A Space Wolf asks one of his Chapters Rune Priests for a private audience. In the latter's chamber, the Marine confesses:" Brother Rune Priest, while I do love the God-Emperor as my father, I . . . also have taken to loving my wolf." The Rune Priest, with no sign of surprise, simply asks "How often?"
A classic one: As I always say, Khârn the Betrayer was pretty fun to be around, and contrary to popular belief he actually had a sense of humor as well. Probably the best example was in the middle of the campaign during a sweeping of an Imperial Guard command post, with Khorne Berserkers and our Red Rivers company marching directly into the defensive fire. The closer we got, the more apparent it became that the only thing holding the Guardsmen together was a grizzled looking Commissar in full uniform, one gun turned on us and another firing on any of his men who looked like running. Khârn was at the tip of the assault, and so he got to the Commissar first, plucking the screaming officer up by the neck and holding him over his head. Then, out of nowhere one of the other berserkers grabs the Commissar's legs and roars "MAKE A WISH!". Well, as you can imagine everyone on both sides forgets about the fight, and watches Khârn and this other Khorne-worshiping marine just start pulling on this Commissar at both ends, the old man screaming out oaths and curses like you wouldn't believe! You could almost hear the sound of flesh tearing and bone snapping over the cheering. Then, Khârn just let go. Totally not expecting it and pulling with all his might, the Khorne Berserker just falls backwards and starts tumbling with the near dead Commissar into a damaged hellhound, his armor grating off it and sparking! Well, after the explosion we all turned back to Khârn, who had managed to keep a hold of the Commissar's fancy hat. Ol' Khârn put it on, and damned if it wasn't the funniest thing any of us had ever seen... till he turned to us and bellowed "I'M THE NEW COMMISSAR" at us. They tell me five thousand traitor guardsmen died that day before someone could take that hat off him. What a kidder!
Old joke I know from a long time ago. Shamelessly twisted to fit into 40k: In a freak warp storm, Leman Russ and his retinue emerge from the immaterium on the fringes of Titan. In a fit of whimsy the Grey Knights elect to not shoot down his battle barge and instead offer Russ safe harbour. The primarch marches into their fortress monastery, eager to impress all who are near. After introductions are made, the Space Wolf immediately sets out to do what any rational Space Wolf would do, get drunk. Upon arriving at what passes for a Grey Knight tavern and sampling a little of the local vintage, Russ notices the finest suit of terminator armor in the corner, covered from head to toe with purity seals; so many purity seals that only shape and size led him to assume that it was, in fact, terminator armor. "What's the deal with all the purity seals?" Russ asked. The barkeep replied, "Ah, yes. It was once said that the armor of the most pure would be given only to the man who was able to complete each of the three sacred challenges. Few know that our order requires that all neophytes pass the 666 Rituals of Detestation, yet none have ever finished the final three." Rising to the challenge, Russ inquired further, "What are the final three barkeep? I'm not afraid." The bar erupted with laughter from the Grey Knights on the periphery. The barkeep finally replied, "I should warn you, we keep daemons around for ritual name calling. To claim the suit for your own you must first go into the next room and punch a Great Unclean One in the face; that is the first challenge." Russ sported a smug grin, but was headed off by the barkeep. "The second trial," he replied, "is to go to the adjacent room and face a bloodthirster barehanded. Now this is no ordinary bloodthirster, for one of his teeth is damaged. The second task is to leave the room alive with the tooth." Slightly dismayed at the presence of multiple daemons, Russ asked the barkeep to continue. "The third and final task is to go upstairs where we are keeping a daemonette of Slaanesh. You must... well, how to say this... you have to ha... satisf... well... you get the point." Russ guffawed. "You want me to do what with a daemon? And this isn't heresy?" he roared. "No, we Grey Knights strive to... dominate... the daemons in every way," corrected the barkeep. After this fateful encounter Russ kept to himself and his men, only casting sideways looks at the Grey Knights around him. After four days of alcohol induced viking celebration (violence), Russ got his beer muscles up and charged toward the bar. "TAKE ME TO THE UNCLEAN ONE!" he roared. He had barely crossed the threshold of the door before he lept and bitch-slapped the daemon of nurgle so hard he removed the plague in eight systems. "TAKE ME TO THE BLOODTHIRSTER!" he cried. The windowless door to the Bloodthirster's room was barely open long enough for Russ to slip through it before it was slammed shut and locked again. Hours passed. The room shook and the door nearly slammed off its hinges. Hours and hours of roaring, fighting, and whimpering, then finally silence. The Grey Knights unlocked the door and cautiously peered in. Leman Russ stepped out naked, covered in blood, scratches, and bruises and yelled, "TAKE ME TO SLAANESHI DAEMON WITH THE LOOSE TOOTH!!"
