Avatar of Ezekiel

Status

Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current What's the worst thing about the Roleplayerguild and why is it the status bar?
3 likes

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Maybe this is a little bit of bias because I came into this (and designed my character) around the idea of having us be low powered, but I'm not exactly pleased at the moment. I'll stay, but I want my voice to have been thrown into the ring.


That's a very reasonable concern, I normally find myself playing the 'average joe' of most 40k casts of rp'ers. I personally find some amount of fun in that, but admittedly it can be bothersome to feel left behind. If it helps, the dark eldar are very much there to help with the general plot, as I know Bloodrose very well. That being said, I still wouldn't put them as more powerful than an Astartes in most situations. I personally think you will have plenty of opportunities to play to your character's strengths, it may be a warhammer rp, but it's not just about who can swing the biggest stick, not even remotely.
So.

Dark Eldar aren't incapable of being psykers. All Eldar are still innate psykers, the ability of Dark Eldar to manipulate their psychic potential has atrophied over thousands of years of negligence and culling, but, their ability to 'feed' off the pain and suffering of others is still only possible 'because' the entire eldar race has 'some' potential. The sheet answers why she wasn't murdered at birth because she wasn't born in the dark city, she was born as an exile, and the Drukhari's realspace/minor webway ports make the Dark City look like a bastion of law and order. I do specifically mention this a few times in the sheet.

Secondly. Dark Eldar have a fairly well-established history of fighting alongside all sorts, there are both Dark Heresy and Black Crusade official adventures which feature them. It's not that they enjoy doing it, or are unaware of the risks, it's that a combination of greed, a need to survive, and ambition push them to do so. That and there are specific unrevealed plot points which they are working towards, but that would be spoilers.

I do hope that clears things up, if you require me to cite sources, I can.


Inevitable is a strong word. When the spindling lines of fate coalesce into one immutable path. The anathema of Chaos and all its glorious mind-bending change.

Yet still, some fates are inevitable. No amount of effort could save the shuttle once the missile had struck home, the damage done and the craft sent into a cataclysmic dance through the sky from which it could not recover. The time between the initial strike and the impact providing those on board simply with time to prepare themselves for the coming impact.

The small voidcraft crashed into the archaic ruins of the old city as a comet of smoke, fire and metal. A hab block older than the civil war which had doomed the planet practically collapsed into dust as the shuttle shot through it, pulling back the craft's momentum by only a fraction. A moment later, and the shuttle struck the 'ground' level before ploughing through, shuddering through a ravine of man made construction and into the depths of what had been the Old City's lower levels.

To call it a rough ride would be something of an understatement, but the crew compartments remained intact, preventing the would be treasure hunters from immediate conflagration. As the emergency systems finally wrenched the exits open, a new threat soon began to materialise. A chittering, swarming movement in the dark, only the barest of light reaching down into this new underdark. A laughter of excitement broke out among the mutants gathering towards the downed craft and it was not long before the boldest of their number began to swarm towards the craft. Food and loot for the impoverished hordes.

As the tide of violent, unwashed, death approached the stricken craft and the survivors of the crash, a new noise began to echo over the growls and whoops of the approaching mutants. The building scream of jets bounced from shattered wall to shattered wall. Even to the untrained ear the noise was distinct, clearly artificial yet of a purity of purpose the engineering of the Imperium could not match. Terror shuddering across the air.

With a concussive wave of displaced force, a pair of jetbikes burst into the cavernous space of this particular branch of the Old City. Bathed in darkness, they skimmed across the tide of mutants. The bikes banked once, around the shattered shuttle, before pulling up. A sharp hiss heralded a rain of disk-like motes of light from the new arrivals, and where this rain fell among the crowd of mutated freaks, they fell and died from a thousand bleeding wounds.
I'm working on a post that will both introduce the edgy space elves and ramp up the danger for the PCs (essentially a creative collab between myself and Bloodrose, part GM post part my post). But I just wanted to give people time to write a post to react to the crash.

I'll have it up tomorrow regardless of is there are more posts though. In the meantime, if you've yet to post feel free to write some of the mutants beginning to attack you as a character, as that's what's coming next.
@Bloodrose

Nice, posted up.

Hit me up when it's convenient for us to discuss them showing up.
Name/Titles:
Taenarion and Lesara Dépitcoeurix

Appearance:

It takes relatively little time when studying either of the Dépitcoeurix to come to the conclusion that they stray beyond the constraints of humanity. Their movements are lithe and fluid in a way that a human cannot match, more akin to a feline predator than the relatively meandering motion of a hominoid. Sometimes in the company of those that may be sensitive to such they obscure the more obvious elements of their appearance and conserve their motion, but once in action and revealed their can be little doubt.

Beyond this shared ancestry, however, the siblings have little in common. Taenarion strikes the more typical appearance for his species, pale and dark haired, hauntingly handsome in a manner that is supremely arrogant and cruel, his form is tank-grown with the lithe muscle of the Kabalite warrior caste. To those informed of the siblings family, Taenarion would seem to have almost identical resemblance to the patriarchal sire of the Dépitcoeurix, cloned from the gene-stock of his family for use in the ever cut-throat battles of Commorragh.

Lesara on the other hand, could not be mistaken for typical either as a scion of their bloodline or simply as a denizen of the dark city. Slightly shorter than average, with a powerful form for an Eldar, her eyes form motes of fey-light rather than a normal iris. Were it not for this, she might look akin to some of the more physically focused of her ilk, the wyches and beastmasters, but ultimately the curse which has caused her lifetime of exile from her peoples' shadow realm is not one that can be hidden. While usually, the soul of a Drukhari is a twisted, shrivelled thing, her own blazes with the warp touch of a psyker.



Personality:

As one might expect of the Drukhari, neither of the siblings are particularly warm beings. Forced to feed on the pain and suffering of others as all their kind are, lest they fall into the embrace of She Who Thirsts, their exile and thus longer periods of time in real space have made them creative in how they achieve this. They are not so supremely arrogant as would be the norm, willing to work with the lesser races for more extended periods than most to achieve their ends.

Much as their appearances differ on most points, so to do their personalities. Taenarion is a disciplined and cunning warrior, it is written into his very being by the procedure that birthed him. That is not to say he is quiet, or even uncharismatic, but once the fighting begins, or risks are involved, he maintains a cold focus that borders on zealotry to whatever his desired aim may be.

Lesara is more vibrant, strangely so, for her kind, gifted by the curse of the psyker with a fuller sense of self than many Drukhari possesses, she is less afflicted by the withering of the soul. In many ways this is masked as the combat and torture highs that the Drukhari of all ilks are known for, but it stems beyond that, she possesses the capacity for an existence beyond the vampiric leeches of her people, even if it is far more likely to damn her to oblivion.

Biography:

The Dépitcoeurix Bloodline is a relic of a lost age of the Drukhari, a fleeting memory of a time when the nobility of the ancient Aeldari Empire still ruled its last true enclave. At least, this is how they would tell the story. In reality, they were but one of many retainer families attached to greater houses. Centuries upon centuries of shadow war has all but removed the trace of the previous rulers of Commorragh, such that those which could once only claim to be valued servants, now cling to the faded scraps of their glory.

Even this barest grasp of greatness was denied to these particular Dépitcoeurix siblings however, caught in the last final challenge against the authority of Vect and the Kabals, many of the household, along with their retinues, were forced to flee the Shadow City, to the fringes of the Webway, and to the limited real space holdings of the Drukhari. It is during this moment of desperate exodus that the pair of Drukhari were born, one to the rare natural birth of a valued offspring, the other yet another tankbred warrior-clone of a far flung sire, aboard the same ship. The jarring cross into realspace would imprint most dramatically on the trueborn girl. The Drukhari are not without psykers from accident, a deliberate purge of the otherwise psychically gifted Aeldari race prevents the threat of demonic disjunction within the Shadow City, thousands of years of this practice has made the manifestation of such gifts rare. To be exposed to unshielded psychic energy of real space, and the predations of She Who Thirsts, at the moment of birth, however, may have contributed to the soul of Lesara alighting with psychic potential, that, or she was simply a rare birth among rare births, saved from immediate destruction by her family's desperate flight.

Away from Vect and the authority of the Kabals, the Dépitcoeurix were less inclined to maintain the laws of the city they had fled, and even less inclined to waste the birth of a trueborn child while already fleeing with diminished resources. Thus the young Drukhari girl was kept alive, as much a potential plaything as a member of a reduced family. While kept in relative isolation due to the risk any psychic potential has on the careful balance of the Drukhari's staving off of Slaanesh, over the centuries of her youth Lesara was still trained and prepared as any scion of a Drukhari household should be. Foremost among these were the art of the kill, cunning and cruelty.

Meanwhile, the tank born Taenarion lived surrounded by peers, just another warrior for the bloodline's ends. Trained to fight and kill in units, not as individuals, invested with just another ambition and selfishness to be manipulated, but never seen as more than the blades by which the bloodline would strike against its foes. Desperate as the exiled family were by this juncture, their tankborn were rushed to fight younger and younger. Before Lesara had even been allowed out of her own personal quarters, Taenarion had fought in raids against the lesser races in the desperate raids for souls, and against other Drukhari in the cutthroat politics of the Drukhair's real spaceports.

It was the final execution of the bloodline which sprung both siblings free from the roles they could have endured for centuries more. The period of grace from the pursuit of Vect's agents coming to a close, likely simply because the Kabals grew bored of what had distracted them in the interim. The Ancient Dying Sun Battleship that had long been the Dépitcoeurix's final stronghold being struck by a much more numerous force from the Shadow City. During the fighting, Taenarion found the usual urges of his 'programming' to fight and die for his genetic 'betters' overridden, and a new voice in his head. The pair abandoned what remained of their once 'noble' family to die, escaping within the sleek form of a voidraven.

Since then the pair of Drukhari have lead their lives as exiles, but in a far more isolated manner than before, condemned mostly to the horrors of realspace and the ever hungering draw of She Who Thirsts. They have swallowed their pride and worked with the lesser races, but recent events have presented an opportunity, one which they hope to use to secure themselves an existence beyond the scrap-feeding reality they find themselves in.

Other:
The stars themselves once lived and died at our command, yet you still dare to oppose our will.

Mysterious planetside contacts (potentially) reporting in.

Name/Titles:
Taenarion and Lesara Dépitcoeurix

Appearance:

It takes relatively little time when studying either of the Dépitcoeurix to come to the conclusion that they stray beyond the constraints of humanity. Their movements are lithe and fluid in a way that a human cannot match, more akin to a feline predator than the relatively meandering motion of a hominoid. Sometimes in the company of those that may be sensitive to such they obscure the more obvious elements of their appearance and conserve their motion, but once in action and revealed their can be little doubt.

Beyond this shared ancestry, however, the siblings have little in common. Taenarion strikes the more typical appearance for his species, pale and dark haired, hauntingly handsome in a manner that is supremely arrogant and cruel, his form is tank-grown with the lithe muscle of the Kabalite warrior caste. To those informed of the siblings family, Taenarion would seem to have almost identical resemblance to the patriarchal sire of the Dépitcoeurix, cloned from the gene-stock of his family for use in the ever cut-throat battles of Commorragh.

Lesara on the other hand, could not be mistaken for typical either as a scion of their bloodline or simply as a denizen of the dark city. Slightly shorter than average, with a powerful form for an Eldar, her eyes form motes of fey-light rather than a normal iris. Were it not for this, she might look akin to some of the more physically focused of her ilk, the wyches and beastmasters, but ultimately the curse which has caused her lifetime of exile from her peoples' shadow realm is not one that can be hidden. While usually, the soul of a Drukhari is a twisted, shrivelled thing, her own blazes with the warp touch of a psyker.



Personality:

As one might expect of the Drukhari, neither of the siblings are particularly warm beings. Forced to feed on the pain and suffering of others as all their kind are, lest they fall into the embrace of She Who Thirsts, their exile and thus longer periods of time in real space have made them creative in how they achieve this. They are not so supremely arrogant as would be the norm, willing to work with the lesser races for more extended periods than most to achieve their ends.

Much as their appearances differ on most points, so to do their personalities. Taenarion is a disciplined and cunning warrior, it is written into his very being by the procedure that birthed him. That is not to say he is quiet, or even uncharismatic, but once the fighting begins, or risks are involved, he maintains a cold focus that borders on zealotry to whatever his desired aim may be.

Lesara is more vibrant, strangely so, for her kind, gifted by the curse of the psyker with a fuller sense of self than many Drukhari possesses, she is less afflicted by the withering of the soul. In many ways this is masked as the combat and torture highs that the Drukhari of all ilks are known for, but it stems beyond that, she possesses the capacity for an existence beyond the vampiric leeches of her people, even if it is far more likely to damn her to oblivion.

Biography:

The Dépitcoeurix Bloodline is a relic of a lost age of the Drukhari, a fleeting memory of a time when the nobility of the ancient Aeldari Empire still ruled its last true enclave. At least, this is how they would tell the story. In reality, they were but one of many retainer families attached to greater houses. Centuries upon centuries of shadow war has all but removed the trace of the previous rulers of Commorragh, such that those which could once only claim to be valued servants, now cling to the faded scraps of their glory.

Even this barest grasp of greatness was denied to these particular Dépitcoeurix siblings however, caught in the last final challenge against the authority of Vect and the Kabals, many of the household, along with their retinues, were forced to flee the Shadow City, to the fringes of the Webway, and to the limited real space holdings of the Drukhari. It is during this moment of desperate exodus that the pair of Drukhari were born, one to the rare natural birth of a valued offspring, the other yet another tankbred warrior-clone of a far flung sire, aboard the same ship. The jarring cross into realspace would imprint most dramatically on the trueborn girl. The Drukhari are not without psykers from accident, a deliberate purge of the otherwise psychically gifted Aeldari race prevents the threat of demonic disjunction within the Shadow City, thousands of years of this practice has made the manifestation of such gifts rare. To be exposed to unshielded psychic energy of real space, and the predations of She Who Thirsts, at the moment of birth, however, may have contributed to the soul of Lesara alighting with psychic potential, that, or she was simply a rare birth among rare births, saved from immediate destruction by her family's desperate flight.

Away from Vect and the authority of the Kabals, the Dépitcoeurix were less inclined to maintain the laws of the city they had fled, and even less inclined to waste the birth of a trueborn child while already fleeing with diminished resources. Thus the young Drukhari girl was kept alive, as much a potential plaything as a member of a reduced family. While kept in relative isolation due to the risk any psychic potential has on the careful balance of the Drukhari's staving off of Slaanesh, over the centuries of her youth Lesara was still trained and prepared as any scion of a Drukhari household should be. Foremost among these were the art of the kill, cunning and cruelty.

Meanwhile, the tank born Taenarion lived surrounded by peers, just another warrior for the bloodline's ends. Trained to fight and kill in units, not as individuals, invested with just another ambition and selfishness to be manipulated, but never seen as more than the blades by which the bloodline would strike against its foes. Desperate as the exiled family were by this juncture, their tankborn were rushed to fight younger and younger. Before Lesara had even been allowed out of her own personal quarters, Taenarion had fought in raids against the lesser races in the desperate raids for souls, and against other Drukhari in the cutthroat politics of the Drukhair's real spaceports.

It was the final execution of the bloodline which sprung both siblings free from the roles they could have endured for centuries more. The period of grace from the pursuit of Vect's agents coming to a close, likely simply because the Kabals grew bored of what had distracted them in the interim. The Ancient Dying Sun Battleship that had long been the Dépitcoeurix's final stronghold being struck by a much more numerous force from the Shadow City. During the fighting, Taenarion found the usual urges of his 'programming' to fight and die for his genetic 'betters' overridden, and a new voice in his head. The pair abandoned what remained of their once 'noble' family to die, escaping within the sleek form of a voidraven.

Since then the pair of Drukhari have lead their lives as exiles, but in a far more isolated manner than before, condemned mostly to the horrors of realspace and the ever hungering draw of She Who Thirsts. They have swallowed their pride and worked with the lesser races, but recent events have presented an opportunity, one which they hope to use to secure themselves an existence beyond the scrap-feeding reality they find themselves in.

Other:
The stars themselves once lived and died at our command, yet you still dare to oppose our will.
Lo and Behold

Tis I
Inteerrrrrrested

Although I am both spread thin and desperately without time to write atm, but a casual rp might work for me.
*SMACKS WITH APPROVAL STAMP*

Go play, Kid.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet