[PLOT RP] MISSION Fort Stultus

The immediate area outside Naris Capitol city
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Postby Kaiser » Sun Jan 01, 2017 12:02 pm

Hey everyone! Some quick notes before we start off, I expect this to be a fairly occupied thread and I want to make sure everyone has an opportunity to do things and influence the outcome of events, so some organization is required.

What that means

A. We may need to organize this event into squads, just as a mission like this would be. Each squad leader will need to coordinate their team and their actions and consult with Captain Perray, who will be joining us, to keep some semblance of order.

B. To decide how many (if any) squads we'll need, I'm going to open this thread as a general roll-call first for the next 24 hours. Squad leaders will be chosen based on rank, activity, and the cruel will of the Emperor. Their teams will be assigned to them.

C. Captain Perray will be an NPC accompanying this mission and can ad-hoc reply as needed. As a narrator, I'll be piping in once a day, right around 12pm EST.

Some other general notes

- Please limit your entry to one character per person.

- As this is the first Plot RP, lethality is going to be set down low. Please note whether you're okay with either character death or injury in your roll-call post.

- Even if you are okay with player death, it most likely won't happen this time around, and only if you really put your back into it.

- You do not need to have FRAK set up to participate, but it might not be a bad idea. You won't need it to reply to a narrative post, but you may want it for interacting with your fellows.

- Narrative posts come every 24 hours, which is the time span you'll have to describe your actions. If you've not replied in this time (totally understandable, life happens) it'll be assumed your character is occupied with their previous action or something described by their squad leader.

-Try to keep your posts down to one per cycle. To help facilitate this, Vox Channel threads will be created for each squad to organize their efforts, chatter back and forth, decide on actions, and ultimately post their daily actions on the PLOT thread.

And with all that said, let's get this started!


The time is nearly 0500 and a bitter chill lingers on the parade grounds as sleepy troopers wind their way in from the barracks.

On your way to muster, you spy frost spider-webbing the trampled turf and window panes, destined to fade with twilight as Valmaria's sun rises. In the meantime a pair of whiteshields have capitalized on the first breaths of winter, both skirting across the surface of what was a decently sized puddle the prior day, tittering and flailing in an effort to stay on their feet. Commissar Holt discretely watches on from a supply stall a few doors down, cup of recaf in hand, as slate faced as ever.

The courtyard is ahead, and you can already hear the rise of voices as men and women cloister around the statue of old Saint Bastion. Captain Perray stands at ease beneath his shadow just at the top of the stairs, her breath pluming condensation as she surveys the growing crowd with a stoic, approximating stare and checks the time on her cron. She frowns, and refolds her hands at the small of her back as a vox-operator beside her speaks into his headset, his gaze turning to the north every so often.

Bells at HQ begin to echo out their early morning melody as the skating whiteshields yelp and scatter towards the growing ranks. The time has come to fall into formation, and only those keen on a lashing should fail to be in attendance.


[[ Please make your presence known, and indicate your reply to the questions in general notes OOC ]]

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Postby DeMarchese » Sun Jan 01, 2017 12:26 pm

[[OOC: I formally apply for entry into this adventure. Since I have only one character, that is who should be joining in case I am lucky]]
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Postby Vurrunna » Sun Jan 01, 2017 12:28 pm

Runner Lucas de Nongentia of the Draxin Penal Legions hustles as quickly as he can to the morning muster, left hand hooked beneath the strap of the lasgun slung over his shoulder, right hand planted firmly on the wide-brimmed helmet adorning his rubber-gasmasked face. The lad glances about, and, seeing that he is one of the first to arrive, moves toward the front and stands to attention.

[[I'm fine with Lucas getting injured (though a courtesy warning is always appreciated with such things), but would prefer if he not die--I'm not sure how I'd go on in life, without the little sucker.]]

[[EDIT: If we're supposed to just say "I'm joining with character X," then just ignore the descriptive text.]]

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Postby Kaiser » Sun Jan 01, 2017 12:34 pm

(( You're more than welcome to add descriptive text if you like! ))

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Postby LordOfWar867 » Sun Jan 01, 2017 12:36 pm

Levy Dayton Frankson comes out of the barracks and starts to make his way to parade grounds. Frankson only had been just awaken up in time for today's mission. He's a bit sleepy but he getting enough sleep that his body has been adjusting to his new sleep schedule. With his lasgun strap across his right shoulder, his short sword sheathed onto his belt, and holding the his helmet in left hand, Dayton finally approaches the parade grounds. The Levy starts to look around to see who else he's going to be serving along with today.

[[On Notes: I'm ok with getting injuries, but I don't want this character to die anytime soon]]
"Ave Imperator!"
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Postby Shanaar » Sun Jan 01, 2017 12:50 pm

Coming out of the Cathedral HQ, Livy makes his way towards the statue of Saint Bastion and starts to kneel before the statue. Afterwards, Livy starts to pray out loud and asks for protection from the Emperor for the brave man en women who are going to be assembled. Completing his prayers, Livy makes his way towards the Captain and makes the sign of the aquila towards her and says a short prayer for her. With his sacred duty done, Livy makes his way down the stairs and waits.

((OOC: Been waiting for this, seems like it's going to be a whole heck of fun. Joining in with mine Priest Livy Israel. Someone's got to be there to inspired the man and women with the faith of the Emperor and deal with the Traitor, the Xenos, the Heretic, etc. Not peruse in that order. I am ok with character death or maiming. Hopefully this is enough info, else let me know.))
Livy Israel: viewtopic.php?f=8&t=43
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Postby CyGamer » Sun Jan 01, 2017 1:00 pm

Krast stretched and put on the last of his armor, before heading to the parade. To much amsac last night, he said and rubbed his head at the sound of the bells. He took some piles a local merchant said helped with hangovers. As he got to the statue of Saint Bastion, he made a quick gesture of the aquila and stepped into the square to wait.
((OOC: Okay with injury, no death today though. Soldier is Krag R. Krast))
Last edited by CyGamer on Sun Jan 01, 2017 2:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Ave Omnissiah » Sun Jan 01, 2017 1:15 pm

Besides the orange robes and gleaming augmetic limbs, Skitarius 14-Mu Thyrax stands out from the crowd with his definite lack of haste. He enters the muster, arquebus at parade rest, with the same measured pace he used on the march; calculated to optimize travel times while minimizing stress on motive systems. (Not that he was aware of the thought behind his style of movement, for it was another doctrina unconsciously defining his actions.)

While outwardly as mechanistic and unyielding as any Mechanicus creation, those with the haptics or noospheric blessings to control Skitarii can easily discern that Thyrax is deeply uncomfortable. A Skitarii maniple would drop to their knees and sing binharic chants to the Omnissiah before every deployment, 14-Mu thinks as he walks to the formation, Do the servants of the Omnissiah-as-Emperor not even sing praise before they are permitted to fight? Completely lost as to his proper position, 14-Mu hesitates for a moment before an ancient piece of scrapcode, long buried in his cranial wetware from owners long since dead, bubbles to the surface. <When in Rome...>

A constant, melodic warble echoes softly from Thyrax's vox-grille as he prays to the Omnissiah that his cursed ignorance will not prove to be an embarrassment. He steps over to where the Regimental advisors and other, non-Militarum attaches have begun to gather, and snaps to an inhumanly rigid attention, leaden robes thumping against inviolate-alloy limbs.

[[OOC: Oh boy, I can't wait to try and plug a single Skitarius into the Guard command structure! 14-Mu Thyrax's life is in the hands of the Omnissiah, should he die in the line of duty it will be as He ordered]]

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Postby Vesper » Sun Jan 01, 2017 2:08 pm

[[OOC: Lt. Vesper Thorne can contribute up to a full sentinel squadron, minus one unit which is currently out of action. The allocation of that force is up to Captain Perray's discretion, being his senior officer in the Cadian 58th Mechanized. I will post an IC arrival based on the presence requested. I am always green-light for character death]]

[As far as character roleplaying, I will be playing Vesper, not a whole collection of characters, but they can be part of the mission if deemed appropriate.]
Last edited by Vesper on Sun Jan 01, 2017 2:23 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Postby Talancir » Sun Jan 01, 2017 2:11 pm

[[Joining with Epilochias Andromeda Maheras. I hope she won't die, but the Theós-Autokrátoras demands valor and a life well spent.]]

Having receieved permission (albeit with aggrieved exasperation from her Archilochias) to join the muster, Veteran Sergeant Andromeda Maheras arrived early, sitting on the perimeter on the glacis plate of a Chimera. While a Guardsman like her peers, Andromeda's unique status kept her apart from those she considered comrades. It was just as well, after all. Hers was a particular calling, and hers was in the service of a (slightly) different religion. And so she sat, swinging her bionic legs with a mildly carefree attitude, until the Skitarius of Ryza walked into view.

He was a glorious amalgamation, the perfect meld of man and Machine, the ecstacy of form and function. His robes fluttered as he walked, his Arquebus standing high above the crowd like an obelisk of lethality and holy purpose. At once, she was torn between exultation and terror. Not because of her status, but because of duty and old, old history. "Ryza," she breathed. "God's Cogs, Ryza is here..."

Hysteria threatened to grip her and warred with her discipline, but in the end, she had the victory. She got her breathing under control and remembered the batallion deployment orders.

"Protocol Theta-Two Theta Xi," she muttered, and bound her mind in shackles of discipline. She was here, and she will not run from her cousin, despite the danger. She swung down from the Chimera and wove her way through the crowd, approaching the Skitarius from an oblique side.

She came within earshot of the Skitarius when a melody of binharic spilled forth from his vox-grille. Andromeda froze, then sank to one knee out of reflex, her hands clasped in a namaste. It had been a while since she had heard a true Lingua-Technis canto, and her heart leapt in her chest, her eyes suddenly misting. Beauty in the Machine...

It was not her place to greet the Skitarius in the same manner as her fellow Guardsmen. Cogs in the Machine perform in their function and take pleasure in being part of the design of the whole, and despite her kinship to him (albeit unknown as yet to him), tradition reigned. She will not disappoint him.

She stood and marched toward the group and stopped just inside the Skitarius' peripheral vision a few feet away, and snapped to attention, her bionic legs clicking together. The briefing would be soon.
Last edited by Talancir on Sun Jan 01, 2017 3:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Vurrunna » Sun Jan 01, 2017 2:36 pm

Lucas stares at all of the newcomers. The metal soldiers always confused him, since he had trouble deciding whether to call them "ma'am" or "sir," and he had never had much good fortune dealing with the priesty-folks, with all their robes and fancy talk. For a moment he hoped he wouldn't be stuck with them, but then he quickly reminded himself of his duty to serve the Empire and respect all of his fellow soldiers.

He looks about a bit, noticing Levy Frankson with a nod and a soft "Good morning" that's mostly lost from their distance of a few yards, then, seeing Kasrkin Krast coming, perks up and gives the flamewalker a quick wave.

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Postby CyGamer » Sun Jan 01, 2017 3:07 pm

Krast was wondering if it was frowned upon to smoke next to saint Bastion when he A really odd looking tech-priest walk in. He seemed more like a servitor than a Priest but he'd rather not get zapped or issued a plasma gun, so he kept quiet. He then say
Lucas wave to him. He smiled and waved back. Good kid, lacked confidence but he was a nice one. He pulled out his Iho pack and put one between his lips.

"I either have to stop drinking, or smoking." He said,"Eh if I survived this deployment."
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Postby Zink » Sun Jan 01, 2017 3:08 pm

[EDIT: actually made an intro, and to reiterate, I'm fine with character injury or death- Comes with the setting.]

When it comes to people, only a few could be considered 'Morning' people- That is, to say, they are running at peak efficiency from the moment they wake up, unlike the groggy and tired masses that filled the courtyard around St. Bastion's statue. However, Kriegsmen are not 'Normal people'. Guardsmen sometimes conjure up stories about how Kriegers don't sleep, and that they are always watching you through those soulless, darkened visors. While such hearsay is utter nonsense, it isn't too far from the truth.

Quartermaster #32-T-3503 was well awake by the time the bells rang from HQ. Raising his head from the improvised desk that was so gratefully lent* to him [Read: Salvaged from an abandoned building], he rested the rather tarnished quill down onto the desk, deciding to save the report to the local Munitorium stockpiles for later. Pushing the chair back, he stood, looking to the Skull-faced visage of his helmet that rested upon the desk. In this dugout, thoroughly constructed by the Grenadier and a fellow Engineer, he felt... comfortable enough to remove it. No, that would imply a state of well being- The Quartermaster mused, re-thinking his choice of words. Content. Secure. Lost in his thoughts, the Quartermaster was reminded of his task by another ring of the bell, prompting him to grab the helm from his desk. Staring into the black, soulless visage of the visor one last time, he affixed it to his head, bringing the respirator back where it properly belonged- snug firmly over his visage.

Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he firmly affixed the harness, checking that each strap was firmly secure, only stopping when there was absolutely no sway in the weight. Holstering his las-pistol on his hip, he grasped his hand around the stock of his primary weapon- A bolter, One of the Human-Patterns, thankfully, as any larger variant would kill him from the recoil alone. Giving a silent prayer to the Machine spirit, he slung the weapon's strap over his side, holding it in the crook of his arm as he marched out of the dug-out, signaling the cadre of Medical Servitors to follow him. While their appearance was... unnerving to most, the utility was quite apparent, assisting him in moving wounded, carrying salvaged supplies, and acting as a form of meat-shield in emergencies. They'd seen better days, of course, but when the staff here could barely keep up with supplies on their own, servitor repairs were not high on the priority list.

Shuffling himself into the back of the crowd, the Quartermaster stood and waited, eagerly awaiting his new orders.
Last edited by Zink on Sun Jan 01, 2017 9:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby LordOfWar867 » Sun Jan 01, 2017 3:14 pm

Levy Dayton Frankson looks unease by the arrival of the metal man that is still beyond his comprehension. His right hand's grip tightens on his lasgun's strap
"Ave Imperator!"
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Postby 2557 » Sun Jan 01, 2017 3:27 pm

[[All for death and manglement. It's 40k, comes with the territory and hey, if I lose an eye I could bet a baleful eye and other replacements.]]

Stripe looked around at the gathering ground thankful for her coat. "Hey Hero," Her comrade and her exchanged an informal greeting. "I don't expect we'll be on this job together will we?"

"Maybe but probably not."

Stripe could recognize several of the people here but something just felt off to her about today. "I feel like this is going to be big."

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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Sun Jan 01, 2017 3:50 pm

In the Emperor's Name, let none survive.

Grenadier #66-A-7343 did not seem affected in the least by the onset of the colder weather, a few puffs of condensation venting from their skull-plated gas mask. Dull green lenses regarded the gathering crowds with a mute indifference, the Krieger silently appraising the state of the defensive measures around the statue.

Officer has elevated themselves above the rank and file. Prime opportunity to be sniped. Enclosed walls would trap the shockwave of a shell burst and force it back inwards again. Should have hung a set of cameoline tarpaulins over the courtyard.

The Grenadier's heavy stubber sat in its component pieces strapped to their backpack, which was itself stuffed to the brim with ammunition, the weapon imposing even in its lessened state. A motley selection of equipment either hung from the Krieger's pack or was holstered upon their person, from a flare gun to a pair of spotting magnoculars, a collapsible entrenching tool (collapsed, currently), and even a hot-shot laspistol. They were a walking armoury, and yet never seemed to be overly encumbered, silently carrying around their menagerie of equipment with all the emotion of a cogitator - if a cogitator were half as expressive.

The carapace-armoured Krieger was never more than a few paces away from the Death Korps Quartermaster and his cadre of support servitors, shadowing their assigned charge as if ready to hurl themselves in front of incoming fire any second. Command didn't have to give the Grenadier orders - they simply informed the Quartermaster on what he had to do and the Grenadier would follow him, as if they were the same person in two very different bodies. That line of thought brought #66-A-7343 here - not to accept orders, but to await instruction from the Quartermaster once he'd received his orders. The fact that said orders may well be next to impossible - or even suicidal - mattered not.

#66-A-7343 was a Grenadier of Krieg, and dying matters little to one who is already dead.


[I'm fine with injury and/or death. Such is life on Krieg.]
Ferrum honore veniat.
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Postby Nevaraon » Sun Jan 01, 2017 4:12 pm

Sir Creedanfall "Croaker" Vervusius of the Katavarian Free Company, hustled up towards the meeting grounds. Looking fierce and resplendent in his full red and black warplate, his trencher shield strapped to his arm, and his raptgar leather cloak wrapped around him.

Once again, he had been selected to be the face of the Katavarian Free Company, away from his dog-brothers. Which was okay, for as much as he loved his brothers, Croaker liked meeting new people. And always loved a chance to prove his skills upon the battlefield that earned him the dubiously prestigious honor of a Trencher Knight.

Croaker hurriedly, fell into formation while donning his white helmet cast in the form of a grinning skull. While glancing around he noticed the young guardsman that had sparred with him the other day. He offered a wave, forgetting that the guardsman probably wouldn't recognize him with the helmet and armor on.

__________________________________ OOC: im fine with Death and Injury for all things good and bad are ultimately gifts for the God-Emperor. Really excited to be a part of this. :)

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Postby Metal C0Mmander » Sun Jan 01, 2017 4:42 pm

OOC: I'm in. I have the character I'm going to use running in an other thread though so let's try and keep him from dying and receiving really major injuries this time around(I.E. Out of action for a while kind of injuries). I don't mind using F.R.A.K. though I will need to set it up. Probably at the same time I set up my character sheet.

Sergeant Thomas Russ drowsily made his way to his place in the formation. He had barely spent a night in the base that he was already being sent off for an other mission. He admitedly didn't properly understood his breifing only where he needed to present himself. Looking ahead covering his eyes from the glaring sun he saw Captain Perray overlooking the assembly. As much as he wanted to he couldn't think of much worng with her even though he believed she had something to do with his lack of advancement in the ranks recently. If she was leading them in battle he thought, then maybe this mission wouldn't be too bad.
Last edited by Metal C0Mmander on Sun Jan 01, 2017 5:55 pm, edited 2 times in total.
If you are seeing this I didn't die or anything I just figured that because of my unabillity to remain involved regularly for long periods of time I might as well not bother the rest of the forum.

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Postby Lieutenant Cornelius Aventis » Sun Jan 01, 2017 4:49 pm

Lieutenant Aventis finishes adjusting his carapace armour and does a final check of his equipment before mustering with the rest of the troops next to the statue of Saint Bastion.

((OOC I'm fine with injuries, preferably not death, limbs can be replaced.))
Lieutenant Cornelius Aventis.
Rob the Ogryn.


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Postby LordOfWar867 » Sun Jan 01, 2017 4:52 pm

Nevaraon wrote: Croaker hurriedly, fell into formation while donning his white helmet cast in the form of a grinning skull. While glancing around he noticed the young guardsman that had sparred with him the other day. He offered a wave, forgetting that the guardsman probably wouldn't recognize him with the helmet and armor on.

Levy Dayton Frankson puts on his helmet fleece onto his head, then the helmet and begins to strap it. As he see the man waving to him not sure who it was beneath the armor, but gives a slight wave back anyway. Dayton then makes sure the helmet is secured on his head.
"Ave Imperator!"
Current Character: Levy Dayton Frankson | Apperance

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