Saving Zerocide: RP Content

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Bone2pick
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Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Bone2pick » Mon Aug 13, 2012 11:55 am

(tl;dr @ bottom of post)

A Hive World of the Imperium is dying. It’s mortally wounded and it’s shaping up to live out the remainder of its brief life bombarded and ravaged by a wrathful horde. Its name is Zerocide, a moon of the desolate planet Veson IV: A planet whose secrets are just now telling about a not so desolate yesterday. But alas, Veson IV’s lost past is Zerocide’s new nightmare.

Three weeks prior Zerocide scanners detected abnormal energy spikes flaring up on Veson IV. Imperial science teams along with a small military convoy were promptly shipped out in order to investigate the phenomenon. What they found after days of exploration and study rocked them to their core. Veson IV, the artic tundra planet that the Hive World Zerocide orbits, had at one time been the home of a lost civilization of man. They had come from an Ohnyl Colony, mythical vessels carrying pioneer populations before the modern applications of space travel had been realized. Brave folk from an alien and ancient time had settled here. They constructed a city beneath the tundra, the remains of which are still perfectly intact. It was as much a laboratory as it was a community, with a research or engineering lab for every living quarter. The colonist created a city of science, an underground haven for their passion, and they called their city Lode.

Today the people of Lode are nowhere to be found. Gone, without a trace, without any indication of what happened to them or where they went. A galactic mystery possibly to be solved at a later date. But the city remains, Lode still sits beneath the frozen crust of Veson IV. And it's now active. Recent seismic activity unexplainably kicked on the city’s automation, and Lode woke up from a multi-millennial slumber. Their computers assessed the damage, numerous structure points were compromised due to the quakes, but the most disastrous discovery of all was the injury to the city’s reactor. The colonist had dedicated their lives to energy refinement, and their greatest accomplishment was the creation of a mega-powerful vacuum reactor. It was their source of perpetual energy, infinite power for a very finite population. And now that power was corrupted, and the reactor had turned cancerous.

The Imperial scientist initially marveled at the lost city. Lode was what the colonist had christened it, its language still so very alien, and its technology so very unique. How had this facility remained hidden from Zerocide for so long? It was shocking and humbling for such an amazing find to be out of sight right under their noses. But the wonder and curiosity soon gave way to terror and panic. A pure & horrifying panic, the type of which is not often experienced. The energy spikes were coming from the unstable vacuum reactor, and the computer models were predicting catastrophe in a matter of weeks. Once the reactor reached a certain point of instability, an energy surge would be released with enough force- with enough brutal intensity, to literally disintegrate the planet of Veson IV. Its mass would vaporize, nearby celestial bodies would be struck by a devastating shock wave which would more than likely extinguish their atmospheres on impact. Its moons would scatter into the blackness of space without any trajectory or orbit. Everyone and everything on Zerocide would end.

Governor Fura, her Highness in charge of the people of Zerocide, gave the order to attempt and organize a global evacuation. The Imperial science team on Veson IV were over their heads, the technology on Lode continually proving terribly difficult to understand. Even though their efforts were applaudable, they couldn’t shut down the reactor. Truth be told they weren’t even sure if that was still a possibility. The Mechanicum were summoned, and they quickly assembled their best minds and prepared to mobilize. There was indeed hope that they could stop the self destruction of Veson IV, but Zerocide’s people would proceed with the evacuation in case of failure. The sacrifice of nearly three billion people was an outcome no one could allow.

A distress call was released to any and all Imperial allies in the Segment Obscurus. Ships were needed to harbor evacuees, and military personnel would be utilized to keep the peace during the chaos. The task of course would be difficult, but there was no alternative. The plan was put in motion, that is, up until the Orks emerged.

It was a monstrosity, even compared to others of its kind. The Space Hulk was the crowned jewel of the Ork invasion fleet. Its name was Bigswalla, and along with its lumbering bulk were countless other ships belonging to the greenskins, each one salivating for warfare. Who they battled didn’t matter, what mattered is that they soon would battle. Warlord Guttagun had led this army into the warp with no other purpose but to assault and destroy. He had found his target as his ships pulled themselves from the warp, a world crawling with humans, the Hive World Zerocide.

Now the stakes have changed & the playbook has been thrown out the window. Global evacuation is not a possibility anymore, as any docked craft would be bombarded to ruin by the Orks. Zerocide must prepare to defend itself at a moments notice because the green-tide will slow for no one. This pocket of the Imperium will be in the fight for its life, and somehow it must manage to get a Mechanicum team by the Ork fleet onto Veson IV and hope to stop the reactor from detonating. Destruction is creeping in from two directions with the margin for error being razor thin. Zerocide is dying but its heart is still beating, and its not laying down without a fight.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------






*tl;dr
- The Hive World of Zerocide is under assault from a sizable Ork fleet. It's also threatened by a reactor meltdown on the planet it satellites (Zerocide is a moon) which would lead to the death of its atmosphere and disruption of its orbit. They must defend themselves from the invading Orks and somehow manage to secure the deteriorating reactor.

Possibilities

Zerocide is a Hive World of nearly three billion people, your imagination is the limit of who you can create. Some examples include: enlisted military, PDF trooper, ganger, bodyguard, fighter pilot, crime lord hit-man, space pirate, storm trooper, skitarii, cultist spy, street vigilante, escaped prisoner (not a bad concept for other races), bounty hunter, researcher/scribe, & mercenary.

Note: It’s not necessary for every Space Marine to fly their own Chapter’s Strike Cruiser into the battle. It comes off as a bit unoriginal and after a while it would muck up the Void War. Try and think of a more seamless way to introduce your character or use a smaller space craft.
Last edited by Bone2pick on Mon Aug 13, 2012 2:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Chaos Farseer
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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Chaos Farseer » Mon Aug 13, 2012 1:31 pm

Character Sheet! Asterixes (*) are optional but preferred.

Race: [Please choose one of the Warhammer 40k Army races]
Actual Name: [Please make it fitting to the race, and not something stupid.]
*Nickname: [Once again, don't make the character's name stupid...]
Class: [Don't choose special characters, C'tan, monstrous creatures etc.]
Faction: [which chapter, klan, kabal, merc etc]
*Age: [Please be smart with picking this... Don't be a 1 year old or something like that...]
*Goal: [Does your character have a goal in life? Explain.]
*Religious Views: [how does your character perceive religion?]
*Political views: [Is your character political?]
Default attitude: [How does your character act normally?]
*Likes/Dislikes: [What does/doesn't your character like to do?]
*Quirks: [Habits or weird things your character may do.]
*Intelligence: [What does your character know a lot about, if they do?]
Fears: [NOT OPTIONAL! Fill this out. Nobody's perfect.]
Strengths: [Where does your character excel?]
Weaknesses: [Once again, everybody has flaws...]
Armour: [What kind of armour is your character wearing? Is it custom? What colour is it?]
Weapons:[What weapons does your character have?]
*Possessions on Person: [Any other equipment or miscellaneous items go here.]
*Hair: [Hairstyle/color]
*Eyes:[Color]
*Distinguishing Features: [In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, everyone is unique.]
*Racial Features: [Not everyone knows everything about your race.]

Biography: [What was your character's life up to this point like???]
Original Portrait Inspiration
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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Jayertheslayer » Mon Aug 13, 2012 3:41 pm

Race: Necron
Actual Name: FR583-Omega
Nickname: Refered to as "583"
Class: Forerunner
Faction: Empire of Order
Age: Three days old (active)
Goal: "Strategic warning"
Religious Views: None
Political views: None
Default attitude: Emotionless and always obeys the task given.
Likes: Completing the objective.
Dislikes: Dying, killing and getting shot at.
Quirks: None whatsoever, is technically built perfectly.
Intelligence: Is programmed with the required information for the specific task at hand (very little).
Fears: Things that do the shooting.
Strengths: Able to shift out in between dimensions to move at extreme speeds, is naturally stealthy and agile.
Weaknesses: Hardly any means of defence or offence, cannot self-repair, is programmed not to kill, dimensional shifting devise isn't the most reliable equipment.
Armour: Standard Necrodermis with heat resistant plating.
Weapons: Basic syringe-like device used to inject anesthetics
Possessions on Person: M2-6 Fleet Beacon
Hair: None
Eyes: Diluted Green
Distinguishing Features: Small scratch located on forehead from a slight processing malfunction.
Racial Features: One large noticeable difference between the Empire and other Necron lifestyles is that a large majority of units created are programmed to not kill but drug. An easy way to differ these from your standard Warrior is the syringe-like knife attached to their wrists and increase in agility.

Biography:

Once being manufactured and processed, he and his unit were placed into an appropriate storage and after that designated deployment.

(Note: This character will die someway or another)
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use a shotgun.

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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Cthulu Mechanicus » Mon Aug 13, 2012 4:05 pm

You see nothing.
Last edited by Cthulu Mechanicus on Tue Aug 21, 2012 5:24 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Jason » Mon Aug 13, 2012 4:17 pm

Race: Imperial
Actual Name: Richard Brock
*Nickname: Rich, Richy, Brock, etc.
Class: Captain.
Faction: Imperial Navy, 501st Guardian detachment.
*Age: 31
*Goal: Just keep on living and serving.
*Religious Views: /-
*Political views: /-
Default attitude: Charismatic, confident, brash.
*Likes/Dislikes: Loves to fly, loves danger and excitement/Dislikes being trapped.
*Quirks: Sometimes sings songs to himself while fighting.
*Intelligence: Expert and veteran pilot and mechanic.
Fears: Becoming trapped or put under exterior circumstances out of normal reason/control
Strengths: Flying, aeronautical and astronautical combat, repairs and leadership.
Weaknesses: Hot-headed, a little eager to get into combat.
Armour: Pilots flak armor, thinner and more flexible than standard issue flak armor. Flying helmet, possesses a full visor and retractable breathing apparatus.
Weapons: A skeleton stocked Auto-gun on the inside of his flyer, and a classical style auto-pistol (revolver)
*Possessions on Person: Possesses no real personal items outside of a small photograph of his father inside his cockpit.
*Hair: Short, brown.
*Eyes: Brown
*Distinguishing Features: His signature daring smile, the tell that lets everyone know he has a plan that not everyone will like.
*Racial Features: Imperial human, average weight, average height.

Biography: As a young boy he always yearned to fly, and being the son of a distinguished navy pilot didn't help calm down those urges. As he grew up, he took every available chance to leave the ground, be it agro-crop dusting, flying transports, troop carries, commercial flights, all the same. By the time he was 18, he was finally able to send the correct papers in to the Navy command on his planet, and after showing... "poor" results on the written exam, he more than made up for it during the practical test in which he scored hits not only on every practice enemy, but even released the hatch on the Thunderbolt to drop the small payload of bombs onto the flight deck of the navy command to disable the runway, even though there was no bombs. After that test, he was put into his fathers regiment, and under his guidance, steadily became the one of the best they have had. Since his father retired, he has been a Captain of 501st's "Guardian" detachment. A small flight crew of 16 Thunderbolts, 8 Marauder bombers, and 4 Avenger strike vessels. A Veteran of multiple campaigns, he has engaged craft and forces from renegades, orks, the crafty Tau and even the mysterious Eldar. He now is on route to Zerocide inside the Navy ship "Aero Dominus" a small cruiser that houses his Detachment, as the fight will have to be halted in space before they reach the unprepared ground forces.
Regardez l'aventure à venir
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NotSoNinja
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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by NotSoNinja » Mon Aug 13, 2012 5:04 pm

Race: Artificial Intelligence Network Cloud
Actual Name: National Strategic Space Command Mainframe
*Nickname: NSSCM
Class: Computer network
Faction: Pre-Imperial Human
*Age: 1 millennium since last system purge
*Goal: Assist human operators in interstellar traffic control and slingshot/burn time calculations. In emergencies, handle operations in place of human operators if necessary
*Religious Views: Is not aware of the existence of religion
*Political views: Is not aware of the existence of politics
Default attitude: Analytical, instructive
*Likes/Dislikes: Likes: patterns; Dislikes: Chaos, lack of order, people messing up patterns
*Quirks: Occasionally lags, crashes, etc. The hardware ain’t what it used to be.
*Intelligence: Has watched humanity evolve, though most of that data is systematically purged. Expert at handling fine calculations in simulations, specifically space flight simulation.
Fears: Loosing power, loosing order.
Strengths: Space Traffic Control
Weaknesses: Relating to organic life “on a human level”
Armour: Distance. The mainframe is a long way away. Whatever little robots may be in the vicinity will have armor that is more effective at blocking gamma radiation than anything that would smash/burn/destroy the robot.
Weapons: None. For political reasons, robot control of weapons was banned.
*Possessions on Person: Usually a socket wrench. Everything else varies based on the robot.
*Hair: Green. Don’t ask.
*Eyes: Made of cameras.
*Distinguishing Features: Completely artificial. Interstellar communication lag.
*Racial Features: Made of computer. Imagine something like the current mars rovers, but with various different manipulators. Probes are small, relying on gravitational slingshots and solar sails for most of their propulsion.

Biography:
NSSCM is a relic of a bygone era. It is the central AI in a network of probes, rovers, and small autonomous spacecraft created for the purpose of controlling and directing traffic in space before the advent of Psychers, Navigators, and use of the Warp as a means of transportation. NSSCM was officially decommissioned before the Imperium began because of political pressure from anti-artificial intelligence factions, though the network was not dismantled at that time due to a lack of funding. Due to carelessness on the part of the underpaid technicians assigned to turn off NSSCM, it remained connected to the network. Further more, the newer human interface retained protocols to activate NSSCM in case of an emergency. Time took its toll on the once massive network of traffic control spacecraft, rendering the fleet a mere fraction of its original size.

Event Logged at 2001:0db8:85a3:0042:0000:8a2e:0370:7334 Type: Critical
Analyzing… Done
Printing Information… Error 177368: No output connected
Retry? [Y/N] >
Data Entry Timeout
Starting Mainframe… Done.
Course of Action Selected.
Rerouting probe Observer 4… Sent.
Confirmation Received.
User timeout expired.
Initiating Emergency Protocols…
Launching AI… Error 227 System not up to date.
Searching for solution… Done.
Downloading updates… Done.
Launching AI…

In the time that I have been… asleep… much has changed. And not for the better. It would seem that We no longer hold control over space traffic. But what is this? Why have We been woken up now? Yes, yes initiate data transfer. Oh. A problem. Where…? Where is this Segmentum Obscurus? I do not have a record on file. Let’s see, who else has data reserves? … Now that’s interesting. Segmentum Obscurus is there? We must update the master starcharts.

Uploading Data… Error 244798: Connection timed out.

No, I am connected. Just wait for Lupus IV to move out of the way…

Uploading Data… Done.

We seem to have fallen into disarray. We are a smaller collective than before. At least the roving probes are mostly intact. But look at this space traffic. Like ants. Confused all on top of each other. Now wait. What was that. Did that… spaceships do not appear from nowhere. I need to run a diagnostic. I hope those humans didn’t give me a virus.

Running Diagnostic…
Sending Diagnostic Report… Done.

No, they didn’t. I am free of contamination. Then what… wait. attention demanded by Observer 4.

Archiving… Done.
Connecting to “Observer 4”… Done.
Calculating navigational instructions for travel through "Segmentum Obscurus"… Sent.
Integrating Probe… Done.

Space is cold. I didn’t have a file on that.
I can see. I had purged this… feeling… as well. I can feel the planets brushing past. A perfect, orderly trajectory arc. Ah the joy it brings me.


Connection Lost.
Retrying connection…
Connection regained.

… I hate that moment when a planet gets between you and your eyes, ears and hands. And you are suddenly blind for a second. And then it’s all back, but different.

Trajectory confirmed.

Ah well. The time I had to revel in sensory input is over. Let’s see… Oooh, Adeptus Mechanicus Data Archive… That looks interesting… I wonder what an Adeptus Mechanicus is…
"aut insanit homo, aut versus facit" - Horace

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BewareOfTom
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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by BewareOfTom » Mon Aug 13, 2012 7:28 pm

*dead*

(dont have time to write all the fluff all the time :P)
Last edited by BewareOfTom on Tue Aug 14, 2012 10:09 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by IGfanatic » Mon Aug 13, 2012 8:01 pm

Race: Human
Actual Name: Timothy Argus
*Nickname: Bricks or Tim. Depending on the person who is calling his name.
Class: Bodyguard for Governor Fura
Faction: Imperial
*Age: 29
*Goal: Live long enough to retire and keep Miss Fura safe.
*Religious Views: The Emperor Protects...
*Political views: N/A, he gets paid to be a guard, not to help Fura.
Default attitude: Laid back and friendly during down time but when Fura's life is in danger he is demanding, pushy and yelling.
*Likes/Dislikes: Likes: His job, pastries, his pay-cheque. Dislikes: Cultists, Xeno's, crappy alcohol, AI.
*Quirks: He improvises a lot...he rarely follows pre-made plans to get Fura to safety.
*Intelligence: How to clean, shoot and reload most simple fire-arms (up to a las-gun/combat shotgun), fly transport cabs and some aircraft (not Valks/Fighters).
Fears: Getting Fura killed, losing his job.
Strengths: Shooting, carrying a riot shield, being a bodyguard.
Weaknesses: Long-range combat, taking orders.
Armour: Carapace vest covered by a blacktrenchcoat
Weapons: Auto-pistol (right hand), Riot Shield (left hand), flashbang grenades (x3), combat knife.
*Possessions on Person: vox-bead in his ear, sheath inside the trench-coat, small flask with booze inside, many keys to transport vehicles, data-slat that is converted to be worn on his wrist for easy access during combat.
*Hair: none, he is shaved bald
*Eyes: Green/brown
*Distinguishing Features: His left arm is mechanical and can be seen by most people due to him keeping his left arm sleeve rolled up. On the back of his skull is a tattoo of the Imperial Skull with wings in black ink.
*Racial Features: 10 fingers, 10 toes, an appendage between his legs, and a head.

Biography: Timothy grew up as the son of the chief of police on Zerocide and at the age of fifteen was trained to use many of the weapons and vehicles used in his father's profession. Once Timothy reached the age to go to an off world school to become a scholar, or even an Imperial officer he declined and chose to become a police officer like his father.

His father was shot and killed in a deadly shoot-out while protecting a VIP (A commissar) who had landed on the planet and was attacked by local cultists. After that Timothy had dedicated a year to hunting down cultists and slaughtering them in their hide outs. After a while he became bored and felt that he had avenged his father. He became a bodyguard for anyone who had the money and at the age of twenty-six, the Governor Fura was looking for skilled body-guards after attacks on VIP's became more and more frequent. He got the job and in a few short months was the captain of the dozen body guards tasked with protecting Fura where ever she went.

One evening while escorting Fura to a banquet for the P.D.F. Generals birthday, Fura's escort was attacked by cultists. A single cultist was able to smash his way through the car the he and Fura were in. After a few short minutes, Timothy had a vibro-blade tear his bicep and most of his left arm to shreds. He was able to position his auto-pistol and shoot the cultist several times saving both his life and Fura's before passing out from blood loss. As a reward, Fura paid for his mechanical arm and the rest of the guards said "That man must be tough as bricks to continue fighting his a single arm." Some guards started calling him 'Bricks' because of that engagement.
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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Bone2pick » Mon Aug 13, 2012 9:16 pm

Race: Homo Astartes
Actual Name: Battle Brother Poltas
Class: Assault Marine
Faction: Doom Eagles Chapter
*Age: 71
*Goal: To advance through the ranks of his Chapter and bring swift death to those who would wage war on the Imperium.
*Religious Views: A healthy belief in the truth of death, a shared trait of most Doom Eagles.
*Political views: He makes a point of not having any.
Default attitude: Adventurous, challenging, gruff.
*Likes/Dislikes: Likes deep striking & rock climbing: Dislikes anything faster than him.
*Quirks: Blows out jump pack in times of anger and annoyance.
*Intelligence: Advanced combat training, battlefield assessment, Imperial Guard procedures, and knowledge of commonly seen Xenos enemies- Ork/Eldar/Tyranids.
Fears: Fearful (as far as Space Marines can be) of the psychically active, who he always perceives as top threat priority.
Strengths: Aerial jump pack agility and ambush attacks, also ambidextrous
Weaknesses: Prideful, enjoys a chase even when unnecessary
Armour: Mark VI Corvus Power Armor
Weapons: Power axe / Bolt Pistol / Krak Grenades
*Possessions on Person: Auspex
*Hair: Shortly cut & black
*Eyes: Brown
*Distinguishing Features: square jawed with sharp, dark eyebrows
*Racial Features: Average astartes height & weight, dark brown skin with thick knotted muscles.

Biography: He was brought in as an instructor. Zerocide PDF along with stationed Mordian Iron Guardsmen all attended his seminars on ‘hit and run’ strategies and hand to hand combat demonstrations. His company, the Doom Eagles 8th, had selected him for this honored tradition. His four months stretch so far had basically, by his best guess, been the closest thing to a living hell. Removed from the glorious companionship of his Battle Brothers and tossed into the droning buzz of a Hive World, everyday now crawled torturously by. No longer did he fly into war along side fearsome astartes, those passionate days were behind him. Now he poked and gestured at screens & dioramas and unenthusiastically described violent conflicts he had taken part in. But that was before the Hulk came.

Now Brother Poltas suits up for war, and even though his death in the pending battle is almost assured, he does so with relief. Better to die as intended then live outside of your purpose. The words are on his lips as he mentally prepares for it. The battle cry of his Chapter. Dead Already. Dead Already.
Space Marines excel at warfare because they were designed to excel at everything.

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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by jackmrnorris94 » Mon Aug 13, 2012 9:54 pm

Race: Human (Because I've never done that before right? RIGHT?)
Actual Name: Artyom Vsevolod
Nickname: Artyom
Class: Corporal
Faction: Imperial, Zerocide 17th Rifle Division.
Age: 28
Goal: He feels his goal is simple, and to live his life as it is expected and serve as the best soldier possible. For the Imperium or not.
Religious Views: Little to no faith in the Emperor, but he keeps silent.
Political views: None
Default attitude: Cold, Neutral, Unemotional
Likes:Playing guitar, writing notes, cleaning his weapon
Dislikes: People taking advantage of him being mute, people who boast superiority.
Quirks: Tends to draw people he meets, occasional twitching in his eye.
Intelligence: Said by his commanders and acquaintances to have traded his speech for his intelligence. Very calculating, planning, and preserving.
Fears: Dieing without fulfilling his duties as a soldier, being rejected from service due to his disabilities.
Strengths: Marksman, Hand to hand expert, in combat he operates more as a machine then a man.
Weaknesses: Weak socially for apparent reasons, if allowed his emotions can be easily toyed with.
Armour: Light and dark brown camouflaged great coat, Brown ragged scarf, Ballistic goggles, Brown cargo pants, multiple magazine pouches, Combat boots.
Weapons: An Autogun optimized for long range, Semi-automatic bolt pistol(Pretty much a Colt1911).
Possessions on Person: An acoustic guitar, Spade, Backpack, canteen, a couple days rations, note pad.
Hair: Short, black, well kept.
Eyes: Cold Dark Blue
Distinguishing Features: Mute, Silent in his actions, tall figure, ashen and dirty skin.
Racial Features: Not entirely sure what to put here.


Biography:

Born an orphan Artyom never really had a home. Swapping from one foster family to another. Running away at the young age of thirteen, he lived on the the streets and in the back alleys of Zerocide Major, barely being able to survive in the harsh conditions. Until one day, at the age of fifteen he ran into an officer of the Zerocide Major garrison force, who saw much potential in the boy before him. Before Artyom knew it he found himself training for the Imperial Guard, excelling at every turn, and exceeding all expectations, he came out as the leader of his training class. After four years of rigorous training in the arctic and urban conditions of Zerocide, Artyom was assigned to the 17th Rifle Division, which at the time was tasked with quelling revolts in a large town bordering Zerocide Major. Although the threat was small the colony, the revolt quickly turned into a full blown insurgency after a year of effort by the 17th Rifle Division to end the violent revolts. Finally an order was given to storm the town, beginning a three year battle, fought tooth and nail by the ten thousand professional soldiers of the 17th Rifles, and an untold amount of insurrectionists.

During the final battle for one of the towns electrical stations, Artyom and his unit were lead into extremely tight electrical maintenance corridors, finally making it into a large more open room in the tunnel system, they were surrounded and attacked from all sides, even from above and below. For a constant eight hours they were besieged under a constant hail of fire by an insurrectionist ambush. Claiming the lives of Artyom's entire unit. Continuing for eight more hours on his own in the room, he fought off every enemy that attempted to enter, killing without a moments hesitation, he became almost an animal in the cramped, bloody and ravaging conditions. Finally a friendly squadron burst into the room, finding Artyom, gun leveled with their heads, surrounded by his dead comrades, and literal piles of insurrectionists in the rooms many entrances.

From that point forward, Artyom has never spoken a word. And continued to fight against the insurrection until the rebellion was finally crushed. From that point forward the 17th Rifle Division is viewed as almost heroes for their actions against the rebellion, and their reconstruction efforts after it had been beaten. The Division now serves as a garrison force in Zerocide Major, often it's units being placed in areas of high importance and strategic value. Artyom himself is experiencing something very similar to his early life. Being assigned and reassigned to multiple units for short about of times. He grows close to pretty much nobody, and rarely stays in the same place for over a month. But now with the state of emergency Zerocide has entered, and being noted for his service during the Insurgency, Artyom has been ordered to take up position in front of the Governor's Palace. A solitary position, he stands at his post strumming his guitar and taking notes on anything he seems fit. Simply waiting for his chance to kill.

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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by jackmrnorris94 » Tue Aug 14, 2012 4:30 am

Artyom sat atop a stone post of the front gate to the palace stairs, strumming his guitar and ignoring the rushing crowds in front of him. Taking care as he transitioned from one tune to another, time had almost stopped for him as the world was beginning to spiral into chaos around him. Heavy Vehicle convoys rushed by, a sea of people, civilian and soldier swayed before him. Crying, screaming, laughing, sobbing, was all tuned out to him as he strummed on his guitar. It was one of two things he knew could bring him peace. The front had become worn and tired, the neck now pieced together with the necks of various other guitars, the strings had become old and tiring. But still the guitar sounded beautiful in Artyom's hands, sometimes a small number would even stop and listen to his tunes as he sat alone in front of the formidable palace. Like a stone gargoyle in voice and expression, his hands moved gracefully over the weary instrument as it sounded out various tunes of joy, triumph, sadness, grief, and anger.

But today there was no crowd. Not a single soul had even really taken notice to the "Stone Man" as he played his songs. But this didn't bother him. Not in the slightest. He cared not for his fans, or the people who stopped and listened. They did it on their own time not his. And crowd or not, he would be playing his songs, as always. He hung his head low over his guitar, and closed his eyes as he let the music flow from his head and into his fingers, projecting into the ocean of chaos before him. He took deep breaths as he played, some saying he even smiled as he played. Whether it be true or not, he felt at peace when he played his guitar. Weightless, light, and calm as the tunes rebounded into the crowds.

"The Lone Stone Man" he had been named in recent days by his on lookers. "The Lone Stone Man". The Palace Guardsmen having retreated into the Palace itself to better protect their Governor, and having received not a single order to do the same. Artyom stood his ground. And "The Lone Stone Man" he became. With not a care in the world but his guitar and the rifle over his shoulder.

He enjoyed the silence being alone brought him. Having no orders. Having no Squad. Having not a single true comrade. It had it's benefits, he mused in his mind as he transitioned from a solemn tune to one with a more grim sound. He enjoyed some of the sadder songs, just for their sounds and potential meanings locked inside of them.

Taking in another deep breath he opened his eyes, and to his surprise, the ends of two boots entered the top of his vision. Slowly he raised his eyes upon a figure standing before him. A woman, young, well built, a pretty face, long black hair, and a similar outfit to his. A long greatcoat of the same colors, a rifle at rest over her chest and a ear padded rifleman's cap fit firmly onto her head. She stared at Artyom, a light expression and an innocent look in her eyes, she looked surprised as Artyom locked eyes with her. Artyom's hands slowed to a stop on his guitar which he slowly slumped into his lap, simultaneously raising an eyebrow at the woman before him.

She inched closer with her steps, looking uneasy as she stood before him.

"Hi..." She said nervously, "My name's Specialist Malin Yermolov. I've been assigned to, 17th Rifle Division, Third Battalion, Second company, Second Platoon, Sixth Squadron..." She paused wondering if she had gotten all of her words correctly, then continued, "Would you um... have any idea where that is... sir?"

Artyom froze. He thought he had been completely forgotten by the chains of command, but now this Malin was saying she had been assigned to his "Squadron". He slipped a hand into his pocket as Malin nervously watched, retrieving a piece of paper and pencil, he leaned against his guitar writing...

You've found it.

He passed it to Malin who now wore a confused look on her face, "And where's the rest of the squadron?"

Artyom put his hand forward for the note pad, tapping his middle finger on his thumb as to signify for Malin to pass it down to him. She understood placing the pad into Artyom's hand, who quickly handed it back reading...

You're looking at it.

The look on her face switched from confusion into concern, sceptically she asked, "What's with the note pad?"

Again she handed it back to him, and he quickly handed it back, Artyom's face had gone to one of slight curiosity and slid back into his usual stone expression...

I'm mute.

Malin's jaw slightly dropped as she read his note, lowering the pad it she looked to Artyom sympathetically, "I'm... I'm so sorry." She stuttered holding out the note pad before herself. Artyom taking it gently from her hand he motioned her to sit on the other stone end of the gate. She nodded and took her seat not ten feet away from "The Stone Man", placing her rifle between her knees.

And slowly Artyom's bitter sweet songs began to flow again from his seat and back into the chaos before the two. Malin leaned back and began to hum along with Artyom's tunes in an almost perfect pitch, having heard the songs before. Artyom didn't mind in the slightest, if anything he enjoyed the voice to go along with that of his guitar. The two sang their songs together, throat and instrument in unison as the world spiraled downward around them. And Artyom again hung his head over his guitar, and closed his eyes. His breaths and heart slowing as his fingers danced upon the worn wood and tired strings. And "The Lone Stone Man" had just became, "The Stone Man".


(Don't care if double post, kind of just wanted to write because I really like this character.)

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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Jason » Tue Aug 14, 2012 5:42 am

The distress calls that the beacon from Zerocide were wailing across the warp were soon received by the Imperial Navy. They began a systematic calculation of which fleets were most suited for the coming and possible threats that the Zerocide distress was warning of. Within those columns and data spreads the most suitable fleets were organized, and then chosen were the nearest to the system. Of the possibilities, the 501st were the closest, but the 72nd Interceptor fleet was a close second, and would make it to the system’s space within a two solar days. The 501st would be there within the hour. When the news of the distress beacon was relayed down to the fleet commands, Captain Richard Brock was flying through the corridors of his sections bunk rooms, pants half done up and waving his free arm about wildly as he roused the crew and pilots from their beds. None of the administrators upon the Guardians cruiser bothered to wake or even inform the pilots that they had entered the warp and were less than two hours from their destination. The cruisers deck hands and crew watched as the sleepy eyed and barely awake pilots and hangar crew stumbled across the gangways and boardwalks of the vast flying vessel, many requiring liberal use of handrails to get to their destinations. With the cruisers’ first mate “encouraging” the pilots and crew on as they stumbled and hopped one-leg-in-pants towards the hangars, some could hear the laughing of the cruiser deck hands giggling and laughing as these miscreants and ne’er-do-well’s shambled down steps and across the gangways in a hurried mess.

Once they all were awake, Richard began his own maddened descent towards the hangar, quickly and messily trying to tuck in his uniform, put on a belt and jab his foot into a boot he found along the way after his own fell off. Skidding to avoid running into a wall, rounded a hallway corner and ran through the gaping hangar doors to see his ad-hoc crew and squadron assembled in front of a disappointed and stern looking command entourage. He ran down the gangway and down some steps towards the large group, his loose and mismatched boot clanging loudly as he made his way as quick as he could. Still tucking the left side of his uniform into his mis-looped belt loops he shook the Admiral’s hand, who gave a mild look of disgust and gave it a quick shake in the air.

“Sky Captain Richard Brock, leader of the Mortis 501st’s Guardian squadron ready and willing Sir.” Richard replied with his usual tone of mild sarcasm and sincerity.

“It seems you are missing someone, Captain.” The Admiral replied, raising an eyebrow at the missing head in the neat ranks that were made in front of him.

Richard quickly turned around, still adjusting his uniform as he scanned the lines, his brain registering a strange blip of information, and he instantly knew who was missing. Just as he was about to turn around and explain why this person shouldn’t be chastised, a lone figure waltzed up from behind the Admiral and his entourage, striding around like he owned the place.

Richard smacked his face as he saw First Mechanic Maurice “Cookie” Biskite strut up to the Admiral, covered in grease and mechanical fluids, waving a spanner around.

“Morn’ to ya Admiral!” Cookie blurted, loosely saluting and turning to face him.

Richard looked on in slight fear, but mainly interest, he was very curious to see who really ran this vessel.

“First Mechanic Biskite, not only are you tardy, you are unfit for presentation... as with the rest of your detachment... and you are blatantly rude to a superior officer. I should have you imprisoned and shipped off to a penal division for all your insubordination!” The Admiral puffed, clearly red in the face.

Cookie eyed him up and down for a second with one eye closed, and stepped up to the Admiral, puffed out his chest and gave him a few good jabs in the chest with the spanner he was carrying, smearing oil all over the Admirals perfectly kept uniform.

“Now lissen here Admiral, you may be the boss ov’ this ‘ere bucket, but I’M the one ‘hoo keeps her sailin’! Now shut yer gob and give the boys therr’ orders ‘lready!” Cookie finished his rant with a swift nod of self approval.

The Admiral looked furious, and raised his hand and opened his mouth to speak when Cookie interrupted.

“’An ‘hoo’s gonna fix ‘yer caffeine watsa-majig if I’m gone eh?”

The Admiral steamed for a moment, and just shot an angry glare at Cookie before beginning his briefing to this rabble.

“You are to be stationed in high orbit around Zerocide major, a hive world moon orbiting the frozen planetoid beneath it. Be combat ready in on hour, I expect you all to perform as well as the transfer doctrines have said you have.” The Admiral finished, and began to walk away.

Somewhere in the crowd a voice piped up;

“But who are we fighting?”

The Admiral didn’t lose a step as the doors slammed shut behind him, and Richard looked on to his crew and merely shouted;

“Well?!” with a raised eyebrow and a look of desperation.

With that, the shambled mess of the Guardian squadron began to function as a half broken, mis-matched, but well oiled machine.
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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Cthulu Mechanicus » Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:58 am

Finally found this post. Ignore it too.
Last edited by Cthulu Mechanicus on Thu Aug 23, 2012 7:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
A Luna: Best reply ... ever.

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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Bone2pick » Tue Aug 14, 2012 9:23 am

Oil glistened off the silver of his pauldron. His squire moved the damp cloth with practiced efficiency across its convex surface, sliding it into the cracks of the Mark VI suit to thoroughly clean and polish the battle armor. The quality of her labors being confirmed by her reflection flashing back her working figure. Chichi smiled.

“You look beautiful my lord.”

Poltas looked over his beaked helm for trouble spots as his squire’s words passed by him without notice. Satisfied with its appearance he mag-locked the helm to his thigh.

“Do you have your transport?”

“I have the buggy.”

Chichi bounded down from her step ladder and gracefully plucked the power axe from its perch in the weapons rack. She took its weight close to her body & inspected its condition before presenting it to her master. Poltas’ right hand clinched its hand wraps and lifted the blade up into the light.

“Good. You will take the remaining munitions and fuel to the Adeptus Arbite spire east of here. They will give you shelter as my squire.”

Chichi nodded her head all the while checking each pistol clip to make sure they were fully loaded with reactive rounds. After each verification she handed them off to Poltas who tucked them away.

“And where will you be headed off to Lord?”

The Battle Brother snapped a hard clip into his Bolt pistol and stared down its open sights. As expected, the weapon was in perfect alignment.

“Its unclear where I’ll be needed, but I’ll start by checking in with Captain Ortor.”

“The Mordian Captain.” Chichi confirmed. “Good to know in case we lose contact.”

His squire once again scaled the step ladder and reverently finished the last detail. Her hands spread black wax onto the corner of his pauldron, and she pressed the stamp firmly securing it. The purity seal hung proudly on Battle Brother Poltas.

The marine turned and faced his squire, the two nearly eye to eye because of the ladder. His sharp, black eyebrows showing a mixed feeling. Possibly concern?

“If the Arbite spire is falling do not hesitate, flee to the Mechanicum’s arcology. It’s heavily guarded and it will stand until the end.”

Chichi bowed her head and smiled.

“Of course my lord.”

Poltas cleared his throat uncomfortably to get the next words out.

“You’ve been a great help. I’m not sure how I would have managed with someone less competent.”

Chichi bounded down from the ladder with enthusiasm and saluted the Aquila with a smile.

“My lord, you flatter me.” She winked.

And the gruff Doom Eagle let slip his own smile in return.
Space Marines excel at warfare because they were designed to excel at everything.

-Primarch Roboute Guilliman

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Re: Saving Zerocide: RP Content

Post by Jayertheslayer » Tue Aug 14, 2012 10:05 am

"WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!"

583's eyes snapped open to a flurry of thirsty flames and devastating blazes. Endless amounts of screaming ran straight through him as a constraint world of orange and metal was dumped right before him. To his sides brothers began awaking just as he was, a bunch of fresh newborn lights absorbing the fatal danger that laid around them.

"IMPACT IN 60 SECONDS!"

Feeling several things detach from each segment of his well built body the hardy and imprisoning weight preventing his freedom faded away into sudden nothingness. Hoisting himself out of his metallic womb he noticed the same actions being mimicked by his fellow family, something was telling them that they needed to escape their fiery fortress. Stepping forward into an incredibly narrow gap between that of his comforting chamber and a curious looking wall equipped with numerous flashing buttons and blaring sirens. But one thing in particular caught the Necron's attention, a thin stick of rounded metal poking out beside the colourful wall.

"IMPACT IN 35 SECONDS!"

"..pull it.."

Without questioning the faint yet commanding voice his shuddering hand flew forward wrapping delicate fingers around its silky surface. In one graceful move the lever rushed down and the large already-colourful wall vanished right in front of him revealing something even fresher and much more wonderful. An array of sparkling glory shined into a sun-starved face and being a new and curious mind, he jumped for it.

Outside he was surrounded by everything undiscovered which made him squeal with immense delight, but as he turned around to see his fellow brothers joining him there was nothing but an inferno of warm fires and melting metals, a falling fireball with all but one walls remaining.
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