Andreyich

Retaking the Front (40k Astra Militarum Roleplay, Currently Full)

soon, forgot about this tbh

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

Short but hopefully y'all see it as sweet

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

There is no God, but the Emperor, and we are His Messenger

~ Testament of Chaplain ********* *** ******* of the **** *******

The words were in a tiny scrap of paper on the walls of Brother Karolai's tiny dormitory. The Apothecary was kneeling in Prayer, his chainaxe upon his lap. He had yet to properly serve with his Black Templar brothers after his time in the Deathwatch. It took him so long to adjust and at last be comfortable with service in the Deathwatch, and Klaus wondered if now he would face readjustment to his home Chapter to be just as difficult. The Apothecary knew he would do his duty regardless but he knew that it was so much simpler to do when he was as one with his comrades. He would go to duty in the squad Sibrand he was assigned to and he would do all demanded of him. The Marine merely wanted guidance as to how.

Blessed are the grand in spirit: for theirs is the Imperium eternal.
Blessed are those who mourn: for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek: for they will inherit the galaxy.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness; they will be gorged and sated.
Blessed are those who show no mercy, for they shall receive it from Him.
Blessed are the pure in heart: for they will see the Emperor.
Blessed are the warriors, for they will be called children of the God-Emperor.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness: they are by the Emperor's side.
Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you, when they and falsely utter evil against you on my account.
Rejoice and be glad, for your reward by the Emperor's side is great, for so they persecuted the Prophets and Warriors-

He was cut off as an Initiate entered the candle and incense Chapel where he was praying. The youngling hurried over to him and notified the Apothecary that his presence was needed. With a grunt he made the sign of the Aquila, lit a candle for a Brother lost and after letting the sweet smell drift to him for a few moments he opened his eyes. He would now be meeting most of the Brothers he would serve with for the first time. He needed to make a good impression. Carefully locking his helmet in place, the Chaplain sprinted across the ship with the super-human speed all Marines were known for towards the room where he was called to. When he arrived - now slowed to a calm and gracious walk - he entered the bridge with a bow of respect to the Chaplain and a nod to the others present. Klaus said nothing and instead simply took a position close to the door where he could lay eyes upon whoever else entered, and be ready to swiftly leave whenever the talking was done. For now he gazed at the Chaplain, meeting his blue gaze with the red-amber glow of his helmet's eyeslits.

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

@Jbcool to be one hundred percent sure i dont blunder anything we are this trusted few assembled?

With Machine Gun and Sword: The Age of Warlords

---

Ḵ̡͔͉͌̃ͪ́̈ͪ̎ñ̟̀̔̓͑͒́ě̮̰̗̭̺͖̜̄̎̃̀͡e͝ļ̫͚̲͙̤̼͖ ͖͆̂B͍̍ͮ͐̒ͪ̄e̜ͪ̓̾ͮ̽f̯ͣͣ̈́ͫ̃ͣ͟o̗̫̭̜̜̳͟r͎̤͎͍̈́͐͋̐̃ͭͩe̢̝͉̓̄̔͛̎̒̅ ̨̪͖̫͍̊T̷̖̳̞̝̻̤̒ͬ̈́h̳̳̻̎̊̑̂̀e̵ͬͧ ̤̣̘͖̼͍̐́̓K̩̺̹̤̮͒͊ͥ͗hä͙̞́͝ͅgͨͭ̆͜ä̜̩̤̜́͒ͤn̻ͩͩ̓̕

---

'Sergei Dmitrievich, I know we have to also destroy the butchery? I was hoping for a nice dinner under the stars!'

'Mikhail Nikitich, in the story we are to make the communists burn all the buildings down as a thing of the bourgeiousie.'

'Can we at least take calves?'

'No. Konstantin Feodorovich said the refugees from the town must starve, their foodstuffs burned along with their homes.'

'Oh very well. It is a difficult duty we face Sergei.'

'I understand. But such is necessary. Battlegroup Vaghner will be doing similar acts on the communist front.'

'I am aware. Let's get this over, we have to leave before the artillery crossfire begins, the sides will charge at each other. It will be quite humourous when they fall upon the bear-traps we left behind!'

'Very well, let us go. '

With that the two soldiers marched off. They were dressed in communist garb, the red star and every other marker about their person. They wore balaclavas or bandanas with goggles, and dyed what little of their skin was exposed to view to be coloured more akin to typical Mingans and Quin. Their task was a complex one, but they were Khiberian riflemen and prepared for any sort of task. Their collective job here was to set up a false flag attack upon the republicans and communists for either to think that they were betrayed. They had gotten south on the Brass Engines and now they were doing their work. At similar times various villages, military outposts, and ordinary people passing on roads would be assaulted, dozens of silent shots preceding louder volleys, and ideological screams be they communist towards the republicans, or capitalist towards the reds. To finalize the action, a series of rockets - crude things that were little more than fireworks that would probably inflict little to no casualties but effective for their purpose - would be deployed on the closest approximation the Khaganate knew for both parties control of ideology. The missiles would fly to either side, the direction obvious. Combined with reports of various raids and attacks from the soon to be enemies, they had little uncertainty that hostilities would begin. In the new ideological struggle they were fully aware that thousands, maybe millions would die....

....But why should they care?

So they burned the last village in their allotted time frame, and ran north. Just as they stealthily returned back to their side's lines they would hear the first rockets flying side to side, igniting the sparks of a new war....

---

In the North, the Khagan himself was going to lead, unlike the South-front where he delegated the task to Lord-Militant and Lord-Intellectual. Long had his army been marching, but neither horse nor man tired fed a constant supply of what Lord-Scientific called "Perkozine." Yet another thing conjured up in the mad-labs of Kuorno, it was hastily tested on captured enemy foreigners, who after showing satisfactory results were slowly run across a sawmill's spinning blade over the span of hours.

With him, the Bronzen horde marched to the enemy.

With Machine Gun and Sword: The Age of Warlords

The Great Khaganate

The Great Khaganate

---

---

Geography and people:

The city of Kuorno is founded by Belzarov Emigrants following the rise of the socialists to power. It was a normal town founded centuries ago by missionaries from Belzarov. As time went on businessmen and other men slowly migrated there, with a recent boom in arrivals. Clergy, scientists, officers, soldiers, clerks, nobles, and many, many more came due to fear of persecution by the socialist regime and build a new prosperous home in mimicry of that which they lost. That said, the industrialization of this little enclave That said, many converts or simple folk of the Empire in search of work have flocked here and have been more or less welcomed. The mountainous region is full of ores and has a decent population, and the power of the Khaganate from Kuorno has come to dominate much of province. Under the leadership of Lord Kuang Grigori Valikhanov, they have united as the Great Khaganate to make a considerable military-industrial force for the Royalists.

|Geographical Location of CLIQUE:|
The clique has influence across most of the Zhendao province, with their "capital" region and main territories at the north mountain ranges of the province.


|Cities:|
Kuorno - this is the greatest city of the Khaganate, it is populated mostly by people from Belsarov. It has great wealth of industry, resources and knowledge. It is a railroad hub connected to much of the rest of the country's railroads. In here the best minds from Belsarov live, having escaped their home knowing the evils its occupiers have in store for them.

Tangikuom - another city of the Khaganate in the North-East it's only considered urban because of how many people live in it. The truth is that Tangikuom is about ten or twelve villages in extreme proximity which is why it has so few factories, but also so little squalor and slum-life.

Zhuxuan - This is a city in the South-West born a few decades ago as a result of it being the intersection of various railroads. It is of great value to the Khaganate since when combined with Kuorno, it allows Khagan Grigori to send troops and reinforcements wherever he so desires at moments notice... provided it is connected by rail.

---

Your Warlord:

---

---

|Name:| Grigori Kvang Valikhanov
|Title:| Formerly Baron of Tartalu in Belsarov, now Great Khagan.
|Age:|47
|Ethnicity:| Mixed origins with a Mingan father and a mother from Belsarov.
|Personal Ideology: | Paternal National Populist Conservative Autocracy
|Influence in the faction: | He has considerable influence in his faction, particularly by the fact that purging him would be hundreds of times more costly than reluctantly keeping him around. Though his insanity and other traits make sure he never has the ear of the Imperial court itself, its advisors frequently discuss him and his ventures. About 1-6%
|Personality: | Grigori is quite literally a madman with dozens of mental conditions applicable to him. He believes he is a God-sent prophet here to destroy the forces of disorder, revolution, and chaos. Despite this insanity and craziness he is an expert strategist, administrator, accountant, manipulator and speaker allowing him to be an excellent warlord.
|Chastity:| Grigori has very few desires in life beyond seeing the enemy destroyed, living frugally and personally. In fact much of what is known about him is enigmatic rumour, making the jobs of assassins, deceitful diplomats, and other such personalities.
|Diligence:| The Khagan has perfect photographic memory, augmenting it with the method de loci in the few times it is not sufficient by itself. In addition he is very well capable of doing multiple tasks at once like speaking to a dignitary and plotting campaign attack plans at the same time.
|Wrath:| The Khagan is a brutal man, and will not rest until his enemies are exterminated, and this means there is little remorse even to potential assets that can be persuaded to defect. The worst of fates is by foreigners that his forces capture; many volunteers for the republicans, nationalists and communists find themselves living for an abysmally long week as they are slowly turned into a paste, experimented on, and paraded for all to see what joining the wrong side gets you.
|Pride:| The Khagan is quite full of pride and rarely willing to retreat from a position his forces hold. His opinion of himself and his side is far too high and when someone is incapable of accomplishing a task he set them out to do he will often take it as a personal insult and an offence worthy of execution.

|History and Background:|

There were two star-crossed lovers, Kuang Yarikou and Maria Stahlhardt. One from Zengrav, the other Belsarov, they were a strange but accepted couple save for the fact that nobility across borders would have issues with inheritance. However, at a young age his father died, assassinated by communist swine that injured the three year-old Grigori in the head. As he grew now in his mother's land, it seemed his intelligence had not diminished but his inter-personal and intrapersonal skills had. As the boy grew he frequently got into frequent fights with others boys and was repeatedly the victim of bullying at his prestigious schools, until he maimed his irritators. A slow spiral of mental health went to the boy as he became more and more reclusive, his doctors, mother, tutors, and Priest becoming the only real contacts he had well into his teens.

He emerged a strange, quiet young man to go into a military academy. There he excelled, surprisingly somewhat socially adequate now. He rose through the ranks of the military in his home, becoming famed for being a quick thinker remembering key facts and being able to command various posts at once.

However disaster struck, and the red plague appeared. At home he fought the red menace, gaining many injuries including another to his head in the time.

At last, he was forced to leave. He lead a great exodus of the Belsarov diaspora to the East, creating a new home. There in depression and anger he stewed, becoming a recluse once more save for the occasional act of sabotage or coercion to defect of prominent scientists or agents and commanders in now socialist Belzarov.

However, the chance for redemption came. Civil war broke out in Zengrav too. He emerged from his self imposed exile, and rallied the people of Kuorno. He swiftly assumed control and restored law and order to the riotous regions around his city. He created a small enclave, but just as the royal forces thought he was another part of the rebellion he pledged for them, declaring himself to be a Holy Khagan, a lord from the past sent to destroy the forces of revolution and chaos for the good of Zengrav and mankind. Now, he fights.....

---

|Armed Forces:|

The Khiberian Riflemen:

The Khiberian Riflemen are a regiment made up almost entirely of Belzarov men (admittedly a large portion born in Zengrav or the rest of the Belsarov diaspora). They have advanced often hand-crafted rifles and pistols each with a scope in addition to magnifying apparatuses within their gasmasked helms. They always have good reserves of foodstuffs, water, varied ammunition for both of their firearms, finely crafted blades, light but very protective armour that makes little to no noise. This force is excellent for guerilla warfare destroying forces several times large than them through a death of thousand papercuts.

The Uragan Mortars:

The Uragan bombards are a devastating contraption the design and schematics of which was brought over to Zengrav from Belsarov. The four-barrelled artillery piece comes in a variety of forms and calibres from mortars, to howitzers, to heavy guns, to anti-tank and anti-air cannons, each of which the Khagan has a division of. The core similarity between each model is that it has four barrels and each loaded by itself fired in succession. The effect is that each piece of artillery fires at a semi-automatic rate, whilst not losing accuracy or range. They are very heavy and hard to transport and are subsequently carried along by carts and horses. Though the NCO commanding each piece is from Belsarov or the diaspora, the crew is ultimately native. Particularly frightening is the variety of munitions used from air-bursting grapeshot, to firestorm shells, to simple explosive ones, to the strange, toxicly corrosive and asphyixiating gas shells so new to the land of Zengrav with no protection available to the backwater rebels.

Tashkas:

With the industry of Belsarov focused on producing small-arms and artillery, a substitute for the mainstay of mechanization in the army of the Khagan are the Tashkas. Pedigree horses drugged to the point of becoming monsters pull men either from Zengrav or Belsarov in metal carts who wield grenades and machine guns - or in some cases flamethrowers - to harass the enemy, provide support to infantry and carry supplies through the heat of battle.

The Brass Engine:

One of the more bombastic armaments of the Khagan, this is a looted train converted into becoming a nightmare of war. It has many armoured troops compartments, various artillery, HMG, and anti-air turrets, supply wagons, and a front plate that will smash through most barricades and even some rockslides made as an impediment.

Shtoika Hybrid planes:

These planes are a (for Zengrav) new high flying design sent over by a Belzarov defector, it takes a hybrid role between bomber and fighter being able to do both roles though neither not nearly as good as a dedicated fighter or bomber. However a good trademark of them is simultaneously powerful armour, and good fuel efficient speed if slight lack of maneuverability. The pilots are mostly ethnically from Belzarov, but like the Zengrav born ground troops of the Khaganate they are fed a considerable amount of drugs to give them a great edge in dog fights. Not to mention the effect on morale a rebel pilot will feel when a Khaganate pilot contacts them through radio screaming and giggling how he will bite out their spleen and lead a strafing run on their children.

The Bronze Hordes:

This is single largest and (arguably) cohesive of the Khagan's forces, the bread and butter so to speak. The lost and the damned, the dirty and disgraced, the greedy and the savage, the sadists and criminals, the refuse of societies. These men are dirty fighters with decent if not professional fighting experience. They often have crude, but multiple and powerful weapons often with no uniform set of equipment for each unit. What is lost by lack of professionalism is usually more than made up for by a gruesome balance of drugs turning each man into a monster not caring if artillery lops off their arm or if a shotgun blast was just delivered centre-mass. Quite often they will have horses that like them are filled with a variety of drugs to turn them into monsters of legend. They are a unit effective at all roles, the horde swallowing up tanks, fortifications, and enemy troops to come out better and stronger, or brutally defending positions to the death.

---

|Their finest hour:|

The position of the Khagan's forces was encircled. The communists were all around them and soon they would charge and annihilate them. In the trenches many prayed but the more cynical thought that little good it would do them. Perhaps they were right, the enemy had superior positions, more heavy weaponry and numbers ranging from twice to ten times as much as the Khagan did here. It seemed ironic that such a promising warlord would fail at only his third fight.

In the distance Grigori heard their chanting.

"Whirlwinds of danger are racing around us,

O'erwhelming forces of darkness assail!

Still in the fight see advancing before us,

Red flag of liberty that yet shall prevail!"

Angrily, he drew his sword and descended from what passed as a bunker in the backwater land of Zengrav. He went to the lower trenches, a few of his aides tagging along behind. It happened that he walked onto the scene of a nay-sayer, one of the local Mingans enlisted in the Khaganate forces. He was saying something about how it was inevitable the cray bastard of a warlord they had would get any of them out alive, but he didn't finish his sentence. All over his comrades his brains were splattered with only his lower jaw left in his head; Grigori calmly replaced the used round of his five-shot derringer and walked on as if he had not just taken a life.

He climbed up the dirt, and standing in front of the Khaganate and Zengrav flags drew his motorized szabla in addition to his pistol. Already his position for his speech was drawing attention and the incessant enemy artillery and machine-gun potshots redirected into his approximate location. No matter, bullets whistling overhead and into the flags or explosions behind him would only make his heroic appearance greater.

"Hear me, loyal soldiers. Over there the communists are. They writhe and wheeze in agony that their pathetic system already inflicts upon them. Their slimy hides want to inflict upon Zengrav the evils they inflicted upon my home of Belzarov! But I tell you it should not be. It was said to me by God, but the eternal truth, that we shall prevail. The communists are evil incarnated and they will try their best to annihilate all that is good in this world. They already try to do so in the lands they hold and now they want our deaths. But I ask fo you, will we simply let them kill us? Will we fail where others have not?"

Grigori gave a slam of his motor-blade on an emptied barrel for a loud din and then screamed.

"I ask of you, will we fall?"

"No!"

"I ask of you, shall we best the animals that want to end our lives, cultures, faiths, hopes, and dreams?"

"No!"

"What shall we do to them?"

At this point a chorus of uncoordinated responses came, and Grigori gave a primal roar before cutting the air with his sword. "Charge!"

The men who had them affixed bayonets, other grabbed at grenades or lead pipes or some nasty improvised weapons. Pistols were readied and swords drawn, clips loaded and safety locks disengaged. As one they ran at the red filth. Though few knew, the majority of the men had earlier consumed a solution of drugs that would make them angrier, fiercer, stronger, more reactive, while marching bands behind them kept pace and played pieces of heroism and glory to pump and boil blood. But in truth, such heroism was all in their hearts.

The enemy bombarded them, rifles and machine guns sent enough bullets to block out the sun but still they ran. A few tanks rolled forth and managed to get a volley forth to vaporize some men but quickly they were swarmed, prying men ripping off the top hatch, hopping in and slicing or bashing and chopping the treacherous communists within until they were naught more than a red paste. The Khaganate forces soon got to the enemy hill trenches, and the almost phalanx-like assembly of bayonets they prepared at such short notice was impressive. It didn't help them. The Grigori's men smashed into them like a shoe onto an errant spider. The defenders tried, but they were overwhelmed. One by one the red flag of the communists was replaced by the Khaganate tricolor. When the last red was dead, - executed while begging for his treasonous life - Grigori once more climbed the highest hill he could find. His ear was torn into something nasty and he had several holes in him where his armour failed. He didn't say anything, and he didn't need to. He simply raised his sword, and gave a triumphant scream that would echo across the lands.

---

|Their darkest hour:|

The forces of the Khaganate had done well to overwhelm the city of Xianjuo, but it was unsurprising. While the gold vaults and the gas tankers in it were valuable, the nationalists had not been able to get enough men there on time. They had a token force of at most two hundred, and most of it was holed up in the bank. Grigori had one of his best negotiators speaking to them, but so far to little avail. These men were the 'moderate' nationalists, the ones who had just so recently been with the monarchists. Their treachery made them deserve death but there were other considerations for the moment.

Grigori was now outside of the bank himself watching the exchange of the two sides. The nationalists were asking for... too much. Full amnesty and happy lives or free escape to wherever they liked. Neither of these was possible in their entirety and an impasse was at this point getting ever closer. The Whites were getting angry, and starting to throw insults. Storming the bank was the likely outcome and a simple one, but Grigori had his advisors insist on peaceful attempts first. They did well for publicity.

However the attempt was made and he nonchalantly drew his sword, expertly picking his teeth with a metre long weapon in anticipation. Reluctantly the negotiator conceded, since the nationalists inside stopped replying to his shouts and he gave his approval for the attack. Waving his hand for his trusted men to follow, Grigori went inside. While everyone prepared for a firefight there was none. In fact, the bank seemed mysteriously empty. "Come and play!" The Khagan shouted, giving a few experimental waves of his blade. He was very surprised when he happened upon the vault, which was wide open and more importantly empty. Not a single penny was left and he fell to his knees at the sight. Men joined him in looking and after realizing what they saw had very similar reactions.

Angry, the Khagan stood up. He began to storm out of the building but stopped when he saw two rather curious sights. One was a carpet of the bank moved aside to reveal a hatch to the sewers, which he was sure his men did not do. The other was that all the gas-lights were disturbed, many with wiring going towards them. A lot of wiring went to the central clock of the bank. Not quite realization, but teacher suspicion dawned. Giving a quick glance side to side, he yelled "Everyone out!" before himself sprinting out of the building. Most of his men followed, but a few confused ones remained. As the firestorm erupted they did not live to see their folly. Grigori laughed, his insanity permeating through the situation before he relaxed, and with a smile examined the scenario. He looked about and saw the gas lights on the street were also disturbed and burst out laughing, falling on the ground. Moments later the whole city was engulfed in flames.

By some miracle that served to reinforce his prophetic image the Khagan had survived. The charade had four of his tanks exploded and more than a thousand men incinerated, not to mention the industry if the city left in ruins and the gold vaults emptied. While this event would gain a small amount of popularity with commoners for him the Imperial court would be dissatisfied. Still, he was alive, and that was what mattered. It would appear that for these white bastard upstarts he would have to bring in the Uragaan mortars....

---

|Other Important People inside the Clique:|

Ivan Nikiferovich - Lord-Scientific of the Khaganate, he is the one responsible for constantly improving and designing the drugs, chemical weapons, torture devices, and other technical edges of the Khagan's dominion.

Serje Prokhorov - Lord-Militant of Belzarov, he is a disgraced general from the old country who despite an excellent track record of war was blamed for the loss of a battle where a turncoat Colonel opened fire with artillery from a flank. Grigori however witnessed his talent and decided to take him in and let him be a key leader in the military of the Khaganate.

Zhu Xenrang - Lord-Intellectual, he is responsible for the quite impressive array of spies that the Khaganate has. However, more useful is the large array of radio specialists and code breakers allowing the Khaganate to intercept and replace enemy communication while defending their own.

---

With Machine Gun and Sword: The Age of Warlords

@Elgappa

The Great Khaganate

The Great Khaganate

---

---

Geography and people:

The city of Kuorno is founded by Belzarov Emigrants following the rise of the socialists to power. It was a normal town founded centuries ago by missionaries from Belzarov. As time went on businessmen and other men slowly migrated there, with a recent boom in arrivals. Clergy, scientists, officers, soldiers, clerks, nobles, and many, many more came due to fear of persecution by the socialist regime and build a new prosperous home in mimicry of that which they lost. That said, the industrialization of this little enclave That said, many converts or simple folk of the Empire in search of work have flocked here and have been more or less welcomed. The mountainous region is full of ores and has a decent population, and the power of the Khaganate from Kuorno has come to dominate much of province. Under the leadership of Lord Kuang Grigori Valikhanov, they have united as the Great Khaganate to make a considerable military-industrial force for the Royalists.

|Geographical Location of CLIQUE:|
The clique has influence across most of the Zhendao province, with their "capital" region and main territories at the north mountain ranges of the province.


|Cities:|
Kuorno - this is the greatest city of the Khaganate, it is populated mostly by people from Belsarov. It has great wealth of industry, resources and knowledge. It is a railroad hub connected to much of the rest of the country's railroads. In here the best minds from Belsarov live, having escaped their home knowing the evils its occupiers have in store for them.

Tangikuom - another city of the Khaganate in the North-East it's only considered urban because of how many people live in it. The truth is that Tangikuom is about ten or twelve villages in extreme proximity which is why it has so few factories, but also so little squalor and slum-life.

Zhuxuan - This is a city in the South-West born a few decades ago as a result of it being the intersection of various railroads. It is of great value to the Khaganate since when combined with Kuorno, it allows Khagan Grigori to send troops and reinforcements wherever he so desires at moments notice... provided it is connected by rail.

---

Your Warlord:

---

---

|Name:| Grigori Kvang Valikhanov
|Title:| Formerly Baron of Tartalu in Belsarov, now Great Khagan.
|Age:|47
|Ethnicity:| Mixed origins with a Mingan father and a mother from Belsarov.
|Personal Ideology: | Paternal National Populist Conservative Autocracy
|Influence in the faction: | He has considerable influence in his faction, particularly by the fact that purging him would be hundreds of times more costly than reluctantly keeping him around. Though his insanity and other traits make sure he never has the ear of the Imperial court itself, its advisors frequently discuss him and his ventures. About 1-6%
|Personality: | Grigori is quite literally a madman with dozens of mental conditions applicable to him. He believes he is a God-sent prophet here to destroy the forces of disorder, revolution, and chaos. Despite this insanity and craziness he is an expert strategist, administrator, accountant, manipulator and speaker allowing him to be an excellent warlord.
|Chastity:| Grigori has very few desires in life beyond seeing the enemy destroyed, living frugally and personally. In fact much of what is known about him is enigmatic rumour, making the jobs of assassins, deceitful diplomats, and other such personalities.
|Diligence:| The Khagan has perfect photographic memory, augmenting it with the method de loci in the few times it is not sufficient by itself. In addition he is very well capable of doing multiple tasks at once like speaking to a dignitary and plotting campaign attack plans at the same time.
|Wrath:| The Khagan is a brutal man, and will not rest until his enemies are exterminated, and this means there is little remorse even to potential assets that can be persuaded to defect. The worst of fates is by foreigners that his forces capture; many volunteers for the republicans, nationalists and communists find themselves living for an abysmally long week as they are slowly turned into a paste, experimented on, and paraded for all to see what joining the wrong side gets you.
|Pride:| The Khagan is quite full of pride and rarely willing to retreat from a position his forces hold. His opinion of himself and his side is far too high and when someone is incapable of accomplishing a task he set them out to do he will often take it as a personal insult and an offence worthy of execution.

|History and Background:|

There were two star-crossed lovers, Kuang Yarikou and Maria Stahlhardt. One from Zengrav, the other Belsarov, they were a strange but accepted couple save for the fact that nobility across borders would have issues with inheritance. However, at a young age his father died, assassinated by communist swine that injured the three year-old Grigori in the head. As he grew now in his mother's land, it seemed his intelligence had not diminished but his inter-personal and intrapersonal skills had. As the boy grew he frequently got into frequent fights with others boys and was repeatedly the victim of bullying at his prestigious schools, until he maimed his irritators. A slow spiral of mental health went to the boy as he became more and more reclusive, his doctors, mother, tutors, and Priest becoming the only real contacts he had well into his teens.

He emerged a strange, quiet young man to go into a military academy. There he excelled, surprisingly somewhat socially adequate now. He rose through the ranks of the military in his home, becoming famed for being a quick thinker remembering key facts and being able to command various posts at once.

However disaster struck, and the red plague appeared. At home he fought the red menace, gaining many injuries including another to his head in the time.

At last, he was forced to leave. He lead a great exodus of the Belsarov diaspora to the East, creating a new home. There in depression and anger he stewed, becoming a recluse once more save for the occasional act of sabotage or coercion to defect of prominent scientists or agents and commanders in now socialist Belzarov.

However, the chance for redemption came. Civil war broke out in Zengrav too. He emerged from his self imposed exile, and rallied the people of Kuorno. He swiftly assumed control and restored law and order to the riotous regions around his city. He created a small enclave, but just as the royal forces thought he was another part of the rebellion he pledged for them, declaring himself to be a Holy Khagan, a lord from the past sent to destroy the forces of revolution and chaos for the good of Zengrav and mankind. Now, he fights.....

---

|Armed Forces:|

The Khiberian Riflemen:

The Khiberian Riflemen are a regiment made up almost entirely of Belzarov men (admittedly a large portion born in Zengrav or the rest of the Belsarov diaspora). They have advanced often hand-crafted rifles and pistols each with a scope in addition to magnifying apparatuses within their gasmasked helms. They always have good reserves of foodstuffs, water, varied ammunition for both of their firearms, finely crafted blades, light but very protective armour that makes little to no noise. This force is excellent for guerilla warfare destroying forces several times large than them through a death of thousand papercuts.

The Uragan Mortars:

The Uragan bombards are a devastating contraption the design and schematics of which was brought over to Zengrav from Belsarov. The four-barrelled artillery piece comes in a variety of forms and calibres from mortars, to howitzers, to heavy guns, to anti-tank and anti-air cannons, each of which the Khagan has a division of. The core similarity between each model is that it has four barrels and each loaded by itself fired in succession. The effect is that each piece of artillery fires at a semi-automatic rate, whilst not losing accuracy or range. They are very heavy and hard to transport and are subsequently carried along by carts and horses. Though the NCO commanding each piece is from Belsarov or the diaspora, the crew is ultimately native. Particularly frightening is the variety of munitions used from air-bursting grapeshot, to firestorm shells, to simple explosive ones, to the strange, toxicly corrosive and asphyixiating gas shells so new to the land of Zengrav with no protection available to the backwater rebels.

Tashkas:

With the industry of Belsarov focused on producing small-arms and artillery, a substitute for the mainstay of mechanization in the army of the Khagan are the Tashkas. Pedigree horses drugged to the point of becoming monsters pull men either from Zengrav or Belsarov in metal carts who wield grenades and machine guns - or in some cases flamethrowers - to harass the enemy, provide support to infantry and carry supplies through the heat of battle.

The Brass Engine:

One of the more bombastic armaments of the Khagan, this is a looted train converted into becoming a nightmare of war. It has many armoured troops compartments, various artillery, HMG, and anti-air turrets, supply wagons, and a front plate that will smash through most barricades and even some rockslides made as an impediment.

Shtoika Hybrid planes:

These planes are a (for Zengrav) new high flying design sent over by a Belzarov defector, it takes a hybrid role between bomber and fighter being able to do both roles though neither not nearly as good as a dedicated fighter or bomber. However a good trademark of them is simultaneously powerful armour, and good fuel efficient speed if slight lack of maneuverability. The pilots are mostly ethnically from Belzarov, but like the Zengrav born ground troops of the Khaganate they are fed a considerable amount of drugs to give them a great edge in dog fights. Not to mention the effect on morale a rebel pilot will feel when a Khaganate pilot contacts them through radio screaming and giggling how he will bite out their spleen and lead a strafing run on their children.

The Bronze Hordes:

This is single largest and (arguably) cohesive of the Khagan's forces, the bread and butter so to speak. The lost and the damned, the dirty and disgraced, the greedy and the savage, the sadists and criminals, the refuse of societies. These men are dirty fighters with decent if not professional fighting experience. They often have crude, but multiple and powerful weapons often with no uniform set of equipment for each unit. What is lost by lack of professionalism is usually more than made up for by a gruesome balance of drugs turning each man into a monster not caring if artillery lops off their arm or if a shotgun blast was just delivered centre-mass. Quite often they will have horses that like them are filled with a variety of drugs to turn them into monsters of legend. They are a unit effective at all roles, the horde swallowing up tanks, fortifications, and enemy troops to come out better and stronger, or brutally defending positions to the death.

---

|Their finest hour:|

The position of the Khagan's forces was encircled. The communists were all around them and soon they would charge and annihilate them. In the trenches many prayed but the more cynical thought that little good it would do them. Perhaps they were right, the enemy had superior positions, more heavy weaponry and numbers ranging from twice to ten times as much as the Khagan did here. It seemed ironic that such a promising warlord would fail at only his third fight.

In the distance Grigori heard their chanting.

"Whirlwinds of danger are racing around us,

O'erwhelming forces of darkness assail!

Still in the fight see advancing before us,

Red flag of liberty that yet shall prevail!"

Angrily, he drew his sword and descended from what passed as a bunker in the backwater land of Zengrav. He went to the lower trenches, a few of his aides tagging along behind. It happened that he walked onto the scene of a nay-sayer, one of the local Mingans enlisted in the Khaganate forces. He was saying something about how it was inevitable the cray bastard of a warlord they had would get any of them out alive, but he didn't finish his sentence. All over his comrades his brains were splattered with only his lower jaw left in his head; Grigori calmly replaced the used round of his five-shot derringer and walked on as if he had not just taken a life.

He climbed up the dirt, and standing in front of the Khaganate and Zengrav flags drew his motorized szabla in addition to his pistol. Already his position for his speech was drawing attention and the incessant enemy artillery and machine-gun potshots redirected into his approximate location. No matter, bullets whistling overhead and into the flags or explosions behind him would only make his heroic appearance greater.

"Hear me, loyal soldiers. Over there the communists are. They writhe and wheeze in agony that their pathetic system already inflicts upon them. Their slimy hides want to inflict upon Zengrav the evils they inflicted upon my home of Belzarov! But I tell you it should not be. It was said to me by God, but the eternal truth, that we shall prevail. The communists are evil incarnated and they will try their best to annihilate all that is good in this world. They already try to do so in the lands they hold and now they want our deaths. But I ask fo you, will we simply let them kill us? Will we fail where others have not?"

Grigori gave a slam of his motor-blade on an emptied barrel for a loud din and then screamed.

"I ask of you, will we fall?"

"No!"

"I ask of you, shall we best the animals that want to end our lives, cultures, faiths, hopes, and dreams?"

"No!"

"What shall we do to them?"

At this point a chorus of uncoordinated responses came, and Grigori gave a primal roar before cutting the air with his sword. "Charge!"

The men who had them affixed bayonets, other grabbed at grenades or lead pipes or some nasty improvised weapons. Pistols were readied and swords drawn, clips loaded and safety locks disengaged. As one they ran at the red filth. Though few knew, the majority of the men had earlier consumed a solution of drugs that would make them angrier, fiercer, stronger, more reactive, while marching bands behind them kept pace and played pieces of heroism and glory to pump and boil blood. But in truth, such heroism was all in their hearts.

The enemy bombarded them, rifles and machine guns sent enough bullets to block out the sun but still they ran. A few tanks rolled forth and managed to get a volley forth to vaporize some men but quickly they were swarmed, prying men ripping off the top hatch, hopping in and slicing or bashing and chopping the treacherous communists within until they were naught more than a red paste. The Khaganate forces soon got to the enemy hill trenches, and the almost phalanx-like assembly of bayonets they prepared at such short notice was impressive. It didn't help them. The Grigori's men smashed into them like a shoe onto an errant spider. The defenders tried, but they were overwhelmed. One by one the red flag of the communists was replaced by the Khaganate tricolor. When the last red was dead, - executed while begging for his treasonous life - Grigori once more climbed the highest hill he could find. His ear was torn into something nasty and he had several holes in him where his armour failed. He didn't say anything, and he didn't need to. He simply raised his sword, and gave a triumphant scream that would echo across the lands.

---

|Their darkest hour:|

The forces of the Khaganate had done well to overwhelm the city of Xianjuo, but it was unsurprising. While the gold vaults and the gas tankers in it were valuable, the nationalists had not been able to get enough men there on time. They had a token force of at most two hundred, and most of it was holed up in the bank. Grigori had one of his best negotiators speaking to them, but so far to little avail. These men were the 'moderate' nationalists, the ones who had just so recently been with the monarchists. Their treachery made them deserve death but there were other considerations for the moment.

Grigori was now outside of the bank himself watching the exchange of the two sides. The nationalists were asking for... too much. Full amnesty and happy lives or free escape to wherever they liked. Neither of these was possible in their entirety and an impasse was at this point getting ever closer. The Whites were getting angry, and starting to throw insults. Storming the bank was the likely outcome and a simple one, but Grigori had his advisors insist on peaceful attempts first. They did well for publicity.

However the attempt was made and he nonchalantly drew his sword, expertly picking his teeth with a metre long weapon in anticipation. Reluctantly the negotiator conceded, since the nationalists inside stopped replying to his shouts and he gave his approval for the attack. Waving his hand for his trusted men to follow, Grigori went inside. While everyone prepared for a firefight there was none. In fact, the bank seemed mysteriously empty. "Come and play!" The Khagan shouted, giving a few experimental waves of his blade. He was very surprised when he happened upon the vault, which was wide open and more importantly empty. Not a single penny was left and he fell to his knees at the sight. Men joined him in looking and after realizing what they saw had very similar reactions.

Angry, the Khagan stood up. He began to storm out of the building but stopped when he saw two rather curious sights. One was a carpet of the bank moved aside to reveal a hatch to the sewers, which he was sure his men did not do. The other was that all the gas-lights were disturbed, many with wiring going towards them. A lot of wiring went to the central clock of the bank. Not quite realization, but teacher suspicion dawned. Giving a quick glance side to side, he yelled "Everyone out!" before himself sprinting out of the building. Most of his men followed, but a few confused ones remained. As the firestorm erupted they did not live to see their folly. Grigori laughed, his insanity permeating through the situation before he relaxed, and with a smile examined the scenario. He looked about and saw the gas lights on the street were also disturbed and burst out laughing, falling on the ground. Moments later the whole city was engulfed in flames.

By some miracle that served to reinforce his prophetic image the Khagan had survived. The charade had four of his tanks exploded and more than a thousand men incinerated, not to mention the industry if the city left in ruins and the gold vaults emptied. While this event would gain a small amount of popularity with commoners for him the Imperial court would be dissatisfied. Still, he was alive, and that was what mattered. It would appear that for these white bastard upstarts he would have to bring in the Uragaan mortars....

---

|Other Important People inside the Clique:|

Ivan Nikiferovich - Lord-Scientific of the Khaganate, he is the one responsible for constantly improving and designing the drugs, chemical weapons, torture devices, and other technical edges of the Khagan's dominion.

Serje Prokhorov - Lord-Militant of Belzarov, he is a disgraced general from the old country who despite an excellent track record of war was blamed for the loss of a battle where a turncoat Colonel opened fire with artillery from a flank. Grigori however witnessed his talent and decided to take him in and let him be a key leader in the military of the Khaganate.

Zhu Xenrang - Lord-Intellectual, he is responsible for the quite impressive array of spies that the Khaganate has. However, more useful is the large array of radio specialists and code breakers allowing the Khaganate to intercept and replace enemy communication while defending their own.

---

bonus points if you can figure out the 5 people my warlord is based off of

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

Apothecary

Name: Klaus Karolai

Personal Demeanour: It is said that the Black Templars inherited Dorn's fury. From Klaus Karolai this would not be clear, or at least initially. He is a generally calm soul praying throughout the entirety of his existence, rarely stopping even when in sleep, combat, or dialogue. He does however have an internalized hatred for anything going against Emperor and Imperium, a hatred that he knows will often interfere with his duty as an apothecary and if clouding his judgement may mean he will fail to recover the geneseed that all Marines are born again from. However, when pressed, when cornered, when left no choice he unleashes it in an overwhelming fury that the Blood Angels with their Black Rage or even the War Hounds of old would struggle to match.

Rank/Position: Apothecary

Power Armour History: The power armour upon Klaus has little history to it. The Errant cuirass upon him was the first suit of armour he ever had that was the result of his mentor's honour upon him when he was no longer a Neophyte and a true Astartes. The rest is quite ordinary Mk.7 armour, most of it replaced as one part or another received battle damage. The only part with true history is the shoulder pad bearing the proof of his honour-service in the Deathwatch.

Description: Klaus is of moderate height for a Marine at 8'2, while his build though still great for a mortal is slightly lankier than that of his Astartes Brothers. He has pale skin, black hair that is buzzed but thick and straight, aquiline features with prominent cheeks and dark brown eyes that could make the uneducated mistake him for a Son of Corax. His armour is rather ordinary with a Mk.8 breastplate, a reductor helm and all else Mk.7 including the shoulder pad indicating his service with the Deathwatch.

Skills: Klaus is an excellent medic which is precisely why he was chosen for this role. However like all Black Templars he is also an excellent duelist, making particularly good use of his narthecium and ranged sidearm in close combat and often picking up random objects strewn across the battlefield to act as a second weapon.

History:
Klaus was a child born to a noble - or rather formerly noble - family in the Jericho reach region of space. His family came from a world known as Julheim in which they were close to the planetary governor himself. However they had to leave it after an attack by the monstrous Khrave xeno form, and resettled upon the world of Wernmar which just so happened to be a recruiting world of the Black Templars.

Months had passed, when terrible news had struck. The Khrave decided to pursue the refugees from Julheim in their monstrous sadism, and so they attacked the world of Wernmar.

The story of Klaus truly begins here for he was returning home from the medical education his now impoverished but still connected parents could get him, when the Web-ships arrived. The things descended horribly, not bothering to wait for the battle to be over before they started to eat the humans residing on the planet. The things crashed, and as an able bodied teen the boy was given a laspistol and a chirurgeon's kit once his education was discovered.

The PDF and Militia stood bravely but poorly with thousands dying in the first hour of the fighting. Klaus helped those he knew how and gave the Emperor's mercy to those who he did not. He fought covering his position with his laspistol and the lasguns of the dead around him.

Reprieve came however, when great strike cruisers arrived in orbit, and moments later opened fire to obliterate most of the web-ships in the first minutes of fire. Then the Black Templars descended. The people of Wernmar knew then why the Astartes were known as the Angels of Death. They ran to slice the xenos apart, in the whole of the battle not losing a single brother. Their arrival to the scene of Klaus was quite appreciated, for now the Khrave were in melee and he was fighting in close combat with a sharpened rebar.

When the fighting was over, the Black Templars instantly went for the reason of their arrival; a tithe of recruits. Resting and mending Klaus was quite surprised when a black giant picked him up and lead him to a procession of boys. Confused, realization slowly dawned as he saw his tearful father in a crowd of onlookers being restrained by a human armsman or serf in colours of the Templars.

Dispassionately he was lead on board the ship, given new clothing and small cramped quarters. He was to go through the trials needed to become a Black Templar. Klaus was at the very edge of the possible age that one was typically receptive to gene seed implants which gave him an edge in the initial trials, but it meant he faced much suffering when given even the first implants. Still, with naught left to lose he placed all his efforts into his training and fighting. He progressed quite well if slowly as an initiate, taking time to recuperate after each implant of the gene seed.

When he became full Astartes his path was quite naturally set from his aptitude as a child; he would be an apothecary. The role was taken honourably and with no reluctance. Even if Klaus would not get the honours that Chaplains or Emperor's Champions would receive, he played a key role in the Chapter functions.

Over time Klaus saw many battlefields and had to minister to many Brothers as they coughed out there last breaths before he took their gene-seed and went on. He saw the fearsome tyranids, the lying Tau, the brutal Orks. But naught stood in the face of righteous fury. It was a few centuries later that he was called forth to speak with his Chaplain. His counterpart asked of him if he was willing to take a rare and great honour. He asked him to serve in the Deathwatch.

Klaus was quite skeptical, not enjoying his time with Marines of other Chapters from his admittedly limited experience. But rationally he considered that such was only a failure to correct, one which would be easily overcome by serving the Deathwatch. So even if reluctantly, he accepted his new station.

The service went better than he imagined. Klaus was able to empathize with many of his brothers and by speaking to a Librarian, one of the Red Hunters and subsequently also a Believer in the Emperor as God he was able to overcome his prejudice towards the psychic. Yet he also quarrelled with an Omega Marine, a son of Gulliman who was quite insistent in the Emperor's nature as not only a non-divine person but an anti-theist, constantly flaunted the supposed superiority of his gene-line, and insisted on the Codex Astartes for all actions. The two quite naturally grew cold and even bitter over time.

Yet faithfully the two served until more than a century later a space hulk emerged which fell upon the Deathwatch to clear. The Brothers were sent and went about their duty as normal. Genestealers were the mainstay of the ship but rogue servitors were aplenty too. Over the thunderhawk flight the Templar and the Omega Marine had more bickering, the Omega Marine seeming boastful to his counterpart. This came to have horrible ramifications. As the party had to split up into smaller and smaller groups it came to be that the Omega repeatedly stated that he was facing difficulty in his sector. Though the nearest, Klaus had his own issues and thought this would be a good lesson in humility to the son of Gulliman.

Yet, less and less the brother reported on the Vox, until his communication stopped. Hours later they found him dismembered and filled with autogun holes. Knowing what had transpired, it was left unsaid that for his arrogance and almost human emotion, Klaus was no longer welcome. So, disgraced if not quite dishonored he returned to the Chapter. They knew not why exactly he had left and was celebrated and lauded for giving a great display of the Chapter to the other Marines and a history of successes known across much of the Galaxy.

Now to another service he went. His ship entered the warp for but half an hour before he could be acquainted with his new brothers and now he will return to face a world quite different....

Equipment and Armament:

As armament he carries a plasma pistol and a chainaxe, in addition to two krak and frag grenades. To add to that he carries much of the gear natural to an Apothecary like a Narthecium.

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

@Ollumhammersong@Jbcool So I was thinking breastplate Mk.8, Reductor/Apothecary helm, and everything else Mk.7.

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

@Ollumhammersong@Jbcool
Another question, how long has our ship been in the warp? Specifically if this was before of after the invention of MK.8 armour but the more specific the better.