Lotta Pumpkins Member
I'm not a rapper
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- Lotta Pumpkins 12 yrs ago
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That's fine
edited.
Space Shark kill bot, Ultramarine techie, Blood angel sanguinary priest, Dark Angel tac marine.
Alright, vote for tyranids received
Roger. I'll make changes when I get home
I just went off of Rcpwhite having one, so i thought everyone was going to have one
Name: Arkhas, The Slaughter
Chapter: Carcharadons Astra, Aka Space Sharks
Equipment: Mark 6 “Corvus” Power armor, Eviscerator chainsword, bolt pistol, power gladius, digital weapons.
Biography: Arkhas was born a slave boy on some distant planet, beyond the Emperor’s holy gaze. He would only reach the age of 9 before the Space Sharks descended on the planet, like terrifying angels. They decimated the infrastructure of the world in a day. The militaries were leaderless and in shambles after 3. Total surrender was on day 4. The male children age 13 and below were taken on day 5, and on day 6, the planet burned, with it’s 3 million population of heretics. Arkhas remembers none of this, save for somewhere deep in his reptile brain.
At the age of 19, he complete scout training, and was inducted into the actual chapter proper. The Space Sharks however, are nomadic, and instead of being organized into official companies, they are assigned to ships. Each ship captain, also serves the same role as a company captain, leading his men as he sees fit. Arkhas was assigned to serve on the Nicor. It was from here he would conduct his terrifying raids for 200 years, adept as tactical and devastator marines, and master of assault. He was an angel of death on wings of flame, steed of steel, or born aloft in a land speeder. So it was here he would remain, for 200 years, before elevating to the Red Brethren, an inner circle of butchers allowed to fight in Terminator armor. In another decade he was in command of them. After four more decades of command, passing all chances at captain, he took the position of the chapter champion. He held this title for 20 years, before being sent to the Deathwatch for service.
Notable Achievements: Served two decades as the Chapter champion, losing only one singular combat. Served in the Badab war with honors. Killed 50+ heretics in the storming of Badab Primaris. Bested an entire squad of Khorne Beserkers in single combat.
Physical Description: Arkhas stands at a daunting 7 feet tall, a hulking barbarian. His skin, when seen, is a pale white, the color of a sheet, due to the mutated genes that mark his chapter. His eyes are a pair of black soulless pits, showing no emotion except for disdain. His left arm is no longer flesh and bone, and is robotic from his shoulder down. It is crude, and seals against the outside atmosphere, and serves as a constant reminder to the only time he has failed in his duties.
In armor, Arkhas always wears his “beak” helmet, and has the black armor of the deathwatch. His left arm is already silver metal, but he still wears the Inquisitorial shoulder pad. His right arm bears the shark of his chapter. On his back in his massive two handed chainsword, and on his right hip is his bolt pistol, his gladius being opposite on the left. Dangling from his neck, are several necklaces, with predatory animal’s teeth and jawbones, each one with delicate scrimshaw etched into it.
Class: Assault Marine
Personality: The word Cold would describe Arkhas the best, and even then, it might be too friendly. Outside of combat, he is quiet, not due to having a lack of words, but due to rarely wishing to impart his thoughts. Below the surface however, is a seething rage, waiting to boil over. In combat, Arkhas comes alive, painting with the color red, carving his way through battle formations. He feels no Joy, no pride. Nothing during this time, except for a deep anger and hatred, and a calm, collected, savage butchery. Arkhas believes in no higher powers, except for the armor he is clad in, and the weapons he uses to smite any in his path.
If anyone has an ideas for what the missions will be, or aliens they want to fight, make your case heard now. I'll take any suggestions by thursday night, so friday night/saturday morning I can post the thread proper and get this rolling.
Chapter: Carcharadons Astra, Aka Space Sharks
Equipment: Mark 6 “Corvus” Power armor, Eviscerator chainsword, bolt pistol, power gladius, digital weapons.
Biography: Arkhas was born a slave boy on some distant planet, beyond the Emperor’s holy gaze. He would only reach the age of 9 before the Space Sharks descended on the planet, like terrifying angels. They decimated the infrastructure of the world in a day. The militaries were leaderless and in shambles after 3. Total surrender was on day 4. The male children age 13 and below were taken on day 5, and on day 6, the planet burned, with it’s 3 million population of heretics. Arkhas remembers none of this, save for somewhere deep in his reptile brain.
At the age of 19, he complete scout training, and was inducted into the actual chapter proper. The Space Sharks however, are nomadic, and instead of being organized into official companies, they are assigned to ships. Each ship captain, also serves the same role as a company captain, leading his men as he sees fit. Arkhas was assigned to serve on the Nicor. It was from here he would conduct his terrifying raids for 200 years, adept as tactical and devastator marines, and master of assault. He was an angel of death on wings of flame, steed of steel, or born aloft in a land speeder. So it was here he would remain, for 200 years, before elevating to the Red Brethren, an inner circle of butchers allowed to fight in Terminator armor. In another decade he was in command of them. After four more decades of command, passing all chances at captain, he took the position of the chapter champion. He held this title for 20 years, before being sent to the Deathwatch for service.
Notable Achievements: Served two decades as the Chapter champion, losing only one singular combat. Served in the Badab war with honors. Killed 50+ heretics in the storming of Badab Primaris. Bested an entire squad of Khorne Beserkers in single combat.
Physical Description: Arkhas stands at a daunting 7 feet tall, a hulking barbarian. His skin, when seen, is a pale white, the color of a sheet, due to the mutated genes that mark his chapter. His eyes are a pair of black soulless pits, showing no emotion except for disdain. His left arm is no longer flesh and bone, and is robotic from his shoulder down. It is crude, and seals against the outside atmosphere, and serves as a constant reminder to the only time he has failed in his duties.
In armor, Arkhas always wears his “beak” helmet, and has the black armor of the deathwatch. His left arm is already silver metal, but he still wears the Inquisitorial shoulder pad. His right arm bears the shark of his chapter. On his back in his massive two handed chainsword, and on his right hip is his bolt pistol, his gladius being opposite on the left. Dangling from his neck, are several necklaces, with predatory animal’s teeth and jawbones, each one with delicate scrimshaw etched into it.
Class: Assault Marine
Personality: The word Cold would describe Arkhas the best, and even then, it might be too friendly. Outside of combat, he is quiet, not due to having a lack of words, but due to rarely wishing to impart his thoughts. Below the surface however, is a seething rage, waiting to boil over. In combat, Arkhas comes alive, painting with the color red, carving his way through battle formations. He feels no Joy, no pride. Nothing during this time, except for a deep anger and hatred, and a calm, collected, savage butchery. Arkhas believes in no higher powers, except for the armor he is clad in, and the weapons he uses to smite any in his path.
If anyone has an ideas for what the missions will be, or aliens they want to fight, make your case heard now. I'll take any suggestions by thursday night, so friday night/saturday morning I can post the thread proper and get this rolling.
Eric Ruven was sitting across from the female marine, although he had made no attempt to bond with her, or anyone on the flight. Chinooks were loud, and it would make for a yelling match across the chassis of the helicopter. Instead, he put on his hoodie, the only non-military piece of clothing he had, put the hood up, stuffed his blouse into his Kevlar helmet, and went straight to sleep. Being in the Air Force, and used for a lot of Search and Rescue missions, Ruven was accustomed to the hum and drum of helicopters, and found no difficulty into falling asleep, for the entire ride.
It wasn’t until the pilot chimed into his ear that they were approaching the landing site that he woke up. He groggily blinked a few times, and reached down, un-blousing his boots. They were down range now, and he was already disregarding several military rules that only served to make deployed life more difficult. He took off the hoodie, and stuffed it into his duffle bag, and put his blouse back on, with the sleeves rolled up to his biceps, exposing his tattoo. He tied the Shemagh around his neck, so he could quickly pull it up over his mouth, and grabbed his ballistic goggles, and put them on, just on his forehead.
Now that he was awake and ready, he took a moment to appraise each person on board. The Chinese scientists were just here for the Alien bullshit, something he really didn’t think he believed yet. The actual soldiers had hate in their eyes, a product of their new world leader position and decades of indoctrination and imperialism. “Yeah? Well fuck you too”, Ruven thought to himself. The Ghurka looked professional, the Libyan looked lost, and indian and his two “friends” in the staring contest looked likely to kill each other as soon as they were left alone.
He continued appraising the American Soldier. Seemed cocky with little reason for it, at least, no reason that he could see yet. The Female marine looked a little too hooyah for him. But he figured she’d loosen up on some regulations once she spent enough time down range, most people did eventually. He looked at the Japanese soldier, who brought a sword to a gun fight. And if aliens were involved, probably was going to be a high tech gunfight. Ruven rolled his eyes, not caring if it was noticed. He knew the training and missions he had been on would allow him to hold his own with any of these people, and as far as he could see, he was the only medic. So god help them if they pissed him off, and got a leg blown off.
When the helicopter did touch down, Eric grabbed the Shemagh, and pulled it up over his nose, and his goggles down over his eyes. He picked up his duffle bag, and slung it on his back, and grabbed his rifle, slinging it as well. He clipped on his pistol, and with his medical bags in his right hand, and helmet in his left, he disembarked the helicopter, into the whirling sandstorm. As he passed the U.S. Soldier, he shook his head, in disbelief, seeing his safety off. The chinook engines were too loud to say something to him now, but Ruven was definitely going to say something to him later, when he had a moment.
It wasn’t until the pilot chimed into his ear that they were approaching the landing site that he woke up. He groggily blinked a few times, and reached down, un-blousing his boots. They were down range now, and he was already disregarding several military rules that only served to make deployed life more difficult. He took off the hoodie, and stuffed it into his duffle bag, and put his blouse back on, with the sleeves rolled up to his biceps, exposing his tattoo. He tied the Shemagh around his neck, so he could quickly pull it up over his mouth, and grabbed his ballistic goggles, and put them on, just on his forehead.
Now that he was awake and ready, he took a moment to appraise each person on board. The Chinese scientists were just here for the Alien bullshit, something he really didn’t think he believed yet. The actual soldiers had hate in their eyes, a product of their new world leader position and decades of indoctrination and imperialism. “Yeah? Well fuck you too”, Ruven thought to himself. The Ghurka looked professional, the Libyan looked lost, and indian and his two “friends” in the staring contest looked likely to kill each other as soon as they were left alone.
He continued appraising the American Soldier. Seemed cocky with little reason for it, at least, no reason that he could see yet. The Female marine looked a little too hooyah for him. But he figured she’d loosen up on some regulations once she spent enough time down range, most people did eventually. He looked at the Japanese soldier, who brought a sword to a gun fight. And if aliens were involved, probably was going to be a high tech gunfight. Ruven rolled his eyes, not caring if it was noticed. He knew the training and missions he had been on would allow him to hold his own with any of these people, and as far as he could see, he was the only medic. So god help them if they pissed him off, and got a leg blown off.
When the helicopter did touch down, Eric grabbed the Shemagh, and pulled it up over his nose, and his goggles down over his eyes. He picked up his duffle bag, and slung it on his back, and grabbed his rifle, slinging it as well. He clipped on his pistol, and with his medical bags in his right hand, and helmet in his left, he disembarked the helicopter, into the whirling sandstorm. As he passed the U.S. Soldier, he shook his head, in disbelief, seeing his safety off. The chinook engines were too loud to say something to him now, but Ruven was definitely going to say something to him later, when he had a moment.
Be a techmarine. Only thing off limits that I can think of are Captains, and Grey Knights. I suppose I'll extend it to being the head librarian, master of the forge, or head chaplain of your chapter as well.
Yeah, that's perfectly fine
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