Jarl Coolgruuf

War Against Witches

@MonkeyBusiness Good question. I'd imagine there'd be at least some witches and warlocks who'd prefer the security within the Strongholds

War Against Witches

@AtomicNut Question, do witches have access to guns and if they do do they use them often? What about melee weapons like swords and spears?

Also I'd be more than willing to help with anything related to guns. I'm a bit of a gun nut if I'm being honest.

War Against Witches

>well thought out lore

>compelling story

>edgy loner characters aren't allowed

>grimdark without being boring and predictable

Warhammer 40k: Kommandoz - Behind Enemy Lines (Ork RP) (Open)

Gardak "Shef" Flamelobba, the ork among Da Devil with a propensity for fire, had been having quite a bit of fun exchanging shots with any humie brave or stupid enough to approach their little dugout. Had being the keyword. Just under a dozen charred corpses now decorated what had effectively become a no man's land of scorched undergrowth and smoking dirt before the volcanic fury of his skorcha. He took a drag of his cigar, which looked comically small in the mouth of a greenskin. Flamelobba sighed a cloud of smoke and stood up to unleash another stream of liquid fire on the humie lines. He knew he wouldn't hit any of them as they'd all gotten wise and backed up out of range. Still, it was important to let them know he could still cook them alive in seconds should they move any closer.

Flamaelobba slumped back down against the wall and turned to Gutsnaga. The boss was a crafty one and he was sure he'd see them out of this mess. So when the boss mentioned he had a plan in the works, the ork grinned with anticipation. He liked when the boss said that because that meant something was about to go BOOM!!! or they were in for a right proper fight.
"You got it, Boss! I got 2 fiery stikkbombz, choppa, and..." The ork paused to count on his fingers. "1 skorcha fuel outta 3 skorcha fuel."
The ork unclipped one of the aforementioned stikkbombz from his belt and peeked over the wall to see who'd be the most fun to set on fire. His eyes settled on some sort of humie lobba. It wasn't very big but the shells near it looked like fun so he hurled the stikkbomb with all his brutish strength. He grinned savagely as he watched the grenade sail over the heads of the front line and roll to a stop next to the crates of shells. The humies didn't even have time to cry out before the entire mortar emplacement was bathed in fire. Flamelobba gave a great belly laugh as he watched humies scramble around like headless chickens as their very flesh boiled and dripped off their faces.
"Make dat 1 stikkbomb!"

Monster Federation Force

Interested

The War That Ended All Wars [Interest Check]

I'm game

~ Andromeda - Know no bounds ~

Cold.
Everything was so unbearably cold. Like lying in a snow bank in nothing but your birthday suit as your blood turns into an iron-flavored slushie sort of cold. Bel tried to sit up but her neck creaked and her fingers wouldn't bend. She tried again, this time focusing on bending at the waist but just didn't have the strength. That was when it occurred to her she couldn't see anything and she knew for a fact she should at least see some glass in front of her.
"That's not good..."
Bel shivered as the cold slowly intensified and dug into her naked skin without much resistance. Her vision slowly returned and she couldn't help but feel that something was wrong as she looked down. The light coating of frost on her skin was thickening rapidly and she couldn't see through the cryopod glass through all the ice.

She was also vaguely aware of someone shouting far away and then everything came into sharp focus all at once. The cold intensified 10 fold and gut punched the air right out of her lungs. She was overcome with a sense of impending death for a brief moment before the crypod lid flew open. Bel sat bolt upright and she felt her throat burn as she heaved the contents of her empty stomach onto the floor. She stumbled to her feet and shoved someone in a lab coat out of the way, a doctor by the look of him. The medic collapsed to her knees and wretched a few times before she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Pete's sake, woman! I said wait!" the doctor shouted from behind her.
He helped Bel to her feet so she could move to sit on the edge of the cryopod. Her head was pounding, spinning and vibrating all at once.
"There. Now, as I was saying, you need to sit down for a moment and let your body acclimate. You don't just run a marathon not even 30 seconds after you've been through an emergency thaw."
"Emergency whatsit?"
"Emergecy thaw. Your cryopod malfunctioned. You're lucky I came back to get my coffee mug otherwise you would've frozen solid."
"How about that? My life was saved by a coffee mug."
Bel laughed and clapped the doctor on the shoulder and stood, albeit shakily, but by her own power. It was funny really how often lives hang in the balance and the tipping point between life and death can be something as mundane as a misplaced mug. Out in the field it often came down to something as simple as a garden wall being an inch tall enough to stop a coilgun round from giving you a surprise field lobotomy.
"Thanks, doc. I owe you a drink sometime."
She half strolled, half stumbled out into the hallway leading out of the bank of cryopods and into somewhere else away from the doctor's yammering. She wasn't sure where she was going, just that it had to be somewhere else, somewhere she was needed or useful.

Eventually she managed to locate her clothes and other gear in a locker on the wall. Now suitably packed, she made her way out into the main areas of the ship to find something to do. She hated not feeling useful

==============================

It took a great deal of asking around, but eventually she managed to locate someone who could both get her her gear and let her know where she was supposed to be going. A field medic is wasted sitting on a ship hanging in the endless void of space. She was rather pleased to hear that she would be assigned to one of the Travelers and had made her way to the dockyard to patiently wait for her commanding officer and or look for them. In all the chaos she hadn't even managed to get a name. She didn't take it personally that no one could spare the time to help her. Everyone had a job to do and she needed to find one somewhere in the dockyard.

As she waited for some sort of indicator, she stopped to think about where she was and what it all meant. She'd made it and it made her smile to think about how she was floating through a virtually untouched galaxy. She couldn't wait to get started. There was so much to see, so much to do, so much to explore. There was no telling what awaited them beyond the confines of the Atlas and that thought alone sent chills of excitement up and down her spine. The day was here and she was more than ready.

Warhammer 40k: Kommandoz - Behind Enemy Lines (Ork RP) (Open)

Name: Gardak Flamelobba

Nickname(s): Shef

Klan: Deathskulls

Role: Burna Boy

Common Armament: Skorcha (wiff extra stabby bit), fiery stikkbombz, and a zoggin' sharp choppa

Anything else: An oddity among ork burna boys. He has an obsession with creating the perfect skorcha fuel that will cook any piece of meat perfectly when subjected to its inferno.

He also possesses a cigar that never seems to fully burn out no matter how long it stays lit. Unfortunately, his lighter does run out of fuel and he constantly scavenges for new lighters, some of which he keeps in his collection after they run out of fluid.

Warhammer 40k: Kommandoz - Behind Enemy Lines (Ork RP) (Open)

Name: Gardak Flamelobba

Nickname(s): Shef

Klan: Deathskulls

Role: Burna Boy

Common Armament: Skorcha (wiff extra stabby bit), fiery stikkbombz, and a zoggin' sharp choppa

Anything else: An oddity among ork burna boys. He has an obsession with creating the perfect skorcha fuel that will cook any piece of meat perfectly when subjected to its inferno.

He also possesses a cigarette case that never seems to run out of cigarettes. No matter how many times he opens it there's always exactly 3 cigarettes inside. Unfortunately, his lighter does run out of fuel and he constantly scavenges for new lighters, some of which he keeps in his collection after they run out of fluid.

~ Andromeda - Know no bounds ~

Isabel “Bel” Barton

Name
Isabel “Bel” Barton

”Rearin’ and ready, sir!”

Species
Human

Age
27

Sexuality
Bisexual

Birth
Veronica Peak, North Carolina, U.S.A, Earth

---

Appearance
Short yellow blonde hair and green eyes stand out in the crowd even without her being so tall for a woman at 6’1”. Her figure is lean and very athletic but her face is soft and kind despite how rough and calloused her fingers are. She smiles often and laughs with her fingers over her mouth. Her clothing is usually either kevlar or denim with a few bargain bin shirts for flavor. She always rolls up the cuffs of her jeans out of habit more than anything and never wears anything besides sandals unless she’s on duty.

On her left wrist is her one and only tattoo: a list of names written without embellishment or flair of any kind. Hector Gurrella, Darius Webster, John Matthews, Lucas Collins, and Omar Najjar. Her skin is also marked by a number of scars including: a patch of jagged scars above her left hip, a trio of bullet scars on her right shoulder, right bicep, and just below her right breast, and one last mark that goes halfway up her left calf.

Personality
Jovial and upbeat though not exactly a joker out in the field. She remains cool under pressure and maintains a positive outlook which helps keep her patients calm. Panicking is ill advised at best when trying to put someone’s intestines back inside them. As such, her bedside manner is impeccable. That’s not to say that she simply takes abusive or berative behavior from those under her care. She’s a field medic not a nurse and doesn’t give a singular god damn how much your leg hurts. You’re gonna play nice too if you want good care.

Off duty she’s not just nice, she’s a whole bucket of sunshine. Excitable, honest, and caring. Bel is the type everyone wants to be their friend and the one to try and be everyone’s friend. Her enthusiasm is just as boundless as her energy.

---

Role
Field Medic

Equipment
S4K80 “Bandersnatch” Submachine Gun
(38 round magazine, 850 rounds/minute, red dot optics, flashlight)
S&W Model 66
(6 shot, 3in barrel, double action, Pappy’s favorite)
Asclepius Pattern Body Armor
Field Trauma Kit
Combat Surgeon Kit

Previous Branch
United States Space Force, 2nd Battalion, Fox Company

---

Biography
Isabel Barton was born the youngest of three born in 2228 at around 3:30AM in the back of her parent’s car right in the hospital parking lot. Her grandfather joked she was great at being in the worst places at the worst times. Shortly after her birth, her father lost his BAR license when a shady legal deal fell through and the family of five was forced to move out to the country where said grandfather set him up with a steady, but much less lucrative job as a corner store clerk.

Speaking of her grandfather, she and her brothers were essentially raised by him (but mostly her). He was the sort American flag waving, ATF hating, tobacco chewing, moonshine sipping, farmer tan having, overall wearing, pick up truck owning, DIY fixing, fly fishing, shooting squirrels with an antique .22 from a rocking chair on his back porch while sipping sweet tea from a mason jar, Carolina-born good ol’ boy she was proud to call her Pappy. He already picked Bel (he only called her Isabel when she was in deep, deep trouble) out as his favorite grandchild before her 4th birthday, much to the secret resentment of her mother. Her mother’s childhood came and went mostly without her father since he was off in all corners of the galaxy for nearly two decades as a soldier of fortune. She hardly ever saw him growing up so the fact he was now around to play the cool relative always left her feeling bitter.

Her brothers often left to play with their friends from around the town but Bel and Pappy were the best of friends. She spent countless hours with him hunting, fishing, target shooting, and learning to play her great, great grandpappy’s banjo and guitar both of which she inherited and carried with her to Andromeda. It wasn’t uncommon for her to spend a full week at a time “sleeping over” at his house no matter what her mother did to try and keep her away from him. He taught her most everything she knows from tying her shoes to how to perform heart surgery on a cow and some of the finer points of equine dental work. He taught her important life lessons he picked up as an interstellar mercenary and later as a livestock veterinarian such as, “Y’see, Bel there’s two kinds of old surgeons: slow and methodical or good and methodical.” and “Never share a fightin’ hole with someone braver than you.” From a young age, Bel grew up listening to her grandpappy regal her with tales of slinking through alien jungles or trekking across deserts of red sand. The way he talked made it sound like every other day was a new adventure and that was likely by design.

She joined up with the U.S. Space Force right out of highschool and set about becoming a combat medic. No challenge would stop her and she blazed through the programs with top marks all around. She only lost a handful of people across five separate tours of duty and gained a reputation as an angel of mercy right there on Earth. Tales were passed around on-base bars about Bluegrass Bel. Besides her talent with dueling the Reaper, she used her musical ability to keep her comrades entertained as well. She got even better over the course of all those years at her music and could likely go some degree of professional if she had the desire.

She likely would have served a dozen more tours if her pappy hadn’t fallen ill. The diagnosis was simple as it was terrible. Malignant and untreatable brain tumor. The doctors gave him maybe a year at most to live which perhaps didn’t bother the then 84 year old man. He’d lived a good, long life. What was there to be upset about? Bel didn’t take the news quite as well but kept her grief to herself, knowing that Pappy would likely scold her for crying about, as he put it, “spilling a jug of spoiled milk”. The two of them spent a great deal of time together in the last months of his life which helped ease her grieving when he finally did buy the farm 13 months later. Even still, she felt a bit lost without her pappy and couldn’t shake the feeling of having nothing to go back to. She had other family, of course but she’d never felt very close to her parents or her brothers for that matter so when she heard of the Atlas and its mission, she jumped on a chance to make a fresh start for herself. Bel packed up her life and hopped aboard without a second thought.

Affiliations
USSF

Relationships
to be determined

Character Theme
https://youtu.be/i7gD3XBeLk8