/md/ - Murder Drones
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thread for testing the format of long greens in a plus setting before you post them in the main discussion threads
>I was only 9 years old
>I loved Shrek so much, I had all the merchandise and movies
>I pray to Shrek every night before bed, thanking him for the life I've been given
>"Shrek is love" I say; "Shrek is life"
>My dad hears me and calls me a faggot
>I know he was just jealous of my devotion for Shrek
>I called him a cunt
>He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep
>I'm crying now, and my face hurts
>I lay in bed and it's really cold
>Suddenly, a warmth is moving towards me
>It's Shrek
>I am so happy
>He whispers into my ear "This is my swamp."
>He grabs me with his powerful ogre hands and puts me down onto my hands and knees
>I'm ready
>I spread my ass-cheeks for Shrek
>He penetrates my butt-hole
>It hurts so much but I do it for Shrek
>I can feel my butt tearing as my eyes start to water
>I push against his force
>I want to please Shrek
>He roars in a mighty roar as he fills my butt with his love
>My dad walks in
>Shrek looks him straight in the eyes and says "It's all ogre now."
>Shrek leaves through my window
>Shrek is love.
>Shrek is life.
Alr let me see if this green I wrote on my phone works
P1/?
>Be you Skitarii alpha from delta theta decima. Former scion of house Aizis
>You were disowned after failing the ritual of becoming and sent off to the forgeworld as part of the bi-centurial tide
>Tradition dictates that failed knight pilots are to become officers in the Skitarii maniples
>You are a devout member of the cult mechanicus the will of the ominissiah is bestowed unto you by you superiors. The tech priests
>You were sent to relief your homeword of Aizis from a daemonic incursion.
>You are content to follow the instructions from god beamed into you head as you board one of the first Archeopters to make planetfall f
>Your familiarity with the local culture and terrain had you chosen as one of the path finders
>You are accompanied by 4 of your men, two techpriests, a kastelan and two sicarians.
> As you pierce the planet's ashen atmosphere you are overcome by a purple light, the archeopter’s sensors wail and the veteran pteraxi wired into the cockpit foams at the mouth.
> You brace for impact; order your squad to do the same then close your audio-video receptors
>
>Nothing
>You feel nothing, no feedback from your augmetics, no minor phantom pain or tugs from your implants. You feel as though you are weightless even though your gyro sensors haven’t reported changes in the gravitic at all.
>Then you feel as if you are in free fall
>You mag lock yourselves to the floor
>A sicarian and a skitarii are pinned by the weight of the kastelan that was proppled back
>The data smith calmly makes his way to the flyers command console and beckons the flyer’s machine spirit to maintain altitude.
> You gaze from the door window and your worst fears are not realized
> While the world you are on now is not Aizis you are glad you aren’t lost to the warp.
> You pass this intel to the dominus through the flyer’s local noosphere
> Data from its sensors indicate that this planet has terran standard gravity; air deadly to the unaugmented and freezing temperatures likely caused by permanent cloud cover.
>The dominus, a wayside shrine on legs with a cogitatior bank on his back and a gene-hanced claw arm thuds over to the pilot and injects him with a bio-alchemical concoction
>Just in time as you spy a small figure cloaked by cloud cover.
>The veteran pteraxii manuvers the aircraft so your line of sight is maintained.
>You signal your squad of the potential threat as you project you vid feed unto them
>You feel the craft move abruptly the figure matches your agility, archopters are used to fly inside the spires on forge worlds, so agility is one of their strengths
> The figure draws closer; you can tell its humanoid in shape; you spy what looks like two bladed hands.
>The pilot turns the craft and fires a burst of warning shots
>You can tell that thing wasn’t deterred as you feel the craft trying to reposition itself
> A burst of rounds scratches the sanctified murals on the flyers hull, while the nano-carbon control surfaces simply stretch and bounce incoming fire
>You can see the figure clearly now, Its artificial and has some semblance to the sacred human form but its appearance seems to be of Zenos origin, lacking any common features found in a standard template constructs
>The pilot opens the door on your side and you ready your squad and unleash a volley of galvanic rounds at the target
>The construct expertly out manoeuvres your shots; only one hits its mark
>It stops mid air to flinch in pain, one of its legs hungs limp and charred
> You size the opportunity and order your squad to bring it down.
>Unfortunately while you were distracted it seems another interceptor was dispatched to your presence. You can hear the front stubbers as they fire.
> Then you feel a thud and the flyer shakes
> You glimpse a glowing injector trailing across the other door window.
> A strangely human and friendly voice taunts you from the other side of the hull, your internal cogitators find some vague semblance to Praetorian low gothic but are unable to translate
> The sicarians ready themselves then the doors open and they climb up
> You and your squad stand a bit back from the doorways, and you ready yourselves to give covering fire.
> The pilot tries to shake the boarder off
> You have visual on it
>But it just hovers
> As you point your phosphor pistol at it, you spot a disappointed expression on its face
> A sicarian charges into it
> That thing was occupied in whirling melee with one of the sicarians, you augmented vision can not keep up with them
> When the creature was pushed back you correctly predict it was going to reengage.
> A spray of glowing blue toxic chemicals intercepts its flight path.
>White flames lick at its coat and joints as it emits a womanly scream. It dives down it an attempt to put out the flames. Your squad’s bullets follow its descent.
>You see that first construct from the corner of your vision, its leg white instead of charred.
> Perhaps enraged, it’s more aggressive than before
> It rams that sicarian of the flyer’s wing then it turns a crossed visor towards you.
> Your now unsheathed you power sword crackles blue.
> It reacts by charging up a directed energy weapon
> A glowing yellow, stream of particles narrowly misses your neck. But the kastelan isn’t so lucky.
>Molten metal streaks down its armour is not white with paint splatters like the typical kastelan from your forge world. Its paint job invokes an idealised matrian appearance, different shades of red are used to highlight its pannels and mechanisms.
> Apparently the datasmith recovered it during an expedition to the Librarius Omnis, the great library underneath the surface of Mars
>Uncaring, that molten globs of metal are searing his form the datasmith inserts a bio plastic wafer into the kastelan
> The machine strings to life and with vengeance arks a stream of promethium at its assailant.
> The stubbers have stopped their bailful song.
> The remaining sicarian withdraws wounded from the fight
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