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Not all of the warriors that take the field of battle can be measured by their kill ratios. Not every model makes up it's points. Some of these valiant souls are crucial to the war effort, but recieve no accolades.

I raise my glass to you, Longfang Sergeant! With a heavy heart, you accept your fate, and lead your men into battle. Never will he wield a special weapon. Whilst the other members of his pack rack up the kills, destroying hordes of greeenskins, busting tanks and bringing flyers to the earth, he stands silently among them. He sees missle launchers in the hands of his brothers, as he pathetically looks at the only bolt pistol on the field, hanging limply at his side. While his packmates get songs in their honor, he only gets the first allocated wound.

I honor your sacrifice, oh wolfen brother. 'Tis by your sacrifice, that my missle launcher may fire...one more time.

A toast to my bog-standard terminators, commonly referred to as tard 1 and tard 2! While their brothers bring glory to the Crusade with Cyclone Missile Launchers and chainfists, they stand ready to throw themselves in the way of any attack aimed at their far more valuable brethren.



For some damned reason, I always manage to save the tards while the valuable ones die though...

Here here!! Here's to the Shield Drone who sacrifice themselves in every game for the greater good. With only a chance to headbutt someone in melee they hover firmly above the ground mindlessly awaiting their destruction en mass..........................

To the Humble Imperial Guard Blob Sarge.. knowing that his only duty in life is to be a bullet magnet from the friendly neighborhood Commissar. He gives his life, so that his Platoon does not flee....

To those Kroot blobs that always got out shot, fought, and run by everything, but mostly to Necrons... Yeah, I never liked you, you disheveled over glorified chickens with the "free kill point" stamp. I hope you enjoy being replaced with Firewarriors in fishes because I most certainly do.

To that Thunderfire cannon which always scatters off-target.

To that plasma-gunner that will ALWAYS fail the Gets Hot! roll.

To all of my marines who for some reason must have been discussing tactics for the next marine basketball day instead of how we can be victorious against anyone! they then proceed to be startled awake as shots ring by their heads!

especially my dreadnought who has never even seen close combat or done anything useful...ever, but he looks good

I shall raise a glass to all the tank crews of the sole non-transport vehicle in a 1000 point game who might just make it to their second turn to nobly distract the enemy heavy weapons while their squishy friends advance into positions!

I take a nod to my....

I can't think of anything in the Chaos Codex like this...

To "Freedom Cannon"
Until we reach 1500 points you will forever remain a fire magnet of epic proportions.

AngryMarine wrote:Not all of the warriors that take the field of battle can be measured by their kill ratios. Not every model makes up it's points. Some of these valiant souls are crucial to the war effort, but recieve no accolades.

I raise my glass to you, Longfang Sergeant! With a heavy heart, you accept your fate, and lead your men into battle. Never will he wield a special weapon. Whilst the other members of his pack rack up the kills, destroying hordes of greeenskins, busting tanks and bringing flyers to the earth, he stands silently among them. He sees missle launchers in the hands of his brothers, as he pathetically looks at the only bolt pistol on the field, hanging limply at his side. While his packmates get songs in their honor, he only gets the first allocated wound.

I honor your sacrifice, oh wolfen brother. 'Tis by your sacrifice, that my missle launcher may fire...one more time.

Haha.

I almost always upgrade my dev sergeant to a vet and give him some cool wargear so he can join in the fun. But yeah, most of the time he just stands there and points at things he wants his squad to make explode.

I don't know if he should be here. If the answer is yes he should take a first place. And places 2-10 should be empty to show how awesome he is.
I'm talking about the noble Farseer. He doesn't have a gazillion attacks. He doesn't shoot infinite amounts of deadly bullets. Doesn't carry a huge ass weapon and doesn't kill almost anyone.
All he does is silently empowering his friends fighting for the right cause. He's like a commisar, but instead of bullets he sends hugs and kisses.
I raise my coloured drink with a little umbrella to you Farseer.

Da Boyz rises dere fungus bear to da Nobz dat only wans ta fight wid dere choppas! Dey get ta first wund an dey die firsta! I'n deff dey give da boyz more Waarghs ta fight!

I raise my glass to you, the two veterans armed with chainswords and bolt pistols in my command squad. There to take wounds for the chapter banner to still fly high and for the champion to duel endless opponents, saved only possibly by the noble apothecary. To guard a captain is honour enough, but to die so his life is spared must be the greatest accolade... Congratulations on your noble valour, bravery, determination and loyalty. No other shall take your place. (any other would be a waste of points! )

To the Necron Pariah: saved from the humans as an out-cast and promised a new everlasting life of acceptance only to forever remain off the table because your rules are terrible. I salute you...or would if I knew anyone who played them.

Here's to you, young guardsmen of the Imperium of Man. My brothers in arms, you unlucky few who join the ranks of your fellow soldiers to protect your families and to kills the heretics, but then die because my ordenance scatters a bit to far. Oh it I sad, I mourn your death, but in the end your life is but a buffer to keep the enemy another round or two from my tanks. I salute you and drink to your name, you who meet your maker at the end of a battle cannon, who's gunner is still drunk from last night. And to those who survive the manticore rounds that scatter about 5 inches onto your squad befor CC, but who survive the S10 blast with a 1 to wound, goes my respect, because you die in same or in the next turn to protect the gung-ho commissar and seargents who have the precious power weapons that never wound anything anyway. Average guardsmen 1-100, we shall always remember your sacrifice.

All those neophytes in my crusader squads who exist solely for the purpose of taking allocated wounds.

A toast to you, AOBR Dreadnought.

May your conversions continue to be many.

I raise my can of cider to every unit in my Space Marine army, where the sergeant holds a greater importance than you.
I raise it to the 3 sniper scouts who always die first to let Telion and the Fail-launcher scout to survive and hope to kill something.
I raise it to the combat squads who die to allow the melta-gunner to survive and fail at redeeming their losses on multiple occasions.
I raise it to the bikers of the lone bike squad who die before the sergeant, plasma gunners or the attack bike take any wounds.
And I raise it to the brave veterans of the Command Squad that has only seen action twice, as they take the bullets first before the banner, apothecary or the Champion take any hits.

My Space Marine has a lot of "spares"

I raise my glass to you, empty rhino that I use to distract the opponent so your more expensive brethren are spared the attention of heavy weapons for a turn or two!

This toast is to the noble rhino! May your paper thin armor protect nothing, and your storm bolter miss everytime! If it weren't for those smoke launchers on top of you, you would die on turn 1 instead of 2.

damn, ninja'd.

And a toast to you, brave land raider! Whether you be reduced to molten slag by Termicide, exploded by Vindicator, or cleft in twain by Demon Prince, rest peacefully in the knowledge that the Assault Terminators are 8" closer to the safety of the assault phase thanks to your efforts!

A toast to you, my dear Sentinel. Rarely does your Plasma Cannon acheive anything of worth but, if you don't explode in a fountain of shrapnel and flaming mechanocal components in the first two turns, you do manage to hold up something important in combat for the rest of the game. Your 80+ points, an afterthought in most of my lists, has proved it's tarpitting capabilties time and time again.

I toast to the lone gaurdsmen in the sweaty man mob that get into close combat with foes much mightier than they. The single man responsible for ending the threat. At the end of the day, when the terminators lay unmoving upon the ground, or when bayonets are stained with the filth of foul daemonic princes, the victory is accredited to the masses, and not the lone soldier who delivered the final blow. I salute you faceless soldier, and know that when you're squad is beset by rape covered in power armor or daemonic energies, I know you'll be there to end the fight with a shank of deliverance.

Hear Hear!

To the heroic soldier who pilots the Emperor's Wrath in the form of a Deathstrike Missile. He who sits 200 miles behind enemy lines readind a magazine or watching a film on his cogicator until the time of retribution comes, and the fate of hundreds of men lays in his humble hands. It is he who presses the single button, launching the gargantuan rocket towards the front lines, possibly killing both friendly and enemy forces alike, at which point he relaxes in the cockpit and lights up a cigarette.

To my hunter killer missile! Let yourself be guided by the emperors wraith, and then promptly die out and scratch the paint of your target.

To the guardsmen of the powerblob! I salute you! Forever will you be slaughtered as your sergeants somehow survive to claim the lives of dozens of marines, you are an implacable shield to them, and through them you shield the Emperor.

I raise my glass to you, my Chapter Champion, for you, and only you, have to face the dishonour of falling in close combat to the mighty tau pathfinder squad! May your broadsword ever fail you, and may your armour ever be passed by their vengeful rifle butts.

A toast!

To the meatshi--I mean Guardsmen of my powerblobs! May I allocate wounds on you to save the lives of your infinitely more valuable Sergeants and Commissar.

To the Captains and Crew of my Sword-Class Frigates. May you die knowing that your sacrifice forced the enemy to shoot at you instead of my almost-crippeled cruiser for a turn.

To the crews of my Basilisks...bravely firing shells at distant foes, even as Trygons burst around you, Wolf Scouts sneak in, and Fire Dragons zoom up in Wave Serpents.

May your sacrifice not be forgotten, and never forget that you most likely died allowing the guy who just so happened to be modeled with the fancier gun/sword than you to die a few minutes later than he normally would have. May your souls rest easy at the foot of the Golden Throne.

=drinks=

A toast to the five little Horrors of Tzeentch who so nobly protect my lines from the Trygon threat. Time and again you have proven that your nurgle cousins cannot match your resliliency, and that no matter how terribad you may be in close combat, Tyranids from Gant to Carnifex to Trygon are utterly incapable of finishing you off before the Bloodthirster says hello.