Lord Coake

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

Once again, High Command seemed to have no clue what the hell they were doing, thought Caius as he marched with the Cadian 88th alongside their Chimeras. Turning to face another soldier, he asked "So, do you think any of the other regiments will have made it to the Cathedral by the time we get there?" The man looked back at him and said "I doubt there are any other regiments left in the first wave. If there's even a single guardsman from another group at the damn thing, I'll give you my last lho-stick." Continuing the march, Caius managed to mooch half a bottle of Amasec in exchange for maxing out the power on someone's lasgun, much to the chagrin of the Machine Spirit. "Now, it's not my fault if the thing blows up in your face." He explained as he worked. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just trying to actually injure the damn greenskins." Caius handed him back the lasgun with a sigh. "Just...try to keep yourself alive." He said as he turned away, sipping at the alcoholic drink carefully. As he walked among the regiment, he also managed to scrounge up some food, though it was mainly made up of a corpse-starch ration. He devoured it quickly, having not eaten anything since before the initial charge hours ago. Downing a large gulp of Amasec to force down the sickening ration, he sighed and wiped his chin, resealing the bottle and stowing it away for later. As he continued, he noticed a shiny gleam through the rubble of what appeared to be an old house. He approached it, and saw a golden aquila neck charm, hanging off a metal rod. He snatched it up and looked it over. It appeared undamaged, and he chose to clasp it around his neck, running his thumb over it as he whispered a quick prayer to the God-Emperor, asking Him to watch over his regiment and the others that still live. He did so as he marched, just in time to catch up to where the majority of the 3003rd waited, and for the Cadian 88th's Vox-casters to pick up the 3003rd's message to any forces stationed in the Cathedral up ahead.

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

@SarpedonI heard they did the things and got plenty of points.

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

The Voices.

They whispered to Sanath when he awoke, creeping into his skull with words of praise. They thanked him for finding the book, reading its contents, giving them names. They encouraged him to seek out more knowledge, learn the truth of the universe, find his real self. After inhaling a dose of Kalma to start the day, Sanath donned his usual clothes and armaments, before carefully placing the book he had found within his bag, and rushing out the door.

In his dealings as a messenger for a local Crime Lord, Sanath had learned a fair bit about some of the hidden cults and sects that lay in the grime and dirt of the underhive, though he had never thought to connect them to the voices he heard. Recalling an old ally from the past who might know of such things, he traversed the alleyways and corridors of the city, before arriving at an inconspicuous shop wedged between two large tenement buildings. The grimey, glowing sign stated Ilario's Specialty Goods, which Sanath knew to mean items of questionable legality. He slowly entered the storefront, cautiously glancing around before approaching the shopkeeper at the counter. "uhm...yeah. Is Ilario here? Tell him Sanath Marko needs to speak with him. It's important business." Sanath said to the man, who gave him a curious look before walking up the stairwell to the above offices. Sanath heard a door creak open, and some muffled speaking before the shopkeep returned, gesturing with a thumb up the stairs saying "Boss's upstairs, ready to see ya..." Sanath spoke a quick thanks to the man before rushing up the steps. He entered the office and quietly shut the door behind him, the man in the elaborate chair behind a desk swiveling it around to face him.

"San, ol' friend! It's good to see ya!" laughed the sleazy man by the name of Ilario, his ring-encrusted fingers clutching a lho-stick and a bottle of questionable liquid. "How're ya doin'? Still workin' for ol' Rotgut Dorn?" Sanath nodded as he sat in the chair across the desk, placing his bag upon his lap. "So what did ya need?" Ilario asked, a wild grin with many missing teeth resting upon his face. "Well, I have this 'item' that I needed more information on. You might wanna close those curtains." Sanath said, reaching into his bag to pull out the book, as Ilario stood to cover the windows of the office. Sanath placed the book upon the desk, the embedded eight-point star facing upward. Ilario chuckled a bit before giving Sanath another grin, this one far more sinister. "Well, lookie here. I figured you'd learn about 'em eventually, just didn't know when. This here book, it's tellin' ya about the Gods. The real ones, not that bloody corpse they preach about at the shrines." Sanath nodded, saying "I've read it, and that's exactly what it said. The reason I came to you is that, well I'm pretty sure these gods are talking to me. I hear these voices that match up with their personalities, and they want me to learn more." Ilario's face quickly turned far more serious, reaching into his desk to pull something out as he spoke. "I'll tell ya what, San. I know a place with people who can talk with ya about this. Take these, they'll help you get in. I'll also be sendin' the word out to 'em." With that he handed Sanath a small card with a stone. As the stone passed over the card, Sanath noted the same 8-pointed star from before. "Head to a placed called 'The Gentlemen's Boutique of Intriguing Antiques' and ask for the VIP area. When they ask for identification, show 'em that star and tell 'em I sent ya. That'll get ya where ya need to go." Sanath stood from the chair and thanked Ilario with a firm handshake, leaving the room and setting out for the shop in question...

@Jbcool

The Emperor's Judgement: A 40k Imperial Navy RP

The Emperor's Judgement

In the waning years of the 41st Millennium lies the last bastion of hope for Civilization in the galaxy: The Imperium of Man. Besieged on all sides by foul xenos species, traitorous heretics and cultists, and internal strife, the Imperium must constantly be on the alert, fending off all foes. Most tales of war revolve around the heroics of the Imperial Guard, the soldiers of the Emperor, or his sons, the almighty Adeptus Astartes. However, neither of these forces would be nearly as capable as they are if it weren't for the Emperor's own battlefleet, the Imperial Navy. This is the story of one ship and its crew, an Overlord Battlecruiser known as The Emperor's Judgement.

So now that the fancy intro is out of the way, time for some explanation. We will be playing the Bridge Crew, Security officials, Naval Commissariat, and other assorted crew of an Overlord Class Battlecruiser on a detached duty patrol on the border of Imperial Space.

Rules:
1. My word is law, if I make a decision, you are welcome to try and persuade me from it, but if I say it is final, it is final.
2. Proper Grammar and spelling are a must. I'm fine with smaller post sizes, so long as they aren't a constant stream of one-liners.
3. An understanding of the Warhammer 40k Universe, The Imperial Navy, and The Naval Hierarchy are highly recommended, though I can and will be able to fill any knowledge gaps or questions.
4. If you and another player have any sort of disagreement, please take it to a PM with me tagged, where I will do my best to mediate the situation. If needed, moderator support may be called.
5. Godmodding(Making yourself unbeatable) and controlling a character created by someone else without permission are strictly prohibited.
6. You may run only ONE character at a time, though replacements for deceased characters are welcome.
7. My intended plan for handling character ranks is as such: You PM me your CS with which position aboard the ship you wish to fulfill, and I will suggest a rank suitable for that role. From there we can discuss it further.
8. As proof that you have read every rule(because they're kinda lengthy), tell me your character's favorite color when you PM the CS

Character Sheet Structure:

CS Template

Name:
Gender:
Age:
Appearance:(No pictures by themselves)

Crew position:
Equipment/Belongings:
Career Achievements:
Skills and Talents:

Personality:
History/Bio:
Miscellaneous:

@Flagg@Ozymandias@agentmanatee@Jbcool RP is up! Please, PLEASE tag anyone else you think might enjoy this RP.

Warhammer 40k Imperial Navy RP

I've been working on this for a while, but I'm also getting completely swamped with school stuff. This may not start as soon as I hoped. Sorry guys...

Suicide Squad: A Warhammer 40,000 Xenos RP

@JbcoolI'm still here.

Fallout: Vancouver

Also I had planned for the Enclave to be one of the main 'Big Bads', which you can decode their plans through special events that I've set up.

@Legion-114

Fitting since IIRC they're supposed to have a major holding in annexed Canada and Alaska.

Fallout: Vancouver

@KorbanjaroThe Railroad tells the FO4 PC several times that the lives of Synths are more important than any person, so I doubt they would be focused on saving humans from slavery.

Fallout: Vancouver

Abram Martin

Name: Abram Martin

Age: 237

Gender: Male

Race: Ghoul

Appearance: Abram has the rotting, carcass-colored flesh trademark of ghouls, though his time spent in the wilderness means more vegetative growth graces his body. His scalp is graced by enough hair to be somewhat presentable, and his eyes burn with a bright, fiery red glow. He wears his old US Army olive fatigues, though covered in grime and dirt, with black hiking boots, and an old US Air Force bomber pilot jacket from before the Great War. He also has a small wooden cross around his neck, tied with rope. For armaments he carries a scoped .308 bolt-action hunting rifle, an N99 10mm service pistol, a hunting knife, and a small switchblade hidden in his boot. He holds his gear and supplies in an olive green military backpack.

Affiliation: Solo, for now.

Backstory: Born in rural Washington State in 2054, Abram was raised catholic by his father and older brother John, with his mother having died after giving birth to him. His upbringing instilled in him a sense of faith, in both God and Humanity, and the patriotism rampant in pre-war America. Living in the rural woods, several miles from the nearest small town, his father and brother would often take Abram hunting with the family rifle, a tradition Abram upholds to this day. This is where he obtained his honed marksmanship skills that would come to serve him well in the future. By the age of 18, in 2071, Abram's American fervor and faith led to both him and his older brother enlisting with the American Armed Forces, with his brother serving in the Air Force, and himself serving in the Army. They both fought in the Liberation of Anchorage, with Abram winning a Silver Star for exceptional bravery. Abram's brother John was less lucky, being shot down in the return from a bombing run. Upon the end of Abram's tour of duty, John's jacket was given to him in memorium, which he wears to this day. After serving in the war against China, Abram returned to Washington, living in the home of his father, who had retired and moved away. This led to Abram's life as a wilderness man and near-hermit status, only making trips to town to purchase supplies, and sell off meat and furs. Perhaps it was this life that blessed him when the bombs fell, as he was far enough away to survive being obliterated, instead becoming a ghoul, doomed to liver forever. This is when he took to the wandering he does now, moving across the wastes with the game he hunts, trading and working in towns for goods and rest, before moving on to he next area.

Fallout: Vancouver

Abram Martin

Name: Abram Martin

Age: 237

Gender: Male

Race: Ghoul

Appearance: Abram has the rotting, carcass-colored flesh trademark of ghouls, though his time spent in the wilderness means more vegetative growth graces his body. His scalp is graced by enough hair to be somewhat presentable, and his eyes burn with a bright, fiery red glow. He wears a grimy, blue button-up shirt and denim pants, with black hiking boots, and an old US Air Force bomber pilot jacket from before the Great War. He also has a small wooden cross around his neck, tied with rope. For armaments he carries a scoped .308 bolt-action hunting rifle, an N99 10mm service pistol, a hunting knife, and a small switchblade hidden in his boot. He holds his gear and supplies in an olive green military backpack.

Affiliation: Solo, for now.

Backstory: Born in rural Washington State in 2054, Abram was raised catholic by his father and older brother John, with his mother having died after giving birth to him. His upbringing instilled in him a sense of faith, in both God and Humanity, and the patriotism rampant in pre-war America. Living in the rural woods, several miles from the nearest small town, his father and brother would often take Abram hunting with the family rifle, a tradition Abram upholds to this day. This is where he obtained his honed marksmanship skills that would come to serve him well in the future. By the age of 18, in 2071, Abram's American fervor and faith led to both him and his older brother enlisting with the American Armed Forces, with his brother serving in the Air Force, and himself serving in the Army. They both fought in the Liberation of Anchorage, with Abram winning a Silver Star for exceptional bravery. Abram's brother John was less lucky, being shot down in the return from a bombing run. Upon the end of Abram's tour of duty, John's jacket was given to him in memorium, which he wears to this day. After serving in the war against China, Abram returned to Washington, living in the home of his father, who had retired and moved away. This led to Abram's life as a wilderness man and near-hermit status, only making trips to town to purchase supplies, and sell off meat and furs. Perhaps it was this life that blessed him when the bombs fell, as he was far enough away to survive being obliterated, instead becoming a ghoul, doomed to liver forever. This is when he took to the wandering he does now, moving across the wastes with the game he hunts, trading and working in towns for goods and rest, before moving on to he next area.