SillyGoy Member
Goius Sillius
STATUS: Really busy right now. Will probably not be able to post till next week. 8 yrs ago
Ariamis
ZoldyckStatus
Recent Statuses
8 yrs ago
Current
Really busy right now. Will probably not be able to post till next week.
Bio
Just a guy who enjoys narrative writing with others when he's not dabbling in other things. Not much to say, really.
E-Mail is sillygoy@gmail.com for those interested for whatever reason.
E-Mail is sillygoy@gmail.com for those interested for whatever reason.
Most Recent Posts
In
In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
In
In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Ollumhammersong
No, he's not a vanguard vet. Just a really good assault sergeant. I'm changing his age from 152 to 177 if that helps. As for his name - well, it'll make for some very lame jokes during the campaign.
No, he's not a vanguard vet. Just a really good assault sergeant. I'm changing his age from 152 to 177 if that helps. As for his name - well, it'll make for some very lame jokes during the campaign.
In
In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
In
In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
How do you like this, boss? Every army needs good NCO's.
Name: Avernus
Age: 177
Appearance:
Avernus stands tall, even for an Astartes, reaching up to almost nine feet in height outside of armor. He is clad in standard Mark VII plate, repainted from the dark colors of his parent chapter to the glaring brilliance of the Celestial Falcons. He assesses threats and possible areas of tactical advantage through the rictus snarl of his Mark VII helm, and launches himself to the midst of the enemy with his jump pack. And together with his squad, he cuts into them with his bolt pistol and chainsword.
His features are wide, thin-lipped and gaunt, and his head is clean shaven. Like the rest of those implanted with the seed of Lord Corax, his skin is deathly pale and his eyes are jet black. He looks like a corpse even more so than the usual scion of the Raven. Veins and arteries can be seen bulging under his skin, traveling through the mountain of muscle that makes up his superhuman form. Sometimes they cross scars from past mistakes against equal or superior foes.
Desired Position: Assault Sergeant
Equipment:
Special Skills:
Shock, Awe and Death: Avernus was one of the the best assault marines in the Raven Guard. His strikes are swift, his blows are true, and his squad always seems to land at precisely where the enemy is at their weakest. Even among Astartes his melee combat skill is superb. He has absorbed the instruction of Corax like a sponge, and more than one armored column has fallen prey to his squad's ambushes and their barrage of sudden krak grenades.
Personal History:
Avernus' history before the Raven Guard is irrelevant to his current being. In fact, all he remembers of that time are just vague black-and-white images of a burning Hive World, and the giants that had come to save it. He remembers being chosen amidst smoke and flame, his still tiny hand awkwardly clutching a bloodied laspistol.
But after this, the memories turn from grayscale pictures to vibrant, colored explosions of recollection. Eager to prove himself and realizing the chance that he had been given, Avernus devoted himself entirely to the Chapter. He served his time as Scout without error and was eventually picked for the Assault role for his particular talent at hand-to-hand combat. So then Avernus began to thrive, under Sergeant Garren's command. He relished in the way the Raven Guard fought - the decisive victories won before the enemy even knew what was happening. Eventually Sergeant Garren was promoted to a higher position and Avernus would inherit the role of squad leader.
Avernus still serves in this capacity as a member of the Celestial Falcons, although he did not volunteer to be part of the successor brotherhood, and doesn't hold any strong feelings regarding the Lord Commander - rather, he was volunteered by one of the Captains. Offended at first, he quietly resigned himself to the logic that the new Chapter simply needed bodies and experience. Counsel with a Chaplain helped him to find peace with this sudden change. So he ultimately took the transfer as an honor, rather than an insult.
He was rather mellow with being stripped of his honors and starting anew. They were rather gaudy anyway. Besides, Avernus keeps his own honor roll - and that is his memory. The eidetic recollection of an Astartes gives him the ability to relive the destruction of any and every foe he has faced in the past. Space Marines like Avernus destroy the enemies of Man and this great honor doesn't necessarily have to be displayed for all to see. Visiting them in their shadowy monuments from time to time is enough to show respect. At least, that's what he thinks.
Avernus, then, has some obvious issues with his new Chapter's policies. However, he doesn't like voicing them out loud. Sometimes he is passive-aggressive over them, but he would never disobey a direct order.
Avernus currently commands Squad Avernus, an assault squad full of young blood eager to prove themselves.
Squad Avernus:
Name: Avernus
Age: 177
Appearance:
Avernus stands tall, even for an Astartes, reaching up to almost nine feet in height outside of armor. He is clad in standard Mark VII plate, repainted from the dark colors of his parent chapter to the glaring brilliance of the Celestial Falcons. He assesses threats and possible areas of tactical advantage through the rictus snarl of his Mark VII helm, and launches himself to the midst of the enemy with his jump pack. And together with his squad, he cuts into them with his bolt pistol and chainsword.
His features are wide, thin-lipped and gaunt, and his head is clean shaven. Like the rest of those implanted with the seed of Lord Corax, his skin is deathly pale and his eyes are jet black. He looks like a corpse even more so than the usual scion of the Raven. Veins and arteries can be seen bulging under his skin, traveling through the mountain of muscle that makes up his superhuman form. Sometimes they cross scars from past mistakes against equal or superior foes.
Desired Position: Assault Sergeant
Equipment:
- Mark VII Aquila Full Set
- Bolt Pistol
- Chainsword
- 3x Fragmentation Grenades
- 3x Krak Grenades
Special Skills:
Shock, Awe and Death: Avernus was one of the the best assault marines in the Raven Guard. His strikes are swift, his blows are true, and his squad always seems to land at precisely where the enemy is at their weakest. Even among Astartes his melee combat skill is superb. He has absorbed the instruction of Corax like a sponge, and more than one armored column has fallen prey to his squad's ambushes and their barrage of sudden krak grenades.
Personal History:
Avernus' history before the Raven Guard is irrelevant to his current being. In fact, all he remembers of that time are just vague black-and-white images of a burning Hive World, and the giants that had come to save it. He remembers being chosen amidst smoke and flame, his still tiny hand awkwardly clutching a bloodied laspistol.
But after this, the memories turn from grayscale pictures to vibrant, colored explosions of recollection. Eager to prove himself and realizing the chance that he had been given, Avernus devoted himself entirely to the Chapter. He served his time as Scout without error and was eventually picked for the Assault role for his particular talent at hand-to-hand combat. So then Avernus began to thrive, under Sergeant Garren's command. He relished in the way the Raven Guard fought - the decisive victories won before the enemy even knew what was happening. Eventually Sergeant Garren was promoted to a higher position and Avernus would inherit the role of squad leader.
Avernus still serves in this capacity as a member of the Celestial Falcons, although he did not volunteer to be part of the successor brotherhood, and doesn't hold any strong feelings regarding the Lord Commander - rather, he was volunteered by one of the Captains. Offended at first, he quietly resigned himself to the logic that the new Chapter simply needed bodies and experience. Counsel with a Chaplain helped him to find peace with this sudden change. So he ultimately took the transfer as an honor, rather than an insult.
He was rather mellow with being stripped of his honors and starting anew. They were rather gaudy anyway. Besides, Avernus keeps his own honor roll - and that is his memory. The eidetic recollection of an Astartes gives him the ability to relive the destruction of any and every foe he has faced in the past. Space Marines like Avernus destroy the enemies of Man and this great honor doesn't necessarily have to be displayed for all to see. Visiting them in their shadowy monuments from time to time is enough to show respect. At least, that's what he thinks.
Avernus, then, has some obvious issues with his new Chapter's policies. However, he doesn't like voicing them out loud. Sometimes he is passive-aggressive over them, but he would never disobey a direct order.
Avernus currently commands Squad Avernus, an assault squad full of young blood eager to prove themselves.
Squad Avernus:
- Sergeant Avernus
- Brother Rovek
- Brother Bern
- Brother Sepricor
- Brother Erandor
- Brother Tarraq
- Brother Vurnon
- Brother Daramin
- Brother Thoric
- Brother Albus
In
In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
I'm very interested. Hold on while I get a sheet up. Is there a minimum to a character's rank? Is it possible just to play as a standard battle-brother?
hey that's pretty good
i dont know
The cloudless skies over Rabaul, despite being heavily contested, were not pockmarked by the black puffs of anti-aircraft fire. Rather, it was crisscrossed by the contrails of the hundred or so aircraft that dogfought in it, with each trail brilliantly describing the path that those war machines took. Some trails continued to be drawn by pilots determined to take down the enemy - others ended in flames and smoke, as they themselves were taken down. Anti-aircraft crews down on Rabaul base could do little but watch the show above. The risk of friendly fire was simply too great to begin engaging.
The crews would sometimes point to the sky, at some sudden explosion. "That was one of ours," one would say. "No, it was clearly an enemy Airacobra," another would chime in. At the altitude the aircraft were fighting, it was difficult to tell their allegiance. Although sometimes, crashing birds would streak over the base close enough so that they could be reliably identified before inevitably splashing into the ocean. To everyone's dismay, it appeared that more Zeroes than Grummans were being taken down - but of course, nobody would admit that out loud. During a battle, one's thoughts should be as far away as possible from the notion of defeat - and besides, given the glorious victories at Midway and Guadalcanal, among others, there was simply no way the Americans could triumph over the Imperial war machine.
But among the spectators, there was someone special. Someone whose mind was entirely elsewhere. Senior private Kazuo was the assistant gunner of the 2nd Type 98 Triple in his battery - and he didn't care about any of this. His eyes weren't even on the dogfight. Rather, he was facing down, knuckles on his chin and contemplating deeply. Thinking about cawfeugh. That was all he cared about. Cawfeugh, and green teaugh.
"Cawfeugh," he muttered to himself. Meanwhile, directly over his back and 7,000 feet away, a Japanese ace had just torn off the wing of some American rookie. "I would like some moa, cawfeugh. And green teaugh."
The cloudless skies over Rabaul, despite being heavily contested, were not pockmarked by the black puffs of anti-aircraft fire. Rather, it was crisscrossed by the contrails of the hundred or so aircraft that dogfought in it, with each trail brilliantly describing the path that those war machines took. Some trails continued to be drawn by pilots determined to take down the enemy - others ended in flames and smoke, as they themselves were taken down. Anti-aircraft crews down on Rabaul base could do little but watch the show above. The risk of friendly fire was simply too great to begin engaging.
The crews would sometimes point to the sky, at some sudden explosion. "That was one of ours," one would say. "No, it was clearly an enemy Airacobra," another would chime in. At the altitude the aircraft were fighting, it was difficult to tell their allegiance. Although sometimes, crashing birds would streak over the base close enough so that they could be reliably identified before inevitably splashing into the ocean. To everyone's dismay, it appeared that more Zeroes than Grummans were being taken down - but of course, nobody would admit that out loud. During a battle, one's thoughts should be as far away as possible from the notion of defeat - and besides, given the glorious victories at Midway and Guadalcanal, among others, there was simply no way the Americans could triumph over the Imperial war machine.
But among the spectators, there was someone special. Someone whose mind was entirely elsewhere. Senior private Kazuo was the assistant gunner of the 2nd Type 98 Triple in his battery - and he didn't care about any of this. His eyes weren't even on the dogfight. Rather, he was facing down, knuckles on his chin and contemplating deeply. Thinking about cawfeugh. That was all he cared about. Cawfeugh, and green teaugh.
"Cawfeugh," he muttered to himself. Meanwhile, directly over his back and 7,000 feet away, a Japanese ace had just torn off the wing of some American rookie. "I would like some moa, cawfeugh. And green teaugh."
Impatient bump. Hello?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH TENNO HEIKA BANZAAAAAIIII
SHOW ME YOUR BANZAI FACE
Hey, this is pretty interesting.
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