BCTheEntity

A Guild Adventure: An RP with Monster Girls! (ENDED)

Marxello Catchanale

'Well, it's all well and good that a real man can govern himself,' Mark replied, happy to move into more comfortable fields of discussion such as this now that the farmer's leg was fixed, 'but any man with sense also sees the benefits of working with others. Certainly, we could all be self-governing, but consider the following: alone, you are just one farmer, with limited ability to gather crops. Working with other men, you could farm far greater stretches of land, and perhaps develop ways of farming even more land per man. And that's just as far as farming goes; I won't continue into further examples, but long story short, we wouldn't have built up a society if we didn't work with one another.

'On top of that, say I hadn't come across you, and your leg had healed wrong,' the Knight continued, arms crossed over his breastplate. 'Wouldn't your life have been "torn to shreds" by the event, as you put it? And nobody could or would have helped you, because you've isolated yourself from others. But since you encountered me, I was able to help you, as is my job - that, and preventing monsters from taking people, either away or... well, away. Frankly, it's not my job to do what the geezers in fancy clothes do,' he explained, now uncrossing his arms to seem a bit more open, 'and if I beat them up and tried to do their job, I'd probably fail miserably, because they have been taught how to govern, and I have not.'

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Necroes You know what, I do recall seeing stuff about death-masques now, and I seem to recall that they're intended to violently murder anything within a few dozen miles of themselves. Then again, I also seem to recall that their base is some form of human rather than a Chaos Spawn, but that's just me. So, fun times kidnapping a giant alien gun for the purposes of turning its crew into monsters and murdering everything in sight, though it is worth noting that even civilian Eldar are trained to fight in most cases, since it's a necessity for their race to not die and all.

@Wraithblade6 Admittedly, I did act like kind of a twat about the plan when it started not working out how I'd hoped, for which I once again apologise to everyone. That said, I rather maintain that allowing one person to control three Space Marines is a bit OTT. To wit, the original concept for Lucius was that he lacked most of his equipment at the start specifically to keep his power compared to other characters reasonable, but the concept breaks down once much of the original cast vanishes, and we wind up with multiple other Space Marines- many of which are Chaos-aligned- as well as a psychic Chaos Ork, and a psychic Heretek. So... he might need an equipment upgrade soon, perhaps.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Necroes I feel like if one could drop the ball on a spaceship's design, then the Eldar did so with the Hemlock. What on Earth Terra drove them to not install even marginally larger batteries for such a ship? Or more of them, anyway. It's not like there's that much of a size limit anyway.

Also no, I have not heard of those. Pray tell, what is a death-masque?

The Crucible - Winner Take All

So I'm going to try to get another post out for Motley tomorrow. I may not be able to promise anything, but I may also have an entire day free tomorrow. Probably not, all things considered, but...

Compendium of Races

Dracomorph - A species created artificially through the merging of magic and science, in an effort to combine the best aspects of human and dragon physiology and psychology. Physically powerful, and with magically-enhanced breath weapons and flight capability; they tend to be magically poor otherwise, are sometimes rather apathetic unless pushed, and often have a proud streak that precludes the use of magic and technological enhancements besides, with direct changes to their bodies requiring Dracomorph-specific mods rather than general human augs.

Dracomorph

There is a significant distinction to be had between a species and a hybrid, the same reason that domestic dogs can interbreed freely whilst lions and tigers will produce infertile offspring: differing numbers of chromosomes essentially produce a one-time mutant creature in the latter case, completely sterile if it is not outright stillborn, whereas in the former case, all differences are effectively cosmetic in nature. The chances of a child being produced at all only get lower the more different two creatures are, meaning that, for instance, viable offspring between humans and dragons could never usually happen, no matter what certain fantastic novels might assume.

A certain group of scientists in Frixion Prime were not necessarily deterred by this, however. They saw the power of dragonkind, and wondered what that sort of power would be like, what it could do, if merged with the upright form and flexible mind of a human being. Normally, though, the two were utterly separate, a given considering that dragons were more reptilian than mammalian; yet even with the most advanced genetic techniques available to them, what kept being produced was not viable, with their very best efforts producing just a couple of infertile hybrids with little more to recommend them than additional weaponry on their hands, stubs of bat-like wings, and somewhat enhanced magical power.

Incidentally, it was one of their displays of magical ability that clued the scientists in on a possible route toward success: using magic to better merge the two genomes into one. So they travelled to Vasishka, searching for mages who might be open to learning the secrets of biological manipulation, or better yet teaching the scientists how to do so themselves. They were ultimately successful in this endeavour, and eventually, the success bore fruit: thirty years after the project's beginnings came the birth of the first member of homo draconicis, a.k.a. Draconic Man, a.k.a. the dracomorph species.

Technically, of course, these dracomorphs were neither human nor dragon, but some entirely new subset of biology; human DNA was mostly prominent, however, and so a member of the homo genus they were considered. Of course, one glance would tell anybody how distinct they were from normal humans, for though superficially similar (albeit highly-muscled one and all), all bore inch-long claws where their fingernails ought to be, and razor-sharp teeth, and cold, calculating, sometimes oddly-coloured eyes with slightly ovoid pupils and nicitating membranes. That, and the large pair of wings emerging from their shoulderblades, scaled in varying colours depending on their lineage.

Speaking of lineage, the original goal of these scientists, to gain all the strengths of dragons and humans with none of the weaknesses, was at least partially successful, for even their most unfit members were physically powerful enough to break down concrete walls if they so pleased and take equally hard hits like they were pinpricks, and their strongest could even duel and defeat the very dragons they shared DNA with in one-on-one combat. Atop this, many of them were as strategic as their draconic originators, with patience belying their humanity; their magical capabilities provided them with the capacity to breath flame, or ice, or poison, or whatever their lineage suggested was appropriate, though their human side might not have been able to handle such things normally; and so too did it grant them the power to fly through the air borne atop their wings, though they should have been at once too small and too bulky to propel them at all.

And yet the scientists' success was limited to this. Magically speaking, the majority of dracomorphs were lacking, for despite their breath weaponry and flight capabilities, most could barely produce sparks if they tried using their power in any other way. Not that they would, since they also inherited from their draconic ancestors an uncaring, even apathetic demeanour, merged with an overly proud streak, specifically focused on what they saw as physically superior bodies that needed no assistance, be it magical or technological, to deal with whatever came their way. Testing proved that aside from especially weak-willed members of their kind- for alas, the flexibility of their more human selves was both beneficial and detrimental in different ways to different dracomorphs- it took the sort of ego breaking that would destroy most beings to make them so much as consider improving any aspect of themselves beyond pure physical ability - and even then, their genetics and physiology meant that direct augmentations to their body needed to be specific to their race, rather than simply adapted slightly from mods that would work fine with standard humans.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before many of the dracomorphs decided they disliked being kept as test subjects, and a few made a point to remind the scientists who had created them that they were, at the end of the day, their own people, with their own sentient minds... and far more strength than the scientists themselves. Unable to argue with that logic, the scientists ultimately made the choice to allow the dracomorphs to enter Vasishkan society proper, if only to protect themselves from further backlash.

That was around a century ago. Nowadays, dracomorphs are considered a small but significant part of Vasishka's culture, a perfect example of how science and magic are not mutually exclusive, as well as forming a small but significant subset of the planet's population as well as that of both Frixion Prime and Ecetopia. Though many fill similar roles to humans proper, what with sharing a somewhat similar mindset, they frequently beat out pureblood humans in roles ranging from physical labour to corporate control despite the apathy behind their psychology. Of course, they certainly aren't absolute in their superiority, and it is rare to see any dracomorph in a role that requires magic or a supportive nature.

These guys are public domain, if anyone's interested in playing as one.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Post made. @agentmanatee, if you're not happy with what I've come up with, do say so, but I figure it's the best way to avoid getting any more PCs killed off, at least in the short term.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

The end result of all his hard planning had been... minimal progress, and a lot of setbacks. The Ogryn did manage to knock away one of the subordinates, only for the surgeon himself to blow a hole in his leg. And then the Ork did something that rendered the Ogryn unconscious, possibly dead. Overall, he had been worthless.

On the other hand, Lucius wasn't in such a great position himself. He still had the Marine in his grips, but as the surgeon helpfully pointed out, he'd break free eventually, bucking wildly as he was. And even if he let the Chaos Marine go of his own will, there was every possibility that he'd just kill Lucius anyway, either before his boss had the opportunity to tell him to stop, or because the man didn't bother, liar that he surely was. Either way, his position was extraordinarily perilous, especially with his persistent injuries and that bolt pistol levelled at him... and that might also be the key to surviving beyond the next few seconds, as it happened. The Marine he had hostage was equipped with his own weaponry, probably something ranged just in case; his armour would likely make for a good meatshield if he happened to die with his throat slit-

'I would advise that everyone hold on to something!' came the voice of the purple-armoured Marine piloting the bizarre ship, and for a couple of seconds, Lucius found himself gazing at a viewscreen that made his own situation seem a tad irrelevant for the time being. An immense space battle, seemingly between all sorts of factions - the Eldar, the Imperium, it seemed even one of the Legio Astartes was there, or at least whatever they had devolved into in the last ten thousand years. And in the same moment, Xepherial had revived himself, and now lunged toward the enemy Marine, threatening to destroy him. How exciting.

And yet this distraction was not to Lucius' benefit, for the wild Apothecary began to move ever more erratically, trying to grab back at Lucius' body to throw him, and it was clear he'd break free in a moment if Lucius didn't act right then. He tore his hand free of the Chaos Marine's helm, grabbed at whatever weapon happened to be at his belt, and was promptly thrown away as, simultaneously, the ship jolted and the Chaos Marine tore himself from Lucius' grasp.

Through the knife still at his throat. Lucius' strength alone might not have gone too far through even the weaker points of Bravis' defenses; with the additional strength of his own power armour, on the other hand, it managed to cut deep into the Marine's neck before sliding out and away with its wielder.

As he fell back, ready to spring away from the floor the second he landed, Lucius glanced at the blade in his hand, noting that it was coated in a layer of crystallising red blood across its entire width. An extremely damaging wound, then - chances are the initial bleeding wouldn't kill his ex-hostage, but the clotting across multiple important blood vessels and maybe even his windpipe would certainly cut off the oxygen his brain needed, at best knocking him unconscious in less than a minute, and steadily weakening that whole time- assuming no Chaotic idiocy went to work on inexplicably keeping him going- at worst killing him in that same amount of time. But, since he was a Space Marine after all, Lucius guessed he'd be more likely to suffer the former situation... meaning he was still good as a hostage.

And in his other hand, the Marine's bolter. Probably Chaos-aligned, but perfect for the situation at hand.

Landing on the hand holding his own weapon, and noting that his fall had positioned him behind Bravis in a way that made targeting him infeasible, he aimed and fired the new gun toward the Chaos Marine’s knees- their backs, the less-protected portions- in a burst of four rounds. The first round struck the first knee dead-on, exploding as it pierced and practically pulping the flesh within; the next two, fired as Lucius moved the gun round, passed between the legs and hopefully struck something of his main aggressor as he brawled with Xepherial; and the final shot glanced Bravis’ leg, just enough to knock him down in combination with the other shot, but not enough to detonate the round properly.

And as his hostage fell, he sprang off of his hand, barging into the back of Bravis to properly bring him to his knees, and at the same moment forcing the Marine round slightly to block not just the main surgeon’s possible attacks, but also those of the surgeon’s other minion, the one-armed fellow who’d been knocked down before. Lucius was now hunkered down behind the body of the Marine with his throat slit, sword hand gripping the back of the Marine’s chestplate to keep him still and upright, gun hand pointed over the pauldron toward his master. If either of Bravis’ allies could target him, they would be flesh wounds at best.

And even then, the surgeon had the gall to try and threaten him with Xepherial’s well-being. His allies continued to be effective, of course. But to threaten them when he was in the weaker position? How dare he? How DARE that maniac tell HIM that HE had to surrender- his train of thought cut off as another glimpse of his past returned to him, the same battle as he had been lost to Chaos in. A slight glimmer of a sword striking a pauldron, as it happened. Interesting.

‘Better idea, whatever your name is,’ Lucius retorted coldly. ‘You and your friend put your weapons down, and we can trade our respective allies to one another. Bravis here’s gone and cut his own neck open. He’s going to die if you don’t give him immediate medical attention.’ As expected, the Marine was already beginning to weaken, making holding him in place that much easier. But weakened would shortly be dead… somewhat shortly, at least. Not necessarily a grand prospect…

‘I’m going to take us into an enemy ship!’ Vedius interrupted from his seat. ‘Prepare for a boarding action, or prepare to die.’ And that suited Lucius just fine, because it only strengthened his position.

‘I reckon you can’t save Bravis and prepare for the boarding action whilst keeping Xepherial under your blade, surgeon,’ Lucius continued, his voice a monotone over the sounds of the ship’s vibrations. ‘If you wait too long, it might be that you lose out on everything. Best make your choice now, and bear in mind you will lose an ally if you choose poorly.’

Warhammer Fantasy - Call of Chaos

@POOHEAD189 Yey PH. You are the hero this forum needs, but not the one it deserves.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@agentmanatee Wasn't planning on killing him. But... well, you'll see.

A Guild Adventure: An RP with Monster Girls! (ENDED)

@Ariamis Make that a medical ward, and Mark can assist whenever he's not out spreading the word of the Chief God, one cleansed monster at a time.

@PaulHaynek There appears to be a distinct lack of stuff in the middle section of the second floor. I recommend expanding that to be more floor-ey, complete with pillar support if necessary. It's not like the giant section in the middle is anything other than floorspace right now, after all... unless it could become a food hall, but we have two side halls for that.