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 The planet, designated by the Imperium as Cypress Beta 32, has long been lost to the followers of the Emperor of Mankind. Razed by Exterminatus at the whims of a Slaaneshi corrupted Inquisitor, the planet's atmosphere was bombarded with chemicals and drugs, sending its inhabitants into seizures and fits, before the planet was raked with artillery fire. Little life was left on the planet, but over the years, the atmosphere re-established itself, and the planet has become a sort of beacon to the unholy followers of Slaanesh; here, millions upon millions died in ecstasy and pain in the Dark Prince's name. But it is not just Slaanesh that makes claim on his world. The followers of Nurgle believe the planet exemplifies their own corpulent god, as the planet has stagnated, and the marshes and oceans turned toxic from the poisons dropped into them. Tzeentch's minions would see the mutations, and wild fluxes of weather to be signs from their god that they are the true rulers of the planet, and the Khornates? They need little reason to claim it than it can be claimed by might. It is here, every ten years, a horrible game is played to glorify the dark gods of Chaos, a great hunt and a great battle. The governor of the planet, a corpulent and hedonistic follower of Slaanesh, invites all who would come to partake in the game. He offers the winners anything that should be within his grasp, and often times much more. All that is necessary is to complete the events, and to rid the world of those that are one's rivals in the game. For whatever reason, you have taken this offer to heart. Whether it be to gain glory in the eyes of your dark master, to plunder the governor of his own riches while ignoring the game, or to simply investigate the happenings for yourself, you make your way across the Vortex to this pink planet. Whether you take your own ship, or whether you book passage, your ultimate destination is a simple station orbiting the planet.. ---- Menzati Spaceport, Cypress Beta 32 The spaceport bustles with activity as the damned arrive on Cypress Beta, shuttles ejecting passengers and launching within minutes to carry more contestants from the orbital station above the planet. Different sections of the spaceport are cordoned off for different teams and competitors; it is explained, on the shuttle ride down from the orbital station, that teams are organized not entirely by god, but by ticket number. Upon leaving the shuttle, a servitor takes your ticket and scans it, before directing you towards one of the many buildings (presumably hotels in a past life) off of the strip leading to the spaceport. You are given the number and code to enter a conference room, and sent on your way. Inside the conference room, you find several chairs of different shape and size, and a long table on the back side of the room under a banner saying 'WELCOME 2 CYPRESS, LEGION BETA 13'. On the table are assorted snacks and sundries, as well as a fresh, steaming pot of recaf next to a pile of paper plates and Styrofoam cups. For all involved, this is an incredibly odd way to kick off a grand tournament. Welcome to the game, guys! We'll get started by having everyone crowd into a lovely old terran style conference room with doughnuts and poo poo on the back counter. Feel free to introduce yourselves, recognize one another, or even just hold someone down and fart on them if they're a rival god's plebe. Once we've got everyone in here, we'll get the show going.
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Sep 16, 2013 23:19
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With the shattering of the pot of recaf, a door set in the back of the room opens, and a wheeled servitor trundles out. It quietly and quickly cleans up the mess to the best of its ability and retreats back to its closet for a moment, before returning with another pot of fresh recaf and a platter of finger sandwiches (made with some sort of processed grox-like product, and not real fingers.) Once again it returns to the closet and shuts the door behind it, and goes still.
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Sep 16, 2013 23:51
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Moments after the khornate doodles on the wall with his own blood, the same servitor trundles out of the back closet. It whirs over to the wall and raises a robotic arm, spritzing a blue fluid onto the wall which cause the blood to run and smear. The servitor produces a rag and wipes the wall down, before turning jerkily back towards the closet and wheeling back in. The door shuts with a quiet and unominous click.
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Sep 17, 2013 01:09
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Almost immediately after the napkin hits the floor, the servitor wheels itself back out and, with an oddly placed grabbing pincer, picks the napkin up from the floor and pulls it into its body. The machine almost has a look of harried annoyance on its face for having been called out so many times, but returns to the closet without so much as a clank.
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Sep 17, 2013 01:24
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Approaching the closet door, the Butcher notices there is no door handle on his side of the door. The door itself is made of cheap looking pressed wood, and a solid rap on the door proves it is hollow and not a solid slab of wood. The servitor does not respond when the door is knocked on. The pot of recaf steams gently; it is very warm.
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Sep 17, 2013 03:21
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Johann the nurgling thumps against the side of the recaf jug, unprepared for the sudden journey. After a moment, the little daemon rights itself and grips the jar with its scrawny arms, grunting as it hefts it up to smash it. There is a look of triumph on the creature's face as the container is hoisted, but then its weight shifts and throws the nurgling off balance. It shrieks in terror as it stumbles backwards, falling off of the table with the recaf in hand. It is crushed and splashed with skewered with glass as the recaf shatters. Amazingly, it survives, and stands up, giving the Butcher a weak thumbs up before slipping on the wet tile. There is an expectant pause as everyone turns to look to the door. Moments pass, and finally the door swings open. The same servitor trundles out, wheeling over to the prone nurgling. It leans over, and a small nozzle extends from its mouth. The nurgling looks up in confusion as it is engulfed in flames from the servitor's flamer, and then doused with flame retardant foam. The servitor goes about cleaning up the mess caused by the nurgling and itself, giving the Butcher a moment to peer into the adjacent closet. Beyond, the Butcher can see a kitchen manned entirely by servitors and acolytes, who simper under the whip of a man clad only in leather strips across key parts of his anatomy. The man seems to enjoy whipping the creatures under his command regardless of what they do, and he chastises them for not sweetening the recaf enough, or for putting too much lettuce on the grox-meat sandwiches. He pauses mid-whip, noticing he and his crew are being spied on, and he stomps over and slams the door with a curse. The servitor bumps into the Butcher's back and beeps to be let by.
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Sep 17, 2013 04:14
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The moment that Drevan tackles the servitor, the creature gives off a wail akin to a klaxon siren, and to his shock the khornate is hurled upwards and backwards through the air, landing on his stomach on the card table, which smashes underneath him. The servitor pivots, now bristling with flamers and arcing prods and various other implements of doom, before retracting them upon seeing the mess that has been made. It trundles over to the card table and unceremoniously shoves the renegade off of it, before gathering the shattered table and taking it out through the front door. Butcher only gets a glare in return for his requests, and the whip cracks ineffectively against his gauntlet. "Non! No liquor! Is BYOB, look at invitation next time, stupid!" The chef turns back to his duties, and the Butcher gets a glimpse of way too much pallid flesh. The chef barks an order and another servitor trundles forward, carrying a platter of crackers with squares of cheese on them, and bumps into the Butcher with a squeak. Stepping out into the hallway, those searching for the other convention halls find the escort for Hugh standing outside, four massive looking marines in pitted and scarred armor. From the scowling helmets with their bronze horns, Mordred and Veneificus can tell they are khornates. They turn their heads towards the opening door and draw a veritable arsenal of melee weapons which buzz and roar to life. "THERE IS NO LEAVING! SIT DOWN AND ENJOY THE SNACKS, CUR!" Meanwhile, Bart flips another card over and stares at intently, hearing a buzzing in the back of his head. This must mean something. It must be important. He sits back to mull over this and bumps his head into Hugh's hovering servo-skull, interrupting its buzzing engine. Fortunately for all involved, Hugh and Hassan both have brought their own assortment of beverages; in spite of there being eight of them there, however, the khornates refuse to let the essential crew members pass. There must be a ninth coming to join the party.
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Sep 17, 2013 05:15
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Posting the daemon weapons for those who have rolled them. Mordred: And'ux (Power Sword) 1d10+9 E 9 PEN Power Field, Balanced, Warp Weapon, Thirsting, Furious Impact -Each hit inflicts one level of fatigue. -Every other round, charge attack may be made to deal weapon damage to all enemies 1m around the target. Enemies may dodge/parry as necessary, but no attack roll is needed. Bart: Dakoth (Shotgun) 30m S/-/- ROF 1d10+7 I 7 PEN INFINITE Ammo Reliable, Scatter, Tearing -Gain a focus power bonus equal to +6 while shotgun is drawn. -On suffering one or more wounds, target must pass a +0 T test or roll on mutation chart. Hugh: Anablar (Laspistol) 30m S/2/- ROF 2d10+5 E 3 PEN INFINITE Ammo Reliable, Crippling (3), Felling (4) -Gain 1 Corruption on rolling a 9 or a 10 for damage. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 06:17 on Sep 17, 2013 |
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Sep 17, 2013 06:00
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Mordred hurls himself at the Khornate who insulted him, and, being they follow the Blood God Khorne, none of his allies deign to step aside in the face of combat. When the former Black Templar brings his blade about in a dervish, each of the warriors deflects his attack, though two narrowly do so and suffer minor cosmetic damage to the paint on their armor. Now, standing in the middle of four Khorne Berserkers who loom almost a foot taller than he due to mutation, Mordred ponders the intelligence of such an attack. The one in particular that insulted him looks down upon him with an impassive bronze and red steel faceplate, locked into an eternal snarl of hatred. He lifts his head and looks to his compatriots, before shrugging and barking a laugh. "NOTHING SAYS WE CAN'T DEFEND OURSELVES! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" The berserker hefts his chain axe and, with a roar, brings it down with all of his might at the former Templar; Mordred brings his shield up in time to stop the blow, but the following stroke batters it aside and cuts deep into his armor, sending a spray of blood into the air. Mordred staggers from the force of the attack, and is unable to raise his shield in time to avert the third blow, which throws him off of his feet. He lands with a thud in the doorway, utterly still. The berserker laughs and flicks the blood from his axe, shaking his head. "COME BACK WHEN THE DARK ONE DECIDES YOU AREN'T A LITTLE poo poo." As the group heads back to the doorway they were guarding, the servitor from before stops and beeps forlornly as it keeps bumping into Mordred's still form. It bends over, inspecting the wound, and with a practice hand begins sealing it, stopping the blood flow. It only takes a minute for the servitor to have patched the marine back together, and the robotic corpse jabs a needle into the marine's neck, pumping him full of adrenaline. The black Templar snaps his eyes open and gasps deeply, coughing blood from his throat as he regains his life. I do want to point out that Astus DID ask, 'Are these guys here just to keep us from splitting the party until everyone is here?' and I said yes. And then he still attacked them. SO, FAIR WARNING GIVEN. Not gonna claim this as a death, so no Infamy burn or loss, Astus will count as full wounds once we actually get underway. Anything beyond this will be real. I promise they won't be so poo poo tough when you run into them next time, right now they're just this strong to act as a deterrent to trying to start things without everyone here.  http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4220774/ Khornate parry tests, all four parry. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4220777/ Khornate attacks, all but one hit. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4220778/ One attack parried. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4220780/ Damage from one, tearing, lightning attack; 29 damage, 3 pen 29 - 9 AP - 8 TB = 12 damage, Mordred has 6 wounds. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4220783/ Second swing, 30 damage, 3 pen 30 - 15 = 15, Morderd is at -9 wounds. LOOKS LIKE THE OTHER NERDS AREN'T JUMPING IN ANYWAYS John Dyne fucked around with this message at 07:33 on Sep 17, 2013 |
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Sep 17, 2013 07:13
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When Alex knocks the recaf pot down, there is a expectant pause.. but no servitor emerges, much to the group's disappointment. Now the Dark Apostle's armor has coffee stains on it and there will likely be ants in someone's future. At some point during the discourse over religion and philosophy, a squat looking creature in a tailored suit with grey skin, buggy eyes, and a luxurious, silken beard waddles into the room. He stands in confusion as he listens to champions of the four separate gods actively discussing the meaning of evil and the beliefs and mantras of their chosen guard, and as the conversation turns to shirtless armor, he clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is gritty yet squeaky. "Beta 32! You guys are up! Come on, come on, all of the betas are gettin' set up! You guys are on next!" Turning, the little creature waddles back out, leaving the door open. Passing by the door in the hallway are other marines and heretics of the various gods, chatting amongst one another and occasionally shoving someone into a wall. So far, it seems Beta 32 is the best behaved of the groups, save for the usual Khornate shenanigans.
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Sep 18, 2013 04:47
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The creature makes a rude gesture at Drevan. "The name's Earl, y'skanky poo poo! And I'm a squat! You never seen no squat before? JEEZ, FETHIN' IMPERIALS. C'mon, ladies!" He continues to trundle off, leading the group towards a large set of doors opposite from where they came in. All of the other heretics seem to be headed the same way, and the groups are knitting closer together to keep cohesion, much to how Butcher suggested.
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Sep 18, 2013 05:14
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The squat ignores the cat calls and insults and scurries through the crowd to the doors. Surrounding Beta 32 are several other groups, most much smaller than the nine that the group boasts; most are in numbers holy to a certain god, and very few are as mixed with Marines and humans as 32, let alone mixed with gods. Several of the devotees glare at their counterparts in Beta 32, with many shaking their heads and tsking. With a clearing of his throat, the squat raises his voice over the crowd. "LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND SLAANESHI THAT ARE BOTH! I WELCOME YOU ONE AND ALL, TO THE PRELIMINARY ELIMINTATION ROUND OF THE GREAT HUNT! WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, I BID YOU ENTER... THE FIELDS!" The squat throws the doors open behind him, and brilliant light floods in through the doorway, even overpowering marine photovisors.  Beyond the door, a vast field of roses sits inside of a great horse-shoe shaped stadium, filled with screaming, gibbering fans. In the middle, by the stands, is a podium, where a sharply dressed man with a waxed moustache and a deep tan stands before a microphone. Several obviously cowed and bound daemons usher the different groups to different parts of the field, but arranging in such a way they are all before the podium. As the teams gather, a reverential hush goes over the stadium. Several people on the lower seats go into convulsions, many collapsing and vomiting blood onto the grass. They are lifted and carried away by men in armored robes, while another man in a more flavorful robe pauses to inspect the patterns in the vomit. He gives a thumbs up to the man with the moustache, and a chuckle echoes over the speakers. "One and all, we have received auspicious signs! Slaanesh takes six souls of six who have died of drug overdose, and from them, we have drawn eight liters of blood in the name of the blood god, which is fed to vats of a blood eating virus, for absolutely no bloody reason! Ha!" The crowd erupts into applause and cheering once more, before a wave of a tanned hand silences them. "Without hesitation, we will let the games.... BEGIN!" He half turns, making a chopping gesture with his hand, where a peon yanks away the drape covering a massive scoreboard, listing all 12 teams. The mustachioed man grins and throws his arms into the air. "RELEASE THE HOUNDS!" With a slow rattle, several gates around the stadium are pulled open, and from them stagger an entire regiment of guardsmen, wary and confused. Several raise their hands to protect their eyes from the harsh stadium lighting, but others see the heretical marines and other devotees of the dark gods and react accordingly; the obvious leaders begin barking commands and cracking heads together to break any sort of fear, and more veteran guardsmen raise their rifles and start opening fire. Lasbolts rake through the twelve different groups as guardsmen pour on the fire, the first few shots causing others to find their resolve. Before long, the entire field is alight with red lights, and already human heretics from the front groups are falling. One chaos marine, forming a team of his own, simply raises his hand to ward off the lasers, grimacing as he draws a wicked looking curved blade. An explosion rocks the stadium and there is a cheer as Imperial guardsmen fly across the field from the force of a concussive blast from a psyker. Near Beta 32, a platoon of guardsmen open fire, aiming for the marines who are blocking the smaller, human targets. The scoreboard dances with numbers and lights seemingly irrelevant to the way combat goes on. You are facing a Magnitude 30 horde, with three separate NPCs leading them: a commissar with plasma pistol and power sword, a sergeant with a shotgun and a chainsword, and a cleric with a heavy flamer. I am using the Tome of Blood rules for hordes so humans CAN damage the hordes. The closest you can be here is charge range, while the furthest is approximately 35 meters. This way you guys can be positioned how you like. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 21:59 on Sep 19, 2013 |
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Sep 19, 2013 01:51
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Off in the distance, as Hassan prepares to play a righteous riff on his guitar to startle the masses, another Noise Marine beats him to the punch, filling the air with a discordant harmony, featuring audio that is remixed on the fly with the bass dropped. Hassan's performance clashes with the other marine's in such a way that the crowd's slaaneshi population screams in ecstasy, and the scoreboard lights up for Beta 32. Kayleen strides forward, slinging her gauss rifle free, a thin cord trailing from it to the base of her skull. The weapon thrums as she raises it and the coils whine with energy as the trigger is pulled... and then she screams in pain, yanking the MIU from the base of her skull and gripping her head in her hands. The weapon has misfired horribly, and lands smoking on the ground, and the energy had to go somewhere. Meanwhile, Drevan leads a berserker charge into the heart of the guardsmen, shoving men aside as he raises his runesword on high. He bellows a challenge to the commissar, who turns and sneers. "I KNOW A DESERTER WHEN I SEE ONE!" The commissar flourishes with his power sword, but is too slow to defend himself; Drevan runs him clean through the stomach, lifting the commissar off of his feet with the force of the impact. With a practiced swing, he flings the body of the commissar from his blade and turns, ready to fight another target. The commissar tumbles, but amazingly throws his hand out to stop his tumble and struggles to a kneeling position, his sword abandoned and his arm across his gut. The scoreboard strobes, displaying a message commending the Khornate on his strike. The psyker, Bart, turns his daemonic shotgun on the cleric, who seems to freeze at the sight of the weapon and all of the Chaos Marines around him. Bart, however, has his aim ruined by the noise marine's discordant music, and instead peppers the flowers with mutating shot. A patch of flowers becomes sentient and uproots itself, scurrying away and revealing the pink ground beneath. However, the other Tzeentchian performs much better, tearing a rift in the thin fabric between reality and the horrors of the beyond with a mere thought. Torrents of warpstuff roil across the battlefield, quieting the screams of the guardsmen as it snuffs the light from them by forcing itself down their throats and through their nostils. Once the cloud has passed, half of the guardsmen lie dead; the sergeant tries his hardest to keep the men together, in spite of the injured commissar. However, as the sorcerer begins to gloat, he winks out of existence, leaving a small puff of smoke. Bart can sense that the Thousand Son has disappeared into the warp. Compared to his Khornate lesser, Mordred fares much better, swinging the sword melded to his arm in wide arcs that slice through muscle and hew bone and split skulls and ribs. He pushes in through the horde with determination, cutting a swathe through the guardsmen as he marches towards the sergeant. After several kills, the horde parts before him, terrified of the damage caused by the former Templar. The Butcher lands in his wake and mops up the few stragglers behind him, carving them up with little effort. Seeing as the majority of their comrades have died, the remainder of the horde starts to scramble away from Beta 32 in terror, dropping their weapons and screaming. Hassan wags a finger in disapproval before slamming his hand down along the chords on his weapon. The air distorts as the ear splitting sound rolls out in a concussive shockwave. At least one skull pops from the noise, and others fall down screaming, holding their hands to bleeding ears, eyes, and noses, while some simply double over and vomit blood as their guts are hammered into paste. Lifting his head, the commissar's eyes are full of raw hatred for the Khornate that struck him. He sees his men have all been destroyed and raises his pistol with a shaking hand. "EMPEROR, IF YOU BE WITH ME NOW, MAKE MY AIM BE TRUE TO STRIKE DOWN THIS ABOMINATION!" The weapon whines and after a moment, a searing sphere of plasma hurtles forth at a blinding speed; in the blink of an eye, it has left the gun and struck Drevan clean in the chest, throwing him from his feet with the force of the resulting explosion. Heat washes over him and reddens his skin as he lands on the ground, smoking and hidden by the flowers. Witnessing the commissar's attack, the sergeant bellows and charges towards Bart, raising his chainsword to swing it. As Bart prepares to dodge, the guardsman raises his shotgun instead and grins cruelly, pulling both triggers to empty both barrels. Fortunately for Bart, he trips on his robe and stumbles out of the way, and a pellet whizzes by his ear, leaving a faint whine to echo in his head. The cleric, meanwhile, has dropped both of his weapons and fallen to his knees, weeping and praying. The commissar gives him a nasty look, still struggling to get his feet under him. Vern is in the warp for 1 round. He gains 1 infamy. Drevan gains 1 infamy. Mordred gains 1 infamy. Hassan gains 1 infamy. Only the commissar and sergeant remain, and the commissar is at 1/4th of his maximum wounds. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224281/ WEAPON JAM FOR THE HERETEK, SHAMEFUL http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224282/ Drevan, 77 vs 125, HIT http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224294/ Drevan Damage, 25 pen 4 25 - 4 - 1 = 20 wounds dealt, Regen 5 added to Drevan http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224283/ Bart misses http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224285/ Vern deals 12 magnitutde damage http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224286/ Mordred inflicts 8 magnitude http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224288/ Butcher inflicts 4 magnitude http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224292/ Hassan deals 8 magnitude. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224295/ Commissar HITS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224300/ Drevan fails to dodge http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224322/ 16 damage (Proven 4) 16 - 0 (6 AP - 10 Pen) - 5 TB = 11 damage http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224324/ Sergeant, MISS Cleric frozen in fear of Chaos Marines
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Sep 19, 2013 23:00
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Leaping to his feet, Drevan charges the commissar once more, and attempts to misdirect the man's attentions; however, Khorne's followers are not masters of deception, and the commissar knows this. He waits for the follow through and brings his power sword up, the two weapons clashing together and hissing violently as the sanctified blade of the commissar meets the tainted metal of the renegade. The two blades separate in a shower of sparks as the commissar pushes Drevan back, sneering. "If the Imperium were pathetic, wretch, you would have slain me already! The Schola produces the finest warriors in the galaxy, and I will not fall to some pissant who couldn't tie his own shoes!" The commissar swings wide, flinching as he moves due to his injuries, and Drevan easily bats the attack aside. The two stand, sizing each other up; they are a fairly equal match, and the crowd's attention is on them, away from the routine chaos of the rest of the arena. A spotlight shines, and both men raise an arm to shield their eyes from the brilliant light, before realizing there was an advantage; again, the commissar and Drevan meet blade to blade, each man trying their damnedest to land a blow. Again, they separate with a shower of sparks, as the power field on the commissar's weapon hisses and the runes on the renegade's weapons glower and smolder. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224422/ regen failed http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224426/ Commissar WS vs Feint, 4 DoS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224427/ Drevan, fails the feint http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224428/ Drevan attack, MISS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224429/ Commissar attack, MISS
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Sep 20, 2013 00:24
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While Drevan and the commissar duel, Butcher takes to the skies to survey the battlefield; all through the arena, the fights are going pretty well as one would expect. Few of the groups are having much issue with the guardsmen, but none are having fights half as interesting. He watches the scoreboard strobe to reflect Beta 32 taking a lead, though what exactly is earning them points is lost on him. With a shrug, the nurgle sorcerer swoops down and collars the sergeant, who didn't expect such an attack. As this happens, Mordred shoots the sergeant; his carapace armor mercifully absorbs most of the shot, but the inferno pellets striking his uniform underneath set him on fire. He screams, in pain and terror, as he is whisked away into the skies above the arena, still burning. Kayleen takes aim as the sergeant sails into the sky and fires once, the lance of green energy striking him in the leg and flaying the flesh away. The sergeant howls in agony and struggles in the Butcher's grasp, lost to fear as he panics and ignores the height he's at. While this happens, the servoskull commanded by the Heretek hovers towards the cleric, who raises his head and looks at it in bleary confusion. It is the last thing the cleric sees before he is fully engulfed in flame, and through it all, he remains silent, lost to shock. The commissar circles with Drevan, the two watching each other's movements as the warband lets the Khornate have his duel. Once again, Drevan attempts to fake out his opponent, but as before, the Commissar isn't falling for it. He waits for Drevan's attack and bats it aside with his sword, sneering. "We're done here, Khornate! I may die, but by the Emperor, Westin Bradshaw will drag you with him!" The commissar pistons his foot out and kicks Drevan square in the groin, distracting him sufficiently for the commissar to sweep in and drive his sword through the khornate's shoulder, just shy of his neck by inches. The sanctified blade screams and crackles as it pierces flesh that has been marked by Khorne, and hisses viciously as the flesh is seared. The commissar staggers back, his eyes going fuzzy from exertion. "E-Emperor.. I come.." He slumps backwards, finally succumbing to shock and blood loss, and lay still on the ground, breathing raggedly. A silence fills the arena, as the majority of the stadium, including the players, had been watching the fight on the jumbotron. There is a roar from the other guardsmen and they fight back with a fury, actually slaying a few heretics and a single marine before being stomped into the ground. The mustachioed man claps his hands and leans into the microphone. "Bloody brilliant! We haven't had an opening ceremony like that in decades! A round of applause for our lovely commissar and his unfortunate Khornate friend! Take the two of them to medical for recovery, I'm certain they'll want a rematch!" Within moments, several robed men shove past the rest of Beta 32, using a set of tongs to pry the sanctified sword from Drevan's body before moving in to check his pulse and other vitals. One of the robed men shakes his head and stands up, cracking his knuckles before electrifying the renegade's body, restarting his heart with sorcery. Drevan convulses and awakens, though not completely able to cogitate what exactly is going on, and is lifted on a stretcher to be carried to the medward. Similar robed beings bind the commissar's wounds, and ignore his feeble attempts to bat them away; his plasma pistol is taken from him, and his sword is dragged onto a separate stretcher and carried alongside him, following behind Drevan. It's obvious to the others that if Drevan wakes up first, he is likely to be unhappy to be sharing a bedroom with the commissar. "What a lovely, wonderful fight! I am sure Khorne himself was watching with rapt attention; who knew a deranged lunatic could do so well? And did you see the Khornate?" The crowd bursts into laughter at this, and the man just soaks it in before clearing his throat. "Legion Beta 32, for your comrade's beautiful battle and the misuse of sorcery that came from your Thousand Sons, we bid you a most warm welcome into the halcyon halls of the Winner's Circle! It will not matter in two hours that you are there, but please, enjoy it; we have much higher quality recaf there!" The man laughs heartily at this, before growing grim and gripping the podium with enough strength to cause the wood to groan and splinter. "But seriously, stop breaking the damned carafes. Those things are expensive." Regaining his composure, the man turns and signals to someone on top of the jumbotron. He turns back, as the giant television is cut loose and falls, crashing down on a section of stadium and killing hundreds. "A respite, to reload and recover for our stalwart contestants! Return to your rooms, my friends; we will gather you within the hour! Beta 32, if you will come with me, I will let you have the honor of knowing before hand what you will face in the next round!" With that, the man dismounts the stage and brushes himself off, before moving to a door opposite the original entry door; it is the same door Drevan and the commissar were taken through. Had to reroll the feint duel numerous times because loving Drevan and the commissar kept tying for DoS. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224458/ http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224459/ http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224461/ Drevan attack, HIT http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224464/ Commissar PARRIES http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224465/ Commissar HITS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4224466/ Drevan DOES NOT PARRY THE CROWD GOES WILD AAAAA the commissar deals 1d10+10 damage and ignores all of Drevan's armor, so rather than forcing a death, we'll end the duel and save it for later.  Everyone gains 1 additional infamy, and Drevan gains two corruption as well as Hatred (Commissars). Have another 500 XP, because gently caress it, you're worth it.
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Sep 20, 2013 01:25
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Grand Prize: Decadence The Butcher's throw sends the sergeant spiraling through the air, where he continues to scream until he passes out from a mixture of pain and interia. Hassan reaches the other noise marine and greets him, just as he turns and gets a face full of fiery guardsman. The noise marine is knocked off his feet by the throw and curses loudly as he scrambles to get the burning corpse from his body. Butcher smartly leaves the skies and follows the others before the noise marine regains his feet. While Hassan is discussing the finer points of amplifying farts to an ear-splitting level, the others are lead through the second building to a lavish suite with an artificial view of the ocean. The mustachioed man leaves them there without a further word, clapping his hands as he opens the door which leads to a flood of servitors with buckets of ice and champagne, platters of fine foods, and actual coffee. He gives the group a smile and tips his hat, shutting the door halfway. He has a hushed conversation with someone outside before opening the door and pointing towards Alexios. The four berserkers from before shoulder into the room and storm into the Dark Apostle, and the one that tore Mordred up slams the haft of his axe into Alexios' nose, shattering it with a wet crunch and a spray of blood. As he reels, the others slam the flat of their weapons into his skull and throat, cracking bone and crushing trachea with a wet squelch. The marine crumples under the assault, his breathing ragged and wet; the Khornates chuckle and grab his legs, dragging him from the room. When all is said and done, the announcer steps back into the room, smiling. "Battle-Brother Alexios of the Raven Guard almost had us fooled, but worry not, friends; no Loyalist idiots will be allowed to ruin your chances within the great game. I will find you a replacement shortly, and we will see if we cannot use him for our next stage of the games, but until then, please; enjoy our hospitality. The governor shall greet you himself shortly. Until then, enjoy the facilities and all that it contains." He smiles broadly and bows with a flourish, before shutting the door behind him. Medical Bay Elsewhere, in a white, sterile room, Drevan wakes to find himself skewered with different IV drips and needles, with bloodied gauze wrapped around his shoulder and various stitches healing all over his body. He feels pain in the shoulder, but there is a click and a whirr to his left as a machine dispenses a drug into him that dulls the pain. The dosage is light, but he can tell too much of it will put him right back to sleep. He is not restrained now, as he was earlier; after his previous rage, the medicae must have assumed he would be out for awhile. Across the room, behind a shimmering field, lay the commissar in a similar state. He is still unconscious, and his gut is wrapped with gauze and medical tape and his body is also pinned with needles and IV drips. His torso is almost as muscular as Drevan's, and bears just as many scars of battle as the khornate, though he notices that the skin of the man's left forearm has been flayed open, revealing cybernetics beneath it. He can't tell how much of the man's sword arm is mechanical now, but at least he knows that much of Bradshaw. Not far from both men, on small cots tucked away several paces away and separated by the shimmering barrier, lay their equipment; the khornate's harness and the commissar's flak greatcoat, as well as their respective weaponry. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 03:55 on Sep 22, 2013 |
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Sep 22, 2013 03:18
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Medical Bay The commissar stirs, groaning as he starts to sit up. He blinks, bleary eyed, and rubs a hand over his face, screwing his face as he tries to focus. Finally, it seems like he has an understanding of where he is, and he finally spies Drevan glaring at him. Westin leaps to his feet and looks around for something to wield or throw, but finds nothing. He stands still for a moment, watching, until he turns his head and notices the field surrounding the both of them. He relaxes slightly, but casts glances towards the khornate as he inspects what is essentially his cell. After a moment of looking, he strides towards the field and places his hand against it; it shimmers and seems to solidify at his touch but apparently causes no pain, and he shakes his head. He watches Drevan, before finally speaking. "You should be dead. Or you should have at least killed me so we both wouldn't be locked in these drat cells." Westin yanks the needles and such from his arms and tosses them to the ground before sitting back on his cot, scowling at nothing in particular. He notices his gear on the opposite side of the field and somehow scowls even harder, keeping an eye on the khornate. In the distance, Drevan can hear what sounds like the click of heels on tiles; it sounds like a nurse should be coming soon. Victory Unlike the other room, breaking things and making a mess doesn't cause a servitor to appear to clean things up. The nurgling hops up and down in excitement as Bart lays his cards out, and the little creature waddles up and down the cards lined out for him before pointing towards a specific card. The psyker flips the card, revealing a card with a mysterious, androgynous figure in the center; in the four corners are the head of a bull, the head of a bird, the skull of an ox, and the head of a lion. In turn, he flips over the inverted form of a card typically depicting a man hung by his foot, and the third card is the eponymous Emperor, seated upon his golden throne, also inverted. Before he can move to flip another card, the rest of the cards sail into the air and condense into a deck, which spins in mid-air. Only a single card remains, and with a hesitant hand, the psyker turns the card, revealing a crumbling tower being struck by lightning. Echoing through the brains of all assembles is a horrific cackle, as the cards over Bart's head spin rapidly and begin shooting out in all directions; they embed themselves in the wall, forming a crude eight-pointed star on the wall before bursting into flames and scorching the symbol into the plaster. All commotion in the room ceases at this psychic phenomenon, and the cards on the table continue to glimmer faintly with residual psychic energy. The room is silent, save for the thrum of power from the cards. Ferragus, the nurgling, ruins the silence with a tiny, squeaky fart.
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Sep 24, 2013 21:29
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Medical Bay Westin looks up at Drevan's question and furrows his brow. "I.. don't remember. I think we had made a jump into the warp, and then the next thing we all knew, those doors were opening. I blame some foul sorcery." He spits on the floor and grins, leaning back. "If you hadn't deserted, you might have been fighting alongside me back there, and we might have actually won this bloody thing for the Emperor. Shame that someone of your caliber is wasted on Chaos, though I don't know why you're fighting in a tournament hosted by the gods who supposedly oppose yours." As he speaks, the source of the clicking rounds the corner into the room, and it certainly isn't anyone on high-heels. A corpulent torso, stitched and sewn shut in various places, is attached to a machine with four thin, spider-like legs that scurry across the floor; the creature has many tubes and wires snaking across and into his body, and the lower part of his skull is replaced with a wheezing respirator, while half of his upper skull is encased in metal with a bionic eye that glows a baleful green. The other eye is sharp and attentive, and darts between the two men. One arm has been replaced in its entirety with what looks like a plasma cannon, while the other arm is normal until it ends in a crackling blade. Bradshaw narrows his eyes at the creature and stands up. While the being is busy tucking the bladed arm under one of its spidery legs to remove it, the commissar nods subtly towards the weapons and then back at the creature, trying to ascertain if Drevan will help fight their captor when they are freed. Before the Khornate can respond, the creature lifts it head and wiggles the fingers on its bionic hand. "Ahhhh, much better. How are our fan-favorites doing, hrm?" The being coughs nastily and clacks over towards a console near the commissar's cage. "First, the Imperial. We can't leave you here where it's nice and comfortable; we have a cell for you to, ahem, rest in. The isolation should drive you insane enough to fight with a berserker fury when you finally face the Khornate." The field fizzles and falls, and the creature turns, starting to raise its plasma cannon; unfortunately, it is too slow, as Westin had already leapt the short distance and slammed his elbow into its throat. Doctor Urgauss wheezes pitifully and stumbles back, regaining his balance quickly. He begins to reach for his blade but the commissar clambers up onto his spider rigging and grabs the good doctor's face, slamming a knee into the remaining flesh and causing the doctor to stumble again. With great agility, Westin reaches down and yanks the doctor's blade free and hurls it towards the panel by Drevan's cage, where it embeds itself and crackles menacingly before shorting out, dropping the cage. Commissar Bradshaw whips around and grabs onto both sides of the doctor's mask, yanking on the tubes leading to his respirator. Sickly green air squirts from the joints in the hose, but the commissar can't get good purchase. Urgauss tries to fire his plasma cannon over his shoulder at the commissar, but misses completely, and Westin ducks down. "THROW ME MY SWORD AND HELP ME KILL THIS loving MONSTROSITY!" Ambushed? As the group recovers from the odd tarot reading, Bart, the Butcher, and Veneficus feel a strange ripple in the warp around them. The card of The World hovers into the air and spins in place, glowing with alternating colors. There is a brilliant, blinding flash of light that throws Bart across the room, which slams him into a far wall and winds him. There is a cry that sounds like someone making a nonsense noise and then, standing in the middle of the room, are four heavily mutated marines. They wear no armor and each wield a crackling force weapon of some sorts, and flourish them with glee. They pose with one another, grinning madly. "Gauguin, ready to lead!" speaks the one with the head of a bird. "MUNCH IS READY!" bellows the bull-headed one. "Renoir is prepared to do battle with our terrible foe!" cries forth the one with the head of a lion. "YOLO, Degas is ready to gently caress some fucks the gently caress up, woo!" ejaculates the one with an ox-skull with no flesh or eyes. They pause, however, and look around in confusion. The one with the head of a lion speaks first. "Uhm, guys, according to my calculations this is not where we wanted to be. I think we're off by about fourteen minutes; they're already here and I think they can take us." "HA HA MUNCH SMASH THEM ALL!" Munch is restrained momentarily by Gauguin and Degas, who seem as wary as Renoir. It is obvious they had intended to ambush the group when they had entered the room earlier, but they seem wholly incompetent.
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Sep 26, 2013 03:33
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Medical Bay Westin catches the sword with his free hand and uses the throw's momentum to twirl the blade before driving it right between the heretek's shoulders. Urgauss gives an unearthly scream and reaches over his shoulder, grabbing Westin by the hair and yanking him free, hurling him into the far wall. Drevan weaves out of the way of the flying commissar and lunges forward, burying his sword in Urgauss' gut, and is also batted away by the fat doctor. He skids to a stop next to the commissar, and they both look up when they hear the unearthly whine of the doctor's tainted plasma cannon. Bradshaw scrambles to his feet and lunges for his greatcoat, cursing under his breath as he rifles through his pockets. Drevan tries to get to his feet but he fails to find purchase on the tile floor, and after a moment Westin cries out in triumph. "FOUND IT! OH gently caress LET THIS WORK FOR ONCE!" He moves forward, clutching something in his hand as the doctor fires, and Bradshaw thrusts his hand forward, wincing as he shuts his eyes. Drevan watches as the crackling sphere of plasma splashes against an invisible barrier a mere foot from Westin's body, washing over the commissar in a dazzling display of green light. The energy dissipates around the commissar, scorching the ground and turning the metal on the walls to slag. When the lights fade from Drevan's eyes, he sees the red, skull emblazoned and winged symbol of the Inquisition dangling from a chain clenched tightly in the commissar's fist. Westin breathes through clenched teeth, his face sheet white, and after a moment, the commissar gives a nervous laugh that boils over into a full, triumphant cackle. The commissar grins at Drevan and holds his hand out to help him up, while at the same time putting the rosarius around his neck. He hefts his own sanctified blade and shakes his head. "Never thought I'd help your like, but.. shall we?" He raises his sword so Drevan can strike his own blade against it in a sign of camaraderie. Urgauss simply stares in disbelief, looking at his cannon and back to the commissar. "That should not be possible! We deactivated all of your equipment in case it had tracking information! Oh, no, this is not good.." The doctor scurries towards the door, reaching for an alarm panel encased in glass. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4233270/ Drevan, 82 vs 110, SUCCESS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4233273/ 26 damage 26 - 12 TB - 4 AP = 10 damage With Westin's strike, 20 damage total has been dealt. Urgauss hits Westin, but Westin's force field activates and does not overload, shielding Drevan and Westin both from the blast.
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Sep 26, 2013 04:39
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Things Are Going Badly The heretek wastes no time in bringing her gauss weapon to bear, the weapon whining horrifically as it finally functions the way she wants it to for once. The room lights up in an unearthly green as she sprays horrific bolts of energy and shrapnel in the general direction of the more annoying, smaller mutant. He is unprepared for the attack and does not even try to move out of the way, the hellish flechettes ripping into his body and shredding the flesh on his shoulder and chipping the bone on his face. He staggers and curses, shaking his head violently and sending spatters of blood onto the floor. "DUDE, THAT IS TOTALLY FUCKIN' FAIL, WE GOT A BADASS OVER HERE GUYS." Degas draws a second blade and twirls it, grinning a rictus grin. As Kayleen infuriates the infuriating, Butcher storms across the room with a bellow, his nurglings mounting his shoulders and screeching in glee. He brings his sword around in a vicious swing at Gauguin, who deftly brings a chain-katana up in defense. He cocks his bird head amusingly and emits a cawing chuckle, shoving the marine back and retaliating with lightning quickness. Butcher bats the blow away, and when the mutant is exposed, the nurglings leap forward to latch onto his chest and face. After a moment of uselessly gnawing at his flesh, the bird mutant grunts and brushes the nurglings off with an utterance, glaring at the plague marine sorcerer before him. Hassan opens up with a nasty rift on his sonic blaster, aiming for the bull-headed mutant who is no longer being restrained. Only a single shockwave strikes the mutant, square in the face, and he flinches back from the blow, blood trickling from his mouth. He bellows in obscene rage and stomps at the ground, preparing to charge the noise marine, until Veneficus raises his staff and whispers a dark word of Tzeentchian might. Munch freezes in his charge and glances around, grinning."HEH HAW, MUNCH INVISIBLE NOW." He makes a face at one of the other mutants, who gives him a most curious look. Veneficus lowers his staff, before looking up to see a stormcloud that has manifested over his head; it rains directly onto him, and unleashes cartoonish bolts of lightning that spark against his helmet. Mordred, seeing an opening, engages his jetpack and takes two steps forward before letting the monstrous engine on his back take over. He hurtles through the air at a break neck speed, and slams with all of his might into Munch, his blade going deep into the monster's gut. The two are carried forward a short distance by sheer momentum before the bull-headed monster screams and wrenches himself free, staggering back. "LUCKY SHOT!!" In spite of the speed and power put into the strike, Munch seems mostly unfazed, if not more heavily wounded than before. It is Bartholomew, however, that unleashes the true might of Tzeentch. He extends his hand, and strands of blue and gold emerge from his finger tips, dancing and intertwining in the air in front of him. The colors snake through the air, coalaescing into a sphere that suddenly lances forward, rippling across the room towards Renoir. The lance splits, striking the lion-headed mutant in numerous places. Chaotic energy washes over his face and chest, and his scream is snuffed as the air is forced from his lungs; his eyes boil in their sockets, and after a moment of shuddering, the joint in his shoulder explodes violently, sending a rain of flesh and bone shrapnel across the room as his arm falls uselessly to the ground. He staggers back and is physically lifted from the ground by the warp energy, before being slammed onto his back with great force. The energy melts away into the floorboards, leaving a shuddering, barely breathing husk of a marine on the floor. Veneficus feels a tingle down his spine after all of this, and Butcher feels wholly unsafe. Bart cries out momentariy and clutches his head, dropping his shotgun as he staggers backwards two steps, doubled over. He shakes his head and exhales slowly, before standing upright again. The two sorcerers can tell something has changed about their ally, and again they feel the unpleasant feelings they felt before. The entire room suddenly feels as if a shockwave has suddenly struck it, with Bart at the epicenter. Veneficus can tell the psyker is drawing on much more power than he had before, and he watches as the human psyker hovers into the air, crackling with inhuman power. His voice rumbles and trebles, speaking from a place beyond reality, as he extends a hand towards the Butcher. The space marine finds his arms bound to him as he is lifted into the air effortlessly. "FOUL FOLLOWER OF THE PUSTULOUS ABOMINATION, YOUR PRECENSE OFFENDS ME DEEPLY. YOU WILL LEAVE. THANK YOU." In a wink of an eye, Butcher is gone in a puff of smoke; he stands once again in the stadium outside, slightly disoriented but no worse for wear. Bart smiles, folding his arms across his chest. "THIS IS MUCH MORE PLEASANT." Guiguin, now no longer engaged in melee by the Butcher, squawks in horror and runs over to Renoir, dropping to his knees and lifting the lion-headed man gently. "Brother! Speak to me! AWK! Don't die on me now, wake up!" Degas stands, uncertain of what to do; he looks forlornly towards his battered brother and the one cradling him in his arms, and in confusion at the bull-headed one that roams the room now, chuckling to himself and doing embarassing things. PbP is a hell of a drug. Renoir was just one damage shy of being outright killed, and Bart's powerful outburst drew the attention of a being he had no chance of winning a mental battle with. He is now a daemonhost, and under my control. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234544/ Kayleen, 49 vs 95, 3 DoS, 4 hits (Body, Body, Arm, Head) http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234545/ 20, 21, 14, 16 damage 20 - 11 TB = 9 damage 21 - 11 TB = 10 damage 14 - 11 TB = 3 damage 16 - 11 Tb = 5 damage 27 damage total http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234547/ Butcher, 74 vs 80, 1 hit (Body) http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234550/ Gauguin Parry, 76 vs 80, SUCCESS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234552/ Gauguin Counter-Attack, 55 vs 60, HIT http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234553/ Butcher Parry, 35 vs 50, SUCCESS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234554/ Nurlging Swarm, 3 hits http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234555/ Nurgling Damage 10 - 12 TB = 0 6 - 12 TB = 0 8 - 12 TB = 0 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234557/ Hassan vs 62, 1 hit http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234559/ Hassan Damage, 23, aiming at Munch 23 - 16 TB = 7 damage http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234594/ Vern vs 114, 17 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234563/ Munch T Test, 89 vs 50, 4 DoF http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234565/ Munch thinks he is invisible for 5 rounds, and wanders aimlessly. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234567/ Mordred, 7 vs 110, holy poo poo son http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234568/ 1, 4, 1 + 26 = 32 damage 32 - 16 TB = 16 damage, prone http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234573/ Munch is not stunned http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234589/ Bart's psychic roll, 88 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234577/ Bart damage, 2 ZH. 52 damage http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234579/ ZH, knocked prone, blinded, stunned; arm also explodes from body due to damage http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234599/ Bart's psychic phenom OH NO 100 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234600/ OH NO, POSESSION BATTLE http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234604/ Bart vs 55 WP, 64, 1 DoF http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4234605/ Lord of Change vs 88 WP, 24, 6 DoS Bart is possessed. He is now a GM PC. He gains 10 Strength and 10 Toughness, and 13 wounds. He gains all of the mental stats, skills, and talents of a Lord of Change, and retains all physical stats he has now. An exorcism will be required to free him. Only sorcerers and psykers will be able to tell that Bart has been possessed, on a -20 Psyniscience test. [23:46] <Astus> man, what is it about Dyne and screwing epicurius over [23:47] <Astus> it happens every game Vern picks 53 on phenom table. Degas - 63/90 wounds Renoir - MAY AS WELL BE DEAD/45 wounds Munch - 87/110 wounds Gauguin - 80/80 wounds Daemon Bart - 22/22 wounds, LORD OF CHANGE STATS, 44 S 49 T pre:Dakoth Bart WS BS S T Ag Int Per WP Fel 43 43 34 39 40 99 72 88 32 Initiative Bonus: 6 Wounds: 22/22 Infamy Points: 4/4 Skills: Dodges Traits/Talents: Jaded, Paranoia, Resistance (Psyker), Strong Minded, Unnatural Willpower (1), Daemonic (5), Supreme Sorcerer, Weaver of Fates, Daemonic Presence, From Beyond, Stuff of Nightmares, Psy Rating 10 Equipped Weapon: Dakoth (Shotgun) 30m S/-/- ROF 1d10+7 I 7 PEN INFINITE Ammo Reliable, Scatter, Tearing Equipped Armor: Mesh Combat Cloak AP: 4 Arms, Body, Legs Tarnor Mimic Mask (+20 to Charm, Deceive, Intimidate Tests, Half Action to give self Fear (1) Talisman of Tzeentch (All psykers not dedicated to Tzeentch must pass willpower test or lose 1 psy rating per degree of failure) Prismatic Amulet (Force Field, Protection rating 60, if overloads, attacker suffers 2d10 energy damage) John Dyne fucked around with this message at 15:30 on Sep 27, 2013 |
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Sep 27, 2013 14:52
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#mutants #daemonicpossession Bart looks curiously at Veneficus as he bows, his head cocking in a way most unnatural. When he speaks, his voice has a timbre to it unsuited to that of the soothseer. "Ah, a child of Magnus the Red. A pity.. we had seen how you push at the gossamer fabric that seperates the warp from reality and hoped it would be you that would let us spill over into reality. The psyker claws at the prison of his mind and peers out through eyes that are not his, and he does not accept this fate." The daemon languidly turns, watching as Kayleen opens fire on the mutants. Dregas is riddled with gauss fire and staggers back, howling in pain and confusion. He looks up to Bart and stops howling immediately, recognizing the daemonhost for what he truly is. The mutants drop their weapons and fall to their knees, prostrating themselves before the Lord of Change, save for Guiguin, who continues to hold his brother. With a slight exhalation, Bart is back on the ground, and he moves with unnatural speed over to the mutants. He lifts them all to their feet, one by one, and smiles at them. "Go unto the tournament and be my disciples. Let them know a true Tzeentchian has come to win favor for the God of Change. Tell them to cower, and to tremble, and prepare for their undoing." Without another word, the daemon waves his hand and the mutants are gone He turns to the others, giving them a cursory glance. "The human psyker would have me spare you, and to keep this shell content until it is burned out, I shall humor him. But next we meet, I will show the true power of Tzeentch to you unbelievers, and an inquisition shall be held to test the faithful and find those who are lacking." He smiles a smile too wide for his head, revealing rows and rows of shimmering teeth. "Farewell." Without even a puff of smoke, Bart is gone. Escape from Medbay In spite of the combined efforts of the khornate and the commissar, the hideous doctor slams his meaty hand against the alarm switch, and even has a moment to grin before the twin blades skewer his hide. He laughs a burbling laugh, viscous black blood flowing from his mouth even as his body shudders and fails. "The cameras.. are rolling, boys.. it will be a slaughter, but not.. like you want.." With a terrible tremor, the doctor vomits up a torrent of clotting blood and slumps, his bionics whining as they die. Klaxons wail in the distance, and red lights pulse through the hall and room. Westin sneers, planting his foot against the dead doctor and drawing his blade from the scarred, pox marked flesh. "It sounds like we're going to have a fight on our hands. In spite of everything, it would be a pleasure to continue fighting at your side, traitor." He grins at this last word and flicks blood from his blade, trying to keep the sword from causing it to smoke and boil away. "Augh, this rear end in a top hat smells horrible. Come on; we've got a facility to escape." Outside, the Butcher finds the building simply from the sound of the klaxons. He watches as a long stream of guards and security officers scramble towards the building, and looks over to the viewscreen which is showing the final half of Drevan and Westin's fight against the doctor. There is no sign that the broadcast is delayed, but Butcher notices the klaxons aren't lit in the vidscreen.
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Oct 3, 2013 16:45
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Newcomers There is a tingle in the air as the residual energy from the daemonic presence begins to fade away, but Veneficus feels a serious disturbance from around the Noise Marine. Something is taking advantage of the weakness in reality within the room, and Hassan begins to shudder violently, unable to speak or move as he merely gurgles, blood flowing down his chin from his mouth and nose. He doubles over, quaking, when suddenly the back plate of his armor buckles outwards. The marine stumbles from the blow, looking up in agony and confusion, before another blow wracks the front plate of his armor, denting it outwards. He goes rigid, his mouth hanging open in a scream, as a daemonic appendage punches clean out through his armor. Raw warp roils forth from the wound in Hassan's chest, and the hand (which Veneficus recognizes as one similar to his own flamer arm) wrenches the power armor's plating aside. Within a moment, there is a faint pop and a low shockwave that shoves the furniture in the room back a foot. Emerging from the now dead marine is a long-haired man in a blue robe, wielding a staff headed with the emblem of chaos. A ripple of chaotic energy flows down his body, smoothing his hair and clothing out and removing the gore from his miraculous entrance. At the same time, the door opens and another guy who looks like a girl that has been hit by a make up truck sashays into the room, announcing himself as a replacement for the traitorous marine from before. He pauses, catching the death of the noise marine and the aetheric birth of the psyker. He hesitates, before dramatically swooshing his cape back and forth and billowing it out behind him; there is a pop of smoke as he throws a pyrotechnics canister to the ground, which fails to go off properly. After a moment, his cloak drapes back down to the ground. He clasps the hem of the cape in his hand and pulls it up to shield his face, announcing himself once more in what he obviously believes to be a sinister sounding voice. He stalks forward into the room, drooping down low on each step.
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Oct 11, 2013 00:14
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Hospital Hijinks Westin hesitates, thinking. He growls as the klaxons keeps blaring and shoots one of them out with his plasma pistol, dulling the noise slightly. "Man can't even think with those things going. Fine. You haven't proven to be a complete fiend, and you're competent with a blade, and this will ultimately strike a blow to the ruinous power so yeah. I'm in." He shakes Drevan's hand with a smirk. Behind them, doors leading from outside the facility burst open and six men in carapace armor, wielding hell guns, move into formation in the door with half the men kneeling and the other half standing with a break in the middle, aiming at the commissar and berserker. A seventh man turns his torso as he passes between the guards, his boots clicking on the tile; he wears a carapace breastplate and slacks, with the framework of a powered exo-skeleton over his arms and legs. He raises a bullhorn to his mouth. "FREEZE! PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND DROP YOUR WEAPONS! IF YOU COMPLY WE WILL ESCORT YOU TO YOUR CELLS AND NO HARM SHALL COME TO YOU!" The hellguns whine as they start to power on, and Westin throws Drevan a glance and a grin. "We feint and take them out when they get close, or we just charge in to the jaws of hell and pray we come out the other side." He tightens his grip on his sword. "Your play, soldier." Elsewhere, Butcher's impact has sent a spray of brick and mortar into the room beyond, and when he lands and rights himself, he sees the carnage has wrought; several guards lay dead from the impact, while others merely reel in shock. Drawing his sword, he quickly ends the guards who still fight against him, and one is able to evade him long enough to open fire with his hellgun, but the lasers are not enough to penetrate the marine's ceramite armor, and are dissipated harmlessly. The Butcher hefts the man with his free arm and smashes him into a nearby support, ending his life with a sickening crunch, before bellowing for his comrade. He begins checking doors, finding rooms full of experimentations gone awry and wounded men who are being rejuvenated with dark science. After a half a dozen doors, the Butcher finds a door that has been actually sealed, and steps back to study it. The symbol of Nurgle is burned into the steel on the door, and it appears to have been hermetically sealed; all the more reason for the plague marine to simply boot the door down, causing a thick cloud of green miasma to roil forth from the room. Fanning the mist away, the Butcher steps into a containment room holding the largest mortal being he has ever seen, which futilely clutches a sword and shield in his t-rex arms; the being is clad in what is obviously ancient human terminator armor, and bears no mark of legion. In brief, the man in the room is fat and armed and is obviously a devotee of Nurgle. e: Forgot the Butcher's focus test. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4254678/ John Dyne fucked around with this message at 21:11 on Oct 12, 2013 |
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Oct 12, 2013 20:40
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Dumbassery Drevan screams like a maniac as he holds aloft the Icon of Khorne, the blood trailing down his arm in a lattice-work that is meaningful to the blood god. He charges forward with his blade held aloft, and the fury in his eyes unnerves two of the guards, who falter and start to fall from formation. The guard captain snorts and lowers his hand, giving the signal to fire. Westin, unable to react in time to stop Drevan, throws himself to the floor and covers his head, knowing full well what is about to happen. The hallway fills with searing red lances of energy, with Drevan running head long into the source of them. Elation fills him as the bolts glance harmlessly off of his reactor field, knowing the fight ahead will be glorious, and even continues unheeded as the first few bolts bypass the cycling of his energy field. However, one bolt strikes with such energy that the refractor field fizzles away, but Drevan shows no sign of noticing this. However, his charge is staggered as the lasbolts begin to strike flesh, and he is thrown back a step as one bolt in particular strikes him right in the sternum, cutting his scream short. He shakes his head, feeling other bolts graze his limbs and sear small wounds on his body, and once again the Khornate starts to lumber forward. The lasers continue to strike him, and finally his rage dissipates, letting the pain sink in, although it is far too late; the unholy resistance he felt fades as the guards fine tune their aim, and a single bolt rips through the side of his neck, severing his jugular. He gurgles as he starts to fall backwards, his hands moving to his throat as he feels the blood pulse out with his frenzied heartbeat. His vision fades to black even as further blasts strike his flesh, sending rippling waves of heat that scar his skin or burn straight through to cook the flesh within, and he does not register a door opening to his left. Drevan falls, and Westin raises his head cautiously as the fire stops. He sees his former foe laying still in a pool of his own blood and looks up to see the guards moving down the hall in a covering formation, their guns trained on the berserker. When they reach him and find him still, the one on point turns and gestures for another guard to bind him, and they advance on the commissar. Drevan dies. Again. Livin' up to that 27 int Khornate, ain't ya? http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4254768/ Two guards fail fear http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4254771/ Guard captain passes fear test http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4254784/ Four guard shooting semi-auto, all four land 3 hits http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4254791/ 4 shots stopped by refractor field, last hit overloads and final roll is not counted http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4254798/ Dodge fails http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4254799/ dodge fails again after IP http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4254803/ 1d10+4 ¨ [3,4] = (7) - 5 = 2 damage 1d10+4 ¨ [1,4] = (5) - 5 = 0 damage 1d10+4 ¨ [2,4] = (6) - 5 = 1 damage 1d10+4 ¨ [10,4] = (14) - 5 = 9 damage 1d10+4 ¨ [8,4] = (12) - 5 = 7 damage 1d10+4 ¨ [6,4] = (10) - 5 = 5 damage 1d10+4 ¨ [5,4] = (9) - 5 = 4 damage 1d10+4 ¨ [2,4] = (6) - 5 = 1 damage John Dyne fucked around with this message at 23:42 on Oct 12, 2013 |
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Oct 12, 2013 23:37
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Super Nurgle Brothers Butcher and the waddling Malcolm continue to test doors and discuss the people the Butcher has found himself working with, unable to hear the sounds of gunfire over the roaring of the klaxons. The Butcher continues to open doors, speaking of recaf and daemonic possession, while Malcolm tries his best to keep up; despite his immensity, he is not winded by moving, an obvious gift of the lord of decay. As he is regaling his new found friend of the fate teller who divined the future of one of his favorite nurglings, the Butcher opens a door in time to watch Drevan's throat blown open by a blast of red energy. The khornate falls before his eyes, his blood pumping quickly from his body. He turns his head, watching the guards come down the hallway to confirm their kill, and finds that they have not noticed the open door behind them, more intent on the prone Khornate. He also spies the commissar laying on the floor, looking directly at him. Westin widens his eyes and grimaces, nodding towards the Khornate and then his own sword, which he has thrown down on the floor near the door. The guards are pre-occupied with binding Drevan's legs and arms, and only one is keeping watch on the commissar.
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Oct 12, 2013 23:46
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Hospital Hostage The guard captain, struggling in the Butcher's grip, screams for them to open fire. They turn from Drevan and fall back into formation, filling the air with the crack of lasguns and brilliant red spears of light. Malcolm and Butcher feel their armor stop much of the attack, but a few shots actually make it through the Butcher's lesser armor and he feels his skin tingle slightly from the weapons; with enough lucky shots, he's sure they could actually wound him. Malcolm, on the other hand, feels nothing in due part to his necrotic skin and thick armor plates. One of the men pauses to step back from the group, slinging his backpack power source to the ground and taking a knee next to it. While the guards are distracted, Westin pushes himself up quietly and scoops up his sword. He looks down at the prone, battered and fading form of Drevan and shakes his head, before quietly moving up behind the guard on his knee. The man is dialing into a vox unit, and before he can complete his call, Westin's hand covers his mouth and yanks his head back. The blade slices cleanly through exposed flesh and the commissar quickly shoves the man over, keeping the spraying blood from giving his attack away; the sounds of death are muffled by the crack of lasfire. He looks warily at the plague marine and obvious daemonic monstrosity, and the two Nurglites can tell the man is having a momentary crisis of faith. He turns to Drevan and kneels, trying his best to stymie the blood loss. Contest of Champions, CANCELLED After what feels like hours of waiting after the disappearance of Bart and the appearance of their new teammates, the mustachioed man enters the room, twirling his tophat from his head with a practiced flourish. The man is rail thin, has a voluminous coif of black curls, and is deeply tanned, with a moustache that has been waxed to a shine. "I apologize for your wait, my favorite team; much has gone awry for the tournament's plans. It appears a new team, lead by a Lord of Change in physical manifestation, has entered the tournament as a late entry, and I believe the psyker was yours." He gives Veneficus a disappointed look and sighs, brushing his hair back from his face. "The next portion was intended to be a hedonistic exploration of the age old pie eating contest, with a good bit of nurgle trickery involving the implementation of stewed prunes and ipecac and some good old fashioned Khornate wrestling after a dozen pies, but alas, we cannot expect a fair match with an actual DAEMON playing." The man sighs deeply once more; he is visibly crushed about this turn of events. "Damnedable Tzeentchians and their inability to cheat in amazing and amusingly unpredictable ways. It's wonderful, truly, but we prefer the predictable betrayals of Khornates and Slaaneshi; you can set your watch to those, and usually we can have something INTERESTING happen at the time, but I'll be blessed by the Emperor if I could name a time a Tzeentchian has ever just flat up blown up the arena." He claps his hands together and digs into his suit, bringing out a contract. "So here's the deal. The contest is now not just about great deeds of battle, over-indulgence (good job with the recaf, by the way, boys!), endurance, and tactical superiority; it is now about, and I am sorry if this offends, truly, it is about loving killing that rear end in a top hat daemon." He hands the contract to Kayleen, smiling at her. "If you wish to continue to compete, you will need to eliminate your former teammate, or exorcise him as such that the Lord of Change no longer can influence our tournament. The people are antsy to watch a berserker eat pies, and the sooner we can be sure that Tzeentch won't gently caress with it for some stupid, indefinable machination and alteration to some idiotic plan by making the pie crusts less flaky, the better." The man smiles broadly, showing far too many teeth for a normal man, all of which are pristine white and perfectly straight. His brown eyes twinkle, and he claps his hands together once more in front of him. "We expect you to be done within the day, so we can continue tomorrow, but -" He pauses, pressing a finger into his ear and wiggling it a bit. His brow furrows and he chuckles. "On the upside, your Khornate and Nurglites are keeping the population entertained in the medical bay. A plus for your team! Seems like his sworn Commissariat foe is also HELPING him. Oh, this will certainly be a crowd pleaser.." With a flourish, he dons his hat once more and looks expectantly at the group. "So! Any questions, friends? Any fears I can lay to rest, what have you?"
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Oct 20, 2013 05:03
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Changes The mustachioed man clicks his tongue and points at Mordred with a grin. "Got it in one, baby. Your mess, your clean-up. Everyone else gets the day off, and if it ain't fixed by then, they get to hunt the team down that is holding up the tournament." He looks towards Kayleen and tilts his head curiously. "Marines aren't melded into their armor. Least, normal ones aren't; I've seen me a few of the naked good boys and it isn't pretty. But, the Lord of Change is holed up in a city north of here, one devoted to Khorne. Daemon's got a sense of irony, hiding with a bunch of animal headed mutants in a town fanatical to his opposing God. Won't go over well, I think, but hey, we've got cameras there too!"
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Oct 20, 2013 20:33
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Good Thing It's A Hospital Annoyed with the soldiers choosing to fight rather than do anything intelligent, the Butcher holds their captain out before him and drives his sword through him twice, before tossing the man's carcass aside. As he does this, their aim turns completely to him, and he holds his arm up to shield his face from the onslaught of lasers. Mercifully, few pierce his armored hide, and those that make it barely even scald his hide. Behind them, Westin listens to the berserker's message and nods, grabbing his sword and leaping forward. He clamps his hand over one of the soldier's mouths and slices his neck open, the blade sizzling as blood sprays from the wound. The other soldiers notice this, however, and start to turn. It's at this point that the behemoth that is Malcolm trundles down the hall way, raising his shield. The daemonic face on the sheet of steel wrenches its mouth open, and a horrifying steaming stream of putrescence spills forth. Westin barely has time to back away with the dead solder as cover as the bile splatters over the soldiers. He drops the corpse and rolls, hissing in pain as a drop of the toxic goo has seared his flesh; the men who had moments before been shooting now lie as nasty skeletal remains with horrid smelling goop surrounding them. He looks utterly confounded and offended, giving Drevan a glance. "The deserter's dying! Shot in the throat, now he's bleeding out! Do something, you idiots!" Map Time The mustachioed man digs into his coat and produces a map of the local area, handing it off to Kayleen. "There is a road that leads north from this facility, that will head straight to Khorne's Town. You're bound to find the daemon and his lackies there. Brazen, really, but amusing. They SHOULDN'T attack you outright, but, well, it IS Khorne's Town!" He chortles, before turning on his heels. "Good luck to you! You should be able to meet up with your friends by your truck. Wish them luck from me as well! Ciao!" He leaves, his voluminous curls bouncing as he goes. Looking at the map, Kayleen sees that Khorne's Town is shown as little more than a collection of ramshackle tents and lean-tos, which would probably make sense for a village established by Khornate warriors. The road she was advised to take goes straight through the center of town and passes by the bank on the main square, but other roads lead around the city and in through the northern-most side and the westernmost. The westernmost has the fewest people, by the way the map reads, but the northernmost is the one with the most ruins, holding the remains of the town when it was built as a normal town. Feel free to meet back up and make a plan of attack. You don't have to all go in the same way, and any alternatives are open as well; the three roads are just the most obvious to Kayleen right now.
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Nov 4, 2013 03:15
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It is several hours before the group is able to reconnect, and there is a moment of tension when Commissar Bradshaw appears with the limp body of Drevan in his arms. However, the situation is quickly explained by Butcher, who introduces his brother in religion to the group. The massive Malcolm is brought up to speed on the situation, and after some time discussing a strategy, the group begins to move out. Tzeentch's witches and the twin raptors take to the sky, while the remainder of the group (sans Dr. Hugh and Malcolm) pile into Kayleen's truck. Malcolm, due to his immense size, simply sprints alongside the truck, gifted with eternal endurance by his patron god; his lumbering steps spread thunder across the empty plains of the planet, but the travel to Khorne's Town is made without issue. Within an hour of the town, the flyers are forced to the ground as a massive snow storm seems to manifest out of nowhere, destroying visibility and causing enough issues with the various means of flight for it to be dangerous to be airborne. Veneficus and the Butcher taste warp in the air, and suspect the storm is magical in nature, likely conjured to slow and confuse the group. Joe, meanwhile, just thinks it's too drat cold. Similarly, the truck and the motorcycle find it difficult to maintain traction, and before long the two drivers are forced to stop their vehicles before they become embedded in a snowbank. The horizon is taken up by a blazing ember of baleful orange light, and the howling wind carries the smell of blood and steel, and the sounds of combat. The storm had stopped the group a mere mile from Khorne's Town, and many of the group can pick out the shapes of low buildings with flickering lanterns in the windows through the blanketing snow. Drevan feels a deep ache in his bones from the cold; in spite of the healing he has received, he still feels the fatigue of near death. Westin closes his coat against the wind and dips his head down, muttering prayers under his breath to the Emperor; as he does so, those with the capability to manipulate the warp feel an uncomfortable tingle along their skin, as if being intently watched. The commissar seems to notice the discomfort and snorts a chuckle from behind his high, stiff collar. The snow crackles upon the power fields of weapons, sizzling and hissing as the group lumbers forward through the knee deep snow towards the town. God, I am not letting this game die. It's been too good; I've had it on the back burner due to work and just a massive writer's block on how to proceed. Sorry guys! I'm quitting my current job so I'll have much better hours and more time to work on my games.
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Dec 6, 2013 02:03
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Veneficus has had more hands on dealings with daemons than the Butcher, and knew more accurately what could happen should the daemonhost be slain. Should the daemon see his death coming, it is possible that he would vacate the host and attempt to materialize through the weakened veil between the warp and reality. Should the daemon be caught unawares as its host body dies, it would be simply cast back into the warp, and would need to rematerialize within the warp for some time before being able to even influence reality once more. He also knows that, given enough time, the daemon would burn out what is left of their former ally, and destroy all that is left of the psyker's will and soul, leaving a shell for the daemon to permanently infest. At that point, there would be no escape for the daemon save death, since there would no longer be a bridge to the warp through his mind. Hughs fires his pistol towards the distance, but is unable to tell if anything has even happened. With the shot being almost two kilometers, it's most likely the beam petered out before it could even reach its target.
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Dec 7, 2013 00:22
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The drop pod, superheated from its atmospheric descent, hisses and steams ominously in the snow, exposing the ground beneath it as it melts the snow surrounding it. A great drift of the stuff has been kicked up from impact, and the flaming streak it left in the sky is still fading; if Khorne Town was unaware of an approaching threat, they now know one is coming. Regardless, Kayleen begins the march towards the town, and the others fall in. The wind howls about them, kicking flurries of snowflakes into visors and exposed faces. Beneath their boots, the snow crunches and tries to grasp at their boots.. save for Malcolm, who easily waddles through the snow with his immensity. The cold seeps through any armor not environmentally sealed and slices deep, chilling to the bone. Before long Kayleen hears the mutters and yells of people ahead. The language is unknown to her, but when Mordred catches up to her, he recognizes it as a language used by the Bersrkers of Khorne, full of expletives and seventy words for 'blood.' One of the men approaching sounds horribly familiar, but the marine can't pin where he's heard it from. By the way the wind is blowing, it's likely the two parties would meet up within five minutes if both are moving, ten if one is stationary. Giving the surrounding area a quick look, and seeing the snow accumulating on Malcolm as he becomes sedentary once again, Kayleen hatches a plan, one of many: use Malcolm as cover, camouflaging him with the snow so he just seems like a massive drift, and ambush form there. A quick and easy plan, that took mere seconds to even come up with, which may mean it might not be the BEST plan in the world. Regardless, behind the group R'venous struggles to keep up, his/her armor sparkling in a manner most fabulous and making her/him stick out in the dark snowstorm like a sore thumb.
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Dec 7, 2013 03:17
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With everyone working together, Malcolm is turned into a massive snow pile, which everyone but the Slaaneshi hides behind. Not two minutes later, the familiar bronze and red armor of Khorne berserkers appears through the flurries, and they stop in their tracks when they see R'venous. Once s/he sees the Khornates, the Slaaneshi leans over and hits a button on his/her tape deck, and a horrible cacophony begins to play as R'venous begins to dance. His/her movements bounce between fluid and jerky, and there is quite a bit of cavorting involved. To the Khornates, however, the dance seems more like the convulsions of the mentally ill, particularly to the music. They share an odd look amongst themselves, before once more looking to R'venous. The leader steps forward, and Mordred flinches at the familiar sound of his voice; it's the marine he picked a fight with earlier in the day! "Before we slay you, we do offer concern on whether or not you are ill. It would not be a true fight if we were simply facing a mental invalid." A laugh is shared amongst the Khornates before the leader notices the Mark of Slaanesh on R'venous, and the laughter stops. "It is the mark of the shemale! This is no simple idiotic cavorting! It is the very dance of Slaanesh! WE SHALL SPILL THE BLOOD OF THE MEEK AND WEIRD WITH GREAT PLEASURE! BLOOD FOR KHORNE! SKULLS FOR HIS THRONE!" The four berserkers all scream and charge at once, passing directly in front of Malcolm.. You may all act and attack now; you are first in initiative and they will all suffer a -30 surprised penalty. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 05:11 on Dec 22, 2013 |
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Dec 22, 2013 05:02
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I'm going to be out of town for Christmas, so no updates until probably Saturday. I get back on Thursday but it's a five hour drive and I work on Friday morning. We'll press on once I get back.
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Dec 23, 2013 05:18
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Veneficus is the first from behind the mountainous Malcolm, and he strides forth, shimmering with arcane power. The berserkers hardly have time to slow their assault before the very fabric of time and space is rent asunder, forming a grinning, fanged mouth above the battlefield which spews forth a tidal wave of raw chaotic power that washes over the berserkers. The leader of them continues forward unfazed, and behind him, two others similarly ignore the power washing over them, cackling madly and screaming the Blood God's name. A thin shimmer of blood surrounds the three as Khorne's very will protects them from the hated psyker. The fourth berserker, however, does not fare so well. He is lifted off his feet and screams in agony as the mists enter the kinks and joints of his armor, and blue flame sprays from these joints not a moment later. He collapses to the ground and writhes, roaring in pain and frustration as he struggles to get back onto his feet. Veneficus freezes in place and in the blink of an eye, he finds himself staring down at the battlefield before him, time frozen in place. He sees his own body standing, staff held high, and realizes that his very soul has been disconnected from his mortal form. He watches as a thin, translucent figure ascends from the field as well, and as Veneficus does not recgonize the being, he fears he has somehow swapped with one of his hated foes. However, in the next blink, he finds his view is mostly blocked with snow, and he yet towers over the field. His body stands before him, and when he looks down, he sees the grossly distended gut of Malcolm, and he feels horror in the back of his mind; the sorcerer is now within the body of the gigantic Nurglite, and the creature now resides within his own. Malcolm, too, is confused at the change in perspective, and shakes his head as he recgonizes the tint of his armor. Meanwhile, R'venous' is unsure if his/her attempts to turn the foes to his side has worked, since it could be possible that they are still running straight at her/him due to sheer momentum. However, the fact they haven't switched their axes off makes R'venous fairly sure s/he is about to eat said axe. Malcolm and Veneficus has swapped bodies. From the book: The psykers mind is thrown out of his body and into another nearby creature or person. The psyker and a random being (note, this cannot be a daemon, untouchable or other soulless creature) within 50 metres swap consciousness for 10 rounds. This may be allies or enemies. Each creature retains its Weapon Skill, Ballistic Skill, Intelligence, Perception, Willpower and Fellowship during the swap, but all other Characteristics are of the new host body. Malcolm now has access to Veneficus' psychic powers, and Veneficus is without his psychic abilities. Due to Malcolm's untrained ability with psychic powers, should he choose to use them, he will suffer -1 PR and should he peril, he will automatically Body Swap with another target on the field. I will post another update following this one, I'm just giving Werix the heads up that he will need to change his action. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356730/ Veneficus, 11 vs 51, SUCCESS 4 DoS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356733/ Two berserkers immune, one berserker takes full brunt of attack, lead berserker auto-immune due to Bronze Collar. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356735/ Veneficus deals 18 damage, and ignores 2 of the Berserker's Unnatural Toughness. 18 - 0 AP - 6 TB = 12 damage http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356754/ Veneficus Psychic Phenom, 107, PERILZ http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356756/ Veneficus chooses to BODY SWAP. Random roll results in http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356736/ Khard fails his agi test and is on fire. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356737/ R'venous Charm, 65 vs 4, FAILURE John Dyne fucked around with this message at 22:50 on Jan 7, 2014 |
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Jan 7, 2014 22:46
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Ignorant of the magic bullshit happening around him, Drevan launches himself head long into the side of one of the oncoming berserkers, attempting to out scream the other Khornate. Westin is not far behind Drevan, and the two are enough to shove the berserker off balance and break him away from his group. The khornate stumbles, turning to face Drevan and Westin, and the two attack as one with a flurry of blows. Drevan's first strike is parried, but since his blow distracted the faceless Khornate, Westin is able to bury his power blade in a kink in the berserker's armor. With a howl of pain, the berserker drops his chain axe and grabs Westin's wrist, but hisses as his hand burns even through his power armor upon touching the sanctified blade. With this distraction, Drevan is able to swing his sword in a solid arc, decapitating the khornate and causing his body to slump into the snow, which turns pink with his blood. Joe follows the sorcerer Veneficus into the field, and when the Thousand Sons marine taps into the warp, the human psyker piggy backs on his power. She feels a great amount of power course through her as a greater being of change turns a multi-facted and everchanging eye towards the psyker. Pulling a hellish amount of power from beyond reality, Joe suddenly realizes there is no way she can handle all of the power, and futilely attempts to bleed off as much as she can into her singular attack. A multihued beam of energy pierces the air, sending up dervishes of snow as it hurtles across the battlefield, and slams into the gut of one of the remaining Khornates. However, the stench of blood fills the air once more and the Khornate is merely hurtled from his feet back several dozen meters, skidding through the snow and ending up buried in a snowbank, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Joe tries to speaak but suddenly explodes with a cataclysmic overload of power, melting snow for ten meters around her. Most of those around her are able to duck the shockwave or merely soldier through it, but once the wave is gone, Joe hovers in the air, as naked as the day she was born, before collapsing into a smoking heap on the now scorched earth. She is dazed, and can no longer taste the power of the beyond. Mordred hefts his bike much like he would a bazooka and takes aim at the berserker who, before, humiliated him. Silently, he depressed the trigger, and he jerks back from the recoil of the attack as a shimmering, miniature blue sun soars into his rival. There is an explosion, and Herod is thrown back off of his feet, cursing loudly as he tumbles. He seems wounded, but is able to quickly scramble back to his feet, hefting his axe once more and glaring at Mordred. "YOU WHELP! And here I had thought you had learned your place beneath my boot! Ha!" As this happens, Hughes takes aim at the lead berserker and pulls the trigger... but the daemon within, recognizing the might of the Khornate, refuses to fire. Joe is now armorless and has no equipment, and is naked on the ground with no access to psychic powers. Malcolm in Veneficus is now up, which means Butcher and Kayleen may change their actions based on what has happened on the battlefield thus far. If Kayleen is still delaying until after Herod, then that's fine; the berserkers that still live will act after Buthcer. Veneficus gains 2 infamy for his glorifying deed to Tzeentch, and Joe gains 1 infamy for obtaining so much power. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356784/ Joe, 40 vs 95, SUCCESS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356790/ 74 damage there is no reason to math out TB he dead http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356793/ NOPE BERSERKER IS IMMUNE http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356794/ Joe's Phenom Roll, 99, PERILZ http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356795/ Cataclysmic Blast http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356800/ Blast deals 11 damage, pen 5; Drevan and Herod are immune. All of the berserkers soak the damage; you may make dodge rolls (except Xun) to avoid the damage, or simply soak it since most of you have a shitton of TB/AP. All of Joe's equipment is destroyed and she is naked and smoking on the ground, and cannot use powers for 1 hour. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356812/ Mordred, 33 vs 98, HIT http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356816/ Mordred deals 23 damage 23 - 11 TB - 0 AP (10 AP - 12 Pen) = 12 damage http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4356819/ Hughes rolls a 100, insert WAH WAH WAHH noise. Khard - 8/20 Wounds, 5 TB + 3 U.Tb, 8 AP, ON FIRE Prat - DEAD Loquat - 20/20, 6 TB + 3 U.TB, 8 AP Herod - 23/120 7 TB + 4.U. TB, 10 AP John Dyne fucked around with this message at 23:25 on Jan 7, 2014 |
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Jan 7, 2014 23:20
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Veneficus' buddy shudders as Malcolm's consciousness comes to bear, and the emotions that cross the sorcerer's face are hidden by the helmet he wears. After a moment, there is a guttural cry from under the helmet and Malcolm grips the sorcerer's head within his hands, feeling the power pounding behind his temples. In a panic and unsure of what to do, the simple warrior thrusts his hands out, emitting a multitude of spheres of raw arcane energy at the marine charging R'venous. Once more, Khorne protects his own, but as the shimmering field of blood fades, the body of Veneficus slumps once more. Malcolm blinks, and when his eyes open, he finds himself staring at the ever closing form of R'venous. Out of surprise, he throws his hands up and his feet tangle together, and the two tumble down together, with Malcolm trying to figure out what the loving hell is going on. Meanwhile, Veneficus' body struggles to its feet, and a multitude of curses come from his mouth. He begins to advance on R'venous with sword in hand, but the mind of the sorcerer is open to the warp, and the Khornate which was once so blessed by the Blood God is fully exposed to the horrors that lie in the beyond. Loquat goes stiff, feeling the touch of Tzeentch caress his mind, and he suddenly crumples, crying and sobbing as he grabs his head and begs it all to stop. As this all goes on behind him, Butcher slams his shoulder into Herod as the massive berserker gains his feet, and the two skid in the snow. The nurglite swings in a frenzy, and the berserker does what he can to swat away the force blade, but in doing so leaves himself open for a single strike, which draws blood from Herod. The berserker laughs at this and pulls away, twirling his massive chain blade. "Idiot plagueling, Blood flows only for Khorne! You have only blessed me in his eyes, and now I shall have your rotting skull for his throne!" Herod surges forward, swinging the massive blade with all of his might and fury. Butcher, however, retains the calm inherent to Nurgle's chosen, and even though his sword is smaller, the skill behind it is focused. He thrusts his sword against the wide blade of Herod to divert his swings, and effortlessly avoids all of the berserker's wild swings. Herod steps back with a snort, holding his blade low. "Not bad, for a Nurgling." As he speaks, his underling, Khard, struggles to his feet and makes a run for the combat, drawing twin chianswords, flame trailing from his body as he cackles manically. Kayleen takes careful aim, waiting until Butcher has disengaged from Herod, and opens fire. The flashes of green get Herod's attention and he turns, catching a blast right to the gut. He exhales sharply and staggers, grabbing at his stomach and looking up in anger. Seeing Herod in danger, Khard lunges forward, taking the next blast for his leader, and he hits the ground hard, rolling to a stop. He continues to burn as he comes to a stop, and he lay still. Stubbornly, the head berserker still stands even as the others close in, and he laughs heartily, struggling to stand up straight. "Come then! Finish me, if you can! Stain this ground with my blood! I have fought masterfully and Khorne will reward me for the mountain of skulls I have built and the torrents of blood that flow by my blade!" He thumps his bare chest and grins, though it is obvious he is shaky on his legs. Combat is pretty much over. Loquat is in Veneficus' body, Veneficus is in Malcolm's body, and Malcolm is in Loquat's body. Khard is stunned for 10 rounds, Herod has 4 wounds left and goes last in combat.. it's done. We'll have every return to their correct bodies after this combat, and Loquat may become an ally because of this, so he isn't going to be killed. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362843/ Veneficus manifest Doombolt http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362845/ Bersrker resists http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362847/ PERILS, Malcolm automatically jumps bodies. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362853/ Berserker DOES NOT RESIST  Veneficus is still in Malcolm's body, but now Loquat is in Veneficus' body and Malcolm is in Loquat's. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362851/ Butcher charges, 93 vs 94, one hit. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362874/ No force damage. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362858/ Butcher deals 24 damage. 24 - 11 TB = 13 Khard stands and sprints towards the fighting. Loquat is stunned and weeping like a baby. Malcolm runs into R'venous and the two tangle up and fall down with no damage. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362860/ Herod Lightning Attack, 11 vs 70, 6 HITS http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362864/ Butcher PARRIES EVERY SINGLE HIT http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362883/ Kayleen lands two hits http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362885/ 21 and 20, and a ZF! 21 - 5 (10 AP - 5 Pen) - 11 = 6 20 - 3 (8 AP - 5 Pen) - 8 = 9 Herod is stunned. Khard is thrown back onto his back and is stunned, and would be on fire if he weren't already on fire. Herod suffers a ZF of 1, and Khard suffers a crit of 6. Combat is essentially over at this point, as Herod is hilariously outnumbered, Loquat is useless, and Khard is out cold. Khard - -1/20 Wounds, 5 TB + 3 U.Tb, 8 AP, ON FIRE Prat - DEAD Loquat - IN VENEFICUS' BODY AND FREAKING THE gently caress OUT Herod - 4/120 7 TB + 4.U. TB, 10 AP
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Jan 12, 2014 04:24
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Mordred's jetpack flares into life as he lunges forward, even as Veneficus raises Malcolm's shield. The khornate swings his motorcycle for the fences and the vehicle turned melee weapon catches Herod in the chest, wrapping the berserker around the front of the bike. When the swing ends, Herod's limp body sails through the air and lands, shoulders first, in the snow, where he tumbles briefly and ends up face down and motionless. The stream sprayed from Malcolm's shield smothers the fire of the last living Khornate, who shudders as the toxins of the stream enter his body. Malcolm, even from the berserker's body he currently inhabits, knows that the man likely won't be waking up. As the group regains their feet and takes tally of who is who and where, they noticed the slumped body of Veneficus still mildly convulsing; as they watch, the body spirals slowly into the air, uplifted by a ghastly ethereal hand. Green and purple light flows from Veneficus' eyes, mouth, and nose as his body goes rigid, and a fading scream is heard as a curling red mist is expulsed from the sorcerer's body. The mist hangs in the air until the wind picks up, dissipating it. One by one, the heretics return to their rightful bodies. Malcolm and Veneficus find themselves back in their rightful bodies, and the sorcerer feels that, in some way, the berserker that inhabited him had died; he looks to the stirring form in the bronze and red armor, and can feel that the soul inhabiting it is not the one that he had in his body before. Tzeentch has put a plan into motion this day, and the soul before them has apparently been given a second chance. Westin ignores Drevan's ranting, pulling his great coat off and draping it over the shoulders of Joe. He gives the human Khornate a nasty grin. "Yeah, well, if it were a single entity like the Emperor it'd protect all, now wouldn't it? I'm protected and I think psykers are bullshit, but you don't see me slavering for a god that's gonna everything I've done right at the very end." He nods towards the battered form of Herod. "Son of a bitch had a collar, too, and more muscle than an ogryn. Didn't do jack poo poo for him, did it? Now quit loving preaching and get their skivvies, my coat's not gonna do the girl much good if the wind kicks up." Mandozer is now in the body of Loquat.
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Jan 12, 2014 22:20
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Kayleen moves from body to body, meticulously removing what she believes to be geneseed with great care, before simply shoving them into a burlap sack she finds on the side of the road. None of the marines with her have actually SEEN geneseed, so they cannot verify she picked up the correct organ, but since it looks nothing like the other squishy bits she ignored or tossed aside, she's confident she obtained the correct glands. Once more the group trudges onwards, leaving the bodies behind to freeze in the snow. Hellbringer shows the way back to Khorne town, pointing out a shortcut that reduces the travel town to a mere hour, conveniently enough time for Joe to once again grok her connection to the warp. Upon cresting the final hill, the group looks on as a massive cyclone of snow hovers above the town, sending the miserable cold and snow outwards away from the town while leaving the village itself alone. Khornetown is not a very impressive place; it is primarily tents and easily reassembled shacks, perfect for the worshippers of a god that is prone to random and incomprehensible acts of anger and violence. However, perched in the center of town is an ornate looking construction of blue steel and gold, the spire of which emits scintillating crackles of energy that feed into the whirling vortex above the town. Currently, it is being wailed upon by a group of no less than four hundred Khornates, and those with magnifying goggles or telescopic lenses can see most of them batter the building with whatever implements lie about; no one seems to have an actual weapon. Westin, being one of the few with a pair of magnoculars, lowers the device and looks incredulously at the group. "Are they beating the bloody tower with folding chairs and hurling stones at it? What sort of idiotic siege is this?" Motion below draws his attention back, and the four beastly headed minions from before emerge higher up on the structure, now adorned in ornate blue and gold armor and wielding mighty, arcane looking weaponry. They leap from the tower and land in the midst of the Khornates, and in short order begin systematically massacring the sieging Khornates. Most of them stand to fight, but the cowardly and the wise turn and run when they realize they are outmatched. As the carnage ends, the four brothers return to the tower and begin to celebrate, high fiving each other and laughing as they taunt and mock the khornates who have returned to their shacks.
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Jan 30, 2014 05:29
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The Hellbringer pauses, looking out into the field. The hovel he had been residing in, one saved for those central to Khornetown and thus the mightiest, is now taken over completely by the ensorcelled tower, and he realizes wading into a crowd four-hundred strong in his basic power armor and wielding his basic chain axe might not let him last long enough to scale the tower and reclaim his goods. He will have to be satisfied with the equipment he now has, until the tower is conquered or brought down.
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Feb 5, 2014 17:47
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The Siege Drevan springs forth from the snowy hill, raising his weapon in a battle cry as he sprints towards the tower and the mutated Tzeentchian honor guard. He holds his footing on the snow, puffs of it kicking up behind him as he closes the distance; the mob of khornates presses in with him, and he watches as a single swing of the bull-headed one's hammer sends multiple Khornates flying. A single berserker, clad in only bronze chains crossing over his chest and a loin cloth, climbs atop a squat building and screams, taking a flying leap at the minotaur with his axes held high. Before the berserker can land his blows, a lion-headed mutant shoulders through the crowd and thrusts his spear upwards, impaling the berserker. He hefts the lance backwards and swings it, slinging the body free and taking up a position next to his brother. The berserker slams into another khornate and knocks him down, the two tumbling through the snow. At this rate, the khornates won't last much longer against the mutants. Renoir grins, turning and raising his hand to high-five his bull-headed brother, but the celebration is cut short as a half-naked, heavily scarred man bursts through the crowd around them, leaping into the air while screaming bloody murder. Drevan drives his chainsword directly into Munch's face, the motor chugging as it gets caught in muscle and sinew; he throws his arm around the minotaur's neck and wrenches his blade free, screaming as he brings it down on the minotaur's head once before, swiping it against his arm, and driving it into the thick armor on his chest. Renoir snaps back to life and swats Drevan away, and the renegade catches himself, landing on his feet. Munch screams wordlessly in agony as he holds his hands to the bloody ruin of his face; he staggers and slumps, his hammer falling to the ground as he whimpers and curls. Renoir looks aghast at his fallen brother, gripping his lance. "Where the hell did you come from? You weren't in Khornetown when we got here!" The lion, obviously blinded by rage, swings wildly at Drevan but the khornate merely weaves away from the swings. From around the side, Drevan can hear the cries of battle as the other two mutants continue to do battle against the rest of the horde; they apparently haven't noticed Drevan. Drevan, for once, survives a round of combat! He deals a nice chunk of damage to Munch and stuns him for 3 rounds, while also forcing him to suffer blood loss (which may instantly kill him, nice.) Renoir misses his attack. [23:46] <Dyne> 1d100 Drevan Charge vs 110 [23:46] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 1d100: 55 [1d100=55] [23:47] <Dyne> 3#1d10+21 Drevan Damage for Swing 1 [23:47] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 3#1d10+21: 23 [1d10=2], 31 [1d10=10], 31 [1d10=10] [23:47] <Dyne> 1d100 ZH Confirmation [23:47] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 1d100: 61 [1d100=61] [23:48] <Dyne> 1d5 ZH Damage [23:48] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 1d5: 3 [1d5=3] [23:57] <Dyne> 3#1d10+21 Swing 2 [23:57] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 3#1d10+21: 22 [1d10=1], 23 [1d10=2], 27 [1d10=6] [23:57] <Dyne> 3#1d10+21 Swing 3 [23:57] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 3#1d10+21: 31 [1d10=10], 23 [1d10=2], 29 [1d10=8] [23:57] <Dyne> 1d100 ZH 2 [23:57] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 1d100: 14 [1d100=14] [23:57] <Dyne> 1d5 ZH 2 Damage [23:57] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 1d5: 2 [1d5=2] [23:58] <Dyne> 3#1d10+21 Swing 4 [23:58] <Hashutbot> Dyne, 3#1d10+21: 29 [1d10=8], 30 [1d10=9], 28 [1d10=7] [00:03] <Dyne> 1d100 vs 80 Renoir Attack [00:03] <Hashutbot> Dyne, vs 80: 97 [1d100=97] 31 - 12 TB = 19 damage 27 - 12 TB = 15 damage 31 - 12 TB - 6 AP (10 - 4 Pen) = 13 damage 30 - 12 TB - 6 AP (10 - 4 Pen) = 12 damage Renoir (Lion)- 195/95 AP 10 TB 10 1d10+16 E, Pen 8, Balanced, Concussive (1), Power Field, WS 80 Gauguin (Bird) - 165/65 AP 10 TB 8 1d10+12 E, Balanced, Concussive (2), Flame, Proven (3), WS 55 Munch (Bull) - 151/210 AP 10 TB 12 2d10+20 I, Pen 8, Balanced, Felling (4), WS 70 Degas (Ox Skull) - 180/80 AP 10 TB 10 1d10+10, Pen 4, Balanced, Flexible, Power Field, Dual-Wield, 65 WS The Best Wrought Plans The Hellbringer grabs Kayleen by her belt and hefts her, taking two powerful strides before whipping her around and hurling her into the air like a football*; he even gets a nice spiral to the throw. Kayleen grips the democharge tightly, thankful it's set to be explode by vox, and keeps her eyes on the tower to try to keep her stomach down. Unfortunately, it doesn't go well on that end, and she barfs up what may well be nothing more than pixels and shredded wiring, It slowly dawns on her that the tower before her has no windows for her to simply sail through, and this is likely to not end very well. Westin winces as he watches the robotic girl slam bodily into the tower, even though her form is much smaller from the distance. "gently caress me running, if this is what Khorne gets you I am loving thankful I'm following the Emperor." He shakes his head, and Kayleen falls from the wall and lands in a snow drift, unmoving. "We should probably go check on her.." He stands, drawing his sword and strolling down towards the field of battle; before him, the khornates part, either sensing one of their own or feeling the Emperor's wrath that rolls off of him. Kayleen is unconscious for 3 rounds and considered helpless. Since it would be a dick move to cause any damage from this, she takes 0 damage. *handegg John Dyne fucked around with this message at 19:12 on Feb 16, 2014 |
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Feb 16, 2014 07:18
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