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Warhammer 40k: Wheels within Wheels, an Inquisitorial RP

Discord Link: discord.gg/ArJyXTF

The universe changed completely with the fracturing of the Milky Way in two, and with the resurrection of the Primarch over a century ago, but two things remained and endured as they had for thousands of years - the foes of Mankind in all their forms and with all their perils, and the Emperor's Holy Inquisition standing firm to combat them and root them out wherever thy may be found.

As with everywhere within the Imperium, the Helvin Expanse - a sector of space on the fringes of Imperial authority as it is - did not remain untouched by the fallout of the Rift, and the Inquisitions foothold there, known as the Tamahai (tah-mah-hay) Conclave, have began to mobilise on a scale not seen before to counter potential threats.

Inquisitor Lycus Xande of the Ordo Xenos has set his Acolytes (or one group of them at least) on the trail of a missing member of his retinue, an Interrogator no less, who has failed to report in at the allotted times; they are now considered dead or missing in action, and truthfully Inquisitor Lycus would prefer it to be the latter.

Taskana IV is the planet, seek out and recover the asset, or failing that dispatch them to the Emperor's mercy, is the goal... and time is never on ones side.

Out-of-Character

I've been thinking of starting an Inquisition/Dark Heresy-based RP for a while now, and decided that now would be as good a time as any - if you enjoy the adventures of Eisenhorn and Ravenor, if you were a fan of FFGs Dark Heresy TTRPG, if you like getting in close and personal with the inner machinations of the Imperium and beyond (and possibly with near limitless power to back you up), and if you're looking for such an RP that isn't going to shy away from more non-PG subjects within 40k, then I'd suggest signalling your interest in this here thread.

As for the meat and vegetables...

Taking place through a series of Acts/Sessions/Scenarios, we shall be dropped into the roles of newly-minted Acolytes for one Inquisitor Lycus Xande of the Ordo Xenos, a figure who has not been seen in person by anyone for quite some time but is nevertheless as active as ever; the typical archetypes and representatives of the various Imperial branches are welcome, as are more unorthodox figures depending on a small chat with myself.

Character Statements

We're going to go a little more prose-based for the Character Sheets in this RP, and this is how, a simple statement with the first half giving the vitals of ones character - looks, age etc, anything of the like that the writer thinks others need to know - while the second half will be an in-character scene, although what your character is doing is entirely up to the writer.

Characters will hopefully grow as the RP progresses, and specific missions may require specific armaments and the like, so don't get too comfortable with a standard set-up for ones character.

Anyway.

Please post your CS in the OOC thread inside a hider, after all is approved and done it can then be coped to the Char section.

If you've any questions then please feel free to ask.

The Emperor protects.

Warhammer 40k: Wheels within Wheels, an Inquisitorial RP Interest Thread

Bump for Inquisitorial Discord link.

Warhammer 40k: Wheels within Wheels, an Inquisitorial RP Interest Thread

Sure.
Can I still recycle Goose for this one?

@Searat

Sure thing!

Warhammer 40k: Wheels within Wheels, an Inquisitorial RP Interest Thread

I've been thinking of starting an Inquisition/Dark Heresy-based RP for a while now, and decided that now would be as good a time as any - if you enjoy the adventures of Eisenhorn and Ravenor, if you were a fan of FFGs Dark Heresy TTRPG, if you like getting in close and personal with the inner machinations of the Imperium and beyond (and possibly with near limitless power to back you up), and if you're looking for such an RP that isn't going to shy away from more non-PG subjects within 40k, then I'd suggest signalling your interest in this here thread.

As for the meat and vegetables...

Taking place through a series of Acts/Sessions/Scenarios, we shall be dropped into the roles of newly-minted Acolytes for one Inquisitor Lycus Xande of the Ordo Xenos, a figure who has not been seen in person by anyone for quite some time but is nevertheless as active as ever; the typical archetypes and representatives of the various Imperial branches are welcome, as are more unorthodox figures depending on a small chat with myself.

If this sounds like an RP for you, then please say so below, once I've found 4-5 willing meatshields operatives I'll get a Discord server up and running and, ultimately, an IC thread.

EDIT:

Discord server is here, for anyone that's genuinely interested!

discord.gg/ArJyXTF

Warhammer 40k: Sons of Titan - A Grey Knights RP

@Dusty@BCTheEntity@Andreyich

In the subterranean warrens below the battlefield...

Sweat, along with other more bodily functions, dripped from the quivering flesh of the huddled multitudes roped together and gathered like cattle in the underground 'Cathedral of Anash'Ra' – a name given to the vast cavern by those cultists initially sent to Anairu to sow the seeds of its destruction in the name of Slaanesh.

On a plateau of granite there was a focal point upon which only the most determined or iron-willed of the planets kidnapped inhabitants would look, adorned as it was by the cults sacrificial altar of supernaturally 'steaming' metal – if it was metal, looking more like a pulsing purple cocoon, wisps of multicoloured gas drifting toward the caverns highest points before evaporating as if by magic – three figures surrounding it... four, if you included the sacrificial individuals.

The foremost among them was a masked figure in robes that never seemed to stop changing colour, sometimes agonised faces seemingly pressing against the flesh-like material, crying to be set free, his hook-nosed mask equally shifting in texture and colour if not in form; due to this, beside his height and any pallid skin that could be seen, the man below was visually an enigma, the two towering ones at either end of the altar less so.

Both were half-men, their lower bodies furred and hoofed, their features warped to that of horned Beastmen, Satyrs even if one should know those most ancient of Terran myths!

One stood in silence and clutched a two-handed axe in huge hands, both the weapon and the beast drenched in the blood of a hundred or more innocents, while the other... the other was in an obviously perpetual state of priapic arousal, those being sent to the Prince of Pleasure doing so after hideous violation – at least their deaths following that were swift and sure.

“Magister!” A purple-cloaked messenger sprinted past the bloody-handed executioner without a glance, kneeling before his earthly lord, “Magister, above ground, the-”

“The Astartes have arrived.”

It was a statement rather than a question, but the courier seemed unmoved by the pronouncement and simply gave a nod of acknowledgement, “I have never seen their like before, but they are here your holiness, as you have no doubt foreseen. They shine in silver and fight with the fury of many.”

There was an intake of breath and a slight twitch of one hand from the Magister, “we shall need to quicken our pace! Move these cattle faster, we shall call for reinforcements and summon our god a little earlier than I had intended.”

---

The gore and offal of several dozen attackers coated Bieito quite nicely as he threw himself through the wattle-and-daub wall of the nearest building, a fine layer of dried clay adding itself to the blood and multiple small scorch marks where high-powered las had impacted on his armour, dust moving all around him as he stomped toward the opposite wall only to cease his movement for a moment.

Curled in the corner of the building, which had obviously been a habitation before he somewhat barrelled into it, were two people – one a small child and the other a women who glared at him with unrestrained fury... but also the correct amount of fear – Bieito feeling absolutely nothing as he looked at them, not a twinge of some primal familiarity nor a sense of needing to keep them safe, it was odd to him that at this moment he pondered on how odd it was to him that it even was so odd to him to feel like a hollow shell!

For a further several second he wondered if he should kill them both, they were worthless and corrupted and would surely burn in the flames of retribution anyway, so why not?

As it happened the choice was taken from him rather unexpectedly, the distinct sound of a multi-laser being shifted into position not far off causing him to turn his gaze away for a split second, snapping fleetly back as a child's cry was cut off by a crack and a snap and a hysterical twitter.

Framed instantly by his targetting reticle was the now non-existent mother holding up the head of her offspring, an elongated tongue moving to lap up warm blood even as her face started to melt and reform in a visage that was created to make any mortal drop to their knees in adoration... but he was far from mortal.

“Come,” it crooned even as it – oh it was an it alright – nonchalantly threw the head to one side, squatting on haunches that had began to break and reknit together, “join us Space Marine, join the orgasmic embrace of Sla-.”

It never would finish uttering blasphemies, the Grey Knights halberd flicking out faster than the eye could see and cutting the earthly shell of the half-formed Neverborn in two, ceasing the process.

“Brothers, we must be on our guard” warned Bieito over his helmet vox, even now scanning about for emerging threats, “the enemy know we are here and I believe are moving to fortify choke-points in the town, that and they are finally summoning help from the beyond. Daemons.”

He could not keep a little hint of relish from his tone, what Knight in their right mind did not wish to test their mettle against direct servants of the Dark Gods?

“Recognised, Brother Bieito,” came a crackling reply from their Justicar, “we must all move with extreme caution and extreme prejudice, we are but five – even if we are Knights of Titan – do not hesitate to slay those you find, for each is a potential portal. We must head toward entrance sigma-epsilon-epsilon with all haste.”

Star Wars: A New Batch - A Clone Squad RP [CLOSED]

@The Whacko@CaptainBritton@Deadnaut@f0un@Ibzan@Bastian

CT-6619 managed to arrive after what may have been a rather integral part of knowledge, quickly knocking off a salute to the Mandalorian instructor and slipping his training helmet over his head, making a quick mental acknowledgement of those assembled - noting with an internal sigh that CT- 1184, the loudest of their team, was absent - before taking his place on the line along with Troopers 8246, 7627, 7331 and 7642.

"Apologies for the lateness brothers," he said through gritted teeth, a small grunt emerging from behind his teeth as he released his DC-15A was only at half charge, "and sorry Instructor Harkin, I was attending to important matters in the barracks, sir."

Attention... attention... training simulation to begin...

Five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

A klaxon blared and the room immediatly shifted into what some might see as a smaller version of the primary Citadel course, walls emerging from the ground at several points, a higher platform rising to overlook the course at the farthest end of the room, and the clanking sound of a dozen or so B1-droids powering up being all too familiar to the Cadets.

"We need to get that gun set up," half-yelled 6619 as he advanced to the nearest shoulder-height wall at a crouch, pointing to a patch of higher elvation off to the right side of the course, "if Bruiser were here we could send him in as bait."

Droids were moving through the course now, some more visible than others, painted white with targets marking them in stark red, coming on like the programmed mechanoids they were and always seeking their more organic enemies.

"Thoughts, comrades?"

Star Wars: A New Batch - A Clone Squad RP [CLOSED]

Tipoca City Military Complex, Kamino, 22 BBY

@The Whacko@CaptainBritton@Deadnaut@f0un@Ibzan@Bastian

"We all knew that something was happening, we just couldn't fathom what, don't think even our flat-faced Kaminoan handlers or even our training instructors did either; it wasn't long after that Jedi had come to visit, the man who was our genetic template leaving us for the wider galaxy without so much as a word – I suppose his job was done after all – a feeling of agitation... of an oppressive but intangible sense of cogs turning over the galactic horizon...

It was barely a week before Geonosis that we began to be trained all that much harder by those we – at least some of us – had come to see as surrogate parents, completely unaware that soon we would be engaging the Separatist Army across a dust-filled hellscape, muzzle-to-muzzle, programmed robot against their organic opposite, a literal baptism by firepower.

How could we have known, how could any of us have known, that very soon the most mature of us would be taken from our barracks with barely a fraction of us returning to Kamino?"

- Anonymous Clone, 105th Journal

CT-6619, considered to be one of the more thoughtful (though still within parameters, of course) soldiers of 4/2nd Battalion – a mere designation without meaning, at least until they were called upon to fight in an official capacity – field stripped his Deece once more, taking apart and laying out each separate component with as much ease as one might consume protein rations in the mess hall; of course it had been implanted into all of them, just one of a hundred necessary skills to function as elite soldiers in the Grand Army of the Republic, the maintaining of ones weapon wrote in genetic code which could not be removed.

He had been at it for hours, yet he was paying as much concentration to act as a child might, his focus turned inwardly as it usually was and his mind working faster than his hands.

Ever since the departure of their progenitor he had been pondering on things he knew the Kaminoans would find unsightly, well aware of what happened to those clones found to be anything less than perfect and perfectly obedient, unable or unwilling to shake the thoughts and feelings that it was only a matter of time now until... until... well, he didn't know!

All he knew was that the long-necks were getting more worked up in their attitude, more strenuous in their perfection of the next batch of clones, the cadre of Mandalorians and others becoming more savage in their methods and the little trips to the Citadel Challenge course more regular – slowly he reached up and traced one of the many scars he had received recently, a grim expression on his face.

Instructor Jendri had imbued he and his brothers with the customs and culture of his people, in a genetic sense of his people though he was a clone, but even the father-like giant had been more unforgiving and brutal over the last couple of months. Six-six-one-nine didn't blame him however, believing that he had most likely been instructed to by those above him in the hierarchy, the training they received from their alor nothing in the way of 'soft' at the best of times, although usually accompanied by some form of moral or psychical lesson to go along with it.

Speaking of which...

The other members of Rawl Squad would in all likelihood already be at training room 7-2-12 by now, six-six-one-nine having just snapped out of his reverie to realise where he had to be, scooping up his yellow-visored practise helmet and returning his blaster rifle to the barracks armoury.

Time for training... again.

Such is the life of a clone.

Warhammer 40k: Sons of Titan - A Grey Knights RP

The infinite sea of ink-black nothingness stretched as far as the eye (and even the mind's eye) could see – here, in the outer reaches of the Segmentum Tempestus, the sleek shimmering silver cruiser waited unmoving, and always the sickly purple scar of the Cicatrix Maledictum pulsed and oozed in the void. Like some patient bird of prey it was etched with psychic wards and a Gellar field far more advanced than any other in the Imperium, everything from its armour to its reinforced structure speaking of a supremely fast and hyper-technological vessel of war.

Those sentient lifeforms aboard, though there were few enough of them, were no less impressive in most regards; the majority of these were regularly mind-wiped Chapter Serfs, efficient and highly trained but only fractionally less vulnerable to corruption than those of other Astartes formations, the true power aboard the Lamiae Mortis contained within only five individuals, five superhuman warriors of the God-Emperor who had been brought to this place for a purpose and one purpose alone…

---

Kallikles, Justicar of the Grey Knights Chapter, leader of one of only three Strike Squads contained within the chapters Eighth Brotherhood under Brother-Captain Mithrac Tor – known colloquially as the 'recruit' brotherhood, being populated chiefly by the chapters newest neophytes – allowed a sour expression to creep across the three-quarters of his face that remained flesh and were not taken up by finely crafted bionics, his left eye glowing in the dim light of the cruisers innermost sanctum, a place which also served as a shrine and a briefing room.

Out of his armour Justicar Kallikles was an imposing figure but now, clad as he was in all his panoply of war, he would have been the dread and terror of any mortal unlucky enough to challenge him. It was not for this that he or his brethren had been crafted though, everything from his armour to his demeanour showing that he and they had been forged to fight something more and less... much, much, less.

“Brothers,” came his rumbling voice, a rolling thunder that cut through the incense and candle lit shade of the chamber, “I will not mince my words and I will not extol platitudes to you, you are Grey Knights and know what must be done – this is your first true test as my Battle-Brothers, to be victorious here will ensure your ascension to full brotherhood and gifting of the holy Tactical Dreadnought Armour, to fail will ensure a swift residence in the Dead Fields.”

With a simple wave of his hand a central holo-projector leapt into life, the sallow light causing Bieito to narrow his eyes momentarily – not actually something he had to do due to his implants, and probably a hangover that even his transformation from man to demi-god couldn't change – as the rotating orb of Anairu spun around and around.

“It looks safe enough, a far-out planet of dirt and dust with a minimal population of nomadic tribes” commented the Justicar, “but it is far from it.”

A flicked finger and the projection narrowed to pinpoint a location on the southern continent of the planet, enhancing further to show what was on the face of it your average pre-civilised gathering of mud huts and trading bazaars, but there was something not right... to anyone who knew what to look for, even the shape of the village seemed... off. Indeed, if one continued to look harder they would soon realise it was constructed along a specific shape. Very specific.

“The Prince of Pleasure,” hissed Bieito from between his teeth, the symbol of Slaanesh traced out by the village and its parameters as clear as day.

“Just so,” confirmed his superior, an armoured digit penetrating the projection like a blade, “brothers, the Cult of Anash'Ra – a chaotic assemblage we have thought gone a hundred times over – is once more abroad on Anairu. We do not believe they have been able to summon their daemonic master yet, though minor entities may be present, as well as multiple human targets.”

Simple, straightforward, and to the point; they would descend like the Emperor's own wrath and snuff out this movement before it could gain traction and summon to them their patron deity.

Alas, Brother Olympio feared there was more to the matter. In the many hours of meditation he had on the travel through the Empyrean to the system he touched many of the flows of fate. There were so many things he saw! Alas, the vast majority were unimportant. From seeing the dinners families would have for a month to the figures of Administratum clerks regarding water filtration systems to be delivered for local system monitors.

But among all the nonsense he was able to sift out things that were very much useful.

“I fear that is not all, my Brothers.” he stated, realizing he may earn the ire of the Justicar using the term that may arguably have not yet been earned. “I know not yet how, but this… situation relates far more to the galaxy at large than simply threatening the security of this system. The Thousand Sons, Abaddon, they are pertinent.”

Taking a deep breath, he knew this was all a load of information that was just there, unusable with how it was given. “I simply wish to say that whatever we face may be greater than anticipated. I do not wish to suggest that it is beyond our competence until such is proven but I would simply give this as a warning to exercise caution.”

“All the more reason for us to end this threat swiftly.” This was the first thing Brother Elazar had said in quite a while, though he had been far from inactive in the meantime. For most of the trip, he had been practicing with his weapons of choice, twinned falchions, in a training room aboard the ship; it was only as they approached the target world that he brought himself to this room, and even now he was visibly flexing his extremities as if to keep from rising and pacing outright. “If the Traitor Legions are involved, foiling them may be a matter of minutes and seconds.”
“Prepare yourselves, we engage in an hour. Emperor be with us.”

A hiss of the doorway, a gust of chill air, and the four Battle-Brothers were left alone to armour themselves and ready themselves for battle.

---

Bieito was unable to be ‘shaken’ in the mortal sense, it just wasn’t part of his genetic makeup, but he was nevertheless concerned by the words of Brother Olympio - arguably the most gifted psyker among them after the Justicar - the entirety of Squad Kallikles sitting silently in contemplation even as their drop-pod sped away from the Strike Cruiser and into the atmosphere of Anairu. It was impossible that Kallikles himself had not heard the words of his charge, but he seemed completely unphased, no doubt focused completely on the task at hand… just as he should be.

A quick glance over his helmets HUD was all Bieito needed to tell him that all was in order (at least according to the blinking diagnostics), though this didn’t stop him from running armour-covered fingers over his wrist-mounted bolter and the smooth adamantium haft of his force halberd, the shaking turbulence of atmospheric entry giving way to a much smoother course.

On the outside the pod was a blazing red streak, puncturing through the overcast sky to slam down on the north-western outskirts of the accursed village, every member of the squad already on their feet by the time metal touched unstable soil.

“Stay alert and kill anything that moves, we are not here on a mercy mission; remember, we are the hammer!”

Justicar Kallikles did not need his helmet to amplify his voice, but the iron-edged words that tumbled from his lips nevertheless came as cold as a crystal clear mountain stream, causing the blood to alight and the soul to steel itself.

The ramp of the pod descended with a hiss, seemingly taking eons in the mind of the battle-fuelled neophyte, Bieito counting down the very seconds until it too impacted with the earth to reveal a brown-looking world and multiple buildings before them; they were a ramshackle lot of structures, some appearing to have had some attempt made to fortify them with sandbags, razorwire and gun emplacements, while their did not seem to be a single adversary to be seen.

Indeed there was not, although this did not last long, the squad barely having left the cover of the pod before an ear-piercing alarm began to wail mournfully and the village began to erupt into movement.

There… a figure in robes and carrying a simple lasgun… targeting…

The first kill dropped to the floor in a mist and spray of gore, Kallikles using his in-helmet systems to sketch a path toward the largest and most central structure, shifting his storm bolter about to track the increasing number of hostiles.

“Onward,” he bellowed through his helmet's grille ,“and fear no evil.”

Star Wars: A New Batch - A Clone Squad RP [CLOSED]

A New Batch - A Clone Squad Roleplay

Not going to lie, this will follow much the same path as Domino Squad, at least in the beginning, eventually leaving Kamino as 'shinies' for the wider galaxy; at this point I intend to post them to a non-canon legion under a non-canon Jedi, the details of which can be discussed as things go ahead.

If you're a fan of the Clone Wars series and the journey of Domino Squad, of Band of Brothers, Sharpe or really any other squad-focused film or TV series, then this may well be the RP for you! This is going to be 18+ and certainly not Disney-friendly, something more gritty (I'm aware it's Star Wars and not WWII), so if that's something you enjoy I can only repeat my earlier statement.

Where we begin is pretty set - they're clones after all - but where this could end is really quite open, as far as things go.

So if you're not interested at this point then this is likely not your cup of tea, but if you are then please feel free to say so, or join the Discord server here: discord.gg/4Umx5Ne.

I'll also be happy to answer any questions, as always.

P.S

We'll be using Legends over Canon because 'eff Disney and up the Mandos!

---

Plot

In the year 32 BBY the earliest batches of Clones of the Grand Army of the Republic were cloned from the DNA of Jango Fett, a Mandalorian bounty hunter. Fett and thousands of other bounty hunters and mercenaries have been training the men for the last ten years to become the deadliest army in the known galaxy. Through Kaminoan technology and science a clone ages twice as fast as a normal human. At ten years of age the men of the Clone Army have the body of a twenty year old Jango Fett. They were implanted with a biological chip at birth to make them more docile than the original donor but are still encouraged to exhibit free and creative thought.

The clones of the 105th Legion and the batches contained within were some of the earliest to reach maturation, this fact combined with their large number of Mandalorian-born drill sergeants (how this came to be is unknown, although it seemed odd for so many to be training those outside of clone commando formations), meant that when the time came for their deployment during the First Battle of Geonosis – an action that would see them forged in a most terrible crucible of war – they thought themselves prepared...

Our own tale begins and ends with those members of Rawl Squad, named after the swift-moving and deadly Mandalorian serpents, among the first clones to leave the facilities of Kamino and head for the stars, unknowing of the dangers and tribulations they would face in the darkness of the galaxy.

We begin mere days before the 'activation' of the first clone forces and, though they do not yet know it, for them begun the clone wars have.

---

Character Sheets

Trooper

Clone Number: (Ex. CT-5536)

Army Rank/Role: (Ex. Trooper, Medic etc)

Nickname: (Ex. Fireball)

Personality/Bio:

Weaponry: (Standard for a trooper is a DC-15A Blaster Rifle or DC-15S Blaster Carbine, as well as one or more grenades of varying type)

---

Weapons

DC-15A Blaster Rifle

DC-15S Blaster Carbine

DC-17 Blaster Pistol

Z-6 Rotary Cannon

RPS-6 Rocket Launcher

Thermal Detonators/EMP Grenades

DC-15X Sniper Rifle

DP-23 Plasma Shotgun

---

Accepted Characters

Instructor Harkin Jendri (TheWhacko)

Name: Harkin Jendri

Age: 48

Species: Human

Homeworld: Gargon

Army Rank/Role: Private, auxiliary infantry

Personality/Bio: Born on Gargon, Harkin was one of many orphans taken as a foundling by the Mandalorian clans, and spent most of his childhood raised in traditional Mandalorian fashion in defiance of the New Mandalorian ways, taught the ways of battle at an early age and expected to strike out as a mercenary when he came of age. When the newly declared Mandalore, Jaster Mereel called for the reformation of the Mandalorian people into the Haat Mando'ad, the True Mandalorians, Harkin was eager to leap at the chance to bring honor and glory back to his people. After Jaster's death on Korda 6, he continued to fight with their new leader, Jango, though he was not present at the Battle of Galidraan. Afterward, when most of the surviving True Mandalorians scattered, he struck out on his own as a bounty hunter, working for both Republic Security and various Hutt kajidics. When his Mandalore once again called on him to help train the new Grand Army of the Republic, Harkin could do nothing but accept the honor, joining the Cuy’val Dar, where he would train the standard clones in the ways of war. Now with the beginning of the Clone Wars, Harkin, for love of the clones he has come to see as his own little brothers, defies Jango's command that he should no longer exist in order to enlist the GAR and fight alongside his vode.

Harkin

Beskar’gam

Weaponry: MerrSonn Scalphunter carbine, DH-17 pistol, beskad sword, jetpack with mounted missle, wrist-mounted flamethrower, fragmentation grenades.

Trooper CT-6619 (Jb)

Clone Number: CT-6619

Army Rank: Trooper

Nickname: None... yet.

Personality/Bio: As with all of his squad mates, and indeed the entirety of the clone forces provided to the Republic, CT-6619 is almost exactly alike to his template Jango Fett in personality as well as body - even so far as to be part of the mockingly named Kih'Mando (Little Mandalorian) clones of the 105th, so-called because of their particular reverence and adoption of Mandalorian quirks and customs.

One thing that does make him stick out, and even show some spark of individuality, is his consistently thoughtful attitude, and it has often been remarked that he is a deep thinker and cool-headed under pressure – at least during the simulations and training sessions.

There is leadership potential, if only he could become less overcautious in his ways; with the incoming declaration of war and deployment to Geonosis there is no telling how he may end up.

Weapons: DC-15A Blaster Rifle and clutch of Thermal Detonators/EMP Grenades.

Trooper CT-7627 (CaptainBritton)

Clone Number: CT-7627

Army Rank/Role: Heavy Trooper / Assaultman

Nickname: None.

Personality/Bio: Nearly indistinguishable from his comrades on the physical front, 7627 takes pride in the unity and collectivism of the Grand Army's clone legions, acting as an unquestioning cog in the massive war machine designed right under the galaxy's nose. His reverence for Mandalorian custom and the brotherhood of the Resol'nare is notable, and his respect and loyalty to the Cuy'val Dar, particularly their batch's instructor by the name of Harkin Jendri, is only outmatched by his undying loyalty to the Republic.

7627's personality is marked by his dedication to conventional tact and indeed his aggression in combat. His actions are generally carefully considered, but he is quick to anger and impatient to the point of frustration, his actions becoming more impulsive and reckless as his temper is elevated. In training, his short fuse was largely controlled by rigid instruction, but whether that lasts into real combat is to be seen.

He does not seem to sport the same leadership potential and free-thinking attitude as his progenitor, however his specialty seems to lie in his accuracy with a shoulder-mounted launcher, marked as well by his proficiency as an armorer/weapons expert.

Weaponry:
- DC-15A Blaster Rifle
- RPS-6 Shoulder-fired Launcher
- 2x Thermal Detonators
- Clone Individual First Aid Kit (Emergency Bacta Auto-Injector, 4x Low-Concentration Bacta Patches, Single-Use Synthflesh Kit, Wound Dressings and Salves, Disinfecting Wipes)

Trooper CT-8246 (Bastian)

Clone Number: CT-8246

Army Rank/Role: Medic

Nickname: None yet

Personality/Bio:

Like each of his brothers, 8246 is a perfect likeness and near-exact approximation of Jango Fett's personality. Also like the other clones, he possesses some slight variations in character from the original template. During his growth and training on Kamino, he was noted by the Mandalorian instructors and the Kaminoans for his composure and inexpressive body language, leading to him being frequently called "stone-faced" or "cold." Though eager to participate in training exercises and excelling at working with his fellow clones as a team, he showed comparatively little ambition or competitive spirit, instead being content to simply do his part. Though this has gained him a reputation for being dispassionate, 8246 nevertheless has finely-honed physician's instincts and is fiercely protective of each of his brothers in Rawl Squad, as well as anyone that requires treatment under his vibroscalpel.

Weaponry:

DC-15s Blaster Carbine

Medical Satchel:

3x Vibroscalpel
1x Laser Cautery
5x High-dose Bacta Patches
Bandages
Bacta Flask and Injector
Handheld Medscanner
Antiradiation and Adrenaline Capsules

Trooper CT-7331 (Ibzan)

Clone Number: CT-7331

Army Rank/Role: Heavy Weapons Crewman (EWHB-12 Heavy Repeating Blaster)

Nickname: None

Personality/Bio: Like any other clones within the Grand Army of the Republic, CT-7331 looks like an exact replica of his genetic template, Jango Fett. Raised on a strict training and nutritional regime from the very first day he stepped out of the birthing vat, 7331 is almost physically indistinguishable from his brothers. Mentally, he would likely be nearly indistinguishable as well were it not for one crucial aspect.

During the later stages of training, 7331 began to stand out from his fellow clones. While he functioned well enough as a clone, mentally speaking, it was found out that he was just not quite up to par to the standards set for him by both the Cuy’val Dar and the Kaminoans themselves when it came to his performance in combat exercises. In any other circumstance this would simply be the end of him and he’d have been terminated and examined by the Kaminoans for anomaly as to avoid a similar case in future clone batches. After all, he was not an Alpha-Class or a Commando — only a clone trooper among a million others to come; there was simply no need to expend any extra effort that could be placed elsewhere.

Fortunately for him, what he lacked in practical soldiering skills he more than made up for with his affinity for electronics and engineering. Basic understanding of the two fields was par the course of clone flash training, yet 7331 was somehow able to pick up more than what was expected of a regular clone trooper in this regard. When his education evolved from flash training to practical application of the knowledge itself, 7331 displayed a high proficiency in said fields. In addition to this, thanks to the insistence of his batch’s instructor that he was still useful as a trooper, as well as motivation and help from his batchmates to pick up the pace in combat exercises, 7331 was spared from termination by the Kaminoans and simply marked as Requiring Intensive Supervision - RIS for short - for the remainder of his training. A designation he wore proudly, for he knew that it was the one thing that kept him alive and breathing still.

Unsurprisingly, this particular quirk of his eventually translated well into his assigned role as a Heavy Weapons Crewman: 7331 proves capable of always managing to get the EWHB-12 Generator up and running to full capacity in record time, alongside maintaining and repairing both the generator and the heavy turret itself should any complications arise. Additionally, he is somewhat proficient in slicing electronics as well.

In terms of personality, 7331 can be described as a team player who seems to always be more than willing to sacrifice his own well-being for his squadmates — this being his way of paying back the faith and help they’d given him during training. Mentally, like any other clone, he is programmed and trained to not crack under fire nor chafe under command regardless of his rather subpar ability in conventional combat. So long as he lived, his whole being would be dedicated to his brothers and by extension the Republic itself as he is incapable of seeing any other alternatives at this point in his short life.

Weaponry:
- DC-15S Blaster Carbine
- Thermal Detonator
- x2 EMP Grenades
- EWHB-12 (Generator & Tripod)
- Scramble Key & Repair Kit

Trooper CT-7642 (f0un)

Clone Number: CT- 7642

Army Rank/Role: Heavy Weapons Crewman (EWHB-12 Heavy Repeating Blaster)

Nickname: None

Personality/Bio: As a clone of the bounty hunter Jango Fett like his fellow kin, CT- 7642 is essentially physically indiscernible from the rest of his brothers. Although, he definitely enjoys talking more than most of them (maybe a little too much). CT- 7642 seems to have an affinity for quick-witted remarks and for keeping the mood fairly light. He’s always chipping in whenever possible and in turn has been chewed out by his superiors more than once. One could also consider 7642 a bit of a showoff judging off the clone’s eagerness to brag about his feats in various training scenarios or exercises. It’s probably only a matter of time until he brings this same boastful attitude to the real battlefield as well.

While his loud nature may get on the nerves of some of his brothers, his loyalty to the Republic and willingness to lay down his life for them is undeniable. His confidence in his squadron is high as he constantly speaks of Rawl Squadron’s ability and potential to all the others.

As for his role on the actual battlefield, CT- 7642 is on heavy gun duty. This role seems more than fitting for the clone as what better way to reign hell in the name of the Republic than with an EWHB-12?

Weaponry:

- DC-15S Blaster Carbine
- Thermal Detonator
- EWHB-12 (Main Gun)

Trooper CT-1184 "Beatdown" (Deadnaut)

Clone Number: CT-1184

Army Rank/Role: Trooper

Nickname: Beatdown

Personality/Bio: Beatdown is a highly aggressive, highly motivated trooper with a fearless attitude. He's said to keep cool under fire and at home, a cool customer who doesn't let his emotions go wild. He takes great pride in his battalion and their collective strengths as soldiers, and he'll die for that pride if he has to. Beatdown is something of an individualist, believing that the real strength of the GAR lies in the differences between troopers, though he is careful never to mention this anywhere the Kaminoans may hear.

Beatdown is very attached to his brothers, and to some that could be considered his greatest weakness. Instructors have noted Beatdown is at his most reckless when his brothers are in danger, and more than once he narrowly evaded death to help a brother in a training exercise. Between this and his role as a CQC Trooper against mechanical foes, few people expect Beatdown to survive very long. In truth, Beatdown doesn't expect to survive very long either, he just hopes that when he goes, it means one of his brothers lasts a little longer

Weaponry: DC15S Carbine
DC17 Hand Blaster
2x Frag Grenades

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Rules/Guidelines

• No arguing in the OOC. Take any disagreements into private messages.
• Everyone needs to post a minimum of once every two weeks. Disappear for too long without explanation and I reserve the right to kill your characters and fill your units with "replacements" (Other Players)
• In IC profanity will be kept to Star Wars profanity. Damn and hell are acceptable, shit and bitch are not. Star Wars profanity includes blast, karabast, blazes, and many others.
• This is high casual/low advanced. A minimum of four-five well written paragraphs per post is required.
• Don't do anything that will drastically alter the plot without my okay. In other words no going "OMG there's General Grevious coming to kill us. Where did he come from?"
• Other than that have fun. This is going to be a gritty warfare experience. We are going through the entire war guys.

Star Wars: A New Batch - A Clone Squad RP [CLOSED]

I'm all about some clones, and some OG Star Wars Expanded Universe. Definitely interested!

@Bastian

Hallo, excellent, excellent and welcome aboard.