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Joryn winced as the back-blast from the meltagun washed over his pale face, sweeping the stream of superheated pyrum-petrol gas down the flank of the rebel Chimera and causing its armor plating to bubble and hiss. As the wounded vehicle slewed towards him, he was forced to leap into a nearby drainage ditch. Momentarily shielded from the survivors' wrath, he fumbled with his comm-bead.

+Joryn Cepheus, 14th Imperial Army speaking. The rebels have overrun Observation Post 4281.C and are advancing rapidly. Any surviving Imperial forces, converge on my position!+

Joryn dropped the unwieldy melta and pulled a frag grenade from his belt, priming it and tossing it over the lip of the ditch. At the count of three, he pulled the short, heavy brush-cutter from its scabbard and hauled himself upwards as the hand-bomb detonated. Only one member of the vehicle's crew survived the blast, struggling to regain his feet. Closing the distance in four strides, Joryn swung the cutter into the disoriented traitor's temple. The danger having passed for the time being, he walked over to retrieve his fallen meltagun. Surely it was only a matter of time before other Imperial forces in the area responded to his transmission.


{Freeform fiction-format RP. I shall be acting loosely as DM. OOC goes in brackets, vox/psychic transmissions go in ++. Script format is fine too if that's how you're comfortable writing. A while back, a group of us ran a similar thread for about nine pages and were rewarded with an amazing story; the thread was titled "Inquisitorial Roleplay" if you'd like to take a look. Now, won't you join me in this adventure? I've left many details to be filled as the story progresses and more characters join. For now, if you're interested, meet me at the crash site!}

Gauss heard the vox transmission over his internal comm-bead. The Techpriest was currently travelling in a Valkyrie headed to the Observation Post to carry out some repairs. The only other passengers around were a couple of Guardsmen ordered to be his guards and a few servitors.

+Maxwell Gauss, servant of the all mighty Omnissiah responding. I have been deployed to repair some of the systems for that Observation Post, but it looks like we'll have to clear it out first. I will be their shortly.+

The transmission broke the almost contemplative silence within the killers head.
Not responding, the killer raised from his kneeling posture into a low crouch. Cocking his head to the side inquisitvely, the killer tried to pinpoint the transmission's point of origin. Overhead a Valkyrie swooped, threatning to distract him from his calculations. It didn't.
30 degrees...20 degrees...10 degrees...there. That direction. Underneath the mask, the killer smiled sadistically-so, the army boys needed help did they? Last time he'd fought with army boys in open war like this it had almost been his swansong. Still, if this was what his masters wanted...
Raising himself to his full height, the killer unholstered his pistol and moved silently towards the faint sounds of battle.

{Imperial army? So I'm assuming this happens before or during the Heresy?}

He had been lying in the same position for over an hour and now his legs were beginning to hurt. He figured being face down in the mud was better than being shot to pieces by the rebels that had already streamed past him over the past hour. He had been so close to a few of them he could have easily taken them out quite easily with his dagger. He dared not do that though, he had been overcome with indecision ever since his area had been overrun by rebels, lying under his draped camo cloak and hood, praying to the Emperor he wouldn't be found.

Suddenly his mic bead sprang to life after a long silence. He received a broken message from some poor soul behind him somewhere. It sounded like the guy was trying to coordinate the scattered imperial forces. With determination, the man in hiding got into a crouching position in the shell hole he lay in. Ever so slowly, he poked his hooded head out hoping that it wouldn't get shot off. Seeing nobody around and hearing nothing but the distant gunfire, the man sprang up and began to jog in the direction of the transmission, wiping the mud off his long patterned, marksman autogun as he did so. His hand came up to his ear as he spoke into his mic.


+This is Master Sergeant Syd Harlow, 85th Vendoland speaking. Copy that, Cephus, I'm inbound to you're position, over.+

{Sharp eye! Pre-Heresy it is. I'll leave the rest of the background to fill in as we go. I'll move the story along in a minute, but I'd like to give a few old friends a chance to chime in. Right now we're looking at a good mix of characters and some great roleplayers!}

{Hmmmm, that puts this story in new perspective, still, it is a very interesting notion. Bravo. }

Joryn pored over his tactical display, considering possible routes to Post 4281.C. The post was about ten clicks to the east, and no data was available regarding the disposition of the rebels' forces in the area. The main entrances to the post faces westward, flanked by guard towers. To the north, however, was a dock for supply vehicles. While lightly guarded, the approach would force him and any potential allies to navigate a steep, rocky slope and the dock's blast doors would prove difficult to penetrate. The solution, he supposed, would depend on what manner of aid he might receive.

This, the killer thought as he withdrew his powered blade from the gurgling rebel, was far too easy. Dropping into cover, and silently hoping that no-one thought to vox the heavy weapon emplacement (it overlooked the beleagered outpost from where the transmission had come from, so the killer reasoned that if they'd gone through the trouble of setting it up someone must care) he felt a surge of the familiar battle lust that consumed so many of his kin. He surpressed it-it was not time yet-and in an attempt to distract himself he allowed himself a moments philosophical reflection.
Why? What was it all for? What could their false and...well, wrong society offer these rebels that the benevolent Emperor could not? The killer shrugged. He would not ask, because he did not care. All that mattered was their destruction, and if that meant helping the army boys then so be it.
The killer sighed, and moved closer towards the target.

{Might it be preferable to keep this pre-Heresy? A human planet unwilling to join the Imperium might provide us with a more interesting backstory.}

{I thought it was pre heresy....BTW are we talkin great crusade or are we talkin pre great crusade?}

Harlow jogged off the ridge he had climbed. He had gone up there to see the land around him, having no way of coordinating where he was. He had seen explosions and gun flashes in the distance, it seemed the imperial cause wasn't completely doomed.

Harlow was getting close to the transmission's origination point. As he climbed over a hill he kneeled to see the area below him, he drew up his autorifle's high powered scope to his eye and looked down in the distance. Off to the left was a dead rebel Chimera, it looked like an imperial soldier was taking cover behind it. He scanned his rifle to the right, six armed rebels were making their way towards the imperial's position. Harlow's hand came up to his ear bead.

+Cephus, if that's you down there by the Chimera, you've got six bogeys headed your way...+

Harlow goes prone and sets up his rifle, he slows his breathing just as he had done a thousand times before. He takes aim at the heavy weapon carrier, a flamer. Harlow grinned as he pulled the trigger and a second later, the flamer tank on the rebel's back exploded violently, spraying two others that were too close behind him.

The other three began to run away, taking potshots at where they thought the shot had come from. Harlow put another round into one of the fleeing rebels who toppled over dead, the remaining two fled as fast as they could run.

Harlow reloaded and waved at the imperial taking cover below him.

OT: I'm very interested in this pre-Heresy slant on things, but can I ask bossman (Owain) if people should be posting Rank, regiment ect. At the moment I'm not sure if Joryn is anyone in authority or just another Guardsman/Armyman?


Shield Centurion Borek bellowed in his Karukian baritone at the few armsmen still straggling to form up.

"How in the Seven Circles did you whelps pass muster? Your clan mothers would be ashamed!"

Kicking the last of the slower ones into line the Shield Bearers turned to attention. Borek's freshly cut hair marked him was noticable, no longer did the long ash windswept hair flick in front of him like the battlefields of old. He loved it, the short cut marked him and his clansmen as having undertaken a new beginning. No longer just clansmen of Karuka, they were so much more. They were soldiers of the mighty Imperial Army.

"Men of Karuka!" This raised some cheers, shot down by a glare from Borek, discipline was also a new experience now that they were in the Imperial Army. But Karukians would learn.

"Men of Karuka! Today is our first chance to prove ourselves as worthy of the name of soldiers of the Imperial Army."

Borek lifted up high the handheld vox-unit, as if it were some relic or divine marvel. To the average Karukian it basically was, science and magic had yet to be clearly discerned for these people, including Borek.

"I have just recieved word that the enemy, cowards they are, have somehow managed to advance." Calls of disbelief and outrage abounded.

"Our leaders ask, no, demand our action! Today is our chance to finally prove ourselves! Today is the day that our enemies shall fear the name of Karukia and tremble at the mention of Voldersun! Sheild Bearers...Advance!"

Saluting sharplym in the Karukian Helmsman manner, Borek's Shield Bearer's, 30 men all told, clashed their fists against the chest and joined their Shield Centurion in his family's battlecry. "Voldersun! Voldersun! Voldersun!"

Donning his Boyar Helmet, Borek Voldersun grinned madly.

OT: For anyone not sure I'm talking about it's a helmet of Eastern European design that essentially looks like this.

{I'm just a little confused, I'm assuming your Karukians are on the lower side of the tech tree?}

Owain wrote:{Might it be preferable to keep this pre-Heresy? A human planet unwilling to join the Imperium might provide us with a more interesting backstory.}

(OOC: okay, I'll edit my post. I assumed that since rebels were mentioned, it meant within the Imperium rather than simply holdouts. Sorry for the mixup.)

WARORK93 wrote:{I'm just a little confused, I'm assuming your Karukians are on the lower side of the tech tree?}

Yep, essentially the Karukians have been issued (tributed, to them) with standard Imperial Weaponry. During the Crusade the enlightment of mankind in regards to technology was a big thing, but it hasn't entirely kicked in for the Karukian people. To them, advance science is essentially a more evident (and expolitable, therefore less threatening) form of magic.

I'll get more into their history, attitudes cultures as the story progresses.

Little lord Fauntleroy wrote:

Owain wrote:{Might it be preferable to keep this pre-Heresy? A human planet unwilling to join the Imperium might provide us with a more interesting backstory.}

(OOC: okay, I'll edit my post. I assumed that since rebels were mentioned, it meant within the Imperium rather than simply holdouts. Sorry for the mixup.)

If we are talking about the Crusades it really could be anything. We could be tackling another Human Empire. Can't wait to find out.

Joryn straightened his uniform as he stood up; the plates of his grimy, off-white carapace armor had an irksome tendency to snag. Attempting to regain his composure, the intelligence officer ran a hand through his ashen hair. "Glad you could make it, Harlow. Captain Joryn Cepheus, 14th Army." The sniper returned the greeting with a nod. "Glad to be of assistance." Joryn was looking over the smoldering heap that had once been a rebel soldier when his comm-bead buzzed in his ear. He listened for a few seconds and looked up at Harlow. "Acknowledged," he said. "It looks like the Karukans will be here shortly; you and I will advance until resistance is met, then let the tribals catch up."


{Also, 1500 posts.}

The dirt and mud covering Harlow's own dark green, camouflaged uniform mirrored That of the Captain's. Harlow hastily saluted the mean when he told him he was a Captain, either the man's rank pins had been covered by the dirt or had been ripped off. Harlow shouldered his heavy rifle and pulled back his cloak's hood so the Captain could see his face. Harlow cleans his rifle off with his camo cloak, making sure the action and scope lenses are clear of grit.

"No problem sir, glad to see a friendly face out here in this mess." he says with an emotionless face.

As the two prepare to leave the area, Harlow remembers something he had seen in the fields and areas around the outpost.

"Sir, I'm not sure but I believe there is some sort of assassin out here. On my way here I found a lot of rebel dead, taken out precisely with a blade or a single round to the back. Too pinpoint to be from my unit, I'm afraid though it seems that the bugger's on our side considering all the rebels I found like that."

The audible cadence of boots interrupted Harlow's hypothesis. The cries "Garda! Garda!" could be heard from the Helm-sergeants every few seconds as they kept the men in line. Cresting the ridge, the Karukians saw the carnage surrounding the Captain and a lone guardsman, one of the rebel corpses still flaming. That's how it should be, thought Borek; this man, clearly a Noble, surrounded by the enemy dead. Managing to resist the instinct to customarily embrace the Captain in the Karukian manner and congratulate him on his small victory, Borek constrained himself to a friendly wave.

"Komandant Kefus!" Borey shouted enthusiastically, mangling the Captain's name. "The Karukian's have answered your call!"

{is it alright for them to join you now? BTW, the Karukians are fodder, really get rid of these guys left right and centre if you want.}

Warrender crouched down peering over the rim of the ditch that he and team had been holding position in for the last 30minutes, surveying the foliage and watching for sign's movement that they had been spotted. A message had come through ut he could not hear it as Marcus had thankfully wired in the headset to ensure no one could here it if a message came through, which apparently one had.

"What's the word, Marcus?" Warrender said without even looking over his shoulder. Marcus continued to adjust the comm's unit from his crouched position, one hand to his ear holding the vox caster, the other adjusting the dials. "Joryn Cepheus of the 14th, 9 klicks South from here, requesting backup" Marcus tilted his head up from the comm's unit to look at Warrender "Shall I respond?"

A long pause followed as Warrender seemingly ignoring the question, Branson, the cockiest of the team, flicked stones from his hands as they sat around in the ditch. "No, we won't give away our position, yet. Maintain radio silence and prepare to move out ... and Lukas? the next time I tell you to check your target before you shoot at something you'd better damn well do it or by Emperor help me I'll put that autogun so far up your ... " His voice trailed off and into a sigh, still not believing how his stupidity had nearly given their position away to a large band of rebels. "You nearly got us all killed!"

Within a few minutes Warrender and his 4 recruits had collected their gear and were back on level ground moving silently through the tree's with the intent of joining up with this soldier who went by the name, Joryn Cepheus.

As his team gracefully slipped between the tree's Warrender couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve being stuck babysitting these rookie's, but at least they had stopped tripping on every branch and yelling out at each stubbed toe.

((This is my first try at something like this, tried to add a little bit of mystery and hopefully some good charactor development possibilities. ))

{Good on ya! Just remember no Spess Mahreens, the Emperor's not a deity, and there's not quite so much techno-suspicion going on.}

Joryn stepped forward to meet the Karukians and threw a sharp salute. The man who had addressed him, presumably their leader, clumsily brought his hand up to the rim of his outlandish helmet. "That's Captain Cepheus to you." He waved Sergeant Harlow over. "Let's all have a look a the map, shall we?" He tugged it unceremoniously from its place on his belt.



"As you can see, we must follow the road west from our current position. Should we fail to retake Observation Post 4281.C, the enemy will be able to occupy the fortified town of Kell's Reach, preventing us from moving supplies northward. If those supply lines are cut-"

Joryn suddenly fell silent. He and Harlow exchanged a nervous glance before throwing themselves to the ground in the wrecked APC's shadow. The sound rose from a distant whistle to a deafening howl as the first shell landed amongst the Karukians. "Mortars! Get to cover!" Sergeant Harlowe shook his head in disgust as the tribals milled about in confusion. "There must be an emplacement nearby; the shells seem to be coming from somewhere directly south of here." Cepheus grunted in acknowledgement, quietly impressed by the sniper's sharp intuition. "Simple enough. Soldiers of the Imperium, advance!" He hefted his melta-gun and made for the treeline south of the road.

That, the killer thought as he picked himself after his dive away from the incoming mortar shell, had been too close. Shaking off the ringing in his ears, he focused on the small group of soldiers advancing down the roads.
The army boy had had some help, and even better now they were going now to deal with the mortars, so at least he wouldn't have to babysit them. On the other hand, they could provide help to complete his original misson, even if that meant just put more bodies between him and the enemy.
Looking down at the sword and pistol in his hands, the killer gave himself another moment of introspection. He knew that most of his brothers didn't like traditional weapons, preferring to use their...'talents' to acoomplish missions, but the killer thought that it was just as important to fight like his enemies to know how best to destroy them. And, truth be told, it let him indulge his more psychopathic tendancies, which was something else his kin on the whole lacked.
Behind the heavy mask, the killer gave a humourless grin and moved out through the trees.

(OOC: due to real life issues, I'm probably not going to be able to devote as much time to this as I'd like. I'm sorry.)

Quick as a whip Harlow threw his hood back on and raced to cover, as soon as he could he raced in the direction that Cephus was trying to rally the Karukians in, pushing any soldier too slow to react.

"Get up! Move it like you mean it! The Imperium needs you men today!" Harlow looked back as he ran, at least a dozen Karukians had been killed or maimed in the opening fire.

'We cant keep taking losses like this' he thought.

Running to catch up with the Captain, Harlow saw that their target was in the woods, he smiled, just like back home on Vendolan, a lot of the men from his regiment had come from the big cities and hives sprawling over the main continent, but the men of his unit, the sixth company recon specialists, had come from the woodlands of Vendolan's smaller continent.

"Sir, I think it would be prudent if you took these troops and any others you can find on your way there into the assault on the treeline! there's bound to be enemy troops there defending the emplacement. If you engage them I'll be able to slip around their flank and take the mortar out."

Harlow looked towards the woods again, his keen vision just enough to make out the silhouette that went into the treeline. It might well have been an enemy soldier but since when did they travel alone?

Warrender and his team were making good time as they ran silently through the dense wood, lasguns in hand. They had been running for the last hour and were now roughly 1 klick away from Joryn's original position when they heard the sound of motar fire in distance ahead of them. Unphaised, Warrender and his team continued. In the distance to his left(the east) he could see the outline of a road forming leading north to south which would eventually cross their paths.

As they bounded up a sharp incline he suddenly stopped, and thankfully so did the rest of his team as they spotted Lukas with his arm upright and his fist clenched, a signal that something was wrong. As they quietly dug to ground and awaited for Lukas to elaborate, Branson reholstered his autogun and took a ready position with his heavy stubber and braced it in readiness, looking to his right and watching as Jerrico slowly crawled his way to the top of the incline to get a better look only to have the back of his belt grabbed by Marcus and pulled him back dragging him through the dirt "Don't be a fool" he whispered to Jerrico "Lukas has point already"

"Convoy, 1 Chimera, 20 soldiers, all with rebel marking just ahead, heading towards our destination following the road South" Lukas whispered as he watched the convoy. He then brought his sniper rifle up, looking down his scope scanning the convoy and relyed information. "18 with autoguns, 1 a sergeant, the other on top of the chimera keeping some some sort of equipment or heavy weapon secure".

"What kind of device?" Warrender asked in an equal whisper. "Don't know Sir" Lukas responded, "never seen the like, definatly not standard issue, looks more like a thin cannon, but could easily be electronic equipment, hard to tell at this distance, what ever it is, it ain't friendly"

Warrender scanned around his team, Marcus the comm's operator and demolitions, Lukas the sniper, Branson heavy weapons and Jerrico bog standard infantry. Seeing them all huddled down ready for anything he almost forgot that these were rookie's, he allowed himself a quick smile as he saw the potential these rookie's might provide. "We can take em!!" Branson said in a forced whisper. Warrender almost facepalmed as he heard the words, cursing himself for letting himself think these recruits could ever become anything other than fodder.

Warrender pondered for a moment before speaking, refusing to warrent Branson with an answer "We can get there before they reach the crash site, if Joryn and any other teams are there we can co-ordinate an ambush, I'm still not prepared to break radio silence and risk our positions being compromised by giving a warning"

"But what if they aren't there, Sir?!" chimed Jerrico.

"Then we'll think of something, thats what you were trained for wasn't it?" Warrender asked retorically as he glanced around his team of misfits. "Come on, they won't see us from here and even if they do we'll be long gone before they can send in anyone after us" And with that the team moved on, continuing there silent running through the tree's, hoping that Joryn and any other teams that had answered the call would still be there.

((Am I to assume that the DM will be keeping tabs on player locations? Would it be practical to post an up dated map every so often so posters can see where they currently are and who and what they are near, based upon the RP of the other posters? Just a thought, as said have never done this before ))

{I've got the map saved in GIMP and can keep it up to date. If anyone would like to send me a unit badge or personal icon, I'll drop it in and use it to mark your character/squad's position as we go.}

the lights when green and Gaz and his kasakrin squad dropped
the speed of the wind forced his eyes shut,
as they his the ground he heard a crunch behind him,
he span round to see macs body bend in an odd way probably landed badly
he started screaming, gaz shot him in the head.
"remember this is a covert opp, no compromise.
every one here?"
seven replies came back there were now 9 of them left where was joe?
he look up towards the valkirie and saw joes feet sticking out of his grav chute
"not again, he needs to loose some weight"
suddenly a rocket shot across the sky and the valkkirie span out of control and crashed
"down to eight men...
lets move ."
they advanced towards the rear of the enemies hoping to take out the cawardice generals.....

Vulkan_He'stan wrote:the lights when green and Gaz and his kasakrin squad dropped
the speed of the wind forced his eyes shut [etc.]

{Interesting, but please try to write more clearly and put this in paragraph form; in these roleplays we're trying to generate a good collective story. Lack of proper capitalization/punctuation can break immersion for the other players, especially when the rest of the players have put so much work into writing a clean narrative. Also, some suggestions:

-As this is a pre-heresy roleplay, Kasrkin don't exist yet, nor were gunship-mobile forces of that type.
-Are they sufficiently worried about operational security to summarily execute one of ten squadmembers when they're only a few klicks from a friendly town?
-Where did that missile come from?

You're very welcome to edit your post and give it another go, but please be mindful of the plot, the setting, and the level of narrative polish we're shooting for.}

{Here's a slightly updated map!}

Master Sergeant Harlow's curiosity nearly cost him his life. Turning back to face the sounds of battle, he grunted in pain as a stray bolt of whatever it was the enemy was shooting at them impacted his arm. Looking up, he saw the Mortar shell dropping like a comet from the sky towards his position. He wanted to run, but he could not. This was it-the end. Strangely, his mind flashed back to memories of his mother, and he wondered idly if he would have done anything differently had he had another chance...
He would never decide. Mere moments before the shell impacted the ground, a black shape careened into his side at full speed, knocking him off hsi feet wnd catapulting him into the ground. His head impacted the turf hard, and for a moment everything went black, but before hazy images danced in the void-and the Master Sergeant looked into the grinning face of death himself. Harlow screamed.

Elgarion, Prophitage of Clan Culexus, was used to people screaming in terror. It was just part of his unique 'gift', but that never made it any less tiring. Pointing towards theSergeant's bewildered troopers, the assassin nodded, and Harlow heard a sinister voice crackle over the Vox.
+Do your job, trooper, and let me do mine.+
Turning, Elgarion unholstered his pistol and fired three return shots at the assailants, downing one of them. In truth, getting that kill had been an unexpected bonus; it was more to supress the enemy, and give him room to breath. Sprinting up to the warrior he assumed was the captain, he lept upon an enemy soldier trying to flnak him, driving the knife deep into his throat. Turning, he noddded to the bewildered-looking Captain Cepheus.
+Good evening.+, the malice laden voice whispered over Joryn's personal Vox. +Seems like you need a hand+.


(OOC: There's a pretty good chance that I've missed some key plot element here, on account of having a stinging headache; if so, then I apologise in adavnce.)

Genewhip Rudiger kicked a cowering trooper with his polished jackboot, the target of his wrath squealing as it connected with his ribs. He was sobbing hysterically, and little rivers of the salty solution were carved through the soot covering his pale face. Rudiger kicked him again, shouting; "You are a spineless worm! You will fight for the Emperor, or you die for him! If you do not pick up your lasgun and charge into the fray, I will kill you!" The man whimpered as he got to his feet, fumbling with his lasgun as he did so. Lifting his head over the high trench, he gave a strangled cry as a high-velocity round showered brain matter and bone fragments over the inside of the trench, his headless corpse tumbling back inside with a wet 'thud'. The rest of the soldier looked at the Genewhip in mute terror, each pale and shaken. Raising his ornate power sword, Genewhip Rudiger gave the order. "Over the top, boys!"

Mordoskul wrote:Colonel Commissar Rudiger kicked a cowering trooper with his polished jackboot... [etc]

{I like your style, but the Commissariat was founded as part of a series of reforms in response to the events of the Horus Heresy, which as of this RP doesn't start for a few more centuries.}

{three things

a. Would it be possible for the GM to label the symbols so we know who's who?

b. I know we're all trying to have fun here but I suggest (if everyone agrees) that we try to keep controlling other's characters down to a minimum.

c. Perhaps the GM should label this thread as "Pre heresy" so people would stop getting confused?}