Adeptvs Imperialis

indie Warhammer 40,000 featuring Demetrian Titus and Marneus Calgar as well as a homebrew 2nd Legion as written by kcnhub

[adeptvsimperialis]

| RULES. | PROMPTS. | TAG NAV. |

| TITUS. | CALGAR. | EMPEROR. | AURELIUS & 2nd LEGION. | FELDORUS. | VALDOR. | VON VALANCIUS & ABELARD. | RENEGADE/FORGOTTEN ASTARTES. |

INDIE WARHAMMER 40k MULTIMUSE. stationed by Ken

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PLEASE NOTE: N/SFT CONTENT WILL BE PRESENT ON THE BLOG.

whether it be nudity and smut, violence/gore, torture and PTSD, there will be many things present here on the blog!

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suggestive tw

nsfw tw

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[adeptvsimperialis]

[ WAVE ]: sender waves down receiver to get their attention. (Small hunched lady has been trying to catch the steps - waving her arms at least to be caught in Valdor's peripheral) from @zcrayas!

「   RP MEME :   NONVERBAL PROMPTS.  mix of violent, caring, touching and non-touching prompts.  」

    SEND PROMPT '+ REVERSE' for the inverse to happen. for example 'bandage + reverse' for the receiver to bandage wounds on the sender.

Valdor, ever since the Heresy, had always found himself displaced in time and space alike. It had become natural for him to wander the Immaterium, searching endlessly for the lost shard of his Emperor, the one that many rumored was named the Star Child.

And here, it was unsurprising that the Warp spat him out in another world he didn't understand. A ravaged, war-torn place. Medieval, perhaps feudal, in nature (reminding him of the old backwater worlds of the Imperium). Most of these places seemed abandoned and destroyed-- and if not, then they were ravaged with madmen and beasts that all looked like they could never die, of which Valdor would cut them down and watch as they would either fall to their knees and succumb or they would crumble into dust.

Here was no different. Odd horse-riding creatures that rang their bells, or revenants that hoped to desperately pound him into the ground and rip him to shreds. His power armor's boots thudded through the floodwater, golden and gleaming like the Tree Sentinels of the Golden Order and yet clearly so different to them, with its faint hisses and clicks and whirs like he was an automaton. A necklace lingered in his massive hand, which he kept clenched in a fist and a bit of boiled prawn in one of his belt pouches.

Valdor had just been about to stop-- only to see a woman waving her arms at one of the stone gazebos. Brows rose, and he stopped to take a moment to take in the appearance of the young lady in the distance. Green robes of some sort, a little hunched, with blonde hair and a rather soft gaze, of which he couldn't help but tilt his head at. Moving his Apollonian Spear to his back, he began to approach.

" Greetings. " His voice rumbled a deep baritone like that of some of the demigods, yet Valdor was not like them at all-- at least, not from this place.

" ... Do you require something of me, ma'am? " His head dropped to look down at Rya. However, seeming to recognize that he may be... quite intimidating (he remembered the Sentinels he'd encountered when first finding himself in this odd realm), he dropped to a knee with a thud and the smallest splash of water, making himself smaller.

[kingsmemes]

「   RP MEME :   NONVERBAL PROMPTS.  mix of violent, caring, touching and non-touching prompts.  」     SEND PROMPT '+ REVERSE' for the inverse to happen. for example 'bandage + reverse' for the receiver to bandage wounds on the sender.

[ BANDAGE ] : sender bandages a wound on receiver.

[ GUIDE ] : sender puts a hand on he receiver's back to guide them somewhere.

[ WAVE ]: sender waves down receiver to get their attention.

[ SIGN ]: sender raises their hand to sign to receiver. what follows can be anything the sender desires.

[ LIFT ]: sender lifts receiver's chin to look at them.

[ LIGHT ]: sender lights receiver's cigarette/candle/etc.

[ FIND ] : sender finds receiver beaten and/or bloodied.

[ PIN ]: sender pins receiver against the wall during combat/sparring.

[ GET DOWN ]: sender tackles receiver out of the way of danger.

[ TAKE ]: sender takes a hit meant for receiver.

[ CAUGHT ]: sender finds receiver somewhere they aren't supposed to be.

[ TRAP ]: sender traps the receiver somewhere they don't want to be.

[ DARLING ]: sender touches receiver's cheek.

[ SNATCH ]: sender snatches receiver's wrist as they turn to go.

[ STAB ]: sender stabs receiver.

[ DRAG ]: sender drags receiver from point a to point b.

[ SIT ]: sender sits on receiver's lap.

[ EN GARDE ]: sender and receiver get into some kind of fight.

[ DRUNK ]: sender finds receiver drunk.

[ BLOOD ]: sender walks into receiver's room covered in blood.

[ FLOWER ]: sender offers a flower to receiver.

[ HOLD ]: sender reaches to hold receiver's hand.

[ BRUSH ]: sender brushes a strand of hair out of receiver's face.

[ NOTE: ] sender writes a note for receiver. the contents are whatever the sender decides.

[ EYES ]: sender notices receiver looking at them.

[ STOP ]: sender raises hand to signal the receiver to stop in place.

[ TAP ]: sender taps receiver on the shoulder to get their attention.

[ WAKE ]: sender gently wakes receiver from a nap or otherwise.

[ MORNING AFTER ]: sender and receiver wake up together for the first time after a night of passion.

[ BLANKET ]: sender drapes a blanket over receiver's shoulders.

[ HUDDLE ]: sender and receiver huddle together in an effort to stay warm.

[ TUG ]: sender pulls receiver away from them.

[ PUSH ]: sender pushes receiver away from them.

[ BULLET ]: sender shoots receiver in a non-lethal area.

[musesmyway]

@adeptvsimperialis sent:

"Here. This will bring you luck." // ayhan/pre-imperium emps with possibly a pre-hell invasion doom 1 doomie? :)c only if you'd like!!!

I MOVE THE STARS FOR NO ONE

Flynn stares at the item that's held out to him for a moment, not too sure what he'd need luck for, but still, the marine huffs gently. "For luck." He hasn't been here on Phobos long, put here because he'd put his commanding officer in the ICU, not that the prick didn't deserve it. He can tell the other members of the security team at least know his history, but that didn't matter. He's just here to serve out his punishment, even if he'd rather be Earth side with his family.

At least, that's how it'd started, it's gotten a little easier being here now he's made a couple friends. Ayhan being one of them. It's why he's here at the moment anyway, rather than the security station he'd been assigned to.

"Worryin' about me, huh?" He asks, taking the item carefully then. He's not too sure what he'd need more luck for, but the gesture is appreciated anyway.

[adeptvsimperialis]

Ayhan cracked a little smile off at the marine, unable to help but chuckle a bit to himself here. It's been a bit since Flynn's arrival, and honestly? It was nice having him around-- having to look through his records a bit, he'd certainly seen his past... court martialing... but Ayhan wasn't going to judge. He's had his own fair share of things he's done in his life, so, why couldn't he at least offer a bit of respite for the man?

" Maybe a little, " Ayhan admitted with a chuckle, patting a sunkissed hand onto Flynn's shoulder, mindful of how his gear was, " with how the UAC can be, I'm worried they'll tire you out! "

" Can't have that happen yet, now can we? "

The charm itself was something small, made out of old clay, with some sort of ancient figures and a type of cuneiform writing along the backs of them. It certainly looked dated, but it was probably some sort of symbol Ayhan kept or made himself. The scientist rested his arm on Flynn's shoulder, leaning against him.

" Just keep it in your pocket. "

[piperafterdark]

"Like losing color?" She asked.

She could no more help the note of sorrow for him in her voice than she could help the tilt of her brow. Her hands fell, resting upon the torn denim of her jeans as her eyes lingered still on his face. She was searching, always searching, for something she'd never find there.

How funny it was; two corpses and yet one remained somehow more alive than the other.

"Why would you-" she paused, teeth catching her lip as her mind caught up with her mouth and decided her original question might be rude. Time to pivot. "Did you choose to become like this? The way you are?"

The why could come later, if it came at all. No one could ask her why she became what she was, after all, for it had hardly been her choice at all. Her why was simple: violence.

[adeptvsimperialis]

" Like losing color. But it is not... exactly that. " Valdor brought a hand up and ran his calloused fingers over his mohawk strip. He could hear the sorrow in her voice. " I can still see the color. I can still perceive it. Understand it. But I can no longer feel it. "

And the Hunter's eyes gazed back at her-- where he could see so much swirling in her eyes. Confusion, concern, maybe a hint of sadness in there. In Valdor's own, there was nothing at all. A blank, dead stare, with sunken, soulless eyes and the only thing that gave them clear life being the gold that circled his iris.

How funny it was indeed. To think, the hunter that would have been prided by others as being more 'human', had lost the very thing that made hunters 'above' vampires and the rest of the supernatural and was simply like the rest of them. A spirit inhabiting a corpse. Was it even truly Valdor's own spirit anymore?

" Why did I choose to do this? "

Constantin finished her thought, his words quick and yet nothing in his inflection showed any sort of judgement. " I did choose, yes. Willingly. "

Slowly, he moved past her to glance out the alley, glancing down to look at the tufts of grass near his boots. He squatted down and rested on his heels to look at it, and a little flower-weed that tried to push past the asphalt. He reached out, nudging a few loose pebbles aside as if he could somehow help it grow.

" When I was younger-- admittedly, still very old in comparison to most, as I was a Hunter then, too-- I dealt with the Tzimisce, one of the more powerful ones. I had been making a name for myself as something like a barbarian from how I fought vampires. And I was invited to their abode to 'talk' with them. "

" I couldn't deny their hospitality, either. Because I could not fight the Tzimisce. So I had to wait it out-- and when the time came after three days and three nights I tried to fight them then. I almost died, but I could at least mercy kill the ones they'd forcibly turned on my way out. So I did that. And then I hid. I believe that was around the time I met my lord, and then I had his help to perform a ritual. It would kill me, and send my soul to the spirit realm that would allow me to find another spirit or ghost to come back with, purify me and make me immortal at the cost of everything else. "

" I did not mind this. It meant I could keep fighting. And that was fine with me, especially when it allowed me to fight the Tzimisce-- because for every time I die, I am able to return from the spirit realm. " He glanced back to her, peering over his shoulder. " ...I can only hope you did not deal with the Tzimisce, and that you do not ever deal with them. " he said, after a moment. He wouldn't tell her the far more personal details.

" Despite our differences, to meet the Tzimisce is not a fate I would wish upon anyone. "

[vicarlunares]

It was an useless ask. Seraphine cared not to hear it, nor entertain it. What was another tinged cut over her skin? It lacked the excitement the others gave —— the thrill nor the honor of earning her injuries in well-fought battle. Apathy dulls her already rigid composure, rounding her out with indifference on it. Soon her fingers shiver from its loss and chill with what it wept.

" Do as you will, " Moonblight replied incuriously.

She thought about curling her unmarred hand in a fist and striking out with tendrils of lightning at the damned Astartes before her. Whoever this was unnerved her: claiming a name and citing an experience with her incongruent with her personal account. He declared it with such certainty that incurred a fierce loathing from her.

However, she is powerless; tossed wayside on this bleak world with no chance to return. So, her arm remains out, dripping liberally into the splattered soak of her cloak and over the sterile tile over the bend of her knee.

[adeptvsimperialis]

At least she hadn't pulled away.

His cloth, after being cleaned, wiped over the wound once more and was placed away into a small bucket of water. He moved his hands away to pluck a needle from his medicae kit and stitches with it, where he carefully began to stitch the wound. Afterwards, once stitching was done, he worked to gently wrap her arm in gauze.

With that done, his supplies were being carefully put away, where silence lingered for a time.

Volko-- or, perhaps, Azariel understood that this was... different. He wasn't the man he was before when in Chaos. Not harsh, not... brash, nor rough, and some would argue not confident. He was by all accounts different to the butcher he'd been back then, and while it at least meant he was freed from the clutches of the Gods (for now), it unfortunately meant he surely would have been unrecognizable to some-- and one of them was Seraphine. " Thank you, " he chose to say, if only because he really was grateful she let him tend to her. As he worked to put his things away into his small bag, he looked off to his rustic cottage a little ways away.

" ... Do you need a place to stay? " he asked, still soft in delivery, as he glanced back to her. " I have a guest room, should you need it. "

[vicarlunares]

@adeptvsimperialis tends to Seraphine's non-life-threatening wound.

A wound superficial, bright red and gentle where it inlays along her forearm, it stung with the cut of wind sneaking in through dilapidated seals of the window. Seraphine looks upon it, unable to visualize the details beyond the topical unevenness to an otherwise smooth stretch of skin from wrist to elbow. It welled over until rivulets encircle the width of her arm and drip away over thigh in measured counts.

" This isn't necessary, " she began to pull away. Whatever meager biomancy she could conjure failing her now; her, malnourished and spent from recent endeavors. " It can heal on its own. "

[adeptvsimperialis]

" I know it's not necessary, " Volko replied, deep rumbling voice soft and a near-whisper compared to that of Astarte kith, " but it can still help to at least minimize infection. "

He didn't pull her hand back, but he at least brought out his familiar cloth to carefully wipe away the blood-- at least, as much as he could. " It's still good to at least have it tended to instead of being at risk of letting it fester. "

Admittedly, Volko was not used to-- company, anymore. In the days of living life on a backwater feudal world, it was quiet (and perhaps, a little lonely), and to be able to meet Seraphine once more after all of his changes was certainly different now. However, to be quite honest, it was a welcome change compared to the mundanity of everything else. He dabbed over her wounds once more while he sat on his knees in the grass, massive form blocking the sunlight that crept through the leaves, and kept a few of the bandages prepared and ready.

" It's bleeding enough to drip from your arm and on your lap. " He tried to explain it to her. " May I please tend to it? "

[piperafterdark]

Silence. She wasn't often silent. Blade of grass desiccated she instead brought her thumb to her lips, teeth pressing into the tender pad of skin there as her brows furrowed.

How was it to feel this way?

"Imagine that you wake up one day and it is as though you are seeing in color for the first time. As though you are seeing for the first time. Everything is so much more, so much more. Every feeling is like a cup filled to overflowing, bountiful in a way that can't be contained unless it's shared."

Oh the need to make beauty out of a horrible thing, to romanticize the very sensations that nearly drove her to madness her first night.

"Anger. Joy. Sorrow. It doesn't come in halves, it comes like a storm. It was overwhelming at first, but now it simply is."

[adeptvsimperialis]

His eyes fixated on her and the thumb pressed to her lips, seeing her try to contemplate how she could try to describe her feelings to him.

... He, however, didn't see much of the romanticizing-- if only because the hunter knew how vampires were. They awaken and it's like an endless hunger the moment a bit of blood was spilt near them, the beast wanting to claw out. Everything, overwhelming, as if being reborn like the unholy beasts they were. Constantin didn't make mention of it-- if Piper was not going to be mean to him, then Constantin would... attempt, to not be the same.

" I see. "

But did he? With the fact he could not feel at all. Perhaps it was more that he vaguely understood the feeling of it-- but in reverse. Where it was like such a storm in the beginning, all-encompassing, gripping her tight and whipping her with winds and cold and wrath and everything, Valdor's own was like waking up and being in a drought-- or more like a void.

" I am... " He paused, as he was clearly trying to pick the best words he could, " ... relieved to know it is... only is, now. Instead of being so overwhelming. I can say it was like that for me, too. In a way. Just... reversed. "

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

[lookingforwcrd]

@adeptvsimperialis

[piperafterdark]

"... Well that sucks."

Harsh but true. There was no other way for Piper to put it really save, perhaps, to put a finer point on why he made her so uneasy. Telling him that to his face, however, just felt mean. She was many things, but tonight she didn't feel like being mean.

"I don't think I'll ever get that. I feel too much. More than I used to, I think." All of those things that made her wild as kine turned up to thirteen as kindrid.

But she still wants to understand. What other choice is there save for willful ignorance?

"Is it, like, an emptiness? Or... more like zen?"

[adeptvsimperialis]

The hunter's brows rose ever-so-slightly on his stoic face. She certainly did seem to feel a lot more than someone like himself-- well, it was easy for anyone to do that, but her especially. He supposed that wasn't the worst thing ever.

" I do not know. "

Again, that deadpan delivery. Valdor took a moment to think about it. Zen. That sounded more like a sense of... acceptance, nirvana. Peacefulness. Of which, Constantin wasn't sure he still had. Though, he didn't wish to really dampen Piper's mood.

" It could be both. There are days where I seem more peaceful, more 'zen'. Other days, it is a sort of-- emptiness. However, this is not a negative thing for me. It keeps me focused. "

His eyes flicked to Piper. He knew he made her uneasy-- it wasn't something hard to see, he uneased everyone, and it was even harder when people couldn't find information about him.

" How is it, to... feel, too much? Is it overwhelming? "

[adeptvsimperialis]

@piperafterdark continued from here.

--

The Purified's head turned to the vampire, his eyes glowing uncannily in the dark of the alley they'd walked in.

Valdor disliked working with these-- people, he supposed he could call them, but his friend and lord was someone who always hoped to try to redeem the vampires, so Valdor, inevitably, had to bring himself to do the same despite his own feelings. One of them, it seemed, was Piper. Vampire woman. He chewed his tongue-- and didn't catch any joke that she might have attempted to make.

" I cannot feel. " Was Constantin's rather deadpan reply, glancing back to her as he adjusted his long coat. " I have certainly... attempted karaoke, though I do not think you would wish for me to join you for that. But I cannot feel emotion. That is what I wish to communicate with you. "

[adeptvsimperialis]

// hey all!! forgive me for being so quiet! i promise i'm alive! :) i'm just struggling with the end-of-year class stuff, but we're managing!!

// im usually more active on discord! moots can request for it if they'd like!

[adeptvsimperialis]

"Titus." The Chaplain approached the Lieutenant Captain once after the celebration was done. It was protocol for a Chaplain to formally welcome all of those who got a higher rank (he should've known, he was there when this happened to a few of his battle-brothers) but... this time was different. He knew Titus like no one would, from he was a captain once. Leandros was mainly the one to blame for all those tragic years he spent being considered a traitor, and guilt still weighted badly to this day.

Clearing his throat, the skull helmet turned to face Titus again after a moment of hesitation. "It is a great feat to become the Captain of the Second Company," again, he nearly said, "so I... I came to personally congratulate you on your biggest achievement yet. You had proven yourself to your Chapter time and time again, not faltering even when one of... your brothers... distrusted you." His head lowered a few before rising again. "I look forward to your journey as the new Captain."

Even now, he hadn't been able to fully come to terms with it all. With Graia, with what he'd done. Sometimes, he still thought about back then. Sidonus. Leandros. And everything with Nemeroth. He still felt the pain in his hands form the previous explosions of the power source long before Demerium.

Being met with the Chaplain was still something that left Titus reeling after all this time. Knowing who it was under that helm, it admittedly haunted Titus even after he'd worked to properly apologize when they'd left to join Calgar for another mission. So as Leandros approached, while Titus overlooked a dataslate and was prepared to overlook the nav-table for their next planet to reconquer in Guilliman's name, the Captain stopped and turned to the Chaplain.

The congratulations made his brow raise at first. He hadn't said anything, simply taking in what the Chaplain said-- until the last comment and the lowering of his head.

Titus replied then, in a familiar softer tone as he would've back in the day, mindful of his word choice... however, a thought came to mind, and it was a rare, scathing thought against his own brothers. You weren't the only one who doubted me. Yet, that was pushed to the side-- because at least with Leandros, he didn't blame the man for his suspicion. And now? It was practically his job to be suspicious.

" Thank you, Chaplain. It is a relief and-- quite frankly-- an honor to have such praises from you. However, I think it is best to keep in mind that it is your duty to be suspicious of those you think still have the stain of suspicion, " despite using Leandros's own words, there wasn't any malice to them. Instead, it was a further understanding. Titus wanted to be better. He didn't want to be the same man he was at Graia, succumbing to everything to the point of growing so hateful, " and knowing how I was... I think you had every right to be concerned. "

There was the smallest bit of humor from Titus's old personality budding, however, compared to how he was as Lieutenant. As, he quietly added on, " Especially with my idea of another sub-orbital drop for Demerium. I think you would be yelling if I told you about that plan. "

His voice was warm when mentioning it. Clearly, a friendly jest. It seemed like Titus was finally able to at least be lighthearted about some aspects of Graia.

" I look forward to being able to work alongside you again. It's been some time... and I've been meaning to make a request for you to join my squadron for a mission soon. "

[musesmyway]

#MUSESMYWAY

A mostly DC roleplay blog. Selective, non-mutual. All characters are canon divergent unless specified otherwise.

Featuring: Superman/Clark Kent, Absolute Batman/Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne/Flashpoint Batman, RoboCop/Alex Murphy (1987), V (Cyberpunk 2077) and more.

PORTRAYALS BY FOX, 30, they/them, 18+ only for interactions, minors and non-rp blogs do not interact!!

CARRD//PINNED POST//TEMPLATE CREDIT

[musesmyway]

He'd figured pretty quickly how things worked here, the systems in place were hard to miss. He might not understand all of it, but given all the shit he's dealt with since his first experience with the Demons of Hell back on Phobos UAC moon base, he's not really one to question strange things. He might not like the Imperium too much from what he's managed to understand, but people persist the only way they know how. Besides, there's bigger problems, and he's going to rightfully direct that fiery rage inside him where it needs to go to protect people. That's what he's good at, and all he's ever really set out to do. Protect the home he knows and the innocent who are trying to survive there, regardless of who they were.

It didn't take him too long to realise what Titus was trying to do, the Slayer doesn't see the harm for the moment, besides it doesn't help to have a couple friends in his court to help get his tether to work should he end up in Hell, he can be pulled back here. In any case, if this turned out to be a terrible idea and the Imperium turned on him the way the Makyrs did, the Slayer wasn't above showing why he's earned that name.

"Well, this kind of weapon ain't exactly standard issue back home." Wherever that was nowadays, "but you can't go wrong with a classic that works well, no matter the bigger more powerful weapons there are." He says with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He's never really used standard issue, even when he'd been a marine before he'd been relocated to the moon Phobos for punching a commanding officer in the face. That felt like it was son long ago nowadays, when he'd been just a man. Memories that he pushes down for the moment.

Brown eyes flicker down to the bolter again as it's held out for him to see. The weapon is huge, but he'd gotten a few glimpses at it already, so he's not unprepared for the weapon. Besides, the BFG is roughly the same size, though he doubts this thing has the same compensation for the recoil, not that it'd bother him any. He'd bet he can handle it without much trouble, despite not being an Astartes himself. "Almost puts my BFG 9000 to shame." He comments lightly, chuckling.

The offer to use it makes the Slayer glance up, giving the Lieutenant a slightly curious look. Near as he'd been able to tell this kind of thing wasn't the kind of thing that happened willy-nilly. And given how protective he is over his own weapons, it's a curious offer. Still, after a moment the left corner of his lip twitches upward, a slight smirk pulling across his face, the expression answers the question, even before he speaks it. "Hell yeah, I would."

[adeptvsimperialis]

Usually, Titus would've been far more protective over his own weaponry. Machine spirits were fickle, wrathful things sometimes-- here, though, his bolter's spirits had quieted, perhaps knowing that it would be in the hands of another warrior that knew what he was doing. Even then, there was always a way to befriend a warrior. Sometimes food. Sometimes fighting. And sometimes, it was indulging in weapons testing and trading weapons like boys would with sticks they found.

The Lieutenant cocked his head at the Slayer some. He listened to his words, and, admittedly, found them wise. He was right, after all! " Correct, " he replied, a bit robotically, yet whatever cold monotone sound was in his voice had begun to thaw, " I will admit, I always preferred such a philosophy. If such a weapon is not broken nor obsolete against your enemies, why fix or overtune it? "

His head tilted to the other side. " A... BFG... 9000? " He repeated it as if it were truly unknown to him. An acronym, obviously, but he'd never heard of such a weapon. Archeotech, perhaps? Maybe...

He went quiet for a time. He was waiting for the Slayer's answer with such a curious offer now, and Titus, admittedly, was fully prepared for the Marine to say no-- that is, until he saw the slight smirk form, and Titus could swear he might've even seen a glint in his eyes. Demetrian visibly fought with himself on his own expressions here, with the corners of his mouth twitching slightly-- yet he was betrayed, as the tiniest of smiles formed on his face with him.

" Then may you show me to where you've been training in these parts, if it isn't here? I shall follow. "

[adeptvsimperialis]

Guns always properly made their way into a warrior's heart. He nodded.

Fuck yeah. Big-ass guns.

[musesmyway]

This place reminded him a little of his time spent with the Sentinels, before the Night Priests betrayed him and them and Hell sealed him away in that damn stone sarcophagus. He knows it's very different, he's managed to make that much of an assumption, even without asking too much. Besides, there's plenty of demons to kill here, that's all he really cares about. The eternal battle never ends.

The Slayer's head tilts as the Space Marine removes his helmet, considering that for a moment before he moves slightly to do the same with his own helmet. It's only polite that they're face to face, yes? He's not yet used to the customs here, he's normally not one for socialising too much, given where he'd rather be - ripping and tearing his way through Hell's hordes.

"S'pose I can't blame you for being curious." He says, lifting the weapon slightly to turn it slightly in his hold, once his helmet was set down on the bench in front of him. He's almost presenting it to the man for a better look, though he doesn't dare take his hand off the grip, though standard gun safety, his finger is off the trigger, resting on one of the barrels of the super shotgun. Not the biggest gun in his arsenal, that title rightfully when to his BFG 9k, which he'd show off if asked.

"I call it the Super Shotgun." The Doom Marine answers finally, turning it over again, bringing his other hand up to open the barrels of it and take the shells out, fingers moving over the ornate design on it as he snaps it closed again. "Been one of the faithful friends of mine through my time in and out of Hell. And it's no plasma cannon." He says with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I suppose you'd call it old by the standards of your own weapons." He says, indicating to the bolter.

[adeptvsimperialis]

The Imperium was a cruel place, like Argenta in the midst of its wars with the Maykrs and loyalists. Mankind toiled endlessly against xenos and Chaos from all fronts, and the God-Emperor of Mankind seemed less like a benevolent ruler and more like a war god-- however, with lost records of Humanity's history, it was hard to tell who was in the right anymore. Maybe no one was. Tall spires of concrete (or, as it seemed to be here, rockcrete and ferrocrete respectively) held up with plasteel and metal alike breached the skies of planets, cities built atop one another like massive hives.

People went on with their lives, either as endlessly-working laborers or as the horrid servitors-- their minds stolen from them and their bodies augmented with metal for tasks-- with the nobility and the elite living higher up into the spires of the hive cities. Despite the horribleness of what Mankind seemed to have become, it was... at least somewhat calm here. For once.

Astartes were a rare sight. Powerful genetically-enhanced warriors not too unlike the Slayer himself, meant to battle the forces against Mankind, yet at what cost? Psycho-indoctrinated warriors, made to be war machines and nothing more. Yet Demetrian Titus, once Captain of the Space Marine chapter Ultramarines' Second Company, now a Lieutenant after accusations levied against him, worked to try to bridge this gap somehow, and at least speak with the Slayer as a fellow mortal.

Titus's bolter weighed in his hands, as he leaned forward to look over the Slayer's mighty Super Shotgun. Blue eyes glimmered with slight curiosity, as he nodded his head to himself. It was a classic sight-- many humans still had shotguns, and technically Astartes too, but this seemed almost like archeotech in its making with its finishes and its double-barrel. Truly, it was a beautiful sight, and Titus found himself nodding at the Marine's explanation.

" Not exactly old, but the model definitely is. However, I enjoy its look, " he admitted, " classic, and certainly beautiful in its own right. I can tell it's served you well. " Offering up his bolter to show in turn, Titus angled the massive barrel downward, his finger staying off of the trigger and the safety being flicked on, " This-- is my bolter. Crafted on Mars by the Adeptus Mechanicus, .75 caliber rocket-propelled rounds. " Giving a nod, he looked to this little area where the Slayer seemed to be testing his weaponry.

" Would you like to try it? " He found himself offering after a moment. It would be insanity for any Astarte to just offer up their weapon when it could be used against him, but Titus couldn't sense Chaos on this odd man. In fact, it was as if Chaos feared him. So, he had no qualms with offering to show this to him.