Bungo the Barbarian, Chapter 22 - Crunchy Confectionery that Kills!

 

Chapter 22 - Crunchy Confectionery that Kills

 

Janboe leapt from Wendy’s back; sailing through the air like a diminutive suicidal comet plunging into the sun. His drop from the colossal bovine beast’s back had been considerable, and he hit the floor with a resounding thump; finally arresting his rolling momentum by going headfirst through a display stand for alchemical components. He had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the angry horde of Butt-Goblin head-hunters that were swarming through the gap where the wall had once been before he slipped into unconsciousness.

……………………..

“Eat my biscuits!” Bellowed Bungo; the throaty roar eliciting both terror and confusion from his adversaries as he jammed a fistful of crunchy confectionery down the throat of his would be attacker. He followed this unconventional attack with a swift kick that sent the unfortunate creature spiralling back down the home-baking aisle; before crashing headlong into a gang of charging Butt-Goblins.

 

Choking and spluttering in dazed confusion; the bruised beasts didn’t even have time to draw breath before Bungo was amongst them. The world seemed to go into slow motion as Bungo’s mighty fist collided with a goblin’s unprepared face. There was a sickening crunch as its cranium imploded and the goblin’s brain burst from the back of his head and splatted wetly on the opposite wall like a damp ball of snot. The whole scene was lent an air of both hilarity and depravity when to the horror of the onlooking goblins, the brain-ball oozed its way onto the already roaring grill of a display barbecue and burst into flames.

 

The finest warriors of Turdmondaz turned tail and fled in abject horror; their simian brains entirely unprepared for the heroic might of the unshackled barbarian. Unwilling to give up so easily, Bungo grabbed a straggler and drove him buttocks first into his armoured crotch-plate; splattering the poor creature into a grotesque chunky-cheese-omelette of death.

 

“Excelsior!” The barbarian leapt atop a potion display stand; gyrating menacingly at the remaining miscreants as they scampered out the door of the Adventure Mart. They looked back in terror, only to see Bungo as he pointed towards the barbecue again and rubbed his herculean six-pack hungrily. It wasn’t until he started to motion the next phase of their potential trip through his small intestine that several more goblins died of sheer terror.

 

Suddenly, all went quiet. Even the Butt-Goblin that had been dying a slow death choking on biscuity crumbs was suddenly dumbstruck in mute awe as a colossal dark shadow fell across the otherwise well-lit adventure mart.

 

“The … the champion of…of … Turdmondaz” The creature rasped the words with its last ragged breath, dying with a smile on its twisted lips.

 

“I challenge you” the voice that issued forth from the shadow was strong, yet clear and held with it the power of wisdom and certain victory. Bungo looked up towards the door which swung inwards perfectly on cue; revealing the colossally armoured form of his new adversary silhouetted against the light of the setting sun.

Escher Gang

I haven't been working on my gang a lot lately, but I found a few photos of them that I hadn't posted. I made it to 7 finished gangers, so it really wouldn't take much to see them completely finished and ready to be fielded in all their painted glory.

Looking at them now really makes me want to work on them though - I think it's the old 90s Warhammer throwbacks like the red guns, hazard stripes and migraine bright hues! Did you spot the 2 original metal gangers in there?

I also did a piece of fiction to start the campaign:

He was now known as Bilge Master 4. It hadn’t always been that way, but an unfortunate encounter with a stray las blast had destroyed half of his cranium; melting away most of his sense with it. At that time several years in the past, he was called Korruk of Clan Goliath. His stricken body had been dragged to a doctor who had done their best to rebuild him with the only parts available. Unfortunately for poor Korruk, these parts had been hastily scavenged from the computer core of a sewage skiff and the programming was never fully wiped; leaving him with an identity crisis of sorts.

“Cleanse and sterilize!” As usual, the battle cant made little sense as the steely words left Korruk’s lips in a toneless boom.  He let fly with his stub-cannon into the darkness; lighting up the under-deck for a moment in the brilliant light of the muzzle flare. Somewhere in the distance there was a momentary sound of panic that soon grew still again.

Korruk had been patrolling the lower decks of the Brawndo production plant for several months after the Bennett Brothers had relegated him to a distant support duty. In truth, his delusions and obvious brain damage had made him a liability to the rest of his crew. For his part, it seemed that the newly self-coronated Bilge Master 4 was a lot happier wandering the tunnels aimlessly in a hallucinatory stupor.

Another noise issued forth from the darkness; it was closer this time. Bilge Master 4 cocked his weapon in readiness; just in time to see a huge rat bristle forth into the flickering halo of a wall mounted illuminator. The hideous beast skittered a few steps forward on misshapen legs. Its pudgy bulk reared up; sniffing the air as it moved. It seemed to realise that it was not alone, but it didn’t have enough time to put that knowledge into action; Korruk had already pulled the trigger. The dull, hollow bang of the weapon echoed through the maze-like structure as the rat’s body burst open in a wet puff of filthy viscera.

“Cleanse and sterilize.” Korruk repeated the words emotionlessly as he took a lumbering step towards the fresh kill. “Initiate docking protocol.” He reloaded the gun; a string of drool hanging from his mutilated lip.

……...............................................

“The plan is simple; that goon thinks he’s some kind of sewage processing plant. So all we have to do is flush.” The end of the sentence was punctuated by a wet popping noise as Tabby’s bubble gum burst. The Tabby Cats were in their den; the gang had managed to get some meagre digs in Bunk Town, but the room was packed to bursting as the Escher crew squeezed around a sector map that seemed to have been etched in crayon and splashes of hair dye.

“Care to explain that one boss?” The Juve received a quick slap to the back of her head for her audacity from one of the older gangers.

“We run around town flushing everything in sight right down on his head. He gets confused, and we slip by into Clan territory unnoticed … hurr hurr hurr.” Despite her slight stature, Tabby’s laugh was deep and goonish like a drunken Ogryn in heat. She had quite the complex about it too, and she shot a warning glare at the few who dared smirk at the simian sound she was making.

The dawn of battle would be trumpeted a few hours later by the sound of several dozen toilets ringing in unison.

Zombie Blade 1 - Blood Spatter on the Criminal Negligence of Yesterday

“Looks like we got us a Mexican standoff.” The man known only as Bamburerro Blade grunted the words in a dry gravelly voice that brought to mind the scrape of an undertaker’s shove digging a fresh grave.

The tavern was abandoned; a trashed broken ruin of splintered wood. He stood in the centre of the dilapidated space, cowelled in a long traveller’s poncho and wide brimmed hat; surrounded on three sides by a groaning and shuffling throng of the recently dear and departed. Somewhat less dear now that that had been reanimated by the same foul alien brain cheggers that had infested the populous.

Bamburerro Blade made a slow movement with his left hand; pulling the poncho back to access his shirt pocket. He was reaching for something, and a few of the zombies reacted; turning to regard the interloper with increased interest. After fiddling around for a moment, his hand emerged from the pocket gripping a fresh cigarillo. He flicked the cigarillo into his mouth and slowly started reaching for a match in another pocket.

Enraged by the blatant disregard he was showing them, a zombie leapt forwards towards the lone wanderer; but it caught nothing but air in its grizzled fleshless hands.

What unfolded next was too fast for normal human eyes to catch. Bamburerro’s poncho took flight as he threw it into the air above him. Freed from its constraints, his right hand went into action; drawing an ornate 3 barrelled pistol from a holster across his body. With a flash of light, the weapon discharged; exploding his first opponent’s cranium in a hefty burst of stringy alien mucus.

In that instant, the other undead beasts turned on him; and a wall of festering corpse warriors closed around him. Bamburerro pulled a second pistol; instantly squeezing off another round into the chest of a particularly large lifeless monster. The mass reactive shell exploded outwards; leaving its torso an eviscerated mess on the other side of the room from its legs. He spun his body, moving low beneath the tide and taking out 3 more before they even realised he wasn’t in the poncho anymore as his gun discharged again.

 

 

Outside of the OK Saloon, a crowd of terrified farm-folk gathered together wielding pitch-forks and improvised scatterguns. They trembled with fright; staring with horrified rapture as the windows of the wrecked establishment flashed rhythmically in time to the sound gunfire.

It suddenly went quiet. One minute turned into two, and then into three. Still nothing but silence.

A restless murmur passed through the crowd.

“Never should’a hired that cloaked idiot” Mayor Burrows griped a little too audibly; his overgrown moustache wabbled comically in time to the words. “I gave him half the money upfront too! And now somebody is gonna have to go in there to get the money back…”. He looked around for a volunteer, his beady eyes finally settling on the least favourite of his seven daughters. Just as he was about to try to coax her into the death-trap, the saloon door was flung open from the inside.

“I reckon I’ll be taking the rest o’ that money now Mayor” Bamburerro’s low rusty voice was clearly audible as he strode through the threshold; accompanied by the sound of spurs clattering on the hard wood floor. He dumped a handful of zombified heads in front of the bumbling statesman; earning both cheers of celebration and gasps of horror from the gathered crowd of citizens.

“About that” started the mayor, shifting nervously from foot to foot. His jowly face beaded with sweat; obviously gleaming on his rapidly paling visage in the dim light of dusk.

“I don’t really have the money, I didn’t…” he stopped, swallowing loudly “…actually expect you to come back.” An idiotic grin crept across the mayor’s face.

Bamburerro’s eyes narrowed; his dry lips split and his voice was icy cold “Hiring a bounty hunter without the money to pay is against the law”. The statement hung in the air like a dead-man’s curse. There was complete silence; the villagers not daring to even breathe as the deadly tension built.

Mayor Burrows went red in the face, at once threatened and affronted by the hunter.

“Whose law? I am the Mayor!” He stomped his feet at the declaration.

Bamburerro’s poncho flew into the air.

“My law.”

The mayor’s last sight was the shinning triple barrels mere inches from his face. He never saw the finger that pulled the trigger, or his crumpled bloody remains that were left where they fell in the street for the crows.

 

 

 

 

Bungo the Barbarian, Chapter 21 - Adventure Mart Upstart

 

Not far from the beach, Bungo and Shallica had stumbled across a strange hut seemingly at the entrance to Turdmondaz. The weary travellers’ alarm had soon changed to amusement when they realised that it was one of many chain stores that were always placed handily right in front of all major dungeons. The sparkling neon lettering emblazoned above the threshold proudly read “Adventure Mart” in bold capital letters. In their exhausted state, the building had an almost unquantifiable draw; an oasis of sorts for travellers.

 

As they approached, the magically enchanted doors opened by themselves and beckoned them in. The interior was bright and clean; with soothing music being played by a tiny harp playing fairelf from somewhere nearby. Needless to say, Bungo had already ruined the cultivated calm of the retail environment by traipsing a large quantity of beach sand in with him. His arrival was also punctuated by a loud bang as he knocked a stack of shoddy discount wands on the ground. They rolled across the floor in a clatter of soon to be broken twigs as Bungo’s oversized boot carelessly ground them into the carefully applied linoleum.

 

“Welcome to Adventure Mart, can I take your order?” A nervous looking shop goblin shuffled round the front counter. He looked at Bungo expectantly with shining eyes; ushering him towards a shelved area where an eclectic selection of goods were displayed. Bungo’s attention was soon caught by an oddly bulbous vial filled with a bubbling red liquid. He eyed the item with suspicion; picking it up in one oversized hand and sniffing it incredulously.

 

“I see you have a keen sense of self-preservation. Our life potions are guaranteed to keep you fighting fit for longer, with their patented dual-guard action.”

 

The salesman continued enthusiastically; sensing a potential sale in the making.

 

“For only 3 more Chromes you could upgrade to the latest edition; Health-Up Diamond Magnum. Its special whitening formula really does wonders to restore your natural lustre.”

 

Shallica’s eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly with concern. Bungo uncorked the concoction; wafting the unfettered potion under his nose.

 

“This is just grape juice.” The barbarian rumbled the words quizzically, before sticking his finger down the glass bottle to taste the mixture. His massive digit stuck fast in the finely turned ornate bottleneck. He struggled for a moment, before trying to nonchalantly move the item out of eyesight of the shop-clerk while feigning interest in another product. A short while later, the sound of broken glass could be heard from nowhere in particular; followed by some tuneless whistling.

 

A bead of nervous sweat ran down the shopkeeper’s brow, and he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot trying to think of something to say. A moment passed in silence, until he followed Bungo’s disinterested gaze to the clothing aisle, and he took the opportunity to move towards products that weren’t so fragile.

 

“Maybe you’d be interested in these hand-knitted Derpo-pants. They were a limited run” he paused mid-sentence “or at least we haven’t had a shipment for quite some time. Their sporty design really gives great air flow”. He held up the threadbare fatigues gingerly; trying to position them to avoid the wide yellow-brown stain that was spattered across the crotch. Shallica made a muffled gagging sound as she threw up a little bit in her throat.

 

“Go on, give them a try”. The clerk held up the item; wafting it towards Bungo and Shallica seductively. His only reply was a sharp horrified screech from Shallica that cut the organised calm of the shop like a knife, followed by a loud bang as she scrambled to hide under a nearby table. The she-demon’s hissing face appeared from under the tablecloth a moment later; snarling like a feral feline surrounded by wolves.

 

“Maybe not” rumbled Bungo, swaggering further down the aisle. He stopped briefly to inspect a murky green jar that was labelled with the words “Pickled Hero Sausage”. As he stared, several meaty objects loomed out of the slimy depths; accompanied by what appeared to be a reptilian eye and some shoelaces. Bungo grunted approvingly before stuffing the item down the front of his leather pants and walking on.

 

The shop clerk was oblivious to Bungo’s banditry, as he had spent the last few minutes trying to coax Shallica out from her hiding spot with little success. Resigned to the fact that she was unlikely to come out any time soon, and with a face covered in spittle for his trouble, the clerk turned back towards Bungo; only to see him staring out the shop window with an intense look on his face.

 

“Something’s coming”. The words had gravity to them, and almost as if on the command of some strange magic, an ominous rumbling sound could be heard approaching steadily.

 

The noise seemed to build to a vibrating crescendo as it got closer, and the whole Adventure Mart started to shake. Several potions were dislodged from the shelves by the din; intermixing the heady stench of strange spices and grape juice into the sensory overload. As the volume increased a multitude of jabbering screeching voices could be heard.

 

“It’s here!” Bungo sounded unusually excited; his deep baritone was barely audible over the din. A heart beat later, the wooden shop wall exploded in a shower of splintered wood as a colossal steed broke through carrying a small terrified figure on its back. They skidded to a stop in the store; followed by a swarm of angry raging butt-goblins with weapons bared.

Bungo the Barbarian, Chapter 20 – Between Delusion and a Hard Place

Shallica, can you hear me?” Bungo’s rich baritone voice seemed oddly distant to the she-demon. Teetering on the verge of consciousness; she began to feel an odd sensation. She could feel herself being lifted from the ground in Bungo’s powerful arms. Shallica squealed inwardly with delight at the sensation; her lofty thoughts of their love and daydreams about the wedding ceremony were shattered moments later when the embrace turned into a colossal burping as Bungo bounced her on his shoulder. The mood was well and truly ruined when she coughed up a pint of tepid seawater down Bungo’s chiselled back, and he plunked her down on her feet unceremoniously.

 

The oafsome barbarian resolved into focus as Shallica drearily opened her eyes. He was leaning over her with a look of concern; and more importantly he wasn’t wearing a chamber pot helmet on his head for the first time in weeks. They seemed to have washed up on some type of beach, but there was no sign of their ship, or any wreckage to speak of.

 

“What happened, anyway?” The barbarian seemed even more clueless than usual. “The last thing I remember I was sitting down to a nice dinner and some bunk swill. There was a storm, and…”

 

“Bungo?” Shallica’s eyes filled with tears and she threw her arms around him; although at him might have been a more apt description of the motion as the barbarian’s girth was so great that she could barely reach across his herculean chest with both arms fully outstretched.

 

“You’ve come back to your senses!”

 

The conversation that followed lasted some time, as Shallica had to explain every event since Bungo had been bludgeoned into senselessness. She left out a few of the details about how he had been calling himself “Donglore”, and she thought that he would rather not know that he had been wearing a chamber pot on his head. Despite her attempts to streamline the conversation, it took several hours as she laboriously explained simple concepts like “ship” and “mast”. Finally Bungo’s expression cleared in some dim facsimile of what most people would call understanding. A second later, his brow furrowed with confusion once again and his finger was poised; ready with a fresh question.

 

“Just one more thing…” the barbarian stroked his jaw thoughtfully for a moment before spinning around and pointing almost directly upwards at the colossal spires of Turdmundaz that spiralled off into the seemingly infinite sky only mere feet away from where the two of them were stood “What are we doing here?”

 

There was a short dumbfounded pause.

 

“You know what they do to you here…” Bungo had a feverish look about him as he spoke nervously. His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper “That!”

 

Shallica looked at him quizzically; her large amber eyes exploring Bungo’s oddly shaken visage with a new sense of interest. Taken in by his sudden change in demeanour, she lowered her voice and leaned closer to the panic stricken warrior, giving them the appearance of a pair of plotting thieves.

 

“What is … That!?” she whispered the last part rather loudly, as her enthusiasm ran wild. Bungo’s hand almost immediately came up and covered her mouth.

 

“Shhhh.” The barbarian’s eyes darted from side to side.

 

“Don’t say it, don’t even think it …. I’ll tell you, but only once, and we’ll never speak of it again”. Shallica’s delicate face bobbed up and down, still partially smothered by Bungo’s hand.

 

“I’ve been here before.” He began quietly.

 

“It was a long time ago, but I’ll never forget what I saw.” Shallica was already completely absorbed, and a little scared too.

 

“We were captured by them.” Bungo motioned to Turdmundaz “the Butt-Goblins!” His voice went strange and high pitched with the last word, adding a sense of eerie mysticism to the tale. Shallica jumped slightly.

 

“There was one man; young and strong. They took him into a cell. He was screaming, crying out for his mother after just seeing it. Then they made us watch while they ….” His voice was drowned out momentarily by a particularly large wave that crashed against the shore. Shallica couldn’t make out the words, but she could see Bungo go red in the face. His eyes bulged from their sockets and sweat ran in torrents from his forehead as he gesticulated wildly; his whirling arms seeming to form some type of repetitive plunging motion.

 

His muffled disposition continued until the sound of the waves began to grow quieter, and Bungo seemed to reach a crescendo. Finally his voice cleared.

 

“Until the handle broke off! And then they just pulled his pants up like it was nothing!” He stopped; wheezing, with a crazed look in his eyes.

 

“Like it was nothing!!” Bungo buried his head in the sea. The last declarations were drowned out gurgles as he continued his tirade underwater, but she could still make out that he was saying something about “that”.

 

Shallica just stood there shaking; left to imagine unknown horrors that would never be divulged.

 

 

 

Bungo the Barbarian, Chapter 19 - The Windy City

Turdmundaz was a castle-city like no other. In form, it resembled a colossal termite hive. Its spires soared high into the clouds; coiling away and back upon themselves into one massive tangled structure formed of a strange resinous secretion of its stygian inhabitants. It was said that on a warm day, the fetid stench that emanated from the towering dung-heap could reach to over 50 leagues away, and that was probably a conservative estimate. In fact, close proximity had been known to cause potentially fatal spontaneous nasal combustion is all but the hardiest of races.

 

Buttfuldore was surveying the sea from his lofty perch among the summit peaks of Turdmundaz. He enjoyed the view on balmy days when the warm salty breeze would add a certain delicate spice to the excreta. His normal lazy demeanour was broken when he saw a glint amongst the waves below.

 

“A ship?” His shrill cry cut the stagnant air like a knife.

 

Buttfuldore excitedly hurried over to the alarm trumpet. Pressing the sound piece between his cheeks; his buttocks erupted noisily down the tumorous instrument, eliciting a booming sound that reverberated and spattered through the catacombs below.

 

Running back to the window, he grabbed a spy glass and peered hungrily at the vessel below. The ship looked to be stricken; easy prey for the butt-goblin hordes. More odd than that, was that even from the lofty height he was viewing from, he could make out a large muscled figure on the prow of the ship, who appeared to be practicing some kind of martial arts movements with great speed and skill.

 

Buttfuldore’s excitement stuck in his sphincter like a half digested Hero Sausage.

 

“By the grace of the sewage lord… it couldn’t be…”

 

 

“Such a foul smell!” Bungo’s manly exclamation woke the whole ship as he bounded headlong from the cabin and landed firmly on deck.

 

“We must be surrounded by invisible enemies! Really stinky enemies!” Bungo delivered a brutal kick to nothing in particular, before back flipping across the ruined main sail and chopping the air with a grunt of exertion.

 

“Invisible butt-balls of Inferocropolis feel my wrath!” Bungo swirled his arms like a tornado; ducking and diving across the floor in a storm of roiling muscle.

 

“I’ll teach you to befoul the air around Donglore, Lord of the Underworld”. With this exclamation, Bungo appeared to deliver the coup d’grace, and he set to stomping his invisible adversaries with a rapid series of heavy boots.

 

By this point, the Excelsior’s crew had gathered in dumfounded silence; watching the bizarre spectacle unfold. It wasn’t until a large harpoon lanced through the deck that their attention was adverted from the delusional demi-god.

 

Sallica spun towards the new threat groggily; just in time to see a swarm of small shanty-ships speeding towards them. Like a shoal of hungry sharks, their filthy hulls were encircling the Excelsior. She could clearly see the profile of large harpoon guns mounted on the prows of several of the hulks.

 

Shallica barely had time to take cover as the sky blackened with a fresh barrage of harpoons. The oversized arrows sped through the air like hungry dragons in flight; before mercilessly slamming into the stricken Excelsior.

 

Seemingly oblivious to the assault, Bungo was standing his ground defiantly with his hands on his hips. He was just in the middle of gyrating his hips and slapping his crotch mockingly, when one of the spears found its mark. Like a thunderbolt from heaven, the oversized projectile pinged off of his chamber-pot helm and clattered to the ground. A moment later, the mighty Helmet of Donglore followed it; revealing a fierce case of helmet hair that Bungo had apparently been suffering with. He swayed unsteadily; staggering back towards the guard rail before toppling from the ship. He plunged into the murky depths moments later; swallowed into the filthy seas.

 

Without a word, Shallica followed after the stricken hero; diving wildly from the back of the ship. As she disappeared beneath the waves, she caught a final glimpse of the floundering Excelsior being boarded by swarms of dark goblinoid figures.

A Satirical Look at Eighth Edition

There comes a time when every man has to throw in his two cents on a topic that is as ground-breaking in the hobby world as a new edition of 40k. Unfortunately for my poor readers, I decided to consult the dark gods directly and obtained a vision from another dimension. A dimension where the biggest Chaos Marine around struggles to come to terms with his place in the new edition...

Chapter 1 - State of Contusion

 

Bignimuus rapped the slide of his big gun with an even bigger hand.

 

"8th Edition eh?" he rumbled. His oversized lips grinding together; turning the sentence into the distant rumble of an oversized ogre. His beady eyes glared down at the new starter set in front of him.

 

"These supposedly extra big marines look a little small to me..." he pressed down on one Primaris marine with a gargantuan thumb; reducing the plastic plaything to a slagged heap of contorted crappola with little effort.

 

"Fight back you cowards!" he roared, unloading a whole magazine from his engorged bolter into the gaming table. Time seemed to go into slow motion as devastated cardboard mixed with erupting wood and dismembered miniatures.

 

The stricken pieces fell to the ground in a shower of tinkling remnants. Bignimuus eyed his bolter excitedly; seeming to notice on some level that it was now capable of blasting through a Dreadnought's front armour. Perhaps there was more to this edition stuff than he had given it credit for.

 

Before long, the grim scene was disturbed by the graunching sound of active power armour as Titanicoor loomed through the doorway. His legs were so huge and over-muscled that he could barely walk, and his thigh plates ground together in a shower of unnecessary sparks as he entered the room. He was holding one of the new Death Guard miniatures cradled in his arms.

 

"Mighty brothers, you have been shrunken and frozen by some foul sorcery!". Titanicoor blubbered big stinky tears; looking down lovingly at the tiny bare plastic Plague Marine.

 

"By the dark gods!" Boomed Bignimuus "What has happened to our once proud brother!?".

 

Titanicoor's only reply was to hold out a freshly printed rulebook. The glossy paperback was dwarfed by Titanicoor's mailed hand. Bignimus snatched the proffered item hungrily; eyeing it with incredulity.

 

"This?!" he raged; flipping thought the pages.

 

"We'll see about that!"

 

Chapter 2 - Tabletop Tantrum

Bignimuus' narrowed eyes glared coldly into his opponent's sweaty visage. His hand moved slowly to his holster; and then carried on towards the tabletop. He shunted the blight drone forwards  a few inches and then ended his turn.

 

 

His opponent threw a hand full of dice, nervously joking about the quantity of plasma he was wielding and then declared victory. He then had the audacity to reach out tentatively to remove the Blight Drone from the table.

 

Bignimuus didn't like this game. With a spittle flinging roar, he ground the table underfoot and punched his opponent's head clean off his shoulders with a looping lariat. The poor man's headless body swung in the breeze for an agonising moment while the massive marauder took a bite out of the rulebook like it was a club-sandwich.

 

Titanicoor looked on miserably from the side-lines lamenting the loss of the once proud morale phase that they had previously used to cause lesser men turn tail and run, but that now apparently beamed terrified guardsmen off of the battlefield without spilling a drop of blood. It seemed too clean somehow.

 

"Would you stop blubbering!" Bignimuus screamed unnecessarily; sending a spray of half-digested paper into the air. Titanicoor was blowing his nose into an oversized hankie that just about managed to stop the seemingly never-ending stream of snot flowing from his front-grill.

 

"But the dreadnought can be killed by bolter fire now..." he whined in the deepest and most manly way possible.

 

"I will avenge your pain" Bignimuus rumbled; soon following up his declaration by making a ship-wide announcement.

 

"Warrior Brothers prepare for landfall; target, GW HQ Nottingham!"

 

Chapter 3 - Apocalypse How?

 

“Commandeer that Rhino!” Boomed Bignimuus, whilst whirling his chainsword above his head like some grim helicopter with roid rage.

 

Despite its seemingly traitorous colouring, this “Warhammer World” place seemed to be sporting a veritable arsenal of Imperial weaponry. Bignimuus climbed on board the unmanned vehicle; before promptly falling straight through the badly-finished MDF panelling up to his waist.

 

“By the dark gods!” he declared frothily, “They’ve been changing the rules again. Are Rhinos truly made of such flimsy-material in Eighth Edition?”

 

With no way to activate the replica transport, Bignimuus was left with only one option that made sense to his swollen mind.

 

“Brother Enormotank! Push me closer, I want to hit them with my sword!”

 

“Yeauuh, Bruutha!” the reply came across the vox network as a throaty growl, and within moments the bizarre battle group were underway; gouging huge ravines into the floor with the faux tank’s un-turning tracks.

 

Unexpectedly, but inevitably, their path was soon blocked by a banged up Ford Cortina.

 

“Super-King Blokk, I have some information.” The treaty voxed straight to Bignimuus’ ear-bead. He recognised Titanicoor’s voice immediately despite the distortion and the whistling of the wind. Titanicoor continued “It seems that in this new edition, vehicles have been given a Weapons Skill Value and will be able to fight in close combat…”

 

“Whaaatt!” Bignimuus screeched to a halt in direct base-to-base contact with the cowering Cortina. What happened next would one day come to be a point of contention amongst historians, but most agree that the resulting explosion was what led to the destruction of the entire world.

 

Well, that's all folks. I bet you feel really enlightened about the new edition now! For those who stuck around to the end, I can only commend your good taste and impeccable sense of humour. Until next time.

 

On the off chance that anyone actually enjoyed this article, don't forget to read Bungo the Barbarian, as there are plenty of hilarious chapters available to read now!

 

Bugo the Barbarian - Chapter 18, Bungo and the Briney Beast

A week passed as The Excelsior was lost amongst the waves; days running together into one endless night of thunderous fury. It was a miracle the barely seaworthy hulk hadn’t capsized yet, but nobody on board dared to breathe a word of it lest their last remaining fear would come to pass. Bungo had been no help either; feverish with amnesia and unable to leave his sickbed.

 

Shallica was on deck; perched on the prow of the ship. For the second day in a row, she looked out into the tumultuous grey and hoped for salvation. She squinted against the unrelenting downpour; for a moment a shape seemed to loom in the distance.

 

“Land!” Her exultant cry as cut short by confusion. The land seemed to be moving, or at least it appeared to have disappeared into the mists, like a wishful mirage just beyond reach.

 

Janboe was up the rigging in an instant and staring through his sexton at the object. Shallica wondered whether he knew how to use the nautical instrument at all. Come to think of it, it might explain why they’d been stuck in the storm for so long. It didn’t help her confidence when his trousers inexplicably fell down around his ankles and he scrambled to pull them up again; fumbling with the buckle for an unnecessarily long amount of time that made her wonder if the act was intentional.

 

Suddenly, Janboe’s face took on a different air; he shouted something down to the deck, but the words were lost amidst the storm. Judging from the goblin’s frantic arm movements it wasn’t good news. Her suspicions were confirmed when the ship suddenly lunged to one side in response to a loud crashing noise. A spray of water lapped across the deck and for one moment Janboe’s voice cut above the storm. The only word she could make out was “Serpent”, although by this stage it was irrelevant as the colossal creature she had originally mistaken for land reared its dinosauric head above the water.

 

At almost 30 feet tall above the waves it was impossible to tell the actual size of the beast. Its fiery eyes stared down hungrily at the sea hands that were scrambling on deck in an attempt to regain control of the wildly listing Excelsior. It lurched forward with the speed and destructive power of a lightning strike; neatly snatching a straggling cabin-boy from the crowd and wharfing him down in a shower of meaty chunklets. The disturbing scene was made all the more obscene as the creature emitted an odd purr that reverberated through the beams of the ship; it was laughing.

 

Shallica took to the air; her sensuous form spiralling straight for the beast’s draconian maw. At the last minute she twisted away and blazed demonic lightning into the right side of its face. The bolts cracked through the air; seeming to take power from the storm itself. The blast discharged against its flesh in a sizzling eruption that would have flash-fried a charging Wendigo, but barely scratched the surface of its iron-hard scaled hide. It turned immediately; snapping at thin air as Shallica flew overhead.

 

She turned in mid-flight, cutting her levitation and plummeting like a stone past its right flank. Her perception seemed to go into slow motion as the serpentine beast turned towards her, there was an opening for a brief moment and in that instant she sent another weave of lightning scorching into its face. This time the magical fires found their mark and its right eye exploded like a rotten pomegranate with a spray of pus and viscera. It threw its head back; wracked with pain; before its serpentine form crashed bodily to the deck.

 

The ship heaved out of the water in response to the sea beast’s bulk; cresting a particularly large wave before crashing down into the tumultuous sea with a resounding explosion of salt-water. Shallica’s magical power had begun to wane after she had expended so much energy in the assault; she floated unsteadily to the main sail and held on for dear life; drained of strength.

 

“We’re all gonna die!” screamed Janboe; wildly firing a pair of rapid fire hand crossbows ineffectually at the Excelsior’s monstrous occupant. He threw the spent weapons down and dived under a cargo sheet. Whether he’d ever emerge again was questionable, but even amidst the chaos Shallica still couldn’t help but notice that his trousers seemed to have fallen round his ankles again.

 

It was in that moment of utter despair, when all hope seemed lost, that something incredible happened.

 

“Who dares disturb the great Donglore – Lord of the Underworld!” The voice that boomed from somewhere inside the ship was so deep and manly that Shallica immediately went weak at the knees and collapsed pantingly against the main sail.

 

The cabin door flew open a moment later and Bungo emerged. Clad only in his leather pants and wearing a well shined chamber pot on his head he was a sight to behold. On closer inspection it seemed that he had through some unknown means bored a pair of eye holes in the shining spittoon, and he was standing proudly with his hands placed firmly at his hips. His rippling physique seemed even more bulbous amidst the storm as a flash of lightning illuminated his steely pecs magnificently.

 

The entire ship went silent; even the din of the storm and the crashing of the waves seemed to quiet in dumfounded confusion as the strange scene unfolded.

 

Leaping into the fray, Bungo delivered an explosive kick to the monster’s ruined eye socket. The force was so great that the charging barbarian’s colossal leg was momentarily buried up to the knee in the creature’s ruined face. He pulled his sticky leg out with a grunt of exertion; following it up wilt a ludicrously big punch that drove the massive creature 10 skidding metres across the deck; its bulk snapped the mainsail like a twig.

 

The Sea beast mewled pathetically as the Avatar of Donglore bore down on it.

“There’s….” Bungo paused, gathering speed for a new charge “No Escape!” He roared the last words as he tackled the monster again; driving his shining bed-pan-helm hard into its jugular. A colossal wind rocked the ship as all of the air was expelled from the beast’s lungs.

 

“BICEPS OF JUSTICE GIVE ME STRENGTH!” Bungo’s new persona seemed to be running wild. He leapt at the creature like an enraged tiger; wrapping his steely arms around its neck in an unrelenting bear-hug. It tried to roll away and back into the sea, but the bulksome warrior coiled his legs around its snake like throat and dug in deeper.

 

After several agonising minutes of straining, the beast finally went limp in Bungo’s arms. Its tongue rolled out listlessly as life left its body.

 

Not one to leave a job half finished, Bungo delivered a final boot to the creature that sent the lifeless beast plunging into the depths below.

 

“That’ll be 10 silver pieces each.” Janboe’s high pitch voice sounded from his vantage point on the floor. He dusted himself off and held out his hand expectantly. The crew looked at him blankly.

 

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I let anyone see a man like Bungo choke the one-eyed-snake for free.”