hivefleetchicken

I will send the first three to you when I'm finished.

This is nice stuff. I like it, at least.

The calm RP at Central Command sounds cool. I volunteer.

I do, what are three words you can put together to describe Kek's romantic side?

Name: Corporal Malcolm O'Connor Age: 23. Race: Human - Imperial Guard Catachan Regiment. Fears: Manipulative Organisms, Battle-Shock, Xenos. Likes: Brotherhood, Chivalry, Glory. Dislikes: Magic, Psykers, Wizards, Sorcerers. Physical Notes: Caucasian, Average Height (For a human male), Well Built Muscular Frame. Skills: Well-trained in melee combat. Brave. Courageous. Charismatic. Intelligent. Increased Pain Tolerance. Short Backstory: Corporal O'Connor tread through the jungle with his two comrades, taking a brief break in his brisk marching to scratch his nose with his bayonet knife. He silently gestured commands for his squad members to press forward, watching as they silently stomped through the foliage ahead. 'Another day, another patrol, on this fucking shithole,' he thought to himself, checking the ground under his boots in boredom. 'How long has it been, Malc'? Twenty Years?' A scream up ahead disrupted his moment of thought, followed by another shout and gunfire. There was a second scream, and then nothing but silence. O'Connor stormed forward, raising his shotgun and firmly squeezing it. He approached the bodies of his two patrol partners, swinging around and pointing his shotgun every which way. Nothing. Nothing but his eviscerated comrades. A low, dark growl rumbled from behind the soldier. He closed his eyes with a curse from under his breath, and silently twisted off his bayonet knife from his trench gun, dropping the large shotgun to the ground with a smack in the thick, jungle mud. He turned to face a sickening beast, tentacles protruding from its sucking maw, spattered with gore and brain matter. The tentacles delicately sucked each other clean of the chunks of gore as the Lictor beast located its new victim. O'Connor. The soldier relayed his thanks and one final prayer to the Immortal God-Emperor in a nervous whisper as the creature leapt onto him, its mantis like arms snapping over O'Connor's torso. Before he was snatched and ripped apart as he thrusted his knife forward in one final act of defiance, however, a flash of dark consumed O'Connor's vision. His legs and arms went numb, and his mind gave way to a dreamy consciousness. He sat up instantly up in the new land with a terrified scream, followed by frantic gasps of air. He reached for his chest. Unscathed. He was alive. ...But where?

People hold doors open for eachother. People give up their seats on the shuttle to older crewmembers. (I always do these two.)

I cant edit posts on this device. Fuck. Welp, I have a few suggestions. There is a shame-free wig dispenser in the arrivals shuttle for any self-conscious baldies. Everyone places periods on the ends of their sentences. Head of Security also teaches a fitness class, and has an all-around positive fatherly attitude.

That is until they day came when dicklizard was waiting for her outside of the arrivals shuttle with his strong arms~

Hivefleetchicken vigorously battles for his life as the fight drags on, sweeping under the chicken and slicing at it. He finally takes a faithful leap as he cries out in ancient mayan religious moans, plunging the chainsword into the chicken's chest, striking its heart. The creature lets out a shrill cuckawww as it seizes up, tilting forwards and stumbling into the wall with a crash, directly below Farcrai's private view-booth. Hivefleetchicken instantly recognizes his chance for freedom, instantly sprinting in the beast's tracks and taking not a single instant to absorb the crowd's roaring cheers. He sprints up the creature's back, and with one, graceful, free leap, drives his sword into the side of the wall, only five feet below the edge to the observer area. The weapon drives into the wall with a grueling crunch as it slowly locks up, frozen halfway in the wall's stone embrace. Hivefleetchicken tightens his grip on the handle, barely holding onto it as it sticks into the wall. He jumps up, standing on the handle, and climbing up the last few feet between the wall and freedom. He hops onto the edge of the wall, sitting on a stone post. Immediately the frowning guard leaps at him with his halberd blade, and Hivefleetchicken quickly dodges the stabbing attack, grabbing the blade before the guard can withdraw. He yanks the spear-like weapon from the guard's grip, quickly spiralling it around and cleaving the mercenary in half. The crowd gasps in unison as the other guards watch in awe, some close enough to be spattered with their comrades' blood. They immediately begin an ensemble of attacks on Hivefleetchicken, the arena-fighter having years of training and dodging or blocking every last one of their moves. He leaps over the crowd of guards as they stab at him, landing behind those in the back and quickly slicing them apart. The last few stumble back in fear, some even toppling over the barrier and falling to their deaths in the pit below. He allows the last to flee or even kill themselves to spare the pain of Hivefleetchicken's blade, slowly turning to face Lord Farcrai. The crowd is nothing but silent spectators, unable to move or speak. "I betrayed -NO ONE-, brother. I simply ended her suffering. As I will yours."

Hivefleetchicken stares in awe at the sight, barely reacting to the fireball. He finally snaps back to reality, leaping to the left as the ball of inferno sears past him, and crashing into the ground. His chainsword rattles on the floor with a clank. He settles to his feet, picking up his weapon and flicking the on switch. The blades of the sword come to life with a grueling revving noise, prompting a gasp through the crowd as they observe his now deadly blade. He begins charging the relatively short distance between him and the chicken, praying for guidance from the Immortal God Emperor through short bursts of air as he runs, closing the distance between him and his foe. Right as he approaches, he slams down onto his knees, sweeping for the screeching chickens boney legs as he slides past swiftly. Wat hapen.

I guess I should lead this necropost off: Hivefleetchicken stares out of his den into the tan desert arena, holding his chainsword with two weak, trembling hands. He takes on swift glance at the entire arena, a completely desolate desert scene spanning around 300 square meters in width. Above the walls are rows of seats, swathed in screaming fans. Hivefleetchicken steps from the shadows of his wall-cage into the desert pit, followed by a roar from the crowd. 'Be brave,' he tells himself. Across the arena lies a gate. With a creaking motion, it slowly lifts up as the gearworks click loudly, revealing a dark cave. The Earth seemingly trembles. Something comes forth from the dark as the crowd erupts in another wave of cheering. What emerges?

Apparently my intense fucking lore knowledge killed this thread. Welp. Here we go. With the thirty-seven keys of Tzeentch, we open the way for our brothers. With the thousand whispers of Slaanesh, we call to them. With the twelve plagues of Nurgle, we fell their enemies. And with the mighty axe of Khorne, we cut open the world for them. RISE, THREAD. RRRRIIIIIIISSSSEEEEE

In the spirit of Christmas, the most blindly materialistic and consumerism-driven holiday cash grab of the year, I'm making a thread for essentially just saying anything you really want, or hope to even get for Christmas if you still have any relatives left alive. I know I don't. But yeah. What do you really feel like buying? And why? Anyhing you've been saving up for? Or what's one thing you'd like to receive this holiday? I want books. Mainly Ciaphas Cain books. I just bought a $30 omnibus about him that's upwards of 1000 pages, in hopes of finally finding his famous one-liner where he shoots his brunette housemaid and says, "Sorry, I prefer blondes." Hehueh. Okay, go. (Hopefully this thread can rival Incognito's sushi thread in terms of unpopularity.)

His fur is like an excellent fungal toadstool mushroom growing on soggy treebark. Or deliciously bleached bone.

Siiiiiiilent baaaalds~ Metateam baaaaalds~ Conspiiiiiring weldbombs, In the haaaaaalls~ Cruuuuuushing heads with tools toooooo and frooooo~ Bleeeeeeeeding you out in the holodeck snoooooow~ Looooooog in heavenly peeeeeace~ SSD after their grieeeeef~

I li9ke hballs bakls are goid for yoi

Eel is my muse.

I DID ONE OF UR CHARS MEWM

I really want to. But I won't.

lel git rekt

o7 is all I can really say to you, it always pains me to see someone officially step down from a majority of their influence on the server. I'll miss you all the same, and the opportunity for a friendship we might have had. I dunno'. Good luck out there.

Primary Analiese Kleinheinz - 22 year old blonde Dutch nurse. Has a german accent. Young and sweet, bit of a dumb blonde. Easily distracted. Nathan Ro'hi'tin - 26 Year old Tajaran Security Officer. Very passive and sweet. Immature and childish. Coincidentally a major pimp when it comes to station babes. Shayla Roberts - 27 year old Italian/Latino supply worker. An unpredictable criminal with a burning hatred for those in power. Hunted by a gang she shot two members of until she was recently caught and tortured. Now has a mechanical left eye and mechanical hands. In a witness protection program. Antisocial bitch. Pash'ea Ka'mara - 27 year old Jamaican Tajaran Welding Tool Utilizer. Laid-back and mellow, but prone to getting drunk on the job. Kind and forgiving. Vsevolod Volkov - 27 year old Tajaran cargo thug. Older brother of Nur Volkov, but not by much. Ladies man. Bit of an original gangster. Malcolm O'Connor - 19 year old station bottom-feeder. Trying to find his father who abandoned him to become a Nanotrasen Space Station Captain. Obnoxious but well-mannered when he needs to be. Secondary: Stephanie Batten - 29 year old manipulative head of personnel. Gold digger. Has a long positive history with Nanotrasen, and has only recently become corrupted into a cruel, two-faced bully with a head position on the NSS Aurora. Kind of evil. Kaelea Moberly - 25 year old Scottish warden. Thick accent that makes it hard to understand what she's saying. Alcoholic. Casual and careless, sort of a sleaze. Never has her thoughts collected. Thi'reknos Ke'ick'chev - Depressing Unathi doctor. 27 years old. Troubled past. Can be violent if not restrained. Trying to slow his life down and help people, but is only digging a bigger hole for himself on the NSS Aurora. Oriwaiquan Shai'aknatheras - 27 year old scary Skrellian Security Officer. Violently disciplinary, prone to beating the shit out of people to make sure they learn a lesson to a satisfactory degree. Barely played: Jessica Parks - 32 year old cruel Chief Medical Officer/Coroner. Very rude with lower life forms on the station, as she regards them. Evil, selfish, unfriendly. Monique Beringer - 22 year old French xenobiologist. Spoiled kid, with rich parents. Isn't allowed to make many friends in her workplace, and does a lot of her work in solidarity. Shy. Gabriel Anastasius - Near 50 year old chaplain with a long, violent past. Discovered the presence of a divine being and is now attempting to find his purpose again. A lot like a white Samuel Jackson at the end of Pulp Fiction. Sort of badass if the need arises, but very kind to younger workers. Summer Floyd - 22 year old station misfit. Ruined face and throat from an incident on another station. Has to wear a mask fused with her windpipe and vocal chords that keeps her breathing active. Very shy and self-conscious.

.......i'm in.