Jb

Star Trek: The New Order

I have just one question...

Can I be a pointy-eared, green-skinned, V-ridge-having, shoulder-pad-wearing, Romulan?

Warhammer 40k: Just Like The Simulations! - A T'au RP

@Ollumhammersong@Ezekiel@caliban22

To any other species, as far as they knew, the utter pressing heat of the Vior'la sun would have been nearly lethal' it pressed on one as if a physical manifestation of the planet and those that dwelt upon it - home to some of the most feared and revered members of the Fire Caste that the T'au Empire had ever produced – the white and red armoured warriors of the Sept ever at the forefront of conflict and expansion in the name of the Tau'va – the Greater Good.

The military academy of Shi'vak was a prestigious military training school among military training schools, the aggressive and obviously hot-blooded nature of the Vior'la Fire Warriors harnessed and forged in the same way that one might forge a blade or cast a bullet. In other academies of the Empire one might find air filtration units designed to relieve some of the heat, such things were never found on Vior'la. On other worlds the Fire Warriors worked as part of the Septs system, a cog in the machine of other T'au colonies, but on Vior'la they were the system.

As Shas'aal Vior'la Ge'lar took her place in the circle of her comrades, preparing herself bodily and mentally for the bonding they were about to undertake, a bond that went far beyond anything that the other species of the galaxy would comprehend, she relished the feeling of perspiration running over her blue flesh.

It was not just outside of her however, but in her very blood she felt the fire. Oh how she longed to get into combat and engage the enemies of the Empire...

Eagerly she relieved herself of her armour, stripping down her torso to an under layer that allowed access to her body but also kept modesty (as much as it was known amongst a race as alien as the T'au) to the allotted level. It was a very Gue'la thing to be ashamed of ones naked form and, although the T'au did not share what amounted to collective guilt over it, the T'au did accept that some propriety was needed unless a pair were to mate and expand the T'au through breeding.

It would be moments before a senior officer arrived with the ritual blade that would bind them, and would then be carried into battle by the one they chose to 'lead' them, her eyes roving over the calm and sterile architecture of the academies primary training hall while she waited for the others to take their places on either side and opposite her.

Warhammer 40k: Kill-Team Epsilon, a Death=][=Watch RP - Currently Open!

"I do not understand, you summoned me here to view this dead planet?"

Shipmaster Apolena Jelka held back a small chuckle from her throat, entirely unphased by the presence of the bio-engineered killing machine at her side. Although only young as far as servants of the Imperium went, at a mere eighty-five Terran years old, she had spent the majority of those solar cycles doing just as she did now - that was transporting of battle-brothers from various Chapters to-and-from the God-Emperors Deathwatch. Now she looked out the window of the viewing deck aboard her Hunter-class Destroyer, shifting a little from one leg to the other, and shmoothing down her pressed black uniform, before constructing a reply.

"It is certainly decieving, my lord," she admitted with no reluctance, her tone one of mild amusement, "Jorval was once home to a substantial population, Imperial citizens all, before it was stripped of life by a tendril fleet of the Tyranid menace."

Milo allowed his handsome features to twist into a sneer, making his visage instantly more ugly, his grey eyes peering at the similarly coloured planet - the dead rock listless and still amid the stars - and the ever-present galactic scar of the Great Rift beyond it.

"Where is the Watch-Fortress? For that is why I am here, is it not. To look upon my new 'home'."

Apolena cleared her throat and gave a curt nod, not looking at the over-large face of the Son of Antaeus while she spoke again, "you were expecting a Ramillies Starfort, perhaps?" It was a flippant question, and rhetorical, one she had asked of many Astartes during her lifetime.

A grunt of affirmation was all she recieved in return.

"This planet is the fortress, lord. It was scoured of life, then scoured of Tyranid bioforms in turn, Watch-Fortress Jorval lies beneath the crust of the world, for there is no core to worry the Deathwatch and no life for lightyears in any direction."

He had to admit that he was impressed, preconceptions about orbiting arrays bristling with armaments dashed by the mortal officers words, his mind and eyes now peering at and analysing the planet before him.

"I can discern no defenses... What can you tell me about them?"

Two piercing blue eyes now looked at Milo from beneath thin brows of straw-blonde hair, the Shipmasters lips forming a smile once more.

"Lord, you know I am forbidden to speak of such things; all I may say is that we are as well defended here as we would be in any Chapters fortress-monastery. Now, if you will excuse me, we will be sending down your shuttle at your leisure."

Milo did not trace her as she walked away, at least not with his eyes, his hyper-swift mind taking in both her fading footsteps and his own thoughts in the blink of an eye. He heard her pause, knew she looked back, before keying in something on the doors control panel and exiting the deck with a small hiss.

Here he was then, clad in simple black robes adorned only with his Chapter symbol upon his chest and nothing more, moments away from what could be a glorious opportunity for he and his Chapter or a failure in both respects.

---

---

Several weeks earlier...

Harsh and unyielding light picked out the stern features of the two behemoths, their footsteps causing the underplating of the ships corridor to shake with each stride, each facially identical and yet they could not be more different.

"How many is that, Apothecary-Prime?"

The older of the pair, his face as creased and worn as a piece of old leather, as craggy as the face of a cliff, turned his blue eyes to the other look at the questioning grey orbs of the other. In them was a look of professional pride, yet it held a sadness that few other Astartes would or could ever feel.

"Twelve, twelve more than we can really afford to lose. They died in the usual manner, their bodies too weak to cope with the alterations."

Milo placed a hand on the pauldron of the Apothecary-Prime, a figure of both scientific and esoteric knowledge within the Sons, and gave what mortals may take for an empathetic smile.

"This is not so bad... why, I never believed I would survive my own evolution, but I did."

"You did, and our Chapter is ever thankful that it was so, but..."

"But now I must take my first oath and leave, leave my brothers for the Deathwatch."

"Yes," the tone of voice was more fatherly now, as Alkmaion sought the right words to say, "we made our pact with the Ordo Xenos, with the Watch, and now we must honour it."

Brother Milo, present yourself at the airlock S-15-98/82, the Deathwatch are waiting.

"This is where I take my leave then, my friend."

"It is," agreed Milo, clasping his own grey armoured hand around the bone-white armour of his comrade-in-arms, "see to our survival until I return, old one."

Both went their seperate ways, not a word between them or a look back given, time was of the essence and the Watch did not like to be kept waiting.

In the back of his mind Milo pictured the successful aspirants, the few victors in the Chapters trials, strapped to tables in sterile surroundings as their entire bone structure altered itself, with a little help from incense-wreathed Apothecaries and skull-faced Chaplains.

He could feel his own body giving a receptic twitch to his thoughts, shifting his focus rapidly away from it and back to the moment at hand.

"Brother-Veteran Milo."

It was a statement directed at him by an emmissary of the Ordo, a thickset and experienced looking man dressed in nearly featureless black bodyglove - only the embellished =][= of the Ordo Xenos glimmering in the ships light, one gloved hand rising to present a rolled item to the gigantic marine.

Milo took it in one hand, carefully cracking the wax seal and unravelling the scroll, his eyes working over the spider-like handwriting there in less time than it took a man to blink.

"I, Brother-Veteran Milo - called 'the Deathless' - give myself to the Deathwatch as fulfilment and assurity of the pact between the Sons of Antaeus and the Emperor's holy Ordo Xenos, this is my first oath."

"So be it," intoned the emissary, "please board the shuttle, and we shall see your oath completed."

---

---

Jorval was as lifeless as it had appeared from orbit, nay even more so, the whole expanse a barren landscape of grey rock underfoot and the twinkling stars and blackness of space above.

Milo marched in a column of figures, eight servitors carrying his arms and armour - fitted with gravity-giving emitters - while tech-adepts moved silently beside and around them; for his own part he had been given the largest enviromental suit they could find, and a rebreather mask, only his own gravity emitters stopping him from being launched into the space surrounding the atmosphere-cleansed rock.

Eventually they came to a rock that appeared to be much like any other, the emissary that that had rejoined him during their embarkation now moving forward and placing what looked to be a rosette against a part of the rock. Moments passed before he took a step back, a hollow coming to life and before long the entire rock had sunk into the earth, leaving a lift shaft in its wake.

Down, down and down they went, the ceilingless lift large enough for an entire platoon of Stormtroopers, the machinery churning as they descended down a shaft of featureless rock as smooth as obsidian or marble.

Milo remained unimpressed, or that was until they began to be lowered into what he assumed was the central area of the Watch-Fortress...

From his vantage point he could see everything, a million small details picked out that a human eye would have missed, the nearing intersection below them a bustling metropolis of vehicles and men, the towering figures of black-clad Astartes wading through groups of red-robed Martians and lower stooped menials, figures garbed in bodyglove holding Hellguns in their hands and looking out through masks shaped like leering skulls.

And the noise... oh the noise!

The intersection itself had clearly once been a cavern of great size, tunnels large enough for tracked APCs or battalions of Militarum snaking away into darkness - no doubt connected to an even further network of corridors, chambers and arenas - a hundred turrets whirring back and forth from every angle, not a few even now keeping pace with the lift as it came to a halt on the caverns floor.

"Welcome to Watch-Fortress Jorval, Brother-Veteran Milo."

Was that a smile from the emissary?

"Your armour and weapons shall be taken away, cared for by our own menials until your second oath is taken and all returned, likely in even better condition than you left it."

Milo was not so sure of this, his eyes focusing on the emissary even as he made a note of the several Kill-teams stooping their way into a Rhino APC some yards away.

"Oh it will all be fine," assured the nameless guide with another smile, preempting the Son in his questions, "we like our new arrivals to get used to training without their armour, you see."

A grunt was all he got in reply, the trail of menials and tech-adepts disappearing into the hustle and bustle of the surrounding crowd along with his second-skin and the equip ment he had used in war for centuries.

"Very well, please, allow me to show you to your chamber."

Warhammer 40k: Just Like The Simulations! - A T'au RP

Full Name: Shas'la Vior'la Ge'lar

Shortened Name Ge'lar

Age: 9

Gender: Female

Appearance: As is typical among the T'au, Ge'lar differs almost not at all from her male counterparts; such differences include the shape of the slit which every T'au have on their forehead, an ever-so-slightly lighter build than her male companions (though still retaining the firm build indicative of the Fire Caste), and a lighter shade of flesh. Of course, to anyone not of the T'au species this would make no difference at all - to them every T'au looks the same.

As with the rest of her squad she dresses in the standard armour of the Fire Warrior, reinforced due to her role as a member of a breacher squad, and showing the white and red colours of her Sept of Vior'la. Like them she is equipped with a clasp of photon grenades and a pulse blaster.

Personality: Ge'lar is near-identical to every other member of her race - optimistic about the future of her Empire, dedicated to fighting for their expansion and survival, and trained from birth to be a professional soldier with all that that entails. Nonetheless, she - as with many others - have come to realise that the universe truly is a large place and that the T'au may well be small fish in a much bigger pond. Far from despairing, she uses this knowledge to press forward in her career as a Fire Warrior and in the service of the Tau'va.

History: Born of the union of two Fire Caste warriors of Vior'la, she grew much as others of her calling and station. By the time she had reached her seventh year in the prestigious Shi'vak Academy she was already thoroughly versed in the slaying of her enemies - simulations though they may have been - taking her part in the Greater Good with an almost pedantic seriousness that bordered on fanatacism. It was already clear that she had no love or mercy for those outside her own, propogating the ideals of the Ethereals if not completely agreeing with their methods.

In her ninth year she came together with her fellow squad members to perform the bonding ritual, the ta'lissera, and cut her flesh to share her blood with the others. After this they would finally see actual combat, and by the Ethereals she could not wait...

Skills: Apart from those shared by all Fire Warriors, she has been given training in the operation of drone piloting and usage; this comes into play as and when it is needed.

Miscellaneous: N/A

Warhammer 40k: Just Like The Simulations! - A T'au RP

@caliban22@CleanBreeze@Ollumhammersong@Ezekiel

Warhammer 40k: Just Like The Simulations! - A T'au RP

Just Like The Simulations!

[Discord: discord.gg/zawQzxh ]

This RP is now accepting new characters

Summary:

- A jaunt of daring and do within the Warhammer 40,000 universe and setting.

- Romance, violence and so forth are expected and accepted, let's just keep it to a 'adult' level without it getting X-rated!

Every action has a consequence, but not every character is the same or possessed of the same motivations or responses, so please bear this in mind.

- Our tale takes place in the most up-to-date period of 40K timeline, the 42nd Millennium.

- Character sheets will be accepted based on merit alone, not 'first come first serve'; the more odd/powerful your character, the more exceptional your character sheet will need to be.

- I fully expect, and intend, for characters to evolve over time during this RP. An example might be that someone loses a limb and seeks a bionic replacement, whether they get one will be both up to me as GM and the participants as a whole; character sheets will then be edited to show any changes, as with a TT role-playing game, and just remember that every action will likely have some form of reaction.

- All Tau are from the Vior'la Sept

In Character Info:

Congratulations shas'saal, you and your comrades are a step away from completing your training, partaking of the ta'lissera and becoming bound as a fire team.

In this glorious age of the Fifth Sphere of Expansion the Empire has come under pressure from adversaries that would see our ruin, yet we are strong, and together with our confederates and allies we shall see ourselves grow ever stronger as the future grows nearer.

Our leaders in the Ethereal Council thank you, and bid you great fortune, for the Greater Good!

Out of character info:

Welcome, one and all, to the grim darkness of the future where their is only war!

After the decimation of both the Great War of Confederation, and the disaster of the Fourth Sphere, the T'au are forced to mobilise themselves and their forces - the Fire Caste in particular - in order both secure and indeed expand the borders in the name of the Tau'va.

In this roleplay you shall be taking the place of part of a Fire Warrior team that specialises as a breacher team, fresh out of a Vior'la based training academy (we'll kick everything off with a wee ta'lissera) and being set up to take the fight to the enemies of the Empire.

Much like Ollum's roleplay here we'll be taking the process through various arcs and having various 'down time' between them.

While it is likely, as much from constant propaganda and upbringing as anything else, that characters will be optimistic and fresh-faced, I expect them to be far more dour by the end of even their first campaign.

I expect everyone will have some knowledge of Warhammer 40K, but for those that might lack a little, I have always found warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Warhammer… to be one of the best places to look. Just make certain that the information has a source, otherwise it is very likely fan made and therefore not canon.

Rules

- Sort your squabbles out in private. If you persistently disagree with another player or they're grieving you, involve me. If necessary, I will get the moderators involved.

- No godmodding (controlling someone else's character).

- Try to post at least once a week, let me know if you can't post soon, and please try for at least three paragraphs.

- One character per player.

- My decisions are final.

Character Sheet

Please submit your character sheets to me by private message before posting in the Character tab.

Full Name: Your character's name. Tau names will be longer, other shorter.

Shortened Name Tau only – the shorthand form of their name.

Age:

Gender:

Appearance: A description of your character's appearance. I'll allow pictures, as T'au do look similar – feel free to include distinguishing marks though. Please include here any weapons they may have, and any armour or clothing as well.

Every character will begin with 'standard issue' items of both, as can be seen here; T'au Wargear.

Personality: What kind of person is your character, what are their motivations etc, and how do they interact with others?

History: A brief sketch of your character's life and history.

Skills: What skills do they possess that may set them apart from the others in their squad?

Miscellaneous: Anything you want to mention but haven't been able to cover yet.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.

For the Tau'va!

Warhammer 40k: Kill-Team Epsilon, a Death=][=Watch RP - Currently Open!

Milo 'the Deathless'

Name: Milo 'the Deathless'

Chapter: Sons of Antaeus

Chapter Demeanour: Unlike most of their kindred of the Twenty-First founding, the Sons received a mutation that was in many ways much more of a boon to them than a curse – as far as those outside the Chapter know, anyway.

To this end they have not the fatalistic streak of the Lamenters, the protrusions and monstrous (unless you count their physical size) mutations of the Black Dragons, nor the xenophobia of the haughty and successful Minotaurs.

As it is, the Sons are much like many other Chapters in terms of their overall outlook on things – they worship the Emperor, respect and pay homage to their Primarch Guilliman (even if those of the Primogenitors disown them at every turn), and lay low every enemy of the Imperium both within and without.

This is not to say they are without flaw, not at all, for the very fact that they are part of the so-called 'cursed founding' had led to an isolated and insular attitude Chapter wide. It was not by their own choice, but fate has caused others to look at them and their founding and stain them all equally.

Their so-called invincibility, the very mutation in which they both take pride and recoil from in shame, marks them out as different, and within the ranks of the Astartes this is not always a good thing to be; it has even seem them clash with Inquisitorial operatives and Mechanicus biologists on more than one occasion, giving them a healthy Chapter-wide cautiousness about both arms of the Imperial machine respectively.

Personal Demeanour: Milo epitomises the 'friendly giant' archetype; though he will often speak little unless spoken to, once he is spoken to he becomes as open and jovial as one can get from a Space Marine. Even so, there are things concerning his own Chapter of which he does not speak, and there are prejudices that he bears other Chapters for past transgressions – most notably those of the Ultramarines and the Black Templars, though for two very different reasons.

In battle he is exactly as he has trained and lived to be, a colossal avatar of the Emperor's wrath, a veteran of a hundred wars who, in spite of this, had no notions of leading others. His style of combat is flexible, adapting and overcoming as and when the need arises, a consummate warrior who takes pride in his work but realises when he has overstepped a bound and is humble enough to apologise for it.

Having said that, there is a certain coldness about him at times – somewhat ethereal and... airy as it may be - a time or a moment, usually when he is reflecting, that reveals a moroseness (perhaps even a loneliness?) shared by most of his brethren. Very rarely does this slip into the view of others, but when it does it is thoroughly obvious when compared to his otherwise gregarious behaviour and attitude.

Speciality: Terminator, though can fulfil most combat roles.

Rank: First Company Veteran

Power Armour History: The standard suit of Mark VIII 'Errant' armour worn by Milo is, as with most of these particular mark, without a significant history to it. Having been produced in a most limited amount, and replacing the Sons Mark VII armour only a century or so before he entered the First Company and subsequently the Deathwatch, it has nevertheless kept him alive and more-or-less in one piece throughout his elongated life thus far.

Of more interest, and with a far more refined pedigree, is the suit of Indomitus Pattern terminator armour which Milo has warn into combat since receiving the honour of the Crux Terminatus and permission to be gifted with what is essentially a relic; as a Chapter of the cursed founding, one looked down on as faulty to the extreme, the parent Chapter of the Sons of Antaeus – the noble Ultramarines – gifted their malformed progeny with but a small portion of terminator armour, this armoured shell being the one which Milo wears to this day.

Each name of a deceased wearer is inscribed in minute script inside the breastplate of the suit and, given the obvious but little renowned resilience of the Sons, his own carries within it but five names; considering it has seen service for millennia, these are odds which seem extremely good indeed.

Description: Milo is quite literally a colossus, standing nearly at the same height as a Primaris marine outside of his armour – in fact he has often been mistaken for one, or queried on why he does not simply take a suit of Mark X armour for himself. Swollen with muscle in a way that dwarfs other Firstborn Astartes only adds to this delusion in others, a side effect of the Sons mutated gene-seed, his fists the size of most other marines heads and his limbs capable of tearing lifeforms apart without the assistance of weapons.

Facially he is much like his sires in the Ultramarines, albeit in a vastly engorged skull and countenance, his features all the same being those that one may see on marble statues of Guilliman and his ilk. The same perfect symmetry, full lips under an aquiline nose, a jaw and cheekbones that mere mortals would kill for, flawless flesh and eyes of slate grey, all topped off by chestnut hair longer than stubble but shorter than a crew-cut.

Out of his armour it is plain that every other part of him has received damage at some time or another, very few parts of his body without thick scars and puncture marks, healed bullet holes and a particularly nasty looking wound from right shoulder to abdomen.

Most frequently he is seen in his suit of Errant armour, the grey and black of his Chapter and then the all-black of the Watch, his Chapters symbol of a skull on a grey background – two lines representing the earth and the sea flowing into and out of the skull on either side – remaining the only part left untouched.

When called for he shall don his terminator armour, the most distinguishing feature being the cross on one shoulder plate – the Crux Terminatus - concealed within it al sliver of the Emperor's own holy protection.

When out of armour he, like most of his brothers, dresses simply in a black robe tied about the waist.

Skills: Milo is possessed of very few what people might call 'unique' skills, the range of most he possesses being simply enlarged versions of standard Astartes training. Of course he could not have reached his rank without superbly refining them, as well as going above and beyond what was required of him, but little of this was due to innate skills that he possessed.

Apart from his proficiency in the use of terminator armour, Milo is considered one of the greatest wrestlers and unarmed fighters of his Chapter, second is this only to his 'skill' as a bulwark in battle about which others frequently rally.

Equipment and Armament: Beside whatever load-out is given them for a particular mission, Milo prefers to wield a heavy form of weapon (bolter, plasma cannon etc) as well as his standard-issue combat knife. In Indomitus armour he favours a 'classic' approach, wielding a storm bolter in one fist and leaving his other as a chain-fist to crackle and whirr with deathly intent.

History: Milo Trophimus began life on a civilised world in the Five-Hundred Worlds (on a planet the name of which he cannot recall, to a family he no longer remembers), hoping one day to join the ranks of the Ultramarines or one of the Primogenitors, neither of which was to be his lot. No, he was selected to be one of the few candidates to undertake initiation into the Sons of Antaeus – a Chapter of which he had never heard, and, perhaps if he had, may never have allowed himself to be taken so easily to join.

His life was torn apart, much like his fragile adolescent body, by giants amongst giants.

The section of his life before induction is not one that shall be discussed here, needless to say he passed trials laid before him and, eventually, was tied down and moulded as the apothecaries of the Sons saw fit.

While it is not known by what method – esoteric, genetic or otherwise – the Sons become so large and so resilient, it is clear that their apothecarion retained the knowledge needed to propagate their number. Indeed, had it not been for gene-seed compatibility and the survival rate of those implanted, their would no doubt have been many more of them.

His first combat was a 'simple' affair, his squad assisting regiments of the Imperial Guard, pinning the enemy in place while the Hammer of the Emperor smashed them asunder. Those were good days, heady days, days that Milo would often look back on and smile about during moments of quiet contemplation.

Those days would not last, nor fully would his humour.

Slowly but surely he rose through the ranks of his Chapter, fighting and slaying whatever foes wherever he was sent, time and again steadying a line or taking the fight into the heart of an enemy.

It was during an operation alongside the Ultramarines and his own Primogenitor cousins of the Sons of Orar that Milo encountered a feeling of bitterness he would come to eventually accept; his Chapter were the mutant collective, the remnants of an experiment on the perfect design of Guilliman which had failed and which his 'relatives' would never look upon with anything but pity and often-times scorn.

Centuries passed, battles and conflicts rushing past like a blur, when ultimate promotion to the First Company was granted.

“Milo,” he was told, “now is your time to take your experience and share it with others, to show them that we are not a Chapter to be ridiculed, detested and despised. We share the blood of the Lord-Protector, and by the Emperor they shall know it. An embarrassment? I think not.”

Ceremony and sombre ritual accompanied his receiving of the Deathwatch missive, a shuttle coming for him within the week, and with as much good humour as he could muster he left the Sons homeworld of Genethlios he set off for an uncertain future...

Warhammer 40k: Kill-Team Epsilon, a Death=][=Watch RP - Currently Open!

Kill-Team Epsilon - Current Squad Members

Mephimedes Ventarian - Veteran Sergeant of the Angel Guard - @Torack

Milo - First Company Veteran of the Sons of Antaeus - @Jb

Aodh Cailpeach - Assault Sergeant of the Storm Wardens - @BCTheEntity

Warhammer 40k: Kill-Team Epsilon, a Death=][=Watch RP - Currently Open!

Kill-Team Epsilon

A WH40K Deathwatch RP

This RP is now accepting new characters

Discord Link: discord.gg/AJvubU2

Summary:

- A jaunt of daring and do within the Warhammer 40,000 universe and setting.

- Characters can come in most shapes and sizes, their age, experience and so forth pretty much up to the participant; that being said, I will immediately reject any God-like beings or over the top characters. (Yes, even Astartes can be over the top sometimes!)

- Violence is mandatory, but don't overdo it.

- Our tale takes place in the most up-to-date period of 40K time line, mid-42nd Millennium.

- All Chapters will be considered, just remember that some may be more welcomed than others.

- I will allow Primaris, but would prefer First Generation Astartes.

- I do not require perfect grammar, nor character sheets as long as my arm, but what I do require is effort put into both CS's and IC posts. Keep them a decent – or above decent – length, and make sure spelling etc is up to snuff. Not hard with a Spell-checker.

- The Astartes are the best-of-the-best, but even they are ultimately mortal, so I want to see some grit and 'realism' in this – no marine running off on their own, no overkill, and so on.

- Character sheets will be accepted based on merit alone, not 'first come first serve'; the more odd/powerful your character, the more exceptional your character sheet will need to be.

- At the beginning of the RP your characters have just arrived at a Deathwatch fortress, ready to take their oath and begin fighting for the Ordo Xenos and the Emperor, I've not decided which fortress yet and it will likely be an IC discovery.

- I fully expect, and intend, for characters to evolve over time during this RP. An example might be that someone loses a limb and seeks a bionic replacement, whether they get one will be both up to me as GM and the participants as a whole; character sheets will then be edited to show any changes, as with a TT role-playing game, and just remember that every action will likely have some form of reaction.

In Character Info:

The Deathwatch Space Marines serve the Ordo Xenos of the Imperial Inquisition as its Chamber Militant, the warriors of last resort when the Inquisition needs access to fire-power greater than the Imperial Guard or a team of its own Acolytes or even Throne Agents can provide.

Across the galaxy there are innumerable hostile alien civilisations that threaten Mankind, from the green-skinned Orks, to the monstrous Tyranids, sadistic Dark Eldar, spectral C'tan, and undying Necrons. It is the sacred task of the Deathwatch to stand sentry against all of these terrible xenos races. They are ready to act when such ancient evils rise to threaten Mankind once more. The Space Marines of the Deathwatch form the first, and often only, line of defence against these inhuman horrors.

Unlike other Space Marines, the Deathwatch are not truly a separate Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes; rather, they are a collection of Veteran Space Marines drawn from all of the different extant Chapters who serve together in the Inquisition's service for a discrete period of time.

To be chosen by one's Chapter to serve in the Deathwatch is a great honour for any Space Marine, as only the most elite and experienced members of a Chapter are ever chosen for this extremely hazardous tour of duty, the specifics of which must be kept secret by Inquisitorial order and sacred oath even from a Deathwatch Astartes' home Chapter.

Deathwatch Space Marines do not usually form the standard tactical groups like squads and companies generally used by the Adeptus Astartes. Instead, they operate as small special forces units in close-knit groups of specialists called Kill-teams.

If a xenos threat is particularly dangerous, several Kill-teams may be assigned to deal with it, but if the threat is still too much for even the Deathwatch to handle, the Inquisition will be forced to turn to a full Space Marine Chapter or to multiple regiments of the Imperial Guard to deal with it. In general, if a group of Deathwatch Kill-teams cannot deal with a xenos incursion, that means that the Imperium has a major conflict on its hands and must deploy a full range of its military forces to meet the threat.

---

As the 41st Millennium drew to a close, the shield of the Deathwatch was shaken, shivered and brought to the edge of destruction.

Never before have so many threats to the fabric of Mankind's realm risen up at one time; never before have so many powerful xenos races sought to take the galaxy for their own. A thousand horrors gnaw and tear at the fabric of destiny, foes old and new emerging to take their chance as Mankind is torn apart by its long war against Chaos.

The Eldar fight for a resurgence ten millennia in the making, taking no prisoners as they seek to burn brightly before the end.

Their vile Commorrite cousins, the Dark Eldar, intend to line their larders before the apocalypse breaks, raiding in never-before seen numbers to leave once-thriving worlds empty of sentient life.

The Necron dynasties awake faster than the Deathwatch can put them down, long-buried armies lurching to life as ancient overlords attempt to restore a lifeless order to the era of mayhem that greets their awakening.

The Orks, a threat long turned upon itself by the Deathwatch's surgical raids, are finally uniting under the prophet of Armageddon. Their green tsunami of violence is set to drown the stars.

On the Eastern Fringe the tech-savant armies of the Tau Empire expand aggressively, their invention of the ZFR Horizon Accelerator Engine pushing them across the Damocles Gulf to steal worlds from the Imperium at a shocking pace.

Further out drift the numberless Bio-ships of the Great Devourer. Hive Fleets Behemoth and Kraken push their rapacious tendrils further coreward with every standard year, leaving nothing but scoured balls of rock in their wake. A dozen others encroach upon the Imperium's borders, their living Bio-ships creeping from the void in numbers beyond sane measure. Perhaps it is Hive Fleet Leviathan that should be feared the most, for its splinter fleets emerge from under the galactic core to menace Segmentum Solar -- the seat of human civilisation itself.

With every standard year more requests are levelled unto the wider Adeptus Astartes by the Deathwatch, citing ancient oaths to claim tithe after tithe. Yet the Astropathic messages flow both ways. Hundreds of Chapters are formally requesting their Battle-Brothers be discharged from their Long Vigils and sent back, despite the tarnishing of their honour that entails. In this time of woe, every Space Marine is vital in the war against the dark powers that seek to capsize reality itself. Whether Humanity will survive to see in a new age is unknown, but the Deathwatch are fighting with every iota of their strength to ensure it.

Out of character info:

Welcome, one and all, to the grim darkness of the future where their is only war!

As part of a group, you shall be forming a newly recruited Kill-team of the Emperor's (or should I say the Inquisitions) militant arm, the Deathwatch; you have been chosen because you are exceptional, steadfast in your faith and loyalty to Terra, and above all capable of taking on missions that even your average battle-brother would likely be unable to complete successfully.

Nevertheless, no marine works alone – with your battle-brothers you will be forming an elite unit to act as the last resort against Xenos, heretics and threats from both within and without. Your faith must be strong, and your trust in one another unwavering. Even the simplest doubt can lead to Chaos.

To begin with, as stated above, we will have a short section where you all take the oath to the Deathwatch - basically getting everyone together - on an unyet decided Deathwatch fortress, from there we shall go ahead with a narrative I have prepared and see where it takes us.

I expect everyone will have some knowledge of Warhammer 40K, but for those that might lack a little, I have always found warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Warhammer… and warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Deathwatch to be one of the best places to look. Just make certain that the information has a source, otherwise it is very likely fan made and therefore not canon.

Rules

- Sort your squabbles out in private. If you persistently disagree with another player or they're grieving you, involve me. If necessary, I will get the moderators involved.

- No godmodding (controlling someone else's character).

- Try to post at least once a week, let me know if you can't post soon, and please try for at least three paragraphs.

- One character per player.

- Only one of each 'specialist' rank; that means Tech-marines, apothecaries and so forth.

- My decisions are final.

Character Sheet

Please submit your character sheets by Private Message to me, myself and I - once accepted you can post them in the Char tab.

Name: Your character's name. A pretty obvious one, so enough said.

Chapter: To which Chapter do they usually belong? If unsure about selection, please ask.

Chapter Demeanour: What is the character of their Chapter, and therefore themselves? What quirks does it give them, etc?

Personal Demeanour: What kind of person is your character, what are their motivations etc, and how do they interact with others? Also please include any hatreds, grudges, and so on.

Speciality: E.G. Tactical, assault and so forth. This includes Chaplains and the like.

Rank: His rank, obviously.

Power Armour History: What deeds has it seen? Who has it protected and armoured? Why was it given to this particular marine? Or is there nothing special about it at all...

Description: A written description of your character's appearance. No pictures. Please include here any armour or clothing as well.

Skills: What skills do they possess, how did they come by them, what have they used/been using them for?

History: A sketch of your character's life and history, preferably until their arrival at the fortress. Give me three solid paragraphs, at least, please.

Equipment and Armament: What do they bring with them/carry on their person? This includes weapons. Be sensible when deciding, as weight can be an issue even for a marine.

Every marine is issued, as basic, a bolter or bolt Pistol with shot selector, frag grenades and krak grenades; anything specialist - such as heavy weapons etc - are issued out for particular missions.

Miscellaneous: Anything you want to mention but haven't been able to cover yet.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.

The Emperor Protects.

WH40k: Of Scale & Claw - An Alpha Legion Roleplay

No-one wants to join my cult. :(