Jb

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content] [Seeking Heretics!]

@Bright_Ops Any specific ones? And good first post, where are they heading methinks?

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content] [Seeking Heretics!]

@BCTheEntity@Sophrus Both fine, I look forward to it.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content] [Seeking Heretics!]

@Bright_Ops@Sophrus@Ollumhammersong@BCTheEntity@Eisenhorn@Hank

In case anyone wants them, I do have PDF's of the various Black Crusade books (as well as the god-specific ones), and it is from these that many things will be based; if you'd like a copy then I can send a link to you via PM.

If anyone else wishes to join, please say so now, before we get properly moving...although you could still probably join anyway.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content] [Seeking Heretics!]

@Bright_Ops@Sophrus@Ollumhammersong@BCTheEntity@Eisenhorn

Hive World of Ephron Five - ca. 020.M31, The Great Scouring

The very chamber itself shook with the shock-waves of explosive bombardment, rockcrete powder and shards of jagged metal dropping onto the kneeling figure below with little noticeable affect; for days, weeks, months even, the huge individual had interred himself within the darkened chamber beneath the lowest levels of the Ephron Hive without food or drink or contact with the outside world, and there he had remained ever since. In this period, when the galaxy was being torn apart by brutal reprises from Loyalist and Traitor forces alike, one more person was largely ignored; this was one 'man' who should not have been.

He was Ar Khanata, a native of Colchis and an Astartes of the XVII Legion, the so-called 'Word Bearers', a Battle-Brother who had fought to bring worlds and entire systems into the fold of Imperial Compliance, but now sought only to record the dictates of his Primarch Lorgar and the deities of the dark pantheon he followed.

Spread all about him in heaps and scattered here and there, the room empty save for the materials - parchment, dataslates and auto-quills mostly - that he required to finish his abominable task, were the fractured segments of four tomes. Each tome was dedicated to one of the four Ruinous Powers, mere quarters of a scheme toward apotheosis that he would never be able to complete...they were coming for him.

How they had discovered his whereabouts he did not know, all the Dark Apostle did know was that the Loyalist Astartes, his former comrades-in-arms, would show him and the planet on which he had chosen to abide not the slightest hint of quarter or mercy. The sprawling Hive City would be cleansed and most probably re-populated with loyal Imperial citizens, possibly even families of Terran stock, families that would never support Chaos of even the idea of it. Then, ten-thousand years from now, they would no doubt rise to become the ruling overlords of Ephron V and the very name of Horus would be gone forever.

Muttering passes from the Book of Lorgar to himself, one large fist scraping at the skin of his scalp where he had taken to writing heretical verses in imitation of his daemonic Primarch.

"Changing....last of the loyal...tr-true..." he was beginning to lose his concentration, to lose his very mind, only his superhuman physiology having allowed him to contain the raw energies being directed at him from the Immaterium for this long, "mussst finisssh," his eyes began to twitch and blood to flow freely from his ears, blocking out the continuing sound of Imperial bombardment, "I am coming, masters, I am coming!" In one motion he sat bolt-upright, flinging open his arms in time for three figures to enter the chamber.

"Shoot him!" Roared one of the Astartes aggressors, the blue and white of the Ultramarines illuminated by what little light there was in the cell, "we cannot allow him to live." A quick gesture bought the other pair of Marines into the cell, a flamer held in the clutches of one, and without a word he unleashed a raging inferno into a room hardly big enough for the four of them.

"You are too late, you fools!" Spat the once-loyal warrior of darkness, even as the promethium-fuelled flames began to strip away his blackening flesh, "so it is written, so shall it be done, as the Gods are my witnesses."

Before long he was naught but a pile of ash, the room forever scorched black, sealed by the Ultramarines upon their leaving of the planet; yet they were too late, for the texts which the heretic had been writing had been sent out into the ether at the very last moment. Even now, others - psykers, traitors and the insane - would be reproducing his works...yes, Ar Khanata would live on.

---

Hive World of Ephron Five - Present Day

Time had passed as it always did, and the fifth planet of Ephron did become an Imperial asset once more, supplying regiments for the Imperial Guard at regular intervals and generally paying substantial tithes to the Imperium and - as the traitor had first predicted - those descendants of the Terran colonists, the famililies to resettle its population centres after the initial cleansing by the Ultramarines, were now the highest and mightiest on the face of the planet.

What had happened on the planet during the Great Scouring, as with most everything about and immediatly after the Horus Heresy, had been abolished from Imperial records - even the Planetary Governor had no idea that his world had once been infested with the taint of Chaos, or that a powerful servant of their's had written four of the most blasphemous texts formerly known to the Imperium of Man somewhere in this very city.

Over time they had managed to track down and destroy every copy...or so they believed.

A time of change was coming to the Hive World, a time when things would be turned upon there head and the highest would become the lowest, when the pauper would become a king, and when the Corpse-Emperor would know the wrath of a planet in which the seed of heresy had been planted ten-thousand years ago.

When all four are bought as one, when all are bought together, there shall be no force in this realm of mortal man that can stop them from ascending to greatness - blood shall flow, lust shall ensnare, the weak shall grow sick and die, and change will come to all. O' weak and foolish servants of a false God, do you not see? You are as nothing, and to nothing you shall return, to pain, despair and torture for all eternity. The loyal and true shall inherit all.

PLEASE READ!

First off, thank you all for waiting, I appreciate your patience and will try to make it worth your while.

Second, if everyone could get there own posts up within three, four days at the most, that would also be appreciated; I did ask for dedicated participants, so don't make me kill anyone off right at the start.

With regards to the RP itself:

As you may have gathered, there are, possibly on the Hive World itself - possibly not...- four great tomes of power, one dedicated to each of the Chaos Gods, authored by a Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers. When bought together something happens, although no-one really knows, not even the guy who wrote them! Just did as he was told, really.

For now, please feel free to post up an introductory post for your characters, just another day in the Hive; they can more-or-less be doing what they like, until I herd them together through the magic of plot devices.

Do they knows about the tomes? If so, how much do they know? Do you even want them to have prior knowledge? Why are they on the planet in the first place, what/who has bought them there in the first place?

If they/you wish to interact with any NPC's, I'm happy to take on various roles (I am GM after all), so feel free to do that as well, or write them yourselves - just remember to ask me first, so that I can tell you what they know and so on.

I'll probably get a list of important people, locations and so on up at some point, but it's early days for now.

Aaaany questions, please post them in the OOC tab.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content] [Seeking Heretics!]

Atella was not always how she would later become, in fact she was very far from it!

Ernst Rutledge had originally been a Sergeant within a Praetorian regiment, part of a much larger crusade to reclaim a lost system near the fringes of Imperial space that had recently broken away from the Emperor's light. The man himself was tall and sturdy, his jawline squared and usually with a peppering of stubble, his sandy blonde hair kept neat and short beneath his standard-issue pith helmet, and his broad-shouldered body kept in peak physical condition through constant training; needless to say he was a hit with the ladies, commonly found to be having relationships with women of other regiments but rarely penalised for it, on the contrary he found himself offered more shots of amasec than he knew what to do with.

Glory in the front line of the reclamation crusade was not to be his however, for he was wounded in combat and sent to recuperate with a number of other Guardsmen, their transport heading for one of the worlds farthest away from the fighting; the 'Garden World' of Salmacis was said to be one of peace, relaxation, and and known haven for wounded warriors seeking recuperation before heading back 'up the line' and into the meat grinder once more.

The stalwart Praetorian had not taken serious injuries, being back on his feet and without any major scarring within a couple of weeks, soon back up and practising his drills outside the largest hospital of the planets capital city. Such activities were not uncommon and, as far as he was concerned, he would be back in the fight within the next week or so...but this would never happen.

“Sergeant Ernst Rutledge of the Praetorian LXXXII went AWOL on the Garden World of Salmacis during a period of convalescence after suffering of injuries in combat. This is a disgrace to the regiment, and a permanent stain on the record of an otherwise exemplary NCO.”

So read the official statement issued by the Munitorum – the true story is more complex, and much weirder.

Garden Worlds are also called 'Pleasure Worlds' for a reason, and indeed it would not be a surprise to scholars of arcane lore to find that a Pleasure World is usually a good haven for a pleasure cult; in the case of Salmacis there was already a cult dedicated to Naedea – a local deity with a light side and a dark side, the dark side being a simple covering for the true divinity behind the name, Slaanesh – the servants of the God and cult members of all classes constantly on the lookout for fresh flesh.

It was during one of his practises, a wooden lasgun clutched in his hands, the waning light of dusk setting in, that Ernst was assailed by cudgel-bearing figures swathed in silken robes. Although a proficient fighter, and able to fend them off for no small amount of time, his bruised skin, split lips and bloodied skull were the aftermath of what was a most determined struggle.

Bound and gagged, swaddled tightly in silk lashes at his wrists and ankles, he awoke to a circle of chanting acolytes gathered about an ancient natural spring. Looking this way and that, but staring mostly at the dripping ceiling, it appeared that he was in the cities sewage system; it was at this point that he dropped his head in acceptance, for he would never be found if these murmuring citizens did not wish him to be.

A sudden pause in the vocalisations allowed for the approach of eight or so hooded people, strong arms lifting him onto their shoulders, his acceptance turning to another struggle as he realised he was being taken toward the luminous water source. Hovering just above it, his captors turning him to face feet-first, he prayed silently to the God-Emperor and fell.

Water tinged with a lucent brightness surrounded him and consumed him, the Praetorian unable to do anything to stop himself getting closer to the bottom of the surprisingly deep spring, and just as he thought he was about to die was when Slaanesh decided that such a specimen was of more value to Her alive than as just another corpse.

---

What awoke from within those waters was not the same as that which had entered them, slipping their narrowed from easily from the bonds – bonds tight enough to hold a man, but loosened by the transformation that had overtaken their captive – the sylphlike sacrifice powered through the depth and surfaced in a splash of water; what emerged was a figure of over average female height, slender with wiry and visible muscles, the lean musculature of an athlete or a martial artist...or a stripper, and a face that was both male and female at the same time and yet neither at all - full lips and high cheekbones that were distinctly feminine, but with a more squared jawline and a dimpled chin applicable to a male - glacial blue eyes looking out from beneath arched eyebrows and set on either side of a pointed nose, and a small pair of horns peeking from long hair or darkest black.

This was the beginning of a new life, a rebirth in the vision of her patron deity, the old ways and the God-Emperor cast aside and forgotten.

Atella was born, and Ernst was dead.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content] [Seeking Heretics!]

Okie dokie y'all, gonna get the first post up tomorrow...then the chaos can begin.

@Bright_Ops@Sophrus@Ollumhammersong@BCTheEntity@Eisenhorn

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

So, still waiting on @Canoli, @Synthorian, @Tsar Gatto, @Bishop and @FoxFire if they decide to post a sheet.

Everyone else is fine, and I'll get round to replying to posts tomorrow.

Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)

@Cash78 Sorry for the 3 day gap, but if you're still interested then I think we could use a sawbones.

WARHAMMER 40K: THE TARSON INCURSION

Three hours it had been...three long and gruelling hours of subtle and cautious work, something that Nergüi was unused to but not incapable of. An Astartes could come through most things, a bone merely needing to be reset before it healed, or a wound simply closed by any means necessary for the bleeding to stop, but mortals such as the one he now peered at upon the metal table were fragile things so easily broken.

“Corporal,” murmured the Marine, his oddly fatherly eyes looking into the wide and blinking ones of the young man beneath his scalpel, “you have fought well and the Emperor knows your name, he bids you go to his right hand. Would you like that?”

Corporal La'shard had been cloven by an Ork 'choppa', his wound was mortal and would have become infected even with medical aid, his uniform – once so neat and clean – was covered in his own blood, his trousers filled with his own excrement, his flesh as white as ivory. Still, with what strength was left to him, the soldier managed to give a nod of his head and in doing so accepted his fate.

“Good, then rest now; our Lord shall welcome you with open arms.”

The scalpel, which looked like a sewing needle in the huge fists of the living weapon, moved in an almost leisurely motion to end the Corporals life and drag him into the void forever. No, not forever, for the Emperor called all those loyal to him to his side...or so many believed.

“How many are left?” Questioned the Apothecary, having heard the Doctor coming from across the room, his eyes remaining on those of the dead Guardsmen even as he spoke.

“We're nearly done here, and more will live because than would not have – I'd say it's a miracle.”

A slight twinge moved the Chogorians mouth into a grimace, “it is no miracle, Doctor, you and your assistants need only believe in yourself and you can do as I have done.” While this was not entirely true, if it caused the medical staff to work more proficiently and with greater determination – facing the ravages of fatigue and self doubt head on – then he would say anything.

“There was something else?”

“Aye, it seems your chief is asking for you, she wants you back at the command room.”

There was a small grunt and a stretching of oversized limbs from the Astartes, a curiously human gesture for one who did not truly tire, “she is not my 'chief', Doctor. My only chief is Khajog Khan and the Great Khan himself.”

Although he had no idea what any of that meant, the Doctor gave a nod as Nergüi made to leave the infirmary – the route between there and the command centre implanted firmly into his memory – watching as the helmet slid back over those almost feline-like features and silently wishing him luck before he went back to his patients.

---

“Sister Celestian,” he stated by way of greeting, his targeting runes flickering over the battle-hardened form of the Sister before him as he closed the gap between them, “I assume you have new orders for us?”

It was true that he was an Apothecary – one who had to save lives rather than take them, who was sworn to protect his brothers and to bring the progenoid gland home – but since his inception into the Deathwatch, a casual glance at his blackened gauntlet reminding him of that, he had had to slay things that many alive today did not even know existed. Some of the things he had seen...some of the things he had done.

Inside he was still a hunter, a son of Chogoris and a warrior, and that same thrill now began to run through his veins; he sensed there would be action of a sort, could feel it in the air as a cat or dog could sense impending disaster, and it excited him as alcohol intoxicates or drugs stimulate.

On the outside he was as calm as a cup of water, but within he was what he had always been, a weapon of the Emperor of Mankind and an Angel of Death.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP [Black Crusade Inspired] [Mature Content] [Seeking Heretics!]

Not just yet, @Jbcool! I'm writing up my submission right now.

EDIT: Actually nevermind, I'm about to go on vacation and I have a few roleplays on my plate already. Any chance I can join this later?

@Hank

If you actually come back then yes, you can join later.