@Xanadu Awesome, I was a little worried I sent it to the wrong person or something 
Jarl Coolgruuf Member
The Mellower
STATUS: Ma! The sex roleplayers are being weird in the advanced tab again, Ma! 3 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 484 (0.14 / day)
- VMs: 1
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- Jarl Coolgruuf 9 yrs ago
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3 yrs ago
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Ma! The sex roleplayers are being weird in the advanced tab again, Ma!
4
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6 yrs ago
Stack sats, print gats, distill vats, feed cats
1
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6 yrs ago
We here at Cyberdine Systems have heard your demands and we answer your cries with "BullyBot". With the push of a button you can now automate all of your cyberbullying. The future is here. Embrace it.
5
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6 yrs ago
>using the phrase "normie" unironically
3
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6 yrs ago
They always ask me, "What the fuck are you doing!?" but never, "How the fuck you doing?"
11
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Most Recent Posts
@Xanadu Did you get my profile I sent over PM? I just want to make sure you know I made it 3 days ago in case something went wrong and it didn't send.
This shit looks a-fucking-mazing I'm a slut for all things cyberpunk, dystopian, and the like. I'll have a character by Friday at the ABSOLUTE latest.
Current working idea is an old, grizzled mercenary looking for a few last jobs to pad out his retirement fund.
Current working idea is an old, grizzled mercenary looking for a few last jobs to pad out his retirement fund.
@Jbcool Nope, I died
Very, very interesting
Grett frowned at the lack of high caliber weaponry. He knew it was a long shot to hope for a stash of shootas on an Inquisitorial ship but a man can dream. The Ork Hunter took a suit of flak armor from the shelf and pulled on only the greaves and the magazine belt. He carelessly tossed the rest of the armor aside as he slipped the knife into a sheath on the belt and set to work hording mags for his lasgun. His regiment often forgos much of their flak armor due to its utter uselessness against the sheer stopping power of most Ork weapons and to starve off dehydration, by far the deadliest killer out in The Green.
Just as the veteran soldier was done grabbing his equipment, he spied the wonderous shape of a flamer. His eyes sparkled with the memories of his time on an Ork Firesweep Team as he let the lasgun hang by its strap on his shoulder. He snatched up one of the glorious promethium spewers and felt right at home with the familiar weight of the fuel tank on his back. He laughed a hearty and malicious laugh as he opened the fuel lines. With a manic grin, he pointed the nozzle to the door and waited only just long enough for a crack to appear in the door just wide enough for a stream of burning fury to reach the enemy before depressing the trigger with a giddy laugh, the pain his thumb all but forgotten.
Just as the veteran soldier was done grabbing his equipment, he spied the wonderous shape of a flamer. His eyes sparkled with the memories of his time on an Ork Firesweep Team as he let the lasgun hang by its strap on his shoulder. He snatched up one of the glorious promethium spewers and felt right at home with the familiar weight of the fuel tank on his back. He laughed a hearty and malicious laugh as he opened the fuel lines. With a manic grin, he pointed the nozzle to the door and waited only just long enough for a crack to appear in the door just wide enough for a stream of burning fury to reach the enemy before depressing the trigger with a giddy laugh, the pain his thumb all but forgotten.
@Jbcool Shit, my bad
Grett looked down at the body of the Chaos infected Stormtrooper with a sneer of disgust. Kneeling beside the body, he prodded the corpse's face with his finger in morbid curiosity. Having never seen the effects of the Ruinous Powers first hand, he assumed the revolting creature must be some sort of xeno. No human could possibly be this grotesque. The Ork Hunter gave an internal shrug and set about rifling through the corpse's pockets. He found an extra mag for a las pistol and promptly tossed it aside. The combat knife at the traitor's hip made Grett smiled that crooked smile of his despite as he snatched it from the sheath. Lacking pockets, he simply held the blade in his teeth as he continued his pat down.
He stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of the symbol in the major's hand.
"Holy shit," he mumbled around the blade, "a bleedin' Primarch is in on this?"
Even in the jungles of Armageddon, the symbol of Guilliman and his legion was known.
He stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of the symbol in the major's hand.
"Holy shit," he mumbled around the blade, "a bleedin' Primarch is in on this?"
Even in the jungles of Armageddon, the symbol of Guilliman and his legion was known.
"Couldn'ta freed us before I broke me thumb?" the Ork Hunter grumbled.
He rubbed his sore hand as he stood and stared with narrowed eyes at the weapon on the ground. He shifted his gaze to the Major and fixed him with a suspicious glare. Rescue was not something his regiment knew. If an Ork Hunter is swallowed by the jungle the only people they can rely on is themselves and maybe their squadmates. He didn't trust these "shadow order" eejits even before they tossed the body of an Inquisitor to the floor.
Nothing made sense and he hated it. Things were simple back home. In The Green, you see an Ork and you shoot or stab it until it stops moving. Grett had done his job and done it well for more than a third of his life. He was a loyal soldier so anyone who'd kidnap and torture a loyal soldier wasn't one. In fact, that'd make them an enemy. There was no question that he'd like to give every one of these traitor Inquisitors a lasgun lobotomy, but he didn't trust his supposed "rescuers" for a second.
Still, they had given them weapons and freed them so they were at least not his list of things to maim and kill. His eyes didn't leave the Major or his company as cracked his thumb back into place and retrieved a lasgun off the ground. His gaze only momentarily flicked down to check his weapon was ready before he was glaring at the major again.
"Alright, but if you lot think I'm gonna be in front so you can shoot me in the back of the 'ead just before we leave then you got Squig shit for brains."
He rubbed his sore hand as he stood and stared with narrowed eyes at the weapon on the ground. He shifted his gaze to the Major and fixed him with a suspicious glare. Rescue was not something his regiment knew. If an Ork Hunter is swallowed by the jungle the only people they can rely on is themselves and maybe their squadmates. He didn't trust these "shadow order" eejits even before they tossed the body of an Inquisitor to the floor.
Nothing made sense and he hated it. Things were simple back home. In The Green, you see an Ork and you shoot or stab it until it stops moving. Grett had done his job and done it well for more than a third of his life. He was a loyal soldier so anyone who'd kidnap and torture a loyal soldier wasn't one. In fact, that'd make them an enemy. There was no question that he'd like to give every one of these traitor Inquisitors a lasgun lobotomy, but he didn't trust his supposed "rescuers" for a second.
Still, they had given them weapons and freed them so they were at least not his list of things to maim and kill. His eyes didn't leave the Major or his company as cracked his thumb back into place and retrieved a lasgun off the ground. His gaze only momentarily flicked down to check his weapon was ready before he was glaring at the major again.
"Alright, but if you lot think I'm gonna be in front so you can shoot me in the back of the 'ead just before we leave then you got Squig shit for brains."
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