Angry Marines

Angry Marines. Always angry, all the time. >:C

The Angry Marines are a /tg/ homebrew chapter of the Space Marines. They are angry for the Emprah. All the time. Angry Marine tactics focus on getting into melee as quickly as possible, and proceeding to open up several crates of FUCK YOU in the direction of the enemies of the Imperium. There is even a Codex: ANGRY MARINES detailing the special rules required to adequately represent their rage.

The Angry Marines employ a variety of weapons notably different to the standard Space Marine arsenal. This includes dual powerfists, powerfeet, powerbats, powerwrenches, and even the Predator Angrinator, a modified version of the Predator Whirlwind artillery tank that fires the Angry Marines themselves directly into the enemy ranks. These items are detailed in Codex: ANGRY MARINES.

Even when not in combat, the Angry Marines are so enraged that their attempts to communicate sound like they are directed by Quentin Tarantino.

Background

"Lo, in the histories of the many chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, every Primarch listed that has ever come across my sage and learned eye has found root and home upon a planet, which hath shaped and set in stone the character of that warrior of the Emperor that he would become.

Therefore, one must give pause to the Primarch of our brothers, the Angry Marines, that great warrior of rage for he hath never fell upon a planet. Nay! But he was borne upon the ethers and drifts of space, alone in his capsule save for a discarded copy of Battle Toads III that the Emperor had thrown out, a legendary artifact that had fueled research into vast weapons of war that it might be unmade and erased from history.

When the capsule had finally been rammed into a drifting hulk of an old imperial battleship, it is said that the primarch was so enraged and frustrated with the vile game that he headbutted out the adam's apple of the first survivor that he encountered, and thereafter killed every inhabitant with the remnants of the dying initial combatant."

-Historian Nwabudike
Histories of the Ill Favored Chapters

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From the historical records of Inquisitor Jangel, non-aligned investigator of Adeptus Astartes 'Incidents'.
Section #511: The 'Friendly' Fire Incident of Klaxus XII.
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The records of this dire moment in Imperial History were (until I came upon them) known only to the two Space Marine Chapters that took part in the skirmish. However, only by putting the two records together is the truth found.

The Pretty Marines tell of a conflict fraught with glory against the odds, and of dire betrayal: "Before the sortie against our enemy our glorious Chapter-Master graced us with a speech, before the resplendent lines of Brother-Marines sparking under the twin suns he told of beautiful victory, of the fates of our enemies. As one we cheered, then awaited his inevitable dance number. From the skies fell a drop pod, smashing into our forward lines and engulfing the area with thick dust. It took us only a moment to clear the air with our blow-dryers, but it was a moment too late as we saw the Chapter-Master fallen..."

The Angry Marines tell the other side of the story, though in far less words due to a lacking in vocabulary beyond many four letter cusses. Hastily inserted into the annals of their chapter glory is simply a picture with the words "OWNED" across it, and the image of the Pretty Marines Chapter Master unconscious on the ground, a crude moustache drawn on his face with paint, and what appears to be a set of testicles on his forehead.

So began the greatest feud in Imperial History.

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Thought for the day: Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise.
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From the personal diaries of Private R.C. Mongler, 4th Chanian Regiment.
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My chapter had landed on a barren little ball of rock called Vesuveous. The Inquisition had ordered us to the planet on suspicion of Chaos corruption. Surely enough, we ran into a group of Chaos Marines within a day of landing. The fools. Turning their backs on the God Emperor for whatever sick rewards they received from the deceiving Warp fiends. The battle started the second morning. Their attack was especially fierce, and my brothers and I had great trouble keeping them at bay. It seemed that for every one of them we killed, three more showed up. Our own losses were of no small concern. In a rare moment of calm, Brother Captain Morgain confided in me that if we were not killed by these berserkers, we would almost certainly be killed by the Inquisition for failure. As our numbers dwindled, I grew concerned: surely we would all be killed, and the Emperor's work would not be carried out. We prepared for a final assault, one which had been coming for near a week of the most intense fighting I had ever seen. We surrounded a small hill, atop which stood our last Dreadnought, Brother Klarr. We saw their force coming from below. We knew this was our end. But suddenly, a shadow passed over us. Some great demon come to finish us off? No. It was a drop pod. Out of it stepped a small company of our brethren. They wore bright yellow armor, a bizarre crest upon their shoulders, unlike any chapter I had yet heard of. A circle, with two lines crossing it and two dots in the middle -- almost as if to suggest an angry face. They formed a line between us and the now charging Chaos Marines.

The Chaos Marines' bright red armor shone in the late afternoon sun, the spikes upon their shoulders menacing. The new arrivals stood fast. As the distance between the two forces began to close, there arose from these yellow warriors the loudest scream I had ever heard. It shook the ground. Even through my helmet, it made my ears ring and my skull ache. And it simply kept getting louder as their Captain's fist slowly rose into the air. As it rose to a nearly supersonic volume, I finally made out the words contained in the scream:

"ALWAYS ANGRY!!!"

In a chorus louder even than the Captain's scream, the soldiers returned:

"ALL THE TIME!!!"

Then it began.

...

Without a word, these space marines returned to their drop pod and were soon whisked away from the battlefield. There had been no more than a dozen of them, not a single word exchanged between our two chapters. To this day, I have never seen any marines fight with such rage and hatred. The mass of enemy berserkers was reduced to mere chunks, legs, arms, heads, craters full of blood. Bits of red armor lay strew about the field. We had not even had the chance to advance by the time the screaming -- both theirs and the enemy's -- was through. I turned to my Captain and asked, "Who were they?"

"I had thought it was rumor. But no. Emperor bless us all, those were the Angry Marines."

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Thought for the day: The Emperor Protects.
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Loading excerpt from 'Tales of Valour: Reports from the Ork Invasion of Calamitis Prime'.
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The PDF sold their lives dearly to stop the greenskin advance upon our primary hive, but on the horde came. There would be no escape but for the Planetary Governor, whose escape shuttle was prepped to leave before the attack began.

As our leader left us to die we prayed to the Emperor for deliverance while we sold our lives to protect his works. Glory be to his swift answer.

A yellow Thunderhawk descended like a falling star, the much larger transport vehicle crushing the smaller one as it landed on the same pad, and through the fire and smoke the mighty figure of a Space Marine strode forth. I will never forget the seething expression on his face as he looked upon us, upon the hive, upon the xenos.

The marine did not pause, he drew his chainsword and charged down the stairs with a battlecry upon his lips, screaming "FAAAAAAAAH-" or something of the sort, a cry with no end. Even as he disappeared into the hive we heard him clearly, even as we saw the small yellow figure leap from the hive into the throng of green below we heard him. Drop pods followed as more marines smashed into the horde, more yellow armoured marines echoing the endless cry. The xenos were crushed utterly, and still screaming in rage the Space Marines ran up the Hive once more, to where the Governor still stood staring at the crushed wreckage of his escape shuttle. The marines poured into their Thunderhawk, but the marine from before ran right up to the cowardly official, and ended his warcry at last, his finger pressing painfully against the man's forehead.

"-UUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOU!"

Rather unceremoniously, the Governor was then pitched off the top of the Hive, with his underwear pulled up over his head.
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Thought for the day: To question is to doubt.
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A day in the life of an Angry Marine.
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0400 - Morning INSULTS - Led by the Company Chaplain the Space Marines BETTER GET THEIR PUSSY ASSES IN ORDER BEFORE I STICK A POWERFOOT SO FAR UP SAID ANUS THEY WISH THEY WERE A SQUAT.
0500 - Morning Firing Rites - The Space Marines engage in target practice with their personal and squad weaponry, awards and punishments are dispensed FOR BULLSHIT OR A LACK THEREOF AND IF ANY FUCKING SHIT FUCKER THINKS OTHERWISE TOMORROWS PRACTICE WILL BE A ROUSING GAME OF LICK THE CATACHAN BARKING TOAD.
0700 - Battle Practice - BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF SHIT WITH YOUR POWER BAT, OR, BARRING THAT, JUST BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF SHIT WITH WHATEVER'S AVAILABLE. AND IF YOU'RE TOO PANTS ON HEAD RETARDED TO FIND SOMETHING TO HIT THEN YOU BETTER FUCKING START BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF THE GROUND BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED THIS PLANET HASN'T CONFESSED ITS SINS AGAINST THE EMPEROR.
1200 - Midday Prayer - ANY ONE NOT TOO STUPID TO HIT THEMSELVES PRACTICES SCREAMING AT SHIT. EVERYONE ELSE CAN GO SUCK THE APOTHECARIES DICK BECAUSE YOU DON'T NEED ANY MEDICINE FOR THAT TINY LITTLE BOLTER WOUND YOU FUCKTARD.
1300 - Midday Meal - Normally local wildlife killed during the morning activities. AND BELIEVE YOU ME WE KILL A LOT OF FUCKING BUNNY RABBITS AND PEPPERS AND SHIT AND EAT ALL OF IT AND LEAVE NONE FOR YOU. BOO HOO, BITCH.
1315 - Tactical Indoctrination - THIS USUALLY DOESN'T TAKE THIS LONG. I'LL JUST PUT UP A BIG PICTURE OF THE NEXT THING WE'RE GONNA SHOOT AND SAY "SHOOT THIS YOU FUCKERS" SERIOUSLY, WHO THE FUCK NEEDS AN HOUR AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES TO DO THAT. PUSSIES, THAT'S WHO.
1500 - Battle Practice - SEE ABOVE IF YOUR NOT WEARING A NECK BRACE YOU INCOMPETENT LITTLE NIPPLE LICKER. WE HIT MORE SHIT WITH LARGER OBJECTS.
2000 - Evening Prayer - I THINK YOU GET THE IDEA. I'M NOT GOING OVER THIS AGAIN. FUCK YOU.
2100 - Evening Meal - A feast (by normal human standards) is provided by the Chapter serfs, and some Chapter Masters may allow alcohol to be consumed. FUCK YEAH IT IS. WE'LL ORDER LIKE A THOUSAND PIZZA'S TO THE PRETTY MARINES HOME WORLD AND THEN WE'LL STICK IN THE DVD'S OF BLOSSOM OR 7TH HEAVEN OR... REALLY HARDCORE PORN. FUCK YOU, LITTLE FAGGOT SHOW WATCHING SHOW WATCHERS. GO WRITE IN YOUR LIVE JOURNAL.
2130 - Night Firing Exercises - WE SPEND MORE TIME. HITTING MORE THINGS. WITH LARGER OBJECTS. FUKKEN DUH.
2315 - Maintenance Rituals - FIX YOUR SHIT OR I'LL GRAB A TECHPRIEST AND MAKE HIM FIX YOUR SHIT. ONE OF THOSE CLAUSES IS LITERAL.
2345 - Free Time - Space Marines are permitted this time to reflect upon their duty to The Emperor, however many Chapter Masters regard free time as a frivolous waste, and a dangerous distraction in the extreme. EXCEPT WATCHING BLOSSOM. FUCK YOU.
0000 - Rest Period - BUT YOU BETTER NOT SPEND FOUR WHOLE HOURS SLEEPING. IF YOU DO YOU ARE NOT ANGRY ENOUGH AND TOMORROW YOU GET THE FIRST CHANCE TO PLAY PIN THE TAU ON THE CARNIFEX.

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Thought for the day: Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise.
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See Also/Notable Angry Marines

• Commissar Fuklaw
• Some weedy chaos fucks who think they are as awesome as the Angry Marines.

Gallery

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FFFFFFFFFF WHO THE FUCK UPLOADED THIS IT'S A FUCKING BELLIGERENT ENGINE YOU FUCK In 1st Edition, ALL marines were Angry Marines The Angry Marines fuck up Tzeentch's shit. The Angry Marines attempt to fuck up Kharn's shit.

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FUCK YOU This is why you don't try to make Angry Marines more so. SHITCOCKS FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF Always Angry, all the time. The Angry Marines know how to kill it with fire. POWERFEET ARE FOR KICKING THOSE FUCKS IN THE BALLS. RAAAAAAAGEEE! YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT WE'VE GOT A TITAN LEGION Angry Marines haet LCB ANGRY TABLETOP ASSKICKING TIME. Angry Marines haet Tau