating the very air around her. Four norscans and an ogre were dead in their dugout, the other ogre, headless and now burning like a torch stood midfield, yet more norscans lay in several pieces elsewhere and another was simply gone leaving two of the brutes left. They were scattered and quickly swallowed up by vengeful truncheon wielding Hornettes. More than one black and yellow striped corpse lay still on the field but to her stupefied amazement, she saw Victoria alive and well comforting a weeping kislavite by the sidelines. More yet she saw Owen and Misha clamber out of the smoking hole in the center of the field. Tears pricked her eyes as joy fierce and hot welled up around her heart. Throwing her head back, she thrust her fist in the air and howled, exulting in the flash of the camra's and the cheering crowd. "That ladies and gentlemen is the Powder Keg Cup! This has got to be one of the shortest matches ever Bob! One round only, can you believe it?" "It sure seems like the Hornettes had more than enough sting to lay waste to the whole opposition Jim, but what will the fans think about being deprived of Blood Bowl so early in the evening?!" Jessik shook her head at the commentator's box, short or not she was just glad it was over. Taking a step forward she felt her vision wobble drastically bringing her to an unsteady stop. Then she felt a very curious sensation in her middle, looking down at herself she noticed a wide bleeding gash on her side and what appeared to be some of her guts trying to slip out. "Ah," she said recalling the brutal tackle she had taken earlier and all the spikes and blades the man had on his armor. Nodding to herself she sighed, her friends were alive and the game was over, that was good enough. She toppled backwards and the world went black......


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basler2 Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2021  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the lightning fast response and for having me.
quadee365 Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for accepting me. I hope you enjoy my stories! I'd love to hear any and all feedback!
Martechi Featured By Owner Aug 30, 2018  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you very much for the add! 
marinaizarne Featured By Owner Aug 17, 2017  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I have a comic with daemonettes (bonus tits). I dont know it should go in comic o nsfw XDD
RecklessCharge Featured By Owner Sep 19, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Comics is fine x3 sorry for the late reply!
marinaizarne Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2017  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Dont worry. :D
I posted it in NSFW XD
SlaaneshG Featured By Owner Sep 18, 2016  Professional Digital Artist
Kirriban at 4000k! Good luck! 

Mature Content

Santinel by SlaaneshG
RecklessCharge Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
I'm unfamiliar with what exactly a kirriban is, haha! But she's a welcome heretic all the same xD
SlaaneshG Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2016  Professional Digital Artist
-Kiriban it's a free art for person, who will be 4000k pagewiever my page 
RecklessCharge Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Ahh I see, thank you for clarifying :)
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