Enigmatik

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

Gender: Male.

Role/Order: Cardinals Crimson.

Personal Demeanour: To become a crusader, one must become one with the understanding that they will die. Marcus has long since accepted this, and now lives by discipline. He moderates his emotions towards all, keeps himself focused on the objective at hand, and lives only to serve the Emperor. Even on the battlefield, he remains calm, barking out his words in quick and concise phrases. Battle screams and curses hurled at enemies are not how Marcus conducts himself.

Of course, however, he is a devoted servant of the emperor. In his heart burns nothing but cold fury for the xenos and heretics that plague the galaxy. Nothing would bring him more grim satisfaction than seeing another xenos fall by his feet, another combat style etched into his mind with strokes of blood. Regardless, outside of combat or inside of combat, he acts rather sternly.

Speciality: Close-quarters-combat, crowd control.

Rank: Crusader

Description: Standing at 6'2" tall, and with cropped black hair, Marcus is an individual that oozes the essence of a warrior. With carapace armour on, and the traditional black-and-red robes of the Cardinals Crimson. In many ways, he is utterly unremarkable in appearance, without any form of metal implants or strange procedures having marred his body. Unusually, he also bears no tattoos of faith at all- he lets the scars of combat bear them instead.

History: Marcus was born on an Imperial transport vessel in the middle of space. Without knowledge of who his father was, and with his mother rapidly KIA, he was left to be raised by a ecclesiarchal priest. From a young age, he was taught to moderate himself in wayward thought, to follow the Emperor with every bone and sinew in his body. Indoctrination at such a young age, combined with growing up around the crudeness that were Astra Militarum soldiers gave him an odd mix between holiness and crudeness, tempered by a naturally melancholic attitude.

However, one cannot become a crusader just by being raised by a priest. Upon planetfall, the young Marcus, already showing promise, was shipped off to the Schola Progenium. There, he quickly came under the attention of Drill Abbot Clemitus Attentine, a trainer in melee combat and physical fitness. Eschewing training in ranged weaponry, not even that of basic autogun procedure, he was instead taught more and more of the arts of war on a level he had not expected to before.

His qualification of the Progenium came in a violent and confusing way. Thrown into the Hallucinarium, with his only instruction being to protect another student from harm, despite the myriad other confusing instructions and Tempestus trainees, he succeeded, and was promptly approached by a member of the Cardinals Crimson, where he entered the life of a crusader whole-heatedly. He found particular skill with a more defensive combat style- that of lance and spear. Xenos fruitlessly battering themselves against his defence as he harried them down and left them dead, before moving on. He learned the catechisms of the crusader, the vows of how he would lay down his life, and he fought for decades against heretic and xenos alike across the Imperium.

With the request from Leland Kliment, the Ecclesiarchy sent him to carry out the highest honour a crusader could be granted- to lay down his life for the instrument of the Emperor's Will that was an Inquisitor. He is yet to take the formal oath that will forever bond him to Kliment, however he has been given instructions to do so once he meets the inquisitor.

Equipment and Armament:

• Power Lance- Covered in ornate purity seals and scripture, and thrice-blessed. Cuts through armour like a knife through butter, with a range long enough to ensure that foes will have to approach through his reach to attack him.
• Reinforced Carapace Armour- Tough, whilst still flexible enough to direct would-be lethal blows.
• Storm Shield- Full body protection in an angular design. When this is put in front of Marcus, he becomes a wall, capable of shrugging off small arms fire like it's rain.
• Badge of Office- A plain thing, mostly used as identification.

He owns nothing else, as would be expected from a Crusader.

The Fumes of War- A 20th Century 'Punk' Nation RP

@Sierra @Strange Rodent

Discord up:discord.gg/EBBwK5V

The Fumes of War- A 20th Century 'Punk' Nation RP

Idiea has been at peace for almost a century. The flames of war were quenched and the blacksmiths went back to hammering ploughs, but now? It seems like that is coming to an end. Technological advancement has stoked the flames of ambition and competition like the world has never seen before. The power of crude, the sticky black stuff that reeks and powers the world... It is sending countries mad, and with each descent into the greed for black gold comes the rearmament. Still, politicians claim that war will never happen. There will be peace, they say.

Pah! Peace. It looks to me like you should be readying for war!

---

---

The Fumes of War is a curious idea I've had. If you're aware of upcoming RTS game Iron Harvest, the ideas are somewhat similar. Dieselpunk, to put it in simpler terms, is what happens when the idealism of steampunk runs out. World War 1 brings the Victorian romanticism to a clothesline stop, and the interwar period, rise of facism and other extreme ideologies brings the worse out in people.

This, is slightly different. In the continent of Idiea, roughly comparable to Europe of the 1920s and 1930s, war has not happened. The kingdoms and empires that made up the continent remained on a steady course, but that is about to come to a halt. Rapid advancements in technology have suddenly opened the floodgates for weapons technology in a way that has never been seen before. Understandably, tensions are rising, and the diesel that now powers Europe is now ripe to be sparked, dragging perhaps the entire world into a combat the likes of which have never been seen before.

Philosophically, Empires are a real part of the world still. Civic and Chauvinsitic Nationalism, racial supremacy, blossoming democracy, absolutist monarchy and totalitarian dictatorships butt heads like never before. Communism is a wildfire idea that is dismissed in parlour houses but spoke of on factory floors, the nation state is tussling with its directions... With you at the helm.

At the core of it, this will be a nitty-gritty game.

Exactly how it'll play out is still being worked out in my head, but if you just want to write a bit casually, this won't be for you. Apologies. I also am looking for people who will have long term interest. If you're going to vamoose after a few posts, then there's no need to bother in the first place.

That being said, I look forward to seeing if folks are interested!

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

Trixie turned the tap, and watched as the water dribbled out. "Alright. I'm calling it. Utilities are now, officially, down. Which is a shame, because it's bloody freezing right now." She sighed and looked outside. The chickens had been taken in, and they had covered the small amount of crops they were growing in clear plastic. Even though it was midday, it was gloomy outside, thick, dark clouds covering the sky. After the earthquake, things had seemed alright for a few days, and then the power had begun to waver. Sometimes it would be on for a few days, and then it would flick off for an hour or a day at a time. Then it would be flicked back on, rinse and repeat.

Two days ago, it had gone off and hadn't come back on.

Now the water was off. Dark grey flurries, really soot-filled snow, was falling onto the ground. Damn. Even with a minor earthquake... No doubt if it had just been this alone, things might have been OK, but they weren't. Really weren't. Flicking their radio back and forth, Robin listened until Three Dawg's station came over the radio. There was a few pops and hisses as the broadcast attempted to pierce the snow, and then his voice crackled over.

"Day... I'm calling it day 17 of the end of the world has been going pretty well folks! Today I'm calling it 'Fallout Friday,' in honour of my name, and these absolutely amazing tunes from the 40s and 50s. That was just 'Atom Bomb Baby,' and before we get into the next, an update on whatever I'm getting from sources. FEMA and National Guard are busy bees across the country with camps for food and basic necessities. They say that if you want to get supplies, come with ID. You cannot get food on behalf of other people, and supplies are limited, so you might not get anything."

The firefighter leaned back in his chair. "You reckon there's something in Phoenix?"

"You're not going to the city." Trixie looked at him, incredulous. "We have enough food, no need to risk it out there."

"It would help, wouldn't it? Some extra supplies, and the National Guard has enough guns to make it count. It'll take an hour and a half, max."

"An hour and a half you can't communicate to me, because phone towers are down."

"I need to get out, I'm going stir crazy in here."

"You can't just go into Phoenix!"

"Look, Trix, I love ya, really do, but you're being a little controlling here. I'll take Rocky, I'll take the Benelli, I'll take the Glock. Plenty of firepower. Dogpower to." He chuckled. "If I get something, I get something. If not, it's still good information, alright?"

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

@Andrew Blade @Raylah @Dusty @Banzai Tracers @ClocktowerEchos @SantosGabriel77 Check in, please.

The Rhythm of the Night

I'll get on a post probably tomorrow.

The Rhythm of the Night

Manny Redwood

Manny's a 24 year old guy who's just trying to find his way in the big wide world. 6'6, but skinny as a rake and with about as much experience with grass, he's nothing overly remarkable, despite the raggedy braids. He rocks around in a beat up old Chevy pickup, he always has a smile on his face and a beer in the backseat, next to his prized violin. Despite appearances, he's not as broke as he would seem at first. A steady income from busking, working as a sandwich artist and selling just a little weed on the side. He's also a mean card player when it comes to blackjack, although he doesn't play for money very often. Matchsticks is fine for him.



Manny is a downbeater. He hears the beat as an endless country fiddle song, bowing and bowing as the background to his life. His particular powerset is focused around empathetic abilities, as well as aiding others. He can innately sense the mood around him like nobody else can, and more than that, can influence it. Many a fight has been disarmed before it began by a few easy words from Manny, and he's not exaggerating when he shows off the notches on his belt. Perhaps a little unethical, but he doesn't see it that way. His other powers include being able to increase the potency of fellow beathearers's abilities, as well as minor healing- he can't bring someone back from the brink, but setting a bone or mending a slip with the kitchen knife aren't an issue for him.



Shockingly, Manny's parents weren't huge on 'The Man.' In an age of ever increasing connectivity and straight-lacedness, his parents were quite the opposite. His grandparents attended Woodstock, smoked dope and got through life, and his parents were Boomers to the extreme. Only a life of ignoring modern technology and the fact that they're decidedly average have stopped them from being Yuppies, and Manny's friends were all of a similar ilk. His family holidays were to nudist camps, his parents would smoke a six pack a day and tell him not to do the same, and he grew up hearing about the evils of corporations and how Mother Nature isn't always something to be ignored.

Thankfully, however, that wasn't his entire upbringing. Modern school taught him the values of 'Big Pharma,' and he's a relatively well-rounded person. Whilst he considered taking a major in botany, the obscene prices of student loans, coupled with a want to do his own thing in life meant that he took a year backpacking, where he picked up playing violin in order to earn a bit of cash on the road. He's visited every six out of seven continents in the world, but returned to his native US just in time to hear the Beat start to pound through life.

He realised that he was a Beathearer when he was twenty two. Slowly but surely, he worked out his abilities and how they worked. He considers himself fairly lucky that not only did he hear the Beat as a type of music that he could play, but his abilities are easy to conceal, easy to pass off as being absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, and easy to practise. Well, apart from his ability to buff up the powers of others. That's by far his most unrefined skill.

Unfortunately though, not much has changed since he began to hear the beat. He still works as a sandwich artist, still busks on the side, still sells the same stuff he sold a few years ago, and still keeps his Beatsmithing on the down low. Something has to change in his life, but he doesn't know how or when that's going to happen.



Really, just looking at a picture should tell you all you need to know. Laid back, bit of a joker, midnight toker. He likes a decent beer, a decent steak and a decent place to rest his head with some decent friends. Really, there ain't nothing unusual about Manny Redwood.

The Rhythm of the Night

Manny Redwood

Manny's a 24 year old guy who's just trying to find his way in the big wide world. 6'6, but skinny as a rake and with about as much experience with grass, he's nothing overly remarkable, despite the raggedy braids. He rocks around in a beat up old Chevy pickup, he always has a smile on his face and a beer in the backseat, next to his prized violin. Despite appearances, he's not as broke as he would seem at first. A steady income from busking, working as a sandwich artist and selling just a little weed on the side. He's also a mean card player when it comes to blackjack, although he doesn't play for money very often. Matchsticks is fine for him.



Manny is a downbeater. He hears the beat as an endless country fiddle song, bowing and bowing as the background to his life. His particular powerset is focused around empathetic abilities, as well as aiding others. He can innately sense the mood around him like nobody else can, and more than that, can influence it. Many a fight has been disarmed before it began by a few easy words from Manny, and he's not exaggerating when he shows off the notches on his belt. Perhaps a little unethical, but he doesn't see it that way. His other powers include being able to increase the potency of fellow beathearers's abilities, as well as minor healing- he can't bring someone back from the brink, but setting a bone or mending a slip with the kitchen knife aren't an issue for him.



Shockingly, Manny's parents weren't huge on 'The Man.' In an age of ever increasing connectivity and straight-lacedness, his parents were quite the opposite. His grandparents attended Woodstock, smoked dope and got through life, and his parents were Boomers to the extreme. Only a life of ignoring modern technology and the fact that they're decidedly average have stopped them from being Yuppies, and Manny's friends were all of a similar ilk. His family holidays were to nudist camps, his parents would smoke a six pack a day and tell him not to do the same, and he grew up hearing about the evils of corporations and how Mother Nature isn't always something to be ignored.

Thankfully, however, that wasn't his entire upbringing. Modern school taught him the values of 'Big Pharma,' and he's a relatively well-rounded person. Whilst he considered taking a major in botany, the obscene prices of student loans, coupled with a want to do his own thing in life meant that he took a year backpacking, where he picked up playing violin in order to earn a bit of cash on the road. He's visited every six out of seven continents in the world, but returned to his native US just in time to hear the Beat start to pound through life.

He realised that he was a Beathearer when he was twenty two. Slowly but surely, he worked out his abilities and how they worked. He considers himself fairly lucky that not only did he hear the Beat as a type of music that he could play, but his abilities are easy to conceal, easy to pass off as being absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, and easy to practise. Well, apart from his ability to buff up the powers of others. That's by far his most unrefined skill.

Unfortunately though, not much has changed since he began to hear the beat. He still works as a sandwich artist, still busks on the side, still sells the same stuff he sold a few years ago, and still keeps his Beatsmithing on the down low. Something has to change in his life, but he doesn't know how or when that's going to happen.



Really, just looking at a picture should tell you all you need to know. Laid back, bit of a joker, midnight toker. He likes a decent beer, a decent steak and a decent place to rest his head with some decent friends. Really, there ain't nothing unusual about Manny Redwood.

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

"Ahehe... It's Three Dawg here folks. Now, if you haven't felt the earthquakes, you really shoulda felt it by now. Or, at least, be about to feel them. Seems we've had a 'minor eruption' at Yellowstone Volcano. Not one of the big 'uns, but uh, still pretty big. They say most of the US gon' be pretty fuckin' cold in a few days time. More than that though, Israel has officially launched a ground invasion into Jordan, and have declared that its Arabic neighbours have 'no official sovereignty." The already some-what familiar voice offered a clearing of the throat. "Not sure if WW3 is about to kick off as well folks. Keep an ear on the news. Three Dawg's going to catch some Zs."

Robin and Trixie looked at one another. "He didn't say the Richter, but felt across the US?" Trixie raised an eyebrow, before an emergency broadcast pinged on their phones at once.

ATTENTION CITIZENS: THE FOLLOWING STATES ARE UNDER MARTIAL LAW...

"That's every... Every state apart from Alaska and Hawaii."

"What the fuck."

"Shit's going... Shit's going down. God damn." The two didn't know where to look. "You think the word's about to end? Like, for real? All our preparation facing the actual, full on end?"

"We never really thought it would come to this, did we?"

"... Not really, no."

"Do you wanna enjoy the end of the world before we feel that earthquake?"

"Sure. Rocky, stay." Robin pointed at the dog, who looked up and him, and then neatly sat down in front of the door. "Wanna see if I can pick you up still? I haven't tried in ages."

"Sure... Why not." Trixie let out a grin, and Robin knelt down. Hands in a bridal carry, up she went.

"Hey, would ya look at that."

"Oh stop it Robin."

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

GM post tomorrow my dudes. You get to see the new and exciting ways of 'everyone is fucked.'