BangoSkank

WH40k: New Frontiers and Promised Lands - A Rogue Trader Adventure

I'll join up as well as Roald Cliffbloom; Ratling Trailblazer and Drunken Degenerate

Warhammer Fantasy: The Hammer of Witches - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world

Udo had heard through the local grapevine of the arrival of the Witch Hunter to The Intelligent Guardsmen and meant to attach himself to the party. He had arrived late, never a good first impression, but nonetheless he meant to make an introduction and join up. Pressing in he saw the gathered guards and the Witch Hunter at once, Helmut Van Graff. Walking past the guards and toward the Witch Hunter and the adventurers gathered about him Udo liked what he saw. The Witch Hunter was clearly an experienced hand with the grim look one expected of a Witch Hunter. He had the look of a man with purpose, which was something Udo was quite short on as of late.

"I am Udo Wanderfoot," he offered, looking up to meet the gaze of the man and the others, "a bounty hunter in these parts. I heard the call and have come to join you in service to the Empire."

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (MK III)

The door to the tavern swung open out into the streets of Footfall and a small hairy figure stumbled out, the various sounds of a packed and well soused tavern crowd spilling out from behind him. He was well lubricated, stepping out for a moment to enjoy the day and take a long drag off a cigar. His last trip with a Rogue Trader group had been sometime ago and he'd found Footfall relatively well suited to his interests. There was alcohol, there were women, and both in various flavors and strengths. Drugs of all sorts, depravities too. Perfect for him, yet he felt ready for a new trip as he almost always was, but then again there was a rather pretty stranger in the tavern. Buxom, loud, short and ripe, all in all just about right.

Holding the cigar in his mouth he combed through his sideburns and tried to set his hair right. Though it had started to go gray it was still thick and wild and not particularly keen to follow his commands. "Come on Roald," he muttered to himself as he fussed about, "we still got a few good years in us." He realized he likely needed a bath and had spent too long awake and in various cycling stages of drunkeness, but that was all part of his charm wasn't it? He wasn't the sort to be invited to meet a young woman's parents. Not his forte. He was more the curiosity quencher. He was half sized sure, but was he 100% half sized? Only one way to find out.

He took one last long look around town to see if he could spot any tell tale signs of coming adventures. As was so often the case there were gunshots sounding off from somewhere or other, ships burning through the skies to land from their last trip or set off on a new one, there just might be opportunities coming up short on the horizon. In a place known for it's vice there usually were. Still plenty of time to take his shot. If he wound up finding something for tomorrow he might as well make this night memorable. He licked his fingertips and used them to kill the cigar, dropped it back into a pocket, and pushed his way back into the tavern with a purpose.

Warhammer Fantasy: The Hammer of Witches - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world

Yuuuuup

Warhammer Fantasy: The Hammer of Witches - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world

Username:
BangoSkank

Character Name:
Udo Wanderfoot

Race/Species:
Halfling

Gender:
Male

Age:
38

Career:
Udo worked as a Bounty Hunter throughout the Empire after a brief spell as a Fieldwarden in a small frontier Halfling town and many years working as an unofficial "Bounty" Hunter.

Skills:
Udo speaks Common, Halfling, and Reikspiel.
He is knowledgeable about the geneaology and heraldry of the Empire.
He is skilled in Outdoor Survival, Cooking, Perception, Gossip, Search, Shadowing, Silently Moving, Following Trails, the Specialist Weapon Groups Slings and Entangling, Strike to Stun, Strike Mighty Blow, and has unusually good Night Vision.

Weapons:
A small flanged mace, a well crafted shank, a sling and crafted projectiles, a bola, a net

Attire:
Plain cotton shirts, vests, and pants, each in different colors. A thicker brown adventuring vest. A green parka. A clean more presentable town outfit bundled up and black shoes to match. A beautiful amulet of Sigmar.

Equipment/Other:
Several thick sketchbooks and pens, a very small tent, a small pot to cook in and a small bowl to eat from

Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.):
Udo is 38 years old, 90 lbs, and 3'7". With thick brown hair generally combed back and parted, sharp green eyes, a bulbous nose, and no beard on his face save for well groomed muttonchops, he is in every way physically an unremarkable Halfling. He no longer looks like a Halfling in his childhood but he appears to have lived a fairly comfortable life. The only thing that might betray his less than peaceful life is his ragged left ear, a souvenir of that fateful night.

Mental Description/Personality:
Udo presents himself as a loud gregarious man when it suits him and adopts a quieter more proper personality when the time calls for it. He is very friendly and very quick witted, he uses these two things and his slight stature to ingratiate himself with people who may prove informative. Though in town he often appears quite happy go lucky he is in fact quite cunning. His personality is in short divided, he is quite kind and friendly with his friends and indeed with many strangers until and unless he needs to be decidedly less friendly.

Background/History:
A few years into Udo's work as a Fieldwarden his town was beset upon by a blood thirsty band of cultists. Though he fought alongside his fellow Fieldwardens he was quickly clubbed hard over the head with a small shield and left for dead. Upon awakening he saw that after overcoming the others the cultists had been much less kind to the rest of his people. They had been gathered, slaughtered, and butchered. With nothing left Udo spent many years hunting them down and his personal attachment to this pursuit taught him precisely how to do exactly that, hunt and catch a man.

Udo perfected his bounty hunting skills hunting down the cultists who had destroyed his small town in his youth. The journey took him many years longer than it might have if he were a little larger, a little stronger, a little more intimidating, a little better suited to simply carving up the monsters as they so deserved. Udo had spent his youth celebrating a happy carefree life loving his small body and his peaceful people and ended up spending many after his youth cursing it all. Seeking his revenge and seeing it escape him time and time again.

That loss formed a great divide in his life, a time before and a time after, and nearly all of his memories now are from the time after. Many years spent in pursuit in it's many forms. Mingling with the common folk to learn about small time criminals, popular taverns, the travelings and trevails of the underclass. They had even taught him how to cook good nourishing food with nothing but what he could gather in the wilds. Mingling with the upper class to learn the geneaology and heraldry of the realm and to sharpen up his Reikspiel. He gradually became better at it all as he moved from cultist to cultist.

When his hunt was finished and the last cultist found Udo reached out to an old fat friend to celebrate the day. An old well-celebrated chef who had taught Udo how to cook and with whom Udo had shared many a long trip. He had a small cottage amid the mountain and along the river just West of Eilhart. Together they made a rare specialty which stood right on that border between Royal Extravagance and Commoner Ingenuity. Wild Boar Meat, Chicken Broth (prepared the night before), Fresh Cracked Black Pepper, Olive Oil, Butter (generous), Garlic, Bay Leaves, Caraway Seeds, Carrots, Celery, Reik Sprouts, Mushrooms, Parsley, and a happy helping of Potatoes. Cooked up all together, low and slow, and stirred at regular intervals to prevent uneven cooking. Pour it generously into bowls for the Commoners, arrange it artfully on a plate with a reasonable amount of broth drizzled atop for the Upper Class. Garnish it with Madman's Cap to bring the final cultist to rest.

The fat man carried a generous pot out to a small table on a prepared outcrop there. Years ago they had swept it clear of debris and trimmed back the weeds and brush that grew there for the wedding of the fat man's niece. She was a beautiful if stupid thing though the ceremony had gone off without a hitch and brought her a better life than she could ever had had with such a simple (if accomplished) parentage. The fat man poured a bowl for each of them, having learned from Udo the joy of messily slurping up the broth when the meal was finished, then hurried back to fetch some good wine while Udo put the final touches on their bowls. They ate together and spoke about the years that had come and passed and then with a full stomach and a clear conscious, after that fat man had fallen into an unnatural slumber, Udo lifted his mace and brought it down on the fat man's head until there was little left but mush and powder from the crushed rock he rested on. Udo then finished his bowl quickly, packed the bowl up, and returned to the fat man's cottage to pick up a more recognizable memento, and walked into his new life.

With his vengeance finally achieved he felt a burden lifted off his shoulders, but with it went the purpose that had driven him for so long. With no specific goal but a rather effective set of skills he decided, before that fine meal had even really begun to digest, that he would continue to hunt men. He would turn those lessons he had learned and relationships he had formed toward hunting men for the Empire rather than for his own satisfaction. Money proved to be a suitable substitute for revenge, if not for home.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (MK III)

Roald Cliffbloom

Username: BangoSkank

Character Name: Roald Cliffbloom

Race/Species: Ratling

Gender: Male

Age: 43

Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.):
Roald is small in stature, not surprising for a Ratling, and hairy, also not surprising. He's tan and oddly fit for a race commonly known for their pot bellies. He has wild overgrown eyebrows and an up turned nose scrunched up with a large forehead. He has thick messy dark brown hair which is gradually going gray and sideburns as well as a neigh permanent five o' clock shadow. His default facial expression is a frown.

Attire:
Light Brown/Grey Head Wrap
Climbing Ropes Wrapped Up Around Shoulder
Green Cameleoline Cloak
Militarum Auxilia Chest Strap with Two Pockets and Skull Emblem
Standard Olive Drab Uniform Shirt and Pants
Thick Belt with a Canteen Holder Attached on One Side and an Ammo Box on the other
Bandaging Wraps Around Wrists/Hands and Ankles/Feet

Personality:
With his fellow Rogue Traders, whether alone with them or peacefully exploring a town with them, he is loud, crude, coarse, obnoxious, drunken, lecherous, gluttonous, and yet somehow still charming. He takes full advantage of his small nonthreatening stature and large eyes so that even when he presses things too far and gets a well deserved slap or shove the conversations generally keep on. He is easy to talk to, easy not to take seriously, and somehow despite how offensive he can be he rarely actually offends. He wants the things everyone wants, he's just more open about wanting them and generally wants more of them.

Aboard the ship he serves as the mechanic. His small size allows him to get around the moving parts more easily and to attend to them from angles that many wouldn't be able to. His curiosity, persistence, and ample application of grease, oil, lubricant, or whatever other fluid he thinks likely to help him solve a problem have served the ship well in keeping things moving. Often times the smell of oil and muffled sound of incoherent swearing echo from the oddest sections of the ship.

In the field, when out on a mission, he is much more professional and quiet during the scouting and traveling phases. Given an order he will quickly find a way to escape even his fellow Trader's view and then pop up again some time later having ventured ahead far afield. When the rifles start cracking his loud whoops tend to accompany his return fire and often, immediately after one of his traps goes off, his barking laughter can be heard from somewhere or other in the battlefield.

One of his goals is to become influential/powerful/wealthy enough to improve his peoples standing in the Empire. After the many slaughters and near genocide at Ornsworld he wants to secure a future for his people and be remembered for doing so. His secondary goal is to get laid, get paid, and repeat that cycle over and over as much as possible until he drops dead. It is often not at all clear which is the priority for Roald.

He is a drunken lecherous loud mouth, but also a sneaky, half mad, mean, little bugger. He works for a paycheck, the notoriety, and to get his hands on booze, drugs, tech, and women from across the universe.

History:
Roald's professional life began in the Militarum Auxilia. With his fellow Abhumans he served in this specialist division of the Astra Militarum as a member of a crew of Ratlings. He didn't manage to fit in quite as well as he had hoped. While his combat capabilities were exemplary his personality didn't do him many favors. Certain things are expected among a company of Ratlings but even then there are limits. Roald's inability to exist within these bounds led to his exile from the Militarum Auxilia.

He had served well as a Trailblazer. His confidence, restlessness and some tendencies toward solitude made him a perfect fit for the primary responsibilities of the role, and his penchant for explosions and sometimes rather disturbing exuberance when sending rounds into the general cranium region of unsuspecting enemy troops served him well. He'd joined them in enough campaigns and saw them through enough tight spots that when his general debauchery and penchant for "borrowing" stuff from adjacent units and the populace in general got him in trouble he was assigned to stay on at the latest nothing planet and help to settle it.

He figured out fairly quickly that the soil was terrible, the company wasn't much to look at, and there was no one and nothing fun to shoot. The sedate life of a settler would never fit him and so he had joined on with the first Rogue Trader to make a stop on that dirt clod of a planet and so began his life as a Rogue Trader.

Skills:
Roald is the consummate Trailblazer, having found a role that fits his natural abilities and inclinations rather well.

In town, or during his Auxilia days around camp, he is quite proficient at procuring near anything he or his unit need or want. When he chooses to he can be very outgoing and friendly, while he is almost always obnoxious and coarse. He is fairly good at disarming hostile but not yet violent strangers due to his diminutive size in the hope to gain useful information about nearby likely hostile areas or the location of fun toys to play with.

Despite his often loud and obnoxious nature among his crewmates when he is on the job he is eerily capable of evading detection and remaining undetected while moving through hostile areas at a relatively high rate of speed. He can swiftly move up the sheerest cliffs and wiggle through the smallest of openings due to his small stature and considerable proportionate strength. Having moved unseen through these areas he is then able to help others navigate their dangers with minimal risk utilizing freshly made trails or old trails freshly uncovered.

When things inevitably wind their way toward some folks he is fond of shooting a lot of folks he doesn't particularly care for he utilizes some of the tech has has managed to "acquire" over the years to harass, distract, and slow down the enemy. Stealth cloaks, combat webbing, ropes, hooks, all manner of traps, and his small size and fondness for finding crevices to stick himself into (hee hee) allow him to create opportunities for himself to engage the enemy when they are at their weakest.

When it comes down to the actual shooting he uses those traps, his small size, his speed, and his accuracy with his Long-Las to confound the enemy and attempt to set them up to be ambushed by his fellow Traders or caught in their own crossfire. He has the uncanny and sometimes downright unsettling ability to set traps up in the most devious of places to inflict grievous wounds and sew discord.

Equipment and Weapons:
-Vox-Caster
-Monocular Telescope
-Canteen on Belt
-Cameleoline Cloak
-Climbing Gear

-Long-Las Rifle
-Combat Knife (attached to waist)
-Various traps and trap making materials

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (MK III)

I’d like to join up again with my same Ratling Trailblazer, and if possible i would like him to be a mechanic. I figure it fits him pretty well.

I’ll fiddle with the character sheet a bit as well. I think I’ll make him older and grumpier.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (Full, for now)

"Roald," the Ratling introduced himself to the lad, Daniel, and stuck his hand up to shake while looking around.

Happily the lad was still with him, Roald figured they'd both have a greater chance of finding and being accepted by the Rogue Trader group together. Numbers were less suspicious, a big group was easier to trust than a small one but a small group was still drastically less suspicious than a lone recruit.

"Brains're the thing lad," he said formulating a simple but executable plan. Turning back he saw Daniel had a gun and learned he wasn't too afraid to use it. The lad was ready to go, which was a damn good thing to be right about now. It was hard to guess how well Daniel moved but he at least had the will to move.

"Here's what we're gonna do," he leaned in to Daniel and explained his plan. A simple plan really. They'd start from the outside and move in checking out the ships. It would be hard to tell for sure which ship was a Rogue Trader and they would have to be careful not to draw attention from anyone on board the ships, but they could both blend in pretty well. Some of the ships could be counted out pretty quickly, clearly military or clearly enormous shipping vessels. If they moved quickly between the remaining ships they could hopefully find the Traders before they themselves were found.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (Full, for now)

Roald smiled, the lad was headed the same way as he. Toward adventure, booze, women, hopefully a generous fortune, albeit for a better and more pressing reason. "No soul huh, folk have said the same about me." he replied, though the kid did have that look about him. Didn't seem to be a jest for Daniel as it was for him.

Roald didn't have too much trouble keeping pace with the lad, he was used to moving quick from scouting about, but he did find it difficult to keep up with the full sized youth who set a proper pace while also keeping his drink divided between his glass and his belly. While the lad explained a bit about himself and his situation Roald dealt with the pressing matter of that drink.

Belching after downing it rather quickly he replied, "Unscrupulous, dirty, soulless, in search o' real money an' dishonest work. Pleasure ta make your acquaintance an' you was right on all accounts. I'm lookin' for work, I'm a abhuman, and one a them flyers is surely ours."

The lad is almost too big for it but Roald moves to grab a hold of the lad who was leading and pull him just off toward an alley as they continue on. Daniel could resist easily if he'd a notion to but as Roald continues on, assuming the lad followed mostly of his own volition, he explains between robust burps.

"Skies been busy of late, docks are sure to be full an' flowin' through with folk," he peeks around corners, continuing to speak to the lad who is hopefully with him, "If'n you really ain't got no soul we should stick together. Word gets 'round fast out here. Lot of low folk like me heard about the Traders comin' into town. Folk might be lookin' for ya, shouldn't be lookin' for me but if they see me I might be in a spot. Got duties here I ain't real keen on seeing to, ya hear me lad?"

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (Full, for now)

So often in this world so much of fate rested on the head of a pin, so much was up to chance. If it should lean one way you might find yourself dining among the powerful and fucking among their wives. If it should go the other way you might end up shot, run through, mutilated, chopped up, reconstituted, and serving some prick who steadfastly refuses to simply let you die. A single moment could change your whole life, the lives of your future children, everything. It all rests upon the head a pin.

Such is a slightly cleaned up version of Raold's thoughts as a sweaty out of breath young man walked up to him, causing him to stop short and very nearly indeed spill his beer.

"Oi, you know where the Rogue Trader that's coming could be found?"

"Fuck," Raold, summed up that previous paragraph into one word, "Almost made me spill my beer."

The young man was wearing unappealing but practical clothes, dirty sweaty, tired, and looking for some Rogue Trader's. He was Raold's kind of people.

"Yeah," he replied with a grin and took a long drink of his beer, "Ah know where they'll be. Name's Raold, what you running from kid?"