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[abculatter_2]

Surely there must be cases of orcs scavenging bits of obliterator gear...

If there isn't, Snivvel (Slugga's companion) will definitely be the first!

[dragnar]

Surely there must be cases of orcs scavenging bits of obliterator gear...

Why would they bother? Ork tech doesn't actually conform to the laws of physics, so it probably wouldn't help them out as much as their own shoddily made armor.

[MagusBlack]

But can you imagine an ork infected with the obliterator virus?

[Nimitz]

...I made a turn.

Ah, the Warp. Despite having experienced multiple jumps in the past, I can never get used to it. Emperor help us all. Once we exit the warp, I'll ask everyone if they're okay.

[abculatter_2]

But can you imagine an ork infected with the obliterator virus?

OH MY GOD YES

YOU HAVE LOOSED A TERRIBLE MONSTROSITY UPON THE WORLD, REVEL IN ITS GLORY AS IT TEARS YOU TO LITTLE BITE-SIZED PIECES!!!


Also, I'm having fun with this turn. I love writing about stuff from the warp.

(BTW, CJ, you're not dead yet. You won't be dead until I say you're dead, which will involve a very clear death message similar to "YOU HAVE DIED")

Also also, more actions:

Dragnar:
Roll: 5
BIG BLUE BOOSOMS BILLOWING LIKE BILLIONS OF BURNING BUG-EYED BARNACLES
A strange, unnatural euphoria washes over you, sending you into bursts of maniacal musicals which both transcend lifetimes and take mere moments. Where your voice carries the winds of chaos changes, and upon them dance insanity-inspired hallucinations which beckon you onward, toward the bliss of madness.

By the time you at last exit warp space, you are left largely unharmed, even if your mind is a bit loopy currently (HORSEY HORSEY I LIKE HORSEY). Some of the others, however, do not seem to have been quite so fortunate.

RAM:
Roll: 4
Through your madness-induced visions you are able to locate a kitchen (which, in reality, is a Nurgle daemon summoning chamber with a rather large amount of general filth, rot, and other things characteristic of nurgle) and begin throwing random ingredients into your cauldron. (Where do you store it, you ask? Well, what if you were about to, say, almost do what once was without doubt once was?)
"!wets eht ni kcits ,otamot epir-revo enO"
You throw in a large boil hanging from the ceiling, which bursts into a rather large amount of sickly yellow liquid.
"!owt tuoba woh ,lleW ?room eht no ananab A"
You begin dancing and swaying as you grab a gnarly branch from the wall, take out your plague sword and begin chopping it into the cauldron.
"!eulb s'ti erus ekam tsuj ,lleW? elppa neerg suoiciled A"
You clumsily grab a fistful of writhing maggots from a stagnant pool of half-solid brown sludge and toss it in with a flourish.
"?esle tahw ,reve tahW ?esle tahw ,esle tahw tub ,hO"
You mix the three ingredients together while attempting to contort your face into one of concern, which inevitably fails. The cauldron begins to bubble and froth.
"!wets a ni taerg seog taht ,yelsrap ho ,yelsrap ,hO"
You pick some disgusting green bile from your nose and toss it in.

As you continue to stir and cook the vile concoction, it slowly yet surly begins to change. The aroma gradually morphs from an indescribably grotesque nose-burning sensation to that of a gourmet meal, its visage bubbling and boiling from what is most akin to vomit to something more closely resembling a well-made soup. When you finally finish your brew, the two plague marines which dragged you from the warp earlier come charging into the room. You curtsy at their arrival and make a gesture toward the now-deliciously decadent meal,  saying with a flourishing accent,
"!etitappa'noB"

[RAM]

Yay!, I really don't know how to top that, but sooner or later an imperial is going to have to ingest some of my cooking...

[abculatter_2]

Nimitz:
Roll: 2
The warp jump seems to take mere moments for you, though in those moments you experience a lifetime of pain and suffering, witness your entire world crumble around you, torn down by the winds of time as you are powerless to stop it. The experience leaves you shaken, and it takes you over a minute to realize you're back in reality. Though you know the experience was probably not real, you can't help but feel depressed and cynical about the true nature of the world suddenly slammed into your face like a sack of bricks.


And with that, I must go to bed. Tomorrow I'll try to get to turn 4.

[wolfchild]

pust a problem(minor) with your post ghazkul, there are two chapters that dont send them ino the scouts to train.

Black templars: have em in carapace armour, but thier not scouts
Space wolves: they go into the bloodclaw squads, wolf scouts are elites

[abculatter_2]

Rolan7:
Roll: 2
For eternity you fall, forever you are trapped in the horrifying (and, after awhile, really rather dull) tunnel of gaping maws and ukuleles which is your prison.

Until, that is, you fall out and land rather ingloriously right in the center of ship's main navigational chamber. After a moment, you realize you're no longer falling, then take a quick look around. Suddenly, the memories of your life catch up to you and you realize just how inglorious your position upon the room's central map monitor is. You also notice the snickers which have begun to erupt throughout the chamber. You hastily scrabble to your feet and, attempting to regain at least some small part of your dignity, jut out your chest and adopt a more authoritative posture. You make your way toward the exit without a word, cheeks burning as the room bursts into laughter as you turn toward the door and exit.

Sneevil:
Roll: 4
Well... that's rather interesting.
You watch as one of you kidneys wafts out of your abdomen and gently begins floating out into the abyssal nothingness and everythingness of Chaos beyond.
Come on, come back to daddy! I'd rather not have to go through kidney replacement surgery AGAIN!
You reach out and attempt to fondle the kidney back into your abdomen, almost managing to do so just as reality once again asserts itself around you and it falls upon your lap with a squish.
"Oh, great! Just fucking great! God damn it, why the fuck does this damn thing have to do this EVERY. SINGLE. WARP JUMP!?"

[Rolan7]

Invent a less insane method of FTL travel
Steal the Tau's FTL drive

Fantasize about killing the navigators.  Wonder when we're going to arrive (and not need them alive anymore).

[Paranatural]

Man, this is great reading so far. I especially loved the Nurgle one, and the backwards typing. I can't wait to see how my new orky head comes out.

[abculatter_2]

Paranatural:
Roll: 6
You briefly contemplate speaking, though the teeth-clenching pain of having your skull drilled into your head obliterates all non-violent thought. You wish only to tear the whimpy little snotling doing this to you- and ENJOYING it to boot- into as many little pieces as is physically possible for an ork. When at last the drilling ends, you glare at Snivel and find him idly dawdling with a few scraps of metal in a corner. You prepare to look at your shiny new headplate and maybe decide to only rip the goblin into two pieces instead, when suddenly you feel your head jerked back onto the table.
"Still too more holes ta drill!" the goblin says with obvious glee.

By the end of the operation, your head whirls with the mindless bloodlusting rage only an ork could muster. Your companion drags your limp form out of the "Hospitol" on his shoulder, polishing a piece of metal as he does so, props you up against a wall and shows you your reflection. You are now 10% more orky!
"I dink I know a few bitz which could fix dat brain 'o yors, tho it'll take awhile fer me ta make..."


(I'm not sure I really adhered to the 6 roll for that... Also, if you want you can take control of Snivel while Slugga's brainy bitz don' wurk.)

[abculatter_2]

LordInquisitor:
Roll: 3
You attempt to directly harness the collective psychic potential of all the minds now under your control, though you soon discover that barriers still exist between them- their thoughts and free will were still their own, though thoughts, emotions, and input danced both consciously and subconsciously from one to another, allowing direct communication of not only words, but concepts, experiences, emotions expressed beyond the limited forms of words. And all of it was done through your mind. Not a single thought crossed between the bounds of one mind without first crossing through yours.

With such direct communication between minds (most of them still unaware of their connection), it didn't take you long to locate and assemble a large group of magi. With your combined psychic might, the task of simple scrying even over such a large distance was trivial.

The planet is a man-made paradise carved from a barren rock, once desolate wastelands stripped of what little of worth they carried now bloomed with brilliant flowers of nearly every hue. A world of much beauty, made specifically for the enjoyment of those who could afford it. And for all its apparent magnificence, not a single significant military force came from the planet itself, a statement of just how 'safe' this planet was. Upon learning this, either you or another magi make a slight snicker. Ignorant fools.
But this world would not be so vulnerable for long. Nearly six whole companies from various near-by chapters have already arrived in the system, with one company already on-planet. On top of that, three regiments, the smallest of which consisted of just over a thousand, were about to exit warp-jump and begin deploying on-planet.

[CJ1145]

Considering I'm kind of warping, there's not really an action for me to take.

[Sneevil]

Hooray for kidney donors i guess