Status

Recent Statuses

11 days ago
Busy times at work, so to all my players/writers, I'll be back on soon!
2 likes
16 days ago
RIGHT! Tomorrow is going to be my writing day (on the blood of my ancestors), so please be patient until then.
2 mos ago
Why wear loincloths when you can go commando?
1 like

Bio

Greetings,

I am Jbcool (known as McScottish on the Total War Centre); Scotsman by birth, roleplayer by my own hand, and lover of literature. I am also an amateur historian, a reciever 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

@Wraithblade6@Necroes@Klomster@Sophrus@BCTheEntity

I'm always here...

Two questions before I post though;

1) What do we think should be done with the Apothecary et al? I could just annihilate them, or puppet them, or something else, what do people think?

2) Can I just get a quick confirmation of where everybody is on the ship? People are popping up all over the place, so I'm a bit confused.
I'm here, Rogal, and I'll get a post up. Haven't abandoned it.
@Bright_Ops Any specific ones? And good first post, where are they heading methinks?
@BCTheEntity@Sophrus Both fine, I look forward to it.
@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.
@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.

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

@Bright_Ops@Sophrus@Ollumhammersong@BCTheEntity@Eisenhorn

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