Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

I had a very fun idea lately, I thougth I should post a story and the next one to post must continue it.
Here is the begining of the story:

For months there has been no folk in the town of Aurax on planet Stirdia IV (Studor system) it is not sure why but alien witnesses believe that it has got to do with extrateresteal means.
There has been an expedition into the town but none have come back so far.
The last thing that was heard from them was something abbout rapid plant growth and strange mutated creatures.
The expedition consisted of five people, they are all believed to be dead.

Okay now it's up to the next dakka user who will post to continue the story.

Back at mission HQ, the Commander was angry because the toilet paper had run out again.

“Where’s the quartermaster sergeant?” he shouted. “I demand an immediate explanation.”

The QM Sgt. appeared quickly.

“Sir,” he began, “the shortage of toilet paper is due to termite infestation of the QA stores warehouse. I have put in a requisition for an exterminator.”

The Commander quickly signed the req for the exterminator, and another req for 500 tons of toilet paper.

"When will this damn, dirty war be finished?" he thought.

"We need to send another team to find them!" Bo Jenkins banged his fist on the table
as his voice boomed over the arguing in the meeting room.

"Stupid, bossy Americans" thought Shamus Finnegan, and gestured to quiet the room. At 6 foot 4 inches
he had a commanding demeanor and quickly got everyone's attention. "He has a point, we need to find
out what has happened."

"And feed more to the ravenous horde?" exclaimed bob the barkeep, his voice cracking like a teenager.

"Nay, to slay the leader and stop this infestation before it overtakes us all." a voice that grated like
gravel in a tin cup came from a dark corner of the room. The crowd parted as everyone looked to
find the source of that voice. A figure in a dark cloak with a hood covering his face sat hunched
in a corner booth. "Look outside and you'll see proof that you need action soon."

People crowded around the door as Alyra Helmsmutter, a fierce warrior no one would
think to insult for her gender, opened it. The cold night air rushed in and they gasped as
the dim light revealed...

(next!)

In the distance, barely audible above the eerily still twilight came the sound of uncounted scuttling feet or claws over the hills. As the sound slowly grew in volume and definition, Alyra slammed the door shut and turned to face the assembled warriors who stood stock-still, listening desperately.
"There is no time to evacuate, we must get a message out before this position is overrun." Alyra strode to the back of the room where a radio set waited, ready for their final testament. She reached rudely past the startled operator and slammed the headset on her head, aggressively turning knobs and adjusting settings.
"You have no authority to speak for us! Stand down or so help me I'll--" As Shamus Finnegan made great strides toward the radio, a sound from the rapidly darkening night outside silenced them all except Alyra. It was a shrill screeching, answered by a low hissing that came from everywhere.
"There is some sort of interference. We are alone." Alyra stood and turned to face the door, dropping the headset to the floor as the last light of day turned to black.

"We're all going to die!" squeaked bob the bartender.

"There's only one door into this building. Set up a fire zone around it, quick!" grated the cloaked stranger.

"Flip over those tables." ordered Shamus. "Do as the stranger said. It's our best chance to survive."

The room as a chaos of furniture being moved and weapons being loaded and prepared.

"Alright, who the hell are you?" Shamus turned to the stranger.

Standing up to a full seven feet of height, the stranger pulled off his cloak, revealing...

A grinning skeletal face bored into Shamus. The figure was covered in black plates of an intriguing design and held by his side a massive weapon of equal oddity. A topknot of purple hair sprouted from his scalp.

"I will answer your question only if you wish to be devoured by them," He pointed to the view screen. "This outpost must not fall," His grinning lips did not move as he spoke. His voice was deep and muffled as if he wore a mask yet his voice contained a certain resonance as if he were speaking with his mind.
Deftly swinging his queer gun into hand he stared unflinchingly at the oncoming horde.

"Well, as long as we have another gun with us I can't argue. You three heard the man - thing, hold the building," Shamus grinned, his resolve bolstered at the stranger's over sized gun.

"If us five ever get through this I'm transferring to an Agri-farm," cried Jenkins.

Come on guys! continue Da Story!!!!

As the door rumbled insanely, The barkeep cocked his arbite- issuded shot gun and rested it on the table. only seconds later a bright green blur broke through the door, and with a loud thump the cloaked stranger shot out his arm and shot at the blur with his weapon. The Arbites gasped as the thing combusted, leaving no trace but a large green stain on the polished wood floor.

Within seconds an entire unit of Adeptus Janitorius Acolytes entered the room. A multitude of colorful fluids and viscus substances flowed through their unkempt bionics. The baffled hero watched in amazement as the calculated and methodical cleaning and removal was executed with a zealous fervor by these "Sons of Mr. Clean" as they called themselves. Upon the swift exit of the cyborg creatures, the final one to leave paused at the remains of the half-unhinged door. A servo-arm pulled out a small oily looking cloth and proceeded to apply a generous luster and elbow grease combination upon the tarnished surface of the archaic door fastening known as a "knob" until it glowed with a mirror sheen. The bartender chuckled quietly to himself....

as he fondled a baby squig

With an old english style quip the squig lamented about a forgotten age long since past....

However he is interupted when bursting through the window landing in a combat roll on the floor and springing back up on his feet we see the Quartermaster SGT.

He cocks his shot gun and announces, "I have come for the toiletpaper." He pauses "And termite killer if you got it."