Andreyich

Mon Dieu, Mon Seigneur, Mon Imperateur; Tout pour vous! - A Warhammer 40K Guard RP [High Casual/Low Advanced 3-6 Players]

@Banzai Tracers
I'd really rather regiments 1/2 since Auxilia aren't legit guardsmen

Mon Dieu, Mon Seigneur, Mon Imperateur; Tout pour vous! - A Warhammer 40K Guard RP [High Casual/Low Advanced 3-6 Players]

I'll try to get an OOC up for early next week, since I have 3+ people interested

Mon Dieu, Mon Seigneur, Mon Imperateur; Tout pour vous! - A Warhammer 40K Guard RP [High Casual/Low Advanced 3-6 Players]

Hello there, I’m the GM for this RP, Andreyich. This interest check if for an RP set in the Warhammer 40,000 universe. The focus is on the Imperial Guard, specifically the leadership of regiments - you. In this RP you will be playing as the leader of a Regiment from a planet, having to coordinate with fellow commanders various attacks and defences, famous last stands or glorious charges. You will at times sit comfortably in an orbital command, whilst at others be right in the trenches with only metres of your own men separating you from madmen hoping to pull out your tonsils with their tongue.

Any sort of Regiment will be allowed, be you outriders, super-heavy tanks, flyers, mechanized or motorized infantry, support artillery, scouts, Tempestus Scions, drop troops; the list goes on! I will however insist quite heavily that your regiment be as homebrew as possible, with your own planet, recruiting tradition, arms and tactics, etc. If you do want to use a canon regiment, the sheet will have to be phenomenal, with a long list of battlefield experiences and fleshing out, preferably with some quirks that the regiments of choice don’t typically see (as an example, make your Mordian Regiment consist of outriders - a great rarity for the hive peoples of Mordia).

Beyond that, I am a rather persistent GM that will not give up on this, I will provide you with pictures, music, detailed descriptions, an experience to remember! You will travel the galaxy, see (if not quite meet) famous figures, fight extraordinary foes, have talks of your homeworlds in the officers’ lounge, whatever tickles our fancies!

Mon Dieu, Mon Seigneur, Mon Imperateur; Tout pour vous! - A Warhammer 40K Guard RP [High Casual/Low Advanced 3-6 Players]

Hello there, I’m the GM for this RP, Andreyich. This interest check if for an RP set in the Warhammer 40,000 universe. The focus is on the Imperial Guard, specifically the leadership of regiments - you. In this RP you will be playing as the leader of a Regiment from a planet, having to coordinate with fellow commanders various attacks and defences, famous last stands or glorious charges. You will at times sit comfortably in an orbital command, whilst at others be right in the trenches with only metres of your own men separating you from madmen hoping to pull out your tonsils with their tongue.

Any sort of Regiment will be allowed, be you outriders, super-heavy tanks, flyers, mechanized or motorized infantry, support artillery, scouts, Tempestus Scions, drop troops; the list goes on! I will however insist quite heavily that your regiment be as homebrew as possible, with your own planet, recruiting tradition, arms and tactics, etc. If you do want to use a canon regiment, the sheet will have to be phenomenal, with a long list of battlefield experiences and fleshing out, preferably with some quirks that the regiments of choice don’t typically see (as an example, make your Mordian Regiment consist of outriders - a great rarity for the hive peoples of Mordia).

Beyond that, I am a rather persistent GM that will not give up on this, I will provide you with pictures, music, detailed descriptions, an experience to remember! You will travel the galaxy, see (if not quite meet) famous figures, fight extraordinary foes, have talks of your homeworlds in the officers’ lounge, whatever tickles our fancies!

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

The Apothecary walked along with his Brothers, already smelling the foul heresy present. Again and again the serpent of the rage within him wanted to lash out, to destroy the enemy, to hurt that which blights the realm of the God-Emperor of mankind. Klaus imagined the all the ways he would bring destruction to the enemy, all the artful parries and feints and punches and ripostes and simple angry charges. So busy in his imagination he was that he only had a momentary notice when human firearms were let loose upon the Templars. He ducked under a slug going for his throat and side-stepped a flechette burst, before taking cover near some of his Brethren.

He returned fire quite promptly, lowering his chainaxe to the ground and taking a two-handed grip on his plasma pistol. One shot, two, three. Each was aimed with perfection, blue balls of death turning men's torsos into puddles of charred ichor with limbs and head flopping uselessly to the sides. Shots four and five were aimed at a particularly nasty hyper-muscled mutant, before the Apothecary stopped to let his pistol cool down for a short period. In this time he went over to a Sword-Brother wounded by a devastating slug the got into his gut.

"Relax, allow the Emperor's creation to mend you." He said, kneeling beside him. In righteous anger the Brother moved to swat him away but under the calm gaze of the Apothecary he was in turn calmed as well. He let Klaus removed the offending bullet, before proceeding once again to fire. Klaus himself knew that the Chaplain and others had for considerable time now closed ranks with the enemy, and while Klaus did not aim to taste blood in single combat just now he knew very well that in moments of frothing fury the Black Templars may lose their temper and care for any wounds. Klaus knew that he would have to be ready to care for them when they eventually realized that perhaps they were missing an arm for the last ten minutes.

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

The Confessor had taken the end of the fighting calmly, reloading his arms and putting them into their slings or holsters. He moved cautiously to Lisbeth, in an almost protective manner knowing that she had to fight the man of her dreams in a proper state of rest with holy arms at her side, rather than in a state of injury or exhaustion after being ministered to. Horacio was not about to tell them their business, and that she shouldn't chase after heretic aboard but the man had seen enough to know caution was best exercised here.

"I concur with the Sisters. The foe must be slain with utmost urgency lest this all be part of some grand plot." He said quite simply, reading from a prayer book he got from some recesses of his clothes. The Confessor didn't bother to speak much more, not having any further input. Instead he went forth to the fallen armsmen and traitorous humans about. He prayed for the souls of all, not asking for forgiveness or salvation but rather fair judgement - which in the case of good men would equate to the same thing. For the traitors however, the Emperor had much penance planned in the afterlife.

Then he returned to his comrades, somewhat more solemn looking. Whatever input the others had he didn't bother asking about. He was a leader, but not a commander and this would reflect quite simply on his actions. Thus he would go along with whatever was planned upon, his duty done either way.

Warhammer Fantasy: The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world! [REBOOTED] [FULL]

Waldemar

Username: @Andreyich

Character Name: Vladimir (or Waldemar, which he typically uses in unfamiliar company) Ivanovich Vetrov

Race/Species: Kislevite Human

Gender: Male

Age: 26

Career and Skills: Vlad has spent much time honing magical skills in the Imperial colleges but they are not nearly as good as can be, for there were few other ice mages there to pass on their specialized skills to him. As such, most of his powers are uncontrolled bursts of his ice magic fuelled by emotion, desire or desperation. However, on days where the winds of magic flow truly strong he can manage up to three unique spells of his respective school. From his studies and Noble upbringing he did receive a few more skills. First is fencing and swordplay which he can at least hold his ground in, and is improved by the blood-freezing cold in his blades. The other important skill he got is speech in several languages; both main Kislevite tongues (Ungol and Gospodar), Bretonnian, Reikspiel, and Norscan, all of which he is a good negotiator and fluent in save for the rolled "R"s.

Weapons: The only real 'weapons' in possession of the Kislevite are two familial blades (one a Shashka, and one a Szabla) and a long staff with a crystal of ice or diamond at the top cut to a fine point so the weapon could be used as a spear.

Attire: The man has little in the way of armour, preferring to just wear his round fur hat or 'papapkha,' along with simple trousers, tunic, a heavy fur coat and leather boots with steel caps.

Equipment/Other: He has little in the way of equipment other than his old but tough horse "Paul" along with spurs, saddle bags and saddle, reins, and whatever else he will need for the old boy. He always makes sure to have a pot, kettle, tea leaves, sugar and butter with him for a very strong and nourishing tea to help him end the feebleness he feels after using magic.

Physical Description: The Kislevite is of moderate height at 5'11 with pale white skin contrasted by mud-brown hair and icy blue slightly Asiatic eyes, as well as a very ruddy complexion. His face is very elongated and aquiline save for the small nose and small forehead with a low hairline. A distinctive physical features is a scar on both hands where excess thumbs were amputated. Vlad is double jointed at many points in his body (wrists, thumbs, elbows, knees) and has a naturally very lanky build that despite years of hard work driving him to the peak of his muscularity is still not very much above average and is best described as sinewy.

Mental Description/Personality: Vlad is a polite and helpful if somewhat impatient man, that will always put a coin in a beggar's hand. That said he had a somewhat irate and unpredictable personality with mood swings and such. He is still very affected by a longing for home, and the fact that even if he does safely get there he will not be able to see his father is just more melancholic.

Background/History:
Vladimir was born to an affluent Gospodar family outside of Praag doing business with the Ungols of the city. His father was a rather stereotypical Kislevite nobleman; a bulky man with a red face, a beard, a constant friendly laugh verging on a guffaw and a warm heart. His mother was somewhat inverse, an Ice Witch. She married him just as many Ice Witches marry noblemen to make sure their sorority keeps power in the country. She was a stunning lady with the usual charms that let her seduce his father. Yet, everywhere else she was a cold and calculating person with her duty first and foremost in her mind all that time.

As the boy grew he was mostly raised by his father and his tutors having a rather happy but isolated life spending most days hunting, fishing, riding with his father or lazily pretending to do what his mentors desired of him.

However, at some point in the near future things were to change oh so drastically. A raiding party of Norscans had just plowed through a nearby river and was going to a pond where he and his father were. To their luck the family had their body Guards with them which more than stood their ground, but just as the assault happened his father was thrown into the icy water to drown by the Northerners.

As Vlad looked on at his struggling parent with tears, he was overcome with grief and anger, and felt something within as many magically gifted people do at their first exhibition of their power. He screamed and flexed a few fingers to suddenly water under his father freeze and push the man out on a small floe of ice.

At this point the teen boy was exhausted from the magical exertion had had undergone, and lapsed from consciousness. His father however, got out of the water and soon realized what had just happened. The aging man had to think quickly and called home for some of his most trusted men. The boy was re-dressed and put in a coach. When he came to his sense, his father had a long talk with him. It was filled with many tears and much lament but there was no choice. If the boy was to come home it would be at most a few days before either his mother killed him. Two family swords, much money and an old family servant who both knew would defend and help the boy until either of them passed. He was sent off to the Imperial colleges of magic, to most likely never see hearth and home again.

When he arrived in the Empire he was quite surprised, and it took much adjustment. He began his studies working as hard as he could, learning about the winds of magic. Eventually his servant passed away, and this coincided almost perfectly with his money running out. He had to take one work elsewhere to subside properly, menial stuff like washing, or even cleaning privies. However, he got the most he could from his learning until about a year ago when he reached the peak of what the colleges could teach him. When this truly dawned, Vladimir now a young man decided to find his fortunes elsewhere. He saved up for a short time, and now set out to find himself work, fame, glory, and a life that wouldn't have him hunched by his thirties. Thus, he set put for the guild of esteemed sellswords to make use of his unique talents and abilities.

Warhammer 40,000: Lilaethan (Eldar Roleplay)

@Lucian
I really don't like craftworld eldar, but I really do like Exodite Eldar and my point is could I play as a space wood elf riding a t-rex?

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

The meltas breached their intended hole, and the Apothecary stood high up to gaze over the shoulders of his Brothers to see what was within. He checked the load on his pistol and gave his chain-axe an experimental whir once more, eager for the scent of battle. Klaus did his role dutifully, but retrieving geneseed from fallen brothers was not something he enjoyed. Every time he'd have to stare into their dying eyes, and almost every time he would have to make the pronunciation that they were unfit to continue life as a dreadnought.

The Apothecary cautiously stepped out, making sure he was mostly surrounded by his Brothers and servitors. A simple-minded man might call it cowardice but in fact it was loyal duty. Oh how the serpent of the anger within him wanted him to charge, oh how he wanted to run forth and cover himself in gore with his chainaxe and fists. But the fact was it wouldn't and shouldn't be. He had an oath to be read to administer treatment to whoever might need such.

Still, he raised his plasma pistol and cautiously scanned the environs for some threat that his brothers and the servitor wetware might have missed. As the Techmarine pronounced where they were to go, he cautiously followed with his pistol raised and his axe prepared for a parry rather than a strike like the blades of his brothers.

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

today or tomorrow my brothers