Jb

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

Eleven people! This should be an interesting role play.

@levinfist Considering others have just walked in from somewhere or other, I'd say so.

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

@Gallows I WOT M8?! Nah, I kid, I played TT Warhammer for over a decade, and never stopped ready/arguing about the lore.

@Guy0fV4lor F.

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

@Andreyich To clarify, the Emperor didn't use any form of warp magick to try to remove Angron's Nails - nor was he ever going to; he Asked Land To do it the scientific way, he couldn't without kiLling him, and that was that.

There has never been a precedent because no-one has ever written it, yet; pretty much every World Eater we ever see isn't daemonic in nature, just souped up Astartes.

For your sake I shall leave them in his meaty-ass head, no need to thank me and free of charge.

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

I'm not the GM, but from what I know you can't really remove the nails. The Emperor tried on Angron and failed, I don't think you could just cure a random Marine of it.

@Andreyich

Then you clearly missed the entire part about warp-feckery; I'm well aware of how the Nails operate, as I am about Angron etc, the thing is that he reshaped his entire body - yet it is the Butcher's Nails that are the problem? Nor is he a 'random marine', otherwise I imagine he'd have been dead centuries ago. TL;DR they weren't 'removed', they were obliterated with space-magick by a deity.

In the end I'll let @Bloodrose decide whether she'd prefer them or is fine as is, if he's accepted as a character anyway.

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

@Jbcool out of curiosity, would he still have the butchers nails? Or did those deteriorate due to his mutations?

@Guy0fV4lor

I did actually ponder on that, and may well decide just to leave them out, but I thought it may be that Khorne simply left them as some form of practical joke on a favoured servant. I think though, for the sake of him not trying to kill everyone at all times, I might just edit them out.

WH40k: New Frontiers and Promised Lands - A Rogue Trader Adventure

@BangoSkank@Hank@Guy0fV4lor@Bright_Ops@Jamesyco@Searat

Right, make yourselves at home, interact a bit, your host will be with you shortly.

WH40k: New Frontiers and Promised Lands - A Rogue Trader Adventure

@BangoSkank@Hank@Guy0fV4lor@Bright_Ops@Jamesyco@Searat

They had called it a 'gramophone' on Ancient Terra, thousands of years before the coming of the God-Emperor and his benevolent rule, but the sounds that came from it gave Livingstone cause to wonder why it had ever disappeared - the seemingly unconnected melodies and playful pieces of music, put on something called a 'vinyl record', made him somewhat happier given his current state of affairs and so he could not see the downside these simplistic machines may have had.

Ah, but like almost everything to do with his life it was false - the record and gramohphone were reconstructions taken from millennia old blueprints, the music created to the best of the abilites of the one who had tried to bring it back into being. Like this reinvented artefact he too was merely a new construction of something old and lost, his dear father in this case, seen by many as only playing at being half the Trader his beloved Papa was known throughout the segementum to be.

Such thoughts fled his mind as he turned toward more important matters, the sound of brass instruments (or were they, really?) And drums nevertheless filling his peripheral hearing and the interior of his private quarters.

For over a month now the Pride of Praetoria, Firestorm-class Frigate of the Livingstone Dynasty flotilla, had been at anchor near Bakka; the lion-head prowed vessel was there because it required the twenty-five thousand or so pressed men and women to function correctly, a labourious process Edmund found, but one that needed to be done whether he liked it or not.

Six megatonnes of ship was a lot to handle, granted, but did it have to be so darned boring? Indeed, being so close back to his smog-ridden homeworld he had expected some variation to his days, fun even, alas it had not been so and instead he had been forced to sit day-in-and-day-out in the Red Lion tavern while illiterate Praetorians and others from further afield had made their mark, or signed their name if they could.

Now they were finally nearing the end of the process and Edmund could not be happier!

Absent mindedly he poured himself another steaming hot cup of tea, his gloved hand (pinky out, of course!) Lifting it majestically to his lips and...

"FRAK! Ruddy tea, burn me would you, gah."

His monocled face twisted into an expression of extreme distaste, but not anger, the Trader put his cup down and dabbed at the paperwork on his finely carved desk. He had been told to use dataslates, like a normal person, but couldn't bring himself to do so - he knew it was a nightmare for his manservant-cum-secretary Roderick to keep everything in order, but the truth was that he simply didn't care.

"Now, where was I? Ah yes."

There had been exceptions during his time here gathering human materials, certain individuals that could well prove useful, and now Edmund looked once more at their sheets with great interest.

Rupert O' Donald... Head of the Janitorial Union aboard the ship no less.

'Goose' Boucher, a Guard veteran from the Bristonian Hellhounds.

Maximillian Nidavel and Apollyon Kaicero, both men of quality by the looks of it, men that would do well to be by his side and not down below decks with the rest of the ragged masses.

Yes, and there were more.

For the moment he had arranged a meeting with these individuals, a briefing if you will, a statement of intent even; once way or another he would see what these persons were made of, and should they pass his test then they would accompany him... Possibly to where no-one had gone before.

---

---

The Windsor Suite aboard one of the several spacestations orbiting Bakka was one usually reserved for Planatary Governors, emissaries of the Imperial Church, Astartes, and any other powerful individuals. It had at this point been hired out by Edmund Livingstone (with some influence from his old man) and it was here that the small group of 'exceptional persons' he had decided to speak with were to meet.

It was a most spacious room, a large spread of foodstuffs and drink laid out over several white-cloth covered tables, and a variety of comfy chairs and seating made available, the whole thing being more like the lounge of a social club or the meeting room of some society or other than a room aboard an Imperial station.

At the rear end of the garishly wallpapered chamber - patterns of flowers, birds and spiral whorls made in gold adorning a field of deep blue - had been placed a holoprojector and a gene-locked case of notes, all in preparation for the moment when Edmund made his grand entrance.

With the tables of food and drink on one side, the other side of the room held a roaring fireplace and heated up the chamber quite nicely, two large armchairs sat before it.

All about the place were pictures of Imperial glory, of far off places, battles won and figures made divine by their actions in life, holobook shelves slotted in between a number of them.

All-in-all the chamber was a mix between a buffet, a personal library, a tavern common room and a well-to-do individuals lounge.

To here had they been invited, each one given a keycard that was to be swiped before entering, matched to their DNA only and valid for the day on which the meeting was taking place. After that they would become as mere material once more.

Twelve O' clock noon was the time for the meeting, and so a clock chimed in the chamber.

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

@Bloodrose

Minos Bull-Head

Name/Titles: Minos Bull-Head, also called 'the Cleaver'.

Denomination: Khornate

Appearance: Centuries of conflict and his dedication to gathering heads for his brass-clad master have bought change upon Minos that he can't say he does not welcome.

Where once stood a noble and handsome Astartes, now is a creature both more and less than he ever was as a transhuman.

Standing near eight-and-a-half feet tall outside of any form of armour, Minos' once proud visage was twisted and warped by dark energies into the likeness of a bullock - his entire body sprouting crimson fur that had gradually began to grey over time, his face lengthening with a crack of bone and flesh, now snouted in the way of a raging bull, and a pair of large horns jutting from his cranium that he has tipped with bronze.

This entire head is usually covered by a 'helmet' of black iron uniquely formed to fit his head and leave only his mouth, eyes and horns uncovered.

His Astartes physiology too meleded with that of his God, his form becoming infused in such a way that his mass almost doubled - and yet there is not an inch of fat on him - his original power armour unable to contain him and so discarded on some battelfield somewhere. He fights without protection on his torso, save for a branded Mark of Khorne burnt into his chest, trusting in Khorne and his own thickened hide and flesh to keep him safe.

Lastly were his once-human legs, twisted and warped into hoofed limbs, these and his loins covered by ramshackle carapace armour coloured crimson by the blood of innocents.

He fights with no firearms, but carrys two chainaxes of ancient providence, neither one having ever broken or let him down... yet.

Personality: In spite of his bodily form, and of his chosen deity, Minos is far from a stupid brute or frenzied killer.

No, Minos likes to believe he embodies the memories of those legendary figures of Ancient Terra - Akhilles, Alaksander who men called the Great and so on - seeking out the enemies champions and either besting them or hoping that his skull finds its way to the side of Khornes throne.

To this end he is not really a team player, though can (and has) fought alongside others on numerous occasions; it is unfortunate that most of them eventually came to the attention of his blades.

No, he is no strategist or battlefield tactician, but he is not yet a ravening monster either. Indeed he remains calm and collected for the most part, combat only sharpening his focus even further, nevertheless needing to isolate himself after prolonged conflict lest he dispatch those around him.

Overall he lives by his own 'code', though even he could not tell you what it is exactly, going where Khorne bids him and accepting his outbursts of violence as they come.

Biography: Minos began his life as Minosian Etrokalos, inductii of the XII legion, his memories of that early life and his first assemblage on Bodt fading in and out just as all his other memories do with exceptional alacrity.

Great detail will not be given here, but needless to say - as a member of the 'Bloody 13th' expeditionary fleet - Minosian was a part of the transformation which overtook the World Eaters legion and forever fractured them from the once-noble War Hounds to a thousand splintered warbands of crazed psychopaths.

The Horus Heresy camy and went, Minosian shed the blood of friend and foe alike, fully embracing the new patronage of the legion by what he saw as the ultimate warrior deity.

Millennia ultimately passed, entire lifetimes of war consumed within the Eye of Terror, which eventually led to the former World Eaters ascending from a mere pawn of the Blood God to a more gifted champion in his name.

After being transformed by his patron, and uninterested in any form of following, Minos (as he was now styling himself) made his way back into real space and, with Khorne's help, a worthy challenge of his skill.

He has been attracted to the service of Eromulus Krynne because of their desire for the gauntlet, a gauntlet washed in the blood of thousands, an artefact worthy of dedication to Khorne, and so he has made his way to Skuberrima and the Screaming Vortex.

Perhaps, finally, he may find a fight worth having, and if not... well...

Blood for the Blood God, Skulls for the Skull Throne.

Other: Not currently, but I may think of some later.

Okie dokie, again this is a very rough prolfile, but functional if accepted; I will again probably edit it later, but the base details won't change.

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

@Jbcool you could make yourself a harpy. Ridiculously strong AND you can fly.

@Andreyich

Isn't a harpy a type of Tyranid?

I think I've pretty much got an idea figured out, but if anyone does have any more then feel free to keep them coming.