Jamesyco

WH40k : Lost System

Lost System

[Initializing Warp Trajectory]

[Convening with Navagator]

[01000010 01101111 01100100 01111001 00100000 01100001 01101000 01100101 01100001 01100100]

[Trajectory <= Change = Unkown Blockage]

[[ REQUEST IMMEDIATE VOID ESCAPE COLLISION IMMINENT ]]

"Captain, there is a group of unknown bodies in our immediate path, requesting immediate departure from the immaterium." A servitor blurted out as its torso swung around to face the captain on the pole connected where its legs should be.

"Depart the Warp as soon as it is safe for the Navigator to do so. Have crews ready for repair and any incursions."

[[ DEPARTURE VARIABLES = 1 ] DEPARTING ]

[E/R?r}

"IMPACT IMMEDIATE"

[Diag?-n]

{DISCONNECT = TRUE}

---

The captain looked through the unstained gallery in front of him; a large dark body loomed in front of them, silhouetted by golden rays that broke upon the opposing side of the celestial body in front of the ship.

[ Momentium <= 1 ]

"Impact is likely; estimated time is four minutes and thirty-six seconds until impact in along the northern hemisphere of the planet if we change the current trajectory for entry into orbit, likely hood of escaping orbit = false." Said the tech-priest on the bridge; he connected to where the late servitor was once was plugged into. "The machine spirit is uncontrollable at this moment, requesting assistance to appease it."

---

Three minutes later, a large Galleon transport, the Errant Stork, landed upon the planet of Quinsis IV while apart of a fleet heading through the Cicatrix Maledictum to reach those worlds cut off from Holy Terra. Two regiments of Imperial Guard, and half of a skitarii cohort, and a small contingent of three imperial knights and their retinues. A large portion of the ship landed in the water, only the front portside portion landing upon the stony beaches of the southern hemisphere. The lower decks were mainly flooded, along with small portions of the human and material cargo being destroyed on impact.

Several days after impact not much has been done, with the sardine can packing of the Administrautum most of the ship hasn't been capable to triage and mobilize those aboard the voidship out onto the world to explore and begin preparation for a possible long term survival upon the world. Will those aboard the Errant Stork last long enough to be saved, or will they have to forge their own path and learn how to survive in the world they are now apart of. Else die or fall to some darker fate in their current state.

---

This is meant to be more of a mission to mission style RP with some downtimes between them. They are mainly based on an old Only War game that I was in/cohosted a few years ago. Message me here if you have any questions.

Into Perdition's Jaws

Paris Beurra

A gel was applied to him and his armor. He stared down at the vents, "Everyone plays kingmaker, but the pact helped my people when they played kingmaker; their equipment has kept me alive for a long time. Technology and aesthetics aren't everything; this doesn't need to be advanced and expensive. I can take something from your cooling units, a few tools, and a comms unit to fix this; most of what you use needs special tools and equipment."

He shut his eyes as they were drying out, his lips were cracked and his skin dry and starting to scratch with the burns covering most of the upper half of his body. He licked his lips to try and moisten them some, it didn't help much but it was something. He sat there for most of the ride silent, hopefully, he could get some stuff to fix his suit, and possibly water. He shifted his body to the side once the APC stopped and getting out was him walking backward until he could stand.

It wasn't efficient like the way he got in, but it worked. He would turn around and face his comrades before following them, taking in the sights of the different group that came to their aid. He shrugged lightly to get a few kinks of out his bones and stretched some. He looked at those around him, he already had some problems with the group, not the way it worked, but how several were not human. He mainly stayed quiet, he was more or less there if things went bottoms up to his knowledge.

When asked a question about ammo he looked at the creature, "I have my backpack and my rig, aside from that, the two crates that I brought with me got blown out when we were first hit. It's the wrong caliber for most of your weapons likely since you don't use pact equipment. But, if you find either one, I would be grateful for their return if you are able to find them."

He hit his helmet, "the trackers on them aren't useful when I can't see them on my display helmet, I'll give you four moderate-yield explosive packs per if you promise to blow the thing that gave me a plasma tan up." This was when he began wondering if this was a place to stop, mainly so he could fix anything he could and get ready for the next point in their journey or if he would be off again being thrown around again in another vehicle that was getting shot at.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond the Pale - A Rogue Trader Adventure

Isaiah

Isaiah turned his head to the techpriest, and held his hand up, "No injections at the moment please, but greetings." he said smiling softly, at least there was someone vocally cordial in the room. "If I am dying then I may change my mind... those drugs affect the mind, and I'd rather stay somewhat sane for the moment."

"But, before the captain gives us our orders, and his word... we should come up with some form of a plan or a set up for how we will conduct ourselves on a ship full of enemies unknown to us. Preferably before our ship becomes a hulk and some young explorer decided to venture into it only to be sassed by the silver-spooned woman there."

"Because Emperor forbids her several human lifetimes of learning sarcasm and sass goes to waste floating in the void of space."

He rolled his eyes and checked his shotgun once again, opening the bolt slightly to see the loaded shell. He let go of the arm and let it hang from his shoulder once again. He lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair, pulling a few loose strains out and looking at his slowly balding head unamused. Maybe more graphing will fix that, once he gets back. He lowered his hat and looked up and around at those in the room, maybe being old isn't that bad. Although, if he hadn't have had some graphing previously his looks would have soured like aged milk. Well, at least his personality didn't sour as the knife-ear did in her youthful age of older than the dirt beneath him when he was born.

He continued to think about it, I wonder if she can read minds, I wondered if the psyker can read minds. He was waiting for the Rogue Trader to tell them to do something before he got bored and started trying to figure out some way to push the Eldar woman's buttons or find a way to get a drink of some kind.

Into Perdition's Jaws

Paris Beurra

In a confusion of an explosion and being pushed back on his knee and shin, metal scrap shifted back a few feet until he was in a truck. "Fucking, asshole," he said after the explosion, the front of his shield now white and rapidly cooling as the mechanical beast strode towards him in drunken vigor. He grabbed the arm and proceeded to beat the dying beast with its own arm; when he noticed the ammunition about to cook-off, he just slapped the molten part of its arm against what he believed was its head and dropped it before hiding up underneath his shield for the cook-off.

"Ya missed ya fucking jackass," he muttered as he stood up and shoved his shield on the metal beast's top a few times.

He turned and started at a pace. He looked down the road at those impatient soldiers waiting for him and the other member of the team, and he started his sprint the last length taking his knee to slide and pop back up near the back of the ramp. He lifted himself to his feet and his shield up as he walked forward into the APC. He stood at the door looking in before grabbing the roof of the hull and walking inside. He moved close to the far end and he got on his knee putting his shield down on his side.

"If you have sunblock, use it... and give me what's left," he said as he lifted his mask up to let air vent into the suit. He was radiating heat as he turned his head as far as he could which was not far, "being this hot makes me feel like I am in my twenties."

He let his shield go and turned around before looking up, "or if you have an extra comms unit I can ride on top."

Warhammer 40k: Beyond the Pale - A Rogue Trader Adventure

Isaiah

As soon as he saw the nod he turned on his heel and started his walk. Striding quickly as he felt the deck below him along the ridges of his boots. He had pretty much everything he needed at the time, shotgun was just for formalities. He walked through the bulkhead and turned once again as he started through the maze of the ship, getting close to the sides of the hall to let the ratings pass.

Over his vox he listened to the captain, "I will be there shortly." he said as his strides grew longer, he paced himself some, mainly so he didn't burn his old body out before the fight even begun. But he began thinking some, he is the biggest target that screams 'For the Imperium' in the ship, and if he is going over to a ship full of things that hate even seeing something Imperial, he was going to have a fun fight. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

He reached his room and opened the door. It looked almost standard for an officer's quarters if not for the boxes. Over his bed was a shotgun mounted to the wall, he walked to it and lifted it up. Taking the sling and pulling it from the barrel. The sling was moved up his arm and around his shoulder, letting the barrel sling below his right arm. He leaned down and got another sling, and a large canister of shells putting it around his neck and left arm, sliding it under the other sling so if he needed to take the shotgun off he could easier. The box of shells wouldn't interfere with movements as much as the shotgun would where it was currently hanging.

He turned back out of the hallway and headed to where he was being sent to, bending his elbow up as he took several shells from the canister, closing it behind them, and then putting one in the barrel, and the rest in the internal. Eventually, he arrived at the point and was greeted, "Oh it's nice to see you again knife ear." he stated, rolling his eyes, "But if these things are any more deadly in person then their ship is, should we not refine a plan for ourselves and ratings once we board? I have a few idea's but I don't they are beneficial to the centuries that knife ears spent learning to be sarcastic." He asked to the rest of the room.

Into Perdition's Jaws

Paris Beurra

Huh, it kind of worked, he thought as he smiled to himself. Was on the ground now, and this thing stood up.

The large man looked up and was reminded of the blast from last time; this wasn't going to be as bad as the last, which was concentrated on him, but it would do something if he weren't careful. He watched as the mech ran past him, and he decided that he wasn't done with it. It was running away; the only thing going through his head is, 'I am not done yet.' He started after it again, his shield on his side as he was going only for speed and momentum.

He turned his head to make sure that he had some form of vision on the roaring plasma that was going to hit near him any second now; this was his new plan, well, an old one, but a good one. Use something as cover, he knew this wasn't going to be a concentrated attack like last time, but it would still hurt if he didn't have some extra armor.

Taking advantage of the various weapons hitting it, "You forgot about something, jackass!" he said as he slammed into it from behind with his right shoulder in the desire to piss it off some, and also so he can have a chance to get in front of it. He then put his right knee on the ground and his heel in front of him as he turned to his left, pulling the shield up behind him for the blast as he slid along the ground with it.

He hoped that one he could trip the stupid pain in his ass once and for all, and two that he could use it from some extra material between him and the center of the blast. Three that if it didn't work, that he could use the shield to push him closer to his goal of getting the hell out of dodge.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond the Pale - A Rogue Trader Adventure

"It's cause it ain't Imperial, Master Trader, the only time I had face a vessel similar to that is when I was twenty-five years old... To my remembrance, it is far more advanced then what we have, they hate anything with imperial iconography, and they like sifting through trash." Isaiah closed his eyes for a moment, "the only thing I believe can turn the situation in our favor is if we appease them, go faster than them, or if you have some weapon hidden up your leave."

Thinking a bit more, "There are two other possibilities, dumping any trash compartment we have left with munitions and hoping they go for it."

His eyes narrowed towards the statuette in his hands, "but the question is, do they want us dead, or do they want that thing you have in your hand. Some stupid little trinket might have some importance to them, so I believe we suit ourselves out like the knife-eared darling and prepare ourselves for a melee, and if we are daring enough today, we try a boarding action of our own to damage it."

"Now, Master Trader, may I retire to my chamber, I may require my shotgun for the coming fight." he asked still looking at the idol for a moment before shifting his vision up to the traders head waiting for permission.

Into Perdition's Jaws

Paris Beurra

Pushing over trees in his path with his shield or head, clearing a nice splintered pathway of destruction for any who decide to follow, the armored man known as Sergeant Beurra, or Paris ran like a fat man to a buffet. His back began to look like a porcupine with metal projectiles sticking to the red hot metal of his armor. Inside, he began to look like a lobster of sorts. If it wasn't for ventilation, air conditioning, and him running, he would have likely been a roasted man. Burns had begun to form around large contact points, such as the hip, knees, elbows, neck, and hands.

He heard mainly static, but thankfully luck was on his side today as he was heading in the correct direction in his blind sprint. He hit the road and skidded into some probably dead guy's van leaving a large dent where his shoulder and head made an impact. Yelling and shouting ensued, and after realizing that he was against a vehicle he pulled his shoulder from its resting spot and started to move down the road again.

He looked to his left to see the bio construct. He prayed this thing was just using targeting systems with dumbfire munitions, they could at least be dodged. The hamster wheel began turning in his mind. If something was apart of a military, or whoever the fuck these guys were with, that they will likely have the same train of thought as him. A metaphorical crayon lamp over his head had begun to shine brightly. If he pissed this thing off, maybe it would focus on him as he was the biggest and baddest idiot on the field. Get rid of him, and it can have a field day with the others, after all, he did survive one of its attacks. But, if it's using dumbfire and shoots everything at a stationary target, that should give him a half minute to run the fuck away.

His leg dropped onto his knee as he slid a few feet and his shield on its side was mounted by his rifle. He aimed, "Oi fucknugget," screamed the angry armored man. "I bet you can't hit me!" he yelled out a shot rang out towards the bioconstruct, aimed at the main body. He shot a second time standing up, hitting his shield against the barrel of his rifle to make noise as he started to walk at a brisk pace towards it.

He noticed someone else was shooting at it from the side, but that did not matter to him. He lifted his shield up in front of him, and put it on the rollers for parts of his running duration. He was not at a good run, and still picking up speed as he went into a sprint, the red hot armor creaking and making enough noise to sound like a pile up on a highway. He took one last peek over his shield, putting his rifle on his back magnetically, and putting both hands on the shield, one on the main magnetic handle, and the left on the grip of his shotgun. He knew his target, and the metal man decided it was best to jump now for maximum potential also so if this didn't go the way he wanted he could pull the shield over him in case of retaliation.

For a moment, he soared before hopefully smashing into this thing's legs to knock it out from under itself, if not just tackle it to the ground. Because when in doubt, don't fuck around and find out with a shipload of pissed off and armed passengers.

The Emperor's Duty: A Warhammer 40K RP

Lt. Adrian Erest and the 123rd Exiol Light Infantry 22nd company - 3rd platoon

---

Between the

The roadblock was set up, two trojan carriers lined up on either side of the road, a mortar in the pit of one, and the trailer with the autocannon on it. They were mainly there to resupply any unit in the nearby operations area that was running low on ammunition, as well as to be a light fire support team if needed. Over the vox, there was plenty of comms communication coming from the units behind them closer to the manor. Adrian listened to the battle that raged further up the hive towards the governor's manor that the Arbites were at.

But there was a small crowd of about fifteen people on the trailer trojan looking at the radio, and the mortar team was in the trojan also listening to their vox.

"I bet the General is glad the newest regiment of soldiers is currently playing whack a palace today," Corporal Baum said staring at the radio. "Nat, you've been in the guard for a while, what do you think it is?"

The Seargent turned his head up at the man, and shrugged, "I've fought in the war, not in political stuff... We weren't in the briefing like the other regiment was... If anything it's some guy who wanted to try ruling his planet without the Emperor's light. I've fought in two wars against traitors. I guess this time, someone wanted to stop a war before it happened. But, if the traitors knew we were coming, fourth and fifth will likely have to be called, and we will likely take place for the second and first down the road."

Nat's hand raised down the road they were facing, "If need be we can always fall back to the operation area and have hottie over there can clear the way for the arbites to finish with whatever is left of those other guardsmen."

"Okay Seargent depressing, say that first company gets sent in and demolished and we get sent up there, what are we going to do. We are half strength at best, our only redeeming quality is the heavy weapons and fast armored logistics vehicles we have. Oh, also the fact that if we die, who is cooking dinner for all the other platoons?" Tilly spoke out.

"The fact that we have armored vehicles, the trojan is meant for logistics in inhospitable and hostile environments. Once we get there, we can set up triage for our wounded, as well as set up supporting fire. Once the fourth and fifth get closer, our flanks should be clear. The second has the only way up here right now. We are just here in case if someone starts getting their asses kicked harder than they can handle." Adrian said at the back of the pack. "Now, get back to watching the road... and be prepared to move out in a minute."

Adrian climbed aboard the trojan and entered through the cargo hatch on the roof of the hull, and moved behind the driver, Private Less. The lieutenant was smushed between a large number of standard laspacks, as well as a portable cooker. On the other side were several cots, a few tents, and some medical supplies. Just standard stuff for the logistics people to have. He listened to the vox broadcasts and closed his eyes listening to the voices.

He decided that it was time to start packing up, he felt like they were fixing to have to move soon enough, "Mount up!" he yelled out as he moved his head out of the cargo hatch. "We are going to be moving out shortly, tie down the autocannon, and hold on!"

"Mount Up!" was an immediate response from everyone in the small area.

As soon as he said to mount up, everyone was moving, the mortar team was pretty much in place, Corporal Cel just closed the driver's hatch. Gunner Laws and Corpswoman Dennve had also hopped inside the mortar pit of that vehicle, to split the group up somewhat more evenly. Meanwhile, Less had closed his hatch too, turning the engine over as black smoke poured from the exhaust for a moment before the sputtering engine decided it wanted to even itself out. There were ropes on the trailer keeping the wheels firmly planted on the trailer, but its crew was crouched next to it, waiting to grab hold when they moved out.

The rest of the squad had piled in with the Lieutenant, Corpsman Long was beside him and Lord across from him leaning on the cooker. The other guardsmen probably could handle it if everything went all right, but he had felt something to be off. Hopefully, no plea for reinforcements would come, but he was ready to set out from the small road that he was asked to sit in. They were logistics, they had tents and shit, not bodies for something like that. They could set up a triage center and bomb the living hell out of something from a short distance, but storming something was likely to be on the list this group of individuals was keen on doing. Maybe they could do something like make that triage center, or make sure that the inside of the palace was reduced to large chunks of rubble.

Warhammer 40k: Beyond the Pale - A Rogue Trader Adventure

Isaiah Hussian the III

Name : Isaiah Hussian the III

Age : 25 Terran Years in looks - 58 in years.

Gender : Male

Race : Human

Appearance :
Short length brown hair,(does have wigs for pony tail or curls for formal occasions), blue eyes and lighter caucasian skin, does use powder to make his skin seem more like porcelain. No mechanical implants.
Rather skinny, and shorter (110-130 lbs) (5'2 ft) His shape is about average, or leaner compared to most. No scarring through most of his body, he would seem to be a track runner without thighs.

Typically found wearing white pants, and Imperial Naval Jacket (blue torso with white arms) with midshipman insignia and a small pin on his collar signifying his house. (Grey and black pendant in a checkered pattern) Most of the time wearing white gloves. While on his belt is an issued laspistol, chainsword, glow-globe and data-slate. Can usually also be found with a Data-slate. Will also wear a cloak if he is on a long watch.

A young man, with an aged left eye, nearly white porcelain skin, and long white hair, that is either seen in a pompous wing and ponytail or just as a long single ponytail. His left eye is missing, but it does have a replacement false eye that is similar to his old one for show, but also a large cybernetic piece that he can wear. He does have a large vein-like bulge that goes down the side of his neck under his skin, it is somewhat flush, and looks like a buff guy broke a nerve.

He is taller than what he once was, at now six three. His knees having been replaced some short time ago, as well as his left shoulder blade. The synthetic skin hiding most if not all of the metallic bits. His form is still thin, but this hides the somewhat metallic strength of his somewhat rebuilt again body. His right arm though is buff compared to his other appendages.

He wears either one of two suits, one which is completely white similar to that worn in a ball room. The other is a dark blue, that of the navy with the ranking of captain plastered on it along with various badges and metals that he may or may not have deserved. With his white suit, he does have a laspistol of some kind inside the chest. But his naval uniform, he wears it all, his sword on his side and laspistol on the other. His belt lined with his data-slate, his power packs, and his light.

Personality : Young and extremely timid, Isaiah has yet to experience the world. Those above him he treats with utmost respect, and those below him and beside him he has no idea what to do with. Can be considered a coward in some situations, but when supported he can be valuable. He is not really adventurous, but he is someone to be in awe at some new things he finds as 'beautiful' mainly galactic bodies (suns that aren't the color of his, brightly colored gas clouds, etc) He does try to do his job the best he can, and if he doesn't know how to do something in his line of work, then he figures it out. Can be reluctant to give information out if something is wrong, i.e. someone missing from the shift or cargo missing. (kid really needs a person commissar with a fake gun)

After almost forty years of being in service to several Rogue Traders, he has gain a lot of knowledge. He has seen many stars, fought demonic incursions, xenos, traitors, and many other things. He walked the void of space after venting out his cargo bay to rid it of a fungal infection. He has aged like spoiled milk, becoming a frequent alcoholic, and an overall grumpy and angry man. He is not at home with a family, sitting in some mansion. He is out in the wilds of space, being angry as all hell as looks over the stars.

He has lived his life of adventure, his life in the Navy roster of a Rogue Trader, he has become a captain of nothing but cargo bays and galleys on several ships of varying levels of Imperial heresy. But, in general, he is a reliable old man. If you can bear his yelling, and complaining, you can see that most of his words have some sense and truth to them. He is a bountiful source of information and wisdom to those who can translate insane and angry drunkard.

Relationship to the Dynasty : His family is of a bunch of nobles, but he really has no ties to the rogue trader or his family.

History : Isaiah grew up in a kind and gentle world in his estate, he traveled the planet some. And lived in almost complete luxury due to his status. In his early years he was taught that the human body was perfect the way it was, but to preserve the family at later ages once proven a decent heir or of some importance. They would be given allowances for minor life preservation treatments. Minor due to the world being somewhat out of the way of most imperial trade routes, so not that high on the economic level. But the planet was a Feudal world, living the ways of nobles, and his family being one lower on the totem pole in the planet.

In his education, he was found to be an extremely good pencil pusher, and therefor was to be inducted as one of the planets bureaucrats. But his father decided he should take a different route, and enlisted his son in the Grand Imperial Navy. It was due to other political reasons as well, such as they wanted honor and prestige from the son, as well as a chance to get him out there to other nobles who may have been enlisted into the Navy, or Astra Militarum.

Once given his rank of Midshipman due to his noble status, he was quickly to be found as an Officer of the Watch while most ranking officers were off duty, and quartermaster, due to his good skills with pushing paper. Due to this, and his abilities with other people, he was found to be somewhat of an underdog. His previous Captain, deciding that it would be better for him to put his skills in paper pushing, moved his station to an actual station rather then a ship. There for he, and the pencil pushers of various creed within the Imperium at the station were to inspect ships, their contents, the crew, and the ship itself while in port and dry dock. To rot away as pencil pusher, lest a crew of adventures were to save him, or he was to be kidnapped while inspecting a ship. Because who cares about some lowly midshipman?

He has been transferred around a bit by rogue traders for his ability to keep the cargo bay somewhat clean and orderly. And as a gift to a new fledgling rogue trader, his services were offered as long as the pay was similar and the title was somewhat better. He has been with rogue traders for a long period of time, mainly as a quartermaster and cargo bay controller. But he has slowly been working with command staff and even in small engagements in the bridge. Once he was even given command of the ship when a rogue trader decided he wanted a vacation. For that he was given a few days down on planet and regenerative treatment to make him look younger and to give him a new liver. In his travels he has also been trained in maybe service skills such as cooking, cleaning, being a servant, and some in the commander role of parts of the ship and as a pseudo-armsman.

He is still serving in the Imperial Navy, and they have deemed him to become a Captain now, does he get his own command, no because they have no idea where he is, but they do pay him as he does check in with the Administrautum at some stops.

Skills : Extremely good with numbers, organizing shifts, ordering and stocking goods, ammo, and other needed things.
Knows how to use basic Imperial Weapons, chainsword, and his power sword
Knows how to cook, and how to get higher quality goods for cooking.
Has officer clearance
Is extremely perceptive of things in stock, and can find contraband, as well as knows basic layout of most Imperial ships.
Servant skills
Luxury cooking
Being a fledgling commander

Equipment :
Laspistol
power sword
Basic Naval Officer Garbs
Naval Captain insignia
Data-slate
Glow-globe
recorder
a powerpacks for the laspistol

-in quarters
shotgun
standard naval cloak
Flak Weave
shells for the shotgun

Misc :