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4 yrs ago
"STOP. QUOTING. ME." Jb, 2019, quoted in 2022." Roland, 2022, quoted in 2022.
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7 yrs ago
STOP. QUOTING. ME.
3 likes
7 yrs ago
Gone fishing for a week, will return soon.
7 yrs ago
Happy New Year!
4 likes
8 yrs ago
Merry Yuletide, one and all! Gods bless.
1 like

Bio

Greetings,

I am Jb; Briton by birth, roleplayer by my own hand, and lover of literature. I am also an amateur historian, a receiver of a Bachelors degree in Ancient and Medieval History - quite a useless degree, actually - and would like to think that I'm a fair, honest and open guy.

As far as RP'ing goes, I'm pretty open to most things really, all you need to do is ask! :)

So, if you've ever any questions for me, wish to speak about RP's involving myself or run by myself, or simply feel like a chat, don't be afraid to get in touch.

Most Recent Posts

I'll be getting the longer replies (@DracoLunaris@Dead Cruiser@Wraithblade6) up tomorrow, so no worries.

After this we'll all get to the armoury and jettison off into speeeessss.
@DepressedSoviet

Koldobika was about to reply when a coterie of figures, lead by an individual bearing the same grimacing skull-mask helmet as Zaphiel himself, came within a couple of feet of the group. There was a short series of clicks, communication through internal helmet vox no doubt, and the helmet of the Crimson Fist turned to leer at the Iron Champion in their midst.

“Brother Cornelius is to go with Chaplain Azariah immediately,” he announced for clarification, the Iron Champion guided both by the robed and hooded Dark Angels Chaplain and his entourage of armed Chapter serfs.

For a moment the First Company Veteran simply watched them leave, knowing he would never see the freshly minted Deathwatch brother again.

“Well, Brother-Chaplain, if you will follow me.”

The walk to the Chaplain's chambers was one of silence and inner reflection, deliberately passing through the fortresses Reclusiam so that Zaphiel could get a sense of what his duties would entail later on, passing others of his distinguished rank from a dozen or more Chapters. They ceased their walking eventually, pushing down a corridor where it appeared that others had already come and halting at one of the identical doors.

“Only you can enter first, Brother.”

With a hiss the door slid upward and out of sight, revealing a perfectly identical chamber to those all around it, except for the inclusion of a small chapel in one corner; from the modest statuette of the God-Emperor hung the very Rosarius which the Chaplain sought.

“We have time before we gird ourselves for battle, is there anything else you would ask of me?”




@Zelosse@Andreyich

For the very first time since being presented to the newcomers the regal face of Cylaris twisted into something akin to an expression of genuine vexation, the aryan-looking Astartes moving forward until his own chest-piece pressed against that of Victar and his blue eyes looked unwaveringly at those of the Harbinger before him.

“Your pardon be damned,” he announced in his smooth voice, “there are few things I can stand, and disrespect is among them, as is a blatant disregard for ones betters.”

For a moment, and only a moment, the Ultramarine thought of striking this impudent whelp where he stood – it was only his own self restraint and unwillingness to damage what was now more or less the 'property' of the Deathwatch that held his fists.

“Speak to me in that manner again, and you will find yourself looking up at me from the floor.” It was no idle threat, but a promise, “you want to go to the armoury, new-blood? Then let us go.”

The armoury was closer to the hangar than one might think, and the long strides of the Space Marines carried them swiftly to the thrice-armoured doors of what was possibly the most valuable room in the fortress after a number of others; behind those closed doors were weapons of Imperial origin, xenos origin and even vaguer points of creation that were still unknown to the Deathwatch.

“Now we wait,” intoned the son of Macragge, for he was not going to let these fledglings inside the arsenal before the allotted time, such a thing would have been against all protocol and that was something that an Ultramarine could never break.
@CelticSoldier Not sure if my characters actions will be allowed by you, as in I'm not sure if it interferes with your next planned actions, but I've posted at least; if you were planning something else, I can easily edit it.
Listec muttered something in Tar-Eltharin as he loosed off three more arrows from his bow in rapid succession, lamenting the fact that these hairy-arsed Norscans were not the Druchii he would have preferred to have been fighting. Nevertheless, a raider was a raider and he was here at this moment in time; it was with professional interest that he watched the others fight, from the cleaving but proficient swings of Jehan to the more Tilean-like movements of Baltazar, pointedly ignoring the Dwarfs simply because he had seen them fight – and fought against them – many times before.

Before long the Marienburger was shouting something at those about him, rallying them and galvanising them against the brutal fore no less! His words seeming to steel the more wavering members of the ships crew, a call to drive the Norscans from the ship entirely and drive them back into the ocean.

Having been knelt down by the railing all this time, he only just realised that a possibly greater prize lay only a few feet over the sides...the Norscan longboat. All about him the Empire ship was beginning to sink, fire shining from the mast, and people spilling their lifeblood into the wood of the decks – yet just beyond their reach was a perfectly functional vessel, seaworthy and guarded by what remained of a skeleton crew now that most of the pirates had made their ways up and over onto the sodden deck.

Either this would see him cut off their retreat and secure them an escape craft, or it would see him dead...

Taking a number of slow breaths into his lungs and exhaling again, making sure the longbow was securely placed over his torso, he slid over the railing and began to make his way down to the deck of the Norscan ship, half dropping and half falling the final couple of feet but landing on the enemy vessel with barely a sound – this was due to both his natural agility and the raucous collective of screams, shouts and thunder all around them.

One look told him that he may have gotten into more of a problem than he could handle, the skeleton crew he had expected being over a dozen men, but their attention was drawn more to the battle above them than to the one figure half-swathed in gloom that came from the rear of their boat to end them.

The first died without a sound, a younger human with fuzzy hair upon his pubescent face, two arms coming up and wrenching his head about in a whip-like fashion, the sound of snapping vertebrae caught and carried away by the wind. Listec let the body slump to the curved floor of the ship, drawing his bastard-sword from the sheath at his waist and lowering it into what the Humans called a 'plow' stance – the hilt held near the hip joint and the tip pointing at the throats or chest of the enemy.

As it was he had a selection of backs turned toward him, and they would do just as well as anything else.
@Kratesis@Andreyich@jbeil@BCTheEntity

Yea, did a pretty big 'time leap', but hey-ho!

Feel free to write about your time on the ship and so forth - I shouldn't need to tell you, you're all great writers from what I can see.
@jbeil@Andreyich@BCTheEntity@Kratesis

Inquisitor Kliment looked at the assembled figures before him, his eyes scrutinising them from their heads to their toes, from the glistening trim of their pauldrons to the finally crafted weapons which each Sister bore; needless to say he was thoroughly impressed, the sight of the Amazonian-like giantess that was Sister Alexa causing an especial swell of his breast as it filled with pride in both the Order and the Imperium which he served. Each of the gathered Sisters were splendid servants of the Emperor in their own right, a worthy force to protect him as he went about his mission, yet there was no denying that more than a few of them seemed wet behind the ears - such things caused him little concern, but were never the less worthy of note.

Confessor Horacio another matter entirely, whilst he was a valued member of the blessed Ecclesiarchy - and indeed the only member that had answered the Inquisitors call for aid - he assuredly seemed somewhat out of shape for one of his elevated position. It was not uncommon for members of the holy church to become somewhat lax in their habits, some eating themselves into a more rotund form as Horacio appeared to have done whilst the worst of them slid deeper and deeper into excesses which no doubt lead to their inevitable fall to the heretical powers of Chaos. The look with which he studied The Inquisitor, although it would be more accurate to perceive it as a gaze into his very soul, told Kliment all he needed to know about the man below the surface.

"Sisters, and welcome brother of the Ecclesiarchy, it is with great regret that I could not have arrived here with more positive news! However since we are gathered here now, on the dawn of an endeavour that could see the very foundations of our faith shaken to the core, I believe that some explanation may be required - something not commonly done by The Emperor's Inquisition."

Rotating his head to the left, the Inquisitor allowed a crack of his vertebrae before fixing them all once more with his sturdy gaze.

"There is a rot within this sector, one that has been gnawing at the roots for quite some time, one that could involve organisations of the Imperium that would better be left alone. I cannot guarantee that all of you shall return alive, but you have my word that I shall do my utmost to make it so. We leave for Athega Tertius now, prepare thyself and follow me."




Just as they had been guided into the chamber by Victorine, they were now guided back out the way they had come and taken once more into the bowels of the Aquila Lander; one-by-one the some twenty-five warriors of the God-Emperor were strapped snugly back into their thrones, secured for take off and landing and any injury caused by either.

Kliment only realised that he had not really told them anything about their mission, having done so inadvertently but giving a mental shrug when he thought about it; there were some things which should be kept to oneself, even from those most loyal to the Throne. As an alternative he allowed himself to relax somewhat, his leather-tough face taking on a rather serene look as he enjoyed the hum of the void-crafts engines, his lids closing over piercing green eyes, and both hands resting in his lap.

It was not long though before the craft came to a juddering halt, a rush of thruster fire allowing it to hover and then gently hit the surface of the landing deck in a couple of smooth motions, swallowed into one of the various docking bays of the Firestorm-class Frigate Imperator Gracili Ferro - the Ferro was a black-painted and unmarked vessel of some twenty-five thousand crew and weighing at roughly six megatonnes, a potent weapon of the Imperium nearly two kilometres long from prow to stern that would see Kliment and his escort where they wished to go.

“Welcome aboard,” announced the Inquisitor with an opening of his arms, “I believe you were confined to the Lander the last time you were here.” It was not a question but a statement, “that is unfortunate, and we shall seek to remedy that immediately.”

As it turned out, chambers had been provided within the ships innards for every one of them, each containing a rough-but-usable bed, enough storage for ones weapons and armour, and a safe-like box in which one may place their most valuable possessions for the journeys ahead. Each Sister (and Mazzini) were shown to these chambers by personnel wearing uniforms as black as the outer skin of the ship, only a red '=][=' showing that they served the Inquisition and by connection Kliment himself. The portly Confessor was also shown the ships primary chapel, a place of contemplation and veneration to the God-Emperor where Ecclesiastic servants roamed with flaming braziers of incense and fire to bless the ship and the servants onboard.




The journey from Taniea Primus to Athega Tertius took nearly three weeks of travel, plenty of time for reflection, training and conversation between the Sisters and for the crew to get used to their overwhelming presence. Indentured into the Inquisition they may have been, but even they revered each one of the Sororitas as walking avatars of the Emperor's faith, bowing their heads as the female warriors passed and muttering prayers under their breath.

Once the ship tore from the empyrean and back into realspace, the Navigator of the vessel having made their calculations as accurately as possible and achieving them with extreme precision, Athega could be seen like a giant blackened orb hovering in the depths of space from any of the view-ports dotting the ship.

Athega Tertius was one of seven planets but was only one of three inhabited or habitable at all, it would be considered a 'Hive World' by Imperial cartographers, but under the leadership of Governor Heidric Von Behner it had also taken on many aspects of a Forge World as well, producing materials and vessels required by the Imperium, as well as sending the worst of its population out into space to be massacred among the ranks of the Guard. The atmosphere was almost entirely made up of a thick smog, filtration systems in the main Hive spires allowing the worst of it to be filtered from the upper levels, but many under-dwellers dying by the thousands due to the greed and disregard of their betters.

Inquisitor Kliment selected half of the Sisters and Confessor Mazzini, taking them down to the planets surface in full armour and equipped with their entire armament, with Alexandra, Vitruvia and Lisbeth among them. During the interim between launching from his Frigate and landing atop the uppermost landing platform of the largest, highest, spire on the planets main continent – so high that the tip actually pierced the atmosphere! - he made certain to instruct them all on what to expect.

Dressed as he was in a suit of golden-inscribed Ignatus-pattern power armour of his own, making him seem broader and taller by far, the grey-haired Inquisitor flexing his gauntlets and tapping his fingers against the helmet in his lap, he assured them that he did not expect them to encounter violence but that one could never be too prepared.

“Von Behner is a rather frightened old man,” he confided in them all as they moved through space, “not only because he fears the other members of his family aim to usurp him, which may well be true, but because he has no idea what it happening in the lower levels of his domain. When one loses control of ones territories, well, it is correct to fear such things as rebellion or insurrection from the lower depths.”

He paused to eye each of the twelve Sororitas and the Confessor before continuing, as if weighing them each in some unfathomable and unseen way.

“I am here, as are you, because I have received reports of Chaotic activity...rumours mostly, but worth investigation none the less. The Governor believes we are simply visiting for a state visit, to see his Hive and to see to the purity of his people, and in this we must indulge him. If you have anything to voice, I suggest you do it now, we land in minutes.”
@Necroes That is entirely up to you, really; you want him to speak space-English, then so be it...if you want him to be unintelligible to everyone else, then that's also fine but will present difficulties. Choice is your's.
In my day we just ran around in fields like cows!


I'm not that old, but remember doing just that as well.

Anyway, next post will be up tomorrow, I'll get everything going and then on to exciting thingsssss.
Posts be up tomorrow, yo.
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