Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

Do they have noses?

Anyway, I'll go prod Ghosty to post his character and then we'll start. Hopefully. Been pretty ill guys, so that's mainly why. Damned nurgle..

Prod me?!

me?

being prodded?!


On a serious note, is the character ok? not too OP?

Tbh, I've forgotten everything about it lol.. I'll leave you to post it here... cba to search through my inbox to find it.. xd

fail

Kharnflakes wrote:fail

That's me in a nutshell.
































LOLnot.

cmon ghosty post that character so we can start i really wanna play

.......

Well, I guess I may as well.

ghosty wrote:Its the 40k equivalent of someone filling a cigarette with crack

Effilion Rexus
Gender: Male
Planet of origin: a planet which orbits no sun (Classified)
Skin colour: Grey, with the obvious blue veins visible.
Age: somewhere between 50 to 80
Height: six foot four
Personality: Effilion is a horrible character, an assassin who’s become renowned amongst certain circles as the worst possible way to kill someone. He delights in the pain of others, his preference pyskers. Effilion was brought up to hate all pyskers, and as such, mistrusts all 'gifted' people. Being a Culexus, Effilion sparks revulsion within anyone who spends prolonged contact with him.
Appearance: He wears a night black synth skin and a combat harness over the top. Attached to that, is three psyk-out grenades, a combat knife, and a 4ft monofilament back assassination blade. In addition to this, Effilion also has his Animus Speculum, and his bladed fingers. Whenever he's unmasked, It is noted that his face resembles the skullish mask he wears, with sunken eye sockets, and stretched skin. He has no lips or eyelids... He's a nice guy to meet in a dark alley *nods*
Weapons and equipment: Animus Speculum, Assassination blade, Combat knife, psyk out grenades.
Skills: He's an assassin....
Brief History: He was thought to have died on the planet Pyranda IV, but he's back, and he's got some new tricks.
Other: Effilion has a new found respect for the 'grunts'. He will probably stick up for them, when noone else will. (good ol' Hazzard!)

Right, you can all start RPing now! I'll write something up later, but for now you all feel free. Start as if we're on board the space station above the planet. The space station is called Salvation.

ooc - Awesome charcter Ghosty


The hooded figure looks up at the astropath and nods " i need this transmission sent immediately , priority code Astartes A7R92-Haxion Classified eyes only inner council" . He hands over the parchment and waits as the message is sent. "priority code accepted, message recieved. will there be anything else astartes Haxion". the astropath hands the parchment back as the robed figure turns and walks away " no, thanks again for sending that i'll see you next week."

OOC: Yeah, Ghosty's character is from an epic 80+ page RP lol. He allegedly 'died'. Also, not to be picky Kharnflakes, but could you be a bit more careful with your grammar? For example;

Kharnflakes wrote:ooc - Awesome character Ghosty


The hooded figure looked up at the Astropath and nodded, saying "I need this transmission sent immediately - priority code Astartes A7R92-Haxion. Classified eyes only, inner council". He handed over the parchment with the message written on it and waited as the message was sent. "Priority code accepted, message recieved. Will there be anything else, Astartes Haxion?" asked the frail figure. The astropath handed the parchment back, and the towering, robed figure turned and walked away. He replied over his shoulder, "no, I thank you for your service, Astropath. I will be here again next week."

I've just realised, you write in the present tense. RPing tends to be in the past tense oO. Ah well, whatever suits you. The above is just how I would've written it, and I'm just using your post as an example - please stay literate people.

Macro Heron walked along the station halls, the ancient stonework on its interior was only bested by its defenses. Yes, he thought, this is a fine installation to be sure. He came out, onto the busy esplanade. There were many shops here, and people were bustling and shuffling about their daily business. It was unlike most Imperial stations, in that the community was very relaxed and informal here - a fact overlooked by the administratum and the Ecclesiarchy probably because of the planets' large output of weapons, food, minerals and many other wonderous things. The populace here indulged a lot, but the Inquisitor did not have time for such things. His sole purpose was to rid the Imperium of Heretics, Daemons and Xenos. He heard a scream and looked towards the direction that it came from - a women had just seen Brother Haxion walking past, and had been startled. There was now quite a crowd gathering - most of them probably hadn't seen a space marine before, if even heard of the Adeptas Astartes.

Carter sat in one of the many chapels on this station, deep in prayer to the immortal Emperor. He was trying to figure out his ultimate purpose, why he had been spared years of war, and the ultimate destruction of his regiment. So many good men dead, so many that he served and lived with. Was it to die serving the Inquisitor? That would not be a bad fate he decided. The Inquisition were the fingers of the Emperor Himself, keeping the evils of both mankind and the galaxy at bay. Here he was serving a much higher purpose then back in the guard. If Inquisitor Heron wanted Catrer, then by the emperor, he would have him. There was no more need to have doubt. Not now, Not ever.

Carter Stood up after a final prayer, faith burning deep in his eyes as he went to go find his lord...

The marine's instincts kicked in at the sound of the woman's scream. In what seemed like a blink of an eye both his combat blade and bolt pistols are in his hand, as he turned towards the woman ready to leap into action . quickly realizing that he was the cause of her scream and holstered his weapons . he gave the woman a quick nod " carry on then" as he headed towards the inquisitor

ooc - im used to m.u.d's where its all done in present tense

OOC: .M.U.D.'s? Also, I've got a player for the last character that noone picked.
Nice intro, Bane.

ooc :multi user dungeons/domains think mmorpg's but text only no video there rather fun and please forgive me if my grammar is a lil off never one of my strong suits

OOC: It's not that great a problem, and I can appreciate everyone has different abilities with writing. I'm just picky about it - trust me, it sucks to be picky lol. Anyway, it's just things like capitals and commas really.. Anyway, I'll just go prod the other player.

OOC: huh? sorry, i just didn't realise that i have my GCSE's coming up, sorry guys, but if someone feeling like rping my guy for a bit be my guest, im bogged down with revision.

Ah, bad luck mate. [ooc btw]

I'll just say he died in a car crash... in sphess.... and will be alive again later.... somehow.... magic mushrooms...

But I was talking about Gorsky.da.lost [on his way here]

Awww why shaso!-.- you had to go post that up didnt you? I need to do revision too, and ive been ignoring it till you went and said that. Curse you!

I may be pulling a shaso aswell now. But ill occasionally post sporadic text here and there.

ICeddler Aurrus watched fervently as the hulking figure of the space marine passed, breath caught in his mouth. As the giant disappeared from view, amongst the crowded market, the drug peddler turned back to his client, a man called Grathas.

“So, how much ‘Slaught did ya want mate?” he inquired to a sunken eyed man, who convulsed violently. The more the trader looked at the man, the more it worried him. He couldn’t quite place the reason he felt uneasy about the man, but the desperation in his eyes, the need for another high, it scared him.

“I g-got me 7 creds. How much can I get for that?” The quivering Grathas stuttered, spittle forming on the edges of his drawn back lips.

Aurrus’s unease was quashed by the business man within him, and instinct kicked in.
“What? Do you think im some sort of charity? Shove off, or ill report you to the ‘feds.” He sneered at the misshapen freak, and pushed him away. The feel of the druggie’s clammy flesh sickened him to the touch, and he recoiled away. The addict growled and started to utter a series of undecipherable, words. Instantly, Aurrus felt his strength waning, and blobs began to flicker in his vision. He staggered, and tried to swipe at imaginary phantoms. The Psyker Giggled malovently, and concentrated. He felt the drug dealer’s consciousness dissolve away to nothingness. The man was now his to control.

The dead eyed Aurrus handed over his entire stock of ‘slaught to Grathas, and then proceeded to begin to eat his own hand. This pleased the addict, and he laughed mischievously at his work. As he turned to leave, a sudden feeling of unease washed over him. A horrible feeling of dread formed in the pit of his stomach, and he realised he had relieved himself in his trousers. A shadow clad figure dropped from the shadows above, and landed, with cat like grace in front of him. The assassin walked slowly towards the addict, and he found himself paralysed and with fear. As the culexus stopped before him,
And in a last attempt of defiance, Grathas threw his psychic might at the assassin. What he found however, was a void. This man had no soul, and his mind was like a brick wall. The druggy tried to scream, but no words would come. He just stood there, unable to move, as the Culexus began to skin him alive…

Jervold
Gender: Male
Planet of origin: Volcarth III
Skin colour: lightly tanned
Age: 48
Height: 5ft 11in
Personality: Bat-s£$% crazy, but otherwise quite a nice gentleman
Appearance: black hair, unshaven with a few days worth of stubble, fairly skinny, tattered uniform, strange trinkets and trophies from his various battles on it.
Weapons and equipment: Plasma Gun, Combat Blade, Flak Armour Frag and Krak grenades.
Skills: Other than a passable knowledge of battlefield triage, the only other factors that make Jervold useful are his skill with the plasma gun and his complete disregard for danger due to his lamentable mental condition.
Brief History: Jervold went insane after a long and otherwise average career in the guard due to the amount of stress the wars put on him. Ever since, he has displayed a strange disassociation from reality as well as mild specific psychopathy towards Eldar and Tau.
Other: Has a sock puppet with two mismatched button "eyes" (Lord Percival Jarren) who he consults from time to time.

Sorry about the lateness of this, Dark, I totally meant to get it done sooner.

Zafron had been in the service of the Inguistion since he could remember, which brought him great joy when he thought about it. He had been on countless escapades with his current inquisitor, who was his second that he had served with. He had quite the honor of serving with an Adaptes Atartes which was always something that brought him great joy. Zafron was currently in his camber which was his favorite pastime. Seclusion, isolation and most importantly quiet, which was the most essential part of his meditation. He just awaited his orders would do the emperors will so long as he could.

Nice! Good to have you, Katavus.
@ Gorsky: Nah it's cool. You were quicker than Ghosty at any rate :p.
@ Ghosty: O.O

Good to be here Void

(let there be roleplaying!)

Jervold sat, hunched over a dog-eared copy of the Munitorum guide and several ration bars, and pondered. He knew it was around here somewhere, it had to be. He had put it down for a second, just a second. It was around here somewhere. He peeped under the desk.
"You won't find it there, lad."
Jervold started, banging his head on the desk, and emerged with a curse or two. Lord Percival was waiting for him, scrutinising him coolly from next to a mug of caffeine.
"Damn it, milord, don't sneak up on me!"
"Hardly my fault, my boy, is it? You were too engrossed in your search to notice my arrival."
"Maybe so, milord, but unless you are planning to assist in the search, I suggest you start looking at the Munitorum guide and familiarising yourself with the use of a laspistol. Gonna get rough soon, you've got to be ready."
Lord Percival seemed to frown, his button eyes glancing down at the guide.
"hummf, not sure I'll be taking part. That chap you answer to, he doesn't seem to like me. He'll hit the roof if you try to tell him that cockroaches have attacked you in your sleep again."
Jervold stopped sifting through a pile of clothes, and looked up at Lord Percival in shock.
"you can't NOT take part! That's treason to... well... me! Besides, I don't know how to reload Bessie alone!"
The Lord sighed.
"Oh, all right then, dear chap. For your sake. Incidentally, have you checked the... refuse that litters your table yet?"
Jervold froze, then with a shriek of glee dived at the table, scattering the various pieces of equipment and food infesting it. He lifted his prize in triumph; a small silver lighter, engraved with the symbols of the Aquila and the regimental banner of his old company. Yes, he knew he'd find it in the end. Now he was ready to remove the enemy: Cockroaches had infested his apartment. He grinned.
"They might survive being stood on, but I doubt they will survive las-rounds."
Lord Percival looked alarmed.
"You can't be serious, my lad. Please tell me you aren't serious."
Jervold's grin didn't reassure him one bit.

Dude, there is no direct or obvious enemy, the planet is completely oblivious, and just something you should know; the planetary governor of Volcarth III is an Imperial General, but I 'spose it makes sense that someone would be left in charge while he goes running around the galaxy dying.

Seriously, though, no troops have been mobilised. Like 10 Grey Knight Terminators did the cleansing of 5000 odd IG aboard that ship. Other than that, it's only Heron and co. doing any digging around. If there was an open enemy, they could just fight them - wouldn't need an Inquisitor particularly much for that now would you?

Should have checked that, Dark. Sorry!

On the other hand, we can always put it down to Jervold's complete paranoia mixed with a (clearly heretical) cockroach infestation.

You, Gorskar, are a tacticalcreed.

Works fine with me, although............. meep. Tbh, just leave your post alone, it'll make mine look stupid :p

Ah well, maybe there is some sort of Tau invasion or something on a different planet in the system and they're coming to this planet soon. THAT would = nice plot twist, make it more interesting with the tau doing what they always do: get in dah way.

Darkvoidof40k wrote:@ Ghosty: O.O

When you said that, did you mean my post was, err...to visceral, or whut?

Oh, no, it was brilliant. Very grimdark, and quite fitting for a psychotic ass-ass-in. <=== yeppers.

Marco's senses tingled, and he had felt the same unease only once. Surely it couldn't be.. the Inquisitor shook all doubt from his mind; if it was, he could potentially be in a lot of danger. He let out a passive psychic burst, essentially a giant beacon saying "psyker here". If there was one of them here, he would rather make it easy for him to be found so he could confront it, than be shadowed, followed, watched. At its mercy. It was unlikely that one would be here for him, but unlikely that one would be here without his knowledge, and there was little reason for the Officio Assassinorum to send one here.

Effilion paused in his grisly work, and cocked his head to one side, as if listening. Grathas was still alive. Every inch of his skin had been removed and thrown against the wall, but despite the pain, the blood loss, and the terror, the addict still breathed. Effilion looked back down on the pysker and without a thought, snapped the druggie’s neck like a twig. He left the body where it lay. Someone seemed to be advertising themselves to him.

wading through the gathering crowd hexion approached the inquisitor noticing the uneasy look on his face. he drops his hood "Heron, you look troubled anything i can help with?" he stands there scanning the crowd while he waits for the inquisitors response