LanternLight

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (MK III)

Loving the set up so far!

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (MK III)

Jingo sat huddled behind her makeshift altar, fiddling at and comforting the servo-skull in her lap as pistol shots cracked through the air and chipped away at her ever decreasing shelter.

“There, there, Matteo, we’ll soon have buzzing around like usual.”

Things were not going according to her projections.

She’d arrived on Footfall months ago, ready, willing and eager to transfer to to the Rogue Trader Julius Montleban; honoured to serve as technical and spiritual advisor to one of those brave entrepreneurs that explored the wild unknown of the galaxy.

Unfortunately, the dock she’d reported to had been empty. The Administratum had suggested that Montleban might have been rescheduled, lost in the Warp, taken by Xenos or may not have ever existed in the first place. They’d promised to have a definite answer for Jingo in the next 18-36 months but had been suspiciously vague on which solar systems months they’d been going by.

Still, Jingo was never one to let a little thing like having her whole life’s plans go awry to get her down!

She’d spent some time in the Shield Shrines and marvelled at how the Omnissiah worked to keep Mankind safe even in such hostile places like the void. Travelling through the Void in a ship was one thing, but only the Machine God would be capable of allowing life to thrive in the crude stone structures of Footfall.

And thrive it did! Jingo had been thrilled at all the wondrous cultures that had grown up isolated among the emptiness. Thrilled and a little disappointed, too. These people lived in an impossible reality, even more so than the world Jingo had grown up on, but they all seemed to take it for granted. Yes, there were the cathedrals to the God-Emperor and, yes, there were the shrines to the Omnissiah, but the slavers and the criminals and the drug addicts and the drug dealers and everyone else seemed more interested in their own petty concerns than spending just a few moments each day in thoughts of praise for the God-Emperor, Holy Terra, the Throne and the Omnissiah.

So Jingo had set to work.

Initial attempts at preaching at high-traffic junctions had yielded an unsatisfactory return.

Efforts to herd together a congregation by her servitors had only succeeded in creating varyingly violent mobs.

Finally, Jingo settled on a method that worked. Little servo-motors that clamped into the base of the skull, with Machine-Spirits instructed to hyper-produce endorphins whenever the user listened to or preached the glories of the Omnissiah. It had been a great success! Jingo had been happy to distribute the device to anyone who asked and her flock had swelled considerably in short order. All of them devoted and desperate to practice their faith. They’d all been so happy and attentive and loved to listen to Jingo!

And now, for some bizarre reason, the Narco-tribes and drug barons were accusing her of invading their territory! Just because she’d chemically altered a few dozen people into feeling ecstatic whenever they express their faith! She was just spreading the good word and now people were attacking her!

Jingo smacked the base of Matteo’s skull a few times, trying to wake up the dormant Machine -Spirits inside the servo-skull to no avail. Her voxcaster let out a screech of Holy Binary, commanding one of the servo-motors on a member of her congregation to stand up. The bony woman managed to let out a gasp of surprise as her traitorous legs lifted her into view before three separate gunshots honed in on her and extinguished her life.

The three shooters did reveal their positions, however, and were promptly taken down by Jingo’s flock in a barrage of gunfire.

Still, from the acoustic and visual reports, it seemed the Narco-tribes had no shortage of troops to send her way. She couldn’t spend all her flock like that and still come out on top. It wasn’t the way she’d like to exit this situation, but Jingo had no choice but to let out another screech of Holy Binary, boosting endorphin and adrenaline levels in all her flock.

She heard the faithful scream in excitement, joy, anger and pain as they rushed the drug gangs of Footfall; and Jingo scurried deeper into her makeshift chapel, ducking into a back passage and hopping onto her servitor, Otto, commanding it to carry her away from the conflict zone.

It was a shame it had turned out like this, but she’d gathered a lot of good data that would help her next attempt at spreading the good word.

Maybe it was time to find somewhere a bit further afield, though.

In a Devil's Court.

I thought it might be a bit too ordered to suit the rage of Lyria, but I'll never not post Hell March when I have a chance to! Good choice on what you decided on, though! Sound more suitable.

Word association Game!

Assassin

LanternLight Characters who are cool but also kinda lame, but in a wholesome way

Livia, The-Star-In-Chains

Name: Livia

Nicknames / Titles / Alias's: [Title] Court Herald, [Mockery]The-Star-In-Chains, Slavelight, Broken-sun

Age: Unknown, 125 in her current incarnation

Gender: Currently female

Height: 5’ 11”

Weight: Varies. Usually maintains a weight/density of 600lbs. Can crack granite with a hard strike of her heel.

Build: Lithe

Appearance: Her body is a constant crackling inferno. The outline of a body can be discerned underneath the constantly burning flames surrounding her, but it’s as constant as a burning log in any fire. You can stare at her for hours and not see any change in her appearance, but look away for a few minutes and look back to find parts of her have smouldered and burned away. Then look away again only to find she has rebuilt her dying embers and flares anew.

Miscellaneous Appearance Notes: The Brokensun constantly tries to maintain an appearance of calm, trying to live a role of decorum and protocol. When truly angered or allowed to unleash her full fury on the orders of her master, the burning light she emits is enough to permanently blind any mortal and many magical entities. It tires her considerably.

Personality: Livia lives by the code of the court. It is all she can cling on to at this point and still feel whole. She is precise. She is exacting. She accepts no excuses. Any supplicant wishing to approach her masters court and present a petition or grievance must observe all protocol or earn Livia’s ire. To the nameless subjects that live in her masters realm, she obliterates. To visiting dignitaries that are politically immune, she records their transgressions for future punishment.

Specialty: Politics. Court Procedure. Public executions.

Dominating Trait/Sin: Fury. Duty. Every slight against her or her master makes her burn with resentment and rage. Duty keeps it all in check until she is allowed to release it as her master wishes. If the fury is left building for too long… explosive behaviour may be inevitable…

Background:

Livia was a Living Star. The Light of the Morning. Her searing light had burned demons into nothingness in the forgotten wars of history. Livia had enjoyed the burning and did not want to stop, even when commanded. She had burned for a purpose and now she burned for herself.

Livia was incandescent. Livia founded one of the great devil cities. Livia was admired and loved and respected by all.

Livia was betrayed.

Livia was a being that reincarnated every few hundred years, always powerful. She’d been female, male and anything in-between, but always powerful. She’d ruled the devil city of Starfall since recorded history. Or, at least, the recorded history that most people were allowed to know.

Livia was powerful. Everyone knew. Livia was respected. Everyone knew. Livia ruled the greatest city of all devil-kind. Livia was vulnerable. Only her closest advisors knew.

When Livia went through one of her semi-millennial reincarnations, when she would burn into an incandescent light that seared into her a new personality but with all the old cruelty, ambition and objectives, she was betrayed. Her flaming rebirth was doused. Her traitor-advisors and false-friends employed great magics to prevent the Living Star from completing her reincarnation.

She was left crippled. Half a star. Left to seek refuge in the court of Morelion. Treated as an honoured guest.

She’d waited the long decades and centuries until her next reincarnation cycle when she could complete it successfully and regain her full might and power and burn out the sight of those that had betrayed her.

But she didn’t regain her power. She was even weaker than before. A shadow of a shadow of her former self. Her former friends-turned-enemies drew closer. Morelion had been happy to host an equal as a guest and offer his protection, but Livia was clearly no longer that. The only protection Morelion would now offer was that of an owner protecting his property. With a smouldering fury, Livia submitted as a slave to Morelion to preserve her existence.

She lives at his mercy, now deathly protective of his honor, if only because any slight to him is magnified on her a thousand-fold.

She will break her chains. She will gain her throne again. She will burn incandescent.

But for now, she serves.

In a Devil's Court.

@Enzayne

Hell March has a pretty great martial beat to it:

In a Devil's Court.

Livia, The-Star-In-Chains

Name: Livia

Nicknames / Titles / Alias's: [Title] Court Herald, [Mockery]The-Star-In-Chains, Slavelight, Broken-sun

Age: Unknown, 125 in her current incarnation

Gender: Currently female

Height: 5’ 11”

Weight: Varies. Usually maintains a weight/density of 600lbs. Can crack granite with a hard strike of her heel.

Build: Lithe

Appearance: Her body is a constant crackling inferno. The outline of a body can be discerned underneath the constantly burning flames surrounding her, but it’s as constant as a burning log in any fire. You can stare at her for hours and not see any change in her appearance, but look away for a few minutes and look back to find parts of her have smouldered and burned away. Then look away again only to find she has rebuilt her dying embers and flares anew.

Miscellaneous Appearance Notes: The Brokensun constantly tries to maintain an appearance of calm, trying to live a role of decorum and protocol. When truly angered or allowed to unleash her full fury on the orders of her master, the burning light she emits is enough to permanently blind any mortal and many magical entities. It tires her considerably.

Personality: Livia lives by the code of the court. It is all she can cling on to at this point and still feel whole. She is precise. She is exacting. She accepts no excuses. Any supplicant wishing to approach her masters court and present a petition or grievance must observe all protocol or earn Livia’s ire. To the nameless subjects that live in her masters realm, she obliterates. To visiting dignitaries that are politically immune, she records their transgressions for future punishment.

Specialty: Politics. Court Procedure. Public executions.

Dominating Trait/Sin: Fury. Duty. Every slight against her or her master makes her burn with resentment and rage. Duty keeps it all in check until she is allowed to release it as her master wishes. If the fury is left building for too long… explosive behaviour may be inevitable…

Background:

Livia was a Living Star. The Light of the Morning. Her searing light had burned demons into nothingness in the forgotten wars of history. Livia had enjoyed the burning and did not want to stop, even when commanded. She had burned for a purpose and now she burned for herself.

Livia was incandescent. Livia founded one of the great devil cities. Livia was admired and loved and respected by all.

Livia was betrayed.

Livia was a being that reincarnated every few hundred years, always powerful. She’d been female, male and anything in-between, but always powerful. She’d ruled the devil city of Starfall since recorded history. Or, at least, the recorded history that most people were allowed to know.

Livia was powerful. Everyone knew. Livia was respected. Everyone knew. Livia ruled the greatest city of all devil-kind. Livia was vulnerable. Only her closest advisors knew.

When Livia went through one of her semi-millennial reincarnations, when she would burn into an incandescent light that seared into her a new personality but with all the old cruelty, ambition and objectives, she was betrayed. Her flaming rebirth was doused. Her traitor-advisors and false-friends employed great magics to prevent the Living Star from completing her reincarnation.

She was left crippled. Half a star. Left to seek refuge in the court of Morelion. Treated as an honoured guest.

She’d waited the long decades and centuries until her next reincarnation cycle when she could complete it successfully and regain her full might and power and burn out the sight of those that had betrayed her.

But she didn’t regain her power. She was even weaker than before. A shadow of a shadow of her former self. Her former friends-turned-enemies drew closer. Morelion had been happy to host an equal as a guest and offer his protection, but Livia was clearly no longer that. The only protection Morelion would now offer was that of an owner protecting his property. With a smouldering fury, Livia submitted as a slave to Morelion to preserve her existence.

She lives at his mercy, now deathly protective of his honor, if only because any slight to him is magnified on her a thousand-fold.

She will break her chains. She will gain her throne again. She will burn incandescent.

But for now, she serves.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (MK III)

Mispost.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (MK III)

Jingo

Name: Jingo

Age: 29

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Appearance:

Jingo is a mixture of flesh and machine, just like any good tech-priest should be. Her face is a blank visage of dark metal, with three large visual lenses in place of her eyes that hum with a steady green glow. A vox unit has been installed where her mouth should be, a triangular vented unit that pulses with a bright yellow light with each syllable she speaks. It could very well be some arcane techno-mask she’s wearing, but knowing the Adeptus Mechanicus it’s most likely replaced face she was born with.

She’s been blessed with a pair of bionic arms, replacing the false flesh she was born with with limbs that bring her spiritually closer to the Omnissiah. Long and lethal, they stretch longer than regular human arms, resting just above her knees when held at her sides. Her hands have seven mechanical fingers each; all long, pointed and extremely dexterous.

She also wields two mechadendrites. One sturdy and rigid, attached somewhere in her shoulder blades and composed of two joints and ending in a surgically sharp scalpel blade. It hangs over her like a scorpion tail awaiting to strike. The other mechandendrite snakes out from beneath her robes, composed of a series of overlapping rings, creating a long and dexterous limb that snakes around like a tentacle with a collection of grasping claws at the end to grasp and manipulate as Jingo sees fit.

A handful of tubes of varying lengths poke out from her torso near where her liver should be, looping round her back and disappearing back under her robes.

Beneath the robes of an ordained member of the Adeptus Mechanicus she wears thick, dark leathers that cover every inch of her, thick enough to provide some semblance of protection from enemies seeking to harm her or a mishap in the lab while exploring the great mysteries of the Machine God.

Personality:

Jingo has an upbeat, cheery demeanour that is at odds with her expressionless façade. She almost always speaks in a happy, sing-song cadence that sounds exceptionally strange when coming out of her mechanized voice box. Her natural curiousness has propelled her to where she is today, catching the attention of the tech-priest overseers on her mining planet who inducted her into the Adeptus Mechanicus.

She’s almost pathologically industrious and has a near constant need to be doing something, anything. Prayers to the Omnissiah, rituals for the machine spirits, repairs to broken tech, exploring new places, re-discovering old places, making friends, making enemies, hard labour, easy labour, anything so long as it isn’t doing nothing.

She has two primary drives. To rediscover the lost tech scattered around the galaxy to the great glory of the Omnissiah. And to share her love of the Machine God and all his wonders with anyone who has the misfortune to be cornered by her and made to listen.

Later examination of her genome during her induction into the Adeptus Mechanicus revealed a natural chemical imbalance in her psyche that left her permanently upbeat and optimistic. She was near physically incapable of not being positive. The bug was solvable, but deemed ‘Known-Shippable’, with a further note that the defect might actually prove useful in an Explorator role.

History:

Jingo was born on Carentes X00349/827, on the high altitude mining framework built around the supermassive gas giant. An unending tangle of walkways, pipes, refineries and slums, the platform was home to millions and was a constantly active monstrosity mining the planet below for hydrogen and other minor gases deemed needful by the Imperium.

Her parents, like many others, weren’t natives of Carentes and had been deposited there after finally failing to outrun the Arbites on whatever hive world they’d grown up on. She wasn’t sure where exactly that was as her father hadn’t liked to talk about his prior life and her mother had died when Jingo was 4 after a poorly maintained walkway had collapsed under her, a not uncommon occurrence (hence the constant inflow of new miners).

Native-born citizens of Carentes X00349/827 that managed to survive childhood tended to have an innate sense of balance and little regard for the massive drop beneath them. Like many natives, Jingo wouldn’t think twice about taking a shortcut from one walkway to another by hopping from one rickety pipe to the next, trusting her natural instincts to know which ones could take her weight when one wrong step could mean her death.

When not working in the refinery, a young Jingo liked to explore and discover the wonders of the world around her. Mapping out the tangled maze she lived in and how each small part of the framework worked with another to keep them productive.

As she learned more about how the world worked, she learned it was only by the grace of the Omnissiah that anyone could live on Carentes X00349/827 at all. His blessings and the machine spirits kept them from plunging into the great clouds and storms below. With no formal training in the rites of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Jingo would simply thank the machine spirits of whatever machines she would interact with as best she could, grateful that they let her live in this wondrous place. Like many native born citizens of Carentes, Jingo couldn’t understand how off-worlders saw the world as some sort of prison, it was a mechanical wonder!

During one of her expeditions she came across a damaged servo-skull. With its anti-grav field generator inactive the skull had been trying to make its way back to its tech-priest on a series of spider-like mechanical legs. The flying servo-skulls zoomed through the framework even more nimbly than the natives, so it was rare to get a chance to see one up close. Jingo’s natural curiosity, and concern the machine might not be able to make it back to its tech-priest, led her into a long chase as she tried to corner it for a closer examination. She’d managed to back it into a nest of wires, her legs and arm wrapped around a pipe she’d scooted out on in her pursuit, her other arm and hand outstretched as she beckoned the servo-skull to come with her, hoping the machine spirit within would trust her.

That was the position she was in when Magi Atia found her. Thankfully the tech-priest was more curious than hostile about Jingo’s pursuit of her wayward servo-skull. After talking with the girl, the Magi found Jingo might have been guided by the Omnissiah in her yearning to know more about the world around her. Atia gave her the opportunity to make more of herself, teaching the girl about the rites of the Adeptus Mechanicus, how to interact with the machine spirits and make them compliant. Jingo took to it with a fervour, soaking up each drop of knowledge she could manage.

Eventually, Jingo proved herself and was transported to the Forge World of Cyclopea to finish her induction into the Cult Mechanicus. She did her best to share her joy in the Omnissiah with the lay workers of the world, but when she finally witnessed the holy work of a Titan getting completed, Jingo underwent a religious ecstasy. Seeing a manifestation of the Omnissiah made physical, Jingo was inspired to go forth to seek lost STC designs lost to the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Skills:

General Tech Head: Jingo has delved into all aspects of the Adeptus Mechanicus. She can jury rig a Basilisk, unclog a Plasma Pistol, maintain a Warp-Drive and can perform emergency biologis procedures in a pinch. She’s not picked a field of study test and can manage most general tech roles if absolutely required, though she may not do a top-tier job.

Great balance: Growing up on a series of rickety metalworks hanging over deadly gas clouds has left Jingo with an amazing sense of balance. The addition of additional mechandedrites has only made her ability to climb any surface even more impressive.

Optimistic attitude: Even in the grim reality of 41st millennium, Jingo’s upbeat attitude is unnaturally infectious. She’s oddly persuasive when she speaks on topics she truly believes in. People find it hard to disappoint her when she’s so earnestly eager about her passions.

Equipment:

-Shotgun (unused)
-Medicaid kit (unused)
-Biologis kit (used)
-Leather armour (heavily used)
-Servo-skull x2
-Common Servitor

Give Me Your Favorite Quote(s).

In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

-Douglas Adams