Noxious

Sacred Arms: a Tale of Heroes

My grandfather passed away. I'm not sure if I'm going to go dark for a few days or not, but I just wanted to give you a heads up in case I disappear for a few days.

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

@Bright_Ops I'm in. When I get off work I have some family issues to deal with but later tonight I should have more time.

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

I felt Rosalux (my character) needed a little motivation to turn to Nurgle. As far as gifts go she has Weeping Widow: a fever that flares and occasionally drops away. It has messed with her head a little as well as one eye with boiled blood breaking some blood vessels. She is contagious when the fever is active through direct contact with bodily fluids. Since I already took that liberty I'd understand if you pass me up this go round.

Sacred Arms: a Tale of Heroes

As soon as I get off work I'm going to start working on a post. Super excited; <3 you guys and happy Friday!

Star Heresy

Pʟᴀɴᴇᴛ Lᴜʏɴᴜs, Sɴᴏʀɪᴀ Bᴀᴢᴀᴀʀ; Ƭαηк ѳя ẞαηк........................// Hᴇx Gᴀᴜʟɪs

The waning light was supplanted by glittering tech and obnoxious colors, each demanding recognition from a milling populus and gaining a few oblique glances from the oscillating argent and ebon of her perception. Windows to the soul were a mockery to creation and evolution, an exaltation of transhumanism, a reflective glimpse at tainted humanity endeavoring for greatness with redefining tech, all culminating in the bastard offspring of man and machine. She seemed comfortable with this status and at home amongst the stalls and siren lights. They were all thralls to progress, her only differentiating cue was the beneficial bankroll of the Empire that hid within circuitry and processors intercalated amongst the homegrown true-bio.

With her entire team scattered about the Bazaar like feasting moakroaches on a decaying fusion engine, her stroll had remained decidedly central, lingering with a brevity uncatchable by vendors as she purused for something specific, something convenient. Lucky for her the assaultive market was only a klick beneath dull boots when convenience came blaring out of the skyscape in the form of a dilapidated blinking arrow coaxing familiar fiends towards a dingy staircase. “Tank or Bank”- she knew the place, though not this exact one. They were a sort of ‘chain’ boasting at least a squared dozen locations along transporter routes and offering booze and gambling sans cock measuring. The beacon was greeted with an expansion of those charcoal lined orbs and an inner giddiness that alleviated the burden of her steps so that boot covered feet practically skipped through the door.

She took the synthetic cement stairs two by two, humming a Brax’vairn fête song in time with the dulcet jingling that emanated from her body with each footfall. Every bound took the torment tailor beyond the light and into the welcoming favor of tenebrosity; a charitable descent thats completion put her face to face with an iconic sentinel. The man appeared to be pure muscle and ‘netics, nothing high brow, but formidable enough to retain his employment. He favored a gesture over any vocalization, leaving his tone a mystery as a bruising hand motioned towards a placard that glowed at her right. Identification was not any concern here, quite the opposite, anonymity was thoroughly embraced by the proprietors of Tank or Bank. Instead the sign, and the warden, served a different purpose.

Neon lettering warned against the use of cyber, mech or tech advantageously while on the premise and provided a copious list that required a near illegible font to include the probable and ridiculous restrictions. Some inclusions, such as “ocular probability gauges” were so audacious she surmised they must be apocryphal fantasies. Regulation of tech and ‘netics were customary so her attention was only to the hilarity of mythical mods dreamed up by management. Some of her own modifications smoldered from the typeface, but this too was routine and she paid little mind. Rules were only rules if you get caught.

She nodded in concession to the restrictions as she unfurled the piceous silk niqab to reveal pale cheeks littered with freckles and full lips boasting a pleased grin. Arms wrapped in slate leather, distinctly not bovine, raised to her side to accommodate the coming weapons check. This was not her first rodeo and weapons checks were commonplace even amongst those that ingrained weapons within; something archaic that promoted the deceit of security. The apathetic muscle patted her down, possibly this man was a mute. In this lull of engagement she imagined his name was probably Francis in youth and as he reached the upper echelon of physical prowess he changed it to something ridiculous like Dozer or Beef, an insult his mother would not likely dismiss. Beef cake, satisfied that the minx in muted tones was no threat, waved her through the final door and into the main attraction.

As the door closed behind her the effect of the room was all consuming. Time itself dissipated into the realm of myth and rumor as any indicator of sun/starlight was suppressed by subterranean walls. Having just left the early evening of above she was temporarily shocked at the amount of clientele already collected around tables and the axial bar; but this was a much denser population than she was accustomed and likely concealed a continual stock of customers. Even with the considerable patronage the place plugged reminiscent feelings and familiarity that cajoled a rise of confidence. She allowed time and pretense to slip from her as she became one with the flurry of movement, booming laughter of drunks and mutt accents chattering away at varying decimals.

Eyes slid about the room with the pace of someone unburdened by decisiveness, movements mirroring this luxury of time. When the expanse of the room had been tread she settled on a Moxon™ table. Her languid form paused behind a vacant chair, taking in the game as they neared the end of a hand. “Mind if I join?” each syllable was coated in indication of origin, one habitually suppressed, but seemed quite fitting in a place like this. A husky fellow with the enticing smile of Dionysus raised an affable eyebrow in her direction while his large palm slapped the synthetic material of the seat next to himself.

“Desdric?” His own accent was similar, if not more refined, and as people often do when faced with a piece of home at such distance, she immediately took a liking to the man. Lips curled in a smile around words that suddenly favored a comradely tone.

“Brax’vairn actually, same sector.” She replaced his hand with her weight upon the seat and deposited a conservative amount of chips on the table before her.

“Brax huh? I didn’t think your kind left the home land.”

“Oh, we get out and about to acquire things from time to time.” Thick lashes provided a quick wink for the man as she added a sickly sweet tinge to ‘acquire’ that directed the mind towards something nefarious. "We can't always rely on abandoned ships to stumble into our atmosphere for parts." Her response compelled the rugged man to release an authentic laugh, one that rose from his large stomach and shook his cheeks. It was the kind of laugh that infected those present and Hex, lacking immunity, laughed along with him, though she wasn't quite sure what she'd said that he found so humorous. If he hailed from Desdric, it was probable the man facilitated the 'abandonment' of a few space vessels in his time and perhaps he found her stature lacking for the piracy sector.

The conversation continued along with the card game, bouncing about between topics of home, the up and coming mods and their current locale all beneath the two toned flicker of tech meant to detect any mod usage. She was at the same table with her new found companion, Trexel, when the familiar chirp sounded in her head and Anson’s message came through.

<Sᴛᴀᴛᴜs ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ. Aʟʟ ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs, ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴᴇss.>

Trexel continued their conversation, oblivious to the myriad of voices within her mind, calling out location and readiness. She didn't miss a beat as her own intonation chimed in.

<Cᴇɴᴛʀᴀʟ Sɴᴏʀɪᴀ; sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ.>

Star Heresy

I'll be posting shortly. Been a bit busy. Happy Friday Bitchachos!

ςнαяαςтєяş × яøℓєρℓαчş

Hesper HEX Gaulis

Hesper "Hex" Gaulis

AGE჻ twenty-four ✖✖✖ GENDER჻ female ✖✖✖ RANK჻ 2nd Lieut

APPEARANCE჻

She maintained an athletic build that stood at an average height; wholly unexceptional save for the pale freckled skin and dark coloring that confessed her home sector. Upon those freckled cheeks perched gluttonous rosé lips that seemed forever pleased; occasionally exaggerating the sweet smile and blossoming dimples proceeding wicked actions. Hair the hue of wispy obsidian was kept short and fell messily around unnatural eyes, once the mirrored stain of locks color, now glittered with the shaved silver of tech. The tattoos of military and her home world laced and blended with tech on the entirety of her body. Her right arm from the elbow down was the only glaring technology that seemed almost devoid of bio-filler but held onto its human shape despite the exaggerated fingers.

✖ ✖ ✖

BACKGROUND჻

Brax’vairn was a rare stopping point on trade routes, an aphotic dwarf planet refurbished into a one-stop-shop salvage yard. Many would have assumed that Brax would have gone rebel, but the populus suffers from an affliction of tight knit tradition. There were seven main ‘metropolitan’ areas on the floating rock; heavily connected by a fossil tram system. This was no feat considering the surface of the planet was a meager 1.56 × 107 km2 [a bit smaller than Pluto] and was mostly covered in scrap.

_{“Mech, tech, interstellar, ATV, hell even certified bio-log-i-cal;}
^{You want it? We’ve got it! Here in Brax’vairn Main.”}

People didn’t move to Brax and people didn’t move away. This allowed for an almost cult like existence and belief systems; old world religion blended with tech and superstition. Morality, while implemented and touted, was a decaying and tainted bastard of previous generations. As if that was not enough to convey an eldritch existence, the lack of sunlight only proved to compound the situation, infecting generations with a bothersome sensitivity to UV and affinity for darkness. This is not to say the people of Brax were exclusively somber; in fact the people had a multitude of religious celebrations that consumed the planet with debaucherous reverie.

_{Home is not where the heart is.}
^{Home is what the heart is.}

Medicine was not some calling that had followed Hesper from childhood. In fact, she stumbled in and fell into the Space Marines before she could blink. Her pro transhumanism upbringing and experimental fancies were raised in a (somewhat shady) bio-tech chop shop that had catered to her understanding the in’s and out’s of bio tech. Space Marine’s had simply been a way out, but they quickly became so much more. She absorbed the exhilaration of new tech alongside violence and excelled in service. They moved her into Special-Ops and her freedom and skills increased. When the 7-5 started looking for a medic, she was an obvious choice and took the job with a fluttering heart. She was honored to be one of the feared--childhood goal fulfilled.

^{Dead is dead; Parts is parts.}

Dead guys is parts.
Dead guys is parts.

^-Ripperjack

✖ ✖ ✖

PERSONALITY჻

● sadistic
● relentless
● empathetic
● idealistic
● meticulous

✖ ✖ ✖

SPECIALTIES჻

● we're going to need a medic

Knowledge and access to combat drugs and field dressings. Surgical knowledge pertaining to bio-true (human), bio-tech (techno-human cross) with built in signal/function sensors and manipulators. For example, if a heart stops, cybernetics built into Hex have the ability to hyper focus on the electrical impulses of that organ and shock the heart to promote reboot.

● we're going to need an answer

Medical background gives a unique perspective into triggers, pain and its receptors. She has invasive knowledge on tissue, bio-mechanics, nerve bundles, organs and bone structure. For example, the same mechanism to restart a heart can be used to cycle a cease and reboot of the heart for hours. Her mind is unrelenting in its inquiry for human pain; for the Empire of course, and science.

Star Heresy

Hesper "Hex" Gaulis

AGE჻ twenty-four ✖✖✖ GENDER჻ female ✖✖✖ RANK჻ 2nd Lieut

APPEARANCE჻

She maintained an athletic build that stood at an average height; wholly unexceptional save for the pale freckled skin and dark coloring that confessed her home sector. Upon those freckled cheeks perched gluttonous rosé lips that seemed forever pleased; occasionally exaggerating the sweet smile and blossoming dimples proceeding wicked actions. Hair the hue of wispy obsidian was kept short and fell messily around unnatural eyes, once the mirrored stain of locks color, now glittered with the shaved silver of tech. The tattoos of military and her home world laced and blended with tech on the entirety of her body. Her right arm from the elbow down was the only glaring technology that seemed almost devoid of bio-filler but held onto its human shape despite the exaggerated fingers.

✖ ✖ ✖

BACKGROUND჻

Brax’vairn was a rare stopping point on trade routes, an aphotic dwarf planet refurbished into a one-stop-shop salvage yard. Many would have assumed that Brax would have gone rebel, but the populus suffers from an affliction of tight knit tradition. There were seven main ‘metropolitan’ areas on the floating rock; heavily connected by a fossil tram system. This was no feat considering the surface of the planet was a meager 1.56 × 107 km2 [a bit smaller than Pluto] and was mostly covered in scrap.

_{“Mech, tech, interstellar, ATV, hell even certified bio-log-i-cal;}
^{You want it? We’ve got it! Here in Brax’vairn Main.”}

People didn’t move to Brax and people didn’t move away. This allowed for an almost cult like existence and belief systems; old world religion blended with tech and superstition. Morality, while implemented and touted, was a decaying and tainted bastard of previous generations. As if that was not enough to convey an eldritch existence, the lack of sunlight only proved to compound the situation, infecting generations with a bothersome sensitivity to UV and affinity for darkness. This is not to say the people of Brax were exclusively somber; in fact the people had a multitude of religious celebrations that consumed the planet with debaucherous reverie.

_{Home is not where the heart is.}
^{Home is what the heart is.}

Medicine was not some calling that had followed Hesper from childhood. In fact, she stumbled in and fell into the Space Marines before she could blink. Her pro transhumanism upbringing and experimental fancies were raised in a (somewhat shady) bio-tech chop shop that had catered to her understanding the in’s and out’s of bio tech. Space Marine’s had simply been a way out, but they quickly became so much more. She absorbed the exhilaration of new tech alongside violence and excelled in service. They moved her into Special-Ops and her freedom and skills increased. When the 7-5 started looking for a medic, she was an obvious choice and took the job with a fluttering heart. She was honored to be one of the feared--childhood goal fulfilled.

^{Dead is dead; Parts is parts.}

Dead guys is parts.
Dead guys is parts.

^-Ripperjack

✖ ✖ ✖

PERSONALITY჻

● sadistic
● relentless
● empathetic
● idealistic
● meticulous

✖ ✖ ✖

SPECIALTIES჻

● we're going to need a medic

Knowledge and access to combat drugs and field dressings. Surgical knowledge pertaining to bio-true (human), bio-tech (techno-human cross) with built in signal/function sensors and manipulators. For example, if a heart stops, cybernetics built into Hex have the ability to hyper focus on the electrical impulses of that organ and shock the heart to promote reboot. If her skills fail to meet the needs the Empire ensures all of its medics have a nice stash of nanosurgeons.

● we're going to need an answer

Medical background gives a unique perspective into triggers, pain and its receptors. She has invasive knowledge on tissue, bio-mechanics, nerve bundles, organs and bone structure. For example, the same mechanism to restart a heart can be used to cycle a cease and reboot of the heart for hours. Her mind is unrelenting in its inquiry for human pain; for the Empire of course, and science.

[closed]

When the hell did [*sub] & [*sup] get so crazy?????

what is going on here?
what is going on here?
what is going on here?

I know you know @Rockette, you the queen of formatting.

edit: I figured it out. OOOh overlap looks nice.

Star Heresy

@AmongHeroes I will be PMing my CS to you shortly! Sorry about the delay.