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Quote of the Week from my gaming group...


Darren Watts

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

The Deathwatch GM wanted the team leader to write up closing reports on the mission ( or as I suggested calling them, based on userinfo.giflederhosen's lead, the "Dear Princess Celestia" letters ). We got these two pieces of brilliance

 

Deathwatch Stronghold, Calxis sector, MacIan's kitchen, 1854 hours.

 

Scribe Duncan, barely past his 17th year, was new to the watch. A son of a well-regarded line of Scribes, he'd been given a sacred duty as the personal scribe to the legendary Space Marine warrior - Brother MacIan. Peerless among his brothers for his battle prowess, it is said that he has never lost a duel on or off of the field of battle.

He should have gotten suspicious when he learnt that Brother MacIan's old scribe, Duncan's grandfather, had retired due to 'Stress-related' illnesses.

 

A Storm Warden, Duncan expected a severe but fair task master. Always demanding his all, nothing less would suffice. In his dreams the young Scribe saw himself penning down epic battles, tales of fiery daemons held in a sword lock whilst the Deathwatch brought death to the Emperor's enemies. Yet here he was as he clutched a roll of parchment, mousily following the tell-tale smell of cider and baked sweet bread.

 

Around the corner, wearing only his power-armour gloves, a pair of briefs and a pink-frilly apron embroidered with 'Fight the Chef' was the legendary assault marine himself. The name that Orks fear and cause lesser men to quail in his presence. There, crouched down before an oven, was MacIan, his height and girth making it akin to watching a bodybuilder peering down at an easy-bake oven.

 

At least he had underwear under the apron this time.

 

"Uh-uh... H-Hail! B-brother MacIan, I h-have come because I need to-."

 

The reaction was immediate.

 

"AH YOUNG DUNCAN ME' LAD. HOWS IT FINDING YAE?" MacIan bellowed, his frilly apron dancing in the wind and he stomped over to the scribe. He engulfed the Scribe's hand in his own, giving him a bone-jarring shake that wrenched his entire body up and down.

 

"B-Brother I-I, the watch command has requested..."

 

"Wot? Ach, speak up there, lad!"

 

"YOUR REPORT!! Your report on your last battle!"

 

Duncan found himself yelling, his face flushed red with both embarrassment and at the insanity of it all.

 

The broad grin from the space marine's face immediately vanished. The oven timer behind him sounded off with a loud 'DING'.

 

"Oh yeah, that's right, fook'n hell. I knew I was forgetting something like that. Okay, it's a good thing you're here. Take a note, I need to ice these muffins."

 

He turned back around, giving the scribe a rather undesired view of his skull-print undershorts.

 

"Okay, now, write down EXACTLY what I say..."

 

Away Mission Report: Ganf Magna

Squad Commander: Assault Marine Gilroy MacIan of the Storm Wardens

 

Right, so here's how it went. First up we needed to recover the gene-seed of squad of space marine brothers on the surface while making sure no-one know that's what we were doing. Easy stuff.

 

First things first, Orks on the surface, we reckon they landed in a canyon. Drop-pod failures or something. Anyway, we need to get down there so we did a standard delta drop on storm bikes. Nice load out on those, my complements to the tech- ph'waohh! Duncan, sniff that! Like manna from the God-Emperor.

 

Yeah, so we jump down into the thick of things and spread out to attack the Orks who'd hold up around the pod. We used the storm bikes for an assault. No causalities. Err... for us that is, the Orks are all dead. Nothing was left standing higher than a squig's testicle. I think there was a Nob down there, or it might have been two Orks standing on each other's shoulders. Yeah he died too. Shame, I wanted to hit him with my sword.

 

So yeah, we checked out the drop pod and four of the battle brothers were killed. Bloody shame. We didn't find a body for the fifth so we had to start searching. Turns out the beacon set up was ramshackle, wasn't likely the fifth marine did it. Our reports from the Inquisitors told us that he punched out behind friendly lines. We found out later that it was some fellow guardsman, those Iocanthos troopers who we've requested for transfer, are the ones who did it under his orders. Good lot that, don't tell the tech-priest they did it though - aye?

 

Now, put your pen down and help me pick out these designs for the icing. I said put it down!

 

Right, good, you see? A floral pattern always attracts the eater, and an eater tastes with his eyes before his mouth. Now, where were we? Oh right!

 

Anyway, Iron Hands are holding up to their reputation; Gunhildr was highly efficient with his heavy bolter but also kind of a knob-head. Glad we didn't take him with us later. That Dark Angel apothecary was being creepy as usual, so they could stay behind too. Corbis was pretty cool, though, so he could stay. Tawhaki is a neutral element, a good marine, if a little bland. He needs more salt. Telemachus is headstrong, bossy and way too eager to solve problems with violence. Now that's a man after my own heart. Wot? Oh right! The mission report.

 

Right, we learned that Imperial lines was over to the west but there was a closer regiment to the north. Also there was a prison to the south where we might find him (spoilers, we found 'em there). So I said we go north and chat to the lads up there, mostly because they were being attack. Honestly I wanted to save them, but I also wanted to have another go at the Orks.

 

Well, we rode up on the bikes and it was the darnedest thing. The signal that the regiment had set up was a distress signal, right now there was two forces. One has las weapons and the other had autoguns. The boys up on a hill had guns and the boy attack'n 'em had las. It couldn't be Orks defending. Orks don't defend, ever. It also couldn't be them attacking since Orks don't use las. Telemachus said he wanted a look so I said yeah and he took Corbis with him. Apparently they're good at that or something.

 

So away, Tawhaki and I are up there holding our d- wait, you think it's time to ice them? Nah, still have to wait it's cool. Yeah, so we're our defensive position when I decided I was sick of that and circled around. Telemachus told me what I suspected, traitor PDF, so I decided to strike the fear of the God-Emperor into their hearts with some bagpipes, engine-revs and a claymore. That did good apparently. We charged the enemy lines and killed them to the next-ta-last man. The Iocanthos troops got the last blood, they earnt it.

 

Turns out this regiment had been left for dead by the local command for harbouring an 'unknown' space marine. I've already filed away my request for trial by combat for the Chalice Commissar's commander. Knowing that he's probably holed up in the prison we go down that way.

Fook'n hell what a kerfuffle that was.

 

So we rolled up to the prison and the idiots train guns on us immediately. Like we'd fook'n notice if they shot at us. We roll up inside, try to be as polite as possible. Turns out the Calixis Commissariat’s been torturing our battle brother. I'm bloody impressed all of my brothers held our fury. Hell, I'm impressed that *I* didn't kill him. We'll leave something like proper punishment to the friendly folks with the right amount of red-hot steak knives and fishhooks.

 

Well, other than one commissar the rest of the forces paid every due respect. Only following orders and all that. Still, if they need an executioner then I'd volunteer but only if Telemachus doesn't want to do it. I think that about wraps it up. Right now lad, I know you've been eye'n it. Go on, lick the bowl, I know you want to!

 

- End report

 

 

and this...

 

Deathwatch Stronghold, Calixis sector, Watchtower Librarium, 2036 hours.

 

With a sigh of exertion, Scribe Guillaume of Boscherholm made his way to the outer reading tables, his aging frame beginning to show signs of wear. He was seeking the Space Marine, Brother Telemachus of the Millennial Wardens, who had requested an addendum be attached to his squad leader's report before it was presented to the Watch Captain and then properly interred into the Watchtowers archives. Young Duncan had just finished scribing the report and had seemed somewhat harried by the experience, so he had offered to take on this task. Besides, he found that he liked this Space Marine's studious manner; although he understood that his manner was quite different on the battlefield. And by all accounts, the Millennial Wardens always afforded great respect for the learned scholars and adepts that tend the libraria of the Imperium, and his own experience with this Marine did nothing to dispel this notion.

 

He found Telemachus pouring over various scrolls and tomes at one of the reading tables, the single lumin-orb above it making the table seem like an island oasis amidst a sea of murky shadow, the giant's frame like some foreboding mountainside. Shaking the image from his mind, Guillaume approached Telemachus, noting the titles of the Warden's reading material. They were mission reports and historical accounts of Ganf Magna, the planet the Marine's Kill-Team had last been deployed to. Ones that specifically dealt with Ork infestation, if Guillaume read the markers correctly. Just as he was about to announce his presence with a polite cough, the massive form turned to face him. "Ah, Scribe. I take it that Brother MacIan has finally made his report. How is the young scribe that was assigned to him? Duncan, wasn't it?"

 

Startled slightly, Guillaume stammered out a reply, "Y-yes. Duncan is doing well enough, Brother Telemachus, although he was in need of a little rest." That, Guillaume thought, he could do without. The Warden tendency to always be aware of things just a moment ahead of when you would expect them to. He understoond that with "normal" Marines, such as Telemachus, it was merely an accute awareness and attention to their surroundings, coupled with studious observation of patterns, but it was still a little unnerving. "You wished to add your own addendum to his report?" Telemachus chuckled slightly, also an unnerving sight given the size that is typical of the Emperor's Angels of Death. "Do not worry yourself, Guillaume. I merely seek to append the report with my own observations of the Ork situation on Ganf Magna. Brother MacIan performed more than adequately in his role as squad leader and I look forward to serving under his leadership again." Guillaume nodded and shuffled up to the table proper, Telemachus picking up a few heavy tomes, as easily as one might pluck up dataslate, and clearing a little space for the scribe. Guillame noted the silvery cards of the Emperor's Tarot that are never far from a Warden, laid out in classic Aquilan Augury, and began to wonder just what the Marine might have divined with them.

 

Away Mission Report: Magna Gnaf

Squad Commander: Assault Marine Gilroy MacIan of the Storm Wardens

 

Addendum 1: Tactical Marine Telemachus of the Millenial Wardens.

 

Scribe's Note: The reader is reminded that it is the tradition of the Millennial Wardens to strip the familial name from a member who joins the Deathwatch. While the details are unknown outside that chapter, it is understood that they are "reborn" somehow through service to the Holy Ordo. Thus, serving in the Deathwatch is either an honour or penance. Or both, as the case may be.

 

In securing the site of our Brother Marine's drop pod's final landing point, Ork looters were discovered at its location and eliminated with all due prejudice. Special mention goes to Brother Gunhildr, who laid down fire with both diligence and zeal. One of the larger specimens of Ork was present, of the type commonly referred to as "Nob". Via use of Omophagea, I was able to determine that though this particular uprising has only recently entered into use of their blasphemous technologies, the local Warboss had already subjugated the local orkoid farmsteads and had even gained the allegiance of a "Tekshaman". I can only surmise that this Ork is a twisted mockery of the Imperium's blessed Tech Priests, and as such represent a clear a present danger to the forces currently fighting in the Emperor's Name on Ganf Magna.

 

Further information was unobtainable due to the fractured nature of the source, but consultation of the Emperor's Tarot confirms my suspicion that this Warboss, one Gazbag, is expanding his influence ahead of usual projections of Orkish development. This would indicate the potential for the local Ork shared psychic field to reach its eruptive threshold, or "Waaagh". I recommend that either Gazbag or this Tekshaman be singled out for extermination in order to prevent this.

 

Thought for the Day: Knowledge is Power. To be Unknown, is to be Unconquerable.

 

- End Addendum
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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

4th edition continues

Theren the Archer, Elven Ranger

Goguin the Faithful, Dwarven Cleric

Darrek the Redundant, Dwarf Fighter

Lucius the Pyro/Cyromaniac, Tiefling Elementalist

Terius the punned upon, Minotaur Fighter (moo!)

Varus the stretched, Half-Elf Ardent

And introducing

Whisper the Loud, Half-Elf Paladin

 

We encounter a small group of ghouls

Darrak: They look like they're searching.

Varrus: Ghoul's doing reconaisance.

Terios: Ghoul Scouts.

Theren: Do they sell Ghoul Scout cookies?

Whisper: Are the cookies made from Real Ghoul Scouts?

Darrak: Just buy the damned cookies.

Lucius: Or buy the cookies and be damned.

Theren: In hockey, the Ghoulie guards a net.

Goguin: A Net Funnicello.

Terios: Every guy is looking for that special ghoul...

GM: Roll for initiative.

Terios: Come on, it wasn't that bad.

 

The ghouls have a gaze attack, leading to...

Whisper: Stop staring at me!

Terios: You dress like that, it's no wonder the ghouls stare.

 

All I can say is, I'm glad the party didn't include Katy Perry. That would have ended very badly.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

The Deathwatch GM wanted the team leader to write up closing reports on the mission ( or as I suggested calling them' date=' based on userinfo.giflederhosen's lead, the "Dear Princess Celestia" letters ). We got these two pieces of brilliance

 

Deathwatch Stronghold, Calxis sector, MacIan's kitchen, 1854 hours.

 

Scribe Duncan, barely past his 17th year, was new to the watch. A son of a well-regarded line of Scribes, he'd been given a sacred duty as the personal scribe to the legendary Space Marine warrior - Brother MacIan. Peerless among his brothers for his battle prowess, it is said that he has never lost a duel on or off of the field of battle.

He should have gotten suspicious when he learnt that Brother MacIan's old scribe, Duncan's grandfather, had retired due to 'Stress-related' illnesses.

 

A Storm Warden, Duncan expected a severe but fair task master. Always demanding his all, nothing less would suffice. In his dreams the young Scribe saw himself penning down epic battles, tales of fiery daemons held in a sword lock whilst the Deathwatch brought death to the Emperor's enemies. Yet here he was as he clutched a roll of parchment, mousily following the tell-tale smell of cider and baked sweet bread.

 

Around the corner, wearing only his power-armour gloves, a pair of briefs and a pink-frilly apron embroidered with 'Fight the Chef' was the legendary assault marine himself. The name that Orks fear and cause lesser men to quail in his presence. There, crouched down before an oven, was MacIan, his height and girth making it akin to watching a bodybuilder peering down at an easy-bake oven.

 

At least he had underwear under the apron this time.

 

"Uh-uh... H-Hail! B-brother MacIan, I h-have come because I need to-."

 

The reaction was immediate.

 

"AH YOUNG DUNCAN ME' LAD. HOWS IT FINDING YAE?" MacIan bellowed, his frilly apron dancing in the wind and he stomped over to the scribe. He engulfed the Scribe's hand in his own, giving him a bone-jarring shake that wrenched his entire body up and down.

 

"B-Brother I-I, the watch command has requested..."

 

"Wot? Ach, speak up there, lad!"

 

"YOUR REPORT!! Your report on your last battle!"

 

Duncan found himself yelling, his face flushed red with both embarrassment and at the insanity of it all.

 

The broad grin from the space marine's face immediately vanished. The oven timer behind him sounded off with a loud 'DING'.

 

"Oh yeah, that's right, fook'n hell. I knew I was forgetting something like that. Okay, it's a good thing you're here. Take a note, I need to ice these muffins."

 

He turned back around, giving the scribe a rather undesired view of his skull-print undershorts.

 

"Okay, now, write down EXACTLY what I say..."

Away Mission Report: Ganf Magna

Squad Commander: Assault Marine Gilroy MacIan of the Storm Wardens

 

Right, so here's how it went. First up we needed to recover the gene-seed of squad of space marine brothers on the surface while making sure no-one know that's what we were doing. Easy stuff.

 

First things first, Orks on the surface, we reckon they landed in a canyon. Drop-pod failures or something. Anyway, we need to get down there so we did a standard delta drop on storm bikes. Nice load out on those, my complements to the tech- ph'waohh! Duncan, sniff that! Like manna from the God-Emperor.

 

Yeah, so we jump down into the thick of things and spread out to attack the Orks who'd hold up around the pod. We used the storm bikes for an assault. No causalities. Err... for us that is, the Orks are all dead. Nothing was left standing higher than a squig's testicle. I think there was a Nob down there, or it might have been two Orks standing on each other's shoulders. Yeah he died too. Shame, I wanted to hit him with my sword.

 

So yeah, we checked out the drop pod and four of the battle brothers were killed. Bloody shame. We didn't find a body for the fifth so we had to start searching. Turns out the beacon set up was ramshackle, wasn't likely the fifth marine did it. Our reports from the Inquisitors told us that he punched out behind friendly lines. We found out later that it was some fellow guardsman, those Iocanthos troopers who we've requested for transfer, are the ones who did it under his orders. Good lot that, don't tell the tech-priest they did it though - aye?

 

Now, put your pen down and help me pick out these designs for the icing. I said put it down!

 

Right, good, you see? A floral pattern always attracts the eater, and an eater tastes with his eyes before his mouth. Now, where were we? Oh right!

 

Anyway, Iron Hands are holding up to their reputation; Gunhildr was highly efficient with his heavy bolter but also kind of a knob-head. Glad we didn't take him with us later. That Dark Angel apothecary was being creepy as usual, so they could stay behind too. Corbis was pretty cool, though, so he could stay. Tawhaki is a neutral element, a good marine, if a little bland. He needs more salt. Telemachus is headstrong, bossy and way too eager to solve problems with violence. Now that's a man after my own heart. Wot? Oh right! The mission report.

 

Right, we learned that Imperial lines was over to the west but there was a closer regiment to the north. Also there was a prison to the south where we might find him (spoilers, we found 'em there). So I said we go north and chat to the lads up there, mostly because they were being attack. Honestly I wanted to save them, but I also wanted to have another go at the Orks.

 

Well, we rode up on the bikes and it was the darnedest thing. The signal that the regiment had set up was a distress signal, right now there was two forces. One has las weapons and the other had autoguns. The boys up on a hill had guns and the boy attack'n 'em had las. It couldn't be Orks defending. Orks don't defend, ever. It also couldn't be them attacking since Orks don't use las. Telemachus said he wanted a look so I said yeah and he took Corbis with him. Apparently they're good at that or something.

 

So away, Tawhaki and I are up there holding our d- wait, you think it's time to ice them? Nah, still have to wait it's cool. Yeah, so we're our defensive position when I decided I was sick of that and circled around. Telemachus told me what I suspected, traitor PDF, so I decided to strike the fear of the God-Emperor into their hearts with some bagpipes, engine-revs and a claymore. That did good apparently. We charged the enemy lines and killed them to the next-ta-last man. The Iocanthos troops got the last blood, they earnt it.

 

Turns out this regiment had been left for dead by the local command for harbouring an 'unknown' space marine. I've already filed away my request for trial by combat for the Chalice Commissar's commander. Knowing that he's probably holed up in the prison we go down that way.

Fook'n hell what a kerfuffle that was.

 

So we rolled up to the prison and the idiots train guns on us immediately. Like we'd fook'n notice if they shot at us. We roll up inside, try to be as polite as possible. Turns out the Calixis Commissariat’s been torturing our battle brother. I'm bloody impressed all of my brothers held our fury. Hell, I'm impressed that *I* didn't kill him. We'll leave something like proper punishment to the friendly folks with the right amount of red-hot steak knives and fishhooks.

 

Well, other than one commissar the rest of the forces paid every due respect. Only following orders and all that. Still, if they need an executioner then I'd volunteer but only if Telemachus doesn't want to do it. I think that about wraps it up. Right now lad, I know you've been eye'n it. Go on, lick the bowl, I know you want to!

 

- End report

 

 

and this...

 

Deathwatch Stronghold, Calixis sector, Watchtower Librarium, 2036 hours.

 

With a sigh of exertion, Scribe Guillaume of Boscherholm made his way to the outer reading tables, his aging frame beginning to show signs of wear. He was seeking the Space Marine, Brother Telemachus of the Millennial Wardens, who had requested an addendum be attached to his squad leader's report before it was presented to the Watch Captain and then properly interred into the Watchtowers archives. Young Duncan had just finished scribing the report and had seemed somewhat harried by the experience, so he had offered to take on this task. Besides, he found that he liked this Space Marine's studious manner; although he understood that his manner was quite different on the battlefield. And by all accounts, the Millennial Wardens always afforded great respect for the learned scholars and adepts that tend the libraria of the Imperium, and his own experience with this Marine did nothing to dispel this notion.

 

He found Telemachus pouring over various scrolls and tomes at one of the reading tables, the single lumin-orb above it making the table seem like an island oasis amidst a sea of murky shadow, the giant's frame like some foreboding mountainside. Shaking the image from his mind, Guillaume approached Telemachus, noting the titles of the Warden's reading material. They were mission reports and historical accounts of Ganf Magna, the planet the Marine's Kill-Team had last been deployed to. Ones that specifically dealt with Ork infestation, if Guillaume read the markers correctly. Just as he was about to announce his presence with a polite cough, the massive form turned to face him. "Ah, Scribe. I take it that Brother MacIan has finally made his report. How is the young scribe that was assigned to him? Duncan, wasn't it?"

 

Startled slightly, Guillaume stammered out a reply, "Y-yes. Duncan is doing well enough, Brother Telemachus, although he was in need of a little rest." That, Guillaume thought, he could do without. The Warden tendency to always be aware of things just a moment ahead of when you would expect them to. He understoond that with "normal" Marines, such as Telemachus, it was merely an accute awareness and attention to their surroundings, coupled with studious observation of patterns, but it was still a little unnerving. "You wished to add your own addendum to his report?" Telemachus chuckled slightly, also an unnerving sight given the size that is typical of the Emperor's Angels of Death. "Do not worry yourself, Guillaume. I merely seek to append the report with my own observations of the Ork situation on Ganf Magna. Brother MacIan performed more than adequately in his role as squad leader and I look forward to serving under his leadership again." Guillaume nodded and shuffled up to the table proper, Telemachus picking up a few heavy tomes, as easily as one might pluck up dataslate, and clearing a little space for the scribe. Guillame noted the silvery cards of the Emperor's Tarot that are never far from a Warden, laid out in classic Aquilan Augury, and began to wonder just what the Marine might have divined with them.

Away Mission Report: Magna Gnaf

Squad Commander: Assault Marine Gilroy MacIan of the Storm Wardens

 

Addendum 1: Tactical Marine Telemachus of the Millenial Wardens.

 

Scribe's Note: The reader is reminded that it is the tradition of the Millennial Wardens to strip the familial name from a member who joins the Deathwatch. While the details are unknown outside that chapter, it is understood that they are "reborn" somehow through service to the Holy Ordo. Thus, serving in the Deathwatch is either an honour or penance. Or both, as the case may be.

 

In securing the site of our Brother Marine's drop pod's final landing point, Ork looters were discovered at its location and eliminated with all due prejudice. Special mention goes to Brother Gunhildr, who laid down fire with both diligence and zeal. One of the larger specimens of Ork was present, of the type commonly referred to as "Nob". Via use of Omophagea, I was able to determine that though this particular uprising has only recently entered into use of their blasphemous technologies, the local Warboss had already subjugated the local orkoid farmsteads and had even gained the allegiance of a "Tekshaman". I can only surmise that this Ork is a twisted mockery of the Imperium's blessed Tech Priests, and as such represent a clear a present danger to the forces currently fighting in the Emperor's Name on Ganf Magna.

 

Further information was unobtainable due to the fractured nature of the source, but consultation of the Emperor's Tarot confirms my suspicion that this Warboss, one Gazbag, is expanding his influence ahead of usual projections of Orkish development. This would indicate the potential for the local Ork shared psychic field to reach its eruptive threshold, or "Waaagh". I recommend that either Gazbag or this Tekshaman be singled out for extermination in order to prevent this.

 

Thought for the Day: Knowledge is Power. To be Unknown, is to be Unconquerable.

 

- End Addendum

 

 

You know...after reading this, I have to wonder if the Imperium should've created a mental health

organization just to deal with people like MacIan -- something like, say, the Adeptus Psychosis (or

whatever the frell you'd call it).

 

 

 

Major Tom 2009 :sneaky:

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

You know...after reading this, I have to wonder if the Imperium should've created a mental health

organization just to deal with people like MacIan -- something like, say, the Adeptus Psychosis (or

whatever the frell you'd call it).

 

 

 

 

 

Major Tom 2009 :sneaky:

 

They do. They're called "The Inquisition" :D

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

They do. They're called "The Inquisition" :D

Actually, I think that it falls to the Orders Hospitaler of the Adepta Sororitas for most, but in MacIan's case, it's the Chaplain's duty.

 

Remember, though, that the insane are a cherished commodity in the Imperium, due to the defense that madness provides against the horrors of the 41st Millennium. Provided that their madness still leaves them relatively lucid, that is.:P

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

Sir Snobby, the scientist (okay, that's not *really* his name, but he lived up to the namesake...I promise!) was attempting to dictate strategy to the party (agents of Pitfall, which is essentially an elite global anti-terror organization).

 

The PCs disagree with him in a most fantastic way.

 

Sir Snobby: "And what, pray tell, are you talking about? You came for me, so take my advice. This is NOT a democracy"

 

The team leader steps up, quite exasperated with the attitude.

 

"That's where you're wrong, doc. This is a democracy where the entire population knows more ways to kill than you, and can rough it in the jungle with only their skivvies and a smile"

 

Resident joker/vehicle expert thrusts a fist into the air.

 

"Viva la revolucion!"

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

Actually, I think that it falls to the Orders Hospitaler of the Adepta Sororitas for most, but in MacIan's case, it's the Chaplain's duty.

 

Remember, though, that the insane are a cherished commodity in the Imperium, due to the defense that madness provides against the horrors of the 41st Millennium. Provided that their madness still leaves them relatively lucid, that is.:P

 

True on all counts. However, an Inquisitor therapist is an idea whose time has come!

 

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: Brother Demente, won't you please come in?

Brother Demente: We are his sword and his shield!

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: Praise the Emperor. Now, what seems to be the trouble?

Brother Demente: We stand alone against the darkness!

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: Glory to his name. We all feel that way sometimes don't we?

Brother Demente: Blessed is the mind too small for heresy!

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: Honor and glory. Now, now. There's no need to get down on yourself...

Brother Demente: ... I need a hug...

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: *awkward 41st century hug*

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

Sir Snobby, the scientist (okay, that's not *really* his name, but he lived up to the namesake...I promise!) was attempting to dictate strategy to the party (agents of Pitfall, which is essentially an elite global anti-terror organization).

 

The PCs disagree with him in a most fantastic way.

 

Sir Snobby: "And what, pray tell, are you talking about? You came for me, so take my advice. This is NOT a democracy"

 

The team leader steps up, quite exasperated with the attitude.

 

"That's where you're wrong, doc. This is a democracy where the entire population knows more ways to kill than you, and can rough it in the jungle with only their skivvies and a smile"

 

Resident joker/vehicle expert thrusts a fist into the air.

 

"Viva la revolucion!"

 

 

 

The team leader forgot the part about how the entire population is likely to show up at one

of his pool parties with a fistfull of pesos and a million-dollar smile -- after, of course, spend-

ing a week up in the Arctic Circle wearing nothing but a pair of bikini underwear.

 

 

 

Major Tom 2009 :winkgrin:

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

A trailer for the planned podcast of Masks, by the inestimable RPGMP3PencilMonkey. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

 

 

recounting the tales of a gaming group as they try to survive the perils of 1920's and 1930's North America - Prohibition, mobsters, sanity-blasting terrors from beyond time and space, and worst of all: their own party member, Governor Patrick McGinty, AKA the New England Shit Vortex.

 

Musical interlude by Kevin MacLeod from incompetech.com

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

recounting the tales of a gaming group as they try to survive the perils of 1920's and 1930's North America - Prohibition' date=' mobsters, sanity-blasting terrors from beyond time and space, and worst of all: their own party member, Governor Patrick McGinty, AKA the New England Shit Vortex.[/quote']

 

Please excuse my confusion but, for a very long time, I have been under the impression that McGinty IS one of the "sanity-blasting terrors from beyond time and space".

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

Please excuse my confusion but' date=' for a very long time, I have been under the impression that McGinty IS one of the "sanity-blasting terrors from beyond time and space".[/quote']

 

Nah, the most terrifying thing about McGinty is that he's a local product.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

Nah' date=' the most terrifying thing about McGinty is that he's a local product.[/quote']

 

I've actually thought that his fascination with necromancy might show some ghoul blood in his family tree.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

True on all counts. However, an Inquisitor therapist is an idea whose time has come!

 

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: Brother Demente, won't you please come in?

Brother Demente: We are his sword and his shield!

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: Praise the Emperor. Now, what seems to be the trouble?

Brother Demente: We stand alone against the darkness!

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: Glory to his name. We all feel that way sometimes don't we?

Brother Demente: Blessed is the mind too small for heresy!

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: Honor and glory. Now, now. There's no need to get down on yourself...

Brother Demente: ... I need a hug...

Inquisitor Kopfschrumpfen: *awkward 41st century hug*

 

Would never happen - there's no way they can hug around those shoulder pads. pauldrons. ... the giant human skulls they wear as shoulder decorations.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

I've actually thought that his fascination with necromancy might show some ghoul blood in his family tree.

 

I'd had some plans regarding McGinty and Ghouls, but I gave up on running them because he kept missing the necessary sessions.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

I'd had some plans regarding McGinty and Ghouls' date=' but I gave up on running them because he kept missing the necessary sessions.[/quote']

 

You call it "missing", I call it "prescience."

 

Smart man, that McGinty.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

Would never happen - there's no way they can hug around those shoulder pads. pauldrons. ... the giant human skulls they wear as shoulder decorations.

 

I think the best a normal human could manage would be to try and hug a marine around the waist like a small child hugging their parent.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

I've delved into my own Rogue Trader campaign just to try out something new. So far the player seem to be enjoying themselves, though they could just be humoring me.

 

Dramatis Personae

 

Lady-Captain Morgan D'Stayn - Reluctant leader of her family Dynasty following the death of her father and brothers. Clueless about the duties of a Rogue Trader but good with people and surprisingly talented in battle.

Lady Janessa - Loyal seneschal to Captain D'Stayn. Savvy and clever with an unhealthy fascination with Xenos (particularly Eldar).

Vesperevasaraphangeline - Hard-living helmswoman who was born and raised aboard the Dynasty flagship, the Tyrant Sun. Morgan's bastard half-sister with a penchant for insane flying.

Tryft NaLiptik - Career Battlefleet officer who served on a D'Stayn ship until it was lost under mysterious circumstances. Las-marksman, tactician and the official second in command.

Eurydice Magdalene - Former Sister of Battle banished from service for the sin of falling in love. Rescued Morgan from an Ork attack and became close friends with the Lady-Captain.

Pulveria Nocte - Astropathic songstress pressed in service by the Imperial Black Ships. Went freelance until she and Eurydice saved Morgan from an Ork attack.

Maretek Omnus - Explorator tech-priest with dangerous ideas about innovation and heretical curiosity about "how stuff works." Hoping the Adeptus Mechanicus won't track him down.

 

-----

 

“Praise the Emperor and Pop the Clutch!”

- Vesper, with what passes for her battle-cry

 

“You know what planets are? They’re just very slow moving spaceships that only go around in circles.”

- Vesper, indicating her disdain of planet-born folk

 

“Only sixty million more payments and this sucker is mine!”

- Morgan, regarding ownership of her family’s flagship the Tyrant Sun

 

“It’s actually Little America.”

- Tryft, regarding Port Wander

 

“Would it have killed you to show some leg?”

“It may have killed someone.”

- Vesper and Eurydice, following a failed contract negotiation with a junker salvage team

 

“Have you even heard a smile?”

“I have read about them…”

- Vesper and Eurydice, discussing Eurydice’s aloof demeanor

 

“So…just her foot, right?”

- Janessa, when told that Lady-Captain D’Stayn must be the first to set foot on a salvaged ship

 

“I’m already halfway to my first insanity.”

“Normally not a character development goal.”

- Vesper and the GM, discussing starting insanity points

 

“You really don’t need to wind up the ex-Sister of Battle.”

- Vesper, lecturing Pulveria on constantly teasing Eurydice

 

“Lady-Seneschal, what does the captain tell us to do?”

- Pulveria, recognizing who is really in charge

 

“I assume that you’re all going in armed and armoured. Unless you’re completely incompetent.”

“Captain, do you have your arms and armour?”

- The GM and Vesper, before the Explorers ventured into a derelict starship

 

“We’re one blood test away from a new Dynasty.”

- Vesper, secretly Morgan’s illegitimate half-sister

 

“You data may be damaged if you do not first safely remove your Tech-Priest.”

- Maretek, when he is forcibly unplugged from a cogitator console

 

“Ready?”

“0! 0! 0! 0000!!”

- Vesper and Maretek, just before Vesper hurls Maretek into the open void

 

“I wear both boxers and briefs. Just to keep the enemy guessing.”

- Tryft, with a random comment

 

“Don’t do that! I only have four senses left!”

- Pulveria, after Eurydice fires a bolter over the Astropath’s shoulder

 

“Where you born in a primitive construction made of wood and plaster? Perhaps one used for storing animals?”

- Maretek, attempting to insult Vesper

 

“We lost her at fisting.”

- Eurydice, during a discussion about Captain Morgan’s power fist

 

“In my experience, cannibals always attack.”

- Pulveria, showing her wisdom in all things

 

“I switch to hellpistol and give them a little high-wattage love.”

- Tryft, switching weapons in battle

 

“I’m attached to this leg.”

“Not by much.”

- Pulveria and Vesper, after a monster nearly slices Pulveria’s leg clean off

 

“I’m not wrong. I’m just less right.”

- Morgan, showing her razor-sharp Captain’s wit

 

“Maybe if one of our acquisitions had been for fire extinguishers…”

- Vesper, after three simultaneous fires break out aboard the Tyrant Sun

 

“Prepare for the cleansing backhand.”

- Eurydice, typical retort

 

“Vesper, bringing peace to the universe, one airsick bag at a time.”

“Motion sickness makes strange bedfellows.”

- Vesper and Tryft, regarding how both mutants and missionaries fear Vesper’s flying

 

“You’re like a sentient alcohol-soaked scar tissue.”

- GM, regarding Vesper

 

“Gretchin and squig are just Ork sliders.”

- Tryft, regarding lesser Ork species

 

“Look, I landed it. I even used landing gear.”

“Yes, but you didn’t use ours!”

- Vesper and Pulveria, following a forced crash landing of a gun-cutter

 

“I’m going to subdue him by killing him.”

- Eurydice, showing typical Battle Sister tactics

 

“Have a few less Wounds and maybe I’ll come help you.”

- Eurydice, when Vesper complains that she never assists her in battle

 

-----

 

Lonewalker

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

A couple of quotes from a modern-day urban fantasy mini-series.

 

The first one arose from the party's mage's description being that of a 20-something version of the "World's Most Interesting Man" you see in certain beer commercials, so he is known unofficially by the players as the "World's Most Interesting Mage."

 

"He once Feebleminded himself, just to know what it felt like."

 

This one was when the character's go into a seedy, run-down bar in Reno.

"This bar makes the one in Mos Eisley look like a Starbucks."

 

 

From my Icons campaign, consisting of:

Supernal: Flying Brick with powers mixing DC's Superman and Ultraboy. A rich playboy sort who owns a media empire and does some self-promotion of his super ID.

Panzer: Female version of Iron Man. Has a bad reputation for causing collateral damage and has one newspaper columnist crusading against her after she blew up his car.

Golden Dragon: Martial artist who is a cross between Marvel's Iron Fist and Ryu from Street Fighter, and the team's resident pervert.

Gatekeeper: Mystic master who appears a bit like DC's Dr. Fate, only with a screw or two loose. A tad paranoid about extra-dimensional things getting loose in the world.

America Woman: Female Captain America clone, wrapped a little too tightly for her own long-term mental health but is starting to loosen up.

 

Grond: "Grond like shiny helmet man!" (referring to Gatekeeper after he Mind Controlled him to be more friendly)

 

America Woman: "This guy's good at making enemies." (referring to Green Dragon after he made sexist comments towards her)

 

Golden Dragon: "Hey, it's Glass Dragon!" (referring to Green Dragon, who he is 3-0 with in fights and such comments really irk Green Dragon)

 

Gatekeeper: "I am not the inter-dimensional pimp!" (answering to Golden Dragon's request to summon a magical cutie)

 

GM: "After what you just did to him, I suppose he feels like he just had a pop rocks suppository."

 

Golden Dragon: "More sodabots?" (referring to life-like robots that contain a blood-like substance under high pressure. When damaged, blood sprays like you see in some anime.)

 

Panzer: "They're like Stepford Wife Ninja Cheerleaders."

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

“You’re like a sentient alcohol-soaked scar tissue.”

- GM, regarding Vesper

 

“Have a few less Wounds and maybe I’ll come help you.”

- Eurydice, when Vesper complains that she never assists her in battle

 

-----

 

Lonewalker

 

It's worth a note that Vesper - the Voidmaster, pilot, and professional alcoholic has more Wounds than any other party member, by quite a bit. Special Effect: to dumb to know when to sit down and bleed out.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

I've delved into my own Rogue Trader campaign just to try out something new. So far the player seem to be enjoying themselves, though they could just be humoring me.

 

Dramatis Personae

 

Lady-Captain Morgan D'Stayn - Reluctant leader of her family Dynasty following the death of her father and brothers. Clueless about the duties of a Rogue Trader but good with people and surprisingly talented in battle.

Lady Janessa - Loyal seneschal to Captain D'Stayn. Savvy and clever with an unhealthy fascination with Xenos (particularly Eldar).

Vesperevasaraphangeline - Hard-living helmswoman who was born and raised aboard the Dynasty flagship, the Tyrant Sun. Morgan's bastard half-sister with a penchant for insane flying.

Tryft NaLiptik - Career Battlefleet officer who served on a D'Stayn ship until it was lost under mysterious circumstances. Las-marksman, tactician and the official second in command.

Eurydice Magdalene - Former Sister of Battle banished from service for the sin of falling in love. Rescued Morgan from an Ork attack and became close friends with the Lady-Captain.

Pulveria Nocte - Astropathic songstress pressed in service by the Imperial Black Ships. Went freelance until she and Eurydice saved Morgan from an Ork attack.

Maretek Omnus - Explorator tech-priest with dangerous ideas about innovation and heretical curiosity about "how stuff works." Hoping the Adeptus Mechanicus won't track him down.

 

-----

 

“Praise the Emperor and Pop the Clutch!”

- Vesper, with what passes for her battle-cry

 

“You know what planets are? They’re just very slow moving spaceships that only go around in circles.”

- Vesper, indicating her disdain of planet-born folk

 

“Only sixty million more payments and this sucker is mine!”

- Morgan, regarding ownership of her family’s flagship the Tyrant Sun

 

“It’s actually Little America.”

- Tryft, regarding Port Wander

 

“Would it have killed you to show some leg?”

“It may have killed someone.”

- Vesper and Eurydice, following a failed contract negotiation with a junker salvage team

 

“Have you even heard a smile?”

“I have read about them…”

- Vesper and Eurydice, discussing Eurydice’s aloof demeanor

 

“So…just her foot, right?”

- Janessa, when told that Lady-Captain D’Stayn must be the first to set foot on a salvaged ship

 

“I’m already halfway to my first insanity.”

“Normally not a character development goal.”

- Vesper and the GM, discussing starting insanity points

 

“You really don’t need to wind up the ex-Sister of Battle.”

- Vesper, lecturing Pulveria on constantly teasing Eurydice

 

“Lady-Seneschal, what does the captain tell us to do?”

- Pulveria, recognizing who is really in charge

 

“I assume that you’re all going in armed and armoured. Unless you’re completely incompetent.”

“Captain, do you have your arms and armour?”

- The GM and Vesper, before the Explorers ventured into a derelict starship

 

“We’re one blood test away from a new Dynasty.”

- Vesper, secretly Morgan’s illegitimate half-sister

 

“You data may be damaged if you do not first safely remove your Tech-Priest.”

- Maretek, when he is forcibly unplugged from a cogitator console

 

“Ready?”

“0! 0! 0! 0000!!”

- Vesper and Maretek, just before Vesper hurls Maretek into the open void

 

“I wear both boxers and briefs. Just to keep the enemy guessing.”

- Tryft, with a random comment

 

“Don’t do that! I only have four senses left!”

- Pulveria, after Eurydice fires a bolter over the Astropath’s shoulder

 

“Where you born in a primitive construction made of wood and plaster? Perhaps one used for storing animals?”

- Maretek, attempting to insult Vesper

 

“We lost her at fisting.”

- Eurydice, during a discussion about Captain Morgan’s power fist

 

“In my experience, cannibals always attack.”

- Pulveria, showing her wisdom in all things

 

“I switch to hellpistol and give them a little high-wattage love.”

- Tryft, switching weapons in battle

 

“I’m attached to this leg.”

“Not by much.”

- Pulveria and Vesper, after a monster nearly slices Pulveria’s leg clean off

 

“I’m not wrong. I’m just less right.”

- Morgan, showing her razor-sharp Captain’s wit

 

“Maybe if one of our acquisitions had been for fire extinguishers…”

- Vesper, after three simultaneous fires break out aboard the Tyrant Sun

 

“Prepare for the cleansing backhand.”

- Eurydice, typical retort

 

“Vesper, bringing peace to the universe, one airsick bag at a time.”

“Motion sickness makes strange bedfellows.”

- Vesper and Tryft, regarding how both mutants and missionaries fear Vesper’s flying

 

“You’re like a sentient alcohol-soaked scar tissue.”

- GM, regarding Vesper

 

“Gretchin and squig are just Ork sliders.”

- Tryft, regarding lesser Ork species

 

“Look, I landed it. I even used landing gear.”

“Yes, but you didn’t use ours!”

- Vesper and Pulveria, following a forced crash landing of a gun-cutter

 

“I’m going to subdue him by killing him.”

- Eurydice, showing typical Battle Sister tactics

 

“Have a few less Wounds and maybe I’ll come help you.”

- Eurydice, when Vesper complains that she never assists her in battle

 

-----

 

Lonewalker

 

 

 

Ewwww...Gretchin and Squig sliders. Not something I ever want to see on the menu at

White Castle's (:idjit:).

 

 

 

Major Tom 2009 :nonp:

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

Ewwww...Gretchin and Squig sliders. Not something I ever want to see on the menu at

White Castle's (:idjit:).

 

*googles Slider* Well, don't tell Benetek about the idea, or he'll demand them with every brunch.

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Re: Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

 

“Ready?”

“0! 0! 0! 0000!!”

- Vesper and Maretek, just before Vesper hurls Maretek into the open void

 

Amusing fun-fact: We discovered that the Tech-Priest's first language is something called Explorator Binary. So we assume that whenever he talks, he starts by saying "11001010001001110101001... Oh wait, none of you here speaks an actual civilized tongue, do you?"

 

“Prepare for the cleansing backhand.”

- Eurydice, typical retort

 

Backhand of Justice! One of these days, I'm going to borrow the Captain's power fist before I deliver one of my signature smackdowns. :slap:

 

“I’m going to subdue him by killing him.”

- Eurydice, showing typical Battle Sister tactics

 

He stopped being a threat after that, didn't he??? :bmk:

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