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I'm a fan of them military things and the big explosions.

I do art.

Art Done for RPGuild threads

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Come on boys don't stop posting. We need a Casual WH40K RP thread to compete with Jbcool and his 600 WH40K Advanced RP threads! JOKING, but no seriously Casual WH40K is a drought and we need to fix it

I'm working on a purple-eyed to help buff the ranks, if you don't mind a Cadian bossing some NPCs around and being a nuisance with his need for more lasguns to protect the train. I just need to sketch up his face and make the sheet and I'll be good to go.
Loud shouting could be heard in the barracks with Nalryn yelling at someone who had replied with honesty, that someone stating that the ship was to leave within the hour and that there was no way to file papers for transfer at the moment even if they could, much to his misfortune Nalryn decided that he was factually incorrect with full confidence (and anger) shouting back that "This is a screwed up joke" and that she "Will never cooperate with any System's Alliance personnel, even if the Reapers invaded at this very moment." which sounded racially motivated, given she was shouting at a human.

A calm and experienced individual who wore a military uniform and by the looks of it, had experienced quite some time in the military assured her that all will be figured out within the following hours, and that her emotional outburst was unneeded and childish, that she should calm down, and then him and the yelled-at fellow both walked away, likely off to professional and important business. Meanwhile, Nalryn loudly groaned and- in both a cartoonish but violent manner -slammed her head into a nearby metal wall. A 'thunk' could be heard as her face plates impacted the wall, before her head receded from the place of impact and covered in shadow, which was slowly removed from the lights above.

She seemed unharmed! And calmer, eyes closed and soon pausing in her movement, standing up straight and loudly breathing in, before slowly breathing out. She did this a couple of times before opening her eyes again, hunched over and arms hanging low, seeming both exhausted and defeated. "Why do I even bother..." She sighed, walking until her legs brought her to a window showing the SSV Minotaur and staring at it with enough sadness to make a Elcor frown! Nothing could change her fate in the slightest, which made her even sadder.
We'll all get out of this alive toootally fine.
Totally. No panicking here, no sir!
Transferring from a Turian colony to the Citadel was a trip filled with baffling directions, depressed refugees, curious sights and sounds, a variety of odd encounters and watchful C-Sec, but the conclusion to this whole trek couldn't even match up to the feelings that Nalryn felt before.

Mass confusion was all that was left of her feelings, with furrowed brows and looking down at her datapad again while the hustle and bustle of the barracks filled the atmosphere. Her eyes curiously scanned the datapad's information again while strangers walked past her, some in a hurry and others relaxed, the noise of which drowned out by her focus and thought, concentrating on the information. The confusion kept rising up in her to the point of wanting to ask anyone the simple question of;

Why in the spirits is she the cook?

Even the frigate's unique SSV Normandy-like shape didn't stand out to her, the impact of such a elegantly built vessel being removed as she kept looking at the datapad. Her eyes would've remained locked to the orange glow of her device if not for a unfortunate shoulder bump into another crew member, whom which she turned on her heels in a quick act of reflex, getting ready to bark at them much like how a drill sergeant would shout at incompetent recruits- but they simply kept walking. Her confusion now was replaced by a gradual rise of anger and frustration, to which to she quickly submitted to, taking off her bag, unzipping it, shoving in the datapad and then zipping it back up so swiftly and filled with anger that the zipper itself could've been pulled off.

Well, if someone had made a severe mistake in placing her on the roster as some sort of food-managing meal-making coward, she would fix that faster then the thrust of FTL travel itself! Nalryn thought to herself while hastily stomping off with much purpose and rage, hoping to find SOMEONE who could explain this entire mishap, all while the anger stayed with such conviction it was as if she was about to emit steam out of sheer rage. Who would have to deal with her next? Whoever had the misfortune of falling into her line of sight.
Oh woops and thats what I get for now remembering things correctly. Meant the M-3 Predator, I'll edit it now, also we could start on the Citadel, give something to post about while we wait.
And I do hope more people join, we need a good Mass Effect thread going!
Character Sheet:

Name: Nalryn Algra

Age: 20

Species: Turian

Gender: Female

Class: Engineer

Image Reference:


Bio/Backstory: Boot camp was the standard for Turian life, 15th birthday and off you go to basic. Nalyrn's life was no different, having grown up on Palaven and was a fervent patriot to the Turian Hierarchy, desperately trying to prove herself to be put with the best unit as possible, to be adequately used to further the causes of her people, to handle the stress and pressure of combat while being able to think and plan, forming solutions on the fly....

Aaand she was a complete failure, an over-emotional, ignorant, easily angered and dreadfully shameful failure. And as such, assigned furthest from any frontline, skirmish, or dangerous area of space as possible.

All that physical effort and thinking however dropped her right into the position of being a combat engineer! Heavy emphasis on combat, command didn't need her near any areas of contention, maybe construct a field base if the situation demanded. But shooting? Never. Nalyrn grew bitter as the years went on and her teen years of service were spent learning better ways to shovel foxholes and set up sandbags and makeshift cover, all while groaning in boredom. She had reached the age of twenty, the reaper invasion was swiftly confirmed and the fear settled in, she had found herself wanting, desperate to fight, desperate to find a enemy and shoot them up in a blaze of bloodlust-driven glory! Despite the fact war was far from such, but inexperience keeps her ignorant.

However, suddenly, work had been filed and the orders came through- she had been selected to join a vessel as one of the crew, to be enlisted in the help against the Reapers on missions specifically meant to really, seemingly, effect something in the galaxy. With all her pride and confidence, she packed her stuff with her and went on her way to join this frigate's recently added and haphazard crew.

But something seemed wrong, this wasn't a turian vessel nor any normal crew. Needing answers, she checked the information again, then the dread and realization had settled in. She was to be the ship's cook. Mess sergeant, chef, what have you, preparing the providing food, this hectic mess of a war had screwed up all the paperwork, right? How could all that effort assign her even farther from her dream of combat? Well, hopefully the complete lack of cooking experience wont cause any poisoning, or worse.

Original 'Position': Combat Engineer

New 'Position': Cook

Equipment: M-3 Predator

Other: (Anything else you feel is missing.)
Hopefully sitting around and building stuff all day doesn't count as a little experience, right? Well if so I'll change her, sorry if the character is too military. Wanted to keep her with a very generic turian military lifestyle but find a way to keep her inexperienced with weapons, combat and all that. And a good way to have prideful hothead who talks shit and gets aggressive thinking they deserve more, because every misfit team needs one.
------------------------------------------
Character Sheet:

Name: Nalryn Algra

Age: 20

Species: Turian

Class: Engineer

Image Reference:


Bio/Backstory: Boot camp was the standard for Turian life, 15th birthday and off you go to basic. Nalyrn's life was no different, having grown up on Palaven and was a fervent patriot to the Turian Hierarchy, desperately trying to prove herself to be put with the best unit as possible, to be adequately used to further the causes of her people, to handle the stress and pressure of combat while being able to think and plan, forming solutions on the fly....

Aaand she was a complete failure, an over-emotional, ignorant, easily angered and dreadfully shameful failure. And as such, assigned furthest from any frontline, skirmish, or dangerous area of space as possible.

All that physical effort and thinking however dropped her right into the position of being a combat engineer! Heavy emphasis on combat, command didn't need her near any areas of contention, maybe construct a field base if the situation demanded. But shooting? Never. Nalyrn grew bitter as the years went on and her teen years of service were spent learning better ways to shovel foxholes and set up sandbags and makeshift cover, all while groaning in boredom. She had reached the age of twenty, the reaper invasion was swiftly confirmed and the fear settled in, she had found herself wanting, desperate to fight, desperate to find a enemy and shoot them up in a blaze of bloodlust-driven glory! Despite the fact war was far from such, but inexperience keeps her ignorant.

However, suddenly, work had been filed and the orders came through- she had been selected to join a vessel as one of the crew, to be enlisted in the help against the Reapers on missions specifically meant to really, seemingly, effect something in the galaxy. With all her pride and confidence, she packed her stuff with her and went on her way to join this frigate's recently added and haphazard crew.

But something seemed wrong, this wasn't a turian vessel nor any normal crew. Needing answers, she checked the information again, then the dread and realization had settled in. She was to be the ship's cook. Mess sergeant, chef, what have you, preparing the providing food, this hectic mess of a war had screwed up all the paperwork, right? How could all that effort assign her even farther from her dream of combat? Well, hopefully the complete lack of cooking experience wont cause any poisoning, or worse.

Original 'Position': Combat Engineer

New 'Position': Cook

Equipment: M-8 Predator

Other: (Anything else you feel is missing.)
Consider me interested as well! Always nice to have something Mass Effect related, especially during the Reaper War and all it's apocalyptic finality.
Better then none!
Gonna bump this up once and see what happens.
As Segmentum Tempestus struggles against the increasing xenos threat, the mighty Hive Fleet Leviathan spearheads into one of the northernmost subsectors, attempting to breach Segmentum Solar and in turn, Holy Terra itself.

In the closing years of the 41st millenium, there is only war.

And in war, the might of TYRANTS.




--------------------------------------------------


Attrition has torn down the defenses of the entire sector. Nothing has stopped the ceaseless and adaptable waves of Hive Fleet Leviathan. Entire worlds have been consumed in a matter of days, the Imperial Navy struggling to transport the guard fast enough, let alone mount an offensive against the xenos menace. Now entire sub-sectors face a near apocalyptic situation of isolation, without reinforcement and unable to flee. Those capable of mounting a defense have organized a huge army on a singular world, one which the hive fleet is heading right towards.

On the small world of Krakof is a sea of imperial servicemen and vehicles of all patterns, concentrating themselves into a defensive position, harassed constantly by the Tyranid infestation. They protect a massive and walled off coastal city that serves as a connection to the last bastion of Imperial civilization, with a massive bridge stretching out to a hive city far off in the distance in the midst of the planet's dangerous ocean. The coastal city itself has become so fortified that it'd make a Cadian feel like they're back home, with enough ammunition and weapons to last a centuries-lasting war. The city walls stand taller than any building, lined with artillery cannons and men watching over the surrounding war zone.

Surrounding this city is mud as far as the eye can see, a wasteland of ruin and smoke rising tall from the ruins of far off cities and destroyed tank formations. Trenches stretch out from the base of the wall and miles outward, filled to the brim with whomever could hold a gun, with bunkers and mines lining stretches of land that the foe would inevitably cross. Despite the numbers, weapons and defenses, despair kept a tight grip over the defenders. With no sign of a navy left to protect them, the Tyranids are bound to win.


---------------------------------------------------------------------

Rules

1. You can be almost any rank/position that you want. Want to be a guardsman scournging around for supplies? Go ahead. A medic trying to keep men alive? Yup. A lieutenant trying to herd a bunch of NPCs around? Uh-huh. A captain who lost his ship and now bums around with his remaining crewmen? I don't mind. Techpriest? Go ahead bro.

However, if I say no or don't like the idea of where your sheet is going, either change it or give me a convincing justification. I don't like limiting people...much.

1.5. However, I said almost. You're not allowed to be Space Marines, nor anything like that. I don't hate the big guys, I just prefer more human characters in this one. Fits the theme of inevitable death and demise better.

2. However you may be abhumans. I fucking swear if there are some god damned catgirls... You can even pilot the smaller knight titans, be techpriests, psykers, go nuts.

3. Another thing, everyone is going to be in the trenches one way or the other. Not literally, but my point is the Tyranids are going to be your characters biggest threat. So as much as I love my logistics, no one is going to be hiding behind the wall. You can serve from the trenches closest to the wall or the trenches farthest from it, or if you're in a huge ass vehicle you can park it somewhere on the remains of the old road stretching out from the wall.

4. Custom regiments/what have you are absolutely allowed, as long as it isn't anything too abnormal or absurd.

5. I don't see myself limiting this numbers-wise, so if you want to join in late feel free. I'm always going to keep a vague mass of NPCs around just in case anyone wants to make a character and pop in out of nowhere.





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How it look? People interested? Someone? Anyone? Spare change? And who needs intro threads am I right?
Oh yeah and since this is casual, minimum of a few paragraphs, and effort put in of course. Probably gonna just paste all this stuff over into the actual thread as well if this kicks off.
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