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3 yrs ago
5 yrs ago
Roleplay man, roleplay man, does whatever a roleplay can. Does he write? Not at all. He brings plots to a stall, look out... He’s a fucking ghost.
18 likes
6 yrs ago
I hate websites that tell you an email is wrong whilst you're trying to type it out. CALM YOUR TITS, I'VE NOT PUT IN THE FUCKING @ ADDRESS YET, NO SHIT IT'S NOT VALID.
16 likes
7 yrs ago
Does anyone else see a word spelt totally correctly and think 'that can't be fucking right, I've messed something up.'
23 likes
7 yrs ago
When life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don’t want your damn lemons, what the hell am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life’s manager!
19 likes

Most Recent Posts

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I'll poke my head in so I can see what others are making when the time comes.


As Hera walked, her brain slowly ticked through the threats that the teams she had designated would have to fight their way through. Firstly, was the hive itself. The palace assault at least had the advantage of occuring in the upper hive- thin atmosphere aside, it was the most accomodating to wage war in. Her research detailed a powerfully armed, but not particularly well trained group of enforcers- they had all been pulled from the largest and most prosperous of gangs. Foolishness on the part of the governor, but intelligent in the fact that they would all be intimitely familiar with the most brutal of combat. Not to mention, with all of them wearing flak armour and carrying autoguns, they could give the guardsmen a run for their money... As long as their chain of command held.

Of course, that was why she had dispatched another squad to handle that particular issue. A ten year old girl and a one year old baby boy wouldn't pose anything more than a speedbump to a squad of assassins, even if they were being protected by a retinue of bodyguards, and, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, even if the boy was stimmed and modified to high heaven, she doubted he would last more than a moment against even the temple neophytes. The lasguns of the guard would hold back any who sought to interfere; this was not a mission that would fail.

The skitarii though... A different breed. She couldn't predict them as well, and that made her nervous. They seemed faithful enough and competent enough that she needn't worry, but the priests of the Red Planet were not exactly the sort to be easily teased apart. She'd need to keep a very, very close eye on them, especially considering how crucial this mission was. Those melta torpedoes, if they were still on-world, could raze half the city to the ground if they fell into the wrong hands. Hands such as the gangs she had sent the sororitas and tempestus to dispatch.

Now, that should be a task that she needn't have to worry about.

As her neophyte and his retinue arrived, she would straighten her back, extending a single black-gloved hand out towards the docking port she was standing next to. "Stanislaus and co. Excellent timing." Was she being sarcastic or not? Difficult to tell. Rapping her knuckles against the wall, she let out a humourless smile. "Your mission will be unique, in that it will not be on the planet at all. There is a space station. Very similar to this one, except far more... Technically minded. I do not know who is on it, nor what condition it is in, thus, you will be outfitted with voidsuits for this mission. What I do know however, is that I want it either under my control, or if that's not possible, sent careening into the planet below to burn up. Your method of entry is going to be a breaching torpedo. Any further questions?"
Hovering bailout. Not the first one she had ever participated in. Adjusting her cap slightly, she would give her commsbead a tap to activate it, before her hands would reach down to her thigh and triple-check her power sword was secure in its couplings. As the bay doors opened up she would straighten her back, the people seated closer to the door bailing out rapidly. She would follow. A hand on the brim of her cap, she sprinted towards the door, and just as she was about to leave, stopped and pencil dropped out.

Carapace armour was much touger than the usual flak armour, and its impact-dissipaiting properties worked especially well when pitted against blunt force trauma. Turning her knees to the ground, the captain would assess the battlefield in the brief moment of weightlessness before she made contact with the blood soaked mud, before sucking in a breath as the contact with the ground rippled through her entire body. Looking around, she spotted her squad hunkering down in a crater and nodded to herself. Good. A solid defensive position. Ripping her bolt pistol from her holster, she burst forward, boots squelching slightly in the mud, before crouching down in the middle of the crater.

"Are you cold Corporal?" She said towards Tharn, grabbing the vox's microphone from his back and wiping some of the mud away from it. "No? Then stop shaking and hold your rifle steady, by the Emperor." Shaking her head, she pressed the broadcast button- the squad's commsbeads lighting up as she did so.

"Listen up! You may have had a rough landing you may have already seen your comrades die, but now is not the time to baulk in the face of adversity. We did not cross the bloodied fields of Vernum to cower here today! Reform your squads, reestablish your chain of command and wherever you see the banner of our regiments, rally to them! Show these bastards what true servants of the Emperor can do!"

She removed her finger, head whirling around. "Where's that damn fool fake Cadian and the voidsman?"
Bump
Had Oscuro not frozen, had Miss Murder capitalised on the sudden crippling of the solidiers that advanced on them, perhaps the flow of the fight would have entirely reversed in that brief moment... But as it was, the strikeback was disjointed and fragmented. Although the dancer was caught off guard- Through The Barriacde rushing first to defend Reaper's stand user from Taras' bullets, and then swirling backwards in a flurry of fabric to try and defend her, it was a fraction of a second too slow, The splinters of brick slashing her face superficially, but painfully. Growling, a single droplet of blood staining her previously pristine dress, she would roar her displeasure... And an order.

"ENOUGH MESSSING AROUND TILL. BUTCHER THEM."

"YOU'LL HAVE TO SETTLE FOR ME." Reaper's response was gutteral and barely understandable- its frothing rage having clearly reached its peak. As Chloe stumbled backwards and onto her rear, the stand would slam both of its arms downwards like an ape, those same 'precuts' marking the passing of his fists. When Ritz' legs slammed into Reaper's legs they would find themselves slamming into a brick wall, the only responde to be a slight buckling from the emaciated figure's knees. Ducking to one side, it would avoid the thrown bottle, merely letting out an incoherent scream in response to her insult.

As it contiued its stalk foward, one of Reapers's arms would lance out; grabbing a glass from the table and hurling it and its contents at the nervous-faced dancer. Any of the stray droplets that made contact with the woman or her stand would rip their way through her flesh, as lethal as any knife, parting skin and cloth as the rivulets ran down.

Meanwhile, Oscuro now found Miss Murder pressed upon by two seperate, albeit slowed, German stands. Their wooden arms swung towards her, slow, but it didn't take a genius to realise that those chunky fists would leave a terrible impact on her stand if they landed. Taras, meanwhile, found himself bearing the attention of the dancer, who would load her luger and return fire on him, her stand running forward, backflipping over a table as it did so.


Standing on the viewing platform of the orbital station she was on, Hera would look down at the planet below her and sigh. Why the governor had thought this view was worth building a whole platform for, she would never know. All she saw as she looked down at the sprawling greysacape was the plumes of smoke and ash, the disgusting refuse of the worst of humanity and the heretics, mutants and witches that all scurried across Yunnalin V’s surface. “Pathetic,” she would mutter, turning from the scene and walking out of the room. The auto-door slid closed behind her, her footfalls muffled by the fineries she had yet to tear down.

It didn’t take her long for her to reach the brain of her latest operation. What had been the most degenerate room in the entire craft had been stripped barren and made anew- the chrome filed down, the hedonistic goods inside jettisoned to burn up in the atmosphere below and an icon of the Emperor set up, watching over the occupants as they went about their work. The Holo-Projector had been mounted in the centre of the room, a swivelling chair placed in front of it, and a servitor slaved to it, whilst elsewhere in the room cables snaked to new screens and machines carefully watched over by a techpriest.

As she sat down next to the Holo-Projector, the servitor would turn its head to her. “I live. To Serve.”

“Begin recording. Open communication lines to all contingents sent to me so far.” She would wait a moment as the servitor’s cogitators sent their commands to the techpriest for confirmation, and then settle in as it’s eye sparked to life, images of the yet-to-be-established connections between herself and the various individuals that had come to her summons. One by one their faces would pop up- Magos Eldarian Null first, Rapidly followed by Vindicare XXIII, then Justicar Hektor Autark, followed by Sister Superior Sabine, and lastly the Tempestus and Militarium officers.

Hera would look at the holo-projector in front of her, pause briefly to smooth out one of her eyebrows, and then opened her mouth and begun to speak. “Greetings Imperial forces. My thanks for your rapid and consummately professional arrivals considering the nature of my request. Our work here is only beginning, and although I do not expect all of you to survive, know that there is no higher calling than martyrdom in the name of the Emperor.” She waited for her words to settle, before continuing.

“The first order of business is to establish a planet-side base of operations from which we can use as a staging ground for further operations. Such a place must be located in the Upper Hive, must be large enough to quarter a significant number of personnel, and most importantly, must be easily defensible.” She would swish a gloved hand through the air, the servitor detecting the motion and automatically changing the projection from her face to a map of the city.

“There is one particular place that fits these three criterium perfectly. Although the now-deceased planetary governor spent most of his time aboard the orbital station I am currently located in, he also had a number of residences based in each of the Hive Cities planetside. Under normal circumstances, simply moving into these and requisitioning them would be remarkably easy what with the governor dead, however, unfortunately, our job will be made harder for a number of reasons. Let it never be said that the Emperor’s work was easy.”

“Firstly, the estate is well guarded by enforcers loyal to the planetary elite still. Justicar Hektor, it will be your duty, and no doubt your pleasure, to know that you are to be the one to dispatch them. Give them no quarter- they chose their side when they refused to lay down their arms after the execution of the old governor. Disobeying the Inquisition is heresy, and the wages of heresy is death. The guard will be accompanying you, to provide as both backup and to screen away any civilians from getting involved.

“The defence is being led by the governor’s eldest male child, Target Alpha.” Never refer to assassination targets by their name; whilst her wetwork operatives might be deadened to human empathy, she alas had to work to prevent her from feeling sympathy from these heretics. “Also there are a younger female, Target Beta, and an even younger male, Target Gamma. All of them need eradication. Assassins, this task falls to you. If the defenders are being particularly stubbon, use them to break the siege, but by the time my boots reach the planet, all three of them should no longer be breathing. Show no mercy; even the youngest of this accursed line are guilty.” The projector had transformed into images of the three targets, labelled just as the Inquisitor had said them to be.

“Secondly, we have learned that there is a Foundry in the Hive that, according to Mechanicus records, once housed Melta Torpedoes. It is imperative that these weapons do not fall into the hands of any that might use them against us. Magos Null, the duty of your Skitarii begins. Find your fallen brethren, give them the Omnissiah’s peace, and recover any instruments of destruction they may have forged. When you are complete in your duty, the manor should be clear and ready for the weapons to be housed. Their protection and eventual usage falls to you, Magos.

“Sisters and Brothers of the Ecclesiarchy and Tempestus, your duties are less monumental yet no less essential. Like every wretched Hive, Hive IV has no shortage of gangs. Your duties will be to expunge two of the most powerful. Reduce their quarters to rubble and their men to slag. The power vacuum left behind should leave the gangs too focused on clawing at each other to launch an assault on our new base of operations. Further specifics will be communicated to you after this message.” The image retuned to that of her face. “Lastly, ladies, gentleman and magos, your thought of the day. It is by the manner of their death that you will know the heretic, the mutant, and the xenos.”

The message cut out. Standing from the seat, the servitor mindlessly babbling a “farewell, Inquisitor,” she would raise a finger to the commsbead within her ear and tap it twice, cycling through channels.

“Stanislaus. Prepare your retinue and report to the shuttle bay of this ship. You have another chance to prove yourself to the Emperor. I will explain once you arrive.”
@Roland

Hop on the Discord!



“Inquisitor Hera, what a pleasure to see you again, may I perhaps interest you in so-“ Before the simpering elderly governor could finish his sentence the sizzling snap of a hot-shot laspistol had finished it for him. The stench of burnt bacon emanated from the gaping hole in his cheek, the indistinct scent of seared brain matter and cremated bone following. A cauterised hole was left in the man’s temple, and the Inquisitor would step over the body, ignoring the screams of the man’s harem of equally simpering women. Her audio-dampeners would kick in as an astartes-sized boltgun opened up, the red-armoured marine turning and saluting to her once the job was done.

“Thank you, Captain. Please ensure that nobody disturbs me as I send this missive out. Techpriest, if you will.” The leather gloves of the Inquisitor would point towards the obscenely chrome panel in front of her, before reaching up to her hat and adjusting it slightly. She preferred it ‘rakishly askew,’ not ‘almost toppling off.’ She would watch as a mechandrite extended out towards one of the interface ports, and within a minute she was being offered a microphone. She would lick her lips, clear her throat and then begin.

“Attention all Imperial citizens. Hive IV of Yunnalin V has now officially been declared Damnatio, on the orders of the Ordo Hereticus of the Inquisition. Any found to be willingly consorting with members of Hive IV will be subject to the severest of punishments. As for those wretched souls within the hive, may the Emperor have mercy upon your souls, for I shall have none.”

Thus, it was set. She had condemned 7.3 billion lives to death; but alas, she could not do so with the practised precision of an orbital barrage. The people in the hive might still be wretched and corrupt, but the Inquisition’s interest in the place had not yet ended, and so it was that when her flagship’s batteries opened up, it was only to destroy those rich and foolish enough to try to escape the Ordo’s wrath by simply flying away. Sparks of red; barely recognisable as life-ending explosions from the office she was currently in, would pinprick the planet below her, and then she would turn back to the console.

“Attention attention, all Imperial forces that can hear this message. On order of the God-Emperor’s own Holy Inquisition I am requisitioning any forces that can be spared for a series of vital operations to expunge perfidy and treachery within the wretched Hive IV of Yunnalin V. Failure to respond to this message will be considered as a failure to submit to the Inquisition’s own orders, and punished as such. I thank you for your assistance, and the God-Emperor Protects.”




Thought of the day: Nobody is innocent, there are merely varying levels of guilt.





Welcome to the Emperor's Duty, otherwise known as Pyrework. (Link to Discord.) This will be a roleplay set in the Grim Darkness of the 41st Millenia, as a mixed assortment of Imperial forces carry out a number of vital activities in a Hive City for one Inquisitor Hera. Guide your soldiers well, eternally watch for the heresy that surrounds you and show no mercy, and you may live to fight another day.

Rules:


  • Follow Guild Rules.
  • Respect Your Fellows.
  • My Word Is Final.

Character Sheet:


This will be a little unusual, what with the fact that you're not only making a character sheet for you PoV character, but also the squadron that they lead. In terms of how many soldiers you'll be able to take, ultimately I'll need to discuss with you, but the general gist of it will be that any faction that primarily uses flak armour (or worse) such as the Frateris Militia, Imperial Guard or PDF have an upper limit of 20 or so troops. Factions that use carapace armour, such as Tempestus Scions, Skitarii, Adeptus Arbites and their ilk have an upper bounds of roughly 15 troops, and elite factions such as Sisters of Battle and Assassins have an upper bounds ranging between 10 for factions such as the Sisters, or even less for even more elite forces. Space Marines and Custodes are not permitted.

Faction Name:
Force Name:
Leader Name:
Leader Bio:
Direct Superior:
Troop Count:
Extraordinary Troops:
Extraordinary Equipment:
Why Were They Selected:
Relationships:


- With Inquisitor Hera
- With the Adeptus Arbites
- With the Adepta Sororitas
- With the Adeptus Tempestus
- With the Assassins
- With the Astra Militarum
- With the Skitarii




Thought of the day: The Mutant bears his heresy on the outside, the Traitor hides it in his Soul.











“Attention attention, all Imperial forces that can hear this message. On order of the God-Emperor’s own Holy Inquisition I am requisitioning any forces that can be spared for a series of vital operations to expunge perfidy and treachery within the wretched Hive IV of Yunnalin V. Failure to respond to this message will be considered as a failure to submit to the Inquisition’s own orders, and punished as such. I thank you for your assistance, and the God-Emperor Protects.”
-Inquisitor Hera, M41


Hail folks, and welcome to another jaunt into the 41st Millenium. What with 9th Edition coming out shortly, and my appetite for the setting at an all time high, let's get right into this new RP that I've been pondering for a while. The core of the RP would be very simple- a Hive World needs purging, but can't be orbitally bombarded for various reasons. With the entire hive descending into anarchy and chaos, select teams responding to the missive of Inquisitor Hera are sent in to the city, to carry out high-stakes operations.

In this RP, you'll take control of a "gang" of soldiers, similar to Specialist games like Kill Team and Neromunda. Although Space Marines are a no-go and Sisters of Battle will be severely restricted in power level, pretty much all other Imperial forces are allowed; Skitarii, Frateris Militia, Arbites, Guardsmen, Assassins, and anything else you can reasonably come up with.

Interested? Join the discord!
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