The Eagle Standard Lack of Concentration Camp

[Hex Khan]

The world has changed,
I feel it in the water,
I feel it in the earth,
I smell it in the air,
Much that once was is lost,
For none now live who remember it.

It began with the forging of the Great Rings,
Three Rings were given to the Elves,
Immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings,
Seven to the Dwarf Lords,
Great Miners and Craftsmen of the Mountain Halls,
And nine, nine Rings gifted to the Race of Men,
Who above all else desired power.

-* Ah crap wrong script*-
*Lets try that again*

Total War Center has changed,
I feel it in the Curia,
I feel it in the Forums,
I smell it in the Threads,
Much that once was is lost,
For none now live who remember it.

It began with the forging of the Great Moderators,
Three Moderators were given to the Rome Total War Fans,
Ancient, cunning and fairest of all beings,
Seven to the Medieval Total War Lords,
Great Players and craftsmen of the Magnificent Mods,
And nine, nine Moderators gifted to the Common Community,
Who above all else desired to Spam "Alexander vs Caesar" topics.
For within these Moderators was bound the strength and will to govern each Thread.

But they were all of them deceived,
For another Moderator was made,
In the Land of Spamore,
In the fires of Mount Troll,
The Dark Lord Selenius forged in secret a Master Moderator,
To control all others,
And into this Moderator he poured his cruelty,
His malice,
And his will to dominate all life,
One Moderator to PWN Them All.

One by one the Free Threads of Total War Center fell to power of Moderator,
But there was some who resisted,
A last Alliance of Citizens and Patricians,
Marched against the Armies of Spamore,
And on the slopes of Mount Troll,
They fought for the freedom of Total War Center.

Victory was near,
But the power of the Moderator,
Could not be undone,
It was in the moment,
When all hope had faded,
That Bulgaroctonus, Son of the King,
Took up his Father’s sword…

Selenius, the enemy of the Free Peoples of Total War Center,
was defeated,
The Moderator then passed to Bulgaroctonus,
Who had the one chance to destroy evil forever,
But the hearts of Men are easily corrupted,
And the Moderator of PWN has a will of its own.

It betrayed Bulgaroctonus,
To his death,
And somethings that should not be forgotten,
Were Lost,
History became Legend,
Legend became Myth,
And for two hand a half thousand years,
The Moderator passed out of all knowledge.

Until chance came,
It ensnared a new bearer.
The Moderator came to the creature Hex,
Who took it deep into the tunnels of the misty mountains(Bennachie Aberdeenshire),
And there it consumed Him,
The Moderator brought to Hex,
Unnatural long life,
For 500 years it poisoned his mind.
And in the gloom in Hex’s cave,
It waited.

Darkness crept back into the forests of the world,
Rumour grew of a shadow in the East,
Whispers of a Nameless Fear,
And the Moderator of PWN perceived,
Its time had now come,
It abandoned Hex,

But something happened the Moderator did not intend,
It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable,
A Content Staffer,
Sir Dinadan of the Legion of Rahl,
For the time would soon come,
when Content Staffers will shape the fortunes of all.

Will they really? Not if the evil Selenius has anything to do with it!

So end is really nigh, The Eagle Standard has its own shiny new Blog to record the crazy nonesense we madmen get up to in our hidden halls in the content forum. Rest assured however, with me in control it wont remain very shiny for long!

You can expect to read alot more of this sort of shenanigans, as I continue to write up fictitious stories and who knows some of the others might just join in! The possibilities are endless!

Well not really endless, they either will or wont its that simple

[Hex Khan]

... regarding the ES but at least it was written by me.

Sorry for the lack of going ons here, I had many a great plan for this, however the most evil of evils has possessed me...

no not lazyness how could you say such a thing? You're all rather quite heartless...

No instead its far worse and some of the creative writers here in TWC might just understand, the dreaded and most nefarious

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Writers Block!!!

So not much is really going on in the world of Khan, so instead, all I can resolve is to copy and paste some of my old personal ficition, because I'd rather give you something to read as opposed to nothing at all, because that would just be plain dreadful now wouldnt it?

So here the breif overview, Its a very old piece I found lurking on my PC from the time I used to be a 40K fanboy, (Warhammer 40'000, just incase you didnt get the abbrevation) And I recently descovered it and decided to add more to it and now heres the excerpt. *prays to the Immortal God-Emperor of Man for remission of the sin he is to commit*

Azrael turned to face the river only to see in the corner of his eye something flying at him “Incoming!” he cried into the live audio feed in his plumed helmet, instinctively dropping to the ground narrowly avoiding the missile as it whizzed by, Marshal Mar narrowly avoid the missile by swiftly turning away as it exploded against a pillar feet away collapsing a wall revealing thirty more alarmed Space Marines.
“For the Emperor!” Azrael roared throwing himself to his feet, running at full pace.
Marshal Mar ordered his Space Marines to move up and take positions along the banks of the river.
The defensive bolters revved to life once more and began spraying thousands of rounds into the oncoming horde of crazed zealots and fanatical cultists. Azrael pulled out his bolt pistol and rattled off several rounds before drawing forth his ancient power sword, Drustan.
Every bullet he fired felled one heretic, he was within contact distance with the forces of Chaos as their lasguns began to connect with his power armour, he was confident his armour would hold for his faith was strong.
The lasers from the lasguns chipped his painted armour, denting the fine craftsmanship of the Tech Marines. Lasers continued to whistle past him, more shots found their marks but lacked strength enough to damage him beyond tearing his paint and singeing his plumed helmet. Azrael had cleared half the length of the bridge before he received his covering fire.
Marshal Mar and his fellow marines began to rain the Emperor’s ire upon the unclean heretics in the form of heavy bolter fire and the cleansing burn of plasma guns.
“Suffer not the unclean to live!” Sang out across the live audio communication systems as several tactical drop pods fell out of the sky, five in total. As the drop pods made contact the earth the ground gave way with a tremendous series of tremors, the pods opened to the cry of, “Purge the Heretic!” Two Venerable-Brothers clad in Tactical Dreadnought Armour lumbered out providing precise and accurate covering fire with their multi barrelled Assault Cannons. Three Marines accompanied the Terminators armed with bolters and chainswords.
“Well met Brother Azrael! Brother Promenus, Andreas and Scipio shall aid you, Brother Menion and I shall hold the bridgehead. May the Emperor protect you in your honourable endeavour.” The senior of the two Terminators spoke. Azrael and his three brothers lunged into the swarm of the warped shells of men, easily overwhelming them in spite of being vastly outnumbered at least twenty to one.
These odds were possible because Space Marines were genetically modified super soldiers towering over most men in height, strength and mental endurance because of this the Adeptus Astartes or Space Marines were vastly superior to any man, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists Chapter, Rogal Dorn, once said "Give me a hundred Space Marines. Or failing that, give me a thousand other troops", a testament to the greatness of the Adeptus Astartes, Azrael and his companions were now enforcing that.
Amongst the slaughter of the unclean heretics Marshal Mar’s voice could be heard over the intercoms, “Brothers beware the Heretic! Recent satellite imaging shows foul Daemons among their ranks!” just as Mar’s report ceased the ground trembled; a foul stench filled the air, moments latter it all ceased. Only to have the world around them torn by warp portals in the ground, in air and on the walls, a great many of the Daemon host emerged from the Warp.
Azrael and his companions fought all the harder, however the heretical Cultists they could easily overcome and overwhelm in turn however the Daemon is not so easily defeated, faster, tougher and stronger they were, a threat even to the Space Marines.
“Taking damage!” Scipio cried across the airwaves.
“There are too many!” Andreas roared as he emptied yet another bolter clip.
“Our faith holds us Brothers, the Emperor will not forsake us!” Azrael reminded his companions.
“Brothers my Boltgun is empty.” Promenus warned, Azrael turned to him and was about to extend his own bolt pistol when something whispered to him, “And they shall know no fear, for they are fear incarnate.” It was gentle yet quite feminine voice in the corner of his mind. Azrael passed his bolt pistol to Brother Promenus.
“Are you alright my Brother?” Promenus asked.
“Yes I shall persevere.” Azrael retorted with a shake of his head trying to remain focused and sharp.
“They are upon us!” Scipio yelled as he levelled his boltgun and promptly opened fire into the oncoming horde of daemons and cultists.

Time and time again Azrael and his Battle-Brothers Promenus, Scipio and Andreas repulsed the flooding attacks of the tainted horde of Chaos. However with all rounds spent it was now a matter of bloody hand-to-hand combat something Azrael excelled at with his great ancient power sword, Drustan which could cut swathes through the tide of Daemons and Men with ease, however the others were not was well inclined or drilled as Azrael and it was beginning to show as wounds began to mount on the Space Marines.
“Brother Pergus, Brother Menion, aid us!” Azrael ordered of the two Terminators.
“Affirmative,” Brother Pergus retorted as the two strode with purpose into the great crescent of slaughter.
Scipio revved his chainsword before bringing it down hard upon the skull of a hapless Cultist, the Cultist’s hair, bloody tissue, and skull and brain substance sprayed across the golden two headed imperial eagle crest on Scipio’s chest. Scipio exhaled before being impaled upon a lance wicked in appearance, it was grasped firmly by a freakishly mutated three headed warp possessed cultist with muscles so large they tore through his skin, it hissed lowly at Scipio.
Scipio wreathed on the end of the lance before snapping the lance shaft with his powerful hands. Clutching his wound he strode forward dragging his chainsword across the ground, it hissed as it dug up asphalt it really hungered to spill the impure blood of this wretched mutant as did Scipio.
The mutant roared before flinging itself at Scipio, Scipio himself leapt back gaining momentum before lunging forward, Scipio’s chainsword roared as it tore the mutant from knee to neck in a violent swing of blood and gore. Inwardly Scipio grinned before falling.
“Scipio has fallen!” Andreas cried.
Andreas parried aside a weak stab by a another Cultist before driving his chainsword home into his foe’s stomach, the Cultist gasp and groaned as he tried to haul his escaping innards back into the wound all in vain as his wretched and damned soul was sent moaning back to what ever excuse for a divine being he worshipped.
Scipio tried to pull himself to his feet but his legs kept giving way, he groaned as he managed to roll over onto his chest, he could see his comrades fighting hard against the hordes, to his horror he saw a highly decorated cultist clad is silks of pink, purple, blacks and rich reds ascend into the air, horror filled Scipio’s heart.
“Brothers beware! They summon a G-Greater Daemon upon us!”
Scipio’s warning was all too late…