Penny

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

current leads

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” Hadrian asked.

“Well I haven’t had alot of training, but I will struggle through,” I replied and then we jumped from the moving speeder. At the last moment something black and monstrous struck the flier, the jolt sending us spinning into the air. I caught a glimpse of something black an immense, some kind of flying lizard from Demick’s homeworld or his nightmares. The jet pack fired several short bursts correcting our spin as the train seemed to slide out beneath us in slow motion. The landscape below us was a nightmare of decay and madness. The train line seemed to ripple as unseen waves passed through the landscape, the lowering clouds were filled with snapping mouths, the bit flying lizards in two, showering the snow below with blood. A tunnel in the distance had the appearance of a sucking chest wound, opening and closing as though the mountain itself was bleeding.

“Where are we…” Hadrian’s voice crackled over the link but there was no time to speak. We hit the shattered window of the pool car like a cannon ball, crashing down into the water. The jetpack guttered as it went under boiling water around us and filled the air with the smell of the chlorine the trainstaff used. I slapped the release studs and it tore off my shoulders, careening away into a stand of palm trees, smashing several flat before shattering on the wall. We came up gasping for air. Something long and tentacular wrapped around my leg, and I squawked as I was pulled under, I turned in time to see a vast luminous eye that split into thousands of dagger sharp teeth. The tentacle dragged me down, an impossible depth in the real pool. Bolter rounds hissed through the water and burst among the teeth, obscuring the horror in a mist of dark blood. Hadrian’s strong hands grabbed me and hauled me up onto the beach, soaked and gasping for air.

Emmaline stood over the body of the Imperial General just as she had done in reality. Despite the chaos all around her she seemed completely oblivious to us. I hauled myself to my feet. Around us the car was rusting to dust, great holes appearing as the wind whipped the flaking metal away to expose it to the elements. The sand beneath our feet became tomb dust, sticky and coating us like flour.

“Run!” I yelled and pulled Hadrian with me as I sprinted towards Emmaline. She turned towards us with tears in her blue eyes. They widened for a moment and then we were tumbling through. Suddenly we were back in the Ecclesiarchy court room. Emmaline-who-heals things was kneeling over Demick’s mind form, furiously pumping his chest to keep his heart beating. The starched white wimple of her medicare outfit flapping like stubby wings. Arcanemmaline in her long ritual robes was knocking other Emmaline’s back with a long ivory staff. Demick’s body was running, like ink dispersing in water, black and viscous. He was screaming in terror his eyes wide as teacups. Several of the more inquisitive Emmalines were connected to him, their own substance flowing into his, their own screams adding to the sonic assault which broke over us. Arcanemmaline screamed a word of power the moment she saw us and slammed her staff down. A circle of dazzling energy sprung up around Demick, severing the inky tendrils attaching him to the other Emmalines, leaving herself and Emmaline-who-heals things the only ones inside the circle.

“Out! Out! Out!” Arcanemmaline shouted, her voice booming with authority. Hands grabbed Hadrian and lifted him, passing him hand over hand like a crowd surfer at a juvie rave. He passed upwards impossibly lifted into the air, lifting up towards the great stained glass window of the ambiguously uncertain stained glass window representing the Emperor of Mankind, the luminous portrait growing until it filled the entire universe. Hadrian twisted in time to see Arcanemmaline’s staff driving towards Demick’s throat in a death stroke, a sea of Emmaline’s screaming in terror below him, then the gripping hands pitched him straight into the stern and disapproving face of He On Terra.

I gasped with psychic backlash as Hadrian and I snapped back into the physical world. A terrible stench filled my nostrils and tendrils of smoke choked the air. A ten foot circle of expensive carpet had been blackened and burned, the embers of it still smoldering angrily. Every clock in the place was ticking a furious pace, the hands never advancing. Books and papers were scattered everywhere as though flung by a blast wave. Several vases of flowers were wilted, the water inside them boiling. Plasmic residue, a slick slime that combined the smells of the void and deep ocean coated everything inside the circle including the two of us. It was fair to say my white shift was ruined. Nor had I emerged unscathed, blood ran from both my nostrils and was welling up from my pores, a familiar side effect of psykanna over reach. I tasted almonds in the back of my throat, the bitter aftertaste of the poison that had killed Demick. I had pushed myself close to his death in order to keep the mind link going as long as I had, I had pushed it further than I should have. I felt weak and my body trembled with exhaustion. Any minute now the smoke would trigger the fire suppression systems but I didn’t have the energy in me to use my psy to snuff the smouldering carpet.

“That went well,” I said weekly, then vomited black bile over my lap and collapsed.

All Contact Lost: Scifi Apocalypse in a Backwater System.

Damn that is some fleshed out lore!

Also: Dollaroos LOL!

Tyrants of Illiac Bay

"...Really?" Amal demanded the shock evident in his voice. He shook his head as though he couldn't quite believe it. Delphine waited long enough for it to be clear it wasn't associated with the game, then picked up the bottle and took a slug of the stomach warming brandy. She was about to ask another question when a noise downstairs interrupted them. Delphine stood up and peered down to see a non descript man in a black cloak on the ground floor.

"Hello up there," he called up.

"Hello yourself," Delphine called back down, exchanging a look with Amal. She didn't know everyone in a city the size of this of course, but she was pretty sure the man was a stranger.

"I think the bar is closed," she called. The black cloaked man shrugged his shoulders, the gesture revealing the curved hilt of a sword concealed by his cloak.

"And yet here you are," he observed.

"Here we are," Delphine agreed, her tone neither hostile nor exactly friendly.

"Mind if I come up and join you?" he asked. Delphine shared another frightened look with Amal. The thief was impassive, his face closed. Delphine wondered if bounty hunters might be tracking the Red Guard.

"I think we were just leaving," Delphine called. The black cloaked man drew a pouch from his belt and tossed it up. Either by luck or skill it landed on the railing, skidding a few inches before coming to rest without falling off. Delphine didn't touch it, the clink of coin inside was advertisement enough of what was inside. She didn't open it or reach for it just yet, there was always the chance there was a potion or some other thieves trick inside.

"What do you want?" she asked, her hand leaving the hilt of her sword for the first time. To her surprise the bottle of brandy was still in her hand and she took another mouthful.

"I'm always on the look out for people like you, people that can handle themselves." Delphine cocked her head to the side.

"This is a job offer?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"An interview," the black cloaked man replied. He moved so fast that even though she had the high ground he was nearly up the stairs before she could react. She threw out her palm and a bolt of lightning leaped between them, the black cloaked man flicked his hand up for a second and a shield shimmered into existence just long enough to divert the blast to left and right. The balustrade exploded and a section of the wall crisped in lines of black ash. Delphine hurled the bottle of brandy at him and called fire, the spilling brandy fireballed out in a shower of liquid flame. Wrong footed the attacker had to bring his shield back long enough for her to draw her sword and whip it up into a guard. The charged into her, his own sword appearing in his hand as if by magic, drawn back to strike. Amal hit him across the shins with a chair as he cleared the stairwell. The black cloak screamed in pain and went over in a sprawl that he turned into a roll. Delphine cast her hand out called ice, spreading the floor with frictionless ice. Whatever acrobatic trick the man had expected to play devolved into a graceless slide across the frosty conjuration, as he hit the end of the slide he sprung up, twisted around and raised his blade in a guard. There was an audible creak as Amal drew Delphine's bow back, having snatched an arrow from her quiver as she turned. He sighted down it at the interloper's heart.

"Seems like I have come to the right place," the man gasped.

A Hard Rain - Urban Fantasy RP

@POOHEAD189 Abandoning a fellow knight AND a damsel in distress?! Not very knightly behavior!

A Hard Rain - Urban Fantasy RP

Posts for the post gods, words for the word throne.

If you need minor edits or have questions, let me know.

I have moved dramatis persona to the character tab so it doesnt get lost.

@Naril I'll do you prompt as soon as you are able to post :)

A Hard Rain - Urban Fantasy RP

Factions

Wizards - The wizards of Corvus Bay are not united, though several are grouped together from long association basing their power around Corax University and it's campus.

Vampires - All vamprires in the city Duke Vitorio Cassalaro who runs them like a criminal cartel.

The Winter Fae

The Summer Fae

The Presinct -Corrupt mortal cops who are clued in to the supernatural and are set to squeeze it as hard as they can.

Dramatis Persona

Vampires:
Duke Vitorio Cassalaro - Leader of the Vampires
Mateo Cassalaro - Son of the Duke - Deceased (redeceased?)

Wizards:
Edmund Tattersol - The Old Monster
Sophia Tattersol - Daughter of Edmund Tattersol (deceased)

Winter Fae

Kelly Ashler - The Winter Knight

Her hair was incredibly thick, blonde with a tinge of forest green that beglamored the senses. Her eyes were molten bronze, and she was a statuesque woman, taller than most men. Her fashionable cargo pants tucked into her black combat boots, she wore a crimson croptop with suspenders. He'd heard a human familiar describe her as 'a fit worth a thousand ships.... a retro style as deadly as her claymore

Werewolves

Jack O'kane

The leader of the pack, a massively built man with a wild beard and a truly alarming hawaiian shirt

A Hard Rain - Urban Fantasy RP

@POOHEAD189
Kelly Ashler, Winter Knight and mortal champion of the Wicked Fae, had a very pedestrian gunshot wound to the lower abdomen. Blood trickled out, slower than seemed proper and the edges of the wound were pale and chill, the power of Winter working hard to slow the blood flow. There was no exit wound, the bullet evidently still lodged inside of her. Crows began to flutter above, landing in their dozens on the lips of the buildings lining the alleyways. The birds were oddly silent, forgoing their usual incessant cawing. At about the same instant a car turned into the end of the alley, powerful headlights burning into Rupert’s eyes like the glare of some ancient demon. The poetic effect was spoiled when the pulsing blue lights of police lit up, bathing the scene in an epileptic spray of azure light. Metal dumpsters narrowed the alley and prevented the cruiser from advancing. The doors opened and two hulking men in khaki uniform of Highway Patrolmen got out, boots crunching on the loose asphalt. One had a pistol drawn, a mag light rather unnecessarily gripped beneath it, the other held a shotgun at waist height, the cavernous barrel leveled at the Knave Knight’s chest.

“Better step away citizen,” the officer with the mag light cautioned in an official cop voice, dripping with sanctimonious authority. They advanced slowly, gradually occluding the light of their patrol car until they were visible as silhouettes. Both men had little enameled pins in the shape of P on their pocket flash, indicating they were members of the Precinct, a fraternity within the police who thought they knew something about the paranormal. The group didn’t have a good reputation even among the muggle cops. Rumor had it you had to have shot a man on the job to be invited, and they were none to particularly on who or why you did the shooting. Most of the members were city cops though, not highway patrol who, now that Rupert thought about it, were way off their beat to begin with.

“Last chance to beat it before you are shot resisting arrest, leave the frosty bitch and go,” Mag-light said, disengaging the safety on his weapon with a very audible and very ominous click.

Synopsis

Highway Patrol troopers bearing the badge of the Presinct show up for the Winter Knight

________________
@Fetzen

People were pouring out of the building now, the stately doors literally ripped open as screaming men and women, winded from twenty stories of stairs and damp with blood and the reeking stale water of fire suppression sprinklers. Some were wounded, though as many had probably been hurt in the mad crush in the stairwells as in the bombing itself. As the bow wave of humanity passed the seriously wounded began to stagger free, and not just humans. Balthazar could see a lord of the Summer Fae, screaming and tearing at his chest where splinters of steel, the bane of the faery, had been driven into his body by the blast. Then a pair of vampires came out of the doors. They were of the vampiric nobility, among the most powerful of their kind. But they were young, they were wounded, and there was blood everywhere. They went berserk. The nearest of them, a woman with stylish curls and a shiny black evening gown, marred by a piece or rebar through her stomach. Snatched the nearest human and ripped his throat out in a spray of arterial blood. A long dark tongue slathered and licked as she pounced onto the back of another man and started ripping at the back of his throat like a dog on a downed game animal. The male, his tuxedo half blown off by the bomb and with a section of his skull exposed by shrapnel, caught a maintenance worker by the hair and ripped into his neck. Blood sprayed up over his face as he drank the man down like a juice box then tossed him aside, the horrible damage to his face beginning to knit. The fingernails on his left hand extended into talons six inches long and razor sharp and he disemboweled another man with a blow so powerful it lifted him off his feet and tossed him halfway across the street, entrails unwinding like streamers. His eyes were huge and completely black, the predator completely in control, driven only to kill and feed and in that order. The terrible black eyes locked on Balthazar and the vamp leaped for the demon, claws extended and murder on his twisted bestial face.

Synopsis

You are caught in the rampage of blood mad vampires

____________________________________
@Ducksworth

The TV came back on. Breaking news. Some of what you see in the footage that follows might not reflect our station’s views. Explosion at the Tem, cause unknown, casualties unknown, be afraid. Eye witnesses, some covered in dust, provided reports that boiled down to ‘there was an explosion’. Wide angled shots showed police and fire fighters screaming into the parking lot. It was a news bonanza. Almost every network had crews covering the Tem, entertainment reporters who were suddenly getting their first taste of real news. The big names had been on the top floor, but the stringers and the also-rans had been kept outside and their cameras were rolling. 9-11 via TMZ.

The reports were starting to recycle themselves as police forced reporters away from the scene. Talking heads were just getting around to blaming whatever political party they didn’t like when Emyrs’ door smashed open with a cacophony of splintering wood. Burly men in biker leathers crashed into the room, filling the space with the smell of cigarettes, wet fur, and testosterone. Some of them had bats, others had chains, one of them, ominously, had a net. One of the batsmen smashed the tv from its wall mount, apparently out of sheer love of destruction. The patches they wore on their jackets, and the gratuitous tattoos proclaimed them members of ‘The Street Wolves’ a powerful if unoriginal pack of werewolves.
SpongeBob Werewolf netted Quill with surprising dexterity. His hand closed around the neck of the net to seal the familiar inside before vanishing behind the wall of advancing muscle and running out into the hall.

“Nothing personal Harry Potter, but you get more with a kind word and a baseball bat than just a kind word,” the leader of the pack, a massively built man with a wild beard and a truly alarming hawaiian shirt declared, slapping the baseball bat into a meaty palm as he advanced.

“We need you to do us a favor….”

Synopsis

Werewolves break in, kidnap your familiar, and 'ask' for your help

Have At You!!! A Game of Swashbuckling Adventure

Also if we are not prompted can we run with NPCs already named? DOnt want to touch it if we arent supposed to

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I looked away from Hadrian embarrassed by the clumsy contact. I wondered if Emmaline-who-studies or Emmaline-who-practices would have done a better job. There was a slight trembling around us and I brought my emotions under control. Of course not, I was the best Emmaline even if I was far too humble to show it. I suspected that Hadrian would have words with us once he exited the nested mindscape but that was for later and frankly, only partially my problem.

The landscape shifted again and I found myself running across an assault course, probably in the belly of a starship. A psyker with an Imperial Sanctioning mark was lashing at Demick and a half dozen other mercenaries with similar features and coloration. I guessed they had all been recruited from whatever hell world he had come from, somewhere near the Damocles Gulf if the kroot was typical. Burning awls of mental energy lashed out only to vanish a few feet from each man as they encountered the warding necklaces we had been issued to protect us.

“They are training to fight psykers,” I told Hadrian as he caught hold of a rope and swung across a ventilation shaft. “Not that I am really that much of a threat.

“Move damn it! Demick shouted and the scene shifted again.

I found myself looking at a beautiful blonde woman through a high powered skype. She was stunning, but that couldn’t be me could it. Demick knelt behind a high powered las rifle. Despite his apparent concentration he turned to speak to us.

“The key is to control your breathing,” he explained, then pulled the trigger.

Warm autumn air and soft music played across me. I was at a Harvest Ball. Demick was dressed as a servant carrying a tray of drinks. He was wearing a mask that contained a compact pict recorder and was measuring distances and scouting hard points. The style of the richly dressed guests seemed to say Pacitus to me though I suppose the Imperium is vast and I could have been wrong. Demick moved through the ball, busing drinks from various guests before following another waiter back into the food preparation area. Demick closed the door and slid the vertical bolts to close it.

“Hey what are you doing?” a portly man in a spotless chefs tunic demanded. Demick drew a suppressed hand gun and shot the man twice, once in the heart and once in the head. The second waiter also revealed himself as a merc by pulling a gun. Both of the sous chefs fell within a heartbeat and the kitchen maid was just opening her mouth to scream when a bullet splashed a red ribbon of blood and brain across the wall. The whole operation took less than two seconds. Demick and his accomplice crossed the kitchen and opened the walk-in freezer, icy crystals blasting out into the air. The second merc pulled up his black and white tunic and began unwinding something from around his stomach. Of course I recognized it as tubular fiscolene but Hadrian knew such things better than me so I didn’t say anything. They marked out a rectangle on the floor of the freezer, then took cover behind several haunches of beef. There was a flash and crash of explosive detonation and as the smoke was whisked away into the recycler vent we saw a section of floor had been blasted clear and had fallen into the floor below. Demick and his companion leaped down into what appeared to be a data storage annex of some kind and began to pull data cores from racked cogitators and thrust them into a pair of expandable canvas sacks. I was no geographer but I recognized the skyline of Exkultis out of a narrow window at the end of the room.

“Any questions?” a severe looking man in mottled alpine camo demanded. I was squatting beside Demick and Hadrian as we examined a sand table that showed the progress of the Zephyr, with arrows and lines which a party girl like me could not possibly have interpreted as a plan of attack. Black armored landspeeders stood in ranks nearby beside temporary flakboard barracks. A transorbital shuttle with the crest of Van Hagen sat on ice crusted struts. I turned my head to see we were on a small island surrounded by a large icy lake, clearly a staging point of some kind.

“No sir!” The mercenaries chorused and then were up and moving heading to their speeders and checking their weapons. I could faintly hear the whistle of the Zephyr in the distance as it shouldered its way up toward the pass.

“I’m no judge but I think we should think about g…” a trio of kroot leaped from the woods, yelling weird ululating cries. Demick screamed and lifted his las carbine, hosing one of the aliens with las fire. A six legged cat like thing vaulted from behind the speeders and began ripping the commanding officer appart, pulling out ropes of entrails with its teeth, the horrible mouthfuls steaming in the frosty air.

“What in Terra’s name?” Hadrian, now dressed in mercenary armor and carrying an autogun demanded. A blast of heavy bolter fire ripped the cat thing to pieces but six kitchen hands wielding long knives sprang from the resulting offal, they were pale and corpse like their heads disfigured by the bullets that had killed them. One of them ran at me and slashed with his knife, drawing blood as raked up my arm. Hadrian put three rounds into him sending him staggering to the ground.

“His mind…. It is starting to collapse,” I gasped. Either Emmaline-who-knew-occult-lore was starting to lose control, or else Demick’s own mind was starting to react violently to our presence as we left the fog of his memory and reached the clearer recollections that led to his violent and temporarily suspended death. His own memories were starting to rally to try to destroy us, and everything else in this mindscape. One of the airspeeders was rising on its lift fans when a great pterodactyl like creature smashed into it, long claws reaching into the cabin to rip the driver free like the meat of a nut. Gunfire and smoke and the smell of death was everywhere. Demick was on his knees, fingers digging into the bloody sockets of his eyes as he wailed in agony. The very waters of the lake were blackening and growing choppy with omni directional waves, trying to crash in on the island from all directions.

“How do we get out of here?!” Hadrian demanded.

“You want Emmaline-who-explains, she is soooo much better at this sort of thing than I am,” I began. Hadrian slapped me across the face.

“We cannot stay here, tell me how to get us back to…. Wherever we were!”

“Wherever we were… Hadrian you are so smart!” I yelled. One of the kitchen hand corpses rushed me with a cleaver and I extended my hand. Clara Strong, equipped with the ceremonial sword she had used to help me raise the dead, stepped from my palm and in a fraction of a second grew to full size. She decapitated our attacker and charged into the panicked melee sword raised.

“Run for the speeders!” I called, lending what little help I could to Hadrian as he strode towards the speeder. His mercenary gear had gone and now he stood in full inquisitorial regalia, sword drawn. Dark unclean things were stirring beneath the crashing lake and dark tentacles began to slither up onto the shore. Hadrian pulled open the cab door of the nearest speeder, shot the mercenary trying to start it through the head and yanked his body clear.

“How does this help us?” he demanded.

“You should have asked for Emmaline-who-explains-things she is so much better…”

“Emmaline! You know how to get out of this place, tell me thrones sake!” he roared as I bundled into the back of the speaker. The whistle on the Zephyr screamed again, far closer this time.

“In Demick’s memory, Emmaline-who-is-all-of-us is on the train!” I yelled, swinging the heavy bolter mounted in the door and firing a long burst that, by pure luck, ripped one of the flying lizards from the sky.

“If you can get us to her, we can get out, but we have to do it before Demick dies, I don’t know what will happen if his mind collapses before we can get free!”