Top Five Tau Threads
Top Five non-Tau Topics this Month
Sergeant Frank Drebin is currently the longest serving global moderator. Starting with his original persona of "Farseer Del", Del has now moved through many, many different display names (and is currently assuming command of the Naked Gun main-man ;-)). Del was actually within the first ten members to join Tau Online; he's been a member for almost 4.5 years now!
(Q) What attracted you to this site and how have you found it so far?
A: I was brought to the site when it was just starting off, around 2003 back in the proboards days. I wandered along from, what was then Eldar Online, and by the time the forum moved along to the current iteration, I was a GMod.
The site's overall growth has been most impressive to me: In just over three years, TO's became one of the largest and most frequently visited Tau-related sites online. It's remained what it started as: A friendly community for all comers.
(Q) Which armies do you collect, how big are they and how long has it taken to accumlate them?
A: I have roughly four thousand points worth of Eldar, Two thousand of Chaos and Space Marines, and about 1500 of Tau. The last three armies have all shown up over the last four years, and the Eldar army was slowly built up since 1999 or thereabouts
(Q) Any advice for the rest of the community?
A: Never be afraid to experiment with a battle plan that could have the risk of hilarious failure. After all, you're there to have fun if you're doing the game properly.
(Q) Do androids dream of electric sheep?
A: I hear sheep have nightmares about John Barrowman, and that androids dream of being John Barrowman, so presumably there's a link.
(Q) Why Farseer Del?
A: Eldar were my first army, Del is basically my real name. It writes itself. Then it got silly with the name changes...
(Q) What got you into the 40k game?
A: Saw the brightly painted pretty models at the age of 10-ish and proceeded to superglue a vyper to my finger. What fun.
(Q) If you would have to pick one quote from movie, book, etc. what would it be, and why would you pick that(why would you think it is "cool")?
A: Either "There is always risk. Like getting up in the morning and crossing the street... Or putting your face in a fan." as it's a nice summary of things. or "Mister Witt, when I have the impertinence to climb into your pulpit and deliver a sermon, then you may tell me my duty." from Zulu, as it's a nice way of saying to keep to your own role and don't butt in elsewhere. Or "If complete and utter chaos was lightning, then he'd be the sort to stand on a hilltop in a thunderstorm wearing wet copper armour and shouting 'All gods are bastards'." from The Colour of Magic, because Discworld is awesome. Or...
(Q) What kind of animals do you own, and if you don't, what would be your perfect pet to have?
A: I have a cat, but I really want a Siberian Howling Grenadier Hamster someday.
(Q) Do you see double?
(Q) Do you see double?
(Q) Do you see double?
No. I see triple.
- Tau Online
Special Feature-Length Fluff by Farseer Tyross
The morning sky was a deep shade of blue with lines of crimson fading into light reds as one sun rose and a few minutes later, a second. A cold wind swept up the street, filling his nostrils with the tinge of a chill and Tiberius Holt smiled to himself. It was quite in this early in the morning, the wide streets and plazas would be filled with merchants and businessmen by midday and Holt savoured the early morning stillness with relish.
Turning away from the scene of the raising suns, he strolled up the street, letting the wind toy with his dark green cloak like an invisible hand. He strolled past shuttered windows, barred gates and numerous shops selling a variety of wares and consumables, and Holt lingered for a few moments outside the store front of perhaps his most favourite shop on the entire of Tarsiss III.
Casting his gaze into the window, he saw a motley collection of trinkets and past them were the carefully lined racks of weaponry. Amongst their many items, Holt could squarely see the epitome of the shops inventory, held aloft on suspensor fields and covered by a glass covering, no doubt linked directly to the shops surveillance systems. Contained in the glass case was a single example of the art of the Adeptus Mechanicus given form, an ancient relic from the Horus Heresy and a deadly, compact weapon like no other. It contained a plasma pistol, white lined and well maintained, and beneath it two vials of the sanctified plasma canisters it used as ammo.
Holt had often dreamed of holding such a refined weapon, but his meagre budget would never stretch that far. He was already holding down one job to make ends meat and the prize tag of the plasma pistol was more then most of Holt's contemporaries made in their lifetimes.
Turning around to go to work at last, Holt made one glance back at the weapon shop before finally setting off down the street.
Work was dull and boring, as it always was. Busy customers were far too busy to come and talk, only intent upon their next purchase, of which Holt had more then a few wares and products people required. He eked out a reasonable living selling meat to passing trade and exotic cheeses, off world vegetables and various other items that he thought his customers would be interested in.
During his off hours, Holt would take a stroll back to the gun shop and peruse their lines of smaller weaponry, auto pistols, small repeater pistols and occasionally ventured into the rifle isle.
But today was different. He had allowed himself to take a small cut of the day's profits, and funnel it away from his business. It was a careful balancing act between staying afloat in the ebb and flow of the Tarsissian market trade, and the takings had been good today, and so he had decided to treat himself.
"Can I help you sir?" chimed the clerk.
"I would like to buy a pistol, but I'd like to try a few before committing myself" replied Holt, dropping a few coins onto the counter as he spoke.
"As you wish sir. You know the way by now to the range upstairs" replied the clerk as he slid out of the way, allowing Holt access to behind the counter and up the gloomy stairs beyond.
"Thank you" Holt said before disappearing up the set of creaky old stairs.
It was a well light room, with a row of gun alleys. Holt reached for a set of ear defenders out of habit, and put them on as he strolled casually up the corridor behind the gun range, as he did so, he nodded to a few people he knew from his previous visits and took his position in the second to last isle. A short stubby weapon was already waiting for him there, and Holt knew the weapon well, and after a few minutes, the clerk appeared behind him.
Arrayed on a tray, he presented Holt with a selection of small weapons, mainly pistols. Each weapon was lacking their magazines, of which Holt saw were hanging from a belt the clerk wore. Picking a smallish weapon, Holt was then given the corresponding clip and he slid it into place after a few seconds of thought, ending in a nice click as the catches engaged.
Switching the safety off as he spun around, he brought the weapon's metal sights up to eye level and he squeezed the trigger. The pistol barked and the recoil was larger then Holt had expected and Holt lowered the weapon back to where it was only a few seconds before.
"Nice weapon, recoil's a bitch" he commented, firing another metal slug down the range. "Accuracies poor as well."
"How about this sir" the clerk said into a tiny vox pickup which was relayed to Holt through his ear defenders.
It took Holt a few seconds to find the clip release and he pulled the slide back to expel the chambered shell. Handing it both parts of the weapon back, Holt was given a slightly longer weapon and form the length, Holt figured it was probably silenced.
Sliding the magazine back into position again, he pulled the trigger after and the weapon hissed as the built-in silencer muffled the bark of the bullet.
"Definitely an improvement on the last one" Holt mused, "what's the stop power like?"
"It can stop an Ogryn with a full clip" the clerk returned, a sly smile crossing his lips.
"Leave me with this one" Holt said, firing off a few more shots down the range.
Holt was more then an hour as he repeatedly fired the pistol, getting to know the intricacies of its recoil, clip operation and various other nuances to weapons.
Returning down stairs to pay for the weapon, Holt was greeted with someone looking over the plasma pistol he had always admired. It was a stern looking man, in his late nineties and with an augmented hand which was occasionally lifted to the man's face to itch an old scar which ran down his left cheek.
"I'll like to pay for this" Holt said to the clerk, but he never took his attention off the stranger admiring the plasma pistol.
Placing the weapon down on the counter, Holt withdrew a small pouch from his rear pocket, and placed it on the table. The clerk picked the pouch up, opened the top and glanced inside. A small flicker of a smile crossed the clerks face and then nodded to Holt, but his eyes were elsewhere.
"Your payment is accepted, Mister Holt" the clerk voiced finally, and Holt's attention snapped back to the clerk. "Will you need any more bullets?"
"Yes, I'll take two boxes" Holt replied before wandering over to the stranger.
"Beautiful isn't it?" Holt asked.
"It is, although the Mk II's were always a little bit touché if their canisters weren't installed correctly" the stranger replied.
"Are you planning on buying that one?" Holt asked.
"Not really, since I own an Mk III inferno pistol" the stranger replied.
It was three days until Holt saw the stranger again. It was a late night in a local bar that Holt routinely haunted. He had ordered two local ales, but his friend he was planning on meeting didn't turn up, and in the time Holt had been waiting, he had drunk his own ale and was considering owning a second when the stranger from the gun shop entered the bar. He wore a dark cloak which concealed much of his frame with his head was exposed, and around his waist was a row of beads.
Holt saw the stranger glance around the bar, but he quickly gave up looking around after a minute or two.
‘May as well' Holt mused to himself as he waved the stranger over.
"Want a free beer?" Holt asked.
"Just why would I want a free beer?" asked the stranger in return.
"Well, my friend stood me up, and by the looks of it, so did yours" Holt mused. "Besides I knew you had good taste when I saw you admiring that plasma pistol" Holt smiled.
"I'm not here for pleasure" retorted the stranger.
"Me neither, if it was just pleasure I was after I would be in the local Sororitas Convent sleeping with sisters" Holt retorted "but we make do with what we got. Do you want the free beer or not?"
"I'll take it since your being so insistent" said the stranger, sitting down beside.
"You sit there and drink it whilst I get myself another" Holt said whilst getting up to go to the bar. Before he could even reach the bar, the barmaid were already pulling him a fresh ale and by the time he reached the bar, she had placed his drink down on the wooden faced bar and Holt took it whilst dropping two coins onto the counter before nodding.
Something caught his eye as he turned to return to the table. Something wasn't quite right about one of the people stood at the bar. The way the shadows moved across the person's back hinted at something utterly alien beneath the person's casual attire.
Thinking not much of it, Holt returned to the table where the stranger was still sat at, slowly emptying his tanker of ale.
"What's wrong?" the stranger replied out of turn.
"Huh, what?" Holt snapped.
"You look like you've seen an alien or something" the stranger shot back.
"In all honesty, I think I've seen a twist, but I doubt he'd be an alien" Holt said, without realising what he was actually saying.
"Right, I think it's time I made a move, thanks for the drink" the stranger said before finishing off his drink.
"But you've just got here" Holt snapped as the stranger sat up from his seat and took a step.
"I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a few minutes yet" the stranger replied over his shoulder. Holt watched as the stranger crossed the floor towards the bar where he had just been served. Something about his manor, the way he walked was different. Holt could just tell.
Holt watched the stranger stop at the bar, and produce something from his pocket. All of a sudden the bar erupted into chaos and Holt heard the stranger declare in a loud voice "You are all under arrest in the name of the holy Inquisition!"
From seemingly out of nowhere, a group stood by the bar produced weapons and without even realising it, Holt found he had reached for his own weapon from its concealed holster.
Holt shot the first to lunge through the side of the head with his silenced pistol, and he saw the stranger duck under a number of punches and bladed weapons. Holt shot another as he ran across the bar towards the stranger, and quickly turned to face another attack from behind him. Holt narrowly missed getting his lacerated as he leapt aside in his seat as a bladed talon swung down heavily beside him. Holt was quick to kill his attacker with cluster of shots to the head.
By that time, the stranger had already drawn his pistol and Holt cursed as the pistol unleashed a beam of pure energy ahead of itself, vaporising two of his attackers instantly, and Holt shot another in the chest as he tried to run towards him with two sets of arms clearly visible. It was only then that Holt saw the true horror of what he had executed. One set of arms ended in normal human hands, whilst the second set ended in three sharp talons.
Holt turned his attention to another group of rushing monsters as they surged out of a couple of doors at the rear of the bar, tearing the barmaid to pieces as they barrelled past intent upon killing.
Holt emptied his clip into the group of monsters and stared in morbid fascination as surrounded the stranger. Talons, teeth and claws thundered towards stranger, but Holt breathed a sign of relief as the stranger was saved by a shimmering field of pure force. Time and time again, the monsters tried to penetrate the field which surrounded the stranger but just couldn't. Holt reloaded his pistol, content with picking them off at will whilst they gorged themselves on the seemingly invulnerable stranger.
Within moments, the fighting was over and Holt had run dry of bullets. They stood alone in the bar, fleshy ruin all around them. Despite the field, Holt could see that the stranger was hurt, a number of large gashes had been rent into his flesh and he was bleeding badly.
Holstering his weapons and rushing over quickly, Holt caught the stranger mid-fall and helped him back onto a bar stool. Tearing strips off the clothing of from a number of corpses around, Holt tried to stem the worst of the bleeding, but he knew he was only buying time in doing so.
"We have to get you to the medae" Holt breathed "do you have transport?"
"I have… a staff transport" the stranger managed and Holt helped him to his feet, aided him across the blood streaked floor and out the door.
A few metres above the bar was indeed a black vehicle. From the looks of it, the stranger was undoubtedly a wealthy individual as at the sight of the stranger, a black and light grey dressed man got out of the car and ushered over to the pair.
Holt felt the deep set eyes of the driver as he helped the wounded man into the car and took a seat beside him.
"To Medae Primaris" Holt stated flatly to the driver as he got back into the driver's seat.
"I do not take orders from you" the driver replied, coldly.
"If you do not the Inquisitor will die."
"Do as he says, take me to the medae" the wounded man breathed and without further pause the engine started.
It was a full day before Holt could see the Inquisitor after the medics had seen to his wounds and replaced the dressings. In that time Holt had gone home, and had got a nights rest before returning in the morning to the Medae Primaris.
He found the room were the Inquisitor had been given, but it was empty. Pinned to the bed was a small slip of paper, and Holt walked over, removed the note and glanced at the elegant script on the front leaf.
Holt it read, and he smiled as he broke the seal and unfolded the message.
We must all make choices in His service and it has come to one such decision. It deeply saddens me that I was unable to be there when you receive this message, but such is the life of a humble servant.
However, I have seen the need to extend my knowledge to another, and given your proven skills in the bar, I feel you are the right man for the job I have in mind.
If you are interested, I'll be at the gun shop where we first met at sixteen hundred hours today. Do not be late.
Yours in his light,
Signed Inquisitor Ugenti Hurro
The gun shop was a changed place. Holt waited for the Inquisitor whilst perusing the many wares it offered, idling away the time. He had got there fifteen minutes before the deadline that the Inquisitor had set and he had already waited twenty minutes when the Inquisitor walked in.
"Nice to see you again, Holt" he said as he walked over to where the plasma pistol was still displayed. Sliding a leathered hand across the glass cover, Hurro slid the front glass panel out, and reached in for the pistol. Holt exchanged a brief glance at the attendant clerk, but he didn't even react to the Inquisitors odd action.
"You're not allowed to take that weapon" Holt managed, the disbelief playing upon his face.
"It has already been bought and paid for" Hurro replied as he withdrew the weapon and slid a canister of plasma into one of the two induction ports. "And what of my proposition?"
"To become part of your staff?" Holt asked.
"At the start, yes" said Hurro.
"What do you mean at the star?"
"I have grander things in mind for you then being a mere hired gun. I can get plenty of them, and if I do say so myself, I can hire thugs with more finesse" Hurro said.
"I don't think I'm Inquisitor material" Holt managed.
"I know you are, and I am a good judge of character. Although you are hiding something from which you're not even aware of. And your combat skills are impressive since you lack formal training" Hurro said without breaking eye contact.
"I just find it ironic that usually Inquisitors are out hunting you, trying to pin as a heretic and now you're here saying I could become an Inquisitor" Holt replied with a small wry smile.
"So is my offer accepted?"
"It is, Inquisitor"
Hurro glanced down at the pistol still in his hand, but his gaze quickly returned to Holt "well, it is an old tradition, and best not to break it I think."
"And what tradition are you referring to?"
"The one your about to take part in" Hurro smiled. "Tiberius Holt, will you take this plasma pistol as a gift between me to you?" Hurro held the pistol with his left hand whilst he removed his right from the pistol grip and offered it out for Holt to grip.
"It will be my honour, Inquisitor."
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