Ollumhammersong

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

The assault ram possessed a lesser, but no less violatile machine spirit when compared to the vessel which is was subservient too. Not as ancient as the warspite but It was certainly more aggressive more energetic and youthful. It relished carving its way through the hull of the enemy vessel as a young warrior relishes the opportunity to charge into the ranks of the enemy. Heedless of the danger to itself and concerned onoy with the glory of the charge.

In contrast there was the hate of the enemy cruiser. And hate was the simplest way to describe it. Pure, unrepentant hatred towards those blessed souls come to scour its blighted hallways clean. He had no respect for this vessel's spirit, as potent and vast as it was. Only cold pity. It was a literal cancer plying between the stars, a tumour fit only to be cut apart or bombarded from afar.

Stepping forth into its stinking emptiness, the rust armoured brother surveyed the sorroundings. The various icons and graffiti painted along the walls in blood.... or worse. But he heard the chaplain's request and stopped to analyze. It was still a cruiser of a hallowed imperial design, though if that should make him feel better or worse in regards to its profanity he did not know. And navigating it should be a simple enough matter. 'Should be' being the operative choice of wording. It all depended on where exactly it was they boarded. It was hard to tell for certain but....

“That way.” Hefting his power axe towards the right hand direction. He paused as if re-considering his analysis. Calculations whirling in his head in a rather difficult attempt to take in the variables of their transport. “...yes, that way. And up, at least three decks above us.”

Behind him four servitors lurched out of the assault ram with their ungainly mechanized gait. Two of them sported heavy bolters instead of arms, these massive guns and their associated mechanizisms made up nearly half of their torsos. And their other arms ending in vicious industrial pincers that could shear through steel pipe and copper wire as if it were soft flesh, augmented by mechanical muscle. They clunked heavily ahead of the two more mundane servitors, themselves a mess of wiring and connection cables and little else of use. They stood idle, their faces which were already half destroyed by their machine parts blank and stupid as the automotons awaited orders to continue, or to do anything for that matter.

Retaking the Front (40k Astra Militarum Roleplay, Currently Full)

Thank you for that. I want to keep it going but I just don't think I can

Retaking the Front (40k Astra Militarum Roleplay, Currently Full)

@Andreyich@Kipsateking@Lady Selune@Searat@Irredeemable@POOHEAD189

Hello everybody, I just wanted to say a couple things about this rp, the first is that I do thank all of you for sticking around despite the terribly slow pace and staying with it.

Unfortunately after some thinking and several attempted revisions from a GM's prespective I think I am going to put the proverbial bullet into this rp. Again, I thank you for your willingness to keep going but I don't think I can improve the pace of this any time soon and give it proper attention.

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

Oberon Accepted the information about the time dilation more easily than most of his fellows. It was common knowledge that warp travel was at best a devil's bargain for the Imperium, and Such occurances were hardly uncommon. It was merely time for it to befall the warspite. The Omnissiah, in his magnificance could still be praised for seeing them all through the warp unscathed, even if they were now a little late... It was not something to be angry or sad over, it merely was. All one could do was accept it as an inevitability of placing ones trust in as fickle a realm as the immaterium. It was like being angry at a star for burning brightly in defiance of the void sorrounding it. A waste of energy.

He had nothing further to say during the meeting until the first first enemy broadside slammed into the warspite's armoured hide. He could feel the rage of the spirit responding to this impudence. Oberon did not like the idea of it being roused while still trying to re-orient itself from reality insertion.

The Techmarine was already heading towards the assault rams. “Agmar” The forgewrite signalled the ships senior forge serf.

“Yes my lord.” The aged voice replied, heavy with defferance to his long time master. “Have a team of servitors sent to Boarding ram sigma-2. Ensure there are two data recovery menials among them.” It was a poor gamble, as any data ripped from such tainted cogitators as found onboard a chaos vessel may likely be corrupted far beyond any hope of proper recovery. But it could also contain invaluable information regarding the last hundred pus years of lost time. It was certainly worth the life of a servitor or two to try.

"Certainly my lord." To his credit the aged serf was remarkably calm despite being as clueless about the current state of affairs as one could be. Maybe it was his indoctrination training or he was simply too old to care much about being under attack yet again. In either case Oberon would regret his soon to be death from old age or violence, the efficiency rate amongst the other forge menials would likely drop at least four percent as a result. An unacceptable fall in productivity for the fighting company to endure. A thought for another day, for now duty must be performed. The Warpsite couldn't be calmed from this newly induced rage even if he tried. Maybe he was wrong and this fight would be a good for it. In any case it was beyond him, So he left it as a problem for the on-board tech adepts to sort out.

Retaking the Front (40k Astra Militarum Roleplay, Currently Full)

@Andreyich@Kipsateking@Lady Selune@Searat@Irredeemable@POOHEAD189

What say the rest of you?

Retaking the Front (40k Astra Militarum Roleplay, Currently Full)

@Andreyich

I have a feeling a lot of people have. And I know it's largely my fault for moving so slowly. But at this moment i'm just worried if people are even interested in continuing or if sufficient interest has faded entirely.

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

Sure, draw up a sheet and send it to JB

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

Name: Obryn

Personal Demeanour:

As a general rule, interactions between techmarines and the ‘regular’ brothren are usually strained at best. Though not for a lack of trying on Oberon’s part. His time amongst the forge-masters of mars has changed him irrevocably, and his induction and enlightenment to the glory of the onmissiah causes him to view the Emperor and interpret his divine will in a different light than other Black Templars.

His belief in the ‘Emperor-as-Omnissiah’ puts him at odds with the reclusium and most of his other brothers.

Rank/Position: Techmarine

Power Armour History: Once a suit of mark VII power armour, it is now barely recognizable from its original state. Passed down through several generations of techmarines before him, each one making their own subtle(and not to subtle) alterations to the venerable plate to suit their own purposes and tastes. These modifications, when compounded through the centuries have produced a protective suit that is superior to anything worn by the rank and file brothers of the chapter.

Oberon earned the suit following his induction into the forge, a gift from the chapter forge upon completion of his training on mars.

Description: Obryn wears the afformentioned suit of artificer power armour, Kept in immaculate condition as is only proper for a member of the forge.

Underneath the armour he looks much like what one would expect a space marine to look like. Tall, broad, square-jawed with a closely shaven skull. His body plays host to a number of cybernetic augments, as is also customary for a member of the forge. His spine and other bones necessary to support and interface with servo arms, a few internal organs, Both hands have been replaced to better allow him to connect to the machine he is in communion with.

Skills: Skills of the forge, as a techmarine Obryn is capable of breathing life back into virtually any wargear, from an overloaded plasma pistol to the partially ruptured engine of a predator tank, to the most rent and abused suit of power armour. As long as some spark of the machine’s spirit still lives there is always hope that it will live to see another battle.

History: Obryn remembers few details of his past before ascending to the status of an Emperor’s angel. A scattered memory here or there of billowing manufactory smoke stacks, of back breaking labour even from a young age, and scratching out a living in abject squalor. A hive world was the most probable answer. But a mining and refinery world was also plausible. Either way it mattered little, the human mind, even an augmented one like his own only had room for so much information. And there were far more important things that demanded presedance than a childhood that he left behind two hundred years ago.

Not that his early years in the chapter were any more eventful, certainly there was warfare and bloodshed abound but in the context of hindsight, and viewed through the lense of a forge-wright’s eye, mere warfare is inconsequential and past glories earned are minor when compared to his new duties and the technological wonders at his cybernetic finger tips. To dwell on his past is pointless, and to over-indulge in pride is tantamount to vanity.

Equipment and Armament: Servo arm Cutter/manipulator, Ohmnissian power axe, Modified gauntlet w/ incorporated combi-tool, modified Bolt pistol

Miscellaneous: Obryn commands a number of artificer, lay-adept and technical serfs in service to the chapter armoury, as well as a number of labour purposed servitors, including a limited supply of battle servitors that can be awakened and used as an escort when he must take to the field, to protect him as he focuses on his rituals of repair.

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

Oberyn’s body may have been in attendance at the meeting but his mind was elsewhere. He did not need to be a forge master to feel the confusion of the Warspite. It hummed through the bulkheads and the very deckplates, to those trained enough to sense it. The Warspite was an ungainly beast trying too orientate itself from a violent and sudden hurling through the warp like the rest of them were. True, It was a magnificent and ancient spirit, far older than any of the brothers on board, and this was but one of hundreds of translations made by its engines over the centuries of its service. But this was a particularly violent translation, And the engines needed to be soothed properly before they could be relied upon to jump again. A duty Oberyn would happily be attending to were it not for his involvement in this gathering.

Still, he arrived on time. Precisely when he was expected to actually. Time his departure and travel perfectly to arrive at the meeting neither later nor early. He supposed it would actually be good for him to arrive to the command bridge anyway, to view the informations and incoming data streams for himself to better understand what was putting so much stress on the soul of the vessel.

“I have come brother chaplain.” Oberyn remarked shortly as way of greeting, and a stiff bow as offered pleasantries. The keepers of the forge were not ones for formalaties and ritual beyond what were extended to the omnissiah and his machines. “Though my hands are needed elsewhere. The Warspite struggles with this change and I must sooth it's pain lest it begin to feel neglected. Or it grows too agitated.” Neither was a particularly attractive prospect. Either the machine became moody and unresponsive or would start to turn it's confusion to frustration and anger, and find small ways to lash out said frustrations.