"You were impure iron when the Imperium found you."
There's no condescension in the instructor's voice nor carefully gilded malice reserved for any amongst them who he found especially unworthy. His voice is uniquely egalitarian and generous in its pride, and its pride with which he continues speaking, addressing the one-hundred and thirty of them that still stand before him. There had been twenty more, but they'd collapsed in the twenty-hour hours of meditation, most having the self-respect to drag themselves away before their teachers did.
"No shame shall burden you now. The stains your worlds left upon your bodies and soul have been washed away and left you brothers and sisters that will make fine servants of the Emperor."
Their heads all bow deeper even as the agony in their muscles calcifies, becoming something greater and impossible to describe. None know how much longer the speech will go on for, but none also dare so much as breath loudly, standing perfectly rigid in their white-and-red dress uniforms with their ceremonial blades glittering in the light of the artificial sun. Their own legs began to shake an hour ago. If any of them are to fall, it's themselves, and their eyes began watering long ago, their throats choking with a sob.
"You must understand one thing. One thing above all. When my corpse begins to wither-" A student gasps, horrified at the suggestion. He continues, mercifully ignoring her. "... and when you are challenged, no matter where you are, whether it be a foxhole or the bowels of a cruiser or within the Eye of Terror itself - your duty is to civilization."
That surprises some of them.
Not to the Administratum. Not to victory or even Holy Terra itself.
The offense taken by those in attendance is obvious - and he basks in it, staring them all down as if they were enemies suitable for his boot. He is three centuries old and leaning on a cane made of nothing but simple wood, unarmed, and he is unafraid, voice snapping with impossible youth.
"It is civilization! No other species before ours has accomplished half as much as Humanity, no other has bent the galaxy towards serving its needs such as we have done; we have broken stars so that they may provide power to cities that span entire worlds whose skies are filled with metal driven from the earth beneath them. Entities older than existence haunt us, and we stand. Aliens beyond number harry us, and we stand."
His voice rises as he grows more animated, coming to life and walking closer to them, brought forward by a wind that carries the blossoms around them.
"The universe was chaos before our arrival. We were not owed glory. It was not destined to us. We took it. We demanded obedience from a galaxy utterly indifferent to itself and branded meaning onto its surface. That is what I have taught you. Meaning. You carry the light of meaning and the spirit of discovery and purpose inside you now, and that is what you will carry no matter where you go."
He swallows, voice hoarse. Whatever rebellion festered in their hearts has been quashed, and now all they do is worry about catching the man as he lumbers away from them towards an array of caps that they have toiled and bled for for over a decade.
"Those beneath you will be found wanting. Always. It is your duty to lead them as shepherds guiding the lost. Their lives will have been without meaning before your arrival whether it be a regiment raised from Death World, Terra itself, Cadia - it matters not. They need you. Believe in their own potential as much as you know of your own, and help them find their own glory."
He picks a cap up off the ancient bench, and it's easy to imagine him sitting down on it, a child, watching the tree grow that hovers above them all.
Smiling, he says, "And you'll need these caps for them to recognize you, commissars."
...
Hiya. The above text serves as a framing for the vibe I'm going for in a story centered around a commissar in this bleak, horrible galaxy humanity has found itself in. I'd like to find a GM interested in a story that encompasses elements of culture shock, exploring the cultures of regiments and worlds, warfare and politics, and the occasional slice of life that comes with campaigning.
Whilst I imagine the roleplay will properly open well after the text up above ends, possibly with the first introduction of our main character to the regiment they've been assigned to, I'd be happy to explore possibilities. I pride myself on flexibility and value the input of my partners above all else, adherence to canon included. WH40K is a vibe to me, not a book that needs to be strictly adhered to for enjoyment to be made possible. This RP can be GRIMDARK, but I'd also like for it to be other things too; beautiful, surreal, inspiring; it's a big galaxy, and that means we should get to see fantastic fauna, alien life, cool supernatural things happening...
Our MC can be a wide spectrum of sexualities and gender orientation and their backstory is on the cutting room floor for the time being, but I'm toying with the idea of them being a lone survivor of Exterminatus carried out on their world, afforded an extraordinary amount of leniency when their world was found wholly guilty of consorting with aliens. It's intended for them to be less of the hammy, sociopathic commissars stereotyped in Dawn of War and more of a genuinely inspiring, emotionally activated person who tries to build connections with the souls they're responsible for. I am a-okay with the RP being deeply critical of the Imperium of Man as an institutions; no 'necessary evil' shit here. The Imperium sucks and is horribly evil and unnecessary, but it's still really cool aesthetically.
I'm supportive of romantic entanglements and NSFW content. If you've seen my other posts you know I approach smut in the same way I approach everything else; very serious until it isn't. I value levity and comedy and think sex is inherently funny, so don't be surprised if the kinkiest scene in our RP has some knee-slappers in it to keep the mood upbeat.
There's no condescension in the instructor's voice nor carefully gilded malice reserved for any amongst them who he found especially unworthy. His voice is uniquely egalitarian and generous in its pride, and its pride with which he continues speaking, addressing the one-hundred and thirty of them that still stand before him. There had been twenty more, but they'd collapsed in the twenty-hour hours of meditation, most having the self-respect to drag themselves away before their teachers did.
"No shame shall burden you now. The stains your worlds left upon your bodies and soul have been washed away and left you brothers and sisters that will make fine servants of the Emperor."
Their heads all bow deeper even as the agony in their muscles calcifies, becoming something greater and impossible to describe. None know how much longer the speech will go on for, but none also dare so much as breath loudly, standing perfectly rigid in their white-and-red dress uniforms with their ceremonial blades glittering in the light of the artificial sun. Their own legs began to shake an hour ago. If any of them are to fall, it's themselves, and their eyes began watering long ago, their throats choking with a sob.
"You must understand one thing. One thing above all. When my corpse begins to wither-" A student gasps, horrified at the suggestion. He continues, mercifully ignoring her. "... and when you are challenged, no matter where you are, whether it be a foxhole or the bowels of a cruiser or within the Eye of Terror itself - your duty is to civilization."
That surprises some of them.
Not to the Administratum. Not to victory or even Holy Terra itself.
The offense taken by those in attendance is obvious - and he basks in it, staring them all down as if they were enemies suitable for his boot. He is three centuries old and leaning on a cane made of nothing but simple wood, unarmed, and he is unafraid, voice snapping with impossible youth.
"It is civilization! No other species before ours has accomplished half as much as Humanity, no other has bent the galaxy towards serving its needs such as we have done; we have broken stars so that they may provide power to cities that span entire worlds whose skies are filled with metal driven from the earth beneath them. Entities older than existence haunt us, and we stand. Aliens beyond number harry us, and we stand."
His voice rises as he grows more animated, coming to life and walking closer to them, brought forward by a wind that carries the blossoms around them.
"The universe was chaos before our arrival. We were not owed glory. It was not destined to us. We took it. We demanded obedience from a galaxy utterly indifferent to itself and branded meaning onto its surface. That is what I have taught you. Meaning. You carry the light of meaning and the spirit of discovery and purpose inside you now, and that is what you will carry no matter where you go."
He swallows, voice hoarse. Whatever rebellion festered in their hearts has been quashed, and now all they do is worry about catching the man as he lumbers away from them towards an array of caps that they have toiled and bled for for over a decade.
"Those beneath you will be found wanting. Always. It is your duty to lead them as shepherds guiding the lost. Their lives will have been without meaning before your arrival whether it be a regiment raised from Death World, Terra itself, Cadia - it matters not. They need you. Believe in their own potential as much as you know of your own, and help them find their own glory."
He picks a cap up off the ancient bench, and it's easy to imagine him sitting down on it, a child, watching the tree grow that hovers above them all.
Smiling, he says, "And you'll need these caps for them to recognize you, commissars."
...
Hiya. The above text serves as a framing for the vibe I'm going for in a story centered around a commissar in this bleak, horrible galaxy humanity has found itself in. I'd like to find a GM interested in a story that encompasses elements of culture shock, exploring the cultures of regiments and worlds, warfare and politics, and the occasional slice of life that comes with campaigning.
Whilst I imagine the roleplay will properly open well after the text up above ends, possibly with the first introduction of our main character to the regiment they've been assigned to, I'd be happy to explore possibilities. I pride myself on flexibility and value the input of my partners above all else, adherence to canon included. WH40K is a vibe to me, not a book that needs to be strictly adhered to for enjoyment to be made possible. This RP can be GRIMDARK, but I'd also like for it to be other things too; beautiful, surreal, inspiring; it's a big galaxy, and that means we should get to see fantastic fauna, alien life, cool supernatural things happening...
Our MC can be a wide spectrum of sexualities and gender orientation and their backstory is on the cutting room floor for the time being, but I'm toying with the idea of them being a lone survivor of Exterminatus carried out on their world, afforded an extraordinary amount of leniency when their world was found wholly guilty of consorting with aliens. It's intended for them to be less of the hammy, sociopathic commissars stereotyped in Dawn of War and more of a genuinely inspiring, emotionally activated person who tries to build connections with the souls they're responsible for. I am a-okay with the RP being deeply critical of the Imperium of Man as an institutions; no 'necessary evil' shit here. The Imperium sucks and is horribly evil and unnecessary, but it's still really cool aesthetically.
I'm supportive of romantic entanglements and NSFW content. If you've seen my other posts you know I approach smut in the same way I approach everything else; very serious until it isn't. I value levity and comedy and think sex is inherently funny, so don't be surprised if the kinkiest scene in our RP has some knee-slappers in it to keep the mood upbeat.
