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I posted as well. I realized it had been quite a while.
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- Old Guild Username: necroes
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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Just your average D&D nerd.
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1 yr ago
Looking for a Shadowrun 1x1 Check details here; roleplayerguild.com/posts/5…
5 yrs ago
I'm just a D&D junkie between DMs.
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5 yrs ago
And I'm back!
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5 yrs ago
To all my players and writing partners; Don't worry! I've not vanished or forgotten you. I've had something come up, and will be taking the rest of this week off from my RPs. See you next week!
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Most Recent Posts
Urgrugg sat in the corner of the ship, staring into the gem atop his staff. He was only half paying attention to what was going on around him. In a way, it almost felt like there were two of him, one preoccupied with his staff and the other concerned with the rest of the world. In his head, an argument went on, a crazy argument that would make no sense to anyone but an ork. Even then, no other ork would have the argument themselves. Either way, Urgrugg was likely crazy.
As the crew talked and debated, his thoughts slowly began to turn to hostile actions. For the longest time, a voice in the back of his mind had discouraged those thoughts, and helped keep them in check. Now, though, that voice was gone, and each passing moment made Urgrugg doubt whatever sense he had ever thought it had made. The conversations going on were not helping matters, either.
For the most part, things seemed simple to Urgrugg. They needed to leave, and go somewhere else. The obvious place to go was somewhere they could fight. The rest of it was just wasted breath. While some part of him found what the Ogryn said to be fascinating, and extremely informative-it had answered so many questions the ork had had about imperial culture for so long-it still did not matter. Sure, the Ogryn was the biggest, so obviously he should be in charge, but any boy could tell you bosses aren't chosen for their thoughts. All leading a mob meant was you got to fight all the biggest and toughest things.
Of course, there was also the gem. It was small, but it was there, his secret store of warp energy. It wasn't enough to do much, but it took next to nothing to kill someone. All he would have to do is break skin, and the jolt of warp energy could shoot to the victim's brain and destroy it completely. He could use that, but then he would be left defenseless. Just knowing it was there, though, was a comfort to the ork. Really, though, there was something else he wanted to do with that small burst of energy much, much more.
In a way, Urgrugg was like a man lost at sea, with nothing to drink but a bottle of rum. Who he was, his personality as it had existed for his long life, was based on a steady and constant connection to the warp. Without that connection, that personality was dying, being dehydrated by the lack of warp energy he was used to. There was warp energy around him, of course-everything produces warp energy, and the eldar stones were practically giant batteries-but like a thirsty man at sea he knew it would do him no good. Just taking in that power would not only not fix his problem, it would make it worse, and very quickly.
However, his stone was slightly different. That warp energy he could take in, and safely. It also was not the real thing. All it would accomplish is make him want more. Just like the man with the rum, though, it would feel so good going down. That alone might make the consequences worth it, if he were just going to die either way.
These two streams of thought clashed. One side of him wanted to fight, to kill everyone there just for the sake of the battle. The other was obsessed with the gem, stuck in a constant state of uncertainty of what to do with it. While the two sides would not seem mutually exclusive, deep down, it was actually a war between his base, orky self, trying to return to its instincts, versus his true identity, desperately grasping for his last chance at hope, knowing that when he takes hold of it, that will just mark the end.
When the ship shook, it jarred him from his thoughts, and that was all it took. His nose locked onto the scent of fresh blood, his eyes sought the group operating on the fallen tech marine. Standing, the battle in his mind was halted. Not ended, so much as stalled, as both sides agreed there was something else that needed done.
Walking up to the apothecary, he waited for him to finish. Once done, the ork held out his arm. Though it had reattached, and he was able to move it, it was little more than useless beyond that. It looked like it had been mummified, shriveled and completely dehydrated as it was. Like in most cases, the ork had managed to do what many would say could not be done. However, it had not been done well, and the result could hardly be called a success.
"You fix?" he asked the apothecary, a bit excited, though he didn't show it. Seeing the tech marine come out of his surgery with metal additions had made Urgrugg somewhat hopeful for something like that of his own. Perhaps one of those power claws he had heard of. Though, it was unlikely the marine would be able to match true ork engineering. "Can trade. Make me better. Make you better." Gesturing with his staff, he indicated the apothecary with the prior, then himself with the latter.
As the crew talked and debated, his thoughts slowly began to turn to hostile actions. For the longest time, a voice in the back of his mind had discouraged those thoughts, and helped keep them in check. Now, though, that voice was gone, and each passing moment made Urgrugg doubt whatever sense he had ever thought it had made. The conversations going on were not helping matters, either.
For the most part, things seemed simple to Urgrugg. They needed to leave, and go somewhere else. The obvious place to go was somewhere they could fight. The rest of it was just wasted breath. While some part of him found what the Ogryn said to be fascinating, and extremely informative-it had answered so many questions the ork had had about imperial culture for so long-it still did not matter. Sure, the Ogryn was the biggest, so obviously he should be in charge, but any boy could tell you bosses aren't chosen for their thoughts. All leading a mob meant was you got to fight all the biggest and toughest things.
Of course, there was also the gem. It was small, but it was there, his secret store of warp energy. It wasn't enough to do much, but it took next to nothing to kill someone. All he would have to do is break skin, and the jolt of warp energy could shoot to the victim's brain and destroy it completely. He could use that, but then he would be left defenseless. Just knowing it was there, though, was a comfort to the ork. Really, though, there was something else he wanted to do with that small burst of energy much, much more.
In a way, Urgrugg was like a man lost at sea, with nothing to drink but a bottle of rum. Who he was, his personality as it had existed for his long life, was based on a steady and constant connection to the warp. Without that connection, that personality was dying, being dehydrated by the lack of warp energy he was used to. There was warp energy around him, of course-everything produces warp energy, and the eldar stones were practically giant batteries-but like a thirsty man at sea he knew it would do him no good. Just taking in that power would not only not fix his problem, it would make it worse, and very quickly.
However, his stone was slightly different. That warp energy he could take in, and safely. It also was not the real thing. All it would accomplish is make him want more. Just like the man with the rum, though, it would feel so good going down. That alone might make the consequences worth it, if he were just going to die either way.
These two streams of thought clashed. One side of him wanted to fight, to kill everyone there just for the sake of the battle. The other was obsessed with the gem, stuck in a constant state of uncertainty of what to do with it. While the two sides would not seem mutually exclusive, deep down, it was actually a war between his base, orky self, trying to return to its instincts, versus his true identity, desperately grasping for his last chance at hope, knowing that when he takes hold of it, that will just mark the end.
When the ship shook, it jarred him from his thoughts, and that was all it took. His nose locked onto the scent of fresh blood, his eyes sought the group operating on the fallen tech marine. Standing, the battle in his mind was halted. Not ended, so much as stalled, as both sides agreed there was something else that needed done.
Walking up to the apothecary, he waited for him to finish. Once done, the ork held out his arm. Though it had reattached, and he was able to move it, it was little more than useless beyond that. It looked like it had been mummified, shriveled and completely dehydrated as it was. Like in most cases, the ork had managed to do what many would say could not be done. However, it had not been done well, and the result could hardly be called a success.
"You fix?" he asked the apothecary, a bit excited, though he didn't show it. Seeing the tech marine come out of his surgery with metal additions had made Urgrugg somewhat hopeful for something like that of his own. Perhaps one of those power claws he had heard of. Though, it was unlikely the marine would be able to match true ork engineering. "Can trade. Make me better. Make you better." Gesturing with his staff, he indicated the apothecary with the prior, then himself with the latter.
“Aye si-,” McNespey stopped and peered for a moment at the long-range scanners, rubbing the screen as if to remove a speck of dirt, then looking back to his commanding officer, “there's something else moving toward us, something smaller than an escort-class vessel, sir. It appears to be an Emperor's Child exploration craft.”
Emphasis mine.
'Emporer's Angels' is just one of the chapter's nicknames from before the heresy. It references Fulgrim's influence on them to want to be perfect in everything, as well as the eagle's wing featured in their emblem. Admittedly, it's also been used on occasion as a generic term for space marines in general.
Ironically, the term likely wouldn't be used to refer to either the dark angels or the blood angels. The prior because they scare the piss out of basically everyone in the imperium capable of pissing, and the latter because they are the most respected and well-liked chapter among the imperial armed forces. It's well reflected in their chapter masters. Azrael is a scary mother-fucker who doesn't afraid of anything, and Dante... well, 1,100 years of dedicated service to the imperium speaks for itself.
@Jbcool Uh, boss, I think you got something mixed up....
The Empoeror's Children are Chaos aligned. As said on Lexicanium, quote,
"All trace of decency amongst the Emperor's Children had vanished by the time they partook in the Siege of Terra. While other Traitor Legions assaulted the Imperial Palace, the Emperor's Children embarked upon a spree of terror and gratification amongst the helpless citizenry of Terra. Millions of defenseless civilians were slaughtered and rendered down to create endless varieties of drugs and stimulants, countless thousands more dying to provide the Legionnaires with more direct and cruder pleasure."
NO ONE loyal to the imperium would ask them for help. Ever.
The Empoeror's Children are Chaos aligned. As said on Lexicanium, quote,
"All trace of decency amongst the Emperor's Children had vanished by the time they partook in the Siege of Terra. While other Traitor Legions assaulted the Imperial Palace, the Emperor's Children embarked upon a spree of terror and gratification amongst the helpless citizenry of Terra. Millions of defenseless civilians were slaughtered and rendered down to create endless varieties of drugs and stimulants, countless thousands more dying to provide the Legionnaires with more direct and cruder pleasure."
NO ONE loyal to the imperium would ask them for help. Ever.
Don't look at me, I'm not the one playing a loyalist. I'm all for blowing up battle barges and looting what's left.
Lootin'z one uh duh fingz orkz doez bezt!
Lootin'z one uh duh fingz orkz doez bezt!
@Jbcool@BCTheEntity@Wraithblade6@Klomster@Sophrus@agentmanatee
Just to make sure, everyone knows that when Urgrugg is using his 'accent,' no one else can understand him, right?
The ork language is very specifically not gothic, low or high, or any variation of said. Being as he comes from a largely isolated planet, it also doesn't contain any of the borrowed terms modern orkish does, and would be more akin to old high orkish.
I bring it up because it seems like some people were indicating their characters understood what he was saying. If I'm wrong, then my bad.
Just to make sure, everyone knows that when Urgrugg is using his 'accent,' no one else can understand him, right?
The ork language is very specifically not gothic, low or high, or any variation of said. Being as he comes from a largely isolated planet, it also doesn't contain any of the borrowed terms modern orkish does, and would be more akin to old high orkish.
I bring it up because it seems like some people were indicating their characters understood what he was saying. If I'm wrong, then my bad.
If I get revived, knocked out, or killed by one more xeno, mutant, or hetetic, I'm going to have to turn in my space marine card.
Don't forget saved. It was a xeno that hauled your ungrateful space-marine carcass to safety to begin with. And, he's an ork, so you know he's stubborn enough to keep saving your life, just to spite you.
There's always something you can do; hey, it could be you that decides to shoot the Ogryn...or the Ork for that matter. After all, he did whack you on the head. As for being on the ground, well, wake the Hell up, you're an Astartes after all.
I'd like to point out, the ork whacked him when his attention was entirely focused somewhere else. And, acknowledging that it happened would be admitting that he got taken out of action by a filthy xeno. Just sayin'.
As Urgrugg slowly came to, he felt strange, though he wasn't sure why. At first, he thought it might be the pain in his shoulder, but no, he'd dealt with pain before, and worse at that. No, it was something else. Gripping his hands, he felt around for his staff. Perhaps that was it, the familiar weight of it was missing from his hand. Opening his eyes, he looked around, slowly recalling what events had transpired that he found his way here. Looking around, he saw he was facing the ceiling, which meant he was on his back. That may have been it, as he generally did not sleep lying down.
No, none of that was right. It was something that was missing, but not his staff. Something even more personal. The warp, that was it. He could not feel the presence of it, the power of it connected to him. Looking about, more hurried this time, his eyes caught on the first familiar thing in the room. Reaching out, he gripped his staff at its base. After grabbing it, he realized something was holding it. Connecting the feet of said something to their owner, the memory of his 'ally' came back to him, and the sudden urge to murder the fool that tried to steal from him was turned to a low simmer of annoyance.
First, he pushed down on the staff, using it to pull himself to a sitting position. In the next breath, he yanked it away, using far more strength that was necessary to pull it from the weaker mech wright's hands. Once he had it under his control once more, his other senses took hold, and he realized someone was talking. Though he'd missed most of what was said, he did catch most of the last of it. It took some time for his mind to translate the gothic to his own language, but it inevitably did.
Rolling his shoulders, it was at that point he realized someone had seen to his arm. Though the majority of the damage, the destruction caused by the massive discharge of warp energy through it, would take more time to heal, it had been successfully reattached, and he was even able to move the arm. It had less strength than a goblin, so it was all but useless, but it could still move which at that point was good enough for him.
"That why they came? For the stones?" His question was in reference to the mention of Eldar. He'd heard the word before, and had assumed it was the term for the strange sky elves he'd encountered in the past. "We leave, have to go fast. This place, not hidden to their eyes. Like dirt on glass during day, this place is a hole in the warp that should not be. When we move, their sight will be drawn to us."
"I am Urgrugg Darkcrackah. I stood shaman of my clan for over one thousand moons. If you are wise, heed my words. What you stole holds great value. They will destroy us to reclaim it." With that, he began a prayer. Spoken in the tongue of his homeworld, it was centuries old, and invoked the great green gods by name.
His hands held before him, pressed tight together, knuckle to knuckle, he began. "Oi, Gork 'n Mork! If we'z gotz ta run, paintz uz red, so we goez fastest. If we'ze spoze ta fight, make uz the greenest, 'cauze greenz da best! Waaagh!!!" He shouted the entire thing, the final word loud enough it would be no surprise if he could be heard through the door. Holding to tradition, he ended the prayer by smashing his pressed-together hands against his forehead, breaking them apart. In the process, he drew blood from his own brow, to show the gods which option he would prefer.
No, none of that was right. It was something that was missing, but not his staff. Something even more personal. The warp, that was it. He could not feel the presence of it, the power of it connected to him. Looking about, more hurried this time, his eyes caught on the first familiar thing in the room. Reaching out, he gripped his staff at its base. After grabbing it, he realized something was holding it. Connecting the feet of said something to their owner, the memory of his 'ally' came back to him, and the sudden urge to murder the fool that tried to steal from him was turned to a low simmer of annoyance.
First, he pushed down on the staff, using it to pull himself to a sitting position. In the next breath, he yanked it away, using far more strength that was necessary to pull it from the weaker mech wright's hands. Once he had it under his control once more, his other senses took hold, and he realized someone was talking. Though he'd missed most of what was said, he did catch most of the last of it. It took some time for his mind to translate the gothic to his own language, but it inevitably did.
Rolling his shoulders, it was at that point he realized someone had seen to his arm. Though the majority of the damage, the destruction caused by the massive discharge of warp energy through it, would take more time to heal, it had been successfully reattached, and he was even able to move the arm. It had less strength than a goblin, so it was all but useless, but it could still move which at that point was good enough for him.
"That why they came? For the stones?" His question was in reference to the mention of Eldar. He'd heard the word before, and had assumed it was the term for the strange sky elves he'd encountered in the past. "We leave, have to go fast. This place, not hidden to their eyes. Like dirt on glass during day, this place is a hole in the warp that should not be. When we move, their sight will be drawn to us."
"I am Urgrugg Darkcrackah. I stood shaman of my clan for over one thousand moons. If you are wise, heed my words. What you stole holds great value. They will destroy us to reclaim it." With that, he began a prayer. Spoken in the tongue of his homeworld, it was centuries old, and invoked the great green gods by name.
His hands held before him, pressed tight together, knuckle to knuckle, he began. "Oi, Gork 'n Mork! If we'z gotz ta run, paintz uz red, so we goez fastest. If we'ze spoze ta fight, make uz the greenest, 'cauze greenz da best! Waaagh!!!" He shouted the entire thing, the final word loud enough it would be no surprise if he could be heard through the door. Holding to tradition, he ended the prayer by smashing his pressed-together hands against his forehead, breaking them apart. In the process, he drew blood from his own brow, to show the gods which option he would prefer.
I think I'll go ahead and have Urgrugg come around. His wounds have been treated-kind of-and now seems as good a time as any.
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