Post by Deleted on Sept 22, 2023 7:20:13 GMT
Sörry for the clickbaity title, but Adventures in Roleplay is catchier then TTRPG-War Stories.
This ain't a shitpost, on the contrary. It is a V.S.C.
Well this should be a thread of stories from user's TTRPG experiences. They can differ quite a bit.
My story started over 11 months ago. During cövid I really got into RPG's. So I found a group on ventrillo and started a campaign that went sideways in more ways than I anticipated.
This is the written account on account of me, about a group of six players whose characters challenged the boarders of good behaviour.
It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries The Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.
Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse.
To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.
Now the introduction of the players:
We got a Noise Marine of the third Legion twice removed;
a fallen Blood Angel Librarian who is very well-read;
a Forsaken Nightlord whose nihilistic tendences will leave you quite shaken;
a World Eater Veteran of the Long War, whose hatred, is a feeling quite trve...
oh and last but not least two folks from the world of men.
A Heretek from Mars and a Plaguemeister from somewhere.
I vent to the players that this will be a fox hunt. As you can see every one of the characters is from a different group or chapter. It would be
quite easy to sow unrest.
It is also a kind of West Marches campaign. From their point of view they are in control and I sometimes spectate and narrate, aside from the odd dice roll challenges.
We took several month to get to End Game, and it was an hell of a ride.
All of them arrive from a Space Hulk in a system in the screaming vortex. The planet is called Nonus Refertia and has seen quite a bit of warfare.
Tyranid invasions and following orbital bombardment left only the two polar regions inhabitible.
The group who has no name up to this point find a drop pod. The heretek takes charge and all of them make their way to the surface.
Well mostly all; the Noise Marine was in his cups and missed the launch.
'Really funny guys. Pulled a fast one on me'
'I guess I take the scening route.'
5 Crusaders are slowly approaching the north their vox receivers are getting some Wilhem Screams and loads of 56s.
The drop pod lands in the northern pole lands.
While half asleep during the intro our 5 crusaders, (who are fighting the good fight) are getting to know each other.
The Heretek is actually a cog-person. All guess they are a dude, but that is because they wear light power armor. 4 Mechadendrites are produding from their back. And since they are ambidextrous (even the 6 limbs [minus the 2 bipedal 1s for walking it off]), engineseering is easy as 3.
The fallen Blood Angel finds it wildly interesting and writes everything down. The World Eater and the Forsaken Nightlord seem to know each other from somewhere, like a match thrown into a Warp Storm.
The Plaguemeister is dropping a knowledge bomb:
'I got the full mission briefing during our drop from sky.'
'We know what to do, sow unrest like always' said the Night Lord and World Eater at once.
'That's actually only half the truth. We are after an artifact called the Obsidian Stool!'
'The obsidian stool?!' asked the cog person.
'Yeah in time immemorial there were two. The Golden Throne for Big E., and the Obsidian Stool.'
'What does it do?' wondered the librarian.
'It let's you sit on it -- and then bestowes the power of Horus into your ass.'
'3ing 1'
'5'
All these was casted in the group's vox channel. But the noise marine was trying to savely land using a only a jump pack.
In his mind theatre I casted the following image.
After some more Wilhelm Screams followed by 333 well I for 1 was quite amused.
Though mean a fox game has high stakes.
He arrived at a train station. The only one at the terminator. He could go south or to the north. Unfortunately the vox link got lost somewhere and he tossed a coin.
'South it is.'
It was not an empty train, one passenger told him a story.
'That's all quite nice, but I have to catch up with my Warband-- uhm I mean chapter. Definetly chapter.'
'Was nice knowing you, I mean getting to know you-- Do you have a name?'
'Yes.'
Like all modern stories I played with all six of them, together but It was really fun to split the group.
Nobody got hurt. Only tomfoolery of the second level.
Nonus Refertia has a 72h day night cycle. This will play some part later.
To pass the time the Noise Marine invented a game. He tried to test the
limits of his Astartes Organs.
I will refer to this as the derailing trainwreck Episode.
For science I put a little something together. disconnects and timeouts made me do this:
The guy who made us believe he was Edward Forty Hands
Or in the voice of the Noise Marine after he got back in the vox channel (must have stolen a vox link on the train):
'Is something on tv?'
'Soap operas -- I like the soda commercials they put in the breaks.'
'Baking or wash?'
'Both never can have enough Soda.'
Toilet duck mixes well with soda. The bubbles almost make it edible. [in]The things you know.[/i]
'What did you eat last night?'
'After some paint thinner, I thought about pasta. There was a boxed container with soylent veridian, but I was more in the mood of sugar so I put the noodles in instant custard.'
'Nice, though a bit spooky that it worked.'
'Yeah my stomach is creeping me out. I got belches something fierce.'
'Creepy pasta is a strange name for a dish.'
'And what about dessert?'
'I stole a danish from the dining car'
'Did it taste better or worse than your creepy pasta?'
'Technically it was illegal to steal, so better.'
That was when our ventrillo group really got into Katy Perry lyrics. Well not really but if you are not on the spectrum you should find sarcasm without an emoji telling you.
There where some holidays in between in our real lives, so we took a short break from venting our game.
Mostly they did ground work, nothing out of the ordinary. I will take the time to describe both settlements.
Northern Pole Land had a capital called New Barlinek. They were ruled by elitists who took the Project Black Crusade almost over by trying to paint all characters power armors red.
But the 5 groupies were better than that and cut them loose. They found a nice Garage in the lower hive as a base of operation.
Architecture was Göthic as 3. All of them got new paint jobs in ultra marine blue. That suited them just fine since after radiation poisoning from the anti-nid bombardment,
they were quite colorblind in New Barlinek. The only spectrium they could percieve was red, white and blue.
Meanwhile on the other side of the planet, the Noise Marine stumbled into mild problems. An Arbites who took the law into his own giving hands.
'I am the law.'
'Hello Marshall Law.'
'Oh you are a funny little rapscallion ain't yah.?'
'I just got here. My train got almost derailed.'
'Do you know anything about a sky diving Astartes?'
'How should I, do you see a jump pack on my back?'
'I got me eyes on ya. Name's Skilly the Twit -- fasted shot in the south.'
'Mr. twit what is this place called?'
'You are in the lone star state. The pollution and fallout makes us see only one star. Our own.'
'Thank you Skilly you've been most helpful.'
The Noise Marine was having doubts. How should he get back to the rest of the warband? Why was everyone here a twit? He found some dark green paint, and since he had an ancient Pig Nose Helmet
he would pass as a Dark Angel. Who knows all the Astartes colors anyway? It's not in the lore for sure.
The Cog Person used their heretic skills to find a white board. There were some papers there which must have been left for some time. A list of things were on them.
All of them were refered to somebody named Craig. The Blood Angel knew it. Every backwater in the Screaming Vortex has a 'Craig's List'
By the power of the omnissiah they established a secure channel to the lone star southerners and it didn't take long to locate a giant, pig nosed marine who still smelled slightly like toilet duck.
All together came up with a plan:
-to find the Obsidian Stool they couldn't work together but had to make allies in the local populace. An old Cogitator in the Lone Star Shed and the slightly newer one in New Barlinek would have to do.
-the Noise Marine was making contact at the Saloon, called the 'Seedy Gene's Haberdashery' it also had a 'Craig's List'. The both were connected through landlines.
-The World Eater and the Night Lord had plan's of there own. Withouth foreshadowing too much --nothing good.
-the Blood Angel was strangely at ease in his new colors
Cog person had to find out for their self. What would Craig's list do and who could they trust.
In the underhive, they found a bar, in the bar they found a ladder, at the bottom of the ladder there was a small blinking light. An old servitor lost and forgotten.
Well a Heretek could go far with something like this.
Vox channel from somewhere planetside.
'I got jammed'
'How can you tell?'
'I push the trigger button and shit ain't happening.'
'Gotta pull dem trigger not push.'
'But it won't stay down.'
The trigger button push it and something awesome happens.
Remember, the gambling passenger put a tarot card in his pocket during the derailing train ride. It showed temperance on öne side and the fool on the öther. On further examination there was writing on it:
'Trevor's Axiom'
'Well it sure isn't an ace of spades, but maybe söme büddy on 'Craig's List' will give me some Thröngeld for it.'
He put the trading card on Craig's List. It was listed for 340 Throngeld. Plus 70 for shipping it, it almost got shipped double. After advertising fees he got 270 out of it.
The message of the happy buyer was the following.
The leading horse is white.
The second horse is red.
The third one is a black.
The last one is a green.
-Herb4Twenties
Well if Herb is happy with Trevor's Axiom all the better. Though the song lyrics are kinda strange, thought the Noise Marine.
He liked electronic pop music way more than classics from the dark age of technology:
Though he never figured out how you bluff with your muffin.
/spoiler]
Enough of Mr. Noise Marine for now. There are more characters to get played in the story. And the villains haven't even arrived yet.
The obvious Blood Angel wrote about the Heretek's struggle to make the servitor worked:
'Cogperson is doing all she can, but the servitor was damaged beyond repair. All she could do was giving his machine spirit binary commands like:
"Bleep, bloop, bleep."
'Maybe a Warpsmith could help, but the warp traffic is always jammed arround here. I'll try to put my scripture knowledge to good use.'
And so he did. Together they installed a basic profanity filter in the servitor. A calculator was jury rigged into his addled brain, and through several serial drama's he learnt the gist of low gothic.
They named him Shell, because that what he was. An empty shell of the combat servitor he dreamed to be.
In the northern polar region he took over advertising the door of a red brick house. It was all he was good for. Pict screens to this day show him advertising a black door. Nobody ever told him that the
building behind it was as empty as his sense of humour.
Sometimes plebs threw rubber balls at him 4 at a time, but they bounced off our calculating Bouncer.
The angry one and the one who doesn't believe in gods were recruiting like crazy by now.
They got out of their Power Armor and acted as half-ogryns.
Lowlife's from every corner where biting their message. We need the stool, and the northern pole region's capital hive will gonna pay for it.
This is the end of ACT I
To sum up a very long story I will paraphrase ACT II, end game is coming fast after this.
Act II
Pasta is a dish best served cold. - Old Space Wolf Proverb.
The noise marine finally found something useful, an old copy writer had been hoarding calendars. Like from 150 terra standard years. All had proverbs on it.
He put them in his dufflebag and searched the wasteland for a ride.
A few kloms away a salamander was parked in a ditch. Backpack safely in the salamander he set out to the north, by going so far south that he ended up on top;
I mean in the northern polar region.
To his surprise there were magazines to keep him occupied. All had the words: Property of Fenric Jurgen im them. Aside from loads of edgy picts they were rather
blank. No surprise.
Two whole days later or 2 times 72 he arrived in New ... and did some doughnuts to announce his fellow warbanders that he got just in time. By now they have
given themselves a name:
The Oddballs
It was a pun orchestrated by the Plaguemeister. The only person without a proper Power Armor. His Solar Auxillary suit was on par with a light power armor,
but much less bulky. From the inside it was immaculate, the outside showed heavy red stains on the now blue painting.
His helmet hung on the shoulders as the Noise Marine arrived. Shaking his glorious, locks raven black, and just the right amount of grease in it he greated him:
'Hey Pig nose. That took you a while to get here.'
'Hey, hey slow, down I'm under a lot of stress from the 144h of driving, straigt through a toxic wasteland.'
High 5 everyone.
Plaguemeister's tech use was off the roof. His skills in spamming Craig's List got him a cult following that rivaled any other secret cult.
But being at good humour all the time, it was just what the Oddballs needed. No shots where fired until now, but this would change.
Up above the Ultra Marines had send a Recon Team, to look up what's what.
Being veterans of countless nid invasions, the high vox traffic had caught their attention. Well all except the Noise Marine was posing in blue colors, at least
he could use his deception skill without disadvantage.
The Heretek had served with Astartes prior to being expelled from Mars, so they actually got a plus 40 modifier.
It seemed the Ultra Marines weren't very into tech so their astra telepatic message got the Space Wolf Chapter instead.
Being always Hungry for action, three full battle cruisers departed to the ... planet.
But there were no tyranids, or where there. My d2 said they were located in one of the two big hives. The players had to find out which one.
50:50
Well ditching the Noise Marine by going southern on him was maybe the reason I took their chances to a level playing field.
Good for them media also arrived with the Recon Team and all and every one and y'all was into the story of the Oddballs and their quest to get more
followers.
Back in their Power armors again the slightly newer cogitator was shared on at least 6 screens. Keys were hammered and archives raided. Craig's List was getting
dust and cobwebs on the not so white board.
The plaguemeister bonded with the two Astartes of old. Their plan to spam Craig's List with archive bombs was getting into motion and Ultra Marines where just
knocking on the door when all was well again.
Cog Person greeted the recon team with a linguar only intelligible by them.
She rolled a zero and a 1 with her double d10s.
For their crit in deception I awarded them with a tap on the head. Many signs of the aquilla later the blue recons left, but the Chapter from Loki
was on their way. They needed no reason to invade a Planet. Nid's and cultist go always hand in hand. Even they had heard of genestealer cults. But were they in the north
or down south? This is why secret rolls exist.
The team got back to work after the encounter with the astartes.
To get to the bottom while staying on top they knew unrest wouldn't do. Two hives host to many witnesses and their quest for The Obsidian Stool
His unique view of matters written, driven by his Prince of Chaos patron, he should check all the archives and yell really loud using his psonic blaster when
he finds anything which is at odds with the imperial doctrine.
After several taurin and recaf flavoured sodas, more lho sticks than breathable air and the ocasional amasec bottle or 7
(now that toilet duck and paint thinner weren't in high demand), he found many odd stuff.
So his curious mind lead him to the List of Craig. He still had the calendar data. Scores of them. Using the very slow Cogitator he scanned and searched the whole List of Craig.
What he found was odd, strange, and alien.
The Cogperson was in contact with a gal named Anatis Pulmenti. Both made fun of Noise Marines and him in particular.
There was a whole group of false contacts. All were in league with the Plaguemeister.
His cult was growing even without actual persons buying something.
So he rolled on forbidden knowledge and scored a 3ing 04. Crit where crit is due.
I told him that Tzeentch must be behind at least some of the changes. His numbers checked out on every one of the profiles. Rubric Marines every one of them.
He must found them in the toxic wasteland between the poles. Dust to dust and so on. Well the Noise Marine was more then a little 2ed.
So he took to a plan. A printer and some glue would make all of the calendar lore into actual bumper stickers. He would stick it to the Plaguemeister, one way or the other.
For being so perceptive and getting mad I let him roll on the corruption scale.
56
That means pseudo daemon, Slaanesh means Daemonette.
Wouldn't do. A 7 feet tall astartes person with the body of a daemonette bad idea. Well the other players were quite okay with it, but I thought since the knowledge
came from the changer of ways, the prince of cryptic answers, the transformation should be equally maze-like.
Pink Horror it is. Since the rule book isn't too draconic, and TTRPGs are to have fun, he was only Horror inspired and not full blown this
So rather than making him a total Krank, voice and all.
I gave him a pink mush of a face. Blue eyes for the blue horror clones that would be spawned. And since he smoked so many lho-sticks during research he was a bit
sooty. To sum it up
a mush of a face and black and blue all over.
Daemonette would be kinda normal-- this suited him right to get into the way of Tzeentch's Oddballs.
-Interlude-
The Blood Angel put some music on for the coming Battles
Our Noise Marine was more in this mood
They decided to use this instead
________________________________________________________________________
The game to end all games:
At this part all players ragequit. Quite a shame the game was going so well.
This ain't a shitpost, on the contrary. It is a V.S.C.
Well this should be a thread of stories from user's TTRPG experiences. They can differ quite a bit.
My story started over 11 months ago. During cövid I really got into RPG's. So I found a group on ventrillo and started a campaign that went sideways in more ways than I anticipated.
This is the written account on account of me, about a group of six players whose characters challenged the boarders of good behaviour.
I will use these quite a often: I know I know, fibre is everywhere, but phone's aren't always so lucky.
therefore, a spoiler tag for every picture we painted. Sometimes it will have actual spoiler reasons.
therefore, a spoiler tag for every picture we painted. Sometimes it will have actual spoiler reasons.
It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries The Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.
Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse.
To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.
Now the introduction of the players:
We got a Noise Marine of the third Legion twice removed;
a fallen Blood Angel Librarian who is very well-read;
a Forsaken Nightlord whose nihilistic tendences will leave you quite shaken;
a World Eater Veteran of the Long War, whose hatred, is a feeling quite trve...
oh and last but not least two folks from the world of men.
A Heretek from Mars and a Plaguemeister from somewhere.
I vent to the players that this will be a fox hunt. As you can see every one of the characters is from a different group or chapter. It would be
quite easy to sow unrest.
It is also a kind of West Marches campaign. From their point of view they are in control and I sometimes spectate and narrate, aside from the odd dice roll challenges.
We took several month to get to End Game, and it was an hell of a ride.
All of them arrive from a Space Hulk in a system in the screaming vortex. The planet is called Nonus Refertia and has seen quite a bit of warfare.
Tyranid invasions and following orbital bombardment left only the two polar regions inhabitible.
The group who has no name up to this point find a drop pod. The heretek takes charge and all of them make their way to the surface.
Well mostly all; the Noise Marine was in his cups and missed the launch.
'Really funny guys. Pulled a fast one on me'
'I guess I take the scening route.'
5 Crusaders are slowly approaching the north their vox receivers are getting some Wilhem Screams and loads of 56s.
The drop pod lands in the northern pole lands.
This is a good time for explaining the numbers that will follow. For not breaking a N.S.F.W environment I got the idea to use Georgius Carlinius Manual for a friendly Conversation a.k.a. 'The seven heretic words': Unfortunately it is considered heresy and cannot be found by googling it -- Oh wait.
While half asleep during the intro our 5 crusaders, (who are fighting the good fight) are getting to know each other.
The Heretek is actually a cog-person. All guess they are a dude, but that is because they wear light power armor. 4 Mechadendrites are produding from their back. And since they are ambidextrous (even the 6 limbs [minus the 2 bipedal 1s for walking it off]), engineseering is easy as 3.
The fallen Blood Angel finds it wildly interesting and writes everything down. The World Eater and the Forsaken Nightlord seem to know each other from somewhere, like a match thrown into a Warp Storm.
The Plaguemeister is dropping a knowledge bomb:
'I got the full mission briefing during our drop from sky.'
'We know what to do, sow unrest like always' said the Night Lord and World Eater at once.
'That's actually only half the truth. We are after an artifact called the Obsidian Stool!'
'The obsidian stool?!' asked the cog person.
'Yeah in time immemorial there were two. The Golden Throne for Big E., and the Obsidian Stool.'
'What does it do?' wondered the librarian.
'It let's you sit on it -- and then bestowes the power of Horus into your ass.'
'3ing 1'
'5'
All these was casted in the group's vox channel. But the noise marine was trying to savely land using a only a jump pack.
In his mind theatre I casted the following image.
After some more Wilhelm Screams followed by 333 well I for 1 was quite amused.
Though mean a fox game has high stakes.
He arrived at a train station. The only one at the terminator. He could go south or to the north. Unfortunately the vox link got lost somewhere and he tossed a coin.
'South it is.'
It was not an empty train, one passenger told him a story.
'That's all quite nice, but I have to catch up with my Warband-- uhm I mean chapter. Definetly chapter.'
'Was nice knowing you, I mean getting to know you-- Do you have a name?'
'Yes.'
Like all modern stories I played with all six of them, together but It was really fun to split the group.
Nobody got hurt. Only tomfoolery of the second level.
Nonus Refertia has a 72h day night cycle. This will play some part later.
To pass the time the Noise Marine invented a game. He tried to test the
limits of his Astartes Organs.
I will refer to this as the derailing trainwreck Episode.
For science I put a little something together. disconnects and timeouts made me do this:
Gary 'The Unmodded' King's 12 stages of intoxication.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12 This and that.
And of course the professional level. Beyond even godlike.
He helped Leo through his first hangover
[img src="media.tenor.com/7_6SE-1lyT0AAAAd/johnny-depp.gif"]
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12 This and that.
And of course the professional level. Beyond even godlike.
He helped Leo through his first hangover
[img src="media.tenor.com/7_6SE-1lyT0AAAAd/johnny-depp.gif"]
The guy who made us believe he was Edward Forty Hands
Or in the voice of the Noise Marine after he got back in the vox channel (must have stolen a vox link on the train):
'Is something on tv?'
'Soap operas -- I like the soda commercials they put in the breaks.'
'Baking or wash?'
'Both never can have enough Soda.'
Toilet duck mixes well with soda. The bubbles almost make it edible. [in]The things you know.[/i]
'What did you eat last night?'
'After some paint thinner, I thought about pasta. There was a boxed container with soylent veridian, but I was more in the mood of sugar so I put the noodles in instant custard.'
'Nice, though a bit spooky that it worked.'
'Yeah my stomach is creeping me out. I got belches something fierce.'
'Creepy pasta is a strange name for a dish.'
'And what about dessert?'
'I stole a danish from the dining car'
'Did it taste better or worse than your creepy pasta?'
'Technically it was illegal to steal, so better.'
That was when our ventrillo group really got into Katy Perry lyrics. Well not really but if you are not on the spectrum you should find sarcasm without an emoji telling you.
There where some holidays in between in our real lives, so we took a short break from venting our game.
Mostly they did ground work, nothing out of the ordinary. I will take the time to describe both settlements.
Northern Pole Land had a capital called New Barlinek. They were ruled by elitists who took the Project Black Crusade almost over by trying to paint all characters power armors red.
But the 5 groupies were better than that and cut them loose. They found a nice Garage in the lower hive as a base of operation.
Architecture was Göthic as 3. All of them got new paint jobs in ultra marine blue. That suited them just fine since after radiation poisoning from the anti-nid bombardment,
they were quite colorblind in New Barlinek. The only spectrium they could percieve was red, white and blue.
Meanwhile on the other side of the planet, the Noise Marine stumbled into mild problems. An Arbites who took the law into his own giving hands.
'I am the law.'
'Hello Marshall Law.'
'Oh you are a funny little rapscallion ain't yah.?'
'I just got here. My train got almost derailed.'
'Do you know anything about a sky diving Astartes?'
'How should I, do you see a jump pack on my back?'
'I got me eyes on ya. Name's Skilly the Twit -- fasted shot in the south.'
'Mr. twit what is this place called?'
'You are in the lone star state. The pollution and fallout makes us see only one star. Our own.'
'Thank you Skilly you've been most helpful.'
The Noise Marine was having doubts. How should he get back to the rest of the warband? Why was everyone here a twit? He found some dark green paint, and since he had an ancient Pig Nose Helmet
he would pass as a Dark Angel. Who knows all the Astartes colors anyway? It's not in the lore for sure.
The Cog Person used their heretic skills to find a white board. There were some papers there which must have been left for some time. A list of things were on them.
All of them were refered to somebody named Craig. The Blood Angel knew it. Every backwater in the Screaming Vortex has a 'Craig's List'
By the power of the omnissiah they established a secure channel to the lone star southerners and it didn't take long to locate a giant, pig nosed marine who still smelled slightly like toilet duck.
All together came up with a plan:
-to find the Obsidian Stool they couldn't work together but had to make allies in the local populace. An old Cogitator in the Lone Star Shed and the slightly newer one in New Barlinek would have to do.
-the Noise Marine was making contact at the Saloon, called the 'Seedy Gene's Haberdashery' it also had a 'Craig's List'. The both were connected through landlines.
-The World Eater and the Night Lord had plan's of there own. Withouth foreshadowing too much --nothing good.
-the Blood Angel was strangely at ease in his new colors
Cog person had to find out for their self. What would Craig's list do and who could they trust.
In the underhive, they found a bar, in the bar they found a ladder, at the bottom of the ladder there was a small blinking light. An old servitor lost and forgotten.
Well a Heretek could go far with something like this.
Vox channel from somewhere planetside.
'I got jammed'
'How can you tell?'
'I push the trigger button and shit ain't happening.'
'Gotta pull dem trigger not push.'
'But it won't stay down.'
The trigger button push it and something awesome happens.
Remember, the gambling passenger put a tarot card in his pocket during the derailing train ride. It showed temperance on öne side and the fool on the öther. On further examination there was writing on it:
'Trevor's Axiom'
'Well it sure isn't an ace of spades, but maybe söme büddy on 'Craig's List' will give me some Thröngeld for it.'
He put the trading card on Craig's List. It was listed for 340 Throngeld. Plus 70 for shipping it, it almost got shipped double. After advertising fees he got 270 out of it.
The message of the happy buyer was the following.
The leading horse is white.
The second horse is red.
The third one is a black.
The last one is a green.
-Herb4Twenties
Well if Herb is happy with Trevor's Axiom all the better. Though the song lyrics are kinda strange, thought the Noise Marine.
He liked electronic pop music way more than classics from the dark age of technology:
Though he never figured out how you bluff with your muffin.
/spoiler]
Enough of Mr. Noise Marine for now. There are more characters to get played in the story. And the villains haven't even arrived yet.
The obvious Blood Angel wrote about the Heretek's struggle to make the servitor worked:
'Cogperson is doing all she can, but the servitor was damaged beyond repair. All she could do was giving his machine spirit binary commands like:
"Bleep, bloop, bleep."
'Maybe a Warpsmith could help, but the warp traffic is always jammed arround here. I'll try to put my scripture knowledge to good use.'
And so he did. Together they installed a basic profanity filter in the servitor. A calculator was jury rigged into his addled brain, and through several serial drama's he learnt the gist of low gothic.
They named him Shell, because that what he was. An empty shell of the combat servitor he dreamed to be.
In the northern polar region he took over advertising the door of a red brick house. It was all he was good for. Pict screens to this day show him advertising a black door. Nobody ever told him that the
building behind it was as empty as his sense of humour.
Sometimes plebs threw rubber balls at him 4 at a time, but they bounced off our calculating Bouncer.
The angry one and the one who doesn't believe in gods were recruiting like crazy by now.
They got out of their Power Armor and acted as half-ogryns.
Lowlife's from every corner where biting their message. We need the stool, and the northern pole region's capital hive will gonna pay for it.
This is the end of ACT I
To sum up a very long story I will paraphrase ACT II, end game is coming fast after this.
Act II
Pasta is a dish best served cold. - Old Space Wolf Proverb.
The noise marine finally found something useful, an old copy writer had been hoarding calendars. Like from 150 terra standard years. All had proverbs on it.
He put them in his dufflebag and searched the wasteland for a ride.
A few kloms away a salamander was parked in a ditch. Backpack safely in the salamander he set out to the north, by going so far south that he ended up on top;
I mean in the northern polar region.
To his surprise there were magazines to keep him occupied. All had the words: Property of Fenric Jurgen im them. Aside from loads of edgy picts they were rather
blank. No surprise.
Two whole days later or 2 times 72 he arrived in New ... and did some doughnuts to announce his fellow warbanders that he got just in time. By now they have
given themselves a name:
The Oddballs
It was a pun orchestrated by the Plaguemeister. The only person without a proper Power Armor. His Solar Auxillary suit was on par with a light power armor,
but much less bulky. From the inside it was immaculate, the outside showed heavy red stains on the now blue painting.
His helmet hung on the shoulders as the Noise Marine arrived. Shaking his glorious, locks raven black, and just the right amount of grease in it he greated him:
'Hey Pig nose. That took you a while to get here.'
'Hey, hey slow, down I'm under a lot of stress from the 144h of driving, straigt through a toxic wasteland.'
High 5 everyone.
Plaguemeister's tech use was off the roof. His skills in spamming Craig's List got him a cult following that rivaled any other secret cult.
But being at good humour all the time, it was just what the Oddballs needed. No shots where fired until now, but this would change.
Up above the Ultra Marines had send a Recon Team, to look up what's what.
Being veterans of countless nid invasions, the high vox traffic had caught their attention. Well all except the Noise Marine was posing in blue colors, at least
he could use his deception skill without disadvantage.
The Heretek had served with Astartes prior to being expelled from Mars, so they actually got a plus 40 modifier.
Now some light music from Loki. It was a smash hit in the day--
It seemed the Ultra Marines weren't very into tech so their astra telepatic message got the Space Wolf Chapter instead.
Being always Hungry for action, three full battle cruisers departed to the ... planet.
But there were no tyranids, or where there. My d2 said they were located in one of the two big hives. The players had to find out which one.
50:50
Well ditching the Noise Marine by going southern on him was maybe the reason I took their chances to a level playing field.
Good for them media also arrived with the Recon Team and all and every one and y'all was into the story of the Oddballs and their quest to get more
followers.
Back in their Power armors again the slightly newer cogitator was shared on at least 6 screens. Keys were hammered and archives raided. Craig's List was getting
dust and cobwebs on the not so white board.
The plaguemeister bonded with the two Astartes of old. Their plan to spam Craig's List with archive bombs was getting into motion and Ultra Marines where just
knocking on the door when all was well again.
Cog Person greeted the recon team with a linguar only intelligible by them.
She rolled a zero and a 1 with her double d10s.
For their crit in deception I awarded them with a tap on the head. Many signs of the aquilla later the blue recons left, but the Chapter from Loki
was on their way. They needed no reason to invade a Planet. Nid's and cultist go always hand in hand. Even they had heard of genestealer cults. But were they in the north
or down south? This is why secret rolls exist.
The team got back to work after the encounter with the astartes.
To get to the bottom while staying on top they knew unrest wouldn't do. Two hives host to many witnesses and their quest for The Obsidian Stool
Trademark still pending
wasn't going anywhere. This is where the Noise Marine would be helpful the first time in this campaign.His unique view of matters written, driven by his Prince of Chaos patron, he should check all the archives and yell really loud using his psonic blaster when
he finds anything which is at odds with the imperial doctrine.
After several taurin and recaf flavoured sodas, more lho sticks than breathable air and the ocasional amasec bottle or 7
(now that toilet duck and paint thinner weren't in high demand), he found many odd stuff.
So his curious mind lead him to the List of Craig. He still had the calendar data. Scores of them. Using the very slow Cogitator he scanned and searched the whole List of Craig.
What he found was odd, strange, and alien.
The Cogperson was in contact with a gal named Anatis Pulmenti. Both made fun of Noise Marines and him in particular.
There was a whole group of false contacts. All were in league with the Plaguemeister.
His cult was growing even without actual persons buying something.
So he rolled on forbidden knowledge and scored a 3ing 04. Crit where crit is due.
I told him that Tzeentch must be behind at least some of the changes. His numbers checked out on every one of the profiles. Rubric Marines every one of them.
He must found them in the toxic wasteland between the poles. Dust to dust and so on. Well the Noise Marine was more then a little 2ed.
So he took to a plan. A printer and some glue would make all of the calendar lore into actual bumper stickers. He would stick it to the Plaguemeister, one way or the other.
For being so perceptive and getting mad I let him roll on the corruption scale.
56
That means pseudo daemon, Slaanesh means Daemonette.
Wouldn't do. A 7 feet tall astartes person with the body of a daemonette bad idea. Well the other players were quite okay with it, but I thought since the knowledge
came from the changer of ways, the prince of cryptic answers, the transformation should be equally maze-like.
Pink Horror it is. Since the rule book isn't too draconic, and TTRPGs are to have fun, he was only Horror inspired and not full blown this
So rather than making him a total Krank, voice and all.
I gave him a pink mush of a face. Blue eyes for the blue horror clones that would be spawned. And since he smoked so many lho-sticks during research he was a bit
sooty. To sum it up
a mush of a face and black and blue all over.
Daemonette would be kinda normal-- this suited him right to get into the way of Tzeentch's Oddballs.
-Interlude-
The Blood Angel put some music on for the coming Battles
Our Noise Marine was more in this mood
They decided to use this instead
________________________________________________________________________
The game to end all games:
At this part all players ragequit. Quite a shame the game was going so well.