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Post by Admin on May 8, 2013 2:44:49 GMT -5
Ok, someone put up an opening post, I am lazy.
Oh, and make characters first, I'll open up a quantus corruption thread in character creation.
One thing we definitely need here is some form of planetary government agent, maybe a governor, dutch or dutchess, king or queen, who knows. Have fun with this one!
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Infernatos
Nameless scum
Our lives for humanity
Posts: 23
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Post by Infernatos on May 13, 2013 10:16:20 GMT -5
( OOC: i hope nobody minds me posting in this thread.. If i've gotten anything wrong send me a message.)
Uzgrot Snikfang had been sent to kill any target Da Kommitte requested.
He had gotten on board The Ork vessel heading for Quantus, hoping to find his target on planet. Although his method of transport meant he had no need for stealth, Uzgrot found that he had a bit of a problem : he needed to find a way of separating from the ork forces without being shot down or grabbed by the runt herder who controlled his brethren.
Over the course of the journey The Stealthy Grot managed to stay out of trouble , finding a great spot to hide in when the rest of the vessels inhabitants disembarked to loot the world. He would wait at least 10 imperial minutes before leaving his spot, hoping he wouldn't have to deal with too many Orks.
When they crashed into the planet it seemed that things were already in Uzgrot's favour, many orks had died due to their foolishness at landing. Uzgrot quickly crept away into his hiding spot, listening to the sounds of the orks leaving the vessel and some getting killed.
He had counted in his head: 10 minutes, time to leave.
As he left the half wrecked vessel he came here on Uzgrot took in his surroundings, not a bad place for a grot to sneak in. Lots of plants to hide around and inside, the orks had crashed into a jungle, at least by grot standards.
" It's probably best i get to moving.. else Da orks is gonna see me."
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gazzz477
Acolyte
We make war, so that we may live in peace
Posts: 77
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Post by gazzz477 on May 16, 2013 16:51:07 GMT -5
Dark crimson blood flowed from the open wounds across the cultist's hands. He would cry in pain, if it wasn't for the thick wire used to sew his mouth shut. His dark blood splattered across the stone plinth on which he stood, his wrists were gushing blood as he fell to his knees. As more blood fell onto the plinth, a jagged eight pointed star began to glow from the very rock itself.
Lightyears away, Captain Attercoppe sat on the command throne of the Enduring Death, complementing what to do next. They were little more than pirates now, attacking the odd rouge trader vessel, harbouring fugitives in exchange for information, attacking convoys in rapid lightning strikes...but they never had any lasting effect, mainly due to the ship's inability to remain in the same time period for an extended amount of time, or in realspace for that matter. As his armoured fingers tapped against his throne's arm rest, coated in a respectful amount of pelts of both wild animals and xenos creatures like the Orks and Eldar. At the head of his throne was the decapitated head of a large Ork Warlord, he was a worthy opponent, he put up quite the fight. Despite his persistence to remain at least slightly loyal to their former religion, Attercoppe could not help but indulge in the pleasures of Chaos. He witnessed planets be engulfed by the warp which now was his home. Looking over to the servitors infused into the very hull of the ship, faces twisted in agony, working at their former positions, he wondered if that was ever to be their fate. He looked at the helmet he had created soon after joining the forces of the warp. It was created from the helmets of Chaos Lords whom he had killed to gain control of the vessel, the helmet was mainly cut into three sections; a spiked top section was from a Khornate Lord who he killed with his own warp sword, one of the two cheek pieces was of a Nurgle lord who was admittedly the hardest to kill due to his blessings of the warp, the second cheek piece was of a Tzeench Lord however Attercoppe could not remember if he had in fact killed that one. He sat there admiring his helmet, when his second in command of the vessel walked in, a Dark Eldar Archon by the name of Zar'Tharok. Under normal circumstances they would be killing one other due to the uneasy relationship between the fallen of the warp and the warriors of Commorragh, however since the ship was practically just a pirate raiding ship they needed not to worry about such things. Besides, he was a useful ally.
“It seems that you are being summoned on some planet called Qauntus, or something like that. So I suggest you vacate my seat.” commented the warrior in a smooth voice. His bone white armour plating and void black under armour made him seem rather unearthly, but the flowing green fluid rushing around him in tiny tubes was more unsettling. His face was well structured and rather bold, his left ear had been torn in half according, to him anyway, by some form of half man, half wolf. His left eye was crossed by three red lines painted in blood, a similar marking covered two female hellions what were in his raiding party. Attercoppe did not wish to know it's significance.
“Very well Eldar. It seems I must spill more blood on our path to absolution.” Uttered the chaos lord as he fitted his helmet.
“Which is only gained in death.” this was a form of, formal (which hardly seems a fitting word), farewell between the two. As the ceramite clad warrior of death lifted himself from the throne and marched down the stairs to the command deck, he planted a hand onto the Archon's shoulder and whispered through his helmet's filter unit.
“Do take care of my ship...and watch for the sorcerer, I suspect that he will lead us astray eventually.”
The cultist's bloodless body lay with five others as another stood onto the plinth, and cut into his wrist with their lord's sacred ceremonial blade. More blood fell onto the plinth, and the icon grew brighter.
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Post by Admin on May 18, 2013 0:23:28 GMT -5
Orion Talbuth gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, and gritted his teeth. He held his position fast, despite the overwhelming temptation to charge forward and smite the enemies of the Imperium. Alongside him, hundreds of guardsmen huddled behind sandbag barriers, gripping their lasguns firmly with their sights trained ahead at the amassing hordes. Sergeants shouted orders and Minisorum priests howled litanies of hatred while they thumbed through crumbling tomes. Orion could smell the fear,the hatred, and most of all, the faith of the guardsmen. This was where he felt the most at home, on the battlefield, with the real heroes of the Imperium.
A large, bestial roar erupted from the horizon, and the enemy broke cover. They were greenskins, foul aliens bent on dragging the galaxy into endless war. There were hundreds of them, thousands maybe. One could never truly tell how many of these savages would erupt from the ground next. Orion cared not to think about it. He normally would not even be in a battle like this, but intel was that a rather powerful warlord was advancing with this particular horde. If he could ensure that the warboss was dead, that would set back the ork Waagh, if not for a moment.
<Orion, do you need me there?> A voice popped into Orion's head. Tabitha's.
"No, Tabitha. I can handle this. Besides, no one must know you're here."
"What was that, sir?" The Officer next to him queried.
"Nothing, Colonel. Are your men prepared for this?" Inquisitor Talbuth glanced at the officer, ashing his Lho-stick casually.
"Yes, Lord. My men have fought the greenskins before, they will not back down from this fight." The colonel was resolute.
"Good."
"M'lord?"
"Yes, Colonel?"
"Have you ever faced an Ork in combat?"
"... No I have not, are you questioning my abilities?" Orion glared at the man, sort of. Orion's dead pan visage rarely betrayed emotion.
"No Lord, but if I can give you some advice... aim high, they are very tough."
Basilisks stationed approximately five hundred meters behind them opened fire, blasting into the ork horde with indirect fire. Swathes of orks were lifted from the ground and thrashed around in waves of shrapnel-riddled blasts. Still the Orks rushed onwards towards Imperial lines, hooting and shouting with glee as they drew near. Soon, the first volleys of lasfire began. Dozens of greenskins perished and were trampled by their comrades, but the horde did not slow. Another volley blasted into the horde, along with auto-cannon and heavy bolter fire. The enemy was closing in.
One hundred Meters
...
Fifty meters
...
Twenty-five meters
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!
The beasts roared their warcry and smashed into the imperial defenses. The guardsmen either switched their lasguns to automatic and opened up, or met the orks with bayonets fixed. It was an inspiring defense, but the guardsmen could not readily stand up against the naturally tougher opponent. Guardsmen everywhere were falling under the brutal strikes from the orks. Orion watched in awe from his position as the first line was slaughtered.
The Second line of guardsmen opened fire, disregarding that there were still other guardsmen alive in the combat. They were lost anyway. The Orks suffered for a moment as they juggled finishing off their melee and surviving the oncoming fire. Once they were clear, the beasts bolted for the next line. The second line inflicted massive casualties, but were soon locked in melee with the Orks.
Orion turned and grabbed the reins of the warhorse standing besides him. The Colonel gasped in shock, "Lord, you're not obviously thinking about-" Orion raised a hand to silence him. Those men were dying, and a show of strength could attract the warlord. The horse was originally the Colonel's, but the man was obviously reluctant to lead his rough rider platoon into the raging melee. So He would instead.
Orion spurred the horse forward, using his spare hand to holster his sword in favor for the explosive-tipped hunting lance that belonged to the colonel. The platoon of horsemen behind Orion mounted quickly, and followed the Inquisitor as he rushed towards the Ork horde. The Guardsmen of the second line were fighting for their lives, buying each step with their lives. Orion roared a litany of righteous fury as his horse leapt over the rear ranks of the guardsmen and directly into the enemy. His lance found purchase, running right through one ork and into the one behind it. The explosive tip detonated, blasting the ork apart with a wash of gore. Orion immediately let go of the lance, and drew his blade. The Burning blade sliced clean through the upper half of an ork head and bit deep into another's shoulder. Around him, dozens of rough riders joined the fray. Some died on the rusted ends of choppas, but others took the orks by surprise, and pushed them back about twenty meters.
The Orks recovered quickly from their shock, and rushed the rough riders, attacking their horses and dragging the riders down to their deaths. Orion's horse went limp when a choppa blasted half of its skull of, and Orion barely leapt off without being caught by the brutes. He Slashed his blade around like an animal, but without the added advantage of being on a horse, the orks seemed a lot bigger than before and killing blows were becoming nearly impossible to achieve with one blow. But he was attracting attention, the orks that were attacking him were getting bigger, and their skin was becoming steadily darker. These were nobs, higher ranking orks. THe warboss would be attacking soon.
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gazzz477
Acolyte
We make war, so that we may live in peace
Posts: 77
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Post by gazzz477 on May 18, 2013 15:11:54 GMT -5
As the final drop of blood left the thirteenth cultist landed on the plinth, the burning icon of chaos exploded into life. Daemonic energies flowed from the stone as they began to form a tear in reality. A warp portal.
Attercoppe looked to his command squad, much had changed them over the years of combat since their betrayal of the Emperor. For one, Kralob, who was once a great librarian for the chapter, had delved too deeply into the warp, causing a horrendous blade-like horn to burst from his very skull. He is now a psychic blank, immune to all forms of psychic attack. The brothers, Artek and Allenk remained loyal only to their captain, refusing to address him as his new title of Lord of Chaos. Bruticus had wilfully plunged into the gifts from Khorne, with every kill fuelling his bloodrage and his lightning claws now being a permanent fixture to his very body. Kazan remained the command squad's psyker but Attercoppe began to worry that if they ever do get the chance to redeem themselves, would he have to kill Bruticus as well as Kazan...only time would tell. The final member of the command squad, Attercoppe's blood brother Atten, was no longer with them, he had suffered badly during a previous raid and was only kept alive through integration to a Hell-Brute sarcophagus, but at the cost of his very insanity. He was no longer Atten, he was a different creature all together. Attercoppe could not trust his former brother to join them in the new battle, for he knew of the how unpredictable his sanity was, and chose to leave him on the cruiser.
The squad stood waiting for the warp to open, which it soon did. Thankful that they could re-enter the Enduring Death at a set time period rather than a random year as many transitions in and out of the warp via portals end up, the squad marched into the portal.
“Look! They have heeded our prayers!” cried a bloodied cultist and he tore the knife from the dead hands of the sacrifice he was to replace. The leader of this tiny summoning group cried to the heavens in warp tongue, thanking the four gods for their aid.
“We are humbled by your presence mashtorss” hissed the priest as he bowed before the squad.
“I know you are, but have you heard the phrase; sacrificial lamb? Because it does seem fitting.” Answered Attercoppe, crouching as to be eye level with the priest, before nodding to Allenk.
The marine unslung his flamer and let is loose upon the masses of cultists, wordlessly the others joined in the massacre. Attercoppe personally broke the spine of the priest in a simple flick of his wrist. “No-one summons us, but since we are here, we may as well see how this transpires.”
“My lord!” cried Kazan, nearly collapsing to his knees.
“What is it now, Kazan?” cut Attercoppe emotionless as he usually is when conversing to his squad.
“There is another psychic presence...but I don't think it to be human nor Ork.”
“So it is either Eldar, Astartes or some other form of xenos?” Answered Artek, cocking his head slightly.
“You fool! It is stronger than any I have encountered before! Something terribly powerful in the warp is on this planet.”
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Infernatos
Nameless scum
Our lives for humanity
Posts: 23
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Post by Infernatos on Jun 7, 2013 12:59:17 GMT -5
Uzgrot began to move forward, sure that every strong ork would now be in front of him.
After a while he heard the sounds of battle, and, more importantly, the sounds of dying orks.
Uzgrot made for higher ground where he could see the battle taking place, it seemed that the Guard on this planet were already putting up what some could call a defense.
One human in particular caught his eye, a man on a horse impaled some orks on a lance which exploded. The same man eventually lost his horse and was currently gaining attention from the Nobs. "So much for sneekin " Were the thoughts in Uzgrot's mind as he grabbed Boris and rushed towards the battle.
He came in firing, causing one ork to lose a knee with a point blank shot to the leg, it then lost its life when Uzgrot brought the knife down through its eye. As Uzgrot dodged and ran through the battle towards the man he let Boris do all the talking, its mouth spewing metal instead of words. At least 10 orks went down in the time it took him to reach the circle of nobs surrounding the man , now came the hard part. Finding a way out of their wrath.
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Post by Admin on Jun 8, 2013 1:18:26 GMT -5
The roar of battle was deafening. The amalgamation of human and alien battle cries and screams drowned out even the vox channels. Gallons of blood coagulated into knee-deep pools and down into the trenches in streams. Guardsmen were torn in half, crushed with basketball sized fists or were simply cut to pieces with choppas, aliens were gutted with bayonets, blasted with blinding bursts of lasfire, or fell victim to the entranced Inquisitor's white-hot powerblade. Hundreds of men and aliens joined the frenzy in droves, each side striving to force more bodies into the bloody melee in hopes of overpowering the other side. Three additional rough rider platoons had charged in as well, slaughtering their way deep into the ork horde before being taken from their horses and butchered. The guard was holding its ground at best, their spirits soaring at the sight of the Inquisitor who, even through all the blood and grime splashed all over him, appeared as a saint sent by the Emperor himself to guide them to victory.
Orion had no idea what was going on beyond the orks surrounding him. All he knew was, parry, riposte, kill. Parry, riposte, kill. Parry, riposte, kill. His skills with a two-handed powersword was virtually unmatched in his schola progenium monastery. He had even surpassed his instructor by the time he was fifteen. He was never an ingenius investigator, or brilliant scribe, but he was a swordsman through and through. His flurry of parry and attacks were efficient beyond belief. Every strike either crippled or straight-out killed an opponent. Every parry left his opponent open for attack. He had never even seen an ork before today, but he fought them as if he were a life-long veteran. One Ork attempted to swing a crude nhammer at Orion, but he simply side stepped and delivered three quick jabs with his blade, one to the knee to drop the opponent, one in the gut to double it over, and the third right between its eyes to end its miserable life. He added the kick that sent the already dead ork sprawling back into its allies for flare.
A human scream beside him caught his attention and nearly broke his focus. The last remaining guard beside him was hoisted up nearly ten feet in the air, gripped in the maw of a massive power claw. The ork weapon snapped shut, and human blood drenched orion. Sweat and iron filled the Inquisitor's nostrils and he could taste the spilled vitae. What towered over him was one of the biggest monstrosities he had ever seen in his life. It was the Warboss. The Ork standing at nearly thirteen feet tall and clad in over-the-top mega armor made the notably short Orion look even smaller and more significant than a child to a space marine. Bodies and skulls of many mixed species decorated its armor, and orkish runes and simple low gothic phrases covered its armor, declaring its many victories and trophies. It bared its teeth as it looked down at the puny human. Spittle blasted all over the blood-drenched Orion when it roared. Orion almost visibly trembled from the high-decibel blast of sound.
"FOIGHT ME, 'UMIE!!! I NEEDZ ME A NEW SKULL FER MY SPIKEY STICK!!!"
Oh by the Emperor.
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gazzz477
Acolyte
We make war, so that we may live in peace
Posts: 77
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Post by gazzz477 on Jun 9, 2013 13:57:22 GMT -5
As they neared a large mountain pass, Attercoppe turned to face his squad.
"Kazan, follow me. Everyone else, stay put." snarled the captain, before spinning to face the opposite direction, cape flowing with each minute movement. And began marching down the dark red clay scar in the mountain, which formed the pass.
With each step, the sorcerer seemed to be in greater pain has he roared in the dark tongue of the warp, cursing the planet and the new psyker. It was a powerful one, that was without a doubt.
“I must find this creature!” was the rough translation of his cries.
“Silence you idiot, before we are discovered.” bluntly cut Attercoppe as they edged towards a deep gorge.
Blood began to seep through his teeth, he enjoyed the bitterness of the iron, and the sweetness of the haemoglobin ...but he knew well that this was caused by the warp for he was at his destination, and a cruel smile crept across his face. “We are at 'Bloodright'...this entire planet is now ours for the taking.”
“NO!” roared the sorcerer, blood spraying from his mouth as he roared. “You fool! If this psyker is so powerful I can sense it from this distance..then perhaps it will be able to prevent 'Bloodright', did you even consider that?” Attercoppe scowled deeply at his second in command. Although he hated to admit it, the bloody fool was right.
“Very well, lead us to him.”
“Her.” growled Kazan.
“What?”
“It is female...but it's certainly not human.”
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Infernatos
Nameless scum
Our lives for humanity
Posts: 23
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Post by Infernatos on Jun 13, 2013 10:00:01 GMT -5
Uzgrot threw a stickbomb into a crowd of orks, causing more unnecessary amputations than the waagh's pain-boy.. okay maybe not that many amputations but still enough to make a sizable hole in some orks. The Grot managed to dodge and weave his way through the large mess of ork legs and blast a few of them too, confusing and generally distracting the Nobs.
(Nob viewpoint)- The Nob pointed at the orks falling randomly in the crowd and hit his ally on the shoulder " OI YOU SEE THAT?"
"WHAT?"
" DEM BOYS FALLIN DOWN BUT THEY AIN'T EVEN FIGHTIN?"
"WHAT THE ZOG'Z GOIN ON?"
" SUPPOSE WE'Z GUNNA HAV TO FIND OUT AIN'T WE?"
(OOC: I don't know how i did for a conversation here but if anyone wants to give me pointers they'd be much appreciated)
(Uzgrot's POV)- "Bollocks!" thought Uzgrot as the two Nobs started lumbering towards his location. " Dem Buggers is gunna Find me.. Betta Think quick"
Uzgrot looked for anything useful on the nearest Corpses, finding a few stickbombs and a Bolt pistol.
The Bolt Pistol was perfect for this situation, he could use it competently because he was larger than other grots and it had the right amount of firepower to make a Nob's face go splat. Uzgrot used a belt he found on the Ork Boy to strap the grenades together.
Now for some fun.
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Pyromaniac
Acolyte
Nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
Posts: 51
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Post by Pyromaniac on Jun 14, 2013 18:50:27 GMT -5
They were crying and shouting as his men threw the three refugees to their knees. His own men weren't helping matters, shouting curses and instructions in such a massive jumble that even he, perfectly calm as he was, could discern what was being said. With a sigh, he decided to put an end to that.
His bolt pistol fired loudly in the air.
"Imperialists, colonialists, fucks!" He shouted, drawing everyone's attention to him and silencing all.
Servatius stepped forward to the three refugees, two men, one woman. The men were old, malnourished and emaciated. Hardly ideal... but her might be able to find a place for them... maybe.
The girl on the other hand... well... women always sold no matter how ugly they might be. All he had to do was find someone desperate enough.
Servatius crouched down in front of her, caressing her cheek with his hand.
"What's your name?"
It took her a long moment to choke it out between sobs, but eventually it came.
"A-Alayne."
"Okay, Alayne," He said, removing his hand. "We're going to play a little game me and you... or a bonding experience, or whatever you want to call it, I don't care. It's very simple. I want you to decide... which of these two men deserves to die more. You do that, and I'll let you go."
She started crying more after that, begging him not to. He pulled her to her feet and put an arm around her shoulder.
"Just decide Alayne... the man on the left? Or the man on the right?" He put the bolt pistol in her hand and closed her fingers around it. She was still begging but he shushed her and held her hand out, aiming between the two men.
"I love you!" One shouted.
"No you don't! You call her a 'the cunt' when she's not around!" The other shouted.
"You liar!" The first shouted.
The gun fired, the first man fell back dead.
"YOU FUCKING WHORE!"
The gun fired again, the second man fell.
"Wow!" Servatius shouted. "I give you one you take two! You're greedy you..."
She was crying harder, trying to tell him that he had pulled the trigger and not her, he silenced her with an icy look.
"Alayne," He said again. "One more thing... I lied about letting you go."
Two of his men grabbed hold of her and dragged her away kicking and screaming back to their camp. Servatius watched with a smile, waving to her as she left. He and his men followed. They'd collected enough slaves for the day.
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Post by Admin on Aug 10, 2013 11:25:01 GMT -5
Orion desperately dived to the side and rolled away as a power claw bigger than his own body slammed into the ground. Had he been a fraction slower he would have been turned into a puddle of gore and innards. The warboss growled with frustration and swung/dragged his claw across the ground after the agile human. Orion was able to leap out of the way, but the edge of the claw clipped his left pauldron. Orion was knocked off his feet and spun like a thrown child's toy. He landed messily in a puddle of blood and bodies and momentarily submerged out of sight.
When he re-emerged he did so with bolt pistol in hand, a angry hot visage of anger painted onto his face and highlighted with the blood of the fallen. He fired round after round at the massive ork, roaring litanies of hatred with every shot. The ork's armor laughed at each round, splintering each explosive bolt with a shower of sparks. One round struck ork flesh, but the hide was tough enough to shrug it off with a minial spray of blood.
The Ork lowered its head and charged like a massive grox. Anything unlucky enough to get in his way, be it ork or human, was trampled underfoot or gored upon one of the ork's many spiked buts. Orion had to think quick, analyze weak spots,and make his move. He spotted something. He holstered his bolt pistol and charged back at the ork, holding his blade in a high grip with both hands. He activated the second rune on the grip and could feel the heat of the burning blade on his blood-stained skin. The ork's eyes lit up with amusement, eiither excited that this "'umie'" had the balls to charge him, or surprised at the sheer audacity of someone actually charging him.
They met on a pile of bodies where the rough riders had made their final stand. A servo-skull that had been monitoring the battle caught a pic of the instant before they clashed, a pict that would remain famous both during and after the war. A lone human warrior atop a mountain of bodies, roaring his defiance in the face of impossible odds, stained in the blood of his enemies, and wielding a blade that sizzled and cooked the air around it.
What followed surprised the warboss immensely. Rather than meet the warboss head on, the Inquisitor ducked under its swinging power claw and slashed low with his blade. Hot fluid sprayed out from the warboss' leg and for a moment it stumbled forward. It was even more surprised to find there was no pain from the wound. The warboss laughed as it swung around, "'UO CAN'T 'URT ME, 'UMIE!!!" It went to step forward and its leg buckled. The warboss roared in anger when it noticed that the Inquisitor had cut the line that ran hydraulic fluid to power its limbs. Orion kept his guard up, knowing full well that the warboss could still get to him, and obliterate him if he wasn't careful.
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