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I give you the razzberry for standing on My Hill.

I give you the boot on

My Hill

I send you to Boot Hill on


My hill.

I reboot My Hill.

I die with my boots on

On my hill.

Wait ...

I wait for CL's punchline on

My Hill

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this hill a new nation, conceived in blood and dedicated to the proposition that all Dakkites are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that those Dakkites or any Dakkites so warlike and so tenacious can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of this hill as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that their flag might wave. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this hill. The brave Dakkites, here and gone who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The boards will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this hill under Snurl shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from My Hill.

If there's a wall in our way, then we smash it down! If there isn't a hill then we carve one ourselves! The magma of our souls burns with a mighty flame! Snurl! Just who in the hell do you think we are!?

My Hill

I cover the hill in thick layers of marmite and form into into a salty yeast extract palace driving others away with its powerful flavours.

My hill also anyone have any toast....

I take that yeast and make it into Kampuchea. My hill now smells and tastes disgusting.

Papa Nurgle blesses your yeast with an infection. While you are rolling around scratching and burning, I resume command of My Hill.

I assassinate the corrupt leader Snurl, starting a revolution on

My Hill

I quickly take charge of the rabble and lead them to victory, then promptly stab you in the back and assume control of


My hill.

You awake to find a giant tribute to your greatness, a wooden pumpkin, outside of your gates. You haul it inside and party at your wonderful victories and success. Later that night, ninja spring from the pumpkin and quickly dispatch everyone. Then Snurl, the undead king, resumes his reign of terror on My Hill.

I use Heavens magic to remove the undead from

My Hill

I use Kitten magic to overwhelm you all with the urge to pet my adorable Kitten army. You all find yourselves stuck cuddling Kittens on

My Hill

I donate bags of Kitten Chow and Cat treats along with catnip mice and feather toys. Happy Thanksgiving, Dakka, wherever you are.

(relentless violence to resume on Friday)

I bring the eight-legged turkey of Tzeentch, some mashed potatoes from Nurgle's garden, Khorne on the cob, and some decadent dessert of Slaanesh.
I even invite jhe90 and Warboss Dakka (why not?) to the Thanksgiving feast on

The hill.

What do you mean "why not?" Being British I'll eat my scones instead.

Happy thanksgiving, I guess.

The Hill

Remove your foul British food from

America's Hill

My Hill.

You get jealous over Tau FW weapons.

My Hill

Except the tau just got double 6'd by a wraithknight

Because eldar are king
On my hill

There is no dawn.
Black clouds cover the sky while Tau, Space Marines, Orks and Kittens slumber. Stuffed from their feast, blissfully unaware of the evil that has befallen them. Demons attack in the pitch black fog; the senseless slaughter is legendary.
To this day, it is still known as Black Friday, on My Hill.

DEATH IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR!
Snurl and his foul legions are banished, and the servants of the Imperium rule on


The Emperor`s Hill

The Kitten army wakes from it's slumber, and Ember Lord's forces are swept away by the adorable tide

My Hill

I summon an inferno to burn all the enemy forces on

My Hill

The tears of the Emperor douse the flames on My Hill.

I trudge through the morass of soggy, charred kitten remains and plant my flag atop



My hill.

A tsunami of custard wipes the hill cleans nd I claim it.

Grab a chair and sit down eating some custard