The enemies of the Emperor fear many things. They fear discovery, defeat, dispair, and death. Yet there is one thing they fear above all others. They fear the wrath of the Space Marines!

- Imperial Maxim

Watch Fortress Hlorim, 052.M42, within the Segmentum Tempestus. Decades after the opening of the great rift in the Galactic north, it's effects are still reverberating throughout the Imperium. With the cutting of the northern Imperium and the thousands of worlds now imperiled by the warp, many of the Imperium's forces are drawn to the Segmentums Obscura and Ultima to stem the tide and reinforce the Imperium's dominance.

Yet the southern territories of the Imperium cannot stand unmanned, for even away from the Great Rift, the threat of the alien is still all too present. And so the Deathwatch stands, ever vigilant, to protect the Imperium from all invaders. Watch Fortress Hlorim drifts in a small an inconsequential system of a white dwarf star, a gas planet and a pair of asteroid belts. Little else exists in the system other than the Watch Fortress though the Mechanicus have been preparing to start mining the asteroids for material. 

Inside the Watch Fortress you train for upcoming mission, but in more ways than one. Your team is only recently assembled, as kill-teams are broken up and new teams formed on a regular basis within the Deathwatch. Some of you have served with the Deathwatch long enough to have served on several teams before, but learning to trust new team mates, cousins by blood but brothers in the Deathwatch, is never a simple task.

Currently you are training within a holo chamber within the fortress, one far more sophisticated than any of you chapters possessed for the Deathwatch demands nothing less. Ingenious training servitors, designed to structurally resemble the ancient necrons, are made to look like Necron warriors and Immortals by the masterfully crafted holo-projectors in the room. Supervised by Tech-priests to ensure no permanent damage is done to impede future training session, you practice striking at the vulnerable points in the Necrons structure in close combat under the direction of the Watch Fortress's keeper. A veteran of the Raven Guard with a grim demeanor typical of his chapter. None of you are armored to avoid striking the training servitors to hard and destroying them.

Just as the training ends however and the Holo projectors power down. Alarms begin to blare throughout the station clamorous and accompanied by flashing red light. At the sound of the alarms the keeper runs from the room to take up his defensive post at the Watch Fortress's vaults. Before he leaves he tells you to armor up into your regular power armor as there may not be time to don Terminator armor and to find your captain in the briefing chamber.

I've been thinking of starting up a new RP and was wondering what people are interested in. I've got two ideas, one based on the Deathwatch, one on the Astra Militarum and was wondering what people might be interested in. I'm also wondering whether people want more combat oriented RP or more role-playing oriented RPs.

Cyradon manages to avoid the Daemon’s blow, his own strike going straight through the Daemon’s chest. The Bloodletter shudders for a moment, its semi-ethereal form dissolving into a hot, liquid-like red mist as it retreats from the material plane. It spits venom and screeches threats as it is dragged back to the warp, its snarling, rasping voice cascading through the minds of all present. The air smells strongly of brimstone.

The Hammerhead manages to narrowly avoid the blow, pulling back alongside the rest of the shattered Tau forces – but the alien aircraft have adapted themselves to the patterns of fire the Knight spits out. But they, like the rest of the alien forces, pull back – uninterested in continuing the battle any further. Still, Attano’s fire manages to leave the vehicles damaged and smoking – ensuring the aircraft will be in serious need of repairs.

Partisan medics appear, carrying bags of crude tools, supplies and hosting stretchers and whatever else they can find before approaching Wilfrith and the other Scions,

“We can assist your colleagues, if you permit us.”

They are quick to make room for the approaching Eldar.

The Tau trooper is far from light, but the adrenaline and religious fury driving Hen allows him to drag the Tau from its cloven feet and throw it against the tree. It seizes onto one of his arms and draws free a thin blade – a ceremonial thing rather than a weapon. Gurgling blood and spitting curses in its xenos tongue, it stabs at his shoulder, trying to free itself as it squirms. The other troopers simply beat the Tau they find to death, often executing them with their own weapons.

Dion’s shots skewer and fry aliens, the fleeing Tau collapsing in smoking heaps. The battle goes out with a whimper as the last of the Tau are killed or are left dying.

-

The Chimeras are, for all intents and purposes, wrecks. Their transmissions are shot and their tracks are shattered or simply missing. Their weapon systems seem for the most part fine, but their engines are badly damaged.

A squadron of Thunderbolts shot by overhead, the bulky machines spread out in a flat triangle, a momentary change in the constant the descend and ascension of Valkyries to and from Dun Gallin. The fortress was swelling with PDF from all over Sennach, sitting in the cramped rooms of its narrow hallways, lingering in the circular inner yards overshadowed by the Hydra batteries, gambling, swearing, hitting on the women, getting in fights and generally making a nuisance of themselves, at least from the perspective of the fortress’ regular inhabitants.

Another 2 years had passed and once again it was time for the mustering, an opportunity for chosen PDF soldiers to ascend into the ranks of the true Imperial Guard, of which some dreamed but others dreaded. Traditionally, Dun Gallin had been the sight of this event not only because of its strategic location on Sennach’s highest mountain, the Crown, but also because of its historic importance. After all, the forces of Saint Macharius had touched down on the planet here first and in the following centuries, Dun Gallin had been the planet’s main connection to the rest of Eressa.

As the Thunderbolts vanished from the unusually clear morning sky behind the grayish ferrocrete walls, the courtyard in front of the Argonarch’s office slowly came to life. A sizable number of PDF troops hadn’t found room in the fortress itself anymore and thus been forced to make camp in the open space before the office’s entrance, much to the chagrin of the local populace, which had been robbed of their usual gathering and market place. The fountain in the center of the circular plaza, depicting the meeting of Macharius and the Clan Gallin elders in withered bronze, had been turned off after a number of troopers had turned to take a bath in it, and likewise, the stalls lining the sides of the yard were mostly closed. Only the food vendors capitalized on the influx in customers, selling hot Grox Buns, roasted bread and strong, dark tea already.

The office itself was a tall, rectangular building, resting on fat, square pillars. It retained the blank, brutal aesthetic that had been buried under the pomp of imperial gothic elsewhere in the fortress, its walls sleek and smooth ferrocrete with narrow windows designed to be reliable loopholes in case an enemy should ever manage to break into the fortress proper. Imposing and cold, it was the designation of four PDF troopers, from all over Sennach, sent here on behalf of their superior officers to meet with the local garrison commander.

I saw the idea for the Arbites RP and it seems to be full already, but I got an idea for another RP.

Brief summary:

The players will play as members of a regiment that was assembled in the middle of a war out of a number of nearly wiped out regiments. This will take place in the Vigilius Sector in a war against the Orks on the planet Lazara. This campaign will have a greater ephasis on stratagy and teamwork as all characters will be ordinary guardsmen and therefore mortal. Expect characters to have a chance of death.

It would probably be good to study up on what diffirent kinds of guardsmen and equipment the Imperial Guard is made up of to try and get a good synergy among the players.

I'm hoping for a good number of players, though it will always be open for people wanting to join.

links to the 40k wiki and lexicanum imperial guard pages

https://warhammer40k.fandom.com/wiki/Astra_Militarum

https://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Astra_Militarum

As indicated on the Discord, this is the prep thread for an RP I am currently planning. It's here to discuss ideas, characters, player expectations and everything else relating to it.

A brief summary:

The players will play as a team of recruits for the Adeptus Arbites, going through training to become full-fledged Arbiters. The RP will put an emphasis on investigation and detective work rather than combat and take place in the Eressa sector.

I recommend players familiarize themselves with this setting as well as the Adeptus Arbites, though I will answer any questions to my best ability.

Other things:

I intend this to feature between 3 and 5 players, depending on the displayed interest.

A link to how I tend to run RPs:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/18X8E6wndoupVpXHOzebdqs4zZBZdjccb8-J0RB6p-uI/edit?usp=sharing

You step off the shuttle ramp and find yourself shielding your eyes from a burning sun, staggering onto the landing pad as you’re greeted by the pale blue morning sky of Ratajczyk. You are met by the sight of assembled Imperial soldiers. They are different from the Guard and PDF you might’ve previously encountered defending Ratajczyk; they wear finely wrought armour and the finest silks in the province; they carry las rifles carved from ebony wood and bear the scars of the recent battles. Their armour is minted with a gothic P symbol, representing their loyalty to the Rogue Trader family. One of the soldiers approaches you and, with a tone that struggles to hide their slight disgust, greets you,

“Welcome to Golgotha. The Governess has been awaiting your arrival, this way please.”

Golgotha is the temporary capital; after the Tau routed the Imperial Guard from the capital in the north. Its air is filled with the hum of war machines and engineering work, the whole of the old industrial city mobilised for the war-effort. The city is made up of ancient, crimson sandstone buildings interwoven with newer, sleeker pale white marble skyscrapers and hab blocks. Golden statues of the various governors and leaders of Ratajczyk flank one as they pass through the streets and into the small gardens and spaces of greenery once reserved only for the best and brightest of Golgotha’s citizenry. But as with the rest of the city, even these places have changed; as you march through the city you see how buildings have been laired with sandbags and housing converted into bunkers. The Guardsmen of a dozen different regiments lined the streets, while anti-air guns and missile batteries constantly scan the skies for Tau fighter-bomber craft. Citizens dig trenches and work to put out fires from the last raids, while others work through the rubble to recover loved ones.

The temporary capital is unlikely to get better before it gets worse.

It takes you some time to reach the Governess headquarters, a massive, sprawling palace complex that is surrounded by an army of Private Security forces and Imperial armour, with several Hydra Flak Tanks always on hand. You are rushed past the Guard on duty, as not to further damage the Governess’s already strained image. Rushed through the marble halls and exquisitely decorated chambers and rooms, you manage glimpses of Imperial officers bickering and squabbling. Eventually you are brought to the Governess.

Sioux awaits you in a makeshift throne room, which appears more like the bridge of a ship than a royal chamber. Monitors and computers have been thrown up in place of paintings while dozens of maps and star charts are sprawled over tables, attended to by dozens of staff officers and adjutants. Their attention is turned to you, Imperial officers muttering at the state of their situation, reduced to begging for help from outsiders and criminals.

Sioux herself wades forward to meet you. She wears a large long coat and a captain’s hat crowned by a trio of multi-coloured feathers, using a silver sabre sheathed in ebony leather as a makeshift cane as she hobbles towards you. She is not an old woman, appearing no older than forth, but is clearly tired from the conflict and examines you with slightly glassy eyes, her expression neutral. At all times she is flanked by a cadre of guards, all masked and armed with antique rifles. After a few moments of silence she extends a gloved hand, “I’m Governess Ballion, I’m glad you could make it; you’re the best news I’ve had all day, now, shall we get down to business?”

Having taken about a year long break after running RPs here back to back and non-stop, I'm looking to do a new RP. Basic concept is that an Imperial World in the Eastern Fringe (also in the Imperium Nihilus) is under attack by Chaos Space Marines of various warbands as well as Tau. The Imperial Governess has sent out a call to anyone (and I really do mean anyone, so Imperials, Xenos, Chaos) to help. Power level is going up as well - people can play anywhere from a Cultist to a Knight.

'The weak will always be led by the strong. Where the strong see purpose and act, the weak follow; where the strong cry out against fate, the weak bow their heads and succumb. There are many who are weak; and many are their temptations. Despise the weak for they shall flock to the call of the Daemon and the Renegade. Pity them not and scorn their cries of innocence - it is better that one hundred innocently fall before the wrath of the Emperor than one kneels before the Daemon. - The First Book of Indoctinations

The Arvus Lighter shakes from a patch of turbulence as it rumbles through the night sky. In the distance can be seen a constant steam of flashes and occasionally the rumble of ordinance can be heard above the noise of the ships engines. The interior is cramped and relatively uncomfortable, though accommodations had been made to make it more comfortable for the warriors who had left the front lines and answered the Inquisitor's call.

Soon those who had chosen to stay near the small windows on the craft could see the that the vessel was approaching the ruins of a city, broken and abandoned only recently in war. Soon the Arvus passed over the outskirts of the ruins and made for a square near the center where the only lights left the city were visible, marking out a landing site.

Standing near the landing site are a pair of individuals, one clad in power armor painted only in black, white, and shades of grey. The other wearing the rust red of the Adeptus Mechanicus. As the craft begins its approach for landing a light snowfall begins. Soon more details of the square are visible, many of the buildings looking burned or shelled. Only one has any light, the one nearest to where the pair are standing.

The snow fall thickens as the craft lands noisely. As the doors open the pilot calls back "Alright, everybody out! I've got a few more trips to make for the Inquisitor and it looks like he's already waiting for you. Good Luck!"

Hey all, I've spent a lot of time in the RPs on this site and DMing a D&D campaign in real life so I thought I'd try may hand at doing my own RP. This is based around a Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus, one of the three major Ordos of the Inquisition and is the oldest, smallest, and by far the most secretive. Most outside the Ordo believe it to be an Ordo based around policing the Inquisition. This RP is taking place on a planet that's rebelling in the wake of a Ork invasion that has since moved on to other planets in the sector, drawing the majority of Imperial forces with it, and is based around a Ordo Malleus Inquisitor's investigation.

Rules

- Players can make a character ranging from Space Marine Terminators to Sisters of Battle to regular Imperial Guardsmen. The only things I'm ruling out are Xenos, other Inquisitors, and Eversor assassins. Back up characters can be made in advance if you think your character might die.

- Combat will mostly involve NPC, try to keep what your characters do within whatever flimsy reason exists in 40K.

- The results of whether your characters actions in combat succeed or not will be determined by a d20 roll by me, the crazier the action the less likely though for the most part it will be a fail or succeed based roll.

- There are 4 slots open, but I will accept up to 6 participants.

Any questions you have should be posted in this thread as well

Intro

The Arvus Lighter shakes from a patch of turbulence as it rumbles through the night sky. In the distance can be seen a constant steam of flashes and occasionally the rumble of ordinance can be heard above the noise of the ships engines. The interior is cramped and relatively uncomfortable, though accommodations had been made to make it more comfortable for the warriors who had left the front lines and answered the Inquisitor's call.

Soon those who had chosen to stay near the small windows on the craft could see the that the vessel was approaching the ruins of a city, broken and abandoned only recently in war. Soon the Arvus passed over the outskirts of the ruins and made for a square near the center where the only lights left the city were visible, marking out a landing site.

Standing near the landing site are a pair of individuals, one clad in power armor painted only in black, white, and shades of grey. The other wearing the rust red of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Watch Fortress Malepertus, 670.M41, the distant Eressa Sector. You are one among few, an Astartes and now you have been made part of an even more elite group, the Deathwatch. Separated from your Chapter, chosen for your skill, your experience, or merely because your nature would not allow you to fit in with your Brothers, you have taken an oath to serve in the long vigil. Your watch has begun.

As an Astartes, you have been the best of the best, trans human warriors tasked with protecting the Imperium, armed and trained beyond any comparison. Yet, in the eyes of the Deathwatch, you have felt once again what it meant to be a recruit. You have learned to fight with those of other Chapters, to handle the unique weapons exclusive and befitting your service and sworn by your life to keep the secrets of the Deathwatch.

After months of rigorous training in the twisted halls of Malepertus, the time has finally come. You have been put together with Marines from other Chapters, brought to a circular chamber close to the heart of the Fortress. At the center, a round, polished stone table encompasses a holo-projector, lined with chairs that are fit to accomodate even the colossal size of a Space Marine. A few light bulbs hang from the ceiling, spending dim yellow light.

Opposite to you, already here as you entered, are two very different, yet somewhat alike people. To your let sits a woman, human by appearance. A long, green, white, blue & golden dress encompasses a buxom figure, crowned by a face with pale skin and dark, almond eyes framed by ravenous black hair which is tied into a knot at the back of her head. The lavish, flamboyant clothes would not look out of place on a Rogue Trader, but the Rosette, an ornament made of dark blue stone shaped into a capital 'I' and decorated with a golden skull, laying on the table in front of her identified the woman as nothing else than an Inquisitor.

"Welcome, Brothers", she greets and turns towards them with an amiable, warm smile. "A pleasure to have you here aboard Malepertus". Her soft tone and demeanour does little to mask the cold, measuring gaze which she shoots over all of you. On a second glance, you can see a man standing in the shadows behind her chair. His figure and posture indicate age but also experience, though there is little else to make out.

Next to her, sharing her aura of utter self-confidence and authority but complimenting it with the air of command and experience, looms a Space Marine in the signature black & silver armor of the Deathwatch.

Another day, another RP, this time set in our very own community project, the Eressa Sector. You will play Marines from a Chapter of your choice, called into service of the Deathwatch  upon Watch Fortress Malepertus for your ability with Bolter, Sword or the power of your mind. Together, you'll form a Kill-Team under the leadership of Watch Captain Ciaran.

What is it about?

Your squad will be sent to Chodounska, a planet suffering from the results of the Macharian Heresy, to complete a task only you can. Gear up, get ready and dive into the Xeno- and rebel-filled streets of Chodounska.

How to join

Step 1

Create a Space Marine: Hailing from a Chapter of your choice, whether canon or of your very own creation.

Step 2

Pick a role: Only the very best are called upon to serve in the Deathwatch. Wether with Bolter, Sword or psychic abilities. What role you had in your own Chapter will determine which role you will be granted in the Deathwatch.

Possible Roles:

• Tactical Marine: The backbone of any Astartes Chapter, Tactical Marines are multi-purpose super-soldiers. Versatility comes at the price of specialization however and there may be other Brothers exceeding you in their dedicated field of expertise.

• Assault Marine: Equipped with Jump Packs and Chain or Power Swords, Assault Marines carry death and destruction to the enemy. What they lack in ranged weaponry, they compensate with ferocity and the ability to quickly cover distance.

• Devastor: Heavy Weapon Specialists par excellence, a Devastor can provide overwhelming firepower with lethal accuracy even from a distance. You will cover your Brothers advance and in return receive their protection should an enemy come too close.

• Apothecary: Equipped with a Narthecium, Apothecaries carry out the sacred duty of recovering the Progenoids of their fallen Brothers. Beyond that, they are also able to treat wounds and administer potent cocktails of stimulants to enhance their Brothers' battle prowess.

• Chaplain : The role of a Deathwatch Chaplain is somewhat different from their regular Brothers, as they do not only have to tend to the Marines' spirits in the face of the horrors of the galaxy, but also quell the rivalries and antipathies some Chapters might feel towards each other.

• Epistolary : Like any Chapter, the Deathwatch makes use of the psychic might of Librarians in their missions. While lethal warriors, a Librarian's connection to the Warp always bears the risk of insanity or worse, daemonic possession.

Step 3

If you want to participate, leave a message stating your Marine's name, a brief summary of their background and what their role used to be. You will receive weapons fitting for your mission.

Rules

• The RP will be ready with at least 4 players, but I will accept up to 6.
• Plot armor only goes so far, so please have a backup character ready.

• Make sure that you have time for the RP. Life is unpredictable, but if you know that you will travel the word next week, please reconsider whether you'll be able to reply regularly.
• Due to their power (and rarity) there is a limit of 1 for the roles of Apothecary, Chaplain and Epistolary. If someone picked your preferred role before you got to it, you can either talk with them or have a fitting backup character ready to fill a possible loss.
• Epistolaries may choose from one Discipline for their powers.
• If you have any further questions, this thread is where those are dealt with. Alternatively, you can reach me over my talk page or our very own Discord Server.

Story Synopsis

You stand in a command room together with other Brothers, hailing from a multitude of Chapters from all over the Galaxy. They all wear the black and silver of the Deathwatch and have without a doubt proven their skill against vile Xenos just like you have.

As you wait, a door opposite to you opens and a woman with the unmistakable, self-secure aura of an Inquisitor enters. Right behind her is a Marine, his cold eyes and scarred face speaking of countless years of experience that exceed your own greatly.

"Well then", begins the woman as she manipulates the projector table in the center of the room, having the image of a blueish-gray planet appear in mid-air. "Shall we begin?"

The last few days have been an onslaught of regimented pre-operation tests: neuro-invasive lie detection, sanctioned psi-screenings, mock interrogations, and other, less tangible trials, the hazy recollections of which still gnaw faintly at the back of your psyche. Eventually, it all comes to a halt, as each of you awakens separately within a spartan cell with your wargear neatly arrayed before you.

You have no idea how you got there. You have no idea where you are. But that's not particularly perturbing. This is, after all, standard procedure for the Inquisition.

After briefly collecting yourselves and your equipment the doors to your rooms slide open with a hiss of hydraulics and a blank-faced minder with the Inquisitorial "I" branded into the flesh of his forehead ushers you each out into the corridor beyond. One by one, you are all herded into a dimly lit briefing theater, its sole entrance flanked by a pair of similarly-branded minders in onyx flakplate, with laspistols and at their sides and nothingness in their eyes. A minute passes. Two. Somewhere in the background, you can vaguely hear the sound of a hidden pict-projector stuttering into life.

Then He enters. You recognize this one, the one who oversaw the majority of your "debriefings", such as they were. His uniform is similar to that of the other personnel you've encountered, but his face is all sutures and steely augmetics, giving him the visage of an ironclad deathmask. His eyes are unblinking, burning coals and his gravelly voice issues from a pair vox-speakers implanted directly into the meat of his throat. You never learned his name. In all your previous interactions the minders seemed to refer to him simply as The Adjutant. Judging by his manner and bearing, many of you suspect he might be Ex-Guard.

"Listen up," He growls, the projector sputtering out light onto the blank wall behind him. "You're all here because you're the best at what you do. I'm here to brief you and, God-Emperor willing, keep you alive through these next few months. What I say here today may very well be the difference between salvation and damnation for an entire Sector of Imperial space, so sit down and shut up unless you actually have something useful to add to the conversation. Got it?"

“We are limited in our strength, and we remain cut off from orbit. We must take what we have and use it wisely, and we must fight with skill and guile rather than brute force. I believe you and your men should be capable of infiltrating the enemies’ defences and bringing down their war machine, or at least part of it. This is a planet wide-campaign, sergeant, and we must act as the greater part of a whole. Gather your men, and prepare them for battle.”

Sun'Haku's equipment is quickly seen to by the Techmarine, who is able to repair much of it. The Techmarine moves to do the same with the other Astartes, while Alpharius works on assisting the wounded to the best of his ability.

At the same time, Consus and his men are able to reach the Word Bearers encampment without much difficulty. It appears that the casualties the Astartes have already inflicted have left the enemy unwilling to try and fight a pure war of attrition. Vroch moves to great them, raising his crozius in salute to the Death Guard officer,

"Welcome Sergeant."

Hey all. I've finally gotten to the point where I can once again contribute on a regular basis, and I thought I'd kick things off with something a bit different. This is a basic outline of a Dark Heresy/Necromunda-type roleplay set in the Cancridrean Periphery.

Premise:

The year is 657.M40, and on fringes of the Ultima Segmentum a political upset within the boundaries of the backwater Cancridrean Periphery now has the entire Sector teetering on the brink of civil war. Though normally such an incident would be of little concern to the greater Imperium, word has reached the ears of the Holy Inquisition that this impending conflict may be more than just the result a petty aristocratic squabble, but rather a symptom of a conspiracy that would see the entire Periphery transformed into a fully-fledged successionist state. The Imperium of Man cannot afford a potential threat of that magnitude festering within the frontier, not while said frontier is already hemorrhaging under the twinned assaults of the Hadex Anomaly and the newly-discovered T'au Empire, and so steps are taken to ensure that such an outcome never occurs.

You are a specialist warband of the Inquisition's best and brightest, operatives sent undercover into the tangled maze that is Periphery's disparate factions with the goal of cutting out the beating heart of these insurgent machinations before they pupate into their final ruinous stages. But be warned: the choices you make and the actions you take will have a direct impact on the fate of the Sector... 

Rules:

• If you've played any of Imposter's RPs, you know the basic gist. No metagaming, keep your actions within the realm of plausibility, and please, don't ruin anyone else's fun.

• Please submit characters with brief bios, wargear lists, etc. Again, if you've played any of the other RPs, you probably know the drill by now.

• Prerequisites for characters are as follows: no Space Marines, no Xenos, no full-blown Inquisitors (though Inquisitorial Acolytes/Interrogators are acceptable). This is a mission that calls for a great deal of subtlety at times, so think operative types; assassins, infiltrators, spies, that sort of thing, and by all means get creative.

• In the event of PVP, we will be utilizing an online dice roller to determine outcomes based on player actions. That being said, it is preferable if you don't immediately start gunning down your companions over slights.

Before you ask, you do not actually need to be acquainted and/or have read the Periphery article or any of the affiliated articles to participate in the RP. Basic information will be relayed throughout the narrative, and there will be a mechanic in which you can access bits of Sector lore should the need for extra info arise.  

If you have any other questions, please post them here or on my Talk page.

The Ordo Hereticus, one of the 3 major Ordos of the Inquistion, tasked with hunting down heretics such as witches, mutants and traitors. This RP will follow the investigation of an Inquisitor of this Ordo.

Rules:

• Players can create characters ranging from a simple Guardsman over Tempestus Scions and Battle Sisters to Space Marines in Terminator Armor. Backup characters can be created in advance or by necessity.

​• Combat will mostly involve NPCs. It's pretty liberal, but try to keep it reasonable (in 40K terms).

• PvP will be decided by d20 rolls performed by me. It's mainly a 'fail or succeed' decision with criticals representing extreme outcomes, e.g. a 1 on shooting is a weapon jamming while a 20 could be a shot hitting a critical weakness.

• There are 4 slots open. If you want to participate, just post a character with a short description, wargear and background.

Any questions that you might have or that come up can be posted on this thread as well.

Intro:

The Valkyrie's frame shakes and rumbles as the vessel dives into the atmosphere of Bolna Sott, an Agri-World on the northern fringes of the Cinnabar Sector. The cramped interior is illuminated by a flaring red light and packed tightly with gear, weapons and last but not least the warriors gathered here by request of an Inquisitor. The howling of the engines makes communication barely possible, but eventually, the red light dies out in favor of the standard, dimly white lamps aligned on the ceiling of the cabin. 

The vessel slows down, the feeling of motion fading for that of descent and with a rumbling and a metallic thud, it connects to the ground. A moment later, the hatch opens with a hiss as fresh, cold air gushes into the fuggy cabin, opening to a dark sky and pouring rain. The landing platform is rectangular, its ferrocrete cracked and the Imperial Aquila pale and washed out. Elevated above a landscape of swampy flatland, a short set of metallic stairs connects it to a bleak platform overlooking a worn out rail line which disappeared in the rain.

An archaic looking train waits at the platform, spalling red paint barely concealing the signs of many, many repairs. Spewing fumes into the air, its engine bubbled idly as a door in the side swung open. In the formed rectangle of light stood a shadowy figure, its features unrecognizable safe for one thing: The broad-rimmed, tall hat commonly associated with the Ordo Hereticus.

It has been fifty years since the Ra’mon Colonisation Contingent was flung out of the Startide Nexus towards the newly-named planet Ra’mon, and fifty years since the first settlers touched down on this planet’s dry soil, reeling from the macabre horrors they witnessed in the immaterium, and hoping with all their beings that Tau’va would save them. These fifty years have evaporated away, and still the planet has been left alone to rot. Only rumours have ever tried to fill in the gaps. Some say the planet is cocooned away by eddies of warp storms cast out from the Great Rift that blot out all communication. Others tell stories of the Empire deliberately ignoring the colony for fear of it being far too warp-tainted to save.

The realest thoughts that probe the minds of the common Tau however are far more simple. They are matters of bare-faced survival, for ever since the first drones drilled their first foundations into the ground, Ra’mon has been a hostile patchwork of poorly-equipped, walled settlements stalked by hunger and decay, and constantly embattled by Kroot and Gue’vesa tribes, all of which were descended from the auxiliary cadres that were driven out by the first Tau settlers whose experience of the warp had altered them forever and made them desperate for something to blame.

In this ceaseless grind for survival, between the gaps of the large but brittle Fire Caste armies, the savage Kroot carnivore gangs, or the marauding Gue’vesa corsairs, there has risen a class of soldiers-for-hire whose skill in warfare and defiance of adversity has become legend. They are formed from defected soldiers, bored and talented youths, and former pirates and warlord grunts. They are the Monat’nan; the Freeswords. Their desire for battle and hunger for riches and fame has burnt away their prejudices and rendered them immune to the grudges of the past, for to survive as a Monat’nan, your skill as a warrior supplants all else.

~

The countless stars of the T’koreth hang above a roaring campfire, soaking the night sky in a billion blue pigments. The air is stiff, and the only significant sounds are the crackle and pop of burning wildwood and the soft hum of an urn of Ky’husa gently heating up.

Nobody speaks, but everyone has the same thought. A collection of Ra'mon'xauk-City Water Caste Diplomats and their Fire Team retinue are set to arrive with a business proposal. Prices have not been discussed, nor have the targets in question, but an offer from officials of the capital city of Ra’mon is far too delectable to be dismissed at face value.

A lighter sparks as Shas’vre A’nu lights a cigarette. He draws it in, its end glowing a quick, bright orange before a puff of smoke escapes his mouth. At that moment, the sound of padded footsteps meet your ears. Everyone looks at once to its source. In the distance, the silhouettes of two long-robed figures in domed pol-hats meet your eyes, and they are quickly flanked by a Breacher Team of a dozen armour-clad Shas’ui.

He took another puff, giving each of his comrades a cursory glance. Without getting up from where he sat, A’nu raised his hand, signalling them to come over. After a brief jerk of hesitation, the twin figures scurried forward. Their white robes billowed at the slightest disturbance, accentuating their movements with a characteristic wobble and flow that made them appear as if they were made of liquid.

“Creatures of ceremony, these Por’tol.” said A’nu, a smirk crossing his face.

The twins approached the edge of the fire’s light, their retinue keeping some distance behind them as they began to encircle the camp. The taller of the two gazed at the seated Monat’nan with a thoroughly buried look of condescension, suggesting to the Team that hiring Freesword scum was probably not his first choice. The other seemed softer and more amicable.

“Great night for a parlay, isn’t it Tau’fann?” A’nu greeted.

The tall official placed a gentle hand to his chest, feigning a meek demeanour.

“It is a wonderful night, Monat’nan,” He spoke, studiously eyeing over every single one of them, “I am Por’vre Taal’ret, and this is my associate, Por’ui Ya’yoi. As you are well aware, we have come to seek your services. Well, to put it more bluntly, we seek your particular strain of talents that would be unfitting to the doctrines of a Fire Caste La’rua...”

“Put it in real terms, please.” Interrupted Fio’ui Kai’kaara, not looking up from the plain-coloured doctor’s sausage he was methodically cutting up to eat.

Por’ui Ya’yoi raised a hand, notifying his superiour of his desire to speak. Vre’Taal’ret sealed his lips.

“For eight thousand Por’hesa, how would you feel about dispatching a posse of known terrorists?”

A’nu turned to look at his teammates.

The thread is now live! link

A collaborative story is soon to be run for Tau fans on the Wiki! All the necessary info for background lore, rules, and character creation is collated in this Google doc right here

This is a heavily lore centric, higher-difficulty RPG set on the desperate and abandoned Ra'mon Sept that centres around the plights and glories of one of the many Monat'nan (lit. Freeswords) a specific kind of mercenary team that’s not an uncommon sight on the planet.

Here's the Story Primer:

The countless stars of the T’koreth hang above a roaring campfire, soaking the night sky in a billion blue pigments. The air is stiff, and the only significant sounds are the crackle and pop of burning wildwood and the soft hum of an urn of Ky’husa gently heating up.

Nobody speaks, but everyone has the same thought. A collection of Ra'mon'xauk-City Water Caste Diplomats and their Fire Team retinue are set to arrive with a business proposal. Prices have not been discussed, nor have the targets in question, but an offer from officials of the capital city of Ra’mon is far too delectable to be dismissed at face value.

A lighter sparks as Shas’vre A’nu lights a cigarette. He draws it in, its end glowing a quick, bright orange before a puff of smoke escapes his mouth. At that moment, the sound of padded footsteps meet your ears. Everyone looks at once to its source. In the distance, the silhouettes of two long-robed figures in domed pol-hats meet your eyes, and they are quickly flanked by a Breacher Team of a dozen armour-clad Shas’ui. They’re early.