Andreyich

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

Sorry 'tis so short, couldn't think of much more since I am not sure if I was allowed to pick a gat yet.

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

"My sincere-" began Kurt with an exaggerated bow upon being chastised by the other Ultramarine, until he saw that the harbinger was making a retort. He straightened out, putting the apology he was about to make into the depths of his head and sticking out his chin with his eyebrows creasing. What a piece of grox excrement he thought, running his tongue along his teeth. He'd have to exercise caution around this one too, just another nuisance that was clearly below him. So far he had a clear pecking order established in his head: himself, Brother Cylaris, most Astartes and humans aboard, then the Blood Angels and successors, the dirt and grime, and finally the Harbinger.

He walked quietly alongside Brother Cylaris, hands folded behind his back. "Do you know when we will see action? Not to speak ill of your supervision, but I desire some independence." Kurt stated, rubbing his hands idly. "And if I am not asking out of line, is the armoury prepared for a Scout Marine? Most tend to cater to more traditionally equipped Astartes. If not, I shan't complain. While simple, the bolter and it's pistol variant is also exceptionally effective if used properly." he said, selling himself off as humble yet inquiring because he actually wasn't.

Treasure Hunters - A Warhammer Fantasy Adventure

I'm up for it, got work now though, and it works poorly on my phone.

Faces in the Moonlight: Trust Games and Shadow Wars, An Occult Action Thriller

Yeah I'll try to do shit right about now.

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

I'll post up, soon(TM of course)

Treasure Hunters - A Warhammer Fantasy Adventure

"Just be careful, don't be a wazzock." the old Dwarf grumbled, waving a hand dismissively. "I suppose you're doing well for the 'heroing' stuff, you should be proud umgi." He said, and then cracked his back arthritically. "My turn, friends!" he exclaimed and went for the biggest Norseman there was.

He clicked his tongue at him and flipped his hammer in the air, catching it to have the pick side facing the northerner. He didn't stand around to "take the charge," instead charging the man himself. He ran and swung his weapon with both hands in left-to-right strike aiming to get the pick into the Norseman's ribs while also having it in a good position to parry the inevitably downwards strikes. He caught the axe-blade just between his right hands index and middle finger, the Dawi steel not giving way. He pushed back, the strength of a Longbeard coming in handy and then followed it with the swiftness and resilience of a ranger and any Dwarf respectively; he headbutted the man right in the groin, and then used his hammer as a hook to pull the man down by his leg. Now on his arse, the final act of turning the man's head into a red mush was quickly done, and all the ichor was wiped off upon a fur pouch on the man's thigh.

The pseudo-longbeard waddled over to another scene of fighting, tugging at two of his throwing axes and throwing them simultaneously into the back of one of the enemies, and pulled them out to deliver strikes to the guts of his two comrades who only now were turning to face Brokk. "'n' stay down!" he shouted, cheerfully nodding to the comrades before him. He went under the cover of one of the torn sails, more or less preventing water from going down the barrel of the Thrund he was reloading. Just as he was almost finished another one of the Norscans had spotted the "helpless" ranger and approached him with a grin praising the brotherhood of four for the opportunity. Brokk groaned, swallowing up his marksman's pride and stopped reloading to raise his rifle and subsequently strike the coming great-axe from the right. His weapon was lighter so he could quickly recover and smack the man upon the head and flip his gun over to stab him in the eye with the metal barrel. As he wrenched it out he gave a little sigh of annoyance as the man's eye got stuck in the muzzle. That would take a lot of cleaning to deal with. Thus he returned to the melee, hammering left and right, throwing axes, unifying the trinity of a Ranger's dexterity, a Dwarf's tenacity and a Longbeard's rowdiness.

---

When it was all over, he leaned on the mast using his grund as a sort of cane as he caught his breath. "That," he began, getting interrupted by a pant, "was nice." he said, slouching down. Tugging at his rifle he closed his eyes before firing out the eyeball, groaning as the white and red matter flew all over, a horrid smell of scorched eye spreading. He pulled out his cleaning kit and got to work, somewhat angry. "Right, tell me when we're in Lustria, don't want to miss it I don't!" he said, trying to sound cheery despite no longer being happy.

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

So sorry guys but there's an amber alert AND an icestorm so I'll have to delay responses a few days.

𝕯𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕯𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖇𝖆𝖌𝖘

@DeadBeatWalkingsheeeeit I want in

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

Horacio was quite naturally pleased about the position he was in, he would be aiding a person of one of the greatest ranks in the Imperium: an Inquisitor. The fact that he was put together with the Sisters of Battle he was previously assigned with was quite the bonus too. As he walked along he used his Blackhammer shotgun as a staff (by holding it at the stock) whilst his other hand was occupied with stroking his sideburn(s). As far as he concerned those around him were the youngits, they weren't quite as faithful as the Canonesses and such that he preferred dealing with, but alas nothing was perfect. Their faith might not be as incandescent as the fire of a burning heretic, but close enough. When he had finally waddled over to the Inquisitor for inspection he took an arthritic pause, saving best for last of course. He pulled up his belt to cover bits of his gut that his carapace chest-piece could not.

To be frank, he was not aware of the names of his comrades, preferring to call them all daughter, so in his mental assessments he usually referred to each as "the shor'un" or "the one what's bloody well louder'n me." He only now realise he looked quite out of place with the Sororitas, his robes being mostly a nearly white grey, with his carapace armour unpainted. Still, being able to distinguish the man who holds the key to one's faith is not always a bad thing. Of course, there were other ways to distinguish Confessor Mazzini, but most of them assumed that he was not wearing some sort of respirator for a world's industrial fumes or otherwise un-breathable air. He cracked his knuckles and then let his chin rest on the stock of his shotgun, propped up by his hands. The sound "Hmmm?" came from him as he straightened out, his back letting out a crack as loud as the grenade of the similar name. "Confessor Horacio Mazzini, at your service Lord." he announced, bowing.

He gave the Inquisitor a calculating stare, wondering what kind he was. He heard some of the more "radical" ones were not like the radicals of the Eclessiarchy, instead preferring unorthodox means of accomplishing their goal. He hoped this was not one of them, although he knew he would have to keep quiet. Still, it would be awfully unsettling and it could make their relationship strained at best....

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

I'll be posting soon too.