Yearly Chaos Incursion: Target Identified - S. Clause

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Repetition of General Directive 264-A-XCIV

To: Distribution, Sectorium Primus

From: Office of The Grand Inquisitor, Ebineezar Grinchanius

Re: Yearly Chaos Incursion

This purpose of this notice is to remind the forgetful of the annual visitation by the minion of Chaos known to the unworthy as Santa Claus.

+++ The Emperor's Light Banishes the Shadows of Heresy +++

As the diligent will recall, the incursion occurs regularly every 8742 to

8766 Terran hours, roughly corresponding to a Terran year. This trespass has

occurred with disturbing regularity since at least the Horus Heresy, and

perhaps longer, as many records were misplaced.

+++ Love and Obey the Emperor +++

The faithful will recognize the target on sight, as his garb and gear mark

him immediately as an agent of the abominations.

Santa Claus is a corpulent, bloated creature approximating the human form.

It wears a crimson tunic the color of fresh blood, marking him as a possible

follower of Khorne. It is bearded, mocking the honorable Squats, and its

hair is a sallow shade of gray, betraying its unnatural age. Be advised that

despite the creatures fearsome name, no claws have been observed, and the

former is likely a ruse.

The target has been observed in the company of smaller creatures having the

appearance of thin (less than 30 kg, approx.), stunted (1.5 meters)

humanoids with pointed ears. Their appearance suggests the involvement of

the decadent panzee, and although that race denies involvement (*reference

the Rudolphian Campaign [index 4111-BGE-MMXCII-Primus], specifically the

Battle of Yukon Coneliaus IV [ibid., index 6]*), agents are advised to be

prepared for their involvement, as the panzee are known for their deceitful

ways.

Santa Claus is conveyed by means of a grav-sled powered by unnatural

livestock as detailed below.

The target's vehicle is a grav-sled. It has superfluous runners which are

used only on landing and take-off. Despite the appearance, no frozen water

is necessary for its operation (another ruse). The vehicle's resemblance to

the foul Palanquin of Nurgle should not be discounted, even though the

colors continue to be reminiscent of Khorne.

The device is powered by the unholy ministrations of eight or nine

quadrupeds. Ordo Malleus scholars have identified these creatures as warped

versions of an extinct species of Terran mammal known as a Moose (reference

900002-ER-CIV). These beings single-mindedly pull the target's vehicle

during its yearly invasion. They are outfitted with belled harnesses which

are apparently imbued with the ability of flight. These beasts have been

likened to the Fiends of Slaanesh, and such a comparison should not be

dismissed too lightly, as the creatures shed a luminous substance as

effluent as they move. Inquisitors should take care to avoid exposure.

Perhaps more disturbing is the variable number of the minion-creatures. On

occasion, a ninth Moose has been observed, placed before the other Mooses.

This creature radiates a sickly reddish glow from its snout, as a psychic

beacon to other followers of the Vile Ones. This Chaotic device has allowed

the target to navigate despite our best efforts to jam its navigation

systems.

+++ Blessed is the Virtue of Blind Faith +++

Santa Claus gains entry to the domiciles of loyal Imperial Citizens (see

below) and leaves small Chaos Rewards to tempt the faithful.

Inquisitors are reminded to confiscate and incinerate these items before any

lasting damage is done. As a localized temporal distortion field is in

effect around the target, these items are secreted in the habitations of the

Imperium at exactly 2400 hours in every location defiled by the creature. It

is therefore possible to gain entry to the citizens' quarters and remove the

items (often cunningly hidden in footwear) before the citizens are aware of

the heresy that has been committed upon them.

In other cases, removal of the items after the citizens have discovered them

is possible. In such situations, small children are occasionally loath to

surrender the items, as the tainting of the juveniles has already begun.

Executions of the above are to be handled in the most expedient manner

possible.

Often, juveniles that are well within the Emperor's Grace are given small

blocks of graphite ore rather than the more tempting gifts visited upon the

less faithful. The identity of these individuals are to be recorded, as

future recruitment into the Inquisition or Adeptus Terra is possible [Note:

Inquisitors or other agents who do *not* receive the graphite stones should

be watched carefully].

Santa Claus enters the domiciles be way of heating ducts and waste vents.

The size of the opening is not a factor, as the creature can adjust its mass

and displacement by means of psychic manipulation. Mining these openings

with frag, krak and other demolitions has proven unsuccessful.

The creature egresses by the same means, after ritually caressing his

nostrils. No mucus has ever been recovered.

+++ The Death of Emperor's Enemies is the Only Gift We Can Give +++

Although all previous attempts at the destruction of Santa Claus have

failed, Inquisitors are urged to make such an attempt whenever possible.

However, of more importance is the suppression of cultist activity

associated with the yearly incursion. The Tainted have been known to erect

shrines in their homes in the form of shrubbery adorned with baubles and

lights [Note: the shrubbery is often highly inflammable, and offers a

discrete method of executing the offending heretics without calling undue

attention to the operation].

Other warning signs include:

Hallucinations involving sugared candies during slumber;

Excessive singing;

References to "a magical time of year" (note the influence of Tzeentch);

The construction of effigies made of snow; and

The performance of Slaanishi rituals while underneath plant clippings of the

genus Phoradendron flavescens.

Once again, executions should be handled in an expedient manner.

+++The Emperor Protects+++

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It's Here... Horus Heresy Book 4 - Overview

  It's here, it's really here!  Like Christmas in November, my forgeworld box arrived today!

  Alas, the tale is bittersweet, as the book's slipcase suffered damage in the journey to my doorstep.  I doubt if I will ask FW for a replacement, since it is only the slipcase and not anything on the inside, but I may just email them pictures in hope that they toughen up their packaging.

  For those who do not know, this book covers Horus' actions after the Isstvan events, as he starts his 'crusade' into the imperium towards Holy Terra.  It covers a bunch of Knight houses, the Solar Auxilia of the Imp Guard and more Mechanicum goodness.  There is also a new campaign system, something I always look forward to in hopes it can be adapted to 40k easily.  I'm dying to get into bed and start reading this bad boy!

  I will not be reviewing the book just yet, I always say I will, but I hardly ever get to it.  This is just an overview of what came in.  On with the pictures!!!

 The slipcase with ye olde eye 'o Horus on it.  You can kind of see the damage here on the left side and the two bottom corners.  On the back side is the much better Imperial Aquila!

   Closeup of the worst damage.  At 90 pounds ($140), I kind of expect better packaging, so I may just fire off an e-mail tonight on this.

   But on to the innards... or 30k goodness.  On the left is the double sided, very heavy stock, twin sided poster.  More shots of this later, suffice to say for now that it is beautiful.  In the middle, the meaty bits, or the book itself.  On the right side, the 4 card stock laminated reference sheets.

  As always, a beautiful presentation, gilded pages, metal edges, all very nice.  It looks like they changed the way they glue the picture onto the cover, for there are no raised corners and it seems slightly inset into the cover.  Hopefully no more delamination issues.

   Gilded edges.  That gap is caused by the bookmark, not damage or spine problems.

   The four reference sheets.  One each for special rules and notes, Weapons of the Mechanicum, Weapons of the Space Marines, and weapons of the Solar Auxilia.  A very nice inclusion, I think.

  The two sides of the poster.  It is printed on very heavy card-stock, very durable.  This might be a candidate for a frame, but it would have to be back-folded and mounted very well in order to look good.

  So, there ya go.  The package in a nutshell.  Hopefully I'll get the guts up to review the contents, but I'm always leary of that, since I'm a newb!! :)

A letter to Horus, the wussy warmaster!

(Ok, so I have re-read the first three books again, and I’m still pissed. Sometimes, you just gotta rant, people. I’m tired of chaos lovers… I’m especially tired of Abaddon, the man-lover and I’m really tired of Horus, the Half-baked, whiny-warmaster!!! Here is my open letter to Horus the Wussified Warmaster.  Do not read if you have not and plan to read the Horus Heresy novels :)

Yeah, yeah, Horus, so you’re a Primarch and all. You’re still the ultimate girly-man, and I’ll tell you why. You have no guts, you have no self-confidence, you lack the self-esteem a warrior needs and ultimately, you’re weak in character. You let minor, petty things get to you and you forgot to check your ego at the door. As a result, mankind has spent the last ten thousand years in the ol’ grimdark!

Let’s see if I have this straight… Horus is a genetically engineered super-human war machine. A real Lord of War, if you will. Horus has genetically enhanced everything and the benefit of massive intelligence. You are the Emperor’s fave child.  When the Emperor has to be other places, you know, to do Emperor things, he puts Horus in charge of… well… EVERYTHING in the freaking imperium of mankind. Yeah, that about sums it up, right old boy?

So, instead of using your amazing emperor-given gifts of wisdom and brain-power, our little girly-man starts to have nagging doubts and gets to feeling all lonely.  “Oh golly, daddy, am I good enough for this?” Get a life, you loser!  Yes, you’re good enough; the emperor didn’t make YOU warmaster because of your steely good looks (even if that’s what Abaddon thinks). He TRUSTED you! Move on!  There is an old saying, “When you’re in command, Command!” That means that you do what you think is right Horus, you whiner, and trust your own judgment. If the emperor thinks you’re screwing up, he’ll let you know.

Then you start with the whole, “oh golly, this is hard, being in charge of everything”. Man up, you little dork. If it was easy, the emperor would have had a normal man do it, but he picked you, a FREAKING PRIMARCH to do it. The emperor kind of thought you might actually, oh I don’t know, Primarch up and become a leader. Instead, you picked the easy route and wimped out.

It took some real nerve to actually try to blame the emperor for your own lack of male genitalia. To actually say that it was his fault that you were weak, because he should not have left you with such a heavy burden to bear. What did you think? Being a Primarch was just about war and swords and bolters? You didn’t see that it might take some real thought? You whiny little bitch, go change your panties, I think you may have leaked a little.

And what about this ‘ability’ you have to see into men’s hearts and souls? You really mean to tell me you didn’t see Erebus coming? You didn’t see this addlepated twit of a space marine chaplain manipulating you? Some Primarch you turned out to be. The minute the going gets tough, you whine like a girl and sit on a Nurgle infested moon and cry.

I could almost deal with you when you had the whole Mournival thing going. Good idea, that was, always good to have some other opinions around. As long as you realize the final decision rests with you!! You’re the gol-durned WARMASTER. But, instead of listening to everyone all around, no, you prefer to go to Abaddon, who has the galaxy’s biggest man-crush on you, for advice. (Yeah, and after you die, you twinkle-toed panty-stuffer, you leave him to run thirteen freakin crusades from the eye of terror because of his failed man-crush… way to go, good disciple choice there…) So, yeah, you almost had a good idea, but like everything else, you lacked the willpower to do it right. You’re not a leader; you’re a whiny follower with delusions of leadership. It’s like putting the schoolyard bully in charge, you may win a few fights, but as soon as there is a challenge, you’ll fold like a house of cards.

And boy did you fold up. The minute some warp entity shows you a scene of some emperor worship, your bruised up little ego takes over and you go on a three day crying binge. Your complete lack of character, confidence and leadership showed up that day. Even Angron would have seen through that shit, but not you, you had to be the one everyone liked. You wanted statues to Horus, didn’t you, you freak.

I’m not going to fault you for your betrayal and what you did to all your loyal brothers. Your complete lack of moral fiber and character means that you wouldn’t learn the lesson anyhow. For you, making the plans to murder your own people, to kill your own brothers was easy once you took the gutless way out. It was easy to use their strengths against them, as a coven of women might. And I’m sure your little privates-polisher; Abaddon was helping all the way. It’s quite easy to be the warmaster when you’re planning a seditious little war on your own family, your own father. Just remember, jack-wagon, it’s hard to keep an oath; it’s very easy to break one. But the measure of a man comes from keeping his word, not breaking it.

I wonder how you could look Sanguinious in the face that day. How could you look upon someone who had upheld their convictions, stood true to their word, and their brothers? Is that why you killed him? Was the reflection of your sorry little ass in his eyes too much to bear? Did you realize, all too late, that your entire life was forfeit, meaningless and wasted? I may be giving you too much credit. Petty men hardly ever see the truth when it stares them in the face, they would rather blame someone else for their failures.

Being cut low was too good a fate for you. It should be you on a golden throne as well as the Emperor. Although, I suspect your throne would be made of a quivering mass of jelly, as befits your spineless nature. You should have been forced to watch ten thousand years of misery and strife, caused because you couldn’t do as men do. You could not keep your word, your faith or your honor.

Death was too good for you, you pretentious little sot. In your final act, as in all things, you took the easy way out. Wuss!

(Thus endeth the lesson :)