Al

Valiant Heroes, Vile Heresies [Warhammer 40,000 Death Watch]

puu.sh/pGAI0/786343d8eb.png
14

Imperium [Warhammer 40,000 Only War]

Mikail sat with a grin befitting a fool. He was painstakingly listening to all that occurred around him, listening to the plights of others with rapt fascination. So much so that he openly ignored the positive situations like a plague of language. He was splendid in his uniform, however, his ushanka sitting atop his head like some great bear within its lair, resting. Peering outside the window and at the masses of destruction about the ship, he simply sighed and said with unwavering belief. “Look! It is a nice day out today!” The genuine excitement of his voice was almost palpable, in such stark contrast to the very real hell that took place outside the walls of the aircraft. Such was his boundless excitement that he grinned like a complete moron, eyeing each individual body and piece of debris like they were still splendid in their appearance and life. “Oh look! Is Petrov! Or, the body of! But doesn't matter, he seems happy as is.”

Shifting about in his seat, Mikail looked dead at the commissar and smiled, where others saw such an act as downright dangerous, the Valhallan did it unflinchingly, yet not provocatively in the least. He stated with boundless glee. “The commissars on the home world are such delightful people, even when shooting of own men begins they are always so eager! I tell one of other officers, however, and I end up here. Ah. Life is good in that way I tell you. Not to mention that Dima stole commissar Kubachev's hat. That was hilarious.”

He didn't even seem to care when the side of the aircraft was ripped open! He simply gazed at it like a brand new window for which the turmoil of the outside could spill out in all their radiance. “If you look carefully! You see beautiful wildlife!” He gave a warming chuckle after this, not even bothered when the guardsman shot himself. Mikail took it like a joke. Even the crash and the pain he felt, he laughed and smiled. Even as he watched the fat melt of a human corpse near him, he laughed. War wasn't an issue with him, it was simply delightful.

Imperium [Warhammer 40,000 Only War]

Mikail had been slumped against the wall, casually dozing away the alcohol-induced sleep he had been stuck with. It was not his own doing, something to do with a certain comrade spiking his drink to ease his nerves, or perhaps as a joke. He was becked in the rightful uniform of the Valhallans and had an M,36 Lasgun casually slung over his shoulder, the hand guard adorned with the famous red star of the Valhallan regiments. He awoke with ponderous speed, his senses finally coming back to him in the hazy and dimly lit interior of the aircraft. Upon his face was not a shocked or even worried look, but rather a subtle grin.

Panning his view about those around him, he gave a short chuckle and lightly shook his head. “Should've known that Petrov would get me into this, old bastard.” He spoke with a joyous tone, devoid of any sorts of anger nor sorrow. All was simply a calming easiness to it, a jokers tone that filled the interior with its bass tone and rolling consonants. He lightly tapped at his gun before proclaiming in a most thrilled tone to the Praetorian that had spoke prior. “Friends, I am Mikail! If at all I am surprised you have not heard? I am from Valhalla regiments, very good medic indeed.” He seemed to delight in having any sort of company to chatter with.

“But, maybe fame will be recognised by others. Is not of concern! All that matters is that we are here, to kill the heretics that blight this place.”

Valiant Heroes, Vile Heresies [Warhammer 40,000 Death Watch]

Brother Fellwalker gave a drawn out sigh under his matte black helmet. His expression was a pale, sullen mask akin to that of a marble statue yet oddly animated in its nature. He stood there motionless for several moments before outright shrugging and just walking off to follow the Librarian. Petty squabbles were beneath him entirely, especially if they involved chapters that were so petty as to allow them in the first place. “Onwards brothers, lest this tainted place be our resting ground forever more!” His voice boomed and croaked with its mutated genes, yet his words and intention were clear. “Unless, that is, you do wish to die here. I am sure the enemy arrange that....”

Laughing to himself, Kaerell proceeded forwards with a gait so oddly nimble for someone in power armour, yet not unnatural. He managed to get himself between the Librarian and Brother Moros, positioned between the two so that he may protect those behind him. His breathing was audible however, deep laboured breaths as though he was becoming imbued with unbridled rage at...something. He snarled to himself, baring his teeth under his helmet yet not harming those battle brothers near him. His chain-axe was already in hand where he first heard the sounds of the gnawing monster that lurked about the place, though he paid it little heed. There was something else in this place scratching like a million needles upon polished glass and it seemed like only he could hear it.

“Damnable creature...damnable place...we do well to torch this world...”

Imperium [Warhammer 40,000 Only War]

Posted my second guy. Valhallan medic man.

Imperium [Warhammer 40,000 Only War]

My Hider

Medic Man

http://imgur.com/a/biaye

Imperium [Warhammer 40,000 Only War]

I've sorted my character

Imperium [Warhammer 40,000 Only War]

Yeah, I'd be interested. Besides Deathwatch is cool as it is, so hopefully that'll be indicative of that.

Valiant Heroes, Vile Heresies [Warhammer 40,000 Death Watch]

Brother Fellwalker was still deeply set within his silence when he and his battle-brothers moved upon the Tau fortress. In his mind, he was forever battling with the idea that he could have saved both brothers that had died already. Both the devastators had been lost, two soldiers who could have had their lives been spared from the grip of death, but instead were simply permitted to die due to the whims of creatures that weren't even human in nature. The whole series of events made Kaerell's blood boil but he kept it under wraps enough to keep up his semblance of control, for the time being.

He walked with his brothers up to the very gates of the stronghold, he marvelled at just how...quiet the place was. Where mighty guns would once be firing upon them, there was not a single gunner, and where stalwart defends would seek to fire upon the space marines, there were no soldiers. This left Kaerell perhaps, disappointed. He expected the Tau to stand their ground against their advance, not to hide away like cowards when the storm finally arrived.

Stepping over a neatly set aside pulse carbine, Fellwalker was baffled by the neat rows of uniforms and Tau weapons which were simply arrayed out like the Tau left peacefully. “Something can't be right here, surely?” He muttered, his voice still stuck in a sibilant whisper barely above a muttering. Any further musings were cut short when he heard the Son of Russ and the Dark Angel begin to bicker, however.

Rushing towards them, he posed himself between them to attempt to block out further physical violence. He was used to disputes like this, but at least his own chapter, for all their reputation, was more content to talk out their differences rather than begin a brawl. “There shall be no fists here... Speak, if you must, keep some semblance of civilisation!”

Valiant Heroes, Vile Heresies [Warhammer 40,000 Death Watch]

Brother Fellwalker was thumbing the activation rune on his chain axe long before the giant insectoid creature swooped forth to claim the life of Brother Bacara. Fellwalker had tried to vain hopes that he could perhaps aid his battle brother as he leapt forth to try and intercept the giant blue monstrosity that was carrying away the devastator marine like he was nothing but a child's' toy. His chain axe roared to life as he tried to swat at the Xenos monster, the blades barely clipping the creature's lower leg and gliding off the rough chitin like a bullet upon power armour. Kaerell roared with primal rage at the alien as he saw it, and Brother Bacara, plummet off the chasm's edge and into the depths that would so surely kill any creature that fell within its walls.

Brother Fellwalker was now, unlike eve before, frothing at the very mouth such was his vile repulsion at the creature which he just witnessed as it so casually murdered his brother in cold blood. He ranted and raved, spewing curses as readily as they came into his bloodthirsty mind, he loathed everything about the creature and all its bastardised kindred of which is called a species. He would destroy them utterly and without remorse, to seem them wiped from the face of existence like ants before an all-consuming flame that would obliterate all that stood before it.

His blood boiled, and would not stand for the death as it refused to abate and instead it simmered, his anger kept just under the surface of his scarred and battered face, his helmet itself seemed to warp into that of a snarling predator as he announced his rage with all the vilest of curses he knew. He damned the creature to a death more horrid than its senses could relay, to see its nerves frayed and its very body wrought bare into nothingness, atom by atom, particle by bloody particle.

It did not last, however, as his anger gave way to something far more benign and perhaps odd. Calmness. His abrupt stop and regaining of posture were almost unnerving, as he ceased the motors on his bloodied axe and simply stood there staring at the floor as though it was to swallow him whole. A near deafening sigh enveloped him, as Fellwalker simply shrugged it off with nothing so much as a casual annoyance. He gave one sentence to those about him, utterly uncaring to what was happening around him, be it the Librarian's courageous and valiant attempt at saving the doomed battle brother, or even the melancholy that seemed to radiate from brother Moros.

“Keep moving.” His words were not strained nor stressed, his voice being a threatening whisper that promised never ending pain to all those that would stand before him and his target. He would not rest until he saw every last Tau on this world burn for their actions. Their loss would be nothing compared to the defilement of the holy construction that was even a single battle brother, who had been perfected for thousands of years before their pathetic society even crawled from the muck of their paltry world.