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Old Hatreds (Chaos IC Thread)

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by Vlayden, Jan 9, 2017.

  1. Akerath Vlayden Well-Known Member

    @Colapse - Xorgal, the Rampager
    @TuskatheDaemonKilla - Konstantin & Brutus, the Datasmith
    @Jammysod - Fortissimus, the Dark Champion
    @GobMaw_HellSmasha - Rotticus, Helbrute of the Death Guard
    @Maleth - Therena Vastra, Looter of the Mechanicum
    @High_Adept_Zeth - Lanius, the Silver Baron
    @dx144 - Solithar, the Thieving Apothecary
    @Vulpas - Sareth Lumen, the Weaponsman
    @Casavay - Stakh, the Steel Shaman
    @BruticusTheGoreHound - Forrick, the False
    @Azathoth - Ishmael, the Cultmaster

    The trip towards Krexis Capital was an arduous one - many Chaos ships all being brought towards a darker, nearby world known simply as 'Scarabis'. There was little in the way of knowledge on its history, though even as the numerous dozens of warships hovered overhead, all could see the literal Chaos underneath. It was almost industrial enough to be considered a forgeworld, were it not for the gargantuan flames and the large patches of barren wasteland between each 'city' of factories.

    Such a thing was irrelevant, however; upon each of these ships came an emissary. A slender, hooded figure with a voice that sounded more like wind than any real person, each of them being offered a slip of paper and told to get a shuttle from the Hangar, to leave to a Frigate known as "Sun's Fury". This would be their own ticket to the true Capital, to meet alongside the numerous Chaos Lords that were within.

    @GobMaw_HellSmasha - The Helbrute however, had to be... Coaxed, into a large adamantium box, sealed and warded to keep the rot within. 'A formality,' the emissary had said, ignoring the diseases that could kill a grown man in seconds. 'Show them that you aren't a mindless monster, and let them cage you. The peoples below do not all see how one as... Strong, as powerful and joyous as you, with Father Nurgle's gifts, could still remain sane. Prove them wrong, and allow them this small comfort.'

    From within the Frigate, it seems that each of the numerous Lords that came to pledge their allegiance to the Vindicators, none were given as much privilege as those given such a slip of paper; once given to the guards upon entering the Frigate, all were given their very own room (With the exception of Rotticus, from which he would have to endure being within the 'cage'.) Such rooms were all found quite close to the Bridge's upper sections.
    At the end of the pristine hallway were two Space Marines in shined, Iron power armour with golden trimming and their left legs given a black-and-yellow colouration akin to that of the Iron Warriors. Seems as though the warband itself at least originated from that Legion..
    Both equipped with combi-meltas, as well. They didn't seem so much there to keep watch over them, as much as.... Protect them.

    The other Chaos lords, in their arrogance, naturally were quite displeased with seeing such 'inferior' mortals take their place to the Capital. Though the rooms themselves were quite... Luxurious.

    Each couldn't quite be considered a 'room' per se, as much as in truth be entire apartments - comfortable and large. If anything, there was practically no real sign that this was a Chaos ship, aside from the Eight-pointed Stars, and Iron Warriors symbols every now & then; oddly pristine, uniformed crewmen and Renegade Marines who weren't slaughtering Cultists when displeased.

    If anything, the sole thing that seemed to differentiate the Vindicators from Loyalists, was how they didn't worship the Emperor. They weren't Chaos-worshipping to a dangerous extent, nor infighting like a pack of rabid dogs.

    There was a single message that they all got, however; it was clear that what they were to do was their own responsibility, but...
    Meet upon the Bridge upon noon.
    The Ship-time itself was at 10:54. A little over an hour to themselves.
  2. dx144 dx144 Well-Known Member

    Meeting the emissary was something that reeked of corruption, speaking in whispers grated at Solithar's nerves but out of necessity he held back from eviscerating the emissary and decorating the room with a Nostroman hand. Although he never was the best at skinning, could only keep them alive for a few hours or a day at most before they died, always overlooked or was too busy to practice as his duties called him elsewhere, least that kept him alive for his value to the Legion.

    The ship was odd, unlike even Night Lord vessel Solithar had been aboard this was brightly lit which irritated him for a start but at least there wasn't the constant droning of cultists and madmen like in other Vessels he'd been... Invited onto before. The name of the vessel did pluck his eyebrow at though, if it was just a coincidence or some fact to jest at Solithar was beyond him but the Sun's Fury would do nothing to what the endless could bring.

    For the most part Solithar hated these times, he preferred to be looking over those wounded seeing the wounds and laughing at how lucky or well unlucky they were to be in his workshop or if he was just able to watch over his Legion's pure Gene-Seed unlike most other mongrel dogs who had tainted their Primarch's gene legacy.

    Trying to deal with the wait the first thing Solithar took upon himself was to try and remove the lighting from his room, at least he'd be granted that peace but after being unable to find a switch or command to so he took it upon himself to forcibly remove them. Looking at his chronometer and saw there was still an hour of waiting he proceed to look upon the world they were going to descent to eventually, it was magnified by the viewing ports, it only just dawned on Solithar it had been some time since he'd stepped foot on a world that was made for industry in some time.

    There was little to do other than prepare for the meeting and so Solithar checked over his wargear again making sure that his armour was in a suitable condition and that everything was in working order.
  3. Ascendant Azathoth Well-Known Member

    Ishmael lay on the bed of his room and removed his mask. The black haired, pale figure grinned to himself. The luxury of the room seemed satisfactory for now, although he was filled with anticipation for the trials. He was itching for a chance to prove himself.

    Ishmael bathed quickly and returned to the bed. He hoped their was a significant enough following of Slaanesh aboard. They were good company, though he himself favored the Great Sorcerer.

    This will be a fun campaign. Ishmael thought to himself. It's been too long since I've killed someone.
  4. Rotticus wasn't exactly pleased with his current state. Trapped in an accursed-and even worse, sterilized- metal box. Unable to move due to the claustrophobic conditions of his container, unable to spread the Plaguefather's loving embrace to others due to the wards placed on his prison. Despite there being the company of an emissary near by, Rotticus was alone in his torment. The metal walls that sealed him inside seemed to be slowly closing around him, there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could do
    but scream.

    But Rotticus did not scream.

    Unlike the usual Khornate who would be enraged by his inability to rip his foes apart with their bare hands and shout about spilling everyone's blood; or the Slaaneshi that would be infuriated with never being able to seek their sick pleasures ever again and scream about subjugating everyone to their depravity once they were free; or the Tzeentchian that would be outraged at being trapped in a metal shell, with no means of changing their fate, with no hope of escaping their prison and would yell about how this was all going according to plan anyway...

    Rotticus did not scream.

    For despite the state he was in, despite the cage he was placed in, despite his inability to do much of anything, he knew he was loved. Papa Nurgle has blessed him to the point where his body eventually melted away, but those blessings were gifts of affection, and he was thankful for each and everyone of them. He knew he had family. Nurgle's children would keep him from being lonely, the little adorable boils would keep him sane. He knew he wasn't alone. His brothers of the Death Guard are there for him as well. So unlike the madness of the Khornate, the selfishness of the Slaaneshi, and the indecisiveness of the Tzeentchian, Rotticus, through his despair, simply accepted his fate, and felt better for it. For Papa Nurgle still loved him, and he knew that'd never change.

    "Indeed, I intend to show the others I am not as mindless as they would initially believe" the voice of Rotticus bellowed from his sarcophagus, "then again, my mind has been gifted with tumors, maggots, and rot. So maybe, in a literal sense, they're not too far off from the truth." Rotticus then began laughing, his joyous laughter echoing throughout his enclosed shell as well as the room itself. "It was a joke my friend, if the others need me like this to feel comfortable around me then I shall allow this...condition."

    "However, I hope they all understand I may be late to this meeting" he chuckled again, "can't really move myself all too well without any legs, you know" And so Rotticus laughed joyfully, the bellowing sound echoing throughout the room once more. In a position such as he, where many would scream and shout, where many would curse and yell, where others would breakdown and cry...

    He laughed.
  5. Much time had passed since the days when Forrick Kooru had managed to leave the beautiful, green skies of his homeworld. Many days spent in transit from one world to the next, living to see different environments, people, and ways of life, the multitude of experience that came from one who traveled across this vast, chaotic galaxy. And yet, in all this time, Kooru had found an almost universal constant, a pattern that he followed with each voyage. He was always hungry at the end of a long trip.

    With this in mind, Kooru would reach into his pocket, fingers grasping around until they found what he was looking for, pulling out a small item wrapped in some cloth. Peeling away the fabric, he reveal a hunk of raw meat, already turning, it's scent growing more foul by the second, and all to appetizing for the man who beheld it. He'd pop it up into his maw, and chew happily on the treat, the palate of tastes being a favored treat of his, giving thanks once again to the now deceased Caroch Arthist. He may not have been easy to kill, but the reward was almost more than enough to warrant the attempt. Swallowing his snack, Kooru would let out a happy sigh, patting his stomach with a gloved hand, before looking about him, as if for the first time.

    The room was extravagant by the standards of the former farmer, well furnished, and designed with a flair that he'd never seen back on his homeworld. It's bed was comfortable, it's supplies well stocked, and it was all his to use while he waited for his time to come.

    Well, not exactly his.....

    Reaching into his pocket, Kooru held up a small data slate, bearing upon it the means by which he'd found himself among the company of the Vindicators. The invitation displayed it's message entirely, along with a signal of acknowledgement, a finger print scan done by the late Arthist himself, when he'd received their auspicious opportunity. Such a shame for the man, that he'd found it prudent to go and brag about this development, celebrating a job before it had even been done, before it had even been properly taken. Kooru recalled how he died, his fingers wrapping around the man's throat, being beaten back, for let it not be said that Arthist was not a fighter worthy of his invitation. In the end, even with all the alcohol in his system, the man only went down when Kooru managed to break open his skull with a chair, consequently breaking the furniture in the process. With the man slain, it had been a simple matter to take his place, grabbing the data slate, and the invitation itself. Even when the emissary had demanded a further check to see if he had the right man, Kooru had been ready, his newly grafted fingertips had done their job well enough.

    And now, he was here, the result of some great struggle on his own part, all this effort bringing him closer to meeting with this warband of fallen angels. Swiftly, Kooru would fall to his knees, bringing his hands up, in prayer, as he gave thanks to the Solar King, for guiding him here. He'd whisper praise for the saviour of his world, casting off wishes that one day, he might repay this kindness he'd visited upon his people personally. Opening up his now teary eyes, Kooru would smile, before reaching over to grab his rebreather, fitting it back over his face, followed swiftly by his metal mask. Soon, he would go to meet his hosts, and for that Kooru would need to be strong, if he wished to earn their favour, and perhaps, a chance to find his deity. The man didn't know what waited for him, what tests he'd need to face, but it mattered little, for he would endure them all, to see his mission complete. With that, he'd check his gear once more, stowing ammunition, looking over his assault shotgun, making sure he had all his things where he needed them.

    If this was the path to heaven, then he'd walk it, no matter those who stood in his way.
  6. In one of the rooms a figure covered in the red robes of that once held the markings of the Mechanicus sat on the floor typing away onto data slates with uncountable mechanical limbs. Next to him a giant automata was seated on the floor in a similar manner with a a data spike placed into a port on it's lower back. A father trying to teach his son, the robed one was running programs he had made himself in an attempt to give the machine he saw as his son more freedom. It was a constant process with the father writing code by hand and transferring it over to his son in hopes that one day he could fill in the gap made by the machine's limited cognitive abilities.

    He and his son had been brought on this ship with the promise of access to much more advanced technology he would ever find on the pitiful rock he found himself on before. He knew to get what he wanted he would need to tread carefully and prove himself useful to these vindicators. Rouge Astartes that escaped the grasp of the Imperium and do as they wish even worshiping the chaos gods to some extent. Thankfully they seemed to be reasonable enough but knowing their kind he most likely has to provide some kind of service to them. Granted preforming maintenance and building items is a beloved passion of his and he did not mind the idea of spending untold amounts of time simply tinkering and and creating new things. However there was no telling what they actually wanted from him.

    Irregardless he had an hour before he must move to the bridge and while he would much rather spend that hour working on his son's cognitive functions he must also inspect the vessel he was ridding on. He would only trust his own opinion and it was also important to be familiar with his surroundings. As such he unplugged his data spike from his son and resumed wireless communication ordering it to stand an follow him. He rose to his feet being supported by the countless mechadendrites making him appear far taller than he actually was and moved to the door that thankfully was large enough for his son to move in and out of. Once he managed to guide his son out of the room without him smashing something on accident he simple picked a direction and started walking not caring where he would end up.
  7. High Adept Zeth High_Adept_Zeth Arkhona Vanguard

    Lanius was already lounging upon one of many decks of Sun`s Fury,earning his lavish housing there with the blood and skulls of his own battle-brothers, slaves and war-spoils, so the arrival of the ghastly emissary bore no surprise to the perfect warrior.

    His chambers were vibrantly decorated, in the central room a giant platform rose, upon which one can only presume that it was a bed.Under the incredibly warm and comfortable fur-blankets, Lanius emerged, his head sticking out from under the sheats and coverings of the bed.There was considerable motion beneath the coverings.

    Looking at the frail emissary, Lanius cocked his head at an angle as to better see him from his upside-down position.With a grimace of utter horror, knowing that his sessions ended, his beautiful face shifted to that of delight and boyish tease, a playful grin appearing at the end of his lips as his violet eyes twinkled at the promises of ecstasies to be had.

    "Emissary...are you don't want to join us?" Lanius teased as few naked bodies crawled out from the bed, noticing that Lanius was actually having a conversation with somebody.Women, men and creatures of androgynous characteristics all tiny compared to the Silver Baron, some of them beautiful and voluptuous others quite far in the age, worked hard by their relentless tasks aboard the ship yet from the language of their frail bodies and passionate glances when they would gaze upon their Lord, spoke of passion that was not yet extinguished.

    The ghastly figure screwed its head sideways, as if in wonder or perhaps curiosity - Lanius could not tell beneath the darkness of its cowl.Then suddenly the figure vanished, leaving the pale Astartes with utter sense of rejection and longing.

    The message even if not uttered, was perfectly clear before him.It was time.

    Casting his coverings and approaching his multitude of admirers,adorers and lovers he gave them each equal degree of attention, as the group of mortals already busied themselves with more...carnal pleasures among themselves.With a smile, Lanius passed them by on his way to the armory, knowing that he made them happy and in their happiness they made him so and thus pleased the Great Princess.

    As the mono-task servitors donned his battle-plate across his oiled body, Lanius recalled from his memory, each and every individual he found across the Sun`s Fury, either scrubbing the decks, tending to the machinery or some other myriad of tasks that are to be done upon leviathan constructions that are the human starships.It was between a mix of curiosity, laxity of the moment and impulsiveness that had each time a deciding factor in picking such individuals from the throng.

    Each mortal was rather taken aback at first, simply by mere interaction with an Astartes.But lover`s care and human tenderness usually persuaded them as to otherwise.They are all part now of his family, dedicated at worshiping him for all the pleasures he has given them.

    Now, cast in the splendor of his battle-attire, Lanius made way to the bridge, where he presumed was most probably summoned.The mere possibility of new experiences and new sights exhilarated him!
  8. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    Xorgal spent the down time in solitude of his own room. He sat down in the center of it, eyes opened and staring at the wall in front. He rarely slept for when he did, his dreams were hardly better than the reality of his own life. Broken pieces of furniture lied all around him, chairs, beds and tables destroyed during uncontrollable bursts of rage he didn't even remember having. He clenched and released the grip his fingers were forcing upon the shaft of his double-handed axe simultaneously, closing them as much as he could before he could feel the pain of breaking, before simply letting it go and going at it once again.

    He kept his mind focused like that, focused on hurting himself and thus keeping his sanity in check for a while longer. He also kept a close look at the stopwatch, it informing him that he had to spend a little bit over an hour here before moving out to meet the leaders of this warband or whatever else they had in store for him.

    Therefore, the World Eater just kept sitting in there, eyes open and hands clenched. He could only keep the Nails like this for a while before having to let it go and drown himself in the blissful red oblivion once again.
  9. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    Sareth arrived aboard the ship that was to be her current place of stay aboard the sun fury, A bit creeped out by the odd being who had given her a invitation to here and by the every so often weird fellow, The astarte that she had seen looked quite serious on what they did and she always made a note to stay on there good sides. Arriving to her room she found she had a about a hour to herself. "Well now time to see if I truly am alone." Sareth said to what she thought herself.

    Being semi paranoid as she was she decided to first check her room for any bugs or cameras that could be spying on her, after satisfying her own curiosity and gaining a somewhat trust of her area she decided to unpack several things she had in her bags being her weapons, cloths and food and drink she had brought with her.

    going over for a quick shower she began to get ready early for the meeting on the bridge at noon after showering putting on a new set of cloths and putting back on her black carapace armor before deciding to explore the Sun fury Taking a a drink out of a bottle of amseac before putting her pack, Sareth put her hot shot pistol on her belt before going out deciding to make sure she was at least armed before going out to see what was around the bridge area.

    As Sarteth began taking her steps out into the hall each of her own metallic feet causing a slightly larger foot step to sound she noticed what she thought heard to be a combination of sounds of a struggle, large metallic footsteps and others coming into the hall beside her. keeping a eye out she made sure to look out for anyone else in the halls.
  10. Saraph Midas Casavay Well-Known Member

    Stakh had never truly cared for the pirates - they were a means to leave the Warherd, and nothing more. Yes, the Dark Gods had sent them, but she felt no loyalty to this unhorned pack of scavengers. Within moments of recieving the invitation, she knew that her divine patrons were still guiding her every hooved step; the Steel-Shaman gathered her few belongings and left the crew without speaking another word.

    Soon thereafter, she found herself escorted by metal-clad beings that seemed built like Minotaurs (at first, she assumed them to be mechanical; seeing one sans helmet impressed her - not that she would admit it), walking through hallways that surrounded her with the noise of machinery, and admiring the black vastness that surrounded them. Her hatred for those not of her kind was tempered by the amazement she felt being upon a vessel such as this one, and the knowledge of this all being part of the Dark Gods' plan - they would not steer her false, and while she preferred being around her fellow Gors, they did lack the direction she'd long since known destruction of the Imperium required. And so, Stakh, in spite of her feral appearance, remained calm, assured that this was destiny in the process of manifesting. It helped that, being away from a Herd for quite a while now, her intellect had not been inhibited by the intoxicating, infectious primal rage of the other Beastmen.

    At the end of their trip, a confused Gave was standing in the middle of quarters that rivalled those of human rulers. It far outstripped any room she had ever seen before in her life in size, luxury, and the sheer excess of it. Unceremoniously, the horned one let her massive form collapse onto the soft, feathery bed and felt the mattress beneath her work hard to transform the impact. Stakh groaned loudly, stretching her powerful arms and warped caprine legs as she rolled onto her back and basked in the sheer comfort of it; her face, meanwhile, quickly turned into one expressing displeasure. She'd fought in the name of Chaos, and for the downfall of humanity. Most of her kin would reject this place, and thrash the bed instead of sleeping in it. It was a sign that she did not want to interpret - the gift of a profound mind came with its curses. Luckily, a message interrupted her thoughts and provided a distraction. But from her own reckoning, if she left now, she would be much too early, and one thing the Gave hated was waiting. The dull, shallow eyes flittered open, and she raised her arm - the metal one - to inspect it, watching what machinery was exposed beneath. Rolling over the bed to grab her bag that had been dropped and just left the instance she'd spotted this wonderful piece of furniture. Blindly, Stakh rummaged around and reached for a handful of her tools. If she had to pass some time, she might as well perform some maintenance on her favourite axe hand; planning to get done with enough time left to enter the bridge at 'noon'.

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