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(also if you kill an eversor were all gonna die they explode with the foce of a 1000 pound bomb when they die)

(if it has been dicied that the assassin is just uncontiouse)

"those butter-knives wont do anything against me. but the next time you think you can double-cross me...have you ever been violated by a plaguebearer? it will be worse than that."

blood? hello-o?

Asmodius landed on the oilrig and grumbled to himself. He had had to carry Jade all this way. Across the gulf, if that damn Syrath would just leave him alone… striding into the living quarters, the annoyed night lord set Jade down on her bed entered his own quarters. Several minutes later he was sitting on the barge with his a coaxial-double-barreled autocannon in the center. He was staring at what he had hauled in. it was a drop pod. A night lords drop pod, reaching out a shaking hand to touch the stylized lighting, he took a deep breath and opened the pod. Inside was empty aside from the storm bolter inside. Searching around he confirmed it. It was his drop pod. The one that had brought them here. But what was it doing in the gulf?

nones posting...

Can you please stop spamming the thread? If you have more to add to your posts, use the edit function.

And no, no one is posting because it is 6.30 PM in the UK, which means people will just be getting back from school/work/having dinner. It is about noon in the US, which means people will be at work/school, and it is after midnight in Australia, so people will probably be in bed.

Give people a chance.

oh...i my clock says its 9 pm there...


its midnight here anyways...

Jade woke up with an awful pain in her head. “owww…” “warp. What happened?” she muttered and walked out of the room then she remembered. She had been shocked into near unconsciousness by a stun rod and carried back by asmodieus. ‘that was thoughtful of him-wait what?’ she thought most chaos marines would have left her and ran off. Maybe knowing him for the better part of twenty years was a good thing? She walked down the ramp outside of her room and onto the chopper pad, where a gnat had fetched the paper from the city and brought it back. “Huh. So someone bombed the needle.” She said to herself. Looking out at paradisio in the distance she could just make out the people on the beach and the boats offshore. The rig’s tug was drifting about a kilometer away. Picking up a pair of binoculars on the nearby table and bringing them to her eyes she peered through them at the barge



What she saw almost made her drop the binoculars. The drop pod! How they got here! Maybe they could find out what happened to vulcarik!

(OOC: Where exactly do you live Ineptus? I've been racking my brain and I can't recognize that flag.)

If the Outsider had known fear, then perhaps the Goddesses’ display would have intimidated it. As things were, it felt merely a strange hollowness inside. Perhaps it would be killed here, in this dingy and shadowed basement. Maybe it should have been a long time ago. Its only regret was that it would never complete its mission, and Paradiso would be doomed.
Still, it had to try.
The Outsider leaned forward until the chains were noticeably restraining it, and slowly looked up, matching the glimmering orbs of Iris’ eyes with the flaming infernos that seemed to reside within its own. For what seemed like an age, time itself appeared to stop as immortal deity and inhuman freak stared at one another. Then, with a voice that almost snapped with the weight of years and had more in common with the dead and the living, the Outsider spoke.
You really believe you are safe here, Iris.
It wasn’t a question. That would imply it didn’t already know the answer. In response, Iris simply raised one perfect eyebrow. The Outsider took that as permission to proceed.
You believe yourself protected within this palace, safe with your-admittedly not inconsiderable-powers and hulking bodyguard. You fool yourself into thinking that by surrounding yourself with an army of brainwashed cultists and deluded fanatics that you are somehow removed from the dangers of our world. You sit atop your ivory tower and whilst, yes, you do move to aid the city at large, it is highly unlikely you do so out of general benevolence. You have yourself admitted that you are a murderer on a colossal scale, if these tales you spot are true. Of which I am under no illusions. You kill because it helps you Iris-as do I. For all our difference into appearance, for all the variation in our modus operandii, WE ARE THE SAME.
The Outsider stressed that last point, and braced itself. It had noticed Zetes tensing during its speech as if to strike it for its impudence, but the Outsider knew that he would not act without the consent of his mistress. Iris so far had removed silent, her thoughts masked behind an almost doll-like face. The Outsider for a moment wondered if she would brake as easily as a doll. It quickly suppressed the thought-who knows what sort of devices the cultists were using to monitor it?
It wasn’t destroyed in a consuming burst of flame, and so the Outsider continued. Why lock me down here? If I had wished to cause you harm I would have not allowed myself to be captured. I needed this, Iris. I needed to meet with you. You fool yourself if you believe anything else. To try to cross you would not be beneficial-I am not an idiot-but I have no intention of joining your demented cult if that is what you seek. I require information, pure and simple. Information that I believe you and your WFO allies may be able to provide.
The Outsider twisted its head to the side, and once again the smile that was sown onto his suit was genuine.
So, ‘my lady’…do we have an understanding?

As the lift descended a few floors, Ryan formulated his plan. His companion was not on guard, casually rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Big mistake.

Ryan smashed his knee into the mans spine, dropping him to the ground, then picked up his head and slammed it downwards for good measure. He then turned up and shot a force blast into the roof, causing it to shatter into blunt shards and the lift to free-fall. He jumped and caught one of the lift cables and rode it upwards until he saw a service vent. He released the cable and threw his fist into the metal grill, bashing through it. Pulling out the grill, he climbed inside the vent, a snug fit, but room enough for him to maneuver or blast open, and began his journey into the bowels of The Needle. There was something here he needed to see. And quite frankly, Isis was not the kind of person he wanted to spend the rest of his life in service to.

There was a large amount of death in the city that night.
The attack on the needle had caused many deaths, but there had been many other killings that night too.
It was that which drew out the death gods.

Tonight we hunt... Atael said to Haldrax, Tonight we kill in the name of Kalin and Farsax!...
They readied their powers, and made for the portal...

Once outside, they stalked through the streets. Moving from shadow to shadow, back street to back street, until they found their hunting ground. The needle had been attacked, and many people were out in the street investigating. The remains of the Police, and other emergency services in Paradiso were attempting to help, but mostly it was objectors troops investigating. Perfect, thought Atael.

Haldrax began to chant the litanies of necromancery and summoning, and Atael readied his death bolts. The Death Lords appeared quickly from the shadows, an army of undead and spirits streamed out of Haldrax's conjured portal.
They set upon the gathered people like a swarm of insects, ripping and tearing. Inflicting death in more ways than you could ever imagine.
Atael turned, sensing something. A night bus full of night club goers was coming along the road behind him. A bolt of energy burst forth from his skeletal hand and hit the bus directly in the fule tank. The explosion vaporised the bus, and a good portion of the road underneath it.
With that, the death lords returned to the shadows, letting their summoned minions return to the energy and bodies they once were...


OOC: I hope this is ok, and fits with the story. I have tried my best but I have got a bit lost with some parts of the story line. Just tell me if there is something wrong.

(I live in Kathmandu, nepal)

(OOC: Nepal, that's it! I knew I recognised it from somewhere.)

ninga'ed and yes. the only attack on the needle was an unkowen suicide bomber (it wasn't asmodius he is trying to be diplomatic)

ineptus astartes wrote:Nepal.

Do you speak Nepali?

Vulkaric in Chains.

His name. him. Himself. A being of power.

In the street. Bodies fell. The grim reaper had his harvest. The corpses smoked and crackled with lighting dancing across their surfaces. One massive figure lowered his staff.

Herald of change.

As the bodies of the pedestrians littered the noonday sidewalk the master of death disappeared. When houses fell, when heroes died fighting a malevolent enemy clad in amour, no one knew what it was.

Vulkaric in Chains.

The name he was given. His very mention brought men to their knees. He was a terror of the warp. A lord.
He went to the docks. he took a ship. An oil rig was barly audible as a speck on the midday horizon. They had found him.

Vulkaric in Chains.

Kasrkai wrote:

ineptus astartes wrote:Nepal.

Do you speak Nepali?

why yes. (some anyways I am still learning ) the main reason I am here is that my dad is nepali.

Iris looked into the eyes of the Outsider. If she didn't have supreme control over her body she might have smiled. Unlike her meeting with Ryan, here she was counting on the Outsider believing he still held the upper hand despite being in a position that would break most others. Events that she had set into motion millennia ago were coming to a head like the thunderstorm of a butterfly's wings. An uncountable number of interactions and reactions culminating in the this conversation.

She carefully inclined her head, as if contemplating what had been said.

"The information that you need will be provided to you."

She turned and Zetes unlocked the cell door and allowed her to step through into the corridor. The Outsider saw her turn into the corridor before she disappeared, her robes swirling around her limbs as she moved. Zetes stepped over to the outsider and gestured. Obviously whoever was observing the cell understood it as a command as the chains restraining the Outsider snapped open and fell to the ground. Zetes reached into his jacket pocked and pulled out a data slate. "This should have the information that you require. It will also allow you to contact us and access certain areas of our data network. It will be monitored and any attempt to access material you are not authorised to will be considered a breech of your... understanding with Lady Iris." He passed the slate over. "You are free to move about the public areas of the Needle. If you require access to any other area, you must gain permission from myself or the duty security controller."

He turned and walked to the door. "The guards will escort you to the lobby, where you will be free to go about your business." With that he left, following Iris down the corridor. A guard took his place in the doorway. "Whenever you are ready, I will escort you to the surface sir." he said.



Zetes stepped into the elevator with Iris. The doors closed and she pressed the button to return her to her apartments. As the lift rose she spoke to Zetes. "You have dispatched a medic to see to Michael? And a maintenance team to the lift?"

"Yes my lady, though unfortunately both have suffered significant damage in the crash. We are tracking Mr Battles through the buildings security system."

Iris smiled.

(I just noticed something. with all this RPing we [me included] are meraculasly finding new ways to outdo the other., we should have a sane limit on the luck/powers of our characters)

(OOC: Ooh, interesting. I admit I pre-empted something like this, but still.
I'd like to point out that I probably will not be able to contribue until thursday, so assume that the Outsider is lurking somewhere within the Needle's lobby. Silver, if the need arises I designate you as my deputy-in-chief of RP'ing it.)

[OOC: No worries LLF]

Syrath smiled as he moved the figures into position on his map of the city with his cat who simply pushed them with his paws, the dead alien guards had been removed after the Night Lord fled from the Labs. Syrath then sat at his desk and smiled and played one of his favorite songs. Its the End of the World as we know it.

(note: I will be posting a Jade POV in a few seconds and as she is cloaked [and has nothing but good intentions in mind] Syrath and the other PCs will not know of it)

(OOC: dont be alarmed silver. nothing bad is gonna happen)


Jade was crouched on a condo directly across from the needle. She had supplies, ammo, batteries, a medkit, and some heavy firepower. This, combined with a cloaking device that was ludicrously hard literally impossible unless you had 41st millennium tech, she watched the building through th scope in her bugger-rifle. The bugger was a harmless weapon that shot microtech eavesdropping bugs with pinpoint accuracy, the bugs were equipped with a tungsten penetrating tip to bore through windows and were only about the size of a large period. she had shot the bugs into the building out of boredom and was listening to the uninteresting conversations of brainwashed cultists.


Setting aside her ‘bugger’ she reached for her rail rifle and looked down into the scope. As she saw the wall side elevator rise she watched ads Iris and a large man raised onto the tower-top. She pulled out a camera and snapped a few photos of iris before switching her barrel to thermal targeting and almost dropping the rail rifle when she saw a figure crawl through the vents. Pulling off her skull-mask she looked through the magnetic weapon again. He was still there. “what a bunch of nuts…” she muttered to herself before aiming a grapnel-gun might as well talk to him. Or give him to the cultists. Either way it improves my standing”

(OOC) I'm not sure that the 40,000 background for you're characters is a good thing, basically you have amazingly advanced technology and are extremely heavily armored while also being fast.

Ryan crawled along the vents until he reached grill over looking a sort of library. Exactly where he wanted to be. He tore out the grill fell down onto the wool carpet below. He slowly turned and saw that it was empty, save for the three cameras watching him. He didn't care. Towers of books and shelves surrounded him, with titles of all shapes, sizes and colors. Lost works of Shakespeare, Ancient Diaries of Babylonian kings, and some he never heard of. Not too surprising. He approached a shelf on the far-side, filled with old texts and classic novels. All organized by name. He traced his finger over the labels of the shelf. A...... B....... C...... D. Da.... De. Decks, Deafness, Death, Devils, Dew. Ah ha he thought. There it is. "On Demons and Dances". Possibly the last copy on earth. Or beyond. He flipped it open and surfed a few pages. Yes this was the real deal. He placed it in his jacket and walked to the door. Just before he left, he turned to the camera, lifted his hand, and made a rather rude gesture.

OOC: Is my post ok then?

(the fast thing is because they are high on explosive meth most of the time)

(Still I don't think the RPG should be connected to 40K It just doesn't make much sense.)

(it is part of my plotline and I can not RP on dakka without using a semblance at least of 40k now I have been RPing on this for a while and will not change my character.)