Avatar of BCTheEntity

Status

Recent Statuses

6 mos ago
Current Harambant, who once went by Harambe, now only recalled in light of what followed.
1 yr ago
RAIN OF SPIDERS (SPIDERS spiders)
4 likes
3 yrs ago
It seems today, that all you see,
3 yrs ago
Holy Spirit Activate
1 like
3 yrs ago
Remember the indigenous people of the Americas today.
5 likes

Bio

Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

A link to some of my past characters, which I need because static tabs do not take up internet.

Infamous Quotes From People Who Exist

“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.”
~vikaTae

“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.”
~BCLEGENDS

Most Recent Posts

Jeremiah Beltrán Carlos

So, first off, the hoodie kid was definitely on drugs, possibly being force-fed them. Might be from one of those Middle East countries? Second, another lady was showing herself now - French, apparently, and pretty hot. The sort of chick he'd try and get down with if this were normal prison hours- had he tried to do that before? He didn't fuckin' know, there were so many people in this place.

'Yeah, man,' he confirmed for the squirt, 'shit's all kinds of wrong right now. I mean, it's not just the fuckin' guards - where the hell are the other inmates? Why's it just us? Like- ¿Qué carajo? ¡Esto es tan jodidamente estúpido!' This was pretty fucking annoying now - or, well, he was painting it like that so it didn't get too creepy. He couldn't be freaked out if he was angry, right?

'Mira, vale, escúchame- er, listen to me.' Fuck, they didn't know Spanish, probably. Shit. 'Here's what we're gonna do, right? We're gonna go to the cafeteria, see if we can still get brekkie, yeah? Probably we need food, and probably if anyone else is alive, they're gonna head there for food, because they're gonna be hungry too. I know I'm fuckin' hungry, anyway,' he finished off, scratching his stomach. Yeah, that made sense. A bit of something to put them on for a bit. So, cafeteria, that was... that way, yeah.

@Nyxira@Randomness
Jeremiah Beltrán Carlos

Wha- oh, shit, somebody else was here. Which, actually, that really was it, huh? No other guards... and so far as he could tell, nobody else had come out of their cells yet beside him and this other guy. With a hoodie. Lucky fucker probably had a television in his room too. Not that that mattered right now, but...

'Ay, hermano,' he called out, heading over to the guy. Did he recognise him? Twig like this guy, he'd probably remember seeing him around. 'You just get up too? 'Cause, uh, I'm pretty sure the guards need to get their arses in gear, yeah? Folla perezoso. Hah. That was a joke, but uh...' He gestured around as if to say "noone else is laughing", because obviously they couldn't if they weren't there. If a joke falls flat in prison, does anybody laugh at it?

'The hell you doin', anyway?' he asked. 'You look like shit, like you ain't slept in ages- have you slept in ages, mate? Or have you been on drugs for months or something?' Shit, looking at him now... he could have been. He didn't know if the guards used tranqs on inmates regularly, even if he knew what it was like to get shut down every so often, but this guy sure did look like he was coming down from something narcotic.

@Nyxira
Jeremiah Beltrán Carlos

Jeremiah woke up, at about the same time he normally did. Or, rather, he was barely nudged by the pitiful whinge of the alarm in his cell, and it took him a couple of minutes to actually realise he was conscious, and another few to come fully awake; a few more seconds to recognise he was late up, and maybe a couple more seconds after that to understand that something was not right about the situation, given that the guards weren't on his arse for sleeping in.

Speaking of which, were they gonna come around any time soon? As if tempting them to, he decided to do some pullups instead of following the schedule... and after five minutes and his sixth set, they were still absent. And speaking of which, his cell door was open, too, wasn't it?

'¿Qué diablos está pasando?' he asked himself, finally moving toward the door and pushing it. Sure enough, it swung on its hinges, allowing him out into the corridor. Looking around... the lights were flicking between their usual white colour and the red they used when low on power. Air vents sounded nasty as hell... anything else? Shit, probably, but he'd go for that when he felt like it.

'Ay, anyone else up yet?' he yelled out, trying to get at least a few people's attentions. There were others in this building, right? He knew he'd wanted to bang some of them for a while, but... well. If he was the last one in, that just meant he had the run of the place. Heh... what a shithole to be left alone in.

Seriously though, the lack of staff was creepy as shit.
Collab between @BCTheEntity, @Hank, and @Eldritch Puppy



≡][≡


The initial portion of Aodh’s training went as expected. Assigned to Kill-Team Hallr, he and they were taken to the hypno-induction chambers to absorb knowledge of the alien that was hardly known to even the vaunted capabilities of the Astartes. He certainly would have said he knew a fair bit about the unknown, courtesy of the Indomitus Crusade- but if he hadn’t been fully on-board with Watch-Commander Kade’s sentiment that they didn’t know everything there was to know about the galaxy, he certainly was by the end of their first session.

Really, the taking on of knowledge wasn’t the issue for Aodh. Looking through Watch-Fortress archives was just a matter of enhancing one’s ability to debate strategy against a given foe, and hypno-therapy hardly required effort on their part at all beyond willingness to take on what was to be implanted. No, what he found himself grating against was the particular training he was put through by the Mentors Drill-Sergeant. Over and over, they were put into scenarios which he at least was entirely out of his depth for, often demanding stealth or guile or the like; and over and over Drill-Sergeant Odilon seemingly went out of his way to nitpick every detail of their attack plan, forcibly moulding them in some way or another; this latest test mission had left Aodh feeling no desire at all to claim the right to kill the leader, so many times had they already killed him. Worse still, when Aodh made an effort to pursue his usual modus operandi of debating a plan of attack before making it so, he was more often than not seen as undermining Hallr’s instruction, thus reprimanded and disregarded accordingly. What was the point of having so many minds present if they weren’t allowed to consider what to do?

Speaking of which, some other Kill-Team members seemed far more on-board with training than himself. The Black Sword, Brother Parion, was not unintelligent in that respect, and between sessions could be very friendly, albeit becoming rather the aggressive killer on the field proper. Brother Jonas, of the Raptors, seemed to have issues with the close-quarters nature of much of their training, but managed rather well with the stealth aspect, and despite his relative sense of fatalism Aodh managed to form some semblance of camaraderie with him. And the Blackshield, only going by Lucifuge and even so far as to refuse the appendation of “Brother”, simply followed orders, seeming keen enough to interact with the others of Kill-Team Hallr, but remaining utterly silent as to his own background, as one might expect once the concept of a Blackshield was explained properly. Aodh did his best to honour his desire to remain shrouded, ultimately.

And then there was Brother Yndrasil. Aodh, frankly, had trouble liking him - he could acknowledge that behind those bright blue eyes was an extreme intellect and constant assessment of everything, but he had come in apparently malnourished and only filled out in the month since. And unlike Lucifuge’s shrouded history or even Jonas’ grim pragmatism, it seemed like he simply refused to integrate socially, and that made figuring out who he was difficult. What was not difficult was seeing him work, so far as Aodh could tell, almost perfectly within the hyper-confining demands of Drill-Sergeant Hallr’s overwatch. This mission in particular had apparently seen little to no faults on Yndrasil’s part, and he had to admit... that was galling for him.

Not that Yndrasil noticed. He had been grateful for the training and the opportunity it presented to fully dedicate himself to something, and grabbed it firmly with both hands. All of his time had been dedicated to self-improvement, and that meant that there was no time left to dwell on the immense solitude he felt every time he was alone in his room, with nothing but the silent Brand for company. Another marine might have sought the company of his new battle-brothers, but that was not the way of the Void Stalkers. Besides, he considered most of them to be loud and brash, qualities that were abrasive to Yndrasil’s contemplative mind, and he kept to himself instead. Only the Raptor seemed agreeable to him, by virtue of his grim silence and pragmatic dedication to achieving results. Yndrasil understood that.

The sheer amount of information available in the databanks and the hypno-therapy sessions had been daunting at first, and Yndrasil had been a little taken aback to discover how little he knew about the Imperium at large, or even about some of its foes. For example, he had never even heard of the T’au species that they were facing in the current exercise. This only made sense given the location of their territory, but the feeling of being woefully unprepared had been deeply unpleasant for the Void Stalker. More confusing had been his lack of knowledge about the Primarchs, who appeared to be extremely important and played a large role in the consciousness of his brothers. He couldn’t help but wonder why he had never learned about them, or about their bloodied and tragic history, or why he didn’t know who his progenitor Primarch had been, but answers were not forthcoming. Gorseval could not speak to him here, and the Deathwatch knew nothing about his Chapter. So, instead, Yndrasil had focused on the here and now. A month into their training he felt that he had caught up significantly, and that soothed his unease.

While Yndrasil kept to himself and seldom spoke without being spoken to, it was clear that Jonas went out of his way to avoid interacting with Parion. The reason for it was obvious too; both of their chapters claimed to be successors to the Raven Guard, yet one of the proverbial apples seemed to have fallen quite far from the tree. Relations between Black Swords and the sons of Corax were cold at the best of times, almost every Raven Guard successor chapter refusing to acknowledge the Black Swords to be sharing their blood. In turn, they learned to keep their distance. Aodh and Lucifuge proved to be of good enough company at least, and Parion respected the latter's unwillingness to discuss his history.

The training, however, frustrated him to some extent. Stealth was not exactly his speciality, but this was not the issue. He understood that the training was meant to get him out of his comfort zone, so to speak, so that he may become a better tool for future missions. Seeing Yndrasil's expert marksmanship and talent to avoid being detected comforted him in his opinion on the matter. No, the problem lies elsewhere.

No matter how good of an imitation the holographic projections were, they could not be more than only that. Illusions. Moving, shooting training dummies. Fighting them proved to be... extremely unsatisfactory for Parion. His usual bloodthirst was teased by this mockery of a fight, without any way to satiate it. While maintaining high levels of aggression and exhibiting all of the martial prowess that could be expected of an Astartes, his ferocity was not half of what it should be in a real combat situation. The Black Sword had the distinct impression that a part of him was like a wild beast walking in circles in a cage while being prodded and poked at, growing more and more wrathful and impatient with no choice but to endure it.

Regardless, the Kill-Team was ready to begin again. The first task was the easiest - abseil down to the domed roof of the compound from above. Despite the length of the cliff face above, they had practiced it well enough that Aodh, at least, could make it down the full length and to the roof within fifteen seconds, easily half of what he’d been working at initially. And so he did, shaving off perhaps another tenth of a second in the process. Every second did count, too: too long on the cliff, and they’d be spotted and shot down before they even reached the roof. To that end, however, Aodh moved to one side of the roof, spotting a triad of sentries patrolling with one another. All three would need to go down at the same time.

He’d been told over and over again, maintain radio silence for maximum stealth, and a couple of times the failure to do so had cost them. This time, he made hand signals to gesture two of the group over, relaying the information before selecting his target, and aiming his bolt pistol at the holographic sentry’s head. When they were ready, then.
Consider me interested once again. My man shall see the light of day once more!
The God-Emperor has sat upon the Golden Throne for ten thousand years - his body kept on the cusp of life even as his soul eternally fractures into countless agonised shards of knowledge and personality. Yet, non-linear as the Warp is, one such shard has encountered an aspect of the Emperor from long before its own time. Desperate to end its master’s pain and its own, it throws itself into that nascent forge, and so changes the course of fate for the entire galaxy…






It is the dawn of the 31st Millennium. The Grim Crusade is in full swing, and vast swathes of the galaxy have fallen under the control of the relatively fresh Imperium of Man, led by the Emperor of Mankind to bring the Imperial Truth to all and sundry. The Imperium, in theory, is a society that denies religion and deity alike, and hates all xeno races with a passion - even as, in practice, many of its elements struggle against these fundamental bases, most notably the infamous Edict of Tolerance and its divisive decrees. Nonetheless, the Emperor's knowledge of the alien and beyond is incalculable, yet sufficient to see them beneath humanity's heel either alive or dead. For him, nothing less than the absolute dominion of humanity is acceptable.

To achieve this goal, the Emperor has used his vast knowledge of genetic engineering and the arcane sciences of forgotten times to craft various superhuman soldiers - the legendary Thunder Warriors, the Legio Custodes, and most recently, the Legiones Astartes, the twenty Legions of Space Marines. Led by sons and daughters of the Emperor known as Primarchs, paragons of humanity’s power even compared to their subordinates, the Legions, along with the Imperial Army and other Imperial forces, have marched toward absolute conquest over the Milky Way for over two centuries in spite of any and all setbacks.

This is where you, the players, come in. You will be playing as one of these twenty Primarchs, once scattered, since brought under the wing of the Emperor and into control of their own Legion. How these Primarchs and their Legions are moulded is entirely up to you; what methods, tactics, philosophy or weapons you choose to employ is your decision, and will influence how your Legion interacts with the rest.

The game thread can be found here, and a link to the Discord channel can be found here. If you're interested, be sure to read through the first post in the OOC, and feel free to chat with myself and the other players about your ideas too.
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