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7 mos ago
Current God save the Queen!
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i'll get something soon. I left my USB with my character sheet at work
One of the easiest things to do in warhammer is turn to chaos. Its an infamously easy process. If it wasnt, then orginizations like the inquisition would need to exist because the problem would practically be solved on its own.
I shall state my interest and see wherw the ooc goes
I might
I might join this as a Raptor part of/leading a talon of five or so others.
Thanks to the sophistication of the imperial machine spirit, Cholon's internal vox cut through the noise of a dozen shrieking traitors clambering over his armoured body. He heard the plan for an assault and cursed himself for hurling his rifle moments prior.

The next curses to come out of his mouth had less to do with the many, many enemies still hacking and stabbing at his ceramite exterior. Remembering that his rifle (and by literal attachment, the grenade launcher) had been hurled into the hoard not a minute earlier. He originally planned to dig it out from the corpses and offal after this assault was repelled. But now he had to go digging through heretics for his own weapon.

It was a tall order to lift himself from the pile of bodies, even the servos in his knee joints whinned gently with the effort of standing. The crack and subsequent volley of organized lasfire helped. He could see bodies twist and faces contort as short range las fire heated through meagre clothing and soft flesh.

It was a start. Some of the bolder guardsman took shots at the cretins crawling on the Chogorian's back and legs. Some of those las rounds scored his armour but none came close to damaging anything. It gave him some extra breathing room at least. Enough to unhook a frag grenade from his belt and toss it somewhere into the rear of the hoard to detonate indiscriminately, and to draw his sidearm and begin carving a bloody new path towards where he last threw his weapon. He only hoped the spirit of the weapon would forgive him for discarding it in such a lowly manner. He would have need of its ability again soon.

"As long as we get to leave this trench, I don't care if we run into the eye itself." Speaking his first words to his squad since this assault had begun.
I'm working on a post. Hopefully I can get it up today
Wait a minute. I have to be missing something, since when are we assaulting? The rp started off with us in a trench being attacked.

We are the ones being assaulted and having to repel. Any enemy wall or formation is accross a no-mans land and certainly not within a quick running or throwing distance
"I am the mountain that stands against the wind, I am the cliff that breaks the rising waves..." The white armoured giant intoned to himself as the tide of mutation and heresy smashed into him. Nearly toppling him backward from the sheer press of bodies he could only bend his knees and lock his armour for a moment until he regained his full balance.

At this point all semblance of fighting had deteriorated in the span of half a second. he still pulled the trigger of his rifle. Pumping point blank bolt rounds that ripped with such brute force at such a range as they would pass through two or three bodies before finally losing enough raw momentum to properly detonate their explosive charges. But soon that magazine ran dry and his rifle became little more than an unwieldy club. Frankly it a sad roll for such a beautifully crafted weapon.

“I am the shield that halts the arrow's flight.”

He continued. Raising his voice louder, his vox speakers amplifying the effects of his booming voice and his recitation of an old tribal litany. Repeating these words helped keep his mind focused and reminded him that he needed to stay put for the plan to work. But trapped in this claustrophobic press of bodies with barely enough room to swing his arms, was the most literal personification of hell for one of his people.

Each swing of his arms either sliced nearly eighteen inches of near perfectly crafted steel deep through tainted flesh and warped bone, or shattered limbs and pulped skulls with his rifle. Soon enough his armour was barely white. The top half was a mess of scratches and scorch marks while his lower half was practically painted in gore and bile as each kill splashed against him. Already the trench began to fill with a pool of blood that would have risen to a mortal man's ankle, and was only going to get deeper.

“I am the stone that splits the stream.”

Cholon knew that the strange soldiers with the skull masks were moving backward. He wished he could join them but he knew his place. He could only make himself an even bigger target to buy them a safer retreat. Trying to bring up his knife let his see two crazed heretic woman clinging to his arm, their weight slowing him down enough so that he couldn't block the great metal wrench from smacking him in the knee from behind. Causing that leg to buckle briefly, before he could right himself another heretic jumped on his back and stabbed a rusted blade against the soft armour of his neck. Though the spirit of his armour was stronger than poorly maintained steel. It snapped before it could pierce through though it didn't stop the crazed man from trying.

“I am the thunder that breaks the horde!”

He roared, tossing his rifle forward, it cracked into the chest of other heretic who fell wheezing to the ground, clutching his broken ribs and freshly pierced lung. “I am the fury of the Khan!” Letting himself fall to one knee he grabbed the man on his back by the neck with his now free hand and squeezed, crunching his pathetic spine and allowing the corpse slump down his back. Dozens of blows from all manner of weapons rained down on him, but still the flash of steel and bright ceramite white carved its way through whatever tainted flesh strayed too close.
It is a good point that none of us are in any way familiar with the reputations of our parent chapters. Aside from what we may have been told. As we are proverbial blank slates we do not and likely would not have to embody the stereotypes of our chapters. If anything we would be closer to the older Legion personalities.
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