IzurichColour me intrigued! I'll think about some cool character concepts.
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3 yrs ago
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Back from the dead something something something whatever.
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Warhammer 40K: Beyond the Law - A Mercenary Adventure (Open for business, apply within.)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
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Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Hey, no worries. I can reflect on the nightmarish dystopia of the Imperial penal system all day.
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Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I pushed 'today' to the limits of its definition but there it is!
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Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Gate stood mutely as the beast of a man that was Sergeant Mason addressed them. He didn't take in much of what he was saying. He feared and respected soldiers, as you might fear and respect a dangerous animal. They were violent, simple and so often committed to an ideology of shoot-first-ask-questions-later. But he didn't care much for their wisdom or speeches. What use was their wisdom to him? They were committed to a life of service and battle. Anyone who had thought that to be a good life choice clearly didn't have good sense in the first place.
Armed and ready in two hours though. That he did hear. Probably a formal assembly and briefing prior to departing Redemption. He returned to his bunk and made sure his things were in good order. He picked up the lascarbine and familiarised himself with it as best he could. It was lighter than an autogun. It was essentially an autogun with less moving parts and more certainty of killing whoever you pointed it at. What was there to know? It was designed to be easy enough for a child to use. He put it to one side and kicked his feet up on his bunk. He pulled out his Uplifting Primer to kill some time. It was going to be dull, but at least he could look forward to a few weeks of rest and relaxation for sure.
Those bastards. Those filthy, mad, scav-whore bastards. It was moments like this that reminded him how, at his core, he bitterly hated everything about the Imperium. He was happy on Taranis. He was invisible, and free, and was good at his job. It was the Imperium that had ruined it. They had imprisoned him. Then they had given him death gift-wrapped as freedom. And now they had forgone the gift-wrapping altogether. They had laid bare the cruel truth of their sick, dishonest endeavour. What was the point? Why didn't they just shoot him the moment he left the womb?
A nauseating rush of adrenaline made his despairing mind go blank. Hot, nervous fire rushed through his limbs and into his heart. He was rendered an animal, only seeing and acting, driven by his basest instincts. Gate was no stranger to fighting. He had killed men in his time in the Enforcer cadres and seen his fair share of shootouts. But he had been in control then; a well armed lawman with other well armed lawmen watching his back, against scared and desperate hive scum. This was different; here he was the scum, a trapped rat with no friends and vastly outgunned.
The soldier Tigranes that he had spoken with earlier was telling the squad to move. His dislike of the man was drowned out. In that moment, the man was the pack leader, and you followed the pack leader. The roaring chaos of the room was nothing. Gate's world was keeping his head down, and staying close behind Tigranes.
When they reached the building, Tigranes stopped suddenly, and Gate threw himself to the side to avoid hitting him. He rolled and laid prone, and his senses returned to him. He still had hold of his lascarbine. At some point he had been splattered with blood. Not his own. He looked up at the bloodied sight of Octavia crouching next to Tigranes. The air was very hot, and the sound of las-crack was deafening, which mercifully took the edge off the sound of screaming. He crawled over to where Tigranes and Octavia were taking cover and pressed himself up against the wall, his breath heaving.
Armed and ready in two hours though. That he did hear. Probably a formal assembly and briefing prior to departing Redemption. He returned to his bunk and made sure his things were in good order. He picked up the lascarbine and familiarised himself with it as best he could. It was lighter than an autogun. It was essentially an autogun with less moving parts and more certainty of killing whoever you pointed it at. What was there to know? It was designed to be easy enough for a child to use. He put it to one side and kicked his feet up on his bunk. He pulled out his Uplifting Primer to kill some time. It was going to be dull, but at least he could look forward to a few weeks of rest and relaxation for sure.
Those bastards. Those filthy, mad, scav-whore bastards. It was moments like this that reminded him how, at his core, he bitterly hated everything about the Imperium. He was happy on Taranis. He was invisible, and free, and was good at his job. It was the Imperium that had ruined it. They had imprisoned him. Then they had given him death gift-wrapped as freedom. And now they had forgone the gift-wrapping altogether. They had laid bare the cruel truth of their sick, dishonest endeavour. What was the point? Why didn't they just shoot him the moment he left the womb?
A nauseating rush of adrenaline made his despairing mind go blank. Hot, nervous fire rushed through his limbs and into his heart. He was rendered an animal, only seeing and acting, driven by his basest instincts. Gate was no stranger to fighting. He had killed men in his time in the Enforcer cadres and seen his fair share of shootouts. But he had been in control then; a well armed lawman with other well armed lawmen watching his back, against scared and desperate hive scum. This was different; here he was the scum, a trapped rat with no friends and vastly outgunned.
The soldier Tigranes that he had spoken with earlier was telling the squad to move. His dislike of the man was drowned out. In that moment, the man was the pack leader, and you followed the pack leader. The roaring chaos of the room was nothing. Gate's world was keeping his head down, and staying close behind Tigranes.
When they reached the building, Tigranes stopped suddenly, and Gate threw himself to the side to avoid hitting him. He rolled and laid prone, and his senses returned to him. He still had hold of his lascarbine. At some point he had been splattered with blood. Not his own. He looked up at the bloodied sight of Octavia crouching next to Tigranes. The air was very hot, and the sound of las-crack was deafening, which mercifully took the edge off the sound of screaming. He crawled over to where Tigranes and Octavia were taking cover and pressed himself up against the wall, his breath heaving.
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Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Sorry about the delay in posting - my dissertation is due next Monday so I'm a bit distracted. I'll post in the next day or so!
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Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
<Snip>
Gate held Tigranes' glare for a moment, before diverting his eyes irritably and listening as he spoke. He was expecting to put down some posturing criminal and score some easy respect. He wasn't expecting to come up against an actual, honest-to-the-Emperor soldier. Glancing at Octavia, and at various other gatherings forming around their section of the hanger, he began to fathom that - even if he survived long enough - it might be more difficult than he'd thought to rise to power here. Where he had felt empowered by his ability to understand the Arbites officials, convicts like Tigranes evidently also felt like their previous military occupation gave them new power and opportunity. How many others were there like him?
He became aware that Tigranes had finished speaking. His last words sounded too much like a threat, and so Gate decided to cut his losses. He lets out a short chuckle of mirthless laughter.
"It was only a jest between soldiers, friend!" Gate said, with an edge of sarcasm. "As you say - we've been given quite the window of opportunity by the Emperor, haven't we? We've no reason to fight, especially if we'll be in such close quarters. My name is Gate."
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Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Gate listened to Shiah, Octavia and Tigranes converse (or gesticulate, as in the case of Octavia) and felt a sense of bitter cynicism rise in his gut.
Look at them - posturing as if they were the Emperor's finest... knowing what end of the stick the laser comes out of doesn't make you better than the rest of us.
He sat quietly and brooded for a few moments, before standing up and walking over as Tigranes finished speaking. His initial thoughts of friendly ice-breaking had somewhat diminished.
"That's very thoughtful of you, friend", he says, approaching from behind Tigranes, "I bet you'd love to take care of all our gear. I hadn't realised that taking that shuttle trip suddenly made you less of a criminal."
Gate's faux-charming friendly demeanour drops.
"Stay away from my stuff. Here's some better advice for the lot of you - firing that gun should be the least of your priorities. You should be thinking more about how you'll avoid needing to fire it, so you'll survive longer than five seconds when they throw you into the meat grinder."
He glances over his shoulder, suddenly concerned that an official may be listening.
Look at them - posturing as if they were the Emperor's finest... knowing what end of the stick the laser comes out of doesn't make you better than the rest of us.
He sat quietly and brooded for a few moments, before standing up and walking over as Tigranes finished speaking. His initial thoughts of friendly ice-breaking had somewhat diminished.
"That's very thoughtful of you, friend", he says, approaching from behind Tigranes, "I bet you'd love to take care of all our gear. I hadn't realised that taking that shuttle trip suddenly made you less of a criminal."
Gate's faux-charming friendly demeanour drops.
"Stay away from my stuff. Here's some better advice for the lot of you - firing that gun should be the least of your priorities. You should be thinking more about how you'll avoid needing to fire it, so you'll survive longer than five seconds when they throw you into the meat grinder."
He glances over his shoulder, suddenly concerned that an official may be listening.
In
Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Gate sat in the turbulent interior of the shuttle as it climbed through the thin atmosphere of Redemption. It was dark and cramped and the dry air was made thick with fear and excitement.
Gate hadn't flown much in his life. This was the second time, in fact; the last being his departure from his homeworld to the chartered penal transporter.
Both that time and this, he had been aware of some part of his mind that was afraid of flying. Both times, however, it was eclipsed by more pressing emotions. When he was first convicted, these had been emotions of fear, shame, failure. Now, they were emotions of confusion and sickening anticipation. He thought he would feel overjoyed to finally be free of Redemption, now so far away from him and unable to cage him any longer. But what he felt most was a rising sense of existential terror. He had not escaped imprisonment for free - rather, he was being freed only on the basis of his almost certain death in the very real future. He was, most likely, going to die. This was a death sentence wrapped up in the premise of a pardon.
What if all they wanted to do was clear space for new occupants? What if all they wanted to do was get rid of those that still entertained a notion of escape?
He cursed it bitterly. It was unfair. Things like this shouldn't happen to people like him. He was talent, and he was being thrown away by the careless and unseeing hand of the Imperium.
Docking came. Gate pounded through the deep, ancient hallways of the transport amongst the herd, thousands of stamping feet on old iron creating a terrible noise like a heathen ritual drum.
He was glad when they came at last to the vast hangar, and to finally have some time to escape the crowd. To find a bed of his own. A simple animal comfort to distract him from his dire thoughts.
He laid out a bunk, snatched the key to a locker, and sat for a moment. By chance, he realised his bunk was laid out amongst some faces he recognised from earlier, in the conscription hall.
He thought of offering them something to break the ice, but realised he had never been allowed to clean his cell. His lho sticks, stashed contraband, prison currency - all of it - was gone. It was like starting a new life all over again.
He drummed on his thighs awkwardly in the dingy darkness.
Gate hadn't flown much in his life. This was the second time, in fact; the last being his departure from his homeworld to the chartered penal transporter.
Both that time and this, he had been aware of some part of his mind that was afraid of flying. Both times, however, it was eclipsed by more pressing emotions. When he was first convicted, these had been emotions of fear, shame, failure. Now, they were emotions of confusion and sickening anticipation. He thought he would feel overjoyed to finally be free of Redemption, now so far away from him and unable to cage him any longer. But what he felt most was a rising sense of existential terror. He had not escaped imprisonment for free - rather, he was being freed only on the basis of his almost certain death in the very real future. He was, most likely, going to die. This was a death sentence wrapped up in the premise of a pardon.
What if all they wanted to do was clear space for new occupants? What if all they wanted to do was get rid of those that still entertained a notion of escape?
He cursed it bitterly. It was unfair. Things like this shouldn't happen to people like him. He was talent, and he was being thrown away by the careless and unseeing hand of the Imperium.
Docking came. Gate pounded through the deep, ancient hallways of the transport amongst the herd, thousands of stamping feet on old iron creating a terrible noise like a heathen ritual drum.
He was glad when they came at last to the vast hangar, and to finally have some time to escape the crowd. To find a bed of his own. A simple animal comfort to distract him from his dire thoughts.
He laid out a bunk, snatched the key to a locker, and sat for a moment. By chance, he realised his bunk was laid out amongst some faces he recognised from earlier, in the conscription hall.
He thought of offering them something to break the ice, but realised he had never been allowed to clean his cell. His lho sticks, stashed contraband, prison currency - all of it - was gone. It was like starting a new life all over again.
He drummed on his thighs awkwardly in the dingy darkness.
In
Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)
→
7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Many apologies Jb, been travelling. My post is inbound in the next day or so.
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