#Taggert Danforth

[inquisitorradcliffe]

Burn the Witch

First Place reward for @jdlegacy from the Recruitment Drive contest

Radcliffe’s revolver banged in his hand as another body dropped. He spun, arms swinging around to bring another target into his crosshairs and fire again. His revolver clicked dry. Radcliffe swore and danced back into the cover of a stone plinth. Lasrounds peppered the plinth, sending plumes of masonry dust into the air with each strike. The Lord Inquisitor opened his weapon’s cylinder with a flick of his wrist. Spent shells fell out, cascading down to jangle as they struck the tile floor. With practiced ease, Radcliffe reloaded and flicked the cylinder back into position before swinging out into a kneeling position and firing again.

“Leave some for the rest of us, Lord Inquisitor.” Radcliffe frowned as his vox bead crackled and Inquisitor Dolman’s smug voice came over the link. Dolman was a member of the Ordo Hereticus, and offensively stereotypical of its agents. He wore a tall, wide-brimmed hat at all times with a brown leather greatcoat that had the collar turned up. He carried a Condemnor patter bolt gun and enough anti-psyker trinkets to put a Culexus assassin to shame. The only redeeming quality about the man was his service record and the few choice souls that made up his retinue, all of whom seemed to find the man as irritating an insufferable as Radcliffe did.

“If you hurried and caught up, you might not be so reliant on my generosity,” Radcliffe shot back. He had no intention of saving any glory for Dolman. That wasn’t the game he played. If the Hereticus inquisitor wanted a share of the victory he would have to fight harder for it.

“Heads up, boss.” Remus’ voice came through a moment before a rocket screamed into the air. It spiraled towards Radcliffe on a tail of grey smoke. Radcliffe raised his arm to shield his face and the rocket detonated on a telekinetic barrier. Smoke and fire rolled around the Lord Inquisitor, but apart from a hot wind ruffling his coat, he was unharmed.

“Can someone get that fekker?” Radcliffe snapped. He was beginning to grow tired of this. The deeper they made it into the basilica, the more opposition they came across. Radcliffe launched himself forward, leaving the stone plinth for the safety of a marble support column. He peered out for a moment, taking stock of what lay ahead.

The corridor widened out ahead at a cross junction. Service platforms ran overhead, almost invisible against the high, domed ceiling. A number of cultists, their eyes dark and empty, had their guns trained down at the strike team, red beams of las stitching the air. Radcliffe, for the briefest moment, caught sight of the rocket launcher as the man toting it hefted it up onto his shoulder again.

“Incoming!” someone cried just before the launcher belched its payload at them. More tile and masonry flew into the air as the rocket blew a crater in the center of the corridor.

“I said can someone-”

“Patience, Lord Inquisitor,” Dolman chided. Radcliffe would strangle the man if they survived this. “We have it.”

“Damn well you better,” Radcliffe muttered. A moment later and fire boiled across the upper catwalks and Radcliffe heard the three distinctive percussive blasts as grenades went off. Cultists were thrown from their perch, falling to their deaths with unnerving silence.

“Target neutralized, Lord Inquisitor.”

“Much appreciated, Mister Danforth,” Radcliffe replied. He turned on his heel and whistled sharply. On cue, the rest of his team broke cover and sprinted the remainder of the corridor until they were all backed up against a set of ornate double doors. Thatch stepped forward, holstering his inferno pistol so he could plug into the door’s security pad. The techsorcist had the lock undone in a matter of seconds. Radcliffe pressed he vox bead in his ear. “We’re in position, Dolman.”

“Understood, Lord Inquisitor. We are-” Static burst across the link, causing Radcliffe to flinch.

“Say again, Dolman. You’re breaking up.”

More static. It hissed it waves that receded periodically to allow the sound of gunfire through. Gunfire and screaming. Radcliffe nodded to Thatch. “Open it.”

The doors squealed as gears engaged and massive hydraulic rams recessed into the floor pushed them inwards. The sound of gunfire and the horrid screaming, before only audible over the vox, now flooded out and engulfed them. Radcliffe ducked inside, mind already roving forward to assess the situation before the rest of his team followed him in.

He was met by a mental barrier of immense force. It was blunt and unwieldy, the result of a combination of untrained minds accumulated into one gestalt force of will. They were the source of the screaming and their wailing was a symptom of Dolman’s work upon their physical form.

There were hundreds of them, all chained together via metal collars around their necks. Their eyes had been removed, scorched out to leave nothing but blackened sockets. Whether this was intentional or the result of some warp power was uncertain. They were on their knees, pale, shriveled bodies trembling as they sobbed and wailed. They were wretched, and Dolman sought to end each of their wretched lives.

He killed without mercy as he marched down the line, executing each psyker in turn. They died effortlessly, their heads evaporating into red mist and grey matter. Each passing resounded i the warp as a violent shriek. “Dolman what are you doing?” Radcliffe shouted. “Stop!”

“The Emperor’s work, Lord Inquisitor!” Dolman replied. “You may join me at any time.”

“Stay your hand you ignorant man!” Radcliffe shouted. The air was growing unnaturally cold and each death only pushed the temperature down further. Radcliffe could feel a growing pressure. The veil between the warp and reality was failing. “Dolman!”

It was too late. There came the sound of shattered glass and for a moment everything froze. Tendrils of glowing haze bled into reality from a point just above Dolman’s head. They shone with impossible colors and seemed to coalesce into something greater. Then it all exploded. Dolman was tossed backwards like a rag doll, sailing through the air until he struck a stone pillar. The sickening crunch his body made indicated to Radcliffe the man would not be getting up again. The psykers, those that Dolman had not yet killed, simply ceased to exist, evaporating into a cloud of bloody mist that swirled on the sudden wind. It rose up and condensed until the blood was a shimmering, floating pool recessed high into the vaulted ceiling.

“Boss?” Orval’s voice over the vox link betrayed the slightest hint of panic.

“Kill anything that comes near me,” Radcliffe instructed. Thunder peeled overhead and lightning flashed inside the blood. Then it began to rain, warm and sticky.

“Lord Inquisitor, what do you need of me?”

“Danforth?”

“Aye, Lord.”

“My orders stand for you as well, Mister Danforth. For the Emperor.”

“For the Emperor, Lord.”

Radcliffe looked up at the blood cloud as it spit down on him. The warm fluid ran down his cheeks and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. The cloud seemed to sense his defiance, and the light sprinkle turned into an absolute deluge. Something moved within it, something large and with wings. A giant claw, the fingers gnarled and grotesque, pushed through. The blood strained at first, as if it were a membrane. Then it broke, popping like a bubble. It fell from the ceiling to swamp the floor.

And the bloodthirster fell with it.

The daemon landed with a heavy thud, tiles shattering under its hooves. The force of the impact caused a shock wave to ripple across the blood pools. Wings, leathery and scaled like a dragon’s, unfurled from its back as the bloodthirster stood to its full height. The whip in its left hand wreathed and snapped with a mind of its own. The axe in its other hand pulsed with arcane power. Radcliffe drew his force sword, already acutely aware the wraithbone’s abilities would be of little use against this foe. The bloodthirster roared, shaking the building with its primal bellow. It stared Radcliffe down with eyes that glowed like hot coals. The challenge was unmistakable.

Radcliffe’s grip on his sword tightened. “Let’s see what you’ve got then.”

The first blow nearly drove his sword from his hands. The whip only made things more difficult, snaking about to try and snare and disarm. Radcliffe counted himself blessed to have sparred with so many Mechanicus armed with dendrites. He stomped down hard on the whip, wincing internally as he registered the fleshy feel to it. A downstroke severed the whip in two.

The bloodthirster roared. “Ĭ̡ͯ ẅ̢̝́į̄ͮl͓ͪ͟l̥̠͝ c̳᷈̎l̫͂̏a̍ͬ᷅i̼̺ͫm̲̏ͅ ŷ᷇̌o͚̜͕u̺᷊͆r͐᷆͠ s᷁̆͝k̥͊ͬu̓̅᷇l̿̋͘l̶̝̥ f̶ͤ͡o̶̳̙r̼̐̏ Ḵ̙͂h̙᷉͒o᷈̆̃r᷁͏᷈n͂̿͗ȅ͊᷃.ͥͣͯ“ The thing was clearly not used to Low Gothic, and it showed in the way it spoke. It raised its axe. The other hand, now free with the loss of its whip, reached forth to grab the Lord Inquisitor. Radcliffe threw himself to the side just in time to avoid being grabbed.

Something exploded on the beast’s back, prompting the bloodthirster to shriek in pain. It stumbled backwards, turning as it looked for the new threat. “I’ll keep it distracted, my Lord.”

“Danforth?”

“Don’t take too long. I’ve only got three charges left.” Radcliffe spied the man ducking between support columns. He paused once, exposed halfway between points of cover, to release another charge. It was square, the size of a small briefcase. It spun through the air, arcing up and over with Danforth’s expert throw until detonated in the daemon’s face.

Radcliffe looked around. They were running out of time. The longer the bloodthirster was allowed to exist, the stronger its tie to reality became and the harder it would be to banish. Radcliffe reached out mentally, testing the waters as he probed the daemon’s defenses. As he expected, his mind was rebuked. Khorne’s servants always boasted a number of safeguards against psykers.

But flying chunks of masonry were a different story. Another bomb went off, drawing another frustrated scream from the daemon. Radcliffe focused on a long piece of marble, jagged and dangerously spear-like. It was longer than he was tall, and judging by the difficulty he had lifting it even with his prodigious mind, weighed in the neighborhood of several tons. The third and final bomb went off.

“My Lord,” Danforth said, urgency in his tone. “Any time now.”

Radcliffe flung his improvised missile with all his might. The bloodthirster seemed to sense what was happening and turned to face the Inquisitor, but too late. The marble spike impaled the beast through its tainted heart. Blood, black and steaming, fountained forth as if released from a great pressure. The daemon began to thrash about in its death throes. More pillars collapsed under its wild charge until it fell to its knees and toppled over, dead.

Silence fell.

“Are we done?”

Radcliffe coughed powdered marble from his lungs as he turned to look for his erstwhile assassin. He found him secreted up in the rafters. “Yes, we are done. Mister Danforth, are you okay?”

“Aye, but....”

“But, Mister Danforth?”

“But Inquisitor Dolman is...”

“Dead,” Radcliffe said. He felt that nothing of great value had been lost with the man. Dolman, and the rest of his bloody Ordo, could rot in hell for all he cared.

“Yeah.”

“His body will be collected during cleanup, as will the rest.”

Danforth nodded his understanding. “So what does that mean for me?”

“For you, Mister Danforth?”

“Only one left. Inquisitor’s dead. Teammates’re dead. I’m the only one left.”

Radcliffe paused, looking towards the man standing solemnly over his former employer’s corpse. “It means only one thing, Mister Danforth.”

“And what’s that?”

“You work for me now.”

[techpriestess]

A 40k RP List

I think this is the most names that I needed to add in a single update.

Here’s a bunch of nerds Warhammer 40k Role Players! It’s obviously not an exhaustive list, but I’m trying very hard to collect ‘em all!

Note: Not all blogs are up for serious role playing; some are only open to asks and some rambunctiousness, so mileage may vary.

As I’ve said before, let me know if you do or don’t want to be on this list, let me know!

@24hourstilldeath @3eldargirls @5thlibariancaptain @absolutiomortis @adrianthebeautiful @angelsofthelion @ashen-hyenas @askafirewarrior @askaloyalbloodangel @askaspacemarine @askacultist @askargeltal @askbelisarius-cawl @ask-da-mekboy @ask-ezekyleabaddon @askferrusmanus40k @askfuseandro @ask-horus-lupercal @ask-jaghatai-khan @askjenetiakrole @askkaldordraigo @askkonradcurze @asklemanruss40k @asklionjonson @ask-lorgar-aurelian @ask-perturabo @askrobouteguilliman40k @askrogaldorn40k @ask-saint-celestine @asksanguinius40k @askthecrimsonking @asktheravenlord @askthesmuggler @astartes-lightning-rider @assassinorum @binaryfreudian @bonebuzzards @callsign-celeste @colwolfgarde @deathkorps-505th-armored @dictator-class-captain @dont-mess-with-the-commissariat @elysiandroptroop @explorator-atilla @farseersaeralyhn @fulgrim-the-phoenician @guardsmenbrutis @h8foldpath @hades-class-captain @heartsxofxdarkness @heresygoesblam @hereteksiger @imperial-guard-captain-khan @inquisitorradcliffe @inquisitorseventus @inquisitor-tarunt @inquisitor-vora @kaismontyr @kellancallic @kindredsellswords @knightofsaurel @legio-memoriam @litilus-the-tech-priest @magsnagadaunkyllyble @mechanical-maestro-monkey @mechanicusdeus @mechanicus-hermetica @mordianofficer @nomastersonlyafreeblade @nurgleshealer @onmyhxnor @ordo-xenos-inquisitor-dakka @queenhakaan @raptorintercessor @remnants-of-xerxes @silencefromthevoid @sisterofthesacredrose @skitarii-tribune @slaaneshsvowofsilence @songs-of-the-damned @taggert-danforth @tech-priest-regis @techmarine @tempestsergeant @terranholyfamily @thebrokenmoonkabal @thebrothersgarce @thedaringroguetrader @theswarmlord40k @thomas-sellac @thousand-sons-sorcerer @thunderhoof-6th-company-rp @threetrueborn @tzeentchgodofchange @ultramarineblues-rp @valhallan-valkyrie @vostroyavites @warp-hath-no-fury @we-damned-few @zealousheretek @zetkinandanam

And of course, as always, special mention to our resident official nerd-

@a-40k-author

[litilus-the-tech-priest]

Imperial Inquisition Supply Crate has been delivered to your forgeworld bearing your specific codifiers as the recipient. Inside is a rare, Golden Age of Technology artifact. A pre-heresy jetbike core recivered from an now defunct STC discovered by Inquisiton forces in the Segmentium Obscureous. The corresponding data slate simply reads: Staff Sargent Taggert Danforth sends the finest of Mars his regards. For the glory of Mars, and the Glory of Terra

Litilus takes out the core and tosses the box and it’s contents aside. “I will enjoy taking these apart for scraps. Jetbikes are such an interesting and rare technology it would be a shame if I didn’t take it completely apart to discover it’s secrets.”

[asklotarasarrin]

Send 📱 for five texts my muse didn’t send yours, and one that they did Meme

[text] That was the stupidest thing I have ever seen someone ever do. I mean that.

[text] You’re lucky to be alive.

[text] What good are you to me if you’re dead?

[text] Fekking Loyalists so eager to die for no good reason.

[text] You pull that stunt again and I’ll kill you myself.

[text] Thanks for your help. I owe you one.

@taggert-danforth

[inquisitorradcliffe]

✂

Murder Meme

The Rampant wept. Nothing of the ship remained to identify that it had once been a proud servant of the Imperial Inquisition. The air was heavy and cold and smelled like death. Black ichor oozed from the bulkheads and dripped from the overhead. Metal plating rusted where it hadn’t been removed and scattered across the deck. Sparks jumped from torn wiring and steam hissed angrily from ruptured lines.

The progressed slowly, dressed in environmental suits and full rebreathers as they picked their way through the sludge and slime. Radcliffe frowned under his mask. The walls seemed to itch and squirm with something unnatural. Too many times he thought he’d seen something written on them out of the corner of his eye only to have the lettering vanish when he turned his gaze upon it fully. Even more unnerving was the fact that they had yet to come across any bodies, crew or otherwise. The Rampant, once home to over 100,000 souls, was now empty.

“I don’t like this,” Danforth muttered, the vox static causing him to break up intermittently. No one replied to him. Nobody liked it. Nobody wanted to talk about it.

The pushed forward, making their way slowly up to the command decks and the bridge. Again they found no traces of the dead, but the black ichor seeping from the walls was now accumulating on the deck several inches deep. It pulled and tugged at their boots like half-cured glue.

The blast doors leading out to the bridge were locked. Radcliffe keyed in his access code but the system denied him. Thatch cleared out an interface port and cautiously connected a dendrite. The ship’s 1MC speakers began to hiss static laced with faint, undiscernable words. “It would take me five hours to bypass the new system,” the techsorcist announced. “Someone has reprogrammed everything.”

Radcliffe frowned. “Taggert, knock please.”

“Aye, sir.” Danforth stepped in front of the Lord Inquisitor and pulled several breaching charges from his belt. He secured them with det-cord and sticky tack to the door’s joints. “We might wanna stand back a ways.” The team retreated down the corridor. Danforth pressed the detonator and the doors disappeared in a blossom of smoke and fire that roared down the narrow passageway, dissipating just before it reached them.

The bridge, unlike the rest of the vessel, was not unoccupied. Radcliffe’s heart jumped into his throat and he fought the urge to vomit. Rebeckah hung over the command throne, suspended from the overhead by strands of wire that made her look like a puppet. Her legs and lower torso were missing, torn off violently and discarded. Frayed wires and lubricant tubes jutted out of her mutilated wound, leaking and sparking. She was still, silent, her head bowed down into her chest.

Radcliffe approached, mind still struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. “Boss?” Draste’s voice brought Radcliffe around again. “Boss, I think she’s dead.”

Rebeckah lurched forward suddenly, head snapping up and mouth opening. “N̒ͬ͡o̞͖̒o̔̒͌o͋̒᷅o̲̒ͯỏ̢̒o̗̜̒” she howled, ichor dripping from her lips. The voice that spoke was not hers. It was deep and throaty, and laced with something that sent shivers down Radcliffe’s spine. “N͒̆͒o͒̽͒t̥͒͒ D͒̍͒e͒̿͒a͒̎͒d͒̂͒.̵͒͒ O͈͒͒n͒͒͝l̶͒͒y͒ͬ͒ m͒̒͒i̤͒͒n͒͂͒e̦͒͒.̲͒͒ M̝͒͒i͒̈́͒n͒ͫ͒e̼͒͒ m͒᷄͒i̠͒͒n᷿͒͒e͒ͪ͒ m͒᷁͒i̭͒͒n͒̐͒e̘͒͒.͒͒͞.”

“And who are you?” Radcliffe asked, trying to keep his voice level.

“I̫͛͛.̢͛͛ A̵͛͛m͛ͥ͛.͛̉͛ R̗͛͛a̦͛͛m̝͛͛p͓͛͛a̬͛͛n͛̎͛t͛ͮ͛.͛᷄͛: The thing wearing Rebeckah’s body seemed to struggle to form human words. Radcliffe glanced at Thatch.

“It....” he began. His optics whirred as he sifted through the cruiser’s noospheric data. “It is and it is not.”

“That’s enlightening.”

“Give me a moment.” Thatch began moving his hands as he manipulated the streams of invisible light. “It is a program. Not the ship’s machine spirit, but designed to override and mimic it.” He paused. “I recognize the programming.”

“Mortimer?” Thatch nodded. Radcliffe turned back to Rebeckah. “Can you do anything?”

“No. The AI is too extensively nested in the ship’s core programming. Once the host was connect it-”

“Host?”

Thatch looked from Radcliffe to Rebeckah and back. “Yes.” He continued when Radcliffe did not reply. “The Rampant is compromised. The only thing left to do for her is scuttle her. As for the Magos....”

“I’ll do it, Boss,” Draste offered.

Radcliffe heaved a sigh. “No.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I will.” Danforth offered him his combat knife and Radcliffe took it. He stepped close to Rebeckah. The thing wearing her grinned, breathing heavily. Radcliffe cupped her cheek. “Amoura... ire amoira wer.”

The strike was quick and precise, sinking between her ribs to pierce the mechanical heart that refused to stop beating. Rebeckah gasped and the thing tried to lurch away but Radcliffe kept the knife in place until it stopped struggling. Rebeckah went slack, the light in her eyes dying. Radcliffe backed away, his face impassive.

“Cut her down. Then set charges. Destroy everything.”

[inquisitorradcliffe]

Taggert Danforth

Name: Taggert Danforth Rank: Staff Sargent, Inquisitorial Storm Trooper Age: 32 Gender: M Height: 1.88 meters Weight: 84 kilograms Build: Medium Eye Colour: G *(Bio-luminescent) Hair Colour: Brown Skin Colour: Caucation Blood Type: AB Planet of origin: Andaria - Segmentum Obscurus Nearest System of Note: Caliban System Personality Profile: Standard Depertmento Munitorm Profile Mapping Analysis (SDMPMA) suggests Taggert shows high propensities for such traits as loyalty, determination, optimism, and rationality. SDMPMA suggests Taggert shows negative propensities for such traits as negativity, spontaneity, vengefulness, narcissism Peer accounts report Taggert is both a loyal subject, and a loyal team-member. While usually holding strictly to regulation, Taggert does resort to non-regulation tactics or practices if beneficial to mission success. (See attached file : Inquisition-Mechanicus incident 1587458AAwql Re: Taggert Danforth / Magos Radcliffe) Personal records show much of Taggert’s free time is spent maintaining equipment and training regimens, writing in his personal journal (subjected to Inquisition inspection 9.025 Standard Days at time of writing), and wood carving. Planet-side leave is often spent in bars, attending theater in upper hive functions, hunting native fauna (subjected to Inquisition supervision via Servo-Skull) or visiting Mechanicum Spires (approved by Inquisitorial Decree and Mechanicum Decree) Work History - PDF Youthe Corps - Starting at age 5, Taggert entered the Andarian PDFYC and served with distinction. First Recorded combat kill at age 7 while defending against an assault on his hive by the native wildlife. Completed PDFYC term ‘With Hounour’ and was awarded First Draft Privileges for his Career Assignment - Hive Kalvenden Super-Heavy Foundry - With his First Draft Privileges, he was granted a coveted job assignment in the Hive Manufactorum’s 'Super-Heavy Foundary’ where he assisted in the manufacture of Macharius 'Vanquisher’ pattern Gen. II Baneblades. *Note: Taggert was relegated to menial labour, primarily assisting with transport of construction materials and basic fabrication *Note: The Danforth clan historically worked primarily in the Super-Heavy Foundry, and such positions were often passed along hereditary lineage. - Astra Militarum - - Andarian Heavy Shock Regiment 229 - While military service is a common profession on Andaria, Taggert did not volunteer himself was instead conscripted in on of the semi-annual 'tithe harvests’ where in, he was selected for Guard duty in preparation for the next Imperial Tithe. While Conscription on many Imperial planets is a gruesome affair, Andaria prefers to allow conscripts to retroactively 'willingly’ volunteer as conscription is seen as a job-reassignment rather then forced military service. As such, Taggert was tested and found fit for service among the Andarian Heavy Shock Regiments. Following 2 years of training and mental reconditioning, he was assigned to a front-line position on-planet. Andaria is close enough to the Eye-of-Terror that it is strongly effected by the warp. While the hives are strictly regulated and observed for any chaos taint within the populace, the planet’s flora and fauna are deeply effected by the warp energies, and have mutated to highly-irregular size and developed into all manner of deadly beast. After 3 years of front-line rotation, his regiment was re-assigned off world to assist in sector operations, where in his regiment gained acclaim as reliable, loyal, and effective shock troops. After 12 years with the Tertiary Sector Patrol Fleet, his regiment suffered critical losses during a Chaos incited rebellion and after the insurgncy was defeated, the remaining members of his regiment were seconded to the sector’s Imperial Inquisition forces. Current location: Classified as per Inquisition decree Specialties: Heavy Fire Support, Combat Insertion, Air Assault and insertion, Mechanized support, Super-Heavy Support, Urban Combat, Jungle/Forrest Combat, Extended Deployment without Support or Resupply Preferred Weapons: Hot-Shot Lasgun, Combat knife, Chain sword, Kantreal Pattern Lasgun, Laspistol, Stubber (heavy, assault), Bolter (mounted heavy, mounted twin-linked, pistol) Armour: Standard Kasarkin Carapace Armour Vehicle Certifications: Chimera, Taroux (all variants)

FIRST PLACE

[inquisitorradcliffe]

New Recruits

The winners of the 400 Follower Recruitment Drive have been selected!

Third place goes to @vril-punk and Aruna!

Second place goes to @therealvagabird and Gandrus Caelen

and finally,

First place belongs to @jdlegacy and Taggert Danforth.

All winners will receive a drabble about their character. I will be in contact soon to discuss topics. On top of that, Taggert Danforth will become the newest member of Radcliffe’s retinue.

Their character entries will be published for all to see.