[b][i]All hail the King.[/i][/b] [i]Coronation day, Dornia Primaris, The Square.[/i] Today was the day. And today, nothing else was on Tulleesh's mind. The day he would surpass his father, and take his place. The day he would become King. It was a sunny day, which were rare at this time of the year. Thousands of people had come to witness the coronation, and thousands more were watching by television. He was dressed in absolutely ludicrous clothing, with a gigantic cape, hundreds of jewels, and a robe of ultimate regalty. He walked towards the throne, placed on The Square, flanked by hundreds of statues of fallen warriors. He marched stoicly towards his father, a determined look on both of their faces. As he reached him, he knelt. Without a word being said between the two of them, the king bent down to kiss his son's head. He took off his golden crown, and ceremoniously placed it on his son's head. Tulleesh stood back up, looking his father in the eyes. The two men nodded, and his father stepped aside. Tulleesh marched towards the throne, and he sat. Two ministers approached him, placing the crown Jewels in his hands. [b]"All rise!"[/b] they shouted. In front of tulleesh, the row of one thousand royal soldiers all stood at the same time, their golden armours gleaming in the sun. They raised their weapons in the air, and in one, chorous shout, they exclaimed, all together. [b][i]"ALL HAIL THE KING! ALL HAIL THE KING!"[/i][/b] His father descended the steps, and shouted too, raising his old family sword in the air. "All hail King Tulleesh the Second!" He turned around, and planted his sword into the ground. [b][i]"ALL HAIL KING TULLEESH!"[/i][/b] The guards stabbed their weapons into the earth. Tulleesh stood, leaving the Jewels in the hands of his ministers. Slowly, he approached the family Greatsword. He gently placed his hand around the sword. He measured its weight, its strength. He let it flow into him. He pulled it from the earth, and raised it towards the air. The King had come. This day marked the era of King Tulleesh the Second.

[i][b]The times, they are a' changin'[/b][/i] [i][u]Castle Tibernes, Dornia Prime. Main courtyard, Garden of Champions.[/u][/i] The courtyard had been decorated intently for this day, and this day alone. There were guests in the hundreds for this day never before seen, where a human would marry into the royal family. Monica had the honour, and responsibilities, of being the very first. The luxurious, colourful gardens were adorned with statues of a time long past, who hung decorations of the avowal ceremony. The guests were all seated around the platform, in half-circle positioned seats. At the base of the runway, Tulleesh stood. He wore a regal purple outfit, speckled with gold attachments. He was dressed beautifully, cleanly, and he smelled delightfully. He was a bit nervous, to be truthful. But, he was happy. This decision was his, and he was certain of his choice. Inside, in a prep room, Kaebius stood with his daughter. "Honey... you look so beautiful..." He had tears in his eyes. [spoiler]to cyber. Big day.[/spoiler]

Tirus was walking alone in the Bloodwrath's halls, looking for any sign of anything daemonic or just heretical. Sure, the ship has Heresy written all over it, but he couldn't do much about the ship itself. All he could really do was look for things inside the ship, which seemed fairly empty today... [spoiler]Open to Wehbby[/spoiler]

Well guys it's been a great run the past couple of years, we've had lots of amazing moments where our stories turned into something more and I'm proud to say that I was apart of it! Perhaps one day when my schedule permits it I'll return and purge your heresy... Until then, heretics!

[i]The public atrium was a hustle and bustle of workers and stowaways performing normal human duties. All was normal on the cursed ship. Suddenly the room darkened, shadows creeping in from all sides. Cries of shock and anger began to fill the room as people's daily routine was interrupted. All fell silent as a pinprick of light appeared in the air over the market. It danced aver so slightly back and forth and all inside were held captive by its appearance. It's movements began to become erratic, the orb itself growing unstable. Humans began to back away from it, extending farther out around it in fear. They were right to do so as the orb erupted out into a greenish black vortex glowing with a sickly light. The event roused screams from everyone around and a howling emitted from inside the vortex. People began to scatter as the vortex grew in size, stumbling over each other in acts of self preservation. With lighting speed, dagger like craft shot out of the portal in the atrium. Their sleek, oily black hulls covered in sharp angles and tools of torment. They began to swoop low, delivering their contents and destroying whatever came in their path with rows of automatic weapons. The crews landed amidst the population, immediately lashing out with blades and nets. They were tall, lithe, and in armor matching the menacing ships they landed in. Screams began to fill the atrium as the attackers began to slaughter and capture everything in their path. From the portal more horrors spewed forth. Hulking abominations of flesh began to rampage out, flanked by more figures, naked from the waist up save for masks. They were armed with horrific and wicked blades and guns intent on only causing tortuous pain. The screams of civilians echoed down every corridor of the ship as a full scale invasion of the Bloodwrath had begun. The Cabal of the Eclipsed sun and the Coven of the Hex had descended upon their prey. The Dark Eldar had come to claim their prisoners, and once they do, none will be left alive.[/i] [b]So begins my attempt at a ship wide event. There are only the alliances you can muster amongst yourselves, the Dark Eldar reason with no one and nothing will satiate their desire to cause pain and capture prisoners. There is no help from the outside, Chaos cares little for their mortal servants and the corruption on the ship means the Imperium would rather blast it from the void then rescue you from inside. Repel the invaders if you can, or survive till they have had their fill of hedonistic violence. The Raiding of the Bloodwrath has begun.[/b]

Rip Bnet RP.... RoB was like the Mayan empire, it had its rise and its golden age, and like any empire, it fell. May another one rise in its place, and if it does, may it try to beat what you built Ful. (Hint: it won't) Or hey, maybe I'm just not around enough and there's a resurgence.

You people need to RP with Robot more his shit is the bomb

The Eightfold Path Azoth Brund stalked down the hallways of the accursed ship he now considered a prison. His mission was simple, find the tome of the sorcerer. He, despite his hatred of sorcery, needed to work with his fellow Astartes. His pay, the chance to test his might against anything this ship could muster. [i]Kill........kill[/i] Brund grunted and bashed his fist against his crested helm. [i]NO[/i] He couldn't lose it here, too many mortals around, he would draw too much attention to himself. [i]Kill...Maim...[/i] [i]NO...N-NO[/i] As the centuries passed the World Eaters came to understand when one warrior's nails began to sing, all would join the chorus. Brund, like any other Astartes was trained not to fear, but the being that was nearing sent a very human chill down his neck. [i]Kill...Maim...Burn[/i] His mind was aflame with the need to kill, and a chant he had heard once long ago. [i]KILL...Maim...Burn[/i] Brund slumped against a bulkhead wall trembling, his breathing was quickening and the white knuckle grip on his axe evident by its own shaking. He heard screaming from down the hallway, and the roar of a chainaxe. [i]KILL...MAIM...Burn[/i] A few humans were observing him, his green eyed glare landed on them. Instead of faces he saw only skulls on all of them. Good. [i]KILL...MAIM...BURN[/i] HE RUSHED FORWARD AND SMASHED HIS FIST INTO THE CHEST OF ONE OF THE HUMANS. HE FELT THE SHATTERING OF THE RIBS, GOOD. THE REST TRIED TO FLEE BUT HE SWUNG HIS AXE WIDE DECAPITATING 3. His mind was flooded with an inhuman ringing, and the sound of a chainaxe getting closer. [i]KILLMAIMBURNKILLMAIMBURNKILLMAIMBURNKILLMAIMBURNKILLMAIMBURNKILLMAIMBURN[/i] This chant was heard so long ago, the day his legion shattered, the day he entered the eye. Amidst his skulltaking and the cacophony in his brain he looked down the hallway. One lone figure stalked towards him. His armor the deepest shade of Crimson. Brass adorned every detail of his plate and skulls dangled from his waist on rattling chains. Brund's senses were beyond hyper focused. The figure's left arm was bare, to the skin. In his right hand he gripped a smoking plasma pistol, the left, a massive gore soaked chainaxe. His helm was menacing, his eyes glowing green, power emanated from his gaze like that of a predator ready to strike. It was then that the figure turned his gaze to Brund. He spoke with an accent that identified him as belonging to the ancient Terran Jermanic tribes. "Rise brother, I have need of you yet to escape this place." Azoth Brund rose and slammed his fist against his breastplate, a salute to his former captain, and new lord...Kharn the Betrayer. They both turned as they heard heavy footsteps moving towards them. Open, [b]you cannot be killed by Kharn do not worry, he is simply a plot device for my 3 characters interacting[/b] Scratch that if you antagonize him don't expect me to hold back on his factual power

[i]No pity! No remorse! No fear![/i] Fear itself. Death incarnate. Unstoppable. These were few words uttered by the Cultists before being blasted to oblivion. Virtus, a Black Templars Dreadnought, was in the Bloodwrath's halls, wreaking Havoc upon some helpless Heretics. His Assault Cannon utterly destroying Cultists, his Flamer charring their corpses until they were unrecognizable. Soon, they were all dead, the Dreadnought stomping away to find more things to kill. [spoiler]Open[/spoiler]

[spoiler]heu this is a Stratos ult. Can someone add me to the group? I'm sorry I would request to make it easier but i really can't find it[/spoiler]

[i]"Why in The Emperor's Name would a Grey Knight be in Deathwatch?..."[/i] ~ Imperial Guard, noting this before a battle against Ork forces along side Domicious. Domicious awoke, jolting up with a gasp. His muddled green eyes darted from left to right, observing his surroundings. Shadows danced behind him, their casters in front of him, their backs turned. Domicious's helmet was off, his white hair fell down to his shoulders and his beard was unkept. The commotion coming from the Astartes made two of the five figures turn. They were all huddled around a large metal can, with a fire lit inside. They held out their hands as if waiting for a gift from the flame. And they got their gift. Warmth. It was cold, cold enough to make a non-Astartes want warmth intensely. Domicious got up with a grunt, causing the others to turn towards him. He stood to his full height, dwarfing the five men before him. Each of them looked very tired, with either shaven heads or a wild mop of hair, tangled like a rat's nest. "You ok there, Grey Knight?" The middle one spoke up, concern and curiosity equally peppered on his words. "I do not know. Where am I?" "Wish I knew, sir. We all woke up with no memory of how we got here. You were an unlucky one, a few junkies were picking at your body." "You have my gratitude. Please, call me Domicious." "A mighty name for a mighty warrior. Say, you're one of them Deathwatch fellas, right?" "Indeed, I was seconded into the Ordos Xenos." Domicious nodded, knowing exactly the coming question. "Why did you get into Deathwatch? Isn't it your Chapter's deal hunting Daemons?" "Indeed, the Grey Knights are tasked with the hunting of Daemonic threats. But, after you've slain enough, it begins to get monotonous. They say the same things, have the same strategies. I've already beaten them before a single shot was fired. So, my luck turned around, and my valor got me into Deathwatch. Fortunately, there is a lot more variety when I comes to Aliens. Orks, Tyranids, Necrons... Each battle challenged me more than my previous Chapter ever could. I enjoy a challenge." He looked to his helmet. "But I am afraid I must depart. I am sorry I did not get to share more, but I have a terrible felling about this place. "'Course. We understand." Domicious nodded. "Thank you." He grabbed his helmet and fitted it onto his head. A sound not unlike a gate closing was heard, as ancient symbols and writing glowed a heavenly yellow, and revealed the true prestige of his armor. He wore a full Aegis set, painted Watchmen Black, along with a Crusader Helm with glowing red lenses. His armor seemed to take components from a Mark VIII Set. His left arm was silver and gold, bearing the mark and design of a Champion of Deathwatch. His right arm held his Chapter's Mark with pride, and so did Domicious. Domicious then set off onto his trek into the Bloodwrath, his mind protected from the Warp and what horrors lay within, but his body as vulnerable as it ever was... [spoiler]Open to Indy and Wehb. The order of replies will be Indy, Wehb, then me. [/spoiler] ________________________________________________ A foul stench met the noses of all patrons in the underground bar. It was unbearable. Their eyes watered and their throats became scratchy. Suddenly, a burst of muffled and deep laughter emerged from behind the entrance door. The body of a man was thrown through, the door splintering as if it was feeble glass. The horrid sensation and stench intensified, as the patrons soon began collapsing into a coughing fit. The laughter was heard once more, as in stepped a hulking figure. A Plague Marine, his armor Green-Grey and corrupted by Nurgle's embrace. He held a gnarled Power Sword in one hand, glowing with a malefic green, and a Diseased Bolter in his other hand, flies swarming around it. The people who could comprehend what was happening through coughing affliction were filled with fear, as they tried to crawl away. The Plague Marine's helmet, reminiscent of a gas mask, bobbed up and down as he laughed. "This is gonna be fun..." His voice was deep and ragged, like sandpaper grinding on sandpaper. He unclipped a Blight Grenade from his waist and threw it over the counter, the explosion killing the bartender and destroying all of the drinks behind him. He the began to go to town, firing his Bolter at non-lethal spots, making their deaths as painful as possible. He grabbed one man by the head, his jagged fingers making the man's flesh rot and his hair fall out. He stared at the man with a cockeyed head. "Don't worry. Papa Nurgle's gonna treat ya right after I gut ya like a damn fish!" The Plague Marine laughed, as he stuck his Power Sword into the man's stomach and began to jerk it from side to side. The man screamed in pain and protest, blood spraying like a fountain from his stomach and his intestines spilling to the floor. The Plague Marine's armor now had splotches of red, as he chuckled. He grabbed a now unrecognizable corpse and sat on a stool, ripping its head off and beginning to fashion the skull into a Blight Grenade. The corpses, now being eaten by flies and parasites, were sure enough to attract attention when they were alive... [spoiler]Open to all.[/spoiler]

[i]The Chill of Night[/i] [i]Shadows danced across the bulkhead as three massive shapes stood behind the wall of fire. The unfortunate psyker trapped in a corner by the ring of fire was an imperial sanctioned adept. He had defected himself in fear.[/i] "Please lord!...I do not know where he ran off to!" [i]The man shrieked and cried as he knew the sorcerer wouldn't hesitate to kill him.[/i] [i]A calm, albeit vox distorted, voice answered back[/i] "I see past your feeble defenses Dubek, I know you know his location." [i]The fire inched closer and Dubek shrieked louder.[/i] "HE RAN TO THE LIVING HOLD, HES IN THE HIVE PLEASE!" [i]The fire licked Dubek's feet and then ceased. The sorcerer stepped through the smoke and grabbed Dubek by the throat. He lifted the man close to his helmet whispering.[/i] "Lie to me again slave, and I will harm you in more ways then you can dream off." [i]He reached out with his other hand, grabbing Dubek's, and broke 3 of his fingers. Dubek howled as the Thousand Son dropped him. Motioning to his two Rubicae he set off down the dark hallway with them in tow. The minor hive city within the ship's bowls was home to many things Nebamun wished to avoid, but his other slave had stollen his grimoire amongst others. Nebamun flexed his left hand, his tendons still stiff since that fateful day on Prospero ten thousand years ago. It did not hinder his abilities whatsoever, but was a constant reminder of failure, hate, betrayal, and most of all...hubris. Hours later the bulked opened and the three Astartes moved into the under hive. Nebamun ignored the stunned look of the newer filth that lived here, they would learn in time. He moved into the central plaza, shielding his mind with the greatest of wards while also searching for his wayward slave's psychic trail.[/i] Open

[u]Bloodwrath, General Quarters, Time Unknown.[/u] A loud stomping was heard throughout the area of the General Quarters nearest to the entrance. Some might of thought it someone in a bulky suit of power armor, others maybe a machine, both theories were partially right yet both were wrong. The hulking black mass of a Black Templars Dreadnought came in through the entrance, a little Ribbon shaped design with the word "Virtus" in black text on the sarcophagus. The mighty Dreadnought spoke with a loud, confident, yet weary voice, "I HAVE COME IN SEARCH OF MY BATTLE BROTHERS." It said. [spoiler]Open.[/spoiler]

[b]Tobias: First Strike[/b] [i]"It's time." Inquisitor Tobias stood upon a defense tower overlooking the supply road ran the length of the ships spine. It resembled more of a military highway, security towers, checkpoints, chokepoints, overlapping feild of fire. A work of genius to have been conceived let alone build, a perfect union of defense and engineering demands. At his command a series of missiles streaked though the air towards another tower. Pinpricks of light flared and extinguished as debris flew from the explosions before the tower's automated loader had an ignition on its conveyor. The secondary explosions finished the tower as it was rocked from its foundation from the inside and crumpled like an empty can of recaf. In the wake of its destruction Gaurdsmen rushed from their hideouts armed and ready to fight. The Battle of the Spine had begun.[/i] Closed

[i]"Men and women aboard the Bloodwrath. Hear me now and know that this is true. You have failed the Emperor and his teachings. Each passing moment left inactive against the Great Enemy is an affront to His holy name and works. You all have been corrupted in mind and soul. You follow a leader that males deals with Terra's greatest enemy since Horus and yet you still sit in simple adoration. You have failed and will never be granted asylum by any Imperial World as long as you live. I give you a simple chance of redemption. Join me, take up arms against the evils that have held you still and strike against the Great Enemy. For this is the very tenant of the Imperial Creed. Suffer not the Heretic. Those who do not join us in our righteousness of purpose have indeed fallen from the Imperial Truth and cannot be saved by mortal hands. Instead we shall offer the unrighteous as an offering to the true God of man so that he may sort the blessed from the damned. We strike soon."[/i] The man leans over the cognator and taps a series of commands sending the recording to be played on loops across the imperial sections of the ship. The body of an attendant lay across the floor with the sign of the Aquila brutally carved across his chest. The man simply leaves as he completes his work his golden armor shining in the dim glow of the transmission room in stark contrast to the twin bloodied chainswords across his back. [spoiler]We fight tommarow at dawn.[/spoiler]

Still alive??

Hello.... It's me....

Still alive?