8bitWizard

Characteristics: WS:71 (+7) | BS:38 (+3) | S:51 (+12) | T:52 (+10) | A:44 (+4) | I:34 (+3) | P:42 (+4) | WP:38 (+3) | F:36 (+3) Movement: 5/10/15/30 | Armor: Body 9, Rest 7 Wounds: 21/21 | Fate Points: 3/3 Madoc listened with to the mission briefing with his signature stoicism, his grim expression unchanging save for a nearly imperceptible frown at the chatter of his new squad mates. Such prater he found disrespectful in the presence of a primarch, but if Horus would not scold them for their well justified eagerness, then neither would he. The Master of the XVI was an affable man, capable of inspiring even an old curmudgeon like himself. Madoc could not deny the stir of excitement within him; it had been a long time indeed since he had taken to the field. To Madoc, it mattered not who delivered these orders. Whether they came from Horus, the Emperor, or even his own gene-father, the veteran swordsman had a mission, and he would carry out his orders to the utmost of his ability, and ensure that his charges would do the same. He was the most senior among them, both in age and experience, and so he would take it upon himself to guide these young astartes to victory, even if he did not seek the burden of leadership himself. The mission goals were simple enough: above all, recover the artifact, and following that, rescue the Magos and establish air superiority...and to his own desire, slaughter the foul xenos that stand against them. Madoc felt a twitch in his sword hand at the name of greenskin lieutenant, and selfishly he hoped for a chance to test his mettle against it. As Horus' briefing drew to a close, Madoc bowed his head more deeply, and crossed an arm across his chest, ceramite gauntlet thumped against his breastplate. "Aye, Lord Lupercal. As you command, so shall it be. Thy will be done." Madoc nearly permitted himself a grin at the Dark Angel's words. Eager he was, but weren't they all? It was a sentiment he could agree with.

Hey y'all sorry for the silence! I've been traveling, was in Amsterdam all week but heading home tomorrow. As for the Augury sessions, Madoc would be a wary but willing participant. Not inherently distrustful of psykers or librarians, but most Death Guard put their faith in brawn rather than brains, so to speak. Happy to play it out in RP PbP or privately, at the GM's preference. I should be able to respond in RP within a day or two, but I don't really have much in-character to add so Trish if you'd like to move things along, please don't wait on my behalf!

Characteristics: WS:71 (+7) | BS:38 (+3) | S:51 (+12) | T:52 (+10) | A:44 (+4) | I:34 (+3) | P:42 (+4) | WP:38 (+3) | F:36 (+3) Movement: 5/10/15/30 | Armor: Body 9, Rest 7 Wounds: 21/21 | Fate Points: 3/3 The arrival of Horus quickly shifted the gathered Astartes away from tales of past glories, quieting down and sharpening focus on the towering primarch. Madoc was impressed, although he did not show it. While he had hoped for his old eyes to witness the Emperor once again, he was not disappointed to see His premier son in His stead. A command from Horus was second only to the Emperor Himself, and Madoc wasn't about to refuse any such orders. To no surprise of his own, Madoc's presumption of their purpose was close enough. As far as High Command was concerned, all of them were among the best their respective Legions, each had some skill or talent to offer. Together, they would sever the vital arteries of the alien horde and help bring a swifter end to this grand campaign. Where other marines chimed in, adding their eager voices to the chorus of excitement for the mission to come, Madoc tempered his expectations, giving the Lupercal a firm, deferential nod. Such a mission might be considered an honor, but the greater the glory, the greater the danger, and considered his presence here was to mitigate that risk. There was little he needed to say that the other marines hadn't already. So the Death Guard stood still and silent, ready to receive his orders and execute them without hesitation.

Characteristics: WS:71 (+7) | BS:38 (+3) | S:51 (+12) | T:52 (+10) | A:44 (+4) | I:34 (+3) | P:42 (+4) | WP:38 (+3) | F:36 (+3) Movement: 5/10/15/30 | Armor: Body 9, Rest 7 Wounds: 21/21 | Fate Points: 3/3 Madoc's dark eyes turned to face Vorticar, staring in silence a moment longer than one should take to answer such a simple question. He took caution not to let his weathered face express the emotion behind it, the shame of his own failures, but slowly shook his head. There was no sense lying to his newest comrades-in-arms. "No." He said simply. A heavy pause followed, threatening no further explanation before the Death Guard admitted, stone-faced, "By order of my Legion Command, for the past century or so, I have been charged with overseeing the training of Barbarus' young neophytes. It has been my honor to shape them into soldiers worthy of the XIV Legion. This new assignment has relieved me of that distinction." Now that bordered on a lie. Sergeant Mannaw was not resentful of his duties and preformed them without complaint, but every pox-marked boy he'd seen rise to a man and don the armor of a Legionary was a bitter pill to swallow, at least until recently. His broad shoulders rolled faintly, feeling almost uncomfortable in his power armor. It had been a long time since he last wore it. "From what my brothers have told me, t'was a dark day to be had until the Emperor and his Guardians took to the field and slew the vile Blackfang. Ach, would that I could have been there, to see Him glorious battle once more..." Madoc trailed off as disquiet roiled inside of him. No doubt now they would see him as warrior past his prime, a washed-out mongrel fit only to teach the young dogs new tricks. Or worse yet, a liability: a tired old soldier keen on finding some honorable death at their expense. Let them have their misgivings; he would prove them wrong. He stood now on an Imperial flagship. By the day's end, he just might see his Emperor again... "Said you're with the 10th Company, aye? You must have fought on Krypt, then. Battle-Captain Garro spoke highly of Captain Loken, and his Wolves. Nary a finer a legion he'd rather fight alongside, he told me. I look forward to seeing Brother Nathaniel's words proven true." He nodded in cautious respect, eager to change the subject from his own 'honors' to another's.

Characteristics: WS:71 (+7) | BS:38 (+3) | S:51 (+12) | T:52 (+10) | A:44 (+4) | I:34 (+3) | P:42 (+4) | WP:38 (+3) | F:36 (+3) Movement: 5/10/15/30 | Armor: Body 9, Rest 7 Wounds: 21/21 | Fate Points: 3/3 Madoc raised an eyebrow at the Blood Angel's comment, unsure if he should attribute it to ignorance or simple naivety. The young Astartes had clearly never faced the Greenskin menace before, and as such the old Death Guard could not begrudge his lack of insight. He shook his head. "They're not suicidal, youngblood. Brave as any xenos I've seen--loathe as I am to call them such--the ork possesses a peculiar sort of cunning. They fear not pain, nor failure, driven only by their will to fight. Cut off their legs, and still, they'd crawl into battle. Cut off their arms, and they'd use their teeth as weapons. Cut off the head? Ha! The next ork is just as like to use it as a cudgel." His voice darkened, clouded by the pain of battles past, and Madoc reached out to lay a heavy hand upon Zorael's pauldron. The Death Guard veteran looked him square in the eye, his face deathly serious. "It is folly to presume mankind's own disposition upon the alien mind. Underestimate them at your peril." Realizing his sudden closeness, Madoc retracted his gauntlet from the crimson shoulder pad, almost looking embarrassed beneath his many scars. "I...have lost too many good men, neophytes and battle-brothers alike, to their wicked kind. I'll not lose another, not if I can help it."

Here's a short video explaining the comic: In all seriousness, it's a just 40k edit of an old Garfield comic. The original comic isn't particularly funny, and maybe that's why it's been meme'd so much. The internet has done some very strange things with Garfield, and this doesn't even scratch the surface of it.

Characteristics: WS:71 (+7) | BS:38 (+3) | S:51 (+12) | T:52 (+10) | A:44 (+4) | I:34 (+3) | P:42 (+4) | WP:38 (+3) | F:36 (+3) Movement: 5/10/15/30 | Armor: Body 9, Rest 7 Wounds: 21/21 | Fate Points: 3/3 Madoc could see the measured respect in Vorticar's nod returned but knew there was more to it. Doubt, perhaps? It would not surprise him to be judged by his age, just as one might be quick to judge the fresh-faced Zorael for his. Madoc was already ancient by Astartes standards, and each passing year did him no favors. He paid it little mind; they would see what he was still capable of, and be grateful for it, when he stood on the battlefield once again. "Tch! ...Greenskins." The word dripped off Madoc's lips like venom. "Nary a xenos more loathsome than an ork... Their kind is a blight upon the galaxy, a cancer to be excised and nothing more." Fewer words could express his hatred for the beasts, as savage a xenos as Madoc had ever faced, but his personal grudge against them had endured throughout the centuries. It would seem he was not alone in that hatred. A single twitch of a silver brow is all the response Madoc showed to the tech-marine's outburst, momentarily considering if he should scold the hulking Salamander not for his brief lack of emotional control, but for damaging the Emperor's property. Nonetheless, he decided against it, instead extending his courtesy with a nod to Vulker. "That anger will serve you well, lad. Remember it when you face them again." He turned his eyes towards the rest of the warriors, "Stupid as they may seem, never underestimate them: their strength nor their cunning. Matching their fury with your own is a good start, but it takes more wits than rage to fell a Warboss..." Whether or not Madoc has actually fought such an ork before, he keeps to himself. Somethings are better left unsaid.

To clarify, Orks are only one of several subspecies that make up 'Greenskins' which also includes Gretchins and Grots, basically space goblins. They rarely have a frontline combat role, and tend to serve orks as assistants, slaves, and/or food. Some lore videos would probably explain it better, but they're all technically the same species, even squigs, although the latter tends to be excluded from being called a Greenskin. That said, Orks and Greenskins are used almost interchangeably, as Orks tend to represent them as a whole. I had to read up on what Solo mode and Squad mode is about, and if I understand what the rulebook explained to me, we're all going to be in Solo mode at least for a couple of missions. It represents us as individuals operating as a unit, not used to working with marines outside our chapter (or legion, in this case) without the trust and cohesion of a well-trained unit of warriors. Whereas Squad mode represents us as we've grown accustomed to fighting alongside marines of a different chapter, and our squad of warriors is stronger together as a result. What I don't know is if Solo mode skills resume if we're acting alone on the battlefield for any reason, or when Squad mode effectively kicks in. For the latter, I presume it is at the GM's discretion.

Characteristics: WS:71 (+7) | BS:38 (+3) | S:51 (+12) | T:52 (+10) | A:44 (+4) | I:34 (+3) | P:42 (+4) | WP:38 (+3) | F:36 (+3) Movement: 5/10/15/30 | Armor: Body 9, Rest 7 Wounds: 21/21 | Fate Points: 3/3 Madoc looked away from his whetstone to glance up at Zorael, his coal-dark eyes unreadable as he took measure of the apothecary. The Blood Angel hardly looked any older than Madoc's age when he was first made into a legionnaire, but youthful visage was hardly a means to assume the age or experience of a son of Sanguinius. He didn't respond immediately, rather taking heed of Zorael's words. Damn charming those angels, and now Madoc felt a fool for brandishing a weapon, no matter how small, in the halls of the Emperor's most sacred flagship. Here in this gilded war palace, the risk of sudden ambush was impossible; old habits die hard. With grunt, Madoc rose to his feet and sheathed his knife, standing a good few centimeters above his red-armored gene-cousin. "You want advice on staying alive, youngblood?" His gruff voice still lilted with a particular Terran accent, a relic of the Old Night. "Don't die." The wrinkles around his eyes creased in smile, breaking the stare with a rough chuckle. "Make no mistake--we would not be summoned here to the Imperator Somnium were any of us the least among our legions. None of ye are fools. The Emperor would not suffer them aboard his flagship." Madoc was cautious not to flatter them too much; being a teacher, he could tolerate, but the last thing the old sergeant wanted was for them to look up to him as their leader before the mission was even known. That responsibility would be far better suited for another, such as... He turned to Vorticar, the shrewd-eyed wolf among them, and felt an odd sense of relief at his presence. The Lupercal's scions inherited his natural talent for command, and Madoc knew he'd feel far more comfortable serving as second, or even third should another prove more fitting. Madoc nodded at the man, a measure of respect offered to few.

Thanks! 😄 When I played RT with Trish previously, my character all shooty to the point I'd scared of putting him into melee, although I later discovered that powerfists tend to level the playing field... Once I saw where the dice landed building this guy, I decided to go all in on a melee tank! If we make it far enough, I'm looking to commit to the bit and advance some levels into Champion.

Characteristics: WS:71 (+7) | BS:38 (+3) | S:51 (+12) | T:52 (+10) | A:44 (+4) | I:34 (+3) | P:42 (+4) | WP:38 (+3) | F:36 (+3) Movement: 5/10/15/30 | Armor: Body 9, Rest 7 Wounds: 21/21 | Fate Points: 3/3

Characteristics: WS:71 (+7) | BS:38 (+3) | S:51 (+12) | T:52 (+10) | A:44 (+4) | I:34 (+3) | P:42 (+4) | WP:38 (+3) | F:36 (+3) Movement: 5/10/15/30 | Armor: Body 9, Rest 7 Wounds: 21/21 | Fate Points: 3/3 Among those gathered, there is at least one seemingly unimpressed by the grand opulence around them, nor the cautious awe of the midshipmen bustling about. A weathered Astartes sits to himself, far more preoccupied with keeping the edge of his knife sharp than gawking at any ostentatious displays. As far as he was concerned, he had no need for art or decor. He was a weapon, nothing more, and the sooner the rest of them realized that simple fact, the better their odds of survival would be. As the chatter begins among his fellow gene-warriors, Madoc can't help but scoff under his breath but quickly recomposes himself. They're just lads. Can't judge them too harshly. He was like them once, bright-eyed and eager to seek glory in the name of their Emperor. A part of him wished he could still share in that barely suppressed excitement, the enthusiasm to be selected in this special assignment. He had seen too many battle-brothers just like them fall before and knew that his summons meant only one thing: he was here to keep the rest of them alive. The old guard clears his throat, sitting up and leaning on his crimson-capped knee. He offers what he thought was a smile, but the twist of his scarred lips comes off more like a sneer. "Madoc Mannaw. Scout Sergeant, Fourteenth Legion." He introduced himself with coarse voice. For a brief flash, a thoughtful look crossed his face. Not so much with the scouts anymore, was he? No matter, he didn't feel like correcting himself, and resumed the slow, methodical scrape of his whetstone across steel, eyes focused on the mono-edge. He'd leave the flowery words of inspiration to the priest, and those who needed to hear them.

Howdy everyone! Despite the age of my account, this is my first ever game on this platform, although I have played with Trish before in an RT game that she has GM'd that we're nearly(?) finished with. She's always been trying to get me to play in more of her RPGs since I've known her but has finally managed to bully convince (😜) me into doing so. While I haven't played a PbP sort of RPG in...wow, nearly two decades, going way back to Gamespy forum RPGs, I'm a fairly experienced roleplayer, especially so more actively over the last 5 years. I'm reasonably knowledgeable about Warhammer, albeit much less so about 30k and the Horus Heresy setting. Never read any of the books, although I do have the first HH novel collecting dust on my shelf. Before the previously aforementioned RT game, my only experience with the setting came from video games such as Dawn of War, so I am quite excited to try this unique pre-Heresy DW game. IRL I work in software development as a QA, so programmers beware! All jokes aside, I'm a very easy-going person and likewise extend the invitation to comment, critique, suggest or otherwise engage with me. I'm looking forward to playing with you all!

Madoc Mannaw Death Guard Assault Marine Rank: I (XP: 0/12000) Wounds: 21 Fate Points: 3 Movement (in PA): 5/10/15/30 Demeanor: Stoic Specialist Ability: Wrathful Descent Deeds: Lone Survivor No Quarter Given Characteristics Total Weapon Skill 7148 Base roll +5 WS from Death Guard Legion +5 WS from Thine Arm be the Scourge of the Impure +5 WS from A Hero's Shame +5 WS from Advance taken (200xp) +3 WS from No Quarter Given (500xp) Total: 71 Ballistics Skill 3838 Base roll +5 BS from A Hero's Shame -5 BS from Thine Arm be the Scourge of the Impure Total: 38 Strength 51 (76)46 Base roll +5 from Advance taken (200xp) Total: 51 +25 from Mk2 ‘Crusade’ Armour Modified Total: 76 Toughness 5247 Base roll +5 from Death Guard Legion Total: 52 Agility 44 Intelligence 34 Perception 42 Willpower 38 Fellowship 3639 Base roll -3 from Lone Survivor (100xp) SKILLS Awareness Concealment Literacy Silent Move Ciphers (Legion Runes) Dodge Navigation (Surface) Speak Language (High Gothic, Low Gothic) Climb Drive (Ground Vehicles) Pilot (Personal) Tactics (Any) Common Lore (Legiones Astartes, Imperium, War) Intimidate Scholastic Lore (Principia Belicosa) Tracking TALENTS Ambidextrous Astartes Weapons Training Autosanguine Bulging Biceps Counter-Attack Hatred (Greenskins) Heightened Senses (Hearing, Sight) Killing Strike Nerves of Steel Quick Draw Resistance (Psychic Powers) Swift Attack True Grit Unarmed Master STANDARD WARGEAR: Mk2 Power Armor "Crusade" (A Hero's Shame, Thine Arm be the Scourge of the Impure) Astartes bolt pistol 3x Astartes frag grenades 3x Astartes krak grenades Astartes combat knife Repair cement Astartes chainsword Astartes jump pack --- BACKGROUND: Madoc Mannaw is a veteran among veterans, having served the Adeptus Astartes for over 500 years since the height of the Unification Wars. He was there when the techno-barbarian warlords of Old Albia finally bent the knee to the Emperor, resplendently clad in crimson and white and promising them glory among the stars. Despite his age, he was chosen for his potential for the Astartes program, and Madoc was among the first to bear the colors of the XIV Legion. Later, when his gene-father stood before him and his brothers, he was among those named Unbroken. As a Dusk Raider, and later Death Guard, Madoc was noted among his superiors for his remarkable strength and bravery, but lacked the sort of talents that would have him considered for a leadership role. However, after centuries of exemplary performance, the opportunity was bound to present itself. When it finally did, his superiors' concerns were tragically proven well founded. The exact details of Sergeant Mannaw's first command assignment are largely unknown, the record having been sealed by order of his First Captain. However tight-lipped Madoc may be of what truly happened, one thing was clear enough: not only was his mission a failure, his entire squad was lost, their gene-seed unrecovered. Madoc was stripped of his power armor and demoted back to the scouts, his rank retained only to ensure that Barbarus' new recruits would benefit from his wealth of experience. Shame is a powerful motivator, and Madoc took his role over the legion's youngest charges with utmost severity, fighting and training with rookies a fraction of his age. While not every neophyte becomes a true Astartes, nearly every scout marine under his direct command survived to earn their power armor, often at great risk and injury to himself. Reckless, perhaps, but no matter his wounds Madoc recovered quickly, determined never to fail in his duty again. After dozens of decades in humble penance, the Legiones Astartes descend on the Ullanor Sector, and Madoc has been returned his power armor and cleared for frontline duty again. Possessed with an unwavering determination to keep his battle brothers alive at all costs, Madoc brings centuries of combat experience to every battle, and fights like only the blood of the Emperor's enemies can wash away his guilt. --- PERSONALITY: Madoc is not a prideful person, at least not outwardly so. True to his Albian roots, the grizzled marine carries himself with a calm, collected confidence that only centuries of active duty can bring. The bravado of his warrior past has mostly been drilled out of him in favor of the brutal efficiency of tactical Astartes warfare, but the glory of single combat has often led Madoc to putting himself in reckless situations. As capable as your average marine with a bolter, melee is where the long-serving sergeant truly shows his skill. His demeanor can oscillate between oddly affable to blithely caustic. He isn't one to shy away from regaling his brothers with tall tales of old Terra, the Unification and beyond, but he cares little for making friends or earning the favor of his commanders. While privately distrustful of the direction he has seen his legion go in since the discovery of their primarch, Madoc nevertheless remains dogmatically loyal to the Death Guard, and the Imperium at large. Indeed, he's only collected two motivations over his long, long life: bringing death to the enemies of mankind and ensuring his battle brothers stay alive so that they may do the same. --- DESCRIPTION: If you were to ask Madoc how old he was, he'd tell you to mind your own business, mostly because he isn't entirely sure himself. Born sometime near mid-M30 in the smoke-choked spires of Old Albia, Madoc was once a wild techno-barbarian warrior, a veritable bear of a man who barely made the cut, recruited to the XIV Legion in his late 20s. He survived the process when most his age did not and the burly Albian became even more imposing, nearly rivaling the Thunder Warriors he once fought against in the name of the Ironside warlords. Madoc may be of large stature, even among his unnaturally large peers, but his visible age sets him apart even more. His close-cropped hair has long since turned grey, as has his beard, longer kept and styled in the fashion of old Albian customs. His face has scars over scars, as does much of his body having fought more of his career out of power armor, rather than in it. Dark eyes sit beneath a consistently creased, silver brow, and his flat nose is slightly crooked, having been broken and reset more times than he cares to remember. His armor bears fewer scars than one might expect for a veteran of his caliber, having seen most of its use when he still bore a red right arm. Typical among his legion, Madoc's power armor is unpainted, save for his heraldic pauldron in dark green, but in a rare display of self-expression, the left kneecap of his armor remains painted crimson--a symbol of his origins as an old Terran Dusk Raider and one of Mortarion's Unbroken Blades.