Necroes

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Welp, my post is up. If it makes Urgrugg sound arrogant, it's because he is.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

The warp is a strange place. In it, reality is literally a matter of perception. Through it, those from the material world can use its unique properties to travel distances of millions of light years, in a matter of moments. It is with that technology that the Imperium of Man is able to maintain what little grasp it still has on the galaxy it calls home. Warp engines, the incredible machines that make such travel possible, are notoriously rare for those outside of the military. They are available, of course. The vast network of merchants and rogue traders that use them to sell their good across the galaxy could not exist without those machines. As a general rule, though, the drives themselves are massive, and are generally only available on the largest crafts.

That being said, 'Ow'd dese 'ummie gits find a fing like dis?!' Urgrugg asked himself, as he looked at the small vessel. At most, maybe ten crew members could travel in it. There would not be enough room for rations, equipment, and general supplies for more than that. Yet, somehow, it was not only capable of warp travel, but even had its own gellar field system. How a group of seven random fools had managed to not only get their hands on such a prize, but keep it, was simply astonishing. It was also extremely fortunate for Urgrugg.

His time among humans had been educational, to say the least. While he had no idea how any of the systems worked, he understood the general concept and purpose of most of the parts of a standard spacecraft. As he was an ork, people constantly found his intelligence amazing. It was always obvious when a potential client-their word, not his-sought him out, and had never before met an ork. His size, looks, clothing, voice; it all seemed to confirm their beliefs about his race. One he began actually speaking to them, though, very few let that first impression poison their view of him for long. While it had taken time, he had learned much among the humans, and had taken quite well to using that knowledge.

This particular group, however, was an oddity. Usually, when people sought him out, it was because they were desperate. As an ork, he was a powerful combatant, and no small amount of his work came from acting as a bodyguard or mercenary. As a psyker, though, he was much more. People came from constellations away to find him. A for-profit, unregulated psyker was an extreme rarity in the Imperium, and it made him a very valuable employee. However, it also made him dangerous. Much like himself, others tended to rely on the powers of the warp only when necessary. When they came to him, it was important. He had helped with everything from removing curses, to enchanting equipment, and had even been hired as a navigator for a warp-capable ship.

These people, though, were different. For one, they were not desperate. They had their own psyker already, one who acted as their navigator on his own. Second, their goal was purely one for profit; they were willing to risk an attack by daemons all for a chance to make money. Finally, and most disturbingly, they were not merchants. Much like himself, these people were mercenaries, and had come to him with the soul intent of using him as a weapon.

None of that mattered, of course. Urgrugg saw these people as a convenience, after all. While they were completely unaware, he knew why they were so driven to reach their goal. He had felt it, himself, and new what it meant. Someone, or something, had created a signal in the warp. To most, it was nothing. A certain few, like these seven, felt it a bit stronger, though. For them, it was a tug, a pull towards something, and they just happened to be both unlucky enough to know what that something was, and possess the means to get to it. Like them, Urgrugg felt that same tug. Unlike them, he knew he was being manipulated, and had no intention of stumbling head-first into a trap. Of course, that didn't mean he was simply going to avoid a chance at a good fight. What sort of ork would he be if he did a crazy thing like that?

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Looks like we have everything we need for a traditional, sci-fi/fantasy roleplay. We've got a tank, a caster, a damage dealer, a rogue, and a mechanic.

... Who's flying the ship again?

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@DepressedSoviet I'm aware. A direct quote from Ghazghkull Thrakka to commissar Yarrick is the common example given of an ork speaking proper, though slightly accented, low-gothic. I asked because it's never been made entirely clear that low-gothic actually Is space-english, if the ork language is extremely accented english, and if the two are one and the same base language, or if it's just the result of everything in the books being presented in English because no one speaks any of the languages of the 41st millenium.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Hmm... so, will there be a differentiation between high gothic and ork, or will I need to speak IC as an ork at all times?

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

An ork, a tau, a space marine, and a human...

Please tell me this starts with us walking into a bar.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

I'm looking forward to this more and more.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Urgrugg Darkcrackah

Name: Urgrugg Darkcrackah

Gender: N/A (Uses masculine pronouns)

Age: Lots (approximately two standard terran centuries)

Faction/Race/Species: : Ork

Sub-Faction: Disowned

Rank/Position: Former Shaman

Mental and Physical Traits: He is a devoted Servant of Gork and Mork, and believes that Khorne and Tzeentch are actually different aspects of his deities. Frequent absorption of raw warp energy and interactions with various warp entities has left him insane, in the opinion of other orks. His insanity manifests as a slightly more human outlook on life. His time living among humans has only reinforced this way of thinking. Compared to other orks, he is reasonable, trustworthy, and intelligent. That said, he is still more ork in nature than human.
Physically, he is easily the match of any nob, and even weaker warbosses. However, again, the effects of the warp have marked him. Most notably, he no longer produces spores. Additionally, he seems to no longer be attuned to the ork gestalt field, if he is even still part of it. This means that ork technology and armaments are as effective for him as they are for a member of any other race. This, along with his strange beliefs and mannerisms, has made other orks very wary of him, even more so than of other weirdboys.
Finally, there are his abilities as a psyker. Though he still has access to many of the destructive and unfocused powers generally used by ork, he has lost any and all ability to channel and manipulate the ork gestalt field. In addition, his powers in general have proven to be largely useless in terms of directly aiding others. Equally, he has an extremely hard time performing any task that requires either finesse or complex workings. That said, he commands almost frightening levels of power as a psyker. In addition to having access to a much wider variety of abilities, he is nearly as powerful as ork weirdboys are able to become without crossing dangerous and extreme boundaries.
His schools of discipline include telekinesis, pyrokinesis, biomancy, divination, and satanic daemonology, in addition to the more traditional ork abilities.

Appearance: He stands at roughly seven feet in height, with a hunch in his back that is deep, even for an ork. He has no hair, either on his head or face. His skin is a slightly darker shade of green than most orks. Like most of his kin, he has many scars, pockmarks, and his skin is rough and as thick as leather. The most notable of his scars is one that runs down his left eye, which is a milky white where the other is the usual fiery red. His fangs are quite large, and reach easily halfway up his face. His hands are big, even for an ork, and end in thick, sharp talons. His jaw juts out quite far, giving him a pronounced underbite.
He is heavily muscled, like any ork, and has a very broad frame. His shoulders are nearly twice the width of a large human male's, and his arms are easily long enough to reach the floor when he's standing in his usual bent-kneed stance.

Wargear: He has very little by way of gear. His only notable possessions are his staff and a book he carries with him. In addition to acting as the traditional force staff used by weirdboys in general, it has a large, purple crystal anchored into the top. Nearly the size of a human's balled fist, it has a number of symbols carved into both it and the wood holding it in place. The staff can channel warp energy, like any force weapon, but the crystal can keep that energy stored inside. While generally not enough energy to actually manifest a power, it is able to act as an anchor in the warp, a point of reference he can use to make navigating and using the warp an easier task.
The book, by contrast, is not magical in any way. Instead, it holds the names and rituals necessary to summon a wide variety and number of daemons and daemonic forces. However, as it is written not only in orkish, but is also coded, it would be nearly useless to anyone else.
As far as clothing, he tends to wear a simple robe that covers most of him, as well as a simple pair of trousers. Besides that, he wears a thick sheet of steel that wraps around his torso, which acts as the only armor he wears.

History: Urgrugg's life begins simply, then quickly becomes very complicated. When he burst from his spore pod, he quickly got to work as a boy. His clan was small compared to others, but feared for their large nobs and warboss. As a boy, life only amounted to doing as the boss said, and fighting. Things changed one day when, after drinking too much fungus beer, he vomited during a battle. What came out was not the filth expected, but a massive blast of plasma. It killed three other orcs, and the humans they were fighting. From that day on, he was a weirdboy. It took time, but as the boss said, eventually he began getting visions from the green gods. Usually, they were just signs to send his clan to battle. However, one of them was different. While he slept, he dreamt of a group of humans, who were chanting strange things while killing a goat. When they finished, one of their heads exploded, and left in its place was a strange, red creature, covered with spikes. His dream then showed him where this place was, and how to get there. Usually, when the gods wanted his clan to fight, he dreamt of the exhilaration he felt in battle. This time, though, he dreamt only of rage, and an overwhelming desire to kill the humans and what they'd summoned.
Again, things changed. Instead of telling the boss of his dream, he went to the humans alone, and attacked them himself while they slept. He found the room where they had summoned the red thing, what he later learned was a daemon of khorne, and a book. While in the room, he also felt something strange. Going back some time later, he brought goblins with him to repeat the ritual, and when one of them exploded and the creature stepped out, he attacked it. It wasn't easy, but with the help of the goblins, he was able to pin the creature, and force it to answer his questions. Though it resisted, eventually he got the information he wanted, then left the goblins to be killed by the creature in exchange for its help. That was his first deal with a daemon. From then on, he made many, many more.
Eventually, his clan became the most powerful on his planet. He spent decades serving as the shaman loved by his people for the battles he brought them to, and the strength he gave them. Then, again, things changed. Large suits of blue and gold armor appeared before him during the night, and he was stolen away into the night sky on some magical, flying, metal boat. Once among the stars, they took him to their sky ship, and left him in a prison. Eventually, someone came along with food. He looked human, though much larger. It was also obvious he was himself a shaman, presumably for a clan of large humans who made suits of armor fight for them. While giving him his food, the human told him that his leader wished to speak with him, to find out how and why an ork was summoning daemons so often. However, whoever the man's leader was, he was far away, and it took what felt like years before word was received of his impending arrival.
At the last minute, though, things changed. Strange, elven-looking beings wearing elaborate costumes invaded the sky ship. After hours of battle, they came to him, and offered him a strange deal. Their shaman had died, and none among them was able to sense the powers of the warp. In return for helping them locate a book which they said contained knowledged that was stolen from them, they would take him to safety. With no other options, he agreed. True to their word, when he found their book, they took him with them. They returned him to his clan.
While he was gone, though, things had changed. The deals he had made with daemons, the things he had promised them, had not been kept. As a result, they had attacked his people. When he tried to return to them, they cast him out. Though he would not say it, it was obvious the only reason the boss did not try and kill him was because he was afraid of what his shaman had become.
Strangely, when he left his village, he found that the strange elf-things had not left. They said that, in keeping with their word, they would take him somewhere safe to live. What they had in mind, though, was far from anything he could expect. They used magic to move a sky ship into the warp, but not. Wherever they went, it was somehow between the warp and the real world. The place they took him to, though, was even more strange to him than such an unbelievable place. They took him to a place where humans lived, but not like the ones from his home world. They wore strange armor, and wielded strange weapons. Some spoke of a tribe called the Imperium, and others spoke of freedom. Though it took time, over the years he learned to be a part of the place the elf-things had brought him to. These strange new beings, as many of them were not human, eventually began coming to him when they needed aid in battle, or protection on a voyage. In exchange, he was paid. It was not for teef, like he was used to, but he understood the idea. Eventually, he even came across other orks. They did not like him, and he felt the same, so he stayed away from his own kind when he could. Though not what he would want it to be, his life was acceptable to him.
But, hey, things change.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Is it still okay for me to put forward a CS? I didn't see myself tagged in this.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP

@Jbcool Yea, @BCTheEntity basically called it. The idea is that he genuinely believes Khorne and Tzeentch are actually Gork and Mork. The only point of difference is that no one is entirely certain which god(s) he's actually serving the will of at any given point in time, let alone in general.
Though originally gifted by Gork and Mork, he used his powers to dabble in the dark arts of the spiky 'umies, making deals with many a daemon and chaos entity along the way. His wicked ways come to a head after he's captured by sky 'umies wearing blue and gold armor what don't talk. Once aboard their flyin' boat, he escapes 'iz guard and flees to his clan. Apparently, 'iz name 'ad gotten passed around by the daemons he liked to summon, and some git named Air-man was lookin' for 'im. Things don't go according to plan, 'e steals a book written by some red git, then gives it to some crazy panzees that want it for der boss's collection so they'll rescue him. While he's away, havoc befalls his clan as a result of his debt to the daemons, and when he tries to return they cast him out, forcing him to accept the panzees' offer to take him somewhere he'll be safe.
When all is said and done, no one involved is entirely sure if he's an agent of the ork gods, the chaos gods, cegorach, or maybe even Mephet'ran. That said, in his mind, he is adamant that he is a servant of the Great Green Gods.

All subject to necessary scrutiny and change, of course.