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

In the Temple-cavern of Anash'Ra...

@Dusty@BCTheEntity@Andreyich

"You have your orders, you know what to do," voxed Kallikles as the squad emerged into the blasphemous cavern of Slaaneshi debauchery, his targetting reticules flashing near-constantly inside his helmet, "Bieito, hold them here!"

The most well-rounded of the Grey Knights turned away from his battle-brothers, force-halberd held in one hand and his left gauntlet aimed back into the bunker from whence they had just came, moving parts of himself from time-to-time to assess the damage done to his power armour duuring their advance.

"Olympio... Salazar... with me brothers!"

Kallikles opened his vox width wider and wider, eventually intermingling with a previously uncontacted source (@ODAberration), "this is Justicar Kallikles, tread the path, I repeat tread the path!"

Gesturing toward an exit through which the more weak-willed of the enemy forces now surged in their need to escape, Kallikles nodded to Basilious, "take yourself forward and help our reinforcements to stem the rats as they flee, we cannot allow their heresy to spread or survive."

Even as he gave the orders the cavern was coming more alive, and becoming more violent, than it had been even during the religious ecstasies of Slaaneshi worship, the two beastial guardians of the altar directing their demented hordes toward the gleaming beacons of the God-emperors justice.

They had their orders, now they simply needed to carry out the execution.

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

@Dusty@BCTheEntity@Andreyich

The objective toward which the Grey Knights now propelled themselves was none other than the entrance into the subterranean labyrinth of tunnels, dug over thousands of years in anticipation of this very moment, that all lead to the sacred chamber of the Cult of Anash'Ra – a vile and demented subordinate of the Prince of Pleasure, said to have enticed and corrupted more religious figures, aristocrats and foolish Aeldari than any other of her servants save the Masque – a chamber in which the summoning ritual was close to reaching a zenith.

Covering the entryway (which itself was no more than an opening in the basement) was a solid bunker-like structure of rockcrete, barbed wire wrapped about it, and various slits beginning to brighten as heavy weapons fire sought out the servants of the God-Emperor; within was a garrison of purple-clad cultists, of a higher quality than the peasant rabble fought thus far, armed with Imperial constructed las-guns and armoured in carapace, expertly trained humans... but still humans nonetheless.

Sand was swept into the air around the rapidly moving formation, bullets whipping about them as they moved, armour of unadorned ceramite causing gleams and glints in the hot noon sun of Anairu, Justicar Kallikles forming his squad into a living arrowhead of gene-enhanced fury with himself as the tip of the projectile.

“I am the hammer...” began the Justicar, reciting the sacred words of the six-hundred-and-sixty-sixth Chapter of Astartes – widely unknown outside of the most clandestine of organisations, unheralded as heroes and lorded as such by none, their own dead forgotten by all save their own brethren - “I am the right hand of the Emperor,” his voice lifted as those of his brother joined him, Kallikles lifting his left arm and sending blessed bolter rounds into the unholy mass of human and half-formed neverborn that opposed them over the sand, “the instrument of His will...” those of mere flesh were blown apart with ease, their remains ground underfoot by the Knights or by their comrades, those of more unnatural flesh screeched as their bodies burned, “... the gauntlet about His fist …” a fanged face without a nose reared up before the Justicar, only to be cut in twain in an instant, “the tip of His spear, the edge of His sword!”

A mass of devoted followers and summoned minor daemons crowded round the Grey Knights as they came, unable to stop the arrow now that it has been loosed, perhaps slowing them somewhat – buying more time for their master to be risen, no doubt – but not fully able to halt their momentum.

“Basilious,” voxed the Justicar as his legs continued to grind forward, “you will find an exit for us once inside, put your incinerator to good use, while Bieito will hold the entrance tunnel. Brothers Olympio and Salazar will come with me, together we shall cease the summoning itself.”

Picking out multiple targets within his helmets HUD, the Justicar shared them with his squad, targeting reticles closing over the weak points of the enemy fortification.

“We must break through and descend into the tunnels, from there we can force our way to their 'temple', and bring this to an end.”

---

In the Temple-cavern of Anash'Ra...

Magister Mordegan Arakane could sense that time was running out, his body shivering and shuddering as he spoke the ten-thousand material names of his Lord, sweat making his hook-beaked mask slick with perspiration and his lips moist with his own lather, eyes of shifting colours half closed as he attempted to blot out all distractions and concentrate on the matter at hand... but how could he?!

The Corpse-Emperor had sent his servants, and now a millennia of work was going to be wasted because of it... because of them... he would not, could not die here. He must survive to bring his master back into real space, something he could not accomplish if he were stripped of life.

Yes... yes... he knew now what he had to do.

He waited until he could hear the approaching enemy, until he could hear the roar of their bolters and the radiance of their armour, until he could visibly see them from the other side of the cavern acting as his stronghold, then he leapt from the far side of the granite plateau!

Before his body could his the floor it burst into spectral flame, his form disappearing even as the two Beastmen stood dumbfounded and turned to the Magisters assistant – this man was equally flabbergasted as they, attempting to take up his masters ritual chanting even as the Grey Knights bore down on them.

WH40k: Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap! - A Necromunda Bounty Hunter Narrative [Currently Open]

I intend to get this rolling by Friday, so if anyone else is interested, do get in touch. Grazie mille.

WH40k: Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap! - A Necromunda Bounty Hunter Narrative [Currently Open]

@NuttsnBolts Many thanks, Nutts.

WH40k: Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap! - A Necromunda Bounty Hunter Narrative [Currently Open]

@Jaredthefox92 Couple of things; can you put your CS in a hider? It's neater that way. Secondly, please delete your sheet from the character tab. Lastly, could you please join the RP Discord thread.

Many thanks.

WH40k: Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap! - A Necromunda Bounty Hunter Narrative [Currently Open]

Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap!



A Necromundan Bounty Hunter RP

This RP is now accepting new characters

Discord Link: discord.gg/2tVCUeNhT8

In Character Info:

There was a point where I honestly believed that work might dry up around here, but did it feth, nah, I was a fool to think it – there's always work in the underhive – but, while I was happy as a Greenskin in his own filth, I might not have taken the contract if I knew what it would mean.

Seemed like your everyday contract: go to a certain place and get your instructions from the employer, follow their directions all proper like, carry out the job and the God-Emperor's your uncle and the Lord-Protectors yer aunt! But nah, I should have realised something was rotten when I was told I'd need to work in a group, a group! Me! I hadn't worked with others for nearly a decade, and that had been one Warp of a job.

So too, it turned out, would this one be.

Was just another scummy day in the cesspit of the underhive, and I found me self on my merry way to an 'office' of the Mercator Pallidus – or to us uneducated swine, the spine chilling Corpse Guild – prepared to take on an apparently well-paying contract (that I'd need to split with others) not knowing that ultimately I'd regret it.

Out of character info:

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

This time around we're heading to the depths of the underhive and the warring factions of Necromunda where, amid the smelted iron and the ever present danger of death around every corner, there are those that hire themselves out for coin, resources, and reputation... and you just so happen to be one of these Bounty Hunters yourself.

Something probably interested you about the contract, as sparse as it is on details, a bounty contract put forth by none other than the Corpse Guild itself. Why? Well, from what you can gather from the contract, someone or 'some ones' have been cutting into their business, bodies disappearing without ever being found, save for blood spatters and incoherent scrawling written in blood nearby.

As a hired killer there is likely one thing that attracted you above all others, and that is the reward that comes with completion of the contract. What with being direct from a Guild, and requiring more than one blade or gun-for-hire, the rewards are considerable.

In the dank belly of Hive Primus is where you must go, to contact a shady Guilder known only as 'Mortis', apparently awaiting eager hunters at his 'offices' in an infamous bar called The Inside Joke.

So there we are.

I'm looking for in all probability six writers as a maximum, to form a Venator Gang of Bounty Hunters for this here roleplay; I'd also like to enforce a rule that characters are drawn from the primary six Clan Houses, so as to avoid many complications and keep it grounded in the 'Mundaverse – should you wish to take on the role of something other than, then we can discuss it, but outside of an Ogryn (or other Abhuman) or the like that can be found on Necromunda, it'll probably be a no-no.

If you've any questions then please feel free to ask, until then come one come all and let the hunt begin.

P.S.

The contract will be explained in greater detail in the first post.

Character Sheet

Please submit your character sheets by posting them in the OOC thread before posting them to the Character tab.

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

Clan House: From which House do they hail?

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.

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? Please include any specialist/specialised skills as well.

History: A sketch of your character's life and history, preferably until they were made aware of the contract. 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 Goliath.

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

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

@jbeil@BCTheEntity

Several hours must have passed since their entry into the palace, thought Victorine to herself, pacing down yet another corridor and watching with satisfaction as another las-round burrowed through the mask and into the skull of yet another orange-clad heretic.

Much like the hours, they must surely have dispatched every heretic within the confines of the palace walls! How could they not have? She had already dried two-to-three ammo packs, leaving them hissing on the floor as she moved with her comrades-in-arms, toward an area that all woman jack of them would know when they got there.

"And here we are..." muttered the Celestian, pausing briefly and moving into a half-crouch, turning to look at her Sisters with a half-grimace half-smile of fanatacism, "something waits for us within, though I cannot know what as the God-Emperor does, but I can... feel... something... beyond those doors, where we have all stepped before." Her eyes turned to look at the doors ahead, large enough for a dreadnought to pass through without hinderance, and her expression became dark with woe, "prepare your weapons, Sisters and, if it is required, give your lives for the God-Emperor and our Imperium."

Checking one last time that her bolt pistol was loaded, and that the spirit of her powersword was prepared to take further life, Victorine gave a hand signal to proceed up the corridor and straight at the doors.

************

The audience hall could not have been any more different than it had been the first time they saw it; while previously it had been filled to the rafters with officials, retinues, and the sound of soaring music, the hall now contained no sound but that of the door swinging open to reveal a sight that made the Celestian's hands tighten into fists and her blood run hot through her veins.

There stood before the spreading trio, near enough at the other end of the darkened and empty hall, was the grille-mouthed Emissary - he stood as still as the shadows all around him, and just as uncaring at their prescence it seemed, two robotically strengthened hands clasped on either side of a kneeling figure... none other than Governor De'mange himself! The poor man had obviously been drugged or poisoned, still dressed in his nightwear, his lolling head only kept upright by the trecherous parasite gripping it.

"Welcome Sisters," intoned the puppet-master in a voice as emotionless as the circuits that ran through his nervous system, his hooded head leaving only his ashen face and glinting grille visible in the moonlight, "I am truly sorry that this has to happen, I did not want it to you see. No, believe me, I tell the truth, Emperor as my witness."

With a slight twist of his hands, and a loud crunch of bone, the neck of Diokletian was broken without so much as a thought, and the formerly virile and strong Governor dropped to the floor as no more than a sack of meat.

"Humans, so very fragile. He was a cruel master though, you can rest assured he did not deserve all that the Emperor and his Imperium had given him."

It was then that the Emissary brushed his hands together in an oddly human gesture, as if brushing dirt from his hands, other arms moving beneath the folds of his robes - holding concealed weapons no doubt.

"Speaking of masters, I believe you have mine incarcerated aboard your ship." It was not a question but a statement, also a delivering of terms, "release him, please. I will ask only once. Do so, and not only may you all keep your lives, but the life of your sainted girl will not be forfeit in place of my masters."

Victorine looked to each of her Battle Sisters in turn, her hand moving ever-so-slowly toward the hilt of her bolt pistol, hoping that they too would take the hint.

The time for talking had been over the moment that they entered the hall... now was the time for death and retribution.

************

@Andreyich

"Horacio Mazzini," spoke a far-away voice, a voice made up of a multitude of voices in fact, moving through the Confessors mind as if whatever was speaking to him had him surrounded internally, "you will not... can not... die here, the God-Emperor has not had his fill of you yet, Confessor."

Something began to form within his mind, first nothing more than an outline of blinding white light, before the figure of a young woman stepped into his thoughts and conciousness, her face serene and calm as she gazed into him dressed in no more than a light shift.

"Even now your charges fight for their lives, seeking to save me and to redeem this planet from damnation. They cannot do it alone, Horacio. Not without the spiritual strength you supply to them.

She knelt down beside him then, striking his bleeding head calmly, a warmth spreading into him though he could have been awake or asleep at this point - it mattered not.

"Go to them Horacio, help them push back the darkness! Rise and fight, the Emperor commands it!

A crack and flash of light and she was gone, leaving only Horacio and the corpses of those he had killed some time earlier, the wound on his head naught now but a puckered scar.

WH40K: An End to the Alien - A Deathwatch Narrative Roleplay

@BCTheEntity@Lauder@Lady Selune@Hank@Eldritch Puppy@Kood

Several months later...

The barren surface of the stripped planet was, as with everything else above and below, a perfect training ground - the squad of warriors, now under the overall command of Drill Sergeant Hallr, having come together one night in the refectorum with little time to get to know one another since; the Forgepriest and apothecary especially had had their own training to complete, getting to know the technology and biology of the Watches multiple enemies was something of paramount importance - now they stood once more as a fledgling kill-team with naught but a respirator, gravity stabilised boots, and a weighted create that the Sergeant had bought with him.

"Welcome to the surface of Jorval, recruits," he spoke in a blank monotone, sweeping an arm over the grey and craggy landscape, a very grim reminder of just what a Tyranid hive fleet was capable of, "hopefully you shall get to know one another a little better after this exercise"

Taking a knee next to the crate, he opened it to reveal a number of well-used training weapons - bolters modified to shoot non-lethal rounds, and combat knives with dulled blades, though all would work just like the real thing against simulated enemies - and handed a pair to each of the Astartes standing nearby.

"Over that horizon," he announced with a finger pointing approximately north-east of their current position, "is an outpost, an entrance to a larger subterranean complex we believe. Your objective is to enter the complex, locate and retrieve the cache of Imperial weapons taken by the foe, as well as bringing back a hostile for further study. As to the nature of the foe, we believe a cult of Tyranid nature to be in operation there. Questions?"

The directions were straightforward, though other details were left deliberately vague, so should any of the present Marines require clarification now was the time to ask.