Sandricdoliba
  • Real Name
    David
  • Gender
    Male
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@Magnus and arl the techpriest id: Fencing and being pompous. He was a true master at both and decided being 'aware' was for the plebs.
@Allsmiles: The initiative is with him
@messiahcide: Will most certainly take you up on that! One of your space stations and hives are next in line.
@messiahcide: To be fair, the ship was mostly like that when they found it. Your maps are awesome, I have definitely used a bunch of them.
@messiahcide: You Somewhathere on DA?
@Cokebottles: Had we been playing F.A.T.A.L, Talon would likely be dead.
@Metal C0Mmander: Blutock is a very expressive fellow and tends to swing from big baby to bloodthirsty psycho at the drop of a hat. We also did have a guest comic a couple weeks ago!
What a big babby
While the Imperium is generally mistrustful of anything new or different under the best of circumstances, there are a few notable exceptions that exist within the imperium. Our friend, specialist Blutock Gorbanson, is one such exception. Called Ogryns, these abhumans (Not quite human, not quite burn-at-the-stake mutant) come from populations of humans left to rot on barren, high gravity worlds that had somehow eked out a living. After untold generations under these conditions, they became heavily muscled, bulky, stupid, and incredibly unhygenic. Upon discovering that the ogryns took to the imperial faith with a childlike vigour, believing that the emperor would watch over their every move, the Imperial Guard decided that they would make perfect soldiers. Armed with the ripper gun, a weapon built to resist being mistaken for a club, these brutes are simply pointed towards enemy lines and told to go bust some heads. This has proven an immensely effective strategy, only failing when it gets a bit too dark out for the ogryn’s liking.
@Metal C0Mmander: The scene went something like this, Talon ordered Cutter to suppress an insurgent inside a house with a frag. Inside, there was a second on overwatch that got off a shot on cutter and hit him directly in the face. He was already in a wounded state, so this was a kill. I decided to say something other than, "he ded" , so the grenade he was priming went off and sent him into a burning cart. At this point I was helpfully reminded he had been carrying some gear, including explosives. We rolled to see if they went off. Our group tends to bend the rules a bit and I don't mind if it makes things more interesting, especially if it involves putting a comrade in harms way.
@Talo: Tell your friends and come back every week for updates!
And each one of you is a special, disposable snowflake
In spite of being set 40,000 years in the future, the Warhammer 40k setting contains many traditional RPG tropes, albeit with their own unique twists. These include the mystic and aloof elves, bloodthirsty and cockney sounding Orks, Undead, Space <strike>Dwarves</strike>, Dwarves and even gundam piloting Space Asians.

Looming over of all of this like some sort of bureaucratic, space popedom is the Imperium of Man, which represents the majority of humanity. Founded some 10,000 years prior and spread over most of the milky way galaxy, the Imperium is as powerful as it is unwieldy. Comprised of over a million worlds, the Imperial guard has a nearly limitless supply of manpower to draw upon, the only limiting factors being how many men they can cram onto the ships and the travel time to the nearest war zone. The distances between the millions of worlds the Imperium encompasses have produced an extremely wide variety of cultures linked only by a vaguely recognizable interpretation of the Imperial Creed. Given the nearly impossible nature of enforcing a strict code of law, the Ecclesiarchy (Space church) has distilled being a citizen of the Imperium down to 5 basic tenets, 1, 2, 4, & 5 being some variation of the emperor is great and you should totally listen to him and his peoples and 3 being, don't talk to anyone (Burn everyone) that has any extra appendages, is green, talks funny or looks funny (With a few noteable exceptions). Unsurprisingly, humanity's intergalactic neighbours capable of thought have taken a rather dim view of this.
It's a guardsman's life
The lifespan of a guardsman recruit freshly delivered to the front line is often measured in minutes, which is not surprising, given the sorts of foes they find themselves going toe to toe with on a daily basis, not to mention the indifference of their own officers. To combat his enemies, the guardsman is given his sacred kit, which has been standard issue for over a millennium. Each regiment often makes its own adjustments depending on local conditions, requirements, and traditions, but the vast majority of are outfitted with some form of flak armour and the trusty las rifle (Read: laser pointer)(Note from Kaiser: If Tom Hinchliffe or Don Greger ever read this by some stretch of the imagination, can I please have that panel in high definition for my desktop/phone/tattoo on my ass. Love, Kaiser). Life ain't easy in the Guard.
Hallo thar
I’m David, the on and off GM of our group for the better part of 14 years. In that time, Jon, Colin, Mike and I have lost and gained exactly one player and like good hermits we were uncertain about letting in an outsider. Upon doing so we were immediately buried in awesome fan art, roleplaying, and good cheer. We are thrilled to have Sarah with us. Our group has shared hundreds of fantastic encounters and epic moments together, but our art skills never evolved beyond angry men posing aggressively and so they have always stayed stories that we only shared with each other. So naturally we were blown away when Sarah started putting our stories on paper and horrified when she told us she wanted to make a comic of it on the internet where everyone could see. However, she’s convinced us that our stories aren't half as bad or unspeakable as we made them out to be. At the very least, any excuse to get more drawings from Kaiser is a good one.

I hope you enjoy reading our story as much as we enjoy writing it.