Let's try this.

[Commissar Molotov]

It's certainly the case that the board as a whole is quiet. You know it - you just need to do something about it. You know it, I know it. Time for you guys to do something about it.

So we're going to try something. If you're committed to the board - show it! I'm not talking about the old faithfuls, the old guard in the behemoth that is The Valthor Chronicles. You posters that want to have some fun.

I'm going to start a game. I'll be updating once a day, every day. Quick-fire, we're going to have fun, kick ass, take names. Ready?

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

THE HELL-HIVE

You're all young gangers deep in Hive Tempestora on Ork-infested Armageddon. The Arbites have been calling for "volunteers" and guess what -- you were volunteered. Squad 1, Delta Company, 88th Tempestora Hive Militia is now raised, armed with what simple weapons they have brought from home or picked up in the wreckage of the devastated Underhive.

Take a few short lines to describe your character. The chosen squad leader will be someone who keeps a close eye on the storyline.

Anything available to basic Hive Militia troopers (but not gang leaders) is OK (shotguns, laspistols, ccws, etc.). If you want something special (like a flamer) you'd better describe how your character scrounged or converted it (like, say, stealing an arc-welder from the docks). Cool stuff is hard to come by in a warzone.

Don't take the p*ss! This is an attempt to rejuvenate the board, so put effort in!

Here's an example of an NPC that'll be in your party:

---------

Name: Gideon Castlebeck
Height: 6'4''
Hair & Eyes: brown & brown
Armament: Shotgun, autopistol, Flak Armour, knife
Notes: An orphan from an early age, Castlebeck joined a particularly large and dangerous group of hivers called "The Desperados"

He became adept at fighting in the conditions of the hive, and eventually worked his way up to Gang Lieutenant. He was a trusted and respected (as far as you can be respected) member of the Desperados, and was tipped to inherit leadership when the Leader died...

When the jack-booted foot of Gazghkull Thraka descended upon Armageddon, Proud Hive Tempestora turned into a seething warzone - filled with the remnants of Imperial Guard companies, a few Space Marine squads, Orks... and the Hivers themselves, some of the most brutal killers in the Imperium. Yet they were unprepared for the sheer ferocity of the Orkish horde.

Castlebeck's gang was nearly totally destroyed during the defense of their local settlement. Castlebeck left, and became a loner and when the Arbites began to "volunteer" people for the Hive Militia, Castlebeck was unique in that he was one of the few that actually *did* volunteer. The Orks will pay for destroying his gang, his life... He's ready to fight for house and hive.

He wears practical clothing, and around his neck he wears a new shiny set of dog-tags, proclaiming his membership of the hive militia. Part of him welcomes the metal, it could be traded later... but surely the metal could be better used to make more bullets for the war effort.

Castlbeck hefts a shotgun, loaded with Solid, Scatter and Man-Stopper rounds. They're called "Man"-Stoppers, but he hopes like hell they're capable of stopping a charging Ork. He has an autopistol in a well-worn leather holster, there for easy access, and a vicious knife strapped to his thigh... but what self-respecting hiver *doesn't* have a knife?

IDEAS FOR CHARACTERS INCLUDE: The nimble and light scout or the heavy weapons guy. Go crazy!

*****

I'll be updating in approximately twelve hours. Get to it!

[Barret]

Name: "Crazy" Callum Gridh
Height: 6'4"
Hair & Eyes: Red & Green
Armament: Flak armour, knife, two-handed axe, triplex-pattern lasgun
Notes:

"Crazy" Callum Gridh is, well, crazy. And he's something of an enigma in the Underhive. No-one is sure where he came from, only that he showed up the better part of ten years ago and has been busting heads across the Underhive. Some claim he's an Imperial Navy or Guard deserter, a claim backed up by his precious triplex-pattern lasgun "Molly", with "her" stupidly high rate of fire. Others say he's from Uphive, but was exiled down for being crazy, and they point to the Tempestora ganger tattoos that have always covered him from neck to wrist and waist, and the fact that "Molly" has the Tempestora PDF glyph.

Whatever the case, and where ever Gridh is from, he's been a free agent for most of a decade, fighting for whatever gangs were in the biggest scraps and could pay the best. Gridh mostly uses his earnings for drinking, and drinking for starting fights, and starting fights for earning money. He's a big man, taller than most, and built like a giant fist, all bone and sinew and lean muscle.

Given his reputation and skill, it was inevitable that Gridh would be drafted into the militia, thought it's doubtful anyone had to do much to convince him. He and Molly love to put the hurt on people, and fighting Orks has got to be more fun than fighting gangers, right?

[Captain Seato]

Name: Bradley "Brad" Colmes
Height: 5' 10''
Hair: black
Eyes: blue
Equipment: Grenade launcher, stubgun, Flak Armour, knife
Notes: Brad's parents were killed as the refugee group they were a part of was caught in the crossfire during an Ork attack. Caked in mud and blood, with no one to speak for him, the orphan was assigned to the care of the PDF; in essence, he was conscripted.

This was a fortunate state of affairs, however, as the youngster was forever scarred by his experience and wanted nothing more than to have his revenge against the greenskins; being drafted was a step towards granting his wish.

When the jack-booted foot of Gazghkull Thraka descended upon Armageddon, Brad was one of the unbalanced few who welcomed the invasion (though he was a far cry from the doom-and-gloom fanatics obsessed with the endtimes), seeing in it the culmination of his training and burning desire to kill Orkoid kind.

He wears old military clothing, the camouflage colors faded, but otherwise serviceable. His dog-tags are wrapped in a piece of cloth and tucked away, so they don't make any sound as he moves.

Colmes carries a single-shot, breech-loading grenade launcher. It doesn't have the rate-of-fire of one of the automatic types, but Brad figures it's an acceptable trade-off, as it's slightly more accurate and the slimmer design allows him better maneuverability. He also carries a heavy stubgun in a relatively new, synth-leather holster on his flak vest, in easy reach, and a knife sheathed at the small of his back, hidden under the untucked back of his uniform shirt.

EDIT

Name: Marcus Meaney
Height: 5' 9''
Hair: brown
Eyes: green
Equipment: Heavy rifle, ammo, helmet, knife
Notes: Meaney was only recently transferred into the stockade for petty pilfering of supplies. He'd felt guilty, but there was a war on and could he be faulted for looking out for his own survival? But things were looking up, because almost as soon as he got to the stockade, he was drafted into the PDF. He'd always been enamoured of the Imperial Guard, and while the PDF wasn't exactly the Guard, the military was military, so what did it matter?

His "initial issue" equipment was a scrounged up bundle dumped into his hands. As soon as he put it on the ground to sling his rifle, someone rushed by and his webbing was gone. A second later, his flak vest. The third person who tried to grab his meager gear was whacked across the top of the head with the top of his helmet. Suddenly, stealing didn't seem as easily rationalized as it once did.

This post has been edited by Captain Seato on May 21 2007, 01:42 AM

[Fearrett]

Name: Nd'aka "Squirmy" Nielhund

Age: 26

Height: 5'4

Weight: 142 lbs

Hair: None

Eyes: Brown

Equipment: Most of the bog-standard PDF equipment, nothing designed for long deployments. Every thing's camo, either by design, or through painting. Even the eating utensils, of which there's one, a Spoon.

Armament: Long sharp piece of rebar, grip tape wrapped around one end, wide enough for both hands to grip.
Standard pattern lasgun, modified with the stock having been hacked off, a pistol grip crudely taped to the front piccatinny rail, and a nice pair of iron sights.
Single use zip gun, essentially a 1 foot piece of pipe with a scrounged bolter shell in the end. Stab someone with the open end, slide the plunger, bang. Big hole.
Short knife.

Notes: Nd'aka (pronounced Endakka) is the point man. The little scout, seemed almost from birth to have been bred for scurrying through the tunnels of the underhive. indeed, he has members of his family who were gymnasts in the uphive, before being banished downward for failing to perform perfectly at a performance. The family proved more resourceful than thought, and soon began a fruitful relationship with the various gangs, staying carefully neutral in their dealings.

Nd'aka has a bit of a quirk though. While most underhivers know only their immediate surroundings, Nd'aka knows the majority of the underhive. not every nook and cranny, but enough to have some escape routes available from most locales. Although, the orks have sharted that up a little bit. However, this still makes him invaluable in his role as the lead scout of his unit, as well as a general lookout.

This, unfortunately has stamped the mark of the Wyrd on him, and has kept him somewhat apart from the others, which suits him perfectly. He knows that when the Shart hits the fan, he can melt into the shadows and be long gone, while the others fumble in the dark.


ETA: Age

[Kolli-Ironbear]

Name: Gustov Penske
Age: 28
Height: 6'0
Weight: 200lbs
Hair: Bald
Eyes: Brown
Build : Pear Like
Loadout: Pump action shotgun, Mini-Sledge hammer, laspistol.

For 14 years, Gus has been a ganger. One with a bad reputation at that. Gus has a twisted form of compassion when it comes to other beings. For instance, he found himself locked up for two years before the orks invaded for crushing someones left scapula with a hammer - well, and the guy's arm too. When asked why he did such crippling damage to the other person, Gus merely replied "He lived, didn't he?"

It was in that dank cell that he would be beaten and left to rot had he not joined the militia. Sure, it was cozy, and talking to himself was fun, but he needed an escape, a way to connect with his fellow man again.

That, and the dogtags they promised him were shiny, and they told him he could have his hammer back.

Before entering prison, the man was built like a brick, but after two years of nearly solitary confinement - he bit another inmate - his physique is oddly lacking. Now, he resembles a very angry pear, complete with a ponch that just won't go away. Out of twisted pride, the man still wears his beaten up prison shirt beneath his flak jacket, the tattered orange a stark contrast to the drab olive green.

In a manner, Gus volunteered for the fight against orks - mostly he volunteered to leave prison. His motives were never altruistic. Life has changed outside the bars though, and he finds himself oddly amused. Caught in a fight he doesn't particularily care about, the only thing that occupies his mind is what colour is ork blood. He's heard that it's green, but he's a skeptic.

[Sanol]

Name: Nestor “Nessy” Tix
Height: 6’8”
Hair & Eyes: blond & blue

Armament: Nestor’s most prized possession is his “chainsword”, made from small chainsaw it was modelled to be wielded as a sword. It runs on almost anything that is liquid en flameable, at least that is what it’s creator said before being torn apart by it’s own creation. Next to his chainsword he carries a stubber found on a dead Ganger some and a knife that was stuck in the man’s back. The stubber is a standard Guard weapon, though the Ganger was definitely not a member of the Guard, and the knife is a homemade one. A piece of sharp metal with a handle pushed on it.
When he ‘volunteered’ for the he was given a Flak Armour. But he soon lost his pants somewhere. Just as he lost both arms of the vest, somewhere.

Background: Nestor’s mother was a whore, one who wasn’t really good at her job as they never had money, what he had was 12 brothers and sisters. He was born third or fourth, his mother couldn’t remember, and he didn’t care about it. When he was around 6 years old, his mother forgot when he was born exactly, he joined a small local gang in the hive that was ‘protecting’ their neighbourhood. It didn’t last long before he was in charge of the group.

He was smart, not anyone in the neighbourhood could say he wasn’t, but he was sadistic too. Somehow he loved the sight of people dieing slowly, he enjoyed ripping several pieces out of them too. His cold-blooded nature caused that none dared to oppose to him. So also the technician he asked to create a chainsword. The man did it and died when Nessy had a test run on the man.

He lived happily, maiming some people and enjoying the power he had, that was until the ork invasions began. Most of his gang volunteered for the guard, finally seeing a chance to get away from Nestor. It wasn’t something he appreciated, but things went even worse, he had to volunteer too according to some guardsmen. The 88th Tempestora Hive Militia would be his new home.

[Siggy]

Name: Josh "Mushy" Mator

Height: 5' 9

Hair and Eyes: Black and Hazel

Build: Stubby

Armament: Autogun, meat cleaver, large gutting knife, grenade

Tattoos: Tribal looking tattoos on both arms and a tattoo of a bear on his chest

Josh is in his 30's, being one of the oldest members in the militia. He used to be in one of the biggest gangs in Tempestora but no one is quite sure which. His tattoo's are generic, not betraying his old gang's identity. A couple of things are known about him. He was born in a different hiveIn the old gang he was a member of, he ran a butcher's shop which doubled as a safe house for over 7 years, a testimony to his cautiousness and his gang's prestige... He refuses to talk about his old life, rebutting any inquiries with a laugh and a casual shrug. This apparent casualness is betrayed by his odd habit of finding out what gang every member of his unit is from. Such caution much have a reason and it can only be linked to the past and why he volunteered for the militia.

Josh is built like a barrel and about as strong. He has taken well to the militia life and has shown unseen devotion to the Emperor for an uneducated ganger. His friendly, favourite-uncle manner has mostly gone down well with most of the gangers, even if some of them treat him with contempt. Those that have seen past this manner have found out a little about his past. He still weilds the cleaver and long gutting knife of his old trade and has now added an autogun to his weaponry. The scant practice that the militia has done has revealed his familiarity with firearms. This has not gone unnoticed with the rest of his squad. He has accepted what he is doing and ready to help fight the Orks off Armegeddon.....as long as it benefits him

EDIT

Name: Kenny

Height: 6' 1"

Hair and Eyes: Blald and Hazel

Build: Emancipated

Armament: Chains and autogun

History: Kenny served in the PDF in Armeggedon. During his service, he was unlucky enough to be captured by gretchin. He has been their slave for approximately 4 weeks in which time he has nearly become a walking skeleton due to very little food and their petty torture. He is barely sane and all he wants now is to get away from the gretchin. Strangely enough, he isn't that afraid of orks, it's the little ones that scare him....



This post has been edited by Siggy on May 24 2007, 11:48 AM

[Ovrebust]

Name: Eric "Stubs" Statten
Height: 6’4”
Hair & Eyes: Bald and brown eyes


Eric is pretty much a standard hive ganger, not to bright, follows orders without thinking much about them, and has pretty much no morale.

Eric was born into the ganglife since both his parents were members of the same gang, though Eric has always known that he was a "accident" which not even a abortion managed to remove. Knowing this had made Eric cynical and emotionless, and the only joy he manages to find is in death and destruction.

Eric likes BIG guns, and has gotten a hold of a heavy stubber from the arms of a dead offworld PDF'er. It makes lots of noise when it fires, it tends to put out a lot of damage in a short time, so its pretty much perfect for Eric, whose accuracy is less then perfect, but anything who can pour out lots of fire doesn't need accuracy anyways!
For close combat Eric has made his own twohanded "Battlehammer" as he calls it, its essentially spikes welded on to a iron ball, with a handle attatched to it.

Eric "joined" the PDF when a recruitement gang visited his neighbourhood, and smashed his face into a bloody pulp since he resisted, his nose is still just a smear and Eric earned the nickname "Stubs" from the recruitement gang since a stubber was what was used to give him his less the pretty apperance.

Eric didn't really care, a gang is a gang, wheter its PDF or lower level gangs.

[Commissar Molotov]

Our story starts at the small underhive settlement of Tox City. It's a stockade with maybe two thousand people inside. Orks have over-run the entire hive, they say. Even the Adeptus Astartes have been forced backwards. The PDF and the Hive Militia is the last line of defense. Gangers who until yesterday would've killed eachother on sight are now forced together and have to cooperate if they're going to survive.

A harassed-looking PDF Sergeant reads your names off a data-slate as his unit rushes to build the defenses around Tox City. They say a big attack is coming.

"Castlebeck, Colmes, Gridh, Mator, Nielhund, Penske, Statten and Tix, right?" He says, looking at the eight of you. He glances at your faces, peering into your eyes like a Ministorum Adept searching for wrongdoing.

"Gridh, you're squad leader. Hear that gunfire? That's the greenskins. Last we heard they're about three miles thataway." He thumbs to the west, towards a dark, complicated warren of holes and tunnels. The entrances are blocked from view by frenzied activity as soldiers go one way and refugees another. All are burdened with tools, packs, weapons and personal belongings.

"You boys are our first line of defence. Patrol out to the west, and support any other PDF'ers you meet. If the horde becomes too much for you, fall back." He shrugs. "That's about all I can tell you; communications are bad and we've no idea of the situation out there. Just get to it, and good luck!"

[G8Keeper]

Castleback stood with the rag-tag bunch of hive scum he supposed he would come to know as his "comrades". Judging from the in depth analysis provided by this Sergeant they were being pointed in the general direction of the enemy and told to go kill, it was simple, just the way he liked it.

As the sergeant finished his address Castleback could not help but wonder how much those PDF boots would fetch on the black market, being as inflated as it was. Maybe this little venture into no-mans land could net him the two things he yearned for above all others, profit and revenge.

[Barret]

Grinning widely, Gridh shoulders his oversized lasgun and steps in front of the raggedy 'squad'. "Oi, yeh there, Squirmy, and yeh, old guy," he says in his bizarre accent, pointing at Nielhund and Mator, "Yez two byes take point. And don' let the little bugge' outta ye sight, Mator." As he continues to sort out the marching order, Gridh pulls out his knife and starts carving sergeant's stripes into his bulging bicep. "Yez two big-toy boys," he continues, motioning to Colmes and Statton, "yeh byes stay wit' me and Molly sos we can' shoot stuff. Yeh, and yeh," Penske and Castleback, "Take t' flanks, and yeh," Tix, "Yez is rearguard. If'n yez shoots me in the back, bye, I'll shove Molly so far up yer arse, you'll be snottin' laser."

Blood running down his arm, his slides the knife back into his sheath across his chest, pulls the lasgun off his shoulder and points at their destination. "C'mon, byes! Let's go gets shot!"

[Fearrett]

Nd'aka nods to Gridh, "Yussir."

Shouldering his light pack, he makes a few adjustments to the strap, before pulling his length of rebar out, he starts moving against the press of the crowd, occasionally thumping anyone who gets in his way for too long.

The crowd seems to swallow his slight frame as he goes forward, almost disappearing. Only the odd yelp of pain highlights his position to the others.

((OOC: Once he's outside of the press, he'll wait for the others so they can plan their advance.))

[Kolli-Ironbear]

Penske licked his teeth as their new sergeant Girdh adressed em. The Alpha dog barks He mused to himself, cocking his shotgun with the tell tale shack ack, sound.

For a moment he stood, digging through his flak jacket, his hands finally fumbling across the shiny dog tags. Without breaking sight from them he took his place in the formation. Alpha dog said flank, so he would flank.

It's what all good mutts do. He grinned, seemingly to himself. "Now the mutts are to learn to fetch" His voice low but clear, addressing no one with any certainty - save himself.

It took him a second longer to release his dog-tags, letting them jingle against his armour as he took up vigil. Play time

[Sanol]

Nestor looked at the bunch of soldiers around him. "rearguard huh, well i'll shove something up yours if you even point that fething thing at me okay?" He turned around and prepared for the walk, taking place a little back from the group. "Ordering me around allready, the bastard," he muttered, "i'm the one who should be leading this bunch of sicko's." He grabbed his stubber thightly in his hands and ensured his Chainsword was ready to use. "So we going or what?!"

[Siggy]

Mator aknowledged the order with a nod and a smile. He started to follow the smaller scout into the human mob but lost him fairly quickly. Mator cursed the mother that had born him so short. He started bulling his way toward where he had last glimpsed the smaller man. The crowd parted with a few grumbles but a glance at the autogun cradled in his arms stopped anything developing further. Still surging forward, Mator continued looking for the lithe little man.