Suspects and Traitors
The mind of a man is a place most odd, while there is forever the yearning for being free, there is yet also the complacency of being shackled, of being controlled. Most are happy to live their lives in such a dull slumbering mass such as this, a constant state of suppression and control wherein they are thought for, told what to do...who to worship, who to like, who to fight even...
Not you, it would seem however. Branded a heretic and sentenced to death, that is the only course of action for you and all your wretched kind. All because you thought freely, perused paths that humanity believed to be barred and gated off. Some of you, may not have even strayed from the true path and yet face judgement... It matters little to the executioner, especially on a day such as this. When else do you get to send several space marines to their doom?
Not you, it would seem however. Branded a heretic and sentenced to death, that is the only course of action for you and all your wretched kind. All because you thought freely, perused paths that humanity believed to be barred and gated off. Some of you, may not have even strayed from the true path and yet face judgement... It matters little to the executioner, especially on a day such as this. When else do you get to send several space marines to their doom?
“The weak will always be led by the strong. Where the strong see purpose and act, the weak follow; where the strong cry out against fate, the weak bow their heads and succumb. There are many who are weak; and many are their temptations. Despise the weak for they shall flock to the call of the Daemon and the Renegade. Pity them not and scorn their cries of innocence - it is better that one hundred innocently fall before the wrath of the Emperor than one kneels before the Daemon.” - Realm of Chaos: Slaves to Darkness, P.230
Introduction:
It is the grim future of the 41st millennium, the Imperium of Mankind currently sits as the single most dominant power in the whole universe. Vast, endless armies and untold billions of world are all held under it's sway. But it is assailed upon all sides and even from within, as both the forces of Xenos and daemon seek to destroy humanity.
You are all Space Marines, the genetically enhanced super-soldiers of the Imperium of Mankind. Either through chance or your own infernal action, you have been found and justly accused of heretical actions that go against the God-Emperor of Mankind. You were all once formerly of proud chapters, with long legacies stretching back for generations, but that ends here. All allegiances have been cut, all former battle-brothers will not even look in your general direction. You are truly an ousted member of the proud company you once formed. Now, you have nothing, you are but a husk of a man, a husk of a warrior.
Under any normal circumstances, there would only be instant death for you all, administered through the barrel of a bolt pistol or through, worse means if you were particularly unlucky as to have been captured. But there is some small glimmer of hope. Dragged forth from the holding cells of the Ordo Hereticus in chains, you were brought before several of the most powerful men in the Imperium, and they decided you fate for you...
And this is where you all come in. You are these castaway marines, those heretics, those traitors. You are wholly considered heretical and otherwise enemies of the Imperium. You will each play as one of these marines, sent upon a suicide mission into an unknown region of space under the guise of recovering an ancient Necron artifact....
Rules:
I shouldn't need to tell you these...
Character Sheets:
Additional Information:
The way I handle the lore is somewhat different compared to that of the offical stuff. Generally, I do not make the universe quick as...grimderp, as it were. Armies do not die in meat grinders akin to Stalingrad quite so lightly, and chapters of marines are larger. Technology is also not regressing, but is mostly stagnant.
