Inquisitorial Penal Regiment Veeky Forums: Operation Cluster Fuck Edition

Alright... There shouldn't be much more left inside the bunker. So keep your eyes open, and be ready for anything!
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1d4Chan: 1d4chan.org/wiki/Campaign:Penal_regiment_designation_Veeky Forums

Steam Group: steamcommunity.com/groups/40k_penal_regiment.

FAQ:
>Why don't you guys move to quest?
We're not a quest that's why. Quests are directed by a single GM giving choices to the players, this is completely freeform.

>Then what the fuck is this?
Somewhat of a campaign of crack-infused free-form roleplay set in the grim darkness of the far future.

>When do you guys make these threads?
Usually mondays at 4PM GMT, but they sometimes extend to Tuesdays if we got caught in the middle of something when the thread died and it was too late to make another one the same day.

>Can I join in?
Sure, just think of a character and have fun, you can find most info in 1d4chan albeit it's ussually a little bit out of date in comparison to where the threads are.

>Is there any requirement in character creation.
Not really, we've had Xeno infiltrators, Chaos infiltrators, Villains, Heroes, Normal Guardsmen, Crazed Guardsmen, Assassins, Psykers, Space Marines, Inquisitors, Squats... just think whathever and join the fun.

>Is it allowed to have more than a single character?
Yes as long as you don't use it to powerplay.

>So how you guys do the playan'?
We tend to use spoilers for OOC chat, but nothing is set in stone.
We tend to use greentexts for describing a character's actions, but again nothing is set in stone.
Use d20s for combat checks and d100s for other things you want to roll, higher Is better.
It's important to know that the regiment is now in the employ of a radical Ordo Xenos Inquisitor, with influence from an Ordo Malleus Inquisitor and under the watch of an Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor. Yes we've been through a lot of shit.

Other urls found in this thread:

discord.gg/SGpyq
twitter.com/SFWRedditImages

For anyone new to PR, please feel free to come and join us in discord

discord.gg/SGpyq

>Deckard slowly advances behind Malak
"Uhhmm...yessir!"
>He shivers and gently strokes the pearl in his pocket
>Alexei merely advances, carefully observing the surroundings

>The maintenance tunnels end after that ambush of cloaked tzeentchian culstists and the attack of nurglite abominations, leaving the imperials with a clear path to the underground complex, whatever they came for is so close they can almost taste it

>the tunnels lead to a underground concrete hallway with flickering lights, its large enough to fit medium sized vehicles trough it and got sets of rails going into a central garage area, this seems to be a underground military outpost used by the imperials before it got infested with chaos

>the ooze trace of the nurgle abominations lead trough the empty garage area to the infirmary, the interior looks to be recently abandoned, the air reeks of ambush with hushed voices and bangs of metal in the dark

>the infirmary doors are sealed

>Isabelle would quickly follow alongside the others. Her eyes open for anything out of the ordinary.

>Deckard knocks on the infirmary door
"Hello?"
>Alexei merely sighs and looks around for any threats

>Deckard can hear a hoarse messy gugrly breathing on the other side of the infirmary doors, sounds weak, and the window next to the door looking inside the infirmary does not show much but a single table with a humanoid on it with many devices around him, still glowing and beeping
>he can't see much more since the glass window is stained by some kind of muck

>Everyone roll a d100

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>Peeks in

>first roll for Kane
>second for Alexei

Rolled 76, 36 = 112 (2d100)

Rolled 91, 68 = 159 (2d100)

>Kane and Isabelle can hear the faint thumping of a pair of legs from an open side corridor
>thump...thump...thump...thump...
>with a slight hiss of power armor hyraulics, heavy

>Ragaa and Alexei cant hear shiiiet

Rolled 87 (1d100)

Isabelle would quickly take a position behind cover.
>Malak would quietly signal for the others to follow after his sister's lead.

>brehend sees it too, but along with that he notices that the human in the infirmary has no legs from the knees down

"THAT'S NOT FUCKING GOOD!"
>Deckard yelps and jumps into cover
>Alexei looks around, confused

>Behrend revs his eviscerator and takes a defensive stance
>his brothers ready their bolters

>Glances at Deckard and Behrend, confused, as he leans to the glass

>The figure stomps into view, trailing behind it a trail of slime, fluids, pus and blood, a suckling sound follows every stomp of it's booted beet as the helmet turns and looks at the imperials in the room

Greeting upon you all... living corpses of the emperor.. you might be unrotten and walking now.. but soon, you shall be relieved of both... embrace death.. now.. or later..

>the nurglite terminator takes a moment to pick his first target, in no rush

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>Alexei fires upon the thing's exposed stomach
>Deckard stays hiding in cover

>turns to see the source of the voice
Damn... Yer look as if yer had taken a walk on Dusk!

Rolled 1, 3 = 4 (2d20)

Die, traitor.
>Behrend's tacticals open fire and he closes to melee

Rolled 17, 10, 16 = 43 (3d20)

>Malak quickly takes to cover, before firing a shot at the Terminator with his Melta gun. First roll.
>Isabelle would try to take aim at at exposed part of the Terminator, before firing off two blobs of boiling hot Plasma at him. Last two rolls.

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>the shots hit and miss, the goo explodes in tiny ammounts from the shots, staining his armor even more, but he does not even aknowledge it

>the shots bounce off his armor effortlessly like pebbles from a steel plate, the Executioner's chainsword swing scrapes off some muck and rust of the armor

Truly..saddening..what our kind has become..

>he raises his powerfist and smashes it into Behrend

>The melta gun shoots at his pauldron, partialy burning trough it, the air gets thickened by the stentch of burning rotting flesh, but the marine does not mind

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>Alexei breathes in and fires again, aiming again at the weak spots, firing off a volley
>Deckard hums nervously behind his cover

Rolled 14, 12 = 26 (2d20)

>Malak quickly takes aim once again at the Terminator before him, before firing off another shot of his Melta gun. The air sizzling slightly as the water vapour in the air is boiled away by the shot. First roll

>Isabelle takes careful aim so that she doesn't hit one of the allied space marines with her next shot. Silently praying to the Emperor that it connects this time. 2nd roll

Rolled 6 (1d20)

Abandoning mankind is not a point of pride, traitor.
>Behrend performs a vertical slash with his eviscerator

>regains his wit and draws his chainsword

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>the volley hits his gaping belly wound and it's contents spills on the ground in a puddle of slime, intestines and large insects, it sounds like the runs

>the melta and plasma shots connect and the terminator's weakened shoulder is seared trough, detaching the bolter arm from it's body, it rattles on the ground

Truly.. annoying..

>the slash leaves nothing but sparks on the thick armor

>he raises his powerfist again and swings at the space marine the second time

Rolled 20, 15 = 35 (2d20)

>"Getting real tired of these fucking Chaos Space marines!"

>With this thought, Malak would take careful aim with his Melta gun, before firing it at the Terminator's exposed body. Hoping that the shot will disintegrate enough of the man's innards to finally end his life. First roll.

>Isabelle would quickly take aim, and begin firing Plasma shots at the Traitor. 2nd roll

>he tries to charge the las gun and throw it at the nurgling

Rolled 1 (1d20)

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>Behrend is knocked against the wall and falls to the floor
>rolling for how quickly he can get to his feet

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>leaps towards the marine, trying to shove the chainsword into the hole where the Marine's arm was

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>the thrown lasgun bounces off the armor and hits malak's meltagun barrel, knocking it slightly off-aim as he fires, his shot burns off the lower rear of the terminator armor, exposing the nuglite's millenia old buns, now crispy black

>Isabelle's shot hits his collar armor/faceplate, burning just enough for Behrend to see his bleached white eye as the terminator raises his boot and stomps down on the space marine

>he manages to shove the blade inside and gets a flood of blood out, but nothing much is done as he misses every major organ

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>Annoyed and tired, Alexei jumps on the thing with nothing but his knife, stabbing at the opening in his faceplate

>The boot misses the marine and steps on a plasma grenade on Behrend's belt, all of the explosive force is sucked up by the terminator's leg making it explode spectaculary in a shower of gore as the warrior tips over on his side like a beached whale

Truly.. embarrasing..

Rolled 2 (1d20)

Yer damn ugly son of a night blighter!
>Starts stabbing the hole at a rapid pace, trying to dig out all of the mrine's vital organs and fluids that way

Rolled 13, 20 = 33 (2d20)

calling bullshit on that lasgun shenanigans!
>"Fucking Penals! Learn when to shoot and when to get yourself killed suicidally! Fucking idiot!"
>Cursing his luck,l, Malak would once again take careful aim, before firing his Melta gun at an exposed area. Praying to the Emperor he either kills the charging penal, or the Terminator with his shot. First roll

>Isabelle is somewhat amazed at the luck that has befallen her brother. But she is quick to regain her composure, before taking aim, and firing a shot of plasma at the marine. 2nd roll

>the two pick apart the terminator in a spectaculary messy fashion bit by bit as the nuglite talks something about the inevatability of death

>the superheated weaponry hits the nurglite's torso and make it swell from the heat before it erupts in a shower of bloody bits and diseased ooze

>the terminator is now as plit open shell of a terminator armor and a mutated skeleton in it

>he pulls out the skull and crushes it between his hands, before taking a deep breath, and calming down, still panting
>he turns to Malak with an apologetic nod
>Deckard pops out of the cover
"There ya go!"

>gets drenched in the shower of gore
... Reminds me of home. Maybe one day I'll get the smell of rot from me clothes... This ain't helping, though.

How does one make a penal legion without paying extorionate prices for bits?

>the dead are propery dead now and the hallway he came from is clear, the doors to the infirmary are still sealed with the general on the other side

>the garage reeks from nurgle fumes and several guardsmen vomit from the smell of burned nurgle ooze

>......

>roll d100 not to throw up

Imperial entry!
Wait.

Aw, i was too late.

>Even with his face hidden by the carapace helmet on his head. The Vostroyan man can tell that Malak is pissed by what had happened. But otherwise, he neither says, nor does anything against the man. Instead, he merely picks up the man's rifle, before shoving it once again into his hands and walking away.

>Isabelle however, continually turns her head to face both her older brother, and the Vostroyan. Unsure as to weither or not she should try and get between them. Just incase something were to happen.

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>A stench Alexei knows too well...
>However...Deckard...

Rolled 11 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>+10 for home world

by having the coverage of the Inquisition?

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>hold it in...

>he barfs all over the floor and the nurgling corpse
"Argh...ghahh...ppuh..heheh...just like the toilet at Charlie's"

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>gives the sickness a comissar's death stare

>BLARGHARGH

>tissue, wipe, fold, put away, act like it never happened

Rolled 77 (1d100)

Suppose it wouldn't be fair if i didn't roll for Alexei

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>His helmet's filtration systems keep the smell from getting to him, as his experience as a soldier has made him numb to the carnage as well.
>Isabelle however doesn't feel so good from the pale look on her face. -20 to roll

>holds it in, but only barely
>until it builds up enough to rise into the nostrils
>unleashes his earlier meals, including three ration bars

>The radios crack in with heavy interference.
...eat: what is your location?!

>he growls as his nostrils are filled with the stench
>he twitches and holds it in

>Knowing she won't last another second. She quickly runs back a few feet, before "blowing chunks" everywhere.
>One would think the amount of vomit coming out of such a diminutive trooper would be impossible...
>Tears quickly start to run down her cheeks as she can do nothing but vomit from the sight and smells...

>responds
No thank you, i'm not hungry.

Liuten----ally made contact with the group that---rough the tunnels I see. What is your current location?

>He'd answer the Vox.

Directly outside the medicae Mi'lord. We've taken some casualties, but have found our target.

>adjust vox
What?

Were in an underground bunker.

I'm not far from your locat--

I am heading there, encountered minimal resistance on the wa-

>Boltpistol shots are heard.

>The sounds of vomit hitting permacrete can very well be heard by everyone in the group at this point. Even as Isabelle runs out of half digested food from the morning meal, and begins to vomit up stomach acid and bile.
>The thought of how someone could ever do such things to.either people, or animals, continues to race through her mind, her eyes watering up, with tears following suite.

>he peeks into the infirmary, wiping his mouth
"What hides in here..."

>there is no keyhole, its a solid metal bulkhead door that would need power to open, power power or space marine power armor power

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>sighs and kicks the door annoyedly
>roll for dat weakspot

>the door clicks and two wires spark up, making the door slide open

>Once Deckard sees the operating table, he is able to recognize the features of the face of the cultist leader, as it is the only thing left to be recognized out of him, his eyes held open by machinery resembling claws, shaking and crying, with one syringe insterted into his right eye, lower jaw removed, with a piece of what ressembles an overgrown giant spider fang surgically placed on the right side of his lower mouth, ever shacking, installed to his nerous system.
>His body is full of cuts, bones on his shoulders and forearms have been removed and replaced by either bionic bones or a maggot-like warp entity, legs missing, tow metal claws attached to a pole acting as feet for him, stomach open, intestines out and cut, bleeding out to death slowly as the surgery was left incomplete, his flesh has quickly rottenned out over most areas and his heart is hardly beating. There's signs of pustulous cancerous cells over most of his insides, clearly the dark apothecary didn't care to use gloves.
>There's various tools next to him, each more infected than the last one, as well as various limbs from multiple creatures accross the galaxy, possibly for replacement.
>All in all he doesn't look like he's going to survive.

"Oh...god-emperor...thank you for making me barf before"
>he comes up to the body
"Sup, looks like you need a hand...and a jaw"
>he chuckles and slaps his knee
"If you had a jaw you'd be dying...oh wait, you are dying!"
>he chuckles again
"Ahhh...man...so, want me to shoot you through the head? Blink once for yes"

>The screens turn on, revealing a picture made by the rustic console's letters.

>A raspy, slow breathing voice erupts from the intercomms

"And lo... by holding your faith on your cause and a spirit centered... on the light of the astronomican that the emperor emits, you will be open... the gates to paradise."

Imperial Truth, verse 13 chapter six.

Welcome... to my paradise, followers of the corpse God.

>slaps the back of Deckard's head
>hands over an explosive charge

"Now wouldn't your god technically be the corpse god? Or is he the God with The Corpse Fetish? I don't really know"

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>his eyes snap to Deckard and they are furious

>using the last of his energy his arm springs up

>he thrusts a scalpel he took from the operating table while they were busy fighting into deckard's gut
>the khornate rune on the back of his neck shines red

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>shots the screen
No.
Fuck off.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

"Okay, okay, jeez I'll-"
>the knife plunges into his gut
"...hey! Ow! Fuck!"
>he attempts to kick him off and plant the charge onto him

>he does not kick him off but he kicks the operating table into the wall, making the general groan and choke in pain as the tubes leading inside his body are tugged at painfuly

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>he punches the jawless face multiple times
"Learn some bloody manners and stay dead!"

>The screen is protected by bulletproof materials.

Saddenning but I had to leave my last work unfinished.

Surely you can see the glory it would have become, all that rage... all that hate...

>plants a sachel charge on the screen
Cut the fop and the speeches. Get to the point heretic.

>Malak would cross his arms over his chest plate.

About as much as you can feel the Holy light of the Emperor, traitor.

Rolled 4 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>the space marine captain grabs Bullock by the throat
Do not move.

>Deckard proves his surperiority by punching the crippled, defenseless dying man several times before he expires in a blood coughing fit

>He'd place a hand on the man's shoulder

Don't waste the explosives Lieutenant. Our orders are to kill the General. Nothing more...

>he sighs
"No culture..."
>he gets up and dusts himself off

Oh please...

Where have...

Manners gone to?

I look... forwad to meet you all in person someday... you all look... very healthy... Good bone... and muscle mass...

But today I just... wanted to congratulate the foe... for reaching this far... You've taken your prize... the general is just there... was it as you expected it?

>Behrend places his hand on Deckard's shoulder
We wanted him alive, guardsman.

You'd leave this den of pustule and corruption unexploded? Besides
>points and wretched husk of a body
He'd explode too.

"For interrogation sir?"
>he points at the desacrated, decaying, infected corpse
"Don't think he would've had much to say, sir, but...uhh, sorry?"

I will shove a melta charge up your bum you filthy traitor!

We needed something to interrogate!
>points at the general
Something in a state before this.

You would do well to wait for orders in the future.

I know you did, that's why I took...
The curtesy of removing his jaw...
No tongue no words...

The information dies with...
>He takes a wheeze before laughing
Every member you kill.

"U-uhm...yes sir!"
>he quickly retreats out of the room

Oh you smelly sulking, pus bubble.

One way or another we'd find you! And that meeting would involve a profane amount of holy promethium.

Save your empty boasts for the...
>Wheezes
Remaining chaos... forces on the sector... loyalist. Your threats... hardly can reach me in the eye...
>Wheezes
I survived the destruction of Caliban... I will survive... your promethium...

Not if i cram the nozzle in your skull heretic. You are going down in cinders.

>finds a concealed space
>takes a deep breath
>takes out the pearl
"Bloody hell and all, do the servants of Slaanesh reek that bad as well?"
>he stops
"N-not that you reek..."

Nooo.. of corse not darling.. unless you are into it..
>the pearl buzzes slightly

I can feel the generator coming closer and closer.. do me a favor my dear Deckard..

"N-not really? A favor...do I have to kill someone again?"
>he sighs
"I hope not..."

And you...
>Wheeze
are going down in bilis...
>Transmission ends.