Blackburn was exhausted. Currently the leaders of the Haven (general quarters) had him running for supplies and survivors. He didn't care who they were, who they pledged allegiance to, he helped anyone who needed it. He'd been running on little to no sleep. He finally completed his last run, he'd helped an eldar female back to camp. She was as ungrateful and had a huge chip on her shoulder, at least to begin with. A couple of firefights later and close calls later and her tune changed. Her checked her into the gate, and headed here, the small area he called his home. It wasn't much but he'd gotten it as part of his agreement with the haven. Solo quarters with tools and material to fix and tinker with his gear. He exited his Exosuit and fell face first into his bed. When he woke he dressed and went to one of the bars in the haven. He didn't have a lot of money, but he didn't need it. He had an understanding with one of the barkeepers. [spoiler]open[/spoiler]

Destiny roleplayers puke

Русские привыкли к тому же старые вещи в любом случае . Вот почему они голосуют за dust

https://imgur.com/a/XNUY9 [b][i]Teamwork makes the dream work...until it doesn't. New York.[/i][/b] "Son of a bitch." [i] Jack breathes, slamming a hand down onto the concrete of the abandoned skyscraper he was holed up in. He was on the thirtieth floor, overlooking Central Park.. And the giant Hellhound currently using it as a playground and murder carnival.[/i] "Oh don't tell me you missed again Jacky boy! You're getting slop- oh shit!" [i] The happy voice of King came through his comms, cut off promptly as it sounded like the Hound tried to make him his new chew toy.[/i] "Shut up K. You try and hit an eyeball from over half a mile while it's moving." [i] Jack retorted, dialing in his scope and readjusting. It normally wouldn't be that hard to hit such a big target, but the giant mutt was covered in an iron like hide and the only thing visible were its eyes.[/i] "That's why I'm down here Jacky. I got the easy job. Blowing stuff up." [i] King's statement was punctuated as a cluster of trees went up in flames and smoke. More plastic explosives triggered in an attempt to rid them of their Cujo problem. [/i] "Would both of you idiots shut up? I'd like to get through this without one of us losing an arm. Again." [i] Queen's regal and strict voice came through their comms, as Jack loaded another round.[/i] "Copy." [i] He replied, sighting down into the park.[/i] "King, I need you to turn him to the North side. I can't shoot his ass end and kill him." [i] A grunt of effort is heard in reply as King stumbled through a cluster of trees.[/i] "Unless you got one big ass milk bone for bait, it may be a wee bit hard Jacky boy." "Do your best King. I've got faith in Jack's shot." [i] The calm and cold voice of their squad leader Ace came through their comms. Jack grinned. A compliment from Ace was as rare as a unicorn and a four-leaf clover's baby. [/i] "You got it boss. King, north side." "One second.. Alright he's on my tail. Anytime now Jack!" [i] King yells, sprinting through the brush as the giant dog/wolf/demon creature rampaged behind him. Jack nodded, Aiming several hundred feet downwards ahead of the mutt. Once he'd lined up the shot, he breathed out and pulled the trigger. A few moments later, a howl of pain erupts and a crash resonates as the hound drops dead, crushing several trees on its way down. Several breaths of relief are heard, and a row of congratulations. King, Queen, and then Ace. [/i] "Nice shot Jacky boy." "Good job Jack." "Good going J. Let's pack up team." [i] A chorus of agreements rings throughout the team as Jack stands up, capping the scope on his sniper. Turning around, his footsteps become uneasy beneath him as he struggles to stand. [/i] "What the fu-" [i] He manages, before falling unconscious on the concrete.[/i] ~~~~~~~~~~~ [b][i]Bloodwrath[/i][/b] [i] Jack wakes up in one of the hallways of the Bloodwrath. Dark, dank, and smelled of death. Sitting up groggily and massaging his head, making sure his mask was still on and all his equipment was present. [/i] "Guns, check. Knives, check. Next, where the -blam!- am I?" (Open.)

"CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAP!" There are a few rules to keep in mind when exploring a dark and creepy local after waking up with no recollection of how you got there. 1: Stay very, very quiet. Walk slowly and carefully, and do not say a word 2: Do not, under any circumstances, turn on a light. If it gets too dark to see, stay put, let your eyes adjust, then walk even slower. 3: For the love of all that is sane and right in the world, DO NOT follow the sound of strange chanting - ESPECIALLY if it sends an unnatural shiver down your spine and hurts just to hear. If only I had actually listened to myself, I might not be running back the way I came with some abomination against reality hot on my heals. Oh well. Better keep running. I took quick peek behind me, before whipping my head back the other way. Nope, still too horrifying to comprehend, just like it was five minutes ago. Also, can I just say that running for your life does wonders for one's stamina? "SOMEBODY, ANYBODY, PLEASE HELP!" [spoiler]Closed[/spoiler]

In one of the many dark rooms of the Bloodwrath, a Black Templar stirs from his slumber, his eyes flying open behind his visor. He got up to up with a groan, his breath rugged, and the mother of all headaches raging around in his head. Shit was bad. He groans again as he feels the familiar weight of his Bolter, dangling on his right hand via a Devotion Chain. I was on a mission before I woke up... That's one thing I know at least... The man thought to himself, his blue eyes scanning his surroundings from the inside of his helmet. He jerked his right arm up, pulling his Bolter with him, and into the air. He then blindly catched the grip, and firmly grasped it. The man shakes his head, the headache making it hard for him to think coherently, his thoughts hazy, his legs heavy. "I got fücked up... Shouldn't I have a squad? Where the fück are they? No matter... Just gotta get to civilization, if that's even a thing in here... Where the fück am I even..." He says to himself with a rough voice, his words given a metallic accent by his helmet. He started walking through the darkness, the soft grinding of gears and other metal things coming from his left arm as it shifted underneath his armour, his left hand soon twirling and shifting, before folding into his arms, only for a Chainsword to slide out, it softly growling as the teeth slowly spun. He then froze up as he heard some shuffling in the darkness, his eyes shooting over to the origin of the sound; a lonesome Chaos Marine, armed with nothing but a Chainsword. He didn't bother to check what Chapter, but instead just charged at the Chaos Scum, his Chainsword roaring as he yelled, "FOR THE EMPEROR!" And raised his Chainsword, the Chaos Marine having an "oh fück me" moment as he saw the Black Templar leap at him, the Chainsword arm already descending. Then, nothing. He wasn't even able to react in time. Blood flew everywhere as the Black Templar's Chainsword sank into the Chaos Marine's head, tearing it in half within seconds. He then pulled the Chainsword out, and in one swift motion, decapitated the lifeless corpse, the head splitting in half now that it was no longer held together by the throat. "Unclean Scum." He says nothing else, and just turns on his heels, walking away from the corpse as his Chainsword goes back to growling silently. [spoiler]Open. Short post, yaya. Still have writer's block. Shut up.[/spoiler] [spoiler]-blam!- you Shad. [/spoiler]

[b]Vaaxius walks out of her room after spending a night catching up with her love, Traliks. They had decided to spend today looting areas that Chaos infested. And she couldn't wait to do it.[/b] [spoiler]Open to Shad[/spoiler]

[i][u]The Unsung hero.[/u][/i] Deep within the ship, a sphere of violet energy bubbles up, releasing within it a warrior. [i]For thousands of years, he had wandered through this dark, grim Galaxy...[/i] The shaded figure stood up on it's two large legs. [i]And those thousands of years, he spent battling whatever the galaxy could throw at him. For every fight, a memento. For every army vanquished, a souvenir. For every enemy slain, redemption. Whatever the grim galaxy could push on him, he pushed back.[/i] Slowly, he opened his four violet eyes, one of them being marked by a deep, searing scar. They scanned the darkness. [i]He lived a life, once. Somewhere else, beyond this realm, this universe, this time. He was brought here against his will. But he wouldn't let that defeat him. If something had brought him here to destroy him... they had failed. It had only hardened him. Made him stronger.[/i] The metal floor thundered as he stood up on his two heavy legs. Although milennia had passed, the man hadn't aged a day. He was stronger than ever, his muscles strong and lean. [i]Eldar. Tyranid. Orks. Necron. Tau. Imperial. Chaos. He had fought it all. Sometimes alongside them. Sometimes against them. Never had he been thanked for his sacrifices. Some knew of him, of his legend. They had a nickname for him.[/i] As he walked, he looked at his four arms. Two of them, made from Necron metal after having lost them in a battle. His arsenal varied, containing trophies taken from his enemies. From space marine armour, he had made himself new protection. From the Tau, he had taken ranged weapons. From the Imperial Guard, he had taken heavy weapons. From the sisters of battle, Inferno weaponry. From the Eldar, Mighty witchblades, and their strange eldritch magic. From chaos, psychic powers had been gained. From the Tyranids, the pincer of a Carnifex was shaped into a sword. And that, only to name a few. [i]His body carried the scars of his long life of battle. But a life that never ended for him.[/i] On his back, he wore a long, torn purple cloak, with a hood. It was once the banner of something. The only thing he had maintained from his other life. [i]His nickname was given to him by his ability to wield any weapon for any situation, regardless of the matter. He always had something for everything always an ace up his sleeve.[/i] They called him the Jack of All Trades. Traliks, the Fallen. His eyes quickly settled to the darkness. [i]"Hmm... a ship... ancient."[/i] His English was without a flaw. Many years of practice will do that. He sniffed the air around him. [i]"Hmph. Chaos. And by the size... this is definitely the bloodwrath. I don't know what Satirus wants with me, but he will only have dead lackeys to pay for it."[/i] He grabbed his weapons. In one hand, the lower left, he carried a Daemonhammer, weapon of the Inquisition. Thanks to his superior strength, he needed but one arm to wield such a weapon. In the lower right hand, his automatic heavy shotgun. How this ork weapon even functionned or held together, Traliks had no idea. But he had come to learn not to question Gork and Mork's mysterious ways. After all, it was thanks to it that he could carry all of his equipment. In his upper right hand, a mighty Singing spear, an eldar double-headed lance and battleaxe, with its two split heads on each end. And in his upper left, a Tau Ion Cyclic Raker. Devastating weapon against any foe. Wandering the depths of the ship, Traliks, standing around the height of a primarch, his hooded cloak trailing behind him, expected anything to come at him. [spoiler]openito my friends.[/spoiler]

[b]Insert Edgy Grimjob Word Here.[/b] Ling, as always was in bed. His eye was currently being poked by Machas ear, but he didn't complain nor did he want to move. He thought about earlier, about what they talked about. Perhaps there will be a future. Then Ling thought about that idiot who chased him over alcohol. Certainly something to report. He was a dumbass. He turned his head, looking at the bottle of Wine he placed on his nightstand. Aged but still good. The Inquisitor spoke to Macha. "I'm going to go outside, I'll be back." Ling got up and put on his shirt and Inquisitor Coat, the Brooch pinned on it. He walked out, not bothering to put his hair in a Ponytail. and then he saw a familiar face. It was someone only he knew, His Sister. Though a bit short, she was dressed in the most extravagant clothing. A red commisarat coat, decorated with golden shouldpads. No one but her knew how she even obtained the coat. It was bright red. She wore a skin tight red jumpsuit underneath though she wasn't of the curvy type, certainly HERETICAL. Lings Sister was in boots, rather odd. Even for her. She was nearly a exact twin of Ling, save for the feminine features and the red streak within her hair. She had a worried look upon her face, until she saw Ling. It turned into joy upon seeing her brother. "Ling..?" She said, wanting to make sure it was him. But the Inquisitor knew who it was, and replied. "It's been so long, Chloanne!" He said as he ran up to hug her. "You still haven't changed.." She said, laughing and hugging back. [spoiler]Surprise surprise. Open ya Shitlords.[/spoiler]

[i]An Intro (Can't think of a better title) | 1700 hours. [/i] ///////////////////////////////////////////////////// [i]Nothing came from the darkened halls of the Bloodwrath near the Imperium camp, until footsteps echoed off the walls, a man spoke, insert all the usual introductory, dark and grim bullshit. In truth, the man made everything in the area just a tad bit livelier. He was the one man on the Bloodwrath who didn't seem like he was obsessed with murder and edginess, despite his all black armour under a light-tan shirt, and a pair of simple jeans. He wore full armour beneath the outfit, helmet and all. At his hips, a pair of pistols. On his back, a DMR and a Gladius sword. On his helmet, nothing but a white screen over the rest of the all black suit. He strolled through the Bloodwrath and her inner workings merrily. It seemed he wasn't in the mood to put up with people's shit, considering the fact he looked at an approaching Tyranid, simply said "no," and continued on his merry way. Vasquez was here, shit was going to be fun. [/i] ((Open)) ((And since everyone's characters seem like they have an obsession with death, here's an upbeat character))

[u]Bloodwrath, General Quarters. [/u] A Black Templar stumbles into the General Quarters, giggling like a Japanese school girl. His helmet was nowhere to be seen, showing his pale and battle-worn face with sharp features, and a stark jawline, along with his, currently dilated, piercing ice blue eyes. His jaw was adorned with a short stubble, and his head with short, black hair. A Bolter dangled at his right side via a Devotion Chain, binding his weapon to his fist, in which he currently held a half empty bottle of booze. His Chainsword was on his back, in a makeshift sheath, and in his left hand, he held another bottle. Though this one was completely full. He moves the half empty bottle to his lips, and takes a deep swig, emptying the bottle. He then straight up drops the bottle as he gulps the booze down, bursting into a sudden fit of laughter afterwards. He continues to stumble for a bit, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle as a trickle of drool forms in the corner of his mouth. He slurps, and says, with slurred speech, "Now this! This is celebrating in the proper way!" He chuckles to himself in drunken joy, and stumbles over to the place where the vegetation of the Jade Dragons' camp begun, and sat down on his drunk ass. He then opened the completely full bottle, and moved it to his lips, chugging it like his life depended on it, very quickly emptying it as he gulped like someone who hadn't drank in a week. He tosses the bottle off, and giggles to himself, wobbling around. [spoiler]Open![/spoiler]

[b][i][u]Victory for Unity.[/u][/i][/b] [i][u]Noiratrom's Realm. a few hours after the fall of Slaasesh.[/u][/i] [b]Soldiers poured into the huge forest that made up Noiratrom's realm. They were tired, wounded, and weakened, but they had won. They had went right up to a Chaos God's home turf and kicked its ass. They were celebrating even now, thankful that they had survived and glad to have gotten rid of a asshole who had tormented the galaxy for thousands of years. When they walk deeper into the forest, they find clearings filled with tables and food, Daemonette servants walking around the area and keeping the place tidy for them. The Queen of Vines, Astrid, sat upon a wooden throne as she smiles down at the victorious warriors.[/b] "I have arranged this for you brave soldiers, you've earned this..." [b]Men and women were seated and served comfort foods that the Daemonettes saw in the minds of those that weren't blanks, while they asked the blanks that were there what they wanted. Soon alcohol started to be served. It ranged from hard whiskeys to fine wines to even good old fashioned beers and ales. The Daemonettes were sure to keep the plates full and the cups nearly overflowing. Now as the night continued, it was time for the heroes to mingle and talk to one another.[/b] [spoiler]Open to everyone. Have some drinks and fun, you guys have earned it.[/spoiler]

Update [b]Slaanesh is dead.[/b] [b]Everyone celebrated, couple people got drunk and did shit.[/b] [b]Speaking of celebrating, Ling and Macha officially are having children...yay half Eldar.[/b] [b]Traliks, a Fallen Kell who's powers match that of Sly Marbo has appeared upon the Bloodwrath.[/b] [b]Wehb cannot stop calling me a Heretic.[/b] [b]A black Templar verbally assaulted a Inquisitor and stole EVIDENCE. Which was booze.[/b] [b]This list shall be updated over time, just reploi if I missed anything that I cannot find.[/b]

[b]A Siren's Lullaby =============================== People have been disappearing from the camp, returning in pure bliss, almost as if something granted their wishes Those who didn't return where found eaten alive, even then they where hard to distinguish, an eye there, a tooth here, a finger over there... Reports of daemonic activity have spiked, a Daemon Lord resides on the ship, preying on the weak and stupid, and "gifting" those whom seek her out or deeply desire something[/b]

[b]Unity.[/b] Ling was thinking about too many things. He was in bed alone of course. He just recently woke up, a certain event transpired from the day before. The battle of Slaanesh's Demise. The night of that battle was merely indescribable, celebration happened all around the Quarters. But of course the Inquisitor was missing from those, perhaps he just wanted peace. At least that would be what any person would think. Ling got out of bed, changing into his clothes. Not his normal Inquisitorial Coat strangely but instead a simple black shirt with a Inquisitors Brooch pinned to his left shoulder. His pants were not remarkable as well, just mere pants of Onyx color. "Today's going to be different. Hopefully." He said to himself and he exited his Quarters. He looked to his left, where his Power Armor stood. He decided to not get in it, no point anyways. He walked around the Quarters, looking at the rather small Ferrocrete buildings besides the Vehicles Garage. He sighed, it was boring around here until one of his Grey Knights approached. "Inquisitor you will want to see this, I was doing my daily Daemon Wards and then I found..it." "What is it?" "Turns out the Imperial Guardsmen had a shitload of liquor." "What..? But How?" "I don't know. But I'm sure we will get rid of it." They conversed while walking to the barracks. They entered and the Guardsmen were all lined up, wall to wall. In the middle of the room was Liquor of various kinds, Whiskey, Scotch, Tequila you name it. The Inquisitor went over to one side of the room. "Who the hell had Alcohol!?" He yelled, and the Guardsmen pointed to five people. "You five will be re trained! But first you will sober up!" He said once more and they nodded. The Inquisitor grabbed as many bottles he could and left the building, the Grey Knight also carrying the rest with Him. [b]Meanwhile.[/b] Ciarn, the Eldar Warlock was drunk out of his mind with Arknin. "[b][u]You-You're technology is bullshit.[/u][/b]" The Tech Priest said. "Says the person with exploding bullets, I mean like what the hell. it's so messy." [spoiler]Open to all! I'll actually reply this time I promise.[/spoiler]

That's it. I'm sick of all this "Default Weapon" bullshit that's going on in the 40k system right now. Bolters deserve much better than that. Much, much better than that. I should know what I'm talking about. I myself commissioned a genuine bolter in Mars for 3 minutes of sex with the Fabricator-General (that's about $800,000) and have been practicing with it for almost 2 years now. I can even make slabs of solid plasteel disappear with my bolter. Adeptus Mechanicus smiths spend years working on a single bolter and test it up to a million times to produce the finest guns known to the Imperium. Bolters are thrice as shooty as laser weapons and thrice as accurate for that matter too. Anything a lascannon can shoot through, a bolter can shoot through better. I'm pretty sure a bolter could easily punch a hole through a Carnifex with an Extended Carapace with a simple trigger pull. Ever wonder why the C'tan never bothered conquering the Imperium? That's right, they were too scared to fight the disciplined Space Marines and their bolters of destruction. Even in the War in Heaven, C'tan soldiers targeted the Marines with the bolters first because their killing power was feared and respected. So what am I saying? Bolters are simply the best weapon that the universe has ever seen, and thus, require better stats in the 40k system. Here is the stat block I propose for Bolters: (Boltgun) 72' Range S:9 AP:1 Assault 9, Armorbane, Large Blast, Sniper, Rending, Lance, Ignores Cover, Ignores Invulnerable saves (Heavy Bolter) 96' Range S:D AP:1 Salvo 9/18, Massive Blast, Sniper, Rending, Lance, Ignores Cover, Ignores invulnerable saves, Armorbane Now that seems a lot more representative of the dakka power of Bolters in real life, don't you think? tl;dr = Bolters need to do more damage in 40k, see my new stat block

As the tides of warriors each passed through the gate, something strange happened to them. They were imbued with a strange aura, they glowed green with magical enhancements, the blessings of Noiratrom. Thanks to this shielding, the minds and souls of the warriors were protected from the negative effects of the warp. As a result, magical attacks had less effect on them, which was just what the warriors needed. First were the Orks. With a beholding warcry, the green tides of boyz unfurled from the portal, which led to the grounds in front of Slaanesh's palace, in the Dark Prince's realm. There, they took by surprise the legions of daemons there. Never had they expected an attack directly on their territory, which was poorly defended. In an instant, hundreds of thousands of Daemons appeared, all of which belonged to Slaanesh, and the battle begun. With all of their might, the orks clashed against the demons, fighting real good. They smashed with their choppas, shot 'em up with their shootas and made Godkillah real proud. But The orks were severely outnumbered. Swathes of Chaos Space Marines that were servants of Slaanesh were summoned to the realm. They had brought with them their arsenals, prepared to defend their god and bring great pain to the enemy. Then came the rest of the Armies. The Jade Dragons arrived at the same time as the Imperials did. The Jade Dragons, recieving support directly from Noiratrom's realm, were accompanied by hordes of greater Daemons. The Imperials quickly made their presence known. Earthshaker rounds flew through the air, cracking the sky and falling back down on the Slaaneshi troops. The rows of Basilisks set up their firing positions, giving extreme support to the offensive. Sentinel walkers came from the portal, their armour blessed by Noiratrom, and began battling into the frey, shooting down greater demons and lesser demons alike. Then rolled up the Leman Russ tanks, and the Baneblades. They each had their own specifications of weaponry, dishing out heavy, very heavy punishment in their own ways. The battle was intense, these warriors having the advantage of surprise and strength. Then came the Necrons. These odd necrons glew red instead of green, powered by Kor'El's mysterious liberated gauss. These warriors, adepts at destroying warp creatures, lay down a slow, unstoppable wave of death upon the Slaaneshi army. Coming from secret paths of the Webway to support their god of pleasure, the Dark Eldar descended upon the invading army, hoping to disrupt their ranks. But the Combined forces had another card up their sleeve. Coming from the same Webway, stealthy masses of Eldar forces, coming from three different Craftworlds, had come to the fight. After all, this was their chance to avenge their gods. To slay their killers. They disrupted the Dark Eldar surprise, and brought support to the combined armies of Orks, Jade Dragons, Imperials and Necrons. The battle raged fiercely, each warrior, from guardsmen to primarch, dealt significant death to the enemy. This was their finest hour, to all of them. [spoiler]basically, this is another battle post of epic proportions. Come in, wreck absolute house, be the most badass you can. I'll post the best fights in the greatest hits for you. Best of luck to you, and kick ass.[/spoiler] The distraction was in place. And the plan was going accordingly. Slaanesh, the prince of torment himself, watched with delight all the misery that was going on below. All this pain, the screams of battle, it was wondrous to him. These fools... their attack was meaningless against him. There was nothing they could truly do against him. He would let their hopes build, to be crushed even harder later, in a tasty feast of misery. But something felt odd to the prince. He felt another presence. He felt... fear. [b]meanwhile...[/b] [i][b]"Are you sure this will work?"[/b][/i] [i][u]"Yes. I have called upon other craftworlds. They will keep the Dark Eldar busy. Nobody will sneak up on us. I made sure of that."[/u][/i] [i][b]"Very well then. Let us be on with this."[/b][/i] Suddenly, behind the prince, a secret Webway opening revealed itself. This path had been weaved by the Eldar for millennia, in the hopes of one day serving against the dark god. That day had come. In a fit of surprised rage, the pleasure god himself screamed out. [u][b]"Who dares invade my realm as such?!"[/b][/u] Noiratrom stepped through the opening. There he stood, a massive being of power. His scales were shiny, and his animalistic traits were proud. He stared down the prince with his owl and wolf eyes. [i][b]"It is I. Noiratrom. You know me, by now..."[/b][/i] [b][u]"You... you rotten piece of refuse! I should have known it was you!"[/u][/b] But through Slaanesh's rage, Noiratrom knew the prince felt something else. [i][b]"You cannot hide your fear from me. You know your time is at an end... and I know I will be the one to bring it to you."[/b][/i] The prince of pleasure laughed in the face of his death. [u][b]"You think you can destroy me alone?! I have butchered millions! Conquered hundreds of worlds!"[/b][/u] [b][i]"I am not alone on this day, prince..."[/i][/b] Then, Macha walked through the gate. She was as tall as Noiratrom, her body changed in the effigy of the War god. And someone else came through the gate... the living Embodiment of the Emperor. His wrath, his strength, his will, made into one. The living saint. Agnes was clad in her battle gear, her body covered by a golden shroud. In her hand, she wielded the Emperor's holy fury, the flaming blade. And yet another being stepped through... the essence of the Nightbringer made living. The spirit of death. Clad in his blessed Y'Vahra battlesuit Battlesuit, a glowing red power flowed through each crack in his suit. Kor'El, the warrior of Freedom. Very last, but absolutely not the least... Noiratrom's pet. It stomped the ground menacingly, heavily as it walked... [quote]Long ago, Before his engagement against Tep-Pharon, Noiratrom had made a fascinating discovery... the untouched, untainted egg of a Tyranid Swarmlord. Why this perfect creature had been abandoned, Noiratrom could only guess. But until then, he would keep this egg safe, afflict it with the warp, turn it to obey his commands. He would become this lord's Hive Mind. Their spirits would be one. For the time until this day, Noiratrom had cared for his pet, his pet of death, that is. He had grown it to be a fierce warrior. Soom enough though, the Swarmlord began reproducing, creating a small hive that was loyal only to Noiratrom, and their loyalty would never falter. After he was ascended into godhood, his pet had the same treatment. It grew in power and strength, all a reflection of his beloved master. And now, today, imbued with the very powrs of his master, the Swarmlord of Noiratrom was stronger than it ever was.[/quote] Stepping through the light of the Webway portal, the Hulking beast stood. It was taller than Noiratrom himself, and larger too. Its skin was scaley, like Noiratrom's, and vegetation covered its thick, chitinous hide. It launched a powerful roar that even the warriors down below could feel. It radiated with the same power as Noiratrom. Down below, on the front lines, Soldiers on both side felt a tinge of Fear as Tyranids began pouring from Warpgates. All of them were imbued with the power of the life god. Soon enough though, the assailants calmed down as they realized the Tyranids fought with them on this day... which was odd. Very odd. The five of them stood. The spirits of Vengeance. They all fought for one thing: the good of the Universe. Except for the Tyranid, who simply fought because he loved his master. [b][i]"... I carry the might of the Galaxy as my Ally."[/i][/b]

His search for food led him to the remains of what appeared to be a battle, two sides one extremely militaristic the other was like something out of a metal band. He picked through the more normal looking group as he searched for rations. It appeared that these men used laser based weaponry, with differing charges. He found bland tasting nutritional pastes and supplements. He ate one tube and stowed a good deal more with his kit. He then picked over the caucuses of the creepy metal band. He found little he wanted, he did take some of their ammunition, gunpowder based he could manufacture ammunition to his own needs with it. These crude rounds would lack some of the punch but would not waste the precious heavy hitting bullets. A quick rest and he was back in action, his path led him to a door, four men had stood guard in the past but were dead, two were from each faction, a DMZ perhaps. At any rate he had to press onward, if he were going to find some place to holdup. This area would probably be the site of another battle. He pressed through the door, weapon ready, and scanning his path. [spoiler]open[/spoiler]

[i][u]War in the warp, Chapter I.[/u][/i] Enough power had been massed. Enough troops had been gathered. The plan had been devised. The time was now for action. Noiratrom had put on his suit of armour, and grabbed his weapons. His armour was all ceramic white, as pure as can be, and covered in strange vegetation. The god radiated with untold power... but he would put that power to the use of good. His weapons were a signature of his mark. His trusted weapon, [i]Silence,[/i] that was once a scythe, had been completely transformed, like him. The weapon was now a part of himself, and obeyed his will. It could merge into any shape, but he preferred one over all. It was a strange, sinuous staff, with blades on each sides of the tips. The blades were covered in a strange moss, who could tell what they were capable of... they glowed ominously with unimaginable strength. In his right hand was a shield, molded in the shape of his effigy. He put on the changed helm of Alpharius, looking at himself in the mirror. He felt a strange sensation in his gut... fear? Hope? Stress? He could not tell. It had been so long since he had felt anything... and now he was expecting children soon. His life had changed completely in such a short time... but he wouldn't ask for anything else. But now was the time to act. And for that, he needed an ally. Or, rather, allies. This strategy required two sides of a battle. [u]Meanwhile, back on the bloodwrath...[/u] Macha was in Ling's quarters, tending to her armour, when she was struck with an intense vision. Or rather... a conversation. [i][b]"Do not be afraid, daughter of the Gods. I come to you as a friend."[/b][/i] [i][u]"Who is this?! Reveal yourself!"[/u][/i] She spoke from within her mind. [i][b]"My name is Noiratrom. I am the new presence within the warp you have felt. And... I am the one who rescued your mother from the grips of Nurgle."[/b][/i] Macha wanted to roast this unknown presence, but at the mention of her mother, she calmed down. [i][u]"My mother? How?"[/u][/i] [i][b]"Before I was ascended, I snuck into his catacombs. From there, I rescued her from her cage. With her powers, she gave me my new form. I have taken great care of her. She is quite safe in my domain."[/b][/i] [i][u]"How do I know you speak the truth?"[/u][/i] [b][i]"Because I know you can feel her mind. I know you have been speaking mentally, only for brief moments, throughout her captivity."[/i][/b] Macha backs down from her stance. He was telling the truth. [i][u]"Why do you come to me as such?"[/u][/i] [i][b]"Because I am in need of your help. The time has come for Slaanesh, the tormentor of your race, to fall."[/b][/i] Immediately, Macha was washed over by a tide of doubt. But then, she remembered that this being was craftier than he let on. [i][u]"How can I help?"[/u][/i] [b][i]"Only you have the Psyche to oppose her. Within your body rests the essence of two gods... I can help you awaken those essences. You can help me win this fight."[/i][/b] Macha ponders greatly upon this, but ultimately, she realized she had no choice. It was her duty to destroy Slaanesh, or die trying. [i][u]"Alright. I shall join you. But... how will we go about to make this happen?"[/u][/i] [b][i]"Quite simple..."[/i][/b] Noiratrom then explained his plan to the Farseer. It would involve many things, and many different steps. [i][b]"That is why I need you to gather as many warriors as you can."[/b][/i] [i][u]"I see... I may know a few that will help."[/u][/i] And she did. The first on her list was her own beloved, Inquisitor Ling and his Grey Knights. Who better to do battle against Daemons? The other was a brave and bold marine, Bracheous Beranteus. She also invited Jaghatai into the frey. Never willing to pass up an occasion to do glorious battle, the Ultramarines were next. Fearless and with limitless courage, Macha requested the help of the Imperial Scions, of the 7th Baltic Manticores. Their unmatched skill for fortification and heavy armour would come in truly handy. Some of the ship's occupants, upon hearing there would be a battle, signed on as well, such as Jared and Graxian. All the willing warriors were asked to present themselves at the Jade Dargon grove, where they would embark on the next step of their mighty battle, one that would be remembered for all history to come. [spoiler]this is it, boyz.[/spoiler]

[b][i]Interdemensional Roofies[/i][/b] [b][u]Bloodwrath, The cold hard floor.[/u][/b] https://imgur.com/RIWLTwS [i]"WARNING, LIFE SUPPORTS SYSTEMS ADMINISTERING CPR."[/i] [b][u]Crack![/u][/b] [i]"Ah... Shit! Disengage you stupid... Agh..."[/i] [b]Lucien rolls over onto his stomach, his head pounding. He taps his helmet, trying to get his interface to stop freaking out. Looking around he sighs... Probably just another hangover... But he didn't recognize this place. He holds his head with a grunt, sitting on his knees. Suddenly, a noise at his side spooks him. It's a woman, easily dwarfed in comparison to him wearing some ridiculously skimpy outfit... Her hair pushed back and her cheeks full of delicate color. So Lucien does what sane people do and pokes her cheek with a pointy metal finger.[/b] https://imgur.com/1d8pYMo [b]Azalea wakes with a start, her eyes burning with fear... And she quickly bites down on the metal finger poking her cheek and quickly draws blood.[/b] [i]"Bah...! What the hell is wrong with you...? And why are your teeth so damn sharp?"[/i] [i]"Don't poke me!"[/i] [b]She gets to her feet in a huff, Lucien simply looking up at her, bewildered. He speaks up again, looking around.[/b] [i]"Hey... Do you think me and you... You know... While we..."[/i] [i]"No! You probably have teeth down there."[/i] [i]"Can't be sharper than yours..."[/i] [b]He says with a chuckle, getting to his feet. He adjusts the large brown and dirty scarf around his neck and checks his sides. He was still armed... From what he could tell.[/b] [i]"You remember anything...?"[/i] [i]"No. You?"[/i] [i]"Yeah. Plenty. I know all about myself, where I come from, what I do... But not how I got here."[/i] [i]"Then let's find out where here is."[/i] [b]She takes off down the street, not exactly waiting for her giant companion. Lucien huffs and follows slowly behind her, his large metal hands falling into his pockets.[/b] [spoiler]Open! Sorry for the silly intro. Never been good with a starting post, and excuse me if I get stuff wrong. I'm not very good with Warhammer stuff.[/spoiler]

[b][i]Hourglass of Eternity[/i][/b] [b][i]Previously:[/i][/b] [spoiler]Farseer Macha has discovered an hourglass artifact inside of a slaaneshi ritual chamber, she has been pulled out of her body and is having a memory... Perhaps is it her memory... Or perhaps not.[/spoiler] [b][i] You wake up in a desert, face down in the black sand - your sense of time completely gone. You painfully roll over and come up on your side, thickly armored elbow braced in the sand supporting your tremendous bulk. As you view your surroundings, you see large black dunes spread out in every direction, far out into the horizon where black sand meets an unrecognizable black sky - you've never been here before. The red sun glares down at you from directly overhead like a giant cyclops would stare at an insignificant insect as you go to stand. Your rusty armor creaks as you climb to your feet and spread your large wings, both of which are broken from intense combat that you cannot remember. You're suddenly very thirsty... But not for water. Sinister whispers call a name that is not yours, but is vaguely familiar. You can't quite put your finger on it. The sky grows very dark all of the sudden... Your eyes find the sun, and the great shadow that stretches across it. Eclipse. You realize the shadow is a giant starship... Suddenly a memory not belonging to you is triggered. You are Sarris-Sanguine... And you're dead. The Bloodwrath has come to claim your soul. A beam of light shines down from the center of the eclipse, you at it's epicenter. You feel your body rising up into the sky. [spoiler]This time period is from around chapter 5 and 6 of the original RoB when Sarris was dead and trapped in the dreamscape/warp. I'm not saying everyone aboard the Bloodwrath in PoE is dead... But I'm not saying they're alive either.[/spoiler] As you're floating up into the sky and space itself, you turn back to glimpse the planet from which you've been taken. It is no planet at all... It is the hourglass of eternity. [spoiler]Mainly for Shad, but also a hint for everybody else.[/spoiler][/i][/b]

[b]Shadow of a Doubt[/b] [i]Matthew Hallwinter's Mind[/i] Before Him stood a veil of shadows: a strange lattice of dust and echoes, yet it was something tangible, real. As real as anything in this dream-state could be. There were other objects in the background, but try as He might, they were distant, and blurry, and shifted out of focus if He stared at one, as if smeared against a faraway wall. Behind the veil stood a copy of Him, yet it was not quite complete. Its face was equally blurry, but its eyes were sharp, and keen, like a predator observing its prey, yet somehow He could tell that it was confused by the way it was standing. Testing its mind, He raises a hand, and the shadow in the veil does the same. Its eyes hungrily gaze through the veil, and He wonders what it sees in Him. He raises his other hand, and the shadow does the same, but it appears reluctant this time, only bringing its hand up after a second's notice. It kept its hands raised for a few seconds longer, before dropping one, and it reaches through the veil to paw at His chest, and despite Himself, the force of the hand causes Him to stumble backwards. He grabs the arm and knocks it aside, but the shadow's eyes are hungry now. It reaches through again, harder, and this time He reaches through the veil and punches it in the chest... Only the blow doesn't connect. The shadow is faster than Him, and it grabs His fist with ease. He throws more blows, but each are deflected with only the slightest of effort, until it decides to hit back. The first blow He manages to block, barely, but the next hit lands, as does the next, and the next, and the next, until He finds Himself lying on the floor, barely conscious. The shadow had stepped through the veil, and now stands over Him, like a grim monument. Perhaps it was only His imagination, but the shadow grinned as it reached down towards His head, and engulfed the world in darkness... [i][b]The Bloodwrath[/b][/i] ... He woke up with a start, his inhuman reactions barely saving him hitting his head on the stone floor. What strikes him first is that he wore his traditional ceramic Imperial Exoskeleton, and next, the amazing pain in his head, where the shadow had touched him. It was just a dream--he knew that, but he couldn't shake the lingering feeling of uncertainty that he had felt. Matthew Hallwinter grunted as he got to his feet, and began to look for an exit. He didn't know where he was, or how he had gotten there, but he knew that he had to escape, somehow. He had no weapons, and if his gut feeling was correct, none of his Manipular abilities. He pitied the first enemy that he found. (Open. Ignore the first part, just say that you found Hallwinter)

[b][i]Inquisitor Ling[/i][/b] He had woken up on his temporary bed, certainly a pleasantry upon this ship. He got up, and looked around for his trimming scissors. He of course found them right in his..rather small bathroom. It was basically a room with a shower, sink and mirror in it. Ling trimmed his goatee, sighing. Today as always was a question of life or death. He thought about Macha, he hasn't seen her since she entered the Webway to get Jaghatai Khan. Primarch of the White Scars. If she did come back, which Ling did not know he would be grateful. The problem is no one besides them knows about their relationship. Which was both a good and bad thing. The Inquisitor went into the shower, it was cold as fück. After 5 minutes he got out and dried himself off and got dressed. He left his Quarters not knowing what could happen. [spoiler]Open.[/spoiler]

[b]UPDATE[/b] [i]Inquisitor Ling and Far-Seer Macha are currently in a emotional relationship.[/i] [i]Speaking of her, Macha was requested by Bracheous and Roboute Guilliman to retrieve Jaghatai Khan, Primarch of the White Scars. [/i] [i]More beings have shown up upon the ship.[/i] [i]Noiratrom is being a sneaky shit and planning to kill Slaanesh.[/i] [i]Speaking of that Sex Lord he permanently ruined Hyper-Poker-Billiards-Chess-Roulette for everyone.[/i] [i]Trejo still hasn't given me my damn burritos.[/i]

[b][i][u]Arrival[/u][/i][/b] [i]A pod flew through the side of the Bloodwrath. The sound of metal on metal was unmistakable and loud as all hell. The door to it opened, and the lights flickered on. Blood was splattered on the walls as if Jason Vorhees showed up. Everyone was dead, well except one. The others were dead and splattered on the walls. The survivor, however, seemed completely unhurt, and though she was covered in blood, none of it was hers.[/i] [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

Through the darkness, dubbed 'space', a comet-like object flew, directly at the Bloodwrath. The object, revealing to be a drop pod flying at 12,000 kilometers per hour, crashed into the Bloodwrath's outer hull, the metal, flesh, and bone being torn apart by the falling star. The drop pod crashes through the ship, eventually coming to a stop in a large, dark room, blood painting the walls; dead... things decorating the ground. The pod opens up with a hiss, revealing at least ten Astartes Space Marines. Black Templars, to be exact. ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈ All but one of the Blank Templars had left the room, the remaining one laying on the bloody floor, his weight having crushed the yellow, weak bones of a skeleton, long since forgotten. He awoke with an alerted groan, quickly pushing himself off the ground, and onto his armoured feet. He threw a cautious look around the dark room, quickly spotting his Bolter and Chainsword. What had happened to get them there, and him on the other side of the room? He quickly rushed over to his gear, snatching it off the ground; his Bolter, loaded with explosive bolts, in his right hand, and his Chainsword clenched in his left. He slowly looked around the room, the red visor of his helmet illuminating him slightly. And then, he set off, slowly walking into one of the hallway, his heavy footsteps slowly disappearing into the distance. [spoiler]Open. Yes, I know, short post. I'm tired, I lack creativity, and I'm suffering from writer's block. So shut up. [/spoiler]