You knew life in the Imperial Navy would be hard, harder than anything you’d ever experienced as the seventh son of the House of Scathach. All your life, you had been told the glorious stories of your grandfather and father, and later your eldest sister sister, as they plunged into the void to wrest wealth and glory from the harsh galaxy. As you lay in bed, visions of mighty voidships aglow with the light of distant worlds filled your head and you knew that someday in your distant adulthood, you would see such a sight from a bridge of your own. Dreams of great space battles and massive victory celebrations followed you as you fell into the embrace of sleep.You knew the chances of ascending the warrant were slim; you had five other siblings waiting before you. The conspiracies of other Rogue Trader houses did not interest your family; even having a row between you was rare. If you were going to win glory from the bridge of a starship, you would have to enter the Imperial Navy. All this is rather far from your mind as you tumble past a raging Ork, his phlegmy war cry drowning out the battle raging around you. The stink of his breath hits you like a wild grox, though you manage to dodge his clumsily-swung chain-axe, which cuts into the deckplate with a shrill shriek. The sounds of racking shotguns and screaming men are faintly audible over the cry of steel ripping apart and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.
“GRAH! Git back here, ya slimy git!” The ork yells with frustration as you turn around, naval pistol in your left hand, chainsword in your right. As it peels the chain-axe out of the deck, you pull the trigger and send a storm of shot right into his snarling green face. It cries out, and you think you’ve gotten it…Until it lowers his head and glares at you with its remaining eye, green ichor oozing out of shallow cuts and holes. With another roar, it charges at you, head down and axe raised.[ ] Fire at it until it gets close enough for you to swing your chainsword. [ ] The pistol’s useless. We’re going to take him down the hard way.[ ] Call out for your armsmen, hoping their combined firepower will take it down.
[X] Join the ork in his WAAAAGH! We're gonna have a grand ol' time!
seconding grand ol' time. We're gonna be the next warboss!
seconding grand ol' time
>>19367705>>19367700>[X] Join the ork in his WAAAAGH! We're gonna have a grand ol' time!"Wait! Wait!" You cry out as the Ork's axe whistles over your head."I wanna join you! Wagh and all that! Look, I even come in green!" You gesture to your naval uniform.The ork stops, his head kneaded in confusion. "Wot, a humie joinin' da WAAAAGGGGHHH!? Don' be daff, ya ain't tuff enuff to join da WAAAAGGGGHHHH!" "C'mon, I'll prove it to you! Gimme a chance!" You holster your weapons and take the chain-axe from the dumbfounded ork. You study it for a moment, trying to figure out how it works. "Well, go on den. Shows me wotcha got. I ain't got time to sit and fester!" The ork's getting impatient, hands clenching over and over again as it waits for the return of its axe. "Okay, here it goes. OY YA GITZ! PAY ATTENTION!" The fighting around you stops as armsmen, voidsmen and boyz all turn to look at you. Revving the axe, you split the nob's head from it's body. "IZE DA BOSS, AND I SAYZ, GET DOZE HUMIES!"Ten years later, WAAAGGHH! Humie (your name was hard to pronounce) laid a trail of devastation throughout the Segmentum Tempestus, and your name was reviled throughout the Imperium as the greatest traitor since Horus. Orks throughout the galaxy flocked to your banner, knowing you would be the one to lead them to Da Big Fight At Da End A' Everyfin.>Roll d20 for a name.
rolled 19 = 19Best quest thread ever.
>>19367988>I wouldn't mind doing something Orky in the future, or having more Ork moments, but I lack the sheer level of creative-insanity that one needs for writing Orks. Deffwotch was great.
>>19367669>[X] Call out for your armsmen, hoping their combined firepower will take it down.We have minions. Use them.
>>19368065>[X] Call out for your armsmen, hoping their combined firepower will take it down."Armsmen! Stand and fire!" Your voice cuts through the melee echoing around you, but few of your men are in a position to help, locked in combat as they are. A few blasts hit the ork, however, who staggers and trips in his charge. The chain-axe bites into the deckplate again, flips over as it eats into the steel and flies past your face to embed itself into the face of an ork that was sneaking up behind you."Grah! Dat'z dirty, dat iz!" As the nob struggles to his feet, you rush forward and stab your chainsword into the top of his skull. With a wild yell, it flings its head back and sends you flying into a wall before collapsing one last time, ichor spewing from its skull into the air.
>>19368121>Still nameless, btwLook around, you see most of the orks dead or dying, the survivors locked in melee with unlucky armsmen. "Armsmen, form up!" You gesture with your pistol at a clump of inter-species wrestlers.[ ] Open fire, sacrificing the armsmen to finish off the orks.[ ] Charge in and stab the orks in the back while they're distracted.
>>19368139[x] AFFIX BAYONETS
>>19368139Hey, you said roll a d20, I got you a 19.Also, yeah, charge the Orks in melee, the Emperor doesn't need cowards in his navy.
>>19368139>[x] Affix bayonetsYou holster your pistol and raise your chainsword. Your armsmen understand what you mean to do level the bayonets hanging from the front of their shotguns."Charge!" With a furious cry, accompanied by the thunder of dozens of boots along the steel deck, you lead the armsmen into the fray once more. The Orks, caught up in their slaughter, are caught unawares and carved up into little chunks, such as you might see in a tartare. As the armsmen see to their wounded and dying comrades, the snap-crack of a whip cuts through the air.Behind you, crowds of menials and low-ranking voidsmen are driven back into the macrobattery bay by the unmistakeable figure of the fleet commissar. "Get to your stations, scum! Ensign Scathach! Get these man back in line!" Commissar Hirst's multiple chins wiggle as he yells out his orders, the whip cracking in emphasis. "Aye, commissar! Gunnery chiefs, get these guns loaded!" As you echo the commissar's order, you feel the ship shake around you. In the midst of the melee, you didn't notice the vibrations of the void shields as they strained to protect the ship from the rok your squadron had stumbled upon.
>>19368194I think you were supposed to volunteer a name and the highest roll got it.
Tristan Apheseus for the Name.
>>19368227The massive macrocannon shells are pulled out of the armored stowage bays and dragged by the menials over to the barrels of the macrocannon turret. As the commissar reasserts his authority over the armsmen your mate Elim, your fellow ensign and gunnery officer, runs up alongside you. "Nice job leaving that Ork to me, Elim." You punch his uninjured shoulder, a smile on his face."Oh, come on. You did well enough. Besides, I was busy getting my head bashed into the deck, if you forgot." The armsmen have already wrapped a bandage around his head, and the bleeding seems to have stopped. You're sure his thick head of sandy-blonde hair will hide any scar he gets. "Besides, I got to hear some of the commissar's voxes with the bridge when they bandaged me up. We're moving out of the rok's firing range soon enough; these poor bastards are wasting their time loading those shells." "The torpedo crews get the credit again, huh?" You sigh and shake your head. "Hey, you killed an Ork all by yourself! Got yourself a trophy and all that, yeah?" He slaps you on the back, making you wince as he hits a particulary sensitive bruise.
rolled 19 = 19>>19368248Ahh I thought we were pulling something from a table.Tristan Apheseus, why not.
>>19368291"That reminds me; I've got a tooth to loot. But we better wait till old Jellybelly gets out of here or he'll have me flogged seven ways to the Throne." You smile broadly, but quickly drop it as you approach the turret command console and Gunnery Chief Ables, your direct subordinate."Guns loaded, sir!" He snaps a sharp salute and breaks into a smile. "Gotta say, nice work clearing the bay, sir. Gonne getcha self a tooth?" "Oh, you know it Mr. Ables. One moment, though." Looking back at the milling armsmen, who are dragging the ork corpses out under the supervision of the commissar, you grab the voxhorn on the console."Guns, Turret Three reports loaded." "Acknowledged. Stand by for orders." The distant bridge officer cuts the connection and leaves you waiting for several more hours, until you feel the Cobra shiver with the firing of the massive torpedoes and the all-clear sounds. The commissar finally disappears up-deck as the menials and voidsmen reopen the gun battery, dragging the massive shell back out.
>>19368347>cobraIf my minimal battlefleet gothic experience has taught me anything, we've got a shitty life expectancy, but our squadron is liable to actually kill something before we're through.
>>19368336>>19368289>Tristan Apheseus Scathach it is then. You collect your trophy from the pile of ork bodies, joining some of the armsmen doing the same, before the disposal servitors send the bodies to be incinerated. The massive skull of the nob you slew sticks out prominently from the pile, and a few minutes work with your chainsword sheers a fang bigger than your fist free.Your ambitions are much greater than a small trophy like this, however. If you could, you'd love to be the officer credited for the killing of another void ship, even a tiny escort. Unfortunately, on a Cobra-class destroyer most of the kill credits go to the torpedo crews, and you can't see yourself getting promoted anytime soon. And even then, in the midst of an Ork Waagh striking into the Victorum Sector, credit for killing a Rok is a dime a dozen. If you had been posted to a frontline patrol, such as the Fury of Saint Castor, you know you'd have better luck. But the 38th Enforcer Patrol is a dumping ground for the incompetent, the lazy, the cowardly and the politically disadvantaged, and you are definitely one of the latter. Even the ships are nothing special; made up of destroyers so new they don't even have a name, just serial numbers. Your particular ship is the CT-381, the lead vessel of the squadron. If only you hadn't taken that stupid strategy course...>Any infodumps asked for?
>>19368386Exactly what I was thinking. I once played a game against a Dark Eldar fleet where my escort ships alone annihilated them completely, which was funny because I had more cruisers than I had escorts and their cruisers also outnumbered my escorts. I had one Sword left at the end and all of my cruisers were a couple of turns away at full speed.Also, wait, we killed a Rok? After getting boarded by Orks? This is the most hardcore escort ship in the fleet.
>>19368439Probably just a boarding torpedo or something. There's a lot to be said for standing 30cm off and dumping torp volleys into them.>>19368396Brief history of the war so far, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, and our specific ranking and responsibilities.
>>19368396>I wish my FLGS had anyone who played BFG...The smell of promethium fumes gets a little lighter as you open the hatch to your quarters, replaced with the musky scent of human beings. Your quarters are cramped and offer little privacy, seeing as you share them with half-a-dozen other ensigns. Elim is already lying in his bunk as you walk in, ork tooth in hand. You can hear someone, probably Marius, showering in the tiny bathroom at the back of the room. Theresa and Eurius probably went straight to their shifts from the battle, since you don't see any sign of them in the tiny room. Strangely though, you don't see any sign of Roswald, the third-shift ensign who also shares the room. Usually he's sitting at the tiny reading table, some dataslate in hand and a glass of water sitting on the table. You can see the dropped dataslate, but there's no sign of the thin ensign."Elim, where's Rosey?" You ask your bunkmate as you step towards your lockerbin. "No idea. Maybe you should ask Marius once he gets out; they're in the same section." Elim's voice is muffled as he flips over onto his good shoulder in an attempt to get more comfortable.The sound of pouring water cuts off as you stow the tooth next to the aquila talisman given to you by your parents and the house amulet from your grandfather. Quickly shutting the small sandalwood box, you close the locker and see the well-built Marius shuffling a towel through his dark hair.
>>19368506I wish I had an FLGS to go to. Try the Vassal 40k mod. Or using postits on the underside of GW flying bases. (I played Tau, positively rolling in them.)
>>19368439>>19368496>Ate my post. It was an ambush by a few roks looking to loot some better bitz. Infodump in the next post."You know, if Theresa was here you'd end up looking for your dick in the reclamation bays.""Hey, no one back home ever complained." But Marius wraps the towel around his waist anyway as he walks towards his own lockerbin."Glad to see you made it back in one piece. See any action down in the stores?" Elim asks teasingly."Ah...Nah, not really. But Rosey got drafted into an armsmen patrol on the way down. He's in the medicae now; I was just about to go see him" His voice drops a bit as he pulls on a fresh pair of breeches. Elim levers himself forward and looks at you with wide eyes. You know how he feels. Roswald might be a savant about naval history and a decent rangefinder, but the thought of him getting to blows with a jokaero, much less an Ork, is unbelievable. His arms are thin as Juddan snackstix, and he had to lie down after a regulation run in the gymnasia.[ ] Your sister told you horror stories about what xenos weapons could do to the human body. Go and see your friend.[ ] I'm exhausted, sweaty and wearing a stinky uniform. I'm taking a shower and catching my breath first.
>>19368496You are Tristan Aphesius Scathach, an ensign in Battlefleet Victorum, serving aboard the Imperial frigate CT-103. The seventh son of a minor Rogue Trader dynasty, you spent your life knowing your chances of ascending the Warrant were practically non-existent, and having that fact waved in your face by your older siblings. Rather than accepting your blessings and becoming a dilettante, you decided you would make your own path in life. Encouraged by your parents, you chose to pursue fame and glory by joining the Segmentum Tempestus Battlefleet. After years in training, you have finally been posted to a ship, a Cobra-class frigate so new and unproven it hasn’t even earned a name yet. As part of the five-ship 38th Enforcer Squadron, your ship is expected to patrol the Rimward reaches of the Victorum Sector and defend the interests of the Imperium from the predations of the Ork, the heretic and the occasional recidivist and smuggler. A difficult patrol in the best of times, it has been made much harder by the advent of WAAGGHH!! Grab’ngitz, which threatens to split the sector in half and lies at the very edge of the Enforcer’s patrol route. While you are still an ensign, by virtue of your noble birth you have been assigned to lead one of the destroyer’s gun crews and been given command over one of the macrobatteries of the ship. A position of great responsibility in such a small ship, usually a sign of greater things to come, it is tempered by the fact that being posted to a sector patrol when great fleets are massing for war and bombarding planets is generally a sign of disfavor by the upper echelons of the fleet. Still, the patrols are necessary to safeguard Imperial space and display the Pax Imperialis. >c
>>19368496There's a 5 in 6 chance a boarding torpedo will outright destroy a Cobra and getting boarded by a Rok would almost certainly destroy it. That'd be like having a USN destroyer boarded by a Marine division. This ship and its crew are pretty conspicuously gallant I'd say.
>>19368592Running a quest is one of the few things best done with a name and trip, Inquisitor.[ ] Your sister told you horror stories about what xenos weapons could do to the human body. Go and see your friend.[ ] I'm exhausted, sweaty and wearing a stinky uniform. I'm taking a shower and catching my breath first.[X] I don't need to catch my breath, but it is not befitting of an officer to go about looking unkempt - or at least the commissars might tell you that at swordpoint. Clean up briefly, then go see the man.
>>19368592>probably still covered in Ork blood[X] Shower first
>>19368592Clean up a bit, then swing by. Maybe bring him some food, if the mess hall serves better grub than the medicae wing.
>>19368608Waagh Grab'ngitz is the greatest threat faced by the Victorum Sector since its founding. In eight short years, it spread through half the Trident sub-sector, and led to the renaming of that region to the Trident Reach when the sub-sector capital of Poseidon was captured by the Orks. The fortress worlds of the Mylas Sanction, which ring the warzone, have been the basis for the Victorum sector's resistance, but Grab'ngitz has managed to besiege two of them and slipped his orks past the Imperial blockades. More worringly, the Poseidon route, a quick and stable warp route that runs from coreward to rimward, is constantly being assaulted by Ork raiders. Tens of thousands of guardsmen are waging war on nearly a dozen worlds and dozens of warships are being thrown into the voids between, but other threats still hold the attention of Battlefleet Victorum. Still, not being posted to a frontline warzone in a time of need like this is a calculated insult to you.As an ensign in charge of one of the CT-381's macrocannon turrets, you are expected to relay orders from the bridge to the gunnery captains and crews, as well as maintain proper order and discipline in battle situations. You are also expected to take charge of the defence of your section should the Cobra be boarded by hostile forces. As you are in the First Shift, you could be considered the "first" to wake up, though Captain Belgrano doesn't maintain a diurnal cycle aboard the squadron.
>well-written well-wrought quest thread>not in its 47th chapter
>>19368676We should spend time better learning our job from useful lore and naval tomes, as well as building up connections with other officers and seeking a mentor to propel us forward through the ranks until we're in a position to gain the captain and command staff's attention.If not someone at battlefleet command who's interested in gathering some politically disfavored people together for their own ends and exploit their need for us to move up the totem pole.>>19368665Seconding bringing him food.
>>19368712I know, right?Contributing spaceship porn.
>>19368609>They spewed out assault boats, we got boarded by them, we got out of range and fired torpedoes till they died.>>19368625>The board ate my post and my trip.>[ ] I'm exhausted, sweaty and wearing a stinky uniform. I'm taking a shower and catching my breath first."Let me get the stench of Ork out first and I'll be right there with you," you reply. "Maybe I'll swing by the mess and grab him something he can actually eat.""Alright. Elim, you coming?" Marius pulls out a freshly-pressed naval jacket, kept fresh for the nurses, out and starts to put it on."Yeah. Maybe they can give me something for the pain while we're visiting." ==]+[==You rush through the motions of showering, making sure to rub gently along your bruises and scrubbing furiously at the patches of green ichor that seeped through your uniform. Getting it done in record time, for you anyway, you use the full-length mirror in the bathroom to make sure you're as presentable as a navy man should be before rushing out. The mess is surprisingly full as you step in and grab some promising-looking soylens sandwiches. The medicae deck is unsurprisingly full as you step in, the lone medicae visible in the surgery bay. Elim and Marius are standing next to the window, looking in with grim looks on their faces.
>>19368728Shit....(Type it up in a word processor, OP. Copy-paste to the board.)
>>19368727What game's that from, Anon?
>>19368728>The board ate my post and my trip.Brotip: usan the back button after a post failure and/or noko may preserve these from gettin' eated.
>>19368747Also grab 4chan X for Firefox or the Chrome extension.4chan is too fucking glitchy a server to chance large posts on.
>>19368749Brotip secundus in case of lack of knowledge: max post size is two thousand characters and post content is supposed to stay in cache if you hit back but it is always a good idea to have a failsafe like an external app, etc.
>>19368759I was told it counts lines as double towards the count, though
>>19368765Can't confirm or deny that, will say that there is a max number of lines per post as evidenced from 'too many lines' errors when postan long lists.
>I can't see my own post, so...>>19368747>The Back-button was what ate my post; rather, I accidentally hit the "back" key on my keyboard.>>19368735>I really should.>>19368727>Is this real!? >>19368728You walk up to them, the sandwiches rustling in the waxpaper bag you're holding them in. "Is...Is he going to be okay?" "Dunno...poor bastard took some frag to the gut. I hear the xenos cover that stuff in filth before stuffing it into their grenades." Elim puts a hand to his mouth and cups his face as the sound of a bonesaw starts up."Golden Throne..." You shake your head as you watch the medicae lower the saw into the body on the operating table. The nurse turns around, glares at you and your comrades and closes the curtains, cutting you off from the gruesome scene. “Guess he won’t need these for awhile…” You say as you hold up the waxpaper bag, your appetite destroyed.“Oh, that smells pretty good. Gimme one.” Marius grabs the bag and pulls out a sandwich, passing it over to Elim who pulls out two and eats half of one in a single bite. “Tastes okay, could use more soylens,” he mumbles through a full mouth.“Wha-Rosey’s there fighting for his life and you’re wolfing down sandwiches!? How can you eat at a time like this!?” You throw up your hands in exasperation as Marius reaches for another.“Well, fighting takes a lot out of you. Besides, that’s not Rosey; that’s some poor bastard from Macrocannon Four! Rosey’s down in the back,” he says as he points with the corner of the sandwich.
>>19368793Take back spare sandwich that has not yet been eaten, replace in bag, go see Rosey.
>>19368741>>19368793I don't think so, or at least, I don't know. Could try tineye or google-image-searching it, but I can't actually say where it's from. Just happened to be in my poorly sorted spaceshipporn/bfg/imperial navy folder
>>19368810Tineye does nothing.Am currently looking through a list of 40K related PC games from yesteryear, that might help.
>>19368818That didn't help either. Maybe someone'll solve the mystery.
>>19368802This
>>19368810>I'm almost certain it's fake, but I pray it's not. It looks too much like Oregon Trail to be real though...>>19368793You grab the sandwich from Elim’s hand and stuff it into the waxpaper bag over his protests. Honestly, these jokers…Even then, you can’t keep a smile off your face as you walk past beds of bored and semi-conscious crewmen. As you approach the end of the deck, with a hatch leading to the medicae’s quarters, you see Roswald reading a dataslate, a cup of steaming tea on the tiny table beside the bed. A half-open medical gown shows a chest tightly wrapped in bandages, a few splotches of blood visible.“Hey.” You call out as you get close. Roswald looks up with a start, and drops the tablet onto his chest, wincing in pain as he does so.“Tristan…How…How nice to see you. I see you made it out unscathed.” Roswald gingerly adjusts his gown as he picks up the dataslate. You hand the waxpaper bag over as you sit yourself on the edge of the bed next door. The lightly snoring armsman doesn’t seem to mind. “Not quite; got a few bruises here and there that still smart. But what about, eh! Looks like you managed to be quite the hero!” You slap you hand on Rosey’s shoulder, who smiles painfully.>2000 characters? Makes these posts look light.
>>19368882Exchange further pleasantries, ask to borrow any books Roswald may have on gunnery that you haven't read, tell him about the trophy, wish him a speedy recovery.
>>19368882“Just a bit, I guess. I didn’t know I had it in me, to be honest. But when we got to Macrocannon Four, I knew what I had to do. The old lessons came right back…Or almost, at least. I riposted when I should have parried. Those things must weigh at least a hundred kilos! Still, the armsman who pulled it off promised to save the ear for me before the stench knocked me out.” You haven’t seen Roswald smile too often, but this is the biggest one you’ve ever seen. The young ensign brushes his black hair back proudly, only the second time you’ve seen him do it. “What about you? Did those bruises win you anything?” “They sure did, take a look at this!” You reach into your uniform pocket. And remember that you left the tooth in your box. “Well, I don’t have it with me, but I got myself a nasty-looking tusk from the monster that got into my section. And I’ll tell you, I almost didn’t make it out of there either…” As you recount the tale of your harrowing duel with the nob, embellishing as appropriate, Marius and Elim walk down the deck, tossing a Throne between them. “What did everyone else get up to during this whole thing?”“Oh, nothing as impressive as you two! Me and Marius better start running late to our own stations and try to get some of this action!” “Speaking of action, Rosey, you got any books on gun-what am I saying, of course you have books on gunnery. Mind if I borrow them?”“Of course not. The dataslate’s under my bunk.” He blushes at the trio’s stares. “I read it before I go to bed; it’s relaxing.” Wishing your friend a speedy recovery, you head back to your quarters for a well-earned rest. And to brush up on your reading.
>>19368946Learn how to better administer the firing of macrocannons and also on how to best integrate your gun's fire with that of the rest of the battery for best effect.So as to better be an integral part of shooting the fuck out of things.Sleep and stuff, then get up and try to meet some contacts in the officer's mess with which to better understand your crappy political situation and change it.
>>19368946>>19368946The dataslate was interesting reading, but you find yourself nodding off after the third treatise on the effects of cannon condition on travel through the interstellar medium. You fall into a deep sleep until Marius kicks you awake for not turning off the Judge Dredd alarm clock tucked into your bunk nook. For the first time you can remember, the shouts of “I AM THE LAW” did nothing to disturb your strangely fluffy dreams. After the events of the last First Shift, you find yourself nearly shivering with excitement as you step into the mess hall. You see third lieutenant Baisan, head of Torpedo Room One sitting with his crowd of cronies toasting their success again with glasses of synth-liq, a drink you’re sure is made entirely of negative alcohol and bitters. You see Elim and Marius eating with sub-lieutenant Sakai, head of Macrocannon One (FS) and the most experienced non-lieutenant of the ship, and ensign Jowells, head of Macrocannon Two (FS as well). Which isn’t saying much, but hey. Whoever is experienced is either an incompetent or a coward, in your experience. [ ] Try and break into the table of torpedo men. Maybe if you flash that ork tooth these arrogant snobs might let you in.[ ] Yeah, they’re really going to be welcoming to some up-and-coming ensign. Let’s go sit with our friends.
[ X ] Try and break into the table of torpedo men. Maybe if you flash that ork tooth these arrogant snobs might let you in.[ ] Yeah, they’re really going to be welcoming to some up-and-coming ensign. Let’s go sit with our friends.We have to make new contacts and friends if we are going to rise up in ranks.
>>19368986[X] Tell the torps-men they did a hell of a job, like you're Good Guy Greg, and that they're a credit to the navy. Rise to no bait. Then, go sit with your friends.We're from a family of the best and brightest. Grimdark cannot dim our optimism.
>>19369012Id agree with this, if these guys have been in the navy a while they're going to laugh and your measly single ork tusks. They've probably got lockers full.Go over, compliment them, let them know you exist and walk away. Terra wasn't built in a day
>>19368727If people are still wondering about this: it's not a real game, it's a shoop mixing this image with Oregon Trail.
>>19368986>[X] Tell the torps-men they did a hell of a job, like you're Good Guy Greg, and that they're a credit to the navy. Rise to no bait. Then, go sit with your friends.You walk over to the table of torpedo officers, who glare at you when you stop at the foot of the table. Before they can say anything, you bow slightly. “Nice job with those roks, sir. I’m sure the Navy is proud to have men such as yourselves.” Well, whether or not it’s really true, you think, it certainly sounds good and neutral. Third-lieutenant Baisan frowns before responding to you in starchy High Gothic. “…Thank you, ensign. I’m sure that one day your macro will receipt a piece of the action and you will get some praise of your own.” His tone isn’t exactly unkind, but the primness and arrogance in using High Gothic for an exchange like this speaks volumes of the opinion he holds of the gulf between you. What’s annoying is that it isn’t anywhere near as good as your own; being the scion of a Rogue Trader house has its benefits, it seems.“As you say sir, I await that day with gusto.” You answer in Low Gothic, to avoid provoking them, which isn’t what you came to do. Another slight bow, and you head off to join your friends.“…the torpedoes. The comet that was threatening the gas-mines on Forrus Ten? Destroyed by the torpedoes. The roks from yesterday? Destroyed by the torpedoes. What does a man need to do to get assigned to the torpedo room?” Marius is asking as you sit down with a hot salma omelet and recaf. You’ve never really talked to sub-lieutenant Sakai before; he’s your superior in the gunnery ranks but his position at Macro One is at the bow of the ship, whereas Macro Three is on the port forward. The same is true with ensign Jowells, stationed at starboard forward, though the fact that he is an ensign means you’ve seen him more than Sakai.
>>19369105How many pictures made for fun on /tg/ have ended up like this, dashing everyone's hopes in an unrelated thread weeks later?FUCK YOU CHAPTER MASTER GAME
>>19369105>AHA! /tg/ should make an OT mod or flash game like it though.>>19369108“Well, it’s not just about the kills you make, you know. Battlefleet is also about the experience you show, and the talent you demonstrate.” The sub-lieutenant frowns as he speaks, a floppy piece of omelet dangling on the tines of his fork. His wispy voice befits someone of his thin-ness, though you’ve heard that he used to split rails part-time before he entered the naval academy, whatever that means.“Yeah, but if we never get the chance to engage at all, what can we show!?” Jowells’ voice is surprisingly high for a man of his stature, though considering how young your fellow ensigns are you might have expected it. Now that you think of it, you haven’t really spoken to him before. Now might be a good time to make some “cronies” of your own.“Well, if you manage to kill an Ork nob and destroy the boarding party without much more than a scratch, I’m sure you can attract the right sort of attention,” you interject. Jowells looks at you, recognition dawning on his face while Sakai nods and shovels another piece of omelet into his mouth. “I mean, getting right into it brings you more glory than just pressing a button any day, am I right?” “Ah! I’ve heard the armsmen talking about you! Scathach, right? The ork you took down as the biggest one on the ship, they say!” Jowells omelet is quivering as he stabs his fork into it. “You’ve got a tusk, right? Can I see it?” [ ] No prob![ ] Sure, but keep it quiet, alright?[ ] Well, I kind of left it in my quarters…
>>19369128Sorry, what was that? Oh, are we gearing up for the summer codan run? Is our primary coder almost done with exams? Oh, ye of little faith.
>>19369128Isn't that still going?>>19369135[ ] Keep it quiet, we don't want to attract jealous attention or cause a scene. That would be unbecoming.
>>19369135[X] Show trophy. "Just as long as we can keep this from becoming an ugly rumor in the ear of the Fleet Commissariat, eh?" While they're fawning over the thing, ask about where onboard ship they most need someone skilled in High Gothic right now, maybe they've heard that a bridge officer's missing an assistant and your good grasp of the language can help you out.
>>19369177>Ooo, sounds like fun. I bookmarked you guys awhile back planning to contribute, but it looked like you had enough writefags.>>19369135>[ ] Sure, but keep it quiet, alright?“It’s right here. Just don’t cause a scene, okay? I want to prove I can get things done, not be a show-off.” You reach into the shoulder holster beneath your jacket; you used to carry a laspistol there when you were still in the academy, until you decided that no one was really gunning for the House of Scathach and your mother was just worrying too much. “Not much difference there, Tristan.” Elim leans in for a closer look as you pull out the tusk. You can barely get your fingers to close around it as you put it on the table, pointing at the ceiling. Jellows can barely disguise his awe, while Sakai simply glances at it and takes a sip of his recaf to wash down the salma. Marius tries to act disinterested, but he finally gives up and reaches out hesitantly to touch the thing, as if it were a about to sprout a fully-grown ork on the table.“Wow…”“If this wasn’t the Enforcer patrol, you’d probably attract some attention, Ensign. But this is the bottom of the fleet.” Sakai’s voice is surprisingly bitter. Looking away from the overawed officers, you turn you attention to the sub-lieutenant, who seems to be contemplating the depths of his recaf. “Those torpedo men might win some attention for helping the war effort, but right now Ork kills are a dime a dozen, and just having it spread among crewmen or low-rankers like us doesn’t matter. If you really want to get out of this shit patrol, you’ll need the attention of the upper ranks. And if you’re real lucky, you’ll get the attention of someone incompetent and connected, instead of skilled and blacklisted.”
>>19369290We'll never have enough writefags for the planned thousand events, which are structured KoDP style with storylines composed of several events being possible.So, uh. No, we don't have enough writefags. But I have no idea if we'll opt to reactivate the old forums when we come back from hiatus.
>>19369290The other ensigns are paying attention to the sub-lieutenants words too, the tusk passed back into your waiting hands.“Then, where can I get some attention? The macrocannons aren’t any good, not on a Cobra. If we get into a position where I can actually earn a kill, we’re pretty much in the Eye of Terror.” “Well, get out of the cannons. You, Kayon, you’ve got a nice spot there in the stores.” Sakai points a callused finger at Marius. “If you can show the quartermaster you know how to sort inventories and keep on top of things, you’ll be moved out pretty quickly by Battlefleet. As for us battery officers, well, we either need to learn a useful skill or get ready to play a long-waiting game.”A useful skill…“How useful would speaking fluent High Gothic be? I just heard an officer of the oh-so-vaunted torpedo rooms mangle it like an Ork axe mangles the deckplate.” Sakai raises an eyebrow, and Elim chimes in. “I can speak it like a noble too. Me and Tristan, we pretty much learned it as babes.” “Hm. I heard some talk from the up-deck officers, that the fleet confessor is looking for some temporary priests to lessen his workload on the other ships. And the astropathic choir is always looking for speakers to decode their transmissions. But ministering to the dead and hanging around spooks doesn’t do much for your morale, I’ll tell you that.”>And I think we’ll stop there for tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow at 5:30 PM, 4chan time.
>>19369314Ah, then I guess I'll try and contribute to the enterprise. I'll keep an eye out for news here, shall I?
>>19369290"Skilled and blacklisted's fine if I can learn something, maybe save a life or two in this grist mill, but I suppose I'll take what I can get." Grin at the man. "Any advice? I know High Gothic decently, could try for a vacant spot at some bridge officer's side if a spoiled-rotten aide got himself too drunk to work for a while, might manage to improve communication flow or something. Make someone's day easier in this pit."
>>19369334A thread is planned to go up when VBcoder informs whoever's listening that he's ready to get back into it up to the elbows. For now, I'm leaving that to him - he carried the project on his shoulders for a time while I was homeless without internet and generally unable to make huge threads and coordinate things and write.Anyway, didn't mean to derail the thread. Nice quest, by the way.
>>19367657sauce on the pic?SotS mod?
>>19369436It's a Sins of the Solar Empire mod. Doesn't play exactly like BFG, but looks awesome.
>>19369347Secondan this
>>19369503bampan
bump for a decent quest, for once
