jbeil

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

Is there any chance of a wee update on how the next part of the adventure is brewing, @Jbcool?

How *I* See Communism: A Discussion of Spamtastic Proportions

Fuck off, comrade commissar.

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

@Jbcool Ready to go whenever you are

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

"SISTER LISBETH!" Somewhere off to her left, a bass voice growled, and the towering Sister Alexa approached, with a scowl laid over the features of her helmet by Lisbeth's imagination. As she fell into her long, spindly shadow, she felt as though she was a neonate within the Scholae Progenium again, being scolded by her lexicography master for chattering. "We're arresting them, not executing them!" When she turned, her first instinct was to shout, to defend herself and to explain that the only good heretic was a dead heretic - and these people were guilty by association. It did not take long for her features to soften; even if Alexa hadn't been a terrifying figure to behold, Lisbeth was not an argumentative soul by nature. More than anything else, she was embarrassed. She had lost her temper, and perhaps valuable information now lay irretrievable. "I didn't - I'm sorry, they...damn it."

Rubbing her eyes with the back of her gauntlet wasn't helping - the flash from the suicide devices was still burnt as a multicoloured spot in the centre of her vision, and Lisbeth's eyes were still watering from the smoke and the smell of burnt, fatty tissue. "They killed our sisters." She turned away, swallowing hard. "They killed Persephone." It was selfish and stupid to be so upset, so bothered by Persephone when there were others who lay dead or injured, but she was at times selfish and stupid. "They killed her," she repeated, finding herself furious with how utterly dumb she sounded.

...was she crying? No... well, yes, but Alexa was fairly sure it wasn't for reasons of sentimentality. And if it were, she was sure the Inquisitor would have something to say about it. More likely, the flash of light and heat, along with the smoke of burning bodies, had gotten to them, a more reasonable cause of tears than anything else, given who they were.

'I know, Lisbeth,' Alexa said in a soothing... but again, the helmet kept warping her tone to a much harsher drone, so she was now obliged to keep going so as to make sure she wasn't misunderstood. 'The loss of any human, be it into the Emperor's hand or to the ravages of Chaos, is a saddening time, for it means one less supporter in the Imperium's ranks. And this role is what we are trained for, after all. Rest assured,' she continued, still not convinced she'd made her sympathies clear, 'Sister Persephone sits now by the side of the God-Emperor, freed from mortal burdens.' Speaking of which, it occurred to her that perhaps the Confessor ought to be giving this speech, but she couldn't in good conscience allow a fellow Battle-Sister to be conflicted so.

"I...I know, sister. I know," sighed Lisbeth, exhausted. After all the anger and the adrenaline had left her, all she was left with was the sapping tingle of tired limbs and the swampy bog at the bottom of her guts that slowly stirred like a witch's poison brew. This lapse of faith - and the rest of today's failures - would have to be repented for, and they would be, but for now there were orders to be followed, plans to be made - bodies to be laid to rest. Trying now to blink the persistent dots away, she examined Permanence, calming herself by following the Rites of Maintenance before she craned her neck to look up at Alexa. "Sister, I want you to make me a promise. If I fall before this business is finished, you must save the faithful souls on this world. You must find the one who is responsible for all of this, and they must suffer before they burn."

'Well, of course, Sister,' Alexa responded immediately. 'There isn't an alternative to break to anyway. Naturally, they who have corrupted even the smallest number of humans is irredeemable, and must be put down no matter what sacrifices must be made.' That was a given, was it not? Such a grievous error in faith could only be resolved by torment of the highest order, until the sinner had either repented or died, followed by a burning whether or not they still lived, destroying their body to try and save their soul, and even then the final decision was ultimately His. And if they remained unrepentant even then... well, there would always be those who pledged themselves to ushering in their own damnation, no matter the efforts of others.

"Thank you, sister," Lisbeth started, leaving her mouth hanging open like a stunned fish while she searched for something to finish the sentence with. Eventually, she settled for "Thank you," patting her sister-in-arms on the elbow - she would have laid a hand on her shoulder, but even two of Lisbeth would have struggled to reach that high. Not quite half a smile returned and an overwhelming sense of serenity crashed into the tiny warrior's mind; it still hurt, and she was still in equal measure despondent and furious, but the presence and the words of the faithful could soothe any spirit. She would accept the fate she was appointed, and do His will. "Come on. Milord Inquisitor will have puzzled out the next move, I'm sure." With that, she lifted her bolter onto her shoulder, raised her head, and steadied herself for whatever was to come, jogging over to accept orders with a light shining once again in her red-rimmed eyes.

Those flashes had really hurt.

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

@BCTheEntity@jbeil



(Means go ahead with a collab, if you'd like.)

@Jbcool

I'm bloody glad you added context because that image on it's own gave me the willies.

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

I might try and get in a short post if Jbcool doesn't have something ready.

@Jbcool do you want to go ahead? If so I'll see if @BCTheEntity and I can't write something together, since it'd be a bit less stilted than very slowly having a conversation one line at a time buried within big posts.

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

The warning came a fraction of a second too late for Lisbeth; beside her, the head of a guardsman turned to burning pitch, and the flash sent her tumbling to the floor, where she fumbled in the over-bright afterimage for her bolter. When she rose, her eyes were steadily rolling with tears, and keeping them open was a struggle; it was as though someone had poured promethium around her eyes and burnt it all in a single spark. Another failure. The next order came in plenty of time; Sister Dominicia was very ready to 'arrest' the traitor guard. "Surrender!" she screamed, and a fraction of a second later she was on two of the surviving guard. They had scarcely had time to hear, let alone comply, before a gauntleted fist drove into the tall one's gut. He bent double as he fell, and a short burst of bolt-fire tore the shorter man's chest into bloody chunks and shards of broken rib.

Letting go of her bolter, so that it hung around her shoulder from the strap, Lisbeth went down on to one knee, wrapping a ceramite fist around the neck of the dumbstruck guardsman, before swinging two swift punches into the bridge of his nose, the second one landing with a satisfying crunch as bone snapped beneath her blow. It was no good asking him to surrender now; he was in no state to answer for his crimes. Frustrated, the sister stood up again, wiping her hair back from her sweat and blood-coated brow. "Heretic!" she howled, swinging her boot at his head; another satisfying crunch, and this time a pinkish ooze began creeping in uneven lumps from the caved-in side of his skull. Good. A dead heretic is a good heretic. Grabbing her bolter, she levelled it at the crowd of guardsmen, and spoke as if possessed by the devil's own fury. "Who is next? Surrender or die, scum!" Coated in ash, dirt and body fluids, Lisbeth was not in a generous mood, and the guard's sense of self-preservation overrode any lingering loyalty to whichever dark force they had sold their souls to, and they threw their rifles to the floor. One, a corporal, stepped forward, her hands extended, her mouth open to say something or other.

It was pointless - Lisbeth was not in the mood to listen to the deranged ramblings of heretics. She swept a leg out, taking the woman off her feet, and swung the butt of her bolter down, throwing all of her weight into the middle of her thigh. A loud, wet crunch and a pained scream rang through the dock as the corporal held her leg, now bent at a sickening angle halfway down her thigh, her femur snapped clean in two by the power-armour-assisted blow. "Get on the transport and take her with you," spat Lisbeth, her voice dripping with disdain. She had nothing but abject hate for these people, for this planet, for what they had done. If it were her decision, the whole world would have been consumed with flame. Perhaps it is best that it is my decision, then, child, spoke the voice in her head, and her anger momentarily gave way to humility. "Lord Inquisitor," she shouted, her bolter still levelled at the retreating guard, four of them carting their corporal along by her limbs, "Your orders?"

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

Bloody hell, I know I said 'newer, brighter lights' but that's a bit much!

I'll see if I can post this evening.

vampiric urban underground crime/drama/supernatural

In with bells on!

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

Lisbeth was not usually a woman predisposed to cruelty; causing excessive pain without killing was a waste of precious armament and time, and generally there was always something else more urgent to deal with - typically, staying alive. This time, however, she felt differently. It was not anger; she knew anger. Anger burned and boiled inside and gave an animating spirit to a person's movement; this was something else. It was a grey-green slime that sat in Lisbeth's heart and sucked everything towards itself. The weight of the boltgun in her hands did not demand to be raised, and her hands did not curl into fists. Looking at the traitor struggle and hearing his language, Sister Dominicia found herself puzzled. There was something amiss, and that made her uncomfortable. Blessed is the mind too small for doubt, child, she reminded herself, and closed her eyes, drawing her focus inwards onto the voice of the Emperor. For a few moments, she was at peace.

It did not last. Her focus was shattered by the screams as Alexandra's blade sliced through the second finger on the traitor's hand. Any lingering twinge of mercy or pity was swept away by the realisation that this man could have been the one who fired the shot that killed Persephone, or any of her Sisters. That sucking sensation returned, and she could not even muster the energy for a scowl, staring at the supine guardsman with an almost disinterested look across her face. Newer, brighter lights. This spark would soon be forgotten - and it was not worth remembering. As will yours. As will all ours.

Why would He say that, of all things? That piece of scripture was one of the first learned within the cloistered walls of the Scholae Progenium, but what was the relevance here? It must have been something she had missed, something obvious...something that would have to wait. The words circled inside her head, as the hospitaller relieved the heretic of his fingernails. 'Newer, brighter lights' were about to occupy everyone's mind in a minute; a shrouded light from somewhere near the prisoner made lisbeth level her gun at the heretic. What she had thought was a las-beam disappeared, and all that remained were two thin, wispy plumes of smoke rising like flowers from the eyesockets of the former prisoner.

"A good heretic," she growled, the bilious swamp in her heart slowly bubbling. "There are plenty more where he came from. My lords, should we begin to move? Heresy grows from idleness, and we all have good reason to..." Her voice trailed off as something caught in her throat. Lisbeth swallowed hard, and reminded herself to make sure she would repent for allowing herself to become so distracted by the consequences of the battle. "There is much to be done," she finished, half-heartedly.

Newer, brighter lights.