Lord Coake

Suicide Squad: A Warhammer 40,000 Xenos RP

@JbcoolStill interested. Gonna still play an Ork tho.

It's A Wonderful Life! - An Imperial Guard (40K) RP [Looking for Guardsmen]

Taking cover alongside the Chimeras, Caius fell in line with the newly-arrived wave of Brontian and Xenoian soldiers. As his lascarbine did not feature a bayonet lug, he had to make due with firing the occasional potshot between the engaged melee soldiers. As he fought on, he noted the various heavy weapons teams taking position on the hulls of the two remaining Chimeras. Continuing his slow advance alongside the others, he once again noted that same plasma gunner taking charge in the fight, cutting swaths through the Ork forces. This is when the Orks would once again bring out the heavy weaponry. A lucky greenskin armed with a makeshift missile launcher fired off a lucky shot, grazing one Chimera, dealing damage but luckily leaving the heavy weapons teams relatively unharmed. Caius would find himself signaled back into the Chimera, which had sustained damage to its steering mechanism in the explosion. He would call out to the soldiers nearby the APC saying "Keep this Chimera covered while I get it moving again!" He rushed to pull out his repair kit, and despite the shaking and rattling, would begin work on the steering controls. He spoke calming words in an attempt to soothe the vehicle's Machine Spirit, offering up a prayer to both the God-Emperor and the Omnissiah. As he raced against the clock with his work, he couldn't help but think of a few words from an old song he had learned from an old veteran in his regiment.

You can stand me up at the gates of hell... But I won't back down

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content]

Sanath Marko

Sanath Marko ingested his fifth dose of Kalma for the day, at 5:30pm, just like every other day. Nobody really knew why he did so, but then again nobody really spoke with him either. Only Sanath knew why he took chems, and he had no interest in sharing. He took them to stop the voices. They would creep into his mind, slowly at first, with barely a whisper between them. Then they would begin to speak. The first to speak was always the most relaxed, but its voice was like that of a plague-infested drunkard. It would drone on and on about how perfect Sanath was, how he should never change, never bathe, never move. As it spoke, Sanath would often find himself drifting off into a slumber, no matter the time of day. He had learned that smoking a lho-stick would please it enough to leave for the day. Then came the next voice. It shouted at him with the cry of a fierce hound, bellowing all the reasons why he should murder his neighbor, his brother, his father. Anyone and everyone he knew was brought up, with each reason more sensible and inviting than the last. Eventually this voice too with die down, in favor of one far more sinister and mysterious. This one contradicted the first, inviting him to change every aspect of himself, from dying his matte-brown hair to a bright shade of orange, and growing it out into a twisted knot, to giving up chems and joining the Guard. Each idea and suggestion grew more elaborate, twisted, and chaotic, until the voice faded into maniacal laughter and grew distant. The last voice was the worst. Vaguely feminine, but with enough masculinity to keep any potential gender ambiguous. It would howl and moan at him lustfully, taunting him with the names of chems, and inviting him to indulge in some of the most horrific pleasures imaginable. Only the chems, Kalma, lho-sticks, and others, would keep the voices pleased and relaxed. This would allow him to drift off into a dark sleep by about 8pm. This is when the nightmares would begin.

In his night terrors, he would see massive, bloated corpses lumbering towards him and attempting to pull him into a grotesque embrace. These would disappear, leaving him feeling ill and disgusted with himself, just in time for the next phantoms. He would be charged at by a horde of men armed with blades and axes, who would maim and beat each other, drinking and bathing in the spilled blood. These too would fade, leaving him covered in scars and gore, piles of viscera left around him. Next he would always find himself in a library, with shelves taller than even the tallest of the hive towers, the names on the spines written in a language long lost to mortal men like him. The books would then come flying off of their shelves, circling above his head, and chanting their arcane knowledge. This would continue until he found himself driven mad from the tomes’ cacophonous noise. As he lay in the darkness, a gibbering wreck of a man, he would hear the lustful cries of those embraced in intimacy, and of those ingesting chems of all varieties. They would invite him, call out to him by name, and even grasp at him to drag him into their world of unreachable pleasure. At the end of it all, he would see himself standing in an empty hall, the black stone floor embedded with an emblem lost to the ages. A single bronze eight-pointed star, with a circle encompassing it. Eventually he would wake the next morning, physically rested, but mentally horrified. Normally upon the morning, he would invite his lips in a short prayer to the God-Emperor, but for the past few months, he had been unable to find the words.

Dressing himself in the clothes of the Hive’s corrupt low-class citizens, arming himself with his slugthrower pistol and knife, and stuffing a pack full of various chems, he would set out for his job. Living in the slums of the slums, his only real employment was working as a package and message runner for one of the crime bosses. It paid rather generously for the company it invited, but Sanath spent most of it on chems to feed his various addictions, keeping enough to keep him barely fed, basically-clothed, and relatively safe, left over. This made him a thin, scrawny man, standing at only five feet seven inches, with a measly one hundred and fifty-three pounds of meat. He was, however, an expert at shooting, hiding, and running. This had saved him from more than a few close-calls, as the messages he delivered weren’t always pleasant. Today, he had been hired to deliver a warning to a bookstore that had refused the “protection” of his boss. Entering the store, Sanath Marko found it completely unoccupied. Seeing no harm in lingering about, he would eventually come across a book marred with a familiar symbol.

The book had no title, but upon the cover lied the same eight-pointed star, etched with black thread. Cautiously reaching out to the book, Sanath heard the same voices as before, calling out to him in an odd unison, as though each voice was trying to drown out the other three. Heed the Call, follow the Path. they recited, growing louder the closer his hand drew to the book. When he seized it by the spine, he heard the voices cry out almost joyfully, then grow silent. He hurriedly stuffed the book into his bag, shoving it against the myriad of chems stored within, then fled back to his dwelling, both scared and eager to see what awaited him.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content]

I think I'd like to join this as well. Have a character concept in the back of my mind that'd be great for something like this.

It's A Wonderful Life! - An Imperial Guard (40K) RP [Looking for Guardsmen]

@SarpedonHe's right. In the Guard, you always call someone a higher rank than you 'sir'. People in a positon of authority above you, but outside the Astra Militarum are 'My Lord' or 'My Lady', hence why Guardsmen in 40k: Space Marine refer to you as Lord.

Suicide Squad: A Warhammer 40,000 Xenos RP

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGG!!!!

Definitely interested in an Ork RP.

Fallout: Orleans

@UlstermannI'm gonna be joining up on the Dogs of Dijon Street quest as well.

EDIT: But for now I'm headed off for bed. See you all tomorrow.

Fallout: Orleans

@Ulstermann

Franklin and Scar were rather surprised that they managed to make such a large amount from the citizens of Orleans, indeed it truly was a hub of trade and commerce. As they began closing up for the day, disassembling their stall and packing up the rest of their goods, they were approached by a ghoul, clad in the clothing commonplace for the mysterious strangers of Pre-War movies. Scar started to tell him to back off, but before he could speak, Franklin held up his hand and stopped him. Listening to the Ghoul speak, Franklin nodded his head and replied "My associate and I are very much interested, and wish to hear more. But, before we continue, perhaps you would prefer if we left for somewhere more private, Mr...?" He stopped, hoping the ghoul would give him some kind of name or title to use.

It's A Wonderful Life! - An Imperial Guard (40K) RP [Looking for Guardsmen]

@JbcoolI was gonna ask something, but then I realized I already knew the answer.

Fallout: Orleans

For curiosity's sake, and because I'd like some feedback, what were everyone's thoughts on my first post with the con artist duo? I want to make sure they're coming across the way I want them to.