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    1. Savage 9 yrs ago

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@BCTheEntityAwesome. I'm working on catching up on the IC and all the legions and Primarchs for now. I plan to re-invent my legion and Primarch from the first game, but with some heavy changes of course. I notice 1st Legion is up for grabs...mind if I put my chips down on that one and take it off the table for you?
Hey @BCTheEntity, been a long time eh? 6 years actually as I check my posts. I was wondering if you still had room here.

PS, sorry about bailing on your 6 years ago with this thread. Long story short I was coming home from a deployment overseas, didn't post for a long time, and eventually stopped roleplaying and writing completely for the next 6 years. Looking to get back in the game, and this specific roleplay you ran long ago was one of my favorites. I know I've got some catching up to do but just wanted to check if this is even open, I was shocked and excited to see you still running it.
Im still here as well.
The time has come. The first post is up my friends. Thank you all for your patience and hard work, I hope to make it all worth it.

Everyone put in a good deal of time and effort into their characters, and I am very pleased that you have all shown this much interest. Regrettably this is not a tale where all will be accepted, though I do hope that I can fit most of you in at some point. Those accepted are:

@Rockerman403
@SheriffLlama
@Atrophy
@Turbowraith
@Elderberry
@Oraculum

Those accepted may place their sheets in the Characters tab and begin your first post.
Pitted cobblestones wind their way down a low hilltop, the scratchy grassland around it looking patchy and poorly tended. The road begs for repair, but no mason has traveled this way in a very long time with any intention of lingering too long. A small hamlet of clustered buildings lay near the base of the hill, windows cracked and shuttered, the few people seen outside walking with downcast eyes. Everything around the little town looks dead or close to it. The waterlogged land around it looks to have once been a successful farm, but now only meager and drooping crops are grown in the small spaces between puddles of brackish water. The only thing that doesn’t stink of decay are the large flower beds that adorn the foundations of nearly every house and structure. Roses bloom in defiance of the stagnation around them. A learned man may make the connection that these flowers once earned this small hamlet its name, their variety of colors and vibrancy celebrated across the kingdom. Now, whatever force has stricken the lives and bodies of this region, has turned the proud namesake into a perverted mockery of itself. Vile thorns grow long and sinister along the twisting stems, the bulbs bursting into petals of a dark black color with a bit of pearlescent purple.

The sun is a red ball hovering over the horizon on Kirklan Bay, nearly fully set. The glow of the waning light has forced many inhabitants indoors, the poor light of candles and lanterns glinting through the cracks of shutters. Only one establishment even seems halfway receptive to travelers; a sagging and dilapidated tavern. The sign that dangles from one hook above the door bears the chipped and peeling likeness of a beautiful girl. The name “The Lovely Maiden” can be read with some difficulty below the portrait. This poor excuse for an inn has become a beacon within the town, the fat tavern keeper rubbing his hands with greedy glee at the amount of new business he has had lately.

Inside, seated on stools, benches, or even just their own packs, are all manner of strangers. Most look like hard men and women, their belts carrying weapons, their faces crossed with scars as they drink and wait. Some of those waiting are clothed in more simple attire, reading books and jotting notes in their journals. And some are simply vagabonds, clothed in little more than rags, kicked aside by the mercenaries. Some have been here for days, others having only just arrived. All have come here for one reason: to answer the call cast out by a mysterious employer, looking to make themselves rich on gold and artifacts promised.

Today the crowd is especially anxious. Today is the day that the contract said would be the final meeting time. Today they were all supposed to meet their new employer and start this job. Yet still, they wait. The hours drag on, and as the sun sinks below the horizon and darkness falls upon the hamlet many of the gathered hopefuls pick up and leave. There are mutters and mumbles of hoax and con, curses spat and a few especially drunk patrons upturning their chairs or tables as they leave. And still no one makes themselves known. As the tavern slowly empties, there are left only the most devoted, or the most desperate. The tavern keeper returns from his back room bearing a tray of nine mugs. He places the mugs down on top of a rough linen napkin in front of nine remaining patrons casually, as if only filling an order they have placed.

Underneath each piece of cloth is a single black rose petal, and a word hastily written in black charcoal.

Stable

Yo, I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to be gone for the next week, as I will be hiking on the Appalachian Trail. With a roleplay like this, I'm not sure if I will be able to start late, especially a week late, so I'm not sure if I can stay with this. Ava atque vale, and good luck to you all.


Sorry to hear that friend, but good luck on all of your travels! As a guy who used to live in the Appalachian area myself for a few years that is a gorgeous chunk of territory. You will have a blast.

I am currently reviewing more CS's that have been sent to me over the past few days, hence why we have not started this as of yet. So I will give my suggestions to everyone that has recently sent me a sheet, and I now plan to start this early next week in order to give everyone time to make any changes or corrections and get it back to me over the weekend.

I apologize again for the delay but I really appreciate you all sticking with me. We are very close.
“The taste of victory is so much sweeter when snatched from the jaws of failure”
-Erron Khaal, quoted in the Saga of Hinde


Like twin omens of victory, two Valkyries streaked above the onslaught, leaving twin tails of mist in the air as they circled the field and headed back in their direction of travel. Erron watched with a smile growing on his face as the aircraft dipped and turned, leaving almost as soon as they had arrived. His men had paid little notice or heed to the fighters, their attentions completely focused on keeping back the Orkish brutes that still pressed them from all sides. The assault from Void Master Gabriel and his Chapter had given the Wild Blades the surge they needed, giving strength to their arms. The entire Legion fought with the ferocity of wounded beasts backed into a corner, lashing back at the Orks and taking down three or four times as many xenos scum before an individual Astartes fell.

They would not have to hold much longer, Erron knew, his smile growing.

Over the ridge, barreling like a stampede of Taurochs bellowing with rage, the combined forces of the XVII and V Legion rose like an oncoming tidal wave. The Great Chief saw the colors of his brother and sisters forces in the distance, the massive frames of Knights and the roar of Rhinos filling the air. Dragging his bloodied sword from the gut of an Ork, he lifts the crimson soaked blade into the air and tilts his head back. A primal howl rips from his throat, mingling with the sounds of combat and the roar of their reinforcements as the first lines of the Paladins Eternal crash into the green tide. Bones crunch and bodies are churned underneath the treads and feet of the Paladins and their war machines. Like a wedge the allied forces drive into Ork lines, pushing aside the beasts as they reinforce the center where the Wild Blades have made a gap. The armored personnel carriers of the Astartes disgorge their payload of armored warriors, spilling out the azure and dark crimson armor of the Paladins to mix with the deep green of the Blades. As their cousins join them in conflict, the Wild Blades pull back their lines to allow the new arrivals a share of the glory, checking equipment and dragging the wounded away from the fight under the cover of their reinforcements. Erron watches as a squad of Marines in Terminator armor surge past his position, joining his Apexa Predatoris around him and giving the Primarch a bubble of calm.

Surveying the battle, the Great Chief can see that this new turn of events has dramatically affected the minds of the Orks. Fear shows plain on their savage faces, and more and more turn and try to flee. Some are successful, other are met with steel and bolter on the fringes as the outer Companies slaughter the broken xenos. Where there had once been a threat of defeat and death, now hung the bright light of victory.

+”Brother Erron, you were expecting us?”+

Erron turned, his smiling face regarding a Knight of greater size and embellishment than any of the others. He nodded his head, lifting his sword in salute to his brother warmachine.

“Aye, though you seemed to have arrived just in time for the party to end my friend. Still, looks like there is plenty of fun to be had,” Erron replies into the vox-mic on the collar of his armor. His mic crackles another time, the sound distorted through distance.

+"Brother Erron, tis thine own brother Talvyrn. I have arrived to support and relieve your forces with my own legion, we landed as close as we could to your location but the cogitators dropped us further than expected. Do you know of the quickest way into thy location?"+

Erron shakes his head slightly, a grin still on his face as he listens to the hail from another of his sibling Primarchs. “Always showing up right as things start to get going don’t you Tally? Maximus has just arrived, we are mopping things up here quickly. I’d suggest finding out if the Imperial Army is in need of support,” he replies, turning back to the Knight bearing Maximus.

“Now lets show these bastards what it means to face the Elite of Mankind,” he finishes with a wicked grin as we turns and dashes back into the fray, blades held high.




The remaining Orks had been disposed of quickly. Those that had managed to escape were left alone, to be hunted down later. Erron had received word from his Astropath that the Emporer himself had sent out a call for all Primarchs and their Legions to join him on Ullanor Prime. The Warboss had been slain, the invasion of Ullanor a success. No doubt such a day would bring glory and honor upon the participants for the remainder of time.

Erron himself, his armor still dented, slashed, and dulled from grim and blood, marched at the head of his Legion. Representatives from each of the ten Companies had been assembled, as well as the Chapter of Void Stalkers that joined them. The remainder of his Legion was left to refit and repair their equipment and prepare the fleet for exodus as soon as a new mission was given.

The ten ragged formations marched without ceremony or strict discipline towards the tower, their ranks uneven and the Astartes of the Wild Blades singing ballads of war, honor, and triumph as they walked towards the tower. Erron did not know why the Emperor was calling all of his siblings together, in truth he had not seen some of his brothers and sisters in decades. Such a calling no doubt had implications that could change the course of the Crusade.
Finally home. Reintegration has taken some more time than I thought, and I've been spending a lot of time with family as well. But a new post will be up today! I am rereading through some old stuff to refresh my memory and then will start up a new one so we can keep this ball rolling.
Pretty interested, if you're still accepting.


Still accepting. Looking to start this soon though so I would request that you don't take forever getting a character together. I'm willing to postpone for a few days though.
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