Brothers of Apathy
|The Brothers of Apathy|
|Specialty||Bein' Lazy Motherfuckers|
Former loyalists of the Ultramarines who were lured into Chaos by a Sorcerer who started dabbling in the "dark arts" and ended up corrupting nearly an entire sector to the ways of just kind of sitting back and relaxing. While they're pretty neutral towards most things, including the undivided Ruinous Powers and the accompanying gods, something about the Emperor just sitting around chilling on his bitching throne all day rubs them the wrong way.
The Brothers of Apathy (the laziest mother fuckers this side of the golden throne) are a Chaos warband of previous Smurfs followers who got sick of Papa Smurf telling them to do shit and decided that going with Chaos would be better. (It did allow them to become large as fuck due to other warbands wanting to be as chill as them.)
Mostly because everyone else says they're heretics for doing it themselves. They take out this passive aggression by exploiting and concurring, usually by totally not calling people back like they said they would, losing comm frequencies, or tricking people into beer runs or whatever.
They do have problems though; try as they might, Chaos just won't let them crash on their comfy couches like they want and opts to keep them wide awake. It's not so bad though since it makes marathoning shit easier.
They are currently "stuck" on a feudal ice world though, which is pretty bitching since it gives them an excuse to chill out and do whatever because fuck that noise outside, am I right?
But try as they might, they occasionally have to put up the odd fight and thanks to other warbands agreeing with their chillax to the max philosophy, there's a lot of them. Trouble is, fighting is a lot of work and thanks to some crashed Rogue Traider ships, they have access to servo arms and teleporters, so they don't really have to do much of anything after the enemy gets in their face and demands rent or whatever those greenskins are always yelling about.
When all else fails though, their bro Abaddon ALWAYS has their back. Man, that dude's alright. (Other warband wanting to be as chill as them though)
It sounds incredible but actually someone moved his fat neckbeard arse and wrote some ok-tier writefaggotry on this lazy pricks.
With a bellowing roar, Warboss Sharktoof smashed is mighty choppa on the ground, only to see it remaining stuck into the frozen terrain of that cursed iceworld. He snorted loudly and headed back to his trukk, casually stomping into the ground a pair of grotz; his lieutenant, a Mekboy whose name he never bothered to remember, as he did, in fact, with everyone else's, was busy hitting the trukk with an oversized wrench, an action he deemed as the best way to make proppa checkz and reparationz to the toyz of the waaagh. "WHERE IZ THE HUMIEZ?" Sharktoof smashed his fists on the trukk's hull, lost in yet another fit of murderous rage. The Mekboy sighed- the Warboss wasn't the smartest ork around, but he was certainly powerful enough to launch his own waaagh and this left a position as his right arm perfectly fit for an ork that was more cunning then brutal, an opportunity the mekboy eagerly exploited. Yet sometimes, the lack of anything resembling subtlety, let alone patience, in Sharktoof really bothered him. "Ohi, Warboss, ya just killed a bunch of gitz a couple of ourz ago..." the Mekboy's speech was interrupted by another loud expression of disappointment from Sharktoof. "Look boss, I know you iz lookin' for a more proppa fight than burnin' down villagez but I iz sure, just keep killin' an' lootin' and some stronger gitz will come to aid those weaklingz" Sharktoof paused from is raging bellowing, seemingly reached by the words of his more sensible lieutenant. "... THEY IZ COMING?" "Yes, warboss, there iz no mistake. Just wait an' let the boyz do their thing". Warboos Sharktoof sighed, his anger seated once again by the Mekboy's clever reasoning. "THEN WE IZ WAITIN'. BOYZ! WE IZ STOPPIN' HERE!" the waaagh was large, too large to hope every boy could hear the loud yelling, yet he knew that in an few minutes all of them would have been ready to camp: the warboss orders where passed from boy to boy thanks to some grots the Mekboy equipped with looted nunciovox, so that every time Sharktoof spoke, everyone obeyed. Obviously the warboss didn't understand it, and was pleased to see how his roar seemed to reach everyone in the whole horde.
On their comfortable sentry positions, two marines were starting to get very pissed off. Sitting on a couch, they had been trying to ignore the bellowing tyrant and his noisy horde, focusing their attention on a stolen archaotech image-broadcasting box they informally called TeeVee. "You know, brother Solomon, this is really starting to get unbearable. I mean, how are we supposed to understand who is secretly hiding into Nurgle's coffer now that he is going out to chill with Khorne if the keep roaring like this?" The talking Marine wore an armor bearing the inverted omega that identified his chapter as an Ultramarine successor, yet the letter was strangely damaged and half-wasted, as if his owner had tried to scrap it from the pauldron before losing interest in the matter. His collegue, sitting next to him and visibly bored, wore an ancient Emperor's Children suit that was in a similar state. "I bet it is Slaneesh, the fucker wants to claim Isha once and for all..." he stopped, since the noise coming from the now banqueting horde was so loud he couldn't even hear himself talking. "This is ridiculous, in the name of the Warp. We are going to miss the rest of the episode if they keep this going. Brother Arcturius, the situation calls for us to take countermeasures. Unfortunately." "*Sigh*" I guess you are right, but I have a Lotr marathon at 3 o'clock so let's make this quick and contact the headquarters at once, brother." None of them moved. They started staring at each other, in a silent match of willpower, until finally brother Solomon, sighing and snorting, raised from the couch and grabbed hold of communication system fingerboard, typing a brief message to the headquarters. He waited.
Roughly ten minutes later, some techmarine on duty, or whatever passes by this word between the Brothers of Apathy, noticed the message. It called for minutes of concentration and tapping into his inner reserves of will to actually gather the strength needed to stand up and write back to the sentries. The other techmarines, who were mainly slacking off around the hall while playing videogames with their servoarms, frowned at him; waiting less then twenty five minutes before bothering to do something was considered a sign of weakness. After all, the so-called Emperor, that rotting corpse sitting over his golden wheelchair, was ignoring everyone and everything since ten thousands years and nobody in the entire Imperium seemed to question why he never got up and put and end to all of the shit going on in the galaxy. So why should a humble marine be expected to be snapping on foot at every sign of mutants/xenos/heresy/whatsoever?
"So, brother Arcturius, did they send back a message?" Brother Solomon was back to his guard duty, his ass sticked steady on the couch, and was currently trying to muster his inner will in order to check if his bolter was properly working and ready to action. He actually knew it wasn't, but negating this simple truth for a while helped him relaxing and the only objective he always had in his life was just doing that. He even abandoned the Emperor's Children when he had the chance to do so, since the only pleasure he desired was the pleasure that comes from doing nothing. "Yes, brother, they did. I was just waiting before actually going to read the orders. I mean, it is not like the orks are going anywhere, mh? And if they are, well, we will briefly thank the dark powers and go back to... guard duty" Brother Solomon nodded quietly, showing appreciation for this wise decision of Arcturius and turning up he volume a bit more. Were subtitles available, the two of them would have not even contacted the other marines before the actual end of the show. "Don't you dare lying to me, Isha, I know that sly Tzeencth comes to this house trying to corrupt you every time I..." Suddenly, the screen of TeeVee turned black, statics crackling everywhere near the device. His eyes wide open, mouth shouting in horror, Brother Solomon fell over, dropping on his knees, while Arcturius was trying in vain to bring the images back hitting the black box lightly with his armored fists. With a terrifying explosion, TeeVee fell back, sparks crackling, spitting fumes. The two marines stared in horror at the dead archaotech relic, then at each other, and the at the screen showing what the camera pointed on the orks was recoding. On top of a massive Gargant, an ork covered in oil and grease was mounting a giant satellite dish made of eldar scraps. Rage started filling the marines' hearts. Quickly, Brother Solomon wrote back to the headquarters, detailing the events while tears of anger dropped from his eyes.
In less then a minute, an array of Dreadnaughts, Rhinos, Razorbacks, Landspeeders and even a rusted, dusty Titan emerged from the Fortress of Idleness, the monastery of the chapter. Sitting of top of his throne, Warboss Sharktoof could only see a black cloud rapidly advancing form the horizon line. He stood up eagerly, bellowing to summon the boys to the proper fight he longed for, before a chainsword tore open his ribcage. Roaring with madness he turned back, shrugging off the weapon, the wound that should have killed a lesser being merely an mild inconvenience to the powerful Warboss. What he saw was an assault marine clad in blue armor. "YOU. BROKE. IT" the marine roared, smashing himself onto the ork body. Sharktoof, however, was not your average boy, having withstood even a direct hit from Basilisk during his life, and promptly punched the humie straight on the face, tossing his beakie helmet awayand revealing the humie's facial featuers, his teeth gnashing, an expression the like the boss never saw before deforming the humie's face. For the first time in a long, long time, Warboss Sharktoof, destroyer of Callidus IV, bane of the Cignus Sector, felt his own heart trembling in fear. He swung his mighty choppa at his enemy, while all around the boyz where starting to engage the first wave of assault marines. Together, their voices as one, they were not chanting anthems to the emperor or the ruinous powers, nor swearing the destruction of the ork race, nor shouting the battle cry of the chapter. They roared, loud as the thunder: "YOU BROKE IT! FUCK YOU!"
The wind swept away some dust from the corpse of a fallen gargant, lying on the frozen ground. All around, weapons and bits of armors, and the stench of death rising from them dead bodies of countless greenskins. Sharktoof himself was impaled right on his throne, a chainsword deeply buried in his trunk.
Brother Solomon craked open a new pack of cheetos, spreading his content in a bowl he offered to the marine sitting next to him. "So, captain Arcturius, wasn't it a good fight? We got to work out some tension, a least." Arcturius nodded lightly, staring with a rapt expression at the now repaired TeeVee. Four techpriests had attended to the reparations for a week and a half, pouring all of their knowledge into fixing the revered relic of the chapter. " Don't call me captain, Solomon. You know I don't like titles, they only bring responsibilities. And shut up, I need to watch all of the recorded episodes of Love in the Warp I missed while TeeVee was broken, the guys at the headquarters are teasing me to no end threatening to reveal me what Fulgrim does when he comes home and find the Masque is making out with Angron." Solomon seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment, then shrugged and sit down on the couch. In the barren, frozen grounds, no noise was to be heard. Only the quiet, almost religiously low sound that is made when someone eats cheetos while watching the TeeVee.