Wraithblade6

In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)

*revs chainsword*

I'm still excited.

ENTER THE ORDO: A Dark Heresy/40k Roleplay

I'm just keeping the ball rolling.

ENTER THE ORDO: A Dark Heresy/40k Roleplay

Markus beheld the mechanicus first. She was pretty, for one who sought the perfection of the Omnissiah and ultimately intended to replace much of her body with machine. Her arms were already replaced, a change that made even the psyker uncomfortable. He really hadn't gotten out much. He wished he could have sensed her thoughts, but he wasn't sensing much of anything with that guardsman around. He had so many questions for her, but his naive curiosity would have to be addressed later.

"Seeking the Inquisition per chance?" She asked.

"Ah. Yes. I..." He offered a weak smile, but realized her attention had already shifted elsewhere. "...I am." He finished, his hopes crashing upon the realization that he was less interesting than a servitor. Markus lowered his head and unconsciously sighed, his self esteem properly returned to the gutter.

"Well, it seems we're all here for a similar reason. Hopefully we'll have a time to introduce ourselves when someone ISN'T dying of unknown causes." The doctor interjected.

So it was true. They were all here for the same reason, to answer the same call. Markus' spirits improved upon realizing that he was no longer alone. These people were to be his... how did she put it? "Crew-mates?" Yes. That would be alright, as long as the soulless one harbored no ill intent. Lingering near the dutiful doctor, Markus kept wary of his newfound nemesis.

"We should all be going then. Forgive me for causing us delay. I pray the consequences of my weakness are not dire to our superiors." When speaking of the Inquisition, they certainly could be. Now that some color had returned to the boy's cheeks, Markus took his staff and began to head for the elevator. Yet, before he could make any progress, the last of their crew made his arrival.

The heated mutterings of a prayer and a faint sense of hatred came from behind him, and Markus dared to turn. Fury and determination nearly overwhelmed the dampening affect of the psychic null nearby, and poor Markus was once again intimidated. He stood bravely however, despite his fears of being targeted. He knew to place a hand across his chest and greet the priest of the God-Emperor with a penitent bow. Surely, he would be identified by a venerated Ecclesiarch, yet he had nothing to return for his inequities but service. "Let the God-Emperor's name be praised." He returned quietly in wrote.

The doctor introduced himself, so Markus felt it was time the rest of them followed suit. "Doctor Rumnaheim? Thank you for seeing to me. I am Markus Grevian. Just Markus, if... if any of you wish to call on me. Erm, our time draws short. We must not keep the Inquisitor waiting."

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Necroes I am. Am I asking the questions or answering them?

In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)

Veniktor Haines

.
Name: Veniktor Haines

Age: 397

Appearance: Veniktor has mid-length black hair, eyes so dark they could only be described as black, nearly white skin, and is average space marine height. He has no cybernetics, but has three hundred-year studs in his head where his hairline is receding on the right side. His expression is flat and unreadable, as is his monotone voice. He doesn't smile, and rumor has it he has never been friendly a single day in his life. To look at him is to look at one of the vermin-like Corvia, the small bird native to Kiavahr that the Legion is so fond of. His stillness in person is a stark contrast to the sudden violence he displays in battle when making a kill.

Desired position: Captain.

Equipment: MKVI Corvus Pattern Powerarmor, Jump Pack, Lightning Claws, Krak Grenades, Bolt Pistol (carried as backup).

Abilities:

Some say Veniktor once suffered the Sable Brand but was able to recover and regain his self control. This is how they explain his not-wholly-unique ability to call upon an almost supernatural level of fearsome, blind rage in the most intense heat of battle, and why his eyes are so black. Veniktor had trained to use a powerspear, with which he formerly employed the tactic of dive-bombing into the hearts of unsuspecting enemy commanders, but he now favors the claws as opposed to the more finesse-driven spear.

Personal History:

Like many of his brothers, Veniktor was recruited as a child from Deliverance, the moon of the forgeworld Kiavhar, homeworld to the Raven Guard in the Segmentum Tempestus. It was tradition in his family that the eldest male child be submitted for potential recruitment. It was an honor to be chosen, but at first, he missed his family. He wouldn't admit to it, for it was shameful to be caught still looking back, daring to hold any reservations about joining the Emperor's legions. Time passed and Veniktor eventually came to understand his personal attachments as the manifestation of a broader love for all imperial citizens.

He fought aggressively, always keeping the notion of being their protector foremost in his mind, and thus he fit comfortably in the assault ranks. After many battles, age and experience had made him valuable. He was promoted to assault sergeant and charged with leading his squadmates. He still does a fine job at this, but his tactics have drastically changed. Veniktor was in a battle to retake a forgeworld from chaos-infused traitor legioners about a century ago, and he was nearly killed. For a time afterward, had lost his mind, attacking even allies until his wounds could be addressed. Weeks of silence later, he returned to duty, but was no longer the same. He was quiet, judgemental, cold to the neophytes, and demanding in his training. He forced his squad to exercise even greater independence in their strategies than any other, least he reprimand them for failing to use their own minds where it was called for. Lack of wit was a punishable offense in Veniktor's black eyes. he seemed to be brooding over some vengeance denied.

Although the exact reasons remain unknown, Sergeant Veniktor was ordered to join the new chapter as one of their first captains. He had no say in the matter, nor would he have given one. He simply obeyed with a narrowing of his eyes and silence. This was probably an intentional move by the Master of Shadows who had become indifferent to him ever since his personality change. At least "Falcons" traditionally referred to the assault companies. Veniktor expected the new Lord Commander knew what he was getting into.

In the Emperor's name we shall not falter! (A warhammer 40k roleplay. Featuring space marines!)

Veniktor Haines

.
Name: Veniktor Haines

Age: 98

Appearance: Veniktor has mid-length black hair, dark eyes, pale skin, no cybernetics, and is average space marine height. His expression is usually fairly flat, but he is not unfriendly. His seems to still have the demeanor of a mortal, rather than a battle-hardened warrior-machine that is a typical Astartes. he is properly respectful and obedient.



Desired position: Assault marine, battle brother.

Equipment: MKVI Corvus Pattern powerarmor, jump pack, eviscerator, boltpistol, krak grenades.

Abilities, Psychic or otherwise: Also trained in tactical and devastator roles, but best at assault and therefore comfortably relegated to this role. Nothing wholly impressive or unusual, but seems to have a good head on his shoulders.

Personal History: Like many of his brothers, Veniktor was recruited as a child from Deliverance, the moon of the forgeworld Kiavhar, homeworld to the Raven Guard in the Segmentum Tempestus. It was tradition in his family that the eldest male child be submitted for potential recruitment. It was an honor to be chosen, but at first, he missed his family. He wouldn't admit to it, for it was shameful to be caught still looking back, daring to hold any reservations about joining the Emperor's legions. Time passed and Veniktor eventually came to understand his personal attachments as the manifestation of a broader love for all imperial citizens. He fights aggressively, always keeping the notion of being their protector foremost in his mind.

Still young, he has not yet seen his first century of true warfare, but has fought well so far. He volunteered to join the new chapter, having heard that the Lord Commander received a vision from the Emperor himself on Terra. He knew that warriors were needed for the new founding, and being relatively fresh himself, he would be better able to adapt to the change than his elder brothers. For Corax. For the loyal people of the Imperium. For the Emperor.

Warhammer 40k: Kill-Team Epsilon, a Death=][=Watch RP - Currently closed!

@Jbcool You can get this rp back to living status, you just have to get to it. It's a good rp. People want it to continue.

ENTER THE ORDO: A Dark Heresy/40k Roleplay

...His hatred of the mutant, the alien, and especially the witch far outstrip those of the average citizen.

@Xenonia

...

something something Omniverse

Rise.

The swirl of powerful teleportation forces swirled around him briefly before a dark and serene world opened up before him. Mithias stepped out into the path of an oncoming car, headlights blaring white LED into his adjusting eyes. He knew what it was instantly and leapt straight up.

The driver slammed on the breaks and sat stunned at what he had just witnessed.

BAM! Mithias landed directly on top of the vehicle, a yellow-colored cab that was now in the middle of a busy intersection during evening rush hour in the middle of the biggest city in the United States, New York. The driver jolted, certain he was just hit. Horns blared and curses were shouted in multiple languages as a large figure in black jumped down from atop the cab and startled a group of random humans on the sidewalk.

It was just past dark, yet you wouldn't know it by the ever-present lighting of the streets. Mithias quickly ascertained where he was. It was easy enough. The giant billboards and stench were a classic giveaway. He was home, Earth, but this wasn't the part of it that he wanted. Ignoring the onlookers around him, who had already begun to pull out their cellphones to video him, he manifested a blade in his right hand out of thin air. Purple light flickered as the weapon came into being, then vanished, leaving only the glimmer of something like steel behind. The people cooed and commented, but Mithias could feel their fear as they began to back away. "Vampire." They muttered. He could read it over and over appearing in their minds all around him. This was the world of Blood Compact.

And then in an instant, the 'vampire' disappeared, or rather, that is what the humans all saw. In truth, Mithias had deceived them all, psychically muting his presence in their minds until he was simply invisible. They couldn't notice him. They had no idea what had just happened, but they weren't hurt, they had places to be, nothing to see here. They moved along.

It was just too easy, thought Mithias as he stood atop a parked truck, watching all the humans. He thought about how it must have been to have such a power for thousands of years, about the consequences of it... yet his own power was now far greater than this. Now, he could do things none of his former kin could have ever dreamed. However long it had been, he had undoubtedly surpassed his maker. He lingered only a moment as a vision of Necron killing all these people flashed through his consciousness. The sidewalks would be awash with blood, dirty blood that now only sickened him at the thought of it. He no longer thirsted for it. He was whole once again, human, perfected. Mithias allowed himself to feel a surge of emotion as he fathomed what was about to happen to this unsuspecting world. The vision was going to come true, only a mere day or so from now. There would be no hope of informing the various factions of his own world of the impending doom, for they would not unite. They would never reach a consensus in time, but there was one being in this world that he had to inform, one being he owed his entire existence to, the one who had given him the choice that began it all. He... would still be alive. Whatever would come to pass, Mithias could not abandon him. It would shatter his sense of justice not to perform this last act of honor, no matter how irrational.

Using his blade, the enlightened and transcended version of Mithias Varomere rended space and slipped across into a burning light. Black sand touched his boots on the beach at Punaluu. Palms waved gently in the breeze and tourists gawked at the excessively clothed stranger that they swear hadn't been there only moments ago. Mithias ignored them. Although pressed for time, he was momentarily overtaken with the beauty and serenity of this place. The air was sweet and fresh, the waves natural and soothing, the very soul of the planet was innocent here, and for a moment, he wished it could always be so. Would that he could spend eternity here. Perhaps he was more like his father than he admitted.

Almost furiously, a psychic beacon powerful enough to wake the dead burst roughly from his consciousness in a 360 degree wave. He demanded to be seen, now.

ENTER THE ORDO: A Dark Heresy/40k Roleplay

@OppositionJ None of us can, it seems.