Alrighty, guess it's turn 2 now...
Ghazkull, you're in, and I'm now closing registration. Anyone else who wishes to join shall be put on a waiting list and I'll let them in when someone dies or leaves.
Turn 1Imperial Guard:You hear a booming voice echo through the ship,
"Warp jump sequence initiated, all hands to their posts! Warping in one minute..."
You notice a static tingle begin to float through the air.
Olaf Ironboot (Wolfchild):Action: I use my accute senses to find whatever it is, then deal with appropriately, appropriately most likely involves at least a friendly brawl, possibly probably something a bit more fierce
Roll: 5
Result: Silence...
Listen...
Do you hear that?
The smell... it is strange to you.
What is this? You look, and see that something is definitely there, but it is blurred, hidden...
You take out your bolter and axe and step down from your wolf...
Suddenly your abdomen shrieks in pain and you feel yourself pulled forward by the naval. You reactively swing with the axe, it makes contact and you feel something hard crack underneath it. When your senses catch up to you, you see a horrid, elongated face, tentacles drooping from it and eyes glowing a bright yellow.
Adrien (Nimitz)Action: Really? REALLY? Ugh. I need to get my equipment repaired, but there's no way that'll happen in here. I'm not going to last very long out there with such crappy equipment. I try to strike up conversation with my fellow guardsmen Locke, David and Dan in a (quite possibly vain) attempt to cheer up.
Roll: 4
Result: In an attempt to cheer yourself up, you strike up conversation with your other squad mates,
"So, where you guys from?"
The guardsman next to you with the KICKASS MUSTACHE states simply, "Armageddon"
Another across from you, whose pants seem to bulge slightly in the front, says, "Rassios"
The one next to him, who later introduces himself as Frendon, says with a hint of pride, "Terra"
This draws several glances from nearby guardsmen, and you say, "Ahhh, we got a rich kid here! How long have you been in service?"
"Just finished training a month ago, I've been in reserve since."
This earns him several sneers. "Fresh meat! You're lucky you're with me then, kid, I got quite a few campaigns under my belt, and that's something to boast about here."
You proceed to have a nicely distracting, if short, conversation before the intercom interrupts you.
"Ten seconds to warp jump!"
"Ahhh, I always hated this part..."
"Seven!"
"Six!"
"Five!"
You notice one of the other men suddenly jerk awake from an attempted nap.
"Four!"
"Three!"
"Two!"
You inhale, prepping yourself for what's about to come.
"One!"
You close your eyes.
Suddenly, the universe shifts. You the whole of reality simply get up and walk away, leaving you stranded and struggling in the vast sea of Chaos. You manage to maintain a somewhat calm mindset, though you can't help but flinch mentally at the horrid visions of daemons and horrors untold you see despite your closed eyelids.
Dragnar (Dragnar):Action: Take a nap.
Roll: 3
Result: You curl your head uncomfortably into your chest and attempt to go to sleep. However, you are soon oh-so-rudely interrupted by the booming intercom,
"-ive!
Four!
Three!
Two!
One!"
Suddenly, you feel as if your entire world has suddenly turned an entirely new direction which you didn't even know existed. It's not very pleasurable.
RAM (RAM):Action: Become aware of reality and review the surroundings.
Roll: 3
Result: "!snikneJ yballul gnicnad srewolf-sup fo sdleif tnaig ni yaJ ybboB elttil htiw yalp emoc elgruN rehtaF"
The other two plague marines look at each other.
"Hmmm... well, at least he seems to be able to swing a sword somewhat coherently... and he can walk. I'd say that's good enough for now"
Sluggaz (Paranatural):Action: Ow. Try to figure out where I am and wait on the dok
Roll: 4
Result: You awake to a throbbing headache and the smelly, unwashed face and breath of a particularly ugly goblin, who smiles with gaudy, tied-down teeth upon seeing you wake.
"Ahhh, yous awake! Dat good... dat good..."
You attempt to voice your opinion, in very colorful and physical language, of just how uncomfortable you are right now. Unfortunately, all you can manage is a few unintelligible grunts and a drawn-out gurgle.
"Hmmm... well, ya took a beatin' on yer head dere, all right! A real nice beatin', ya ran into one 'o dem hummie shootas? Tsk tsk, hope ya at least took da git down wit ya!"
You again attempt to voice your opinion, this time in much more physical terms, but again you fail in doing so.
"Hmmm... well, yer movey bitz don' seem ta be workin' quite right... neetha do yer talky bitz. Dunno 'ow ta patch dem up... da Big Dok may be able ta patch dat up, but 'e'll cost ya quite a bit 'o teef! Speakin' 'a teef..."
You feel him reach into your mouth, which you promptly close. Hard.
"Ahhhh! Well, yer mouffy bits certainly work well enuff!"
"I'll pay fer 'im."
Both you and the Dok dart your gaze to the source of the sentence. It was Snivel, the Ork which accompanied you on your recent venture into hummie territory.
"'ow much ya want?"
You plop your head back down onto the cold metal table you're lying upon. Any respectable Ork should be using that Dok's teeth right now for his payment! After a few moments, the goblin says,
"Mmmm... Well, I can try messin' wit 'is brainy bitz if ya want, but I dunno if dat'll 'elp any... 'sides dat, only odda ting I can do is patch dat 'ole, which'll cost ya... ten teef. Leave 'em in dat bucket dere, da scale's next ta it."
You look down at Snivel and can't believe your eyes when you see him actually taking out his tooth pouch and moving toward the scale. You attempt to make a mental note, a process which is unusually hard in your current state, when suddenly you notice him take teeth out of another pouch hanging on the other end of the scale. His eyes begin to shift around toward the Dok, who you realize has his back turned, and when you meet his eye he grins at you, and you grin back. He may be a coward, but at least he's a smart one.
After about a minute or two of rummaging through seemingly random bits of metal and scrap, the Dok turns about with a slightly curved metal plate, several screws, and a manual screwdriver. He looks over the tooth bucket, sees nothing amiss, then turns toward you. He climbs upon your chest, brings up the screwdriver, grins threateningly, then says,
"Dis is goin' ta hurt. A LOT."
Roland Durvish (Rolan7):Action: Seeing as we're still in transit, I do an inspection of my squad. Weapons, uniforms, love for The Emperor, you know the drill.
Roll: 4
Result: You stand upon your feet in defiance of the recent warning of the imminent Warp Jump, drawing a few admiring glances from some of the newer recruits who have already experienced a Warp Jump before. You step casually through the rows of your men, glancing over their equipment, occasionally stopping to hesitate your gaze or demand the Uplifting Primer from one who didn't take it out instinctively. As you approach the end of the row, however, the countdown begins.
"Warp Jump in ten seconds!"
You debate whether it would be better to sit or stand.
"Nine!"
Either way it probably wouldn't matter.
"Eight!"
Guess it's a bit too late to make it back to your seat. You straighten your back and assume the pose of one of a higher authority.
"Seven!"
"Six!"
"Five!"
You hear someone snort awake. You make a mental note to whip him for improper conduct later.
"Four!"
"Three!"
"Two!"
You brace yourself. Here comes the queasiness...
"One!"
You immediately regret choosing to stand as you are sent freefalling downward into a seemingly infinite abyss of sharp-toothed maws and soft, billowy ukuleles.
Locke Williamson (Sneevil):Action: tinker a bit with my laspistol
Roll: 3
Result: You unholster your laspistol and fidget with it restlessly. You eventually manage to almost blast a nice little hole the windshield, if you didn't fumble with it and shoot the hull instead (which was blackened, but otherwise unharmed). You scramble ungracefully with it as you attempt to put it back into your holster.
"Ten seconds to warp jump!"
After a moment of thinking...
"Nine!"
You decide it better to leave the pistol out on your lap.
"Eight!"
"Seven!"
"Six!"
"Five!"
"Four!"
"Three!"
"Two!"
"One!"
Suddenly, everything is upside down, back-side left, server-side right, and butter-side up.
David Greene (Xotes):Action: I pray to the Emperor that I may serve him properly in the battle to come
Roll: 5
Result: You idly converse with nearby guardsmen, listening to some kid from Terra talk about how much of a hell-hole the world really is.
After awhile, the countdown begins, and you are suddenly struck by what seems to be divine inspiration.
"Ten seconds to warp jump!"
"Oh Emperor almighty,"
"Seven!"
"He whom rules just from the Golden Throne..."
"Four!"
"I give you my praise..."
"Three!"
"That we may receive your protection..."
"Two!"
"Guide us safely, oh Almighty!"
"One!"
You feel a golden, burning light engulf you and shield you, you feel comfort in its brightness and see before you a face so divine that you can not help but sleep and rest in the overwhelming calm which consumes you.
Dan Bohey (CJ1145)Action: Wait for battle. Shoot anything that is Chaotic.
Roll: 1
Result: Another guardsman nearby attempts to strike up conversation with those around him, asking for the other's homeworlds. You reply with "Armageddon", remembering the hell you were taken off of and thrust into the new hell of war. You wonder briefly at the true power of the God-Emperor, but dismiss the thought almost immediately. The God-Emperor protects, he is the only reason you are alive right now in spite of all the horrid things you're forced to witness daily!
Then where is he now?The emperor transcends physical boundaries! He does not need to be at your side to protect you!
Oh? And what about all those men who've died, perfectly good men who were likely even more faithful then you!NO! This is the daemons talking! IN THE EMPEROR I AM STRONG! BEGONE, VILE SPAWN OF CHAOS!!
You hear a laugh echo through your mind,
We'll see just how strong your Emperor really is."Six!"
What? What was that countdown for?
"Five!"
Are we warping already?
"Four!"
And what did that daemon mean?
"Three!"
You feel a sudden ominous foreshadowing of what is about to come...
"Two!"
"One!"
Your last view of the material world is that of the wires and tubes criss-crossing chaotically throughout the Valkyrie. As every seemingly permanent law of the universe is suddenly shattered before you, your conscious will suddenly begins to melt away. You feel the Chaos around you seem to take sentience and envelop you as you are sent tumbling through the abyssal paradox of change.
Hondrazul Ba`l Moloc (Lordinquisitor):Action: I try to bring order into the chaotic mess here. The Chaos Marines shall be ordered into squads; Khorne follower shall stick together, nurgle ones shall stick together etc. It would also help to get a rough estimation of our ressources and manpower.
Roll: 6
Result: The will of Chaos overcomes you, it calls for order to be made! Chaos needs order to accomplish its goal, and thus order it shall have, and YOU shall be the vessel to form this order! You feel the will of the Ruinous Powers flow through you and into the material realm, the sheer immensity of it maddening and breaking you beyond any coherency, but low! The legions of chaos stand together, united in a singular cause from a singular mind! They move together in synchronous, beautiful order as one mind blurs into the next, bound together by the will of the True Gods! Oh, there is order, order more perfect then any other!
But there is cost... though your mind now wills the movement of a thousand, the strain of it all is far too much for your mortal mind to bear, and it is only through the will of the divine that you are not reduced to collapse. You are now their vessel, the avatar of their will in this universe. Failing them is not an option.
(I'm thinking of adding a special mechanic with this, where I will give you a task from the Chaos Gods which, for every turn it's not completed, I roll a 100-sided die to determine if they decided you've failed it. At the first turn of the task's assignment, the dice is not rolled, giving you a free turn to complete it. Every turn afterward, however, increases the minimum number you must achieve to succeed the roll by either 5 or 10, depending on what I decide. This task is also subject to be randomly changed every turn, and the minimum can be reduced by up to half by performing actions which otherwise please the gods or are directly achieving the task assigned.
Also, other Chaos characters still maintain their own free will, they just receive orders from you.)
Magus (MagusBlack):Intro: As your Thunderhawk lands, it is almost immediately surrounded by a large horde of people, bashing against the railings around the landing pad and shouting maniacally. As you step out and onto the planet, you can hear their cries of fear, most of which are akin to;
"HELP US!" "GET US OFF THIS BLASTED ROCK!" "I WANT MY MONEY BACK!"
Apparently whatever is happening here is no longer a secret.
Action: Start sweeping the city for Heretics and Xenos.
Roll: 4
Result: Your squad quickly organizes and begins pushing its way through the crowd, who back away fearfully upon your approach. They grow silent upon seeing the power and magnificence of your squad in full view, mere feet in front of them. Surely these mighty behemoths will protect them from the homicidal xenos which assail them?
As you near the edge of the crowd, a single child stands in the way, staring up through muddy, torn clothes with sunken red eyes. As you walk up to her, she says in a frail voice, "Will you protect us? Will you kill the bad things?"
You can not help but smile, then bend down and pat her head gently with a fist which dwarfs her entire body.
"No man, woman, nor child of the Emperor shall fall so long as I still stand."
With that, the child is hastily taken up by a thin, matted woman who looks up at you with awe before darting back into the crowd.
As your squad moves through the city you find that, although there are many signs of panic, the city beyond the landing pads remains untouched by war, famine, corruption, nor xenos. You do, however, learn from a news television in the central plaza that alien attacks have become increasingly common and bold across the planet, seeming to target infrastructure and governing authorities.
Osric Rott (Ghazkull):Intro: Pus and rot, flies and maggots, boils and bloat...
You swore you'd never allow this to happen... but look at you now.
writhing in vomit and pus, your first maggots crawling under your skin, your muscles becoming so bloated and stiff you can barely move...
What have you done? What have you gotten yourself into?
Action: Try to find out where i am...
Roll: 2
Result: You attempt to rub some liquid from your eyes and find that you are encased within a thin, membranous cocoon, which you accidentally break. When you do so, you notice a coldness begin to crawl downward, which you realize is a feeling-less liquid leaving from the space around you. It isn't long until you are able to open your eyes and see through patchy brown transparency a large number of darker blobs. You reach your hands out to break through the membrane and see your arms and hands have been horridly corrupted and rotted, one a cluster of three uneven tentacles at the end of a pimply, puss-fulled and maggot-ridden log, the other a bird-like talon with rusted, moldy scales and chipped, pus-dripping claws.
You recoil in horror- what justice is this, what have you done to deserve such a fate? Through your reverie you hear a voice, thick and gurgly, filled with pus, phlegm and spit, yet still with a distinct air of concern,
"Where's your Emperor now?"
You notice a shadow lumber slowly before you. After a few moments a face, rotted and bloated, ugly and horrid beyond measure breaks into view before you.
"Don't be frightened, young one. I'm sure this is a difficult time for you, adjusting to all this. But you'll grow to accept it all in time. Come, the All-Father has something special planned for you."
Turn 3
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Topic: Roll to WAAAAGH! II, another 40K RTD Turn 3, NURGLE LOVES YOU THIS MUCH! (Read 16919 times)