agentmanatee

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@BCTheEntity don't worry I'm sure you won't end up with more limbs... or less organs... or something much, much worse. The doctor is completely sane

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@BCTheEntity don't worry the... 'doctor' will be joining you today

In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)

Varrin Krowe

Name: Varrin Krowe

Age: 382 Standard Terran years

Appearance: Varrin is an old veteran, having served in the Raven Guard for well over three centuries now and it shows. His face is a webbing of scars and marks, three honor studs dot his brow and surprisingly he has no cybernetics. His hair is black, but with many streaks of gray from age. kept slicked back and close against his skull but not cropped or shaved like many other marines. His body is similarly scarred, burns and old gashes long since scarred over. His armor is an old suit of Heresy pattern Power Armor, an honor gained by his actions during the siege of Hive Velix where the Chaplain Preached the teachings of Corx whilst leading a strikeforce to break the decades long siege. Its helm painted a skull like all chaplains, his shoulder recently repainted to show his new chapters sigil.

Desired position: Reclusiarch

Equipment: Mark V Power armor (full set), Crozius Arcanum, Frag and Krak grenades, 'The Ravens Fury' - A relic Plasma pistol given as a badge of office from the Raven Guards Reclusiam to mark his new position within the Celestial Falcons. The Plasma pistol does not draw from power cells like most standard versions, instead it is designed to connect to a larger, more powerful battery attached to a Marines power pack and fueled by a combination of its nuclear battery and excess heat. designed during the Heresy specifically to exploit the over heating issue common among Mark V armors. Connected to the battery through a system of tubes through which the deadly, white hot plasma is transported. While more powerful and with a larger clip size than a regular plasma pistol, it is far more volatile and heats up far quicker.

Abilities, Psychic or otherwise: Varrin is a powerful Close quarters combatant and Orator, like all Chaplains, he is also a staunch traditionalist. He beleives that the ways of their Primarch Corvus Corax are best, training heavily in the stealth and subterfuge used heavily within the Raven Guard. As a heavy Proponent and well traveled veteran Krowe is more than talented in the ways of the Raven Guard, a powerful skulker and stealthy warrior to a fault.

Personal History: Varrin Krowe is a distinguished warrior. He has served with the Reclusiam of the Raven Guard for nearly his entire career, an ever faithful and stalwart Chaplain he cut his teeth fighting the forces of Chaos, Night Lords. His oration, zealous demeanor and superior skills led the Raven Guard to victory and earned him his first scars. Since then he has stood sentinel at many of the Raven Guards most desperate theaters of war. Infiltrating planets held by chaos and ending their occupation, fighting on worlds in the center of charging Ork WAAAAAGHS!!! and hunting down their leadership. More recently he has taken part in hunting Tyranid Leadership, having recently returned from a successful raid against a Splinter fleet, having personally led team into one of the great Tyranid flesh ships to strike at its very heart. He is well known for daring and risky missions, some claiming the Chaplain has a fatalistic personality.

Regardless, upon his return it was decided he would take the role of Reclusiarch for the Newly formed Celestial Falcons, as out of the Reclusiam it was beleived he could best fit the new chapter. At first Varrin was ecstatic, until he met the new 'Lord Commander'. A traditionalist, he did not agree with the direction the Marine wished to take the Celestial Falcons in. Regardless, as a sign of good faith and a devotion to duty, he accepted the position still. He hopes to sway the Lord Commander away from his radical ideals and back to the ways of Corax

In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)

Head chaplain/reclusiarch checking in

In the Emperor's name We shall not falter

I would like to take either the role of Head Chaplain or a Veteran Sergeant

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

So uh... who's working on a post?

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Did it

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

An unfortunate arrival

The warp, the Imaterium, a deadly and mysterious place where thought was made reality. Not a place one would want to hurtle through in a heavily damaged ship, which was the situation Azazel and his disciples were currently in. The Strike cruiser that had carried him and his steadily shrinking retinue had made one last hop to warp, attempting to escape their previous pursuers in spite of the blood the marines sought. Once a brotherhood of about thirty marines now they numbered five. The bridge was covered in corpses and spattered heavily with blood as the five Corsairs panted shudderingly, some grasping at their skulls. Bravis stood stock still in the center of the bridge, two dead Corsairs on either side of his feet. Azazel himself stood amongst the torn wreckage of what was once a Captains chair, now a twisted and ruined mess of leather and steel. His chain-sword idled, still dripping blood while his boltguns barrel still smoked. His blood spattered helm was focused on the large bridge window, looking out into the roiling empyrean as he panted heavily...

'Screams... blood... blood screams... quiet now... ggrrrrrrr... pounding ears... increased heart rates... still... need... relief... subjects...', he glanced about the bridge as his thoughts encroached in on him once more. All their foes were dead, only his pupils remained... subjects... no. Even the surgeries could not force him to butcher his own students and he had not the time for tests now. He stepped from raised dais down onto the deck proper. What Mortal crew still lived seemed quite injured... but they were not finished.

"Sssstaus flesh! Now!", the Dark Apothecary growled to any human able to respond.

"S-s-ship in warp transit L-lord Azazel... Gellar fields f-failing... destination unsure, y-you had us jump withou-"

The marine snarled and smashed a fist into the panel next to the sniveling human, "Who-who ordered a random jump?!", he said, glaring through his helmet at the man who shied away from the Chaos Space marine. "y-you did sir after k-k-kil-ing the c-c-c-c-c-aptain..."

Azazel glanced back at the Captains chair, now seeing the horrendously ruined body which he had no doubt trampled upon heavily to get down to the crew pit. Slowly it came back to him between shattered memories that were not his...

'C-captain refused order... s-suicide it was... crushed bod- BLOOD BLOOD BLOO- body... paste... BLOOD... sh=ship jumped... th-then FOR BADAB AND HURON!', the last was his, on the eve of Badabs siege... he thought... or maybe it was someone else? Where was he?

He looked around the bridge... he was on a ship... in the warp... they were going t-

Suddenly everything stopped. A great, loud sound of tearing steel and smashing bulk-heads bled the ears of every human still alive as the cacophony filled the air. The Marines mag locked their boots on instinct, humans were not so lucky. Any not strapped in flew at intense speed against walls, consoles and even the bridge window. They screamed as bones and organs were pulped in an instant from the extreme and sudden loss of speed. By the time the stretching, screaming metal had settled no humans were left alive on the bridge as those strapped in were folded around their restraints like so much paper. The bridge window strained and warped before popping, scything glass shredding any nearby humans and scratching astartes power armor.

Azael looked once more at the window... battle!

Bolters... fire... screams and shouts... he saw them, a group of lifeforms now just outside the window. The ship had re-materalised inside of another ship and now they were right next to a fight.

"SCREAMING BLOOD! IT FILLS MY HEAD! STOP STOP IT!", Azazel screamed out through his vox. The pounding in his ears... it was back. His head was flush, it was pounding like ten thousand drums. Blood screaming... he had to release it. They had to lose blood!

"IT MUST BE SILEEEENNCCCCEEED!", his war-cry was taken up by his pupils, five Marines rushing through the now broken bridge window into the room of the Space hulk, blades and barrels raised for combat. Azazel and his pupils charged the zealous sisters, screaming their oaths for blood and screams. Azazel answered their fire with his own, using one hand he emptied what was left of his clip into the sisters, firing wildly into the group as he closed the distance, whirring blade seeking purchase.

It found it, tugging deep into one of the power armoured women, chewing through her abdomen and spraying gore as guts were ripped out with a scream. Azazel wheeled around to her once more, cracking his power armoured knee against her face-plate, cracks spider-webbing along it from the point of impact.

"DIE CORPSE WORSHIPPERS! DIE AND QUIET THE SCREAMING BLOOD! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!", he cackled as his pupils rushed their own targets. From one combat to another, with more screaming, foul blood.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@BCTheEntity writing it now!

Also just noticed something interesting

Azazel and his pupils are the only modern marines here

You guys have ALOT to catch up on

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@BCTheEntity what do you mean a 'non-starter'?

@Wraithblade6 You should

Also, anyone have an idea for introducing him into this that makes sense?