Pripovednik

"It's inside of us all..." - WH40K Chaos-based/Black Crusade RP

Perhaps, maybe, we'll see...

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

Dry.

Dry was how Dagmar liked his terrain, dry open fields of long red grass or sloping tundra mountains with vast expanses of scratching undergrowth. The tunnels Dagmar drudged through currently were wet and unpleasant, the dark he could deal with however. He had been walking for some time when he realized he'd lost his orientation, he knew if he turned back he would be doubly lost, so he kept his right foot in front of his left and the vice versa.

Upon arrival on the station, he had noted how the grain of most streets ran into the city center, they must have been put down from the outside in. He could tell by touching the slimy ceiling that he was heading to the outer rims, but he needed to get above ground, he couldn't take this shit anymore - literally, the shit was unbearable.

The first ladder his strained eyes came across on his next turn, he would take, he decided. On his next turn he took a left, and was instantly confronted by the steel bars of a metal ladder. It would seem fate was easing up on him, but he had been at the eye of many storms, and this felt a lot like those.

Gripping the cold but secure ladder, Dagmar climbed slowly, taking the time to keep his feet steady. When he reached the top of the ladder he pushed his forearm up above his head and drove his legs up. The latch clicked, and the top receded.

<--- Angria: The Grey Wolf ---> Dungeons & Dragons

As the adventuring party made there way through the forests, it greeted them with deep growls of ancient trees and whispers from their children leaves, the soft and crisp padding of the dead beneath their feet rustled with each step. Upon reaching the small cliff, you notice a fire, its embers long put out, but still the faint aroma of smoke sits in the air.

Beside it lays a satchel of no notable worth, its linen embroidery crusted with a slash of dried blood.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

I feel like I'm picking on you now.

@Jbcool

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

It wouldn't be unlike cool to toss some trouble.

Hi there.

Hello Mr Longschlong, if you step wrong, your Schlong won't be long, by the end of this song.

Dong.

Wong.

Long? No already said that...

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

@Jbcool

Everyone who knows what Dagmar looks like slaughtered while he escapes through the dark tunnels below, the big gang too busy fighting off pockets of little gangs to notice he's gone, you mean? Sounds good to me.

EDIT: He isn't leading them, they are going to take on the Fist so he's ruffled their feathers and given them some helpful advice. Nothing like a good execution and speech to get your submissive side working.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

Repercussions

Dagmar looked back at his bloodied face with irritation, his unblinking eyes reflected in his sword as he cleaned it. He now had all of his sharp weapons on his person, his four throwing knives, two duel wields, his two handed Glaive Blade and crossbow. Dagmar finished cleaning his Glaive Blade and pushed the silk rag into his back pocket, blowing away the dust, he gripped the handles and reached back to slide it into its sheath.

Lifting himself from his unwelcoming bed, he stood silently in front of the grubby mirror and adjusted his collar, craning his neck left and right to check for any cuts. Content with the lack of injury to his visage, Dagmar cupped his hands and brought tepid water up to his face, wincing faintly as a veiled cut in his brow stung.

Dagmar leant forward, his jacket tightening around his wide shoulders, to rub the specks of black and crimson away. Unexpectedly a muffled moan came from beside him, accompanied with agitated shuffling among further awkward noise. Turning on his left foot, Dagmar’s leg whipped straight and his firm boot connected with the right side of Agmar’s face, the slum-lord cried out from behind his gag in pain.

“Shut it. I told you when I bought the room, don’t touch the blades! What did you go and do?”

Agmar didn’t respond. The thieving bastard had taken them from his room and was in the act of hiding them away when Dagmar caught him, he wasn't even going to clean them before he sold them, animal.

“What did you do!?”

A desperate look came over the weasel’s face, confusion sprouting at the rims. Looking up at Dagmar he raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened, Dagmar glared back at him as he waited for a reply.

“Ah-e tehurshed dah bwages...?” Agmar hoped this was the right response; his muffled speech dried his mouth and lips.

“That’s right. You touched the blades.”

Dagmar said with a smile, lifting Agmar to his unsteady feet and turning him towards the open window. Pulling the gag from his vile mouth, Dagmar let it hang around his neck; Agmar spat and worked his tongue around his lips to get rid of the metallic taste the wire had left behind.

“What will you – “Agmar started but was interrupted.

“Did I tell you to speak, maggot?” Dagmar shouted into his ear, Agmar could have sworn he heard a crowd cheer below him.

Dagmar slowly coiled the wire around his arm like a snake, careful not to let a single loop go amiss, when finally it was all there he let it slide down his forearm and into his hands. He pushed the metal bolt it was attached to into his crossbow and aimed the bolt at Agmar’s head.

“No! Please no! I beg of you – “Agmar almost got down on his knees but Dagmar heaved him back up and cut him short once more.

“DO NOT SPEAK!” He yelled at almost his greatest volume.

Agmar was definite he heard a crowd cheer this time, clapping and shouting below the window; his eyes began to water and redden. Struggling with his constraints he moved this way and that. But Dagmar had a hard grip on him - he would not let him shift.

“You do not deserve an execution such as that.” He said more quietly.

Lifting the crossbow he fired the bolt into the dusty pillar at the centre of the room, the bolt broke through the other side and its blades unravelled into a hook of sorts.

Agmar now sobbed loudly to himself, his choices had caught up with him and his regret was not of sentiment but of self preservation and survival. He tried wiggling his wrists from the rope that tied them together, but it was no good. He only wished now that he had told that ugly girl Fearis he liked her when he was a child, for maybe things wouldn’t of –

Dagmar kicked Agmar through the open window and let the metal wire run through his hands as the coward screamed, sliding through his fingers like silver water; he jumped back as it snapped straight and the screaming stopped, unsure about the integrity of the pillar. Walking over to the window he peered down the 5 floors below to see the sea of Blue Viruses all cheering as Agmar hung at the neck. One senior member threw a ball of blue paint at the body, and they all cheered doubly as their trophy was stained with their gang colours.

“This is what happens to your enemies!” Dagmar announced a war rally from his feral roots, pointing to the corpse that hung 2 floors from the ground.

“Tonight, a new power will rise! Call your allies, let it be known! The Bloodied Fist shall fall!” With this he brandished his Glaive Blade and thrust it into the air.

The crowd erupted with guttural roars and endless cheering, specks of blue running this way and that to spread the word, others heaving weapons into the slum.

---

Retreating back into his lowly room, Dagmar pushed at his earpiece thrice and waited impatiently.

“Yes?” Came an official female voice.

“Dagmar for Mathias” He replied hurriedly.

“Connecting...”

“Dagmar! What is it man? Do you know what time it is?” Mathias was an old and hefty fellow, an aristocrat if ever there was one.

“I need your help, I’m on 57.” Dagmar had no time to chat; he walked to the elevator as he talked.

“What can I do, by the Emperor, name it!” He was always one to make things sound dramatic.

“I need firepower, or a quick way out.” He pushed the button for the ground floor and waited. Gunshots sounded out side.

“I’ll have Rewert look into a way out, I’m sending a squad to you now. They have been underground for a bit, so I don’t expect they’ll be ready for an hour or so.” Rewert was also a fat man, not out of excess, but simply trying to fit in.

“I’m at the crossroads slums. 43.53.” Dagmar informed, you never know where things are unless you make a note.

“Yes, your earpiece has a tracker installed. Rewert suggests making your way to the outposts station, there are a few passenger ships and a trader docked.” Rewert was also rather ugly the poor man, again, not because he wanted to be, just bad luck. Dagmar had always found him repulsive, anyway.

“I’ll make my way there. I noted some underground passage ways that will make for a faster journey.” More gunshots fired outside, the elevator door opened clumsily.

“Good good. Take care of yourself, I’ll have the squad follow your tracker then shall I?” Always polite, even at the worst of times, never dropping the act.

A Blue Virus slicer was smacked against the elevator buttons as a grenade went off, Dagmar quickly stepped out before the doors shut once more, pulling out his duel wields as he did so.

“Yes, that would be great! Out.” Dagmar shouted over to the gunners outside to pull back and fortify the door, the doormen was one of them, he gave a quick nod and pulled the other two back by their collars.

He himself made his way down into the basement, in search of the passageways he had noticed on his previous scans.

Death=][=Watch - A 40K (high casual/low advanced) Deathwatch RP

Tolevius

Name:
Tolevius Mexus

Chapter:
Night Swords

Chapter Demeanour:
The Battle-Brothers of the Chapter excel at rapid strikes and lightning raids, a trait which extends to every facet of their character. They are as quick to anger as they are to jest. They can be impatient, yet display great personal initiative. While not rash or foolhardy, the Night Swords believe in the value of immediate action over protracted planning.

The Night Swords believe their fallen heroes reside in the deepest deserts as elemental spirits. The chapter's Chaplains make regular pilgrimages into the dune seas, residing in simple caves for many days and nights until thirst and exposure cause them to undergo overpowering visions in which they receive the wisdom of their predecessors. These practices have put the Night Swords at odds with the Ecclesiarchy, who consider them esoteric beliefs which go against the Imperial Creed.

Personal Demeanour:
Like many of his chapter Tolevius is eager to take action against his foe, and to do so quicly and mercilessly. However, like any good space marine worth his metal, he knows how to work with a team effectively. When it comes to interacting with other chapters and marines, Tolevius is welcoming of support and company, as long as this is reciprocated.

Like the Night Swords first Chapter Master, Tolevius has a hatred of chaotic powers, but more so of Orks. In particular, Orks of the Empire of Charadon led by Warlord Snagrod, who his chapter have had to keep at bay while rebuilding their numbers.

Speciality:
Close Combat & Support

Rank:
Librarian

Power Armour History:
The armour of Tolevius is of no significance, it has seen war and death, but not of notable magnitude. However, Tolevius believes he is bound to it in spirit and millennia after his death his chapter will hold it in greet esteem. Such confidence is what drives him forward when he dons the armour.

Description:
Beneath his chapters dark purple and green armour, Tolevius' hair is shaven but prominently black and his left eye is a biotic replacement. Beside the glowing red of his augmentation is a deep white scar that runs from his brow to his lip, a reminder of his time in the hive city. His own eye is a dark blue and his skin an even darker brown.

Skills:
Psychic Ability and combat expertise.

History:
Before his recruitment Tolevius was a member of a viscous underhive gang named The Buzzers. So called as they would purse their lips and make buzzing sounds to let their presence be known. Approached by a chapter representative, Tolevius and many of his fellow gang members were persuaded by the promise of glory and importance to undergo the trail.

Forced to make their way across the vast expanse of arid wasteland to the Chapters Fortress Monastery, he and a dozen more walked for nearly a one hundred kilometres before the first fell. They dropped like stones onto the dry river beds, very few made it past eight hundred kilometres. Faced with deadly native creatures and raging dust storms, he almost did not make the trek, but the hope of a new life gave him strength.

Once he and one other, Mortem, reached the Monastery, they were given the chance to become Aspirants. They went through intensive training, forced to live on the bareness of the waste and to grapple for hours on end in the dust. The tests and lessons seemed never ending, but they both made it through to the end, receiving their implants and so forth.

Both Tolevius and Mortem became Scout Marines for The Night Swords on Lavantia, travelling the sectors of the planet for signs of Xenos or Chaos to extinguish, the occasional heretic and Ork scout party was encountered over the 4 years of their service as scouts.

After these 4 years the two became Space Marines and joined 6th company to confront an Ork threat in the region. When the company touched down on planet, they were instantly met with a large Xeno force led by Warlord Snagrod, they were outnumbered. Calling in reinforcements, the company bunkered down under heavy fire and losses, Ork charges broke through into their ranks. Battling face to face with the Xeno scum, many fell to the green tide, including mortem.

Struck by grief and rage, Tolevius fought with such passion that his brothers were forced to restrain him, lest he run headlong into the enemy alone. Unknown to him and them was his psychic powers, and abruptly it was evident, as his mind lashed out at a charging wave of Orks and sent many of them flying into the sky.

After reinforcements arrived and the green skins retreated off planet, Tolevius was brought back to the Fortress Monastery and became a Librarian. He fought against many foes for the following few years, but on the 15th year of his service, he fought his greatest foe. When reports indicated an Ork threat in the system, 2nd and 3rd company were sent to investigate.

Once again Warlord Snagrod had gathered a mighty force, but The Night Swords were ready. Both sides clashed in a bloody field of death, but Tolevius had only one target - Snagrod. He blamed the Warlord for the death of his former brothers, particularly Mortem, and wanted revenge. So blinding was his need for revenge, Tolevius knocked foe and ally aside as he charged forward.

Grappling with the brute as he had once grappled with Mortem in the sand, Tolevius gave no quarter. Building up a powerful psychic strike, the force backfired against his blood lust and sent Ork and Night Sword flying,
he fell unconscious on the battle field.

He awoke in the Monastery, 3 weeks later, and was advised by his senior Librarian to save himself away from war. Naturally, Tolevius refused profusely, and so he was sent to the Death Watch, where he could do no harm to his chapter.

Equipment and Armament:
Curved Power Sword of The Night Swords
Storm Bolter
Psychic Hood

Psychic Abilities:
Smite- The Librarian shoots bolts of lightning from his finger-tips, rending his foes with psychic energy.
Force Dome- A force field is created around the Librarian and nearby companions, protecting them from harm.
Mind Whip- The Librarian swats away his foes with the wave of his arm. Can also be used to pull foes toward him.
Night Shroud- The Librarian reaches into his enemies' minds, obscuring himself and his companions from their sight.

Let me know if you want anything altered :)

Death=][=Watch - A 40K (high casual/low advanced) Deathwatch RP

I will need more time for my CS @Jbcool RL shizzle + homework has drained my time/ability to write.