Name: Zaphiel Berauth

Chapter: Black Templars

Chapter Demeanour: The Black Templars are very spiritual chapter, and as Chaplain, Autrus is no exception. Leading his Battle-Brothers in prayers, and providing the Emperor's Blessing in battle. The Black Templars also see close combat as the true art of battle, and thus all but ignore ranged weaponry. Those who ignore or attack the Emperor and Imperium's faith, such as Xenos and Heretics, are the foremost enemies of the Black Templars.

Personal Demeanour: Zaphiel treats his job as Chaplain as his life. As one of the minority of Astartes who worships the Emperor of Mankind as a God of humanity and follows the teachings of the Imperial Creed, Zaphiel is a very spiritual and prayer-and-blessing-focused Chaplain, often using any opportunity to lead his battle-brothers in prayer and to bless weapons and armor before battle. This spiritual fervor leads Zaphiel to have a very hostile sentiment towards Xenos and Heretics, going into almost a religious frenzy when facing them, not stoping until they lie dead, and in the case of heretics, often forcing them to repent their sins before being killed. Zaphiel's focus in prayers is more on general service to the Imperium and the Emperor, stressing the role of his battle-brothers as Astartes over that as Black Templars. This unique focus has often drawn confusion from his fellow Chaplains, but the effective results it garners are certainly able to be seen.

Speciality: Chaplain

Rank: Chaplain(They're outside the standard rankings)

Power Armour History: Zaphiel's armor has a deep history, stretching back over 2000 years. First worn by a hero whose name has since been lost to time. From there, it has been passed down through the Black Templars' Chaplain chain, but has earned a much darker legacy than that of its first wearer. Each and every chaplain who has donned the armor has been forced into one of the darkest fates that can befall a Chaplain: They have been forced to execute another Astartes. This has led to a tradition of the armor being given a purity seal for each battle-brother the wearer has been forced to put to death. By the time it came in possession of Zaphiel, the suit bore 20 seals from this tradition alone. Zaphiel has yet to find himself in the same situation as the previous owners, but upon entry to the Deathwatch, he fears that day draws near.

Description: Zaphiel's face shows the signs of an experiences Astartes, with both age and scars of battle adorning it. He keeps his head completely free of hair, a monastic tradition stretching back millennia. His body is similarly kept hairless. His eyes are somewhat unnatural, a minor mutation native to his homeworld, in that the iris is almost stark white, leaving only the black rim and the pupil a different color. His large, modified body is marred in scars from sparring and battles, and bears the massive shape and frame of a Space Marine. When not on duty, he wears simplistic white robes adorned with the symbol of the Imperial Eagle, and when in combat he wears the Chaplain armor issued to him.

Skills: As a follower of the Imperial Creed, and a Chaplain, Zaphiel has vast knowledge on the history of the Imperium, and how to perform spiritual ceremonies. He is also knowledgeable on how to spot heresies, corruption, and association with Xenos, even the more subtle nuances. As a member of the Black Templars, he is a skilled close quarters combatant, though his marksmanship could use some work.

History: Zaphiel remember very little about his life before being inducted into the Black Templars. He knows that his homeworld was a Shrine World dedicated to the worship of the Emperor, and that the Templars frequently used it as a recruiting world due to this holy connection. Zaphiel was one of those blessed enough to be recruited as one of the Emperor's Chosen, and in no time at all was under the course of rigorous training. As part of the Black Templar's recruitment process, Zaphiel saw combat sooner than most Astartes-in-training, and was soon adjusted to the horrors of war in the 41st millennium.

As a neophyte in the chapter, Zaphiel showed deep interest in the rituals and faith of the Black Templars, and not long after becoming a full-fledged Marine, was he placed alongside Chaplain Argus Cassiel, to learn the ways of the Chaplain from an experienced leader. Zaphiel showed great promise in the service of Argus, and was well on his way to being inducted. Zaphiel was truly honored the time came for him to enter the Solitarium and begin his meditation. He spent slightly over one week in the cell, during which he perceived what he described as a vision of the Emperor, a holy figure clad in gilded armor, providing a blessing to Zaphiel, stating that he was destined to receive the favor of the Emperor. This blessing affirmed Zaphiel's belief that he was right to become a Chaplain, and he stood proud as he received his Crozius Arcanum, Rosarius, and the name of his fallen forbearer.

From that day, Zaphiel has served proudly and true as one of the Emperor's Faithful. Leading his company in both Righteous Prayer and Holy Crusade, Zaphiel has felt himself to be truly guided by the Emperor throughout his life. In many a battle has Zaphiel led his men courageously through the hells of war, to emerge like Angels on the other side. So when Zaphiel was asked by the Master of Sanctity to be of the Templars' offerings to the Deathwatch, Zaphiel was eager to accept.

Upon arrival to the Deathwatch fortress, Zaphiel feels as if the eyes of the Emperor himself are watching him. Zaphiel is ready to face whatever trials and tribulations await, for he knows that his faith in the Emperor and his personal skill shall see him through it.

Equipment and Armament: Zaphiel's weapon of choice in battle is his Crozius Arcanum, the symbol of office for all Chaplains of the Adeptus Astartes. A staff topped with the Imperial Eagle, it holds a power field similar to a power sword or other weapon, and is thus a potent close combat tool. He also keeps a Bolt Pistol for when ranged combat is required. Around his neck, he wears the Rosarius given to him by the Ecclesiarchy upon his ascension to the role of Chaplain.

Miscellaneous: N/A

Name: Corneo Cornelius

Chapter: Iron Champions

Chapter Demeanour: The Iron Champions, descendants of the Executioners, drive to live up to and beyond to those that came before them and to show unquestionable loyalty to the Imperium of Man in order to redeem their founding Chapter's honor in the eyes of the God Emperor. The Chapter takes a lot from from it's founding chapter, including the strict following of the tenets of Codex Astrates strictly and preferring the combat to be up close and personal, disliking long range combat and general trickery. While using land speeders and if they must, assault spikes, to scout on ahead, they will rather assault the opposing force with barbaric savagery.

Personal Demeanour: Just as any good Iron Champion, Corneo too strives to reach his limits and then break them for the Emperor. Preferring to use close ranged weaponry and melee combat, he is one of the first to charge into the combat. He felt most comfortable with a trusty jump pack on his back and a chainsword in his hand, so he can be there face to face with his enemy so that they will know exactly who has killed them. Even though he and his chapter detest using Assault Bikes, jump packs are favored by him and many others because they take you straight to the enemy and into glorious combat.

Speciality: Assault Marine

Rank: Battle Brother

Power Armour History: His armor is a traditional Mark 7 Power Armor. Corneo was once told that the armor was a bringer of bad luck, for countless of Astrates had died whilst wearing it, yet the armor always survived with minimal damage. For Corneo they remain nothing but rumors, and after countless of life threatening situations he dove into whilst donning the armor and walked back out of, he has disregarded them as such forever. The armor itself has seen a fair share of combat, coming out of it battered and bruised, but never broken, thus one could say that partwise it was in pristine condition.

Description: Corneo is a crude looking man. His head is fully shaved and his cold, blue eyes pierce through the person they glare are when his helmet is off. His face is horribly maimed, yet only rebuilt to the point where his senses work, thus he is far from a pleasing sight.

He is rarely seen without his armor. In fact he does not take it off unless it is need of repairs that would render it impossible for one to don the armor. In those occasions he's wearing whatever is nearby, and only for as long until he can get back into the armor.

Skills: His close quarters combat is ferocious, but his usage of long range weaponry and advanced military tactics are lacking, especially if the said tactics include "waiting and wearing" them down from afar.

History: Corneo has seen his fair share of combat during his days. As an Iron Champion, he has always been up there where the death is near, and that is all history he needs to know. With his Iron Champion company he has been going around for a long time, long enough for it having lost it's meaning to him and instead of he ever thinking "How long ago did my journey begun?" He wonders "How many kills ago did my journey begun?" and he cannot even remember.

As an Iron Champion, Corneo as well as everyone else were reminded how their founding chapter, the Executioners once strayed from the path of honor to rebel against the God Emperor himself were pardoned, yet their honor would never be truly reclaimed. Thus if he was taught one thing, it was that even if everyone around him would turn their backs to the Imperium of Man and the God Emperor, as an Iron Champion, for his Chapter's honor and to redeem those who came before, he must forever stay loyal even if it would mean death in the hands of those who once walked the same path. And that path he followed, day after day without a doubt, without a question.

He kept going through the ranks with a reasonable phase. He didn't really care for anything else during his years but charging into the enemy and cutting through them with a ferocious force, and he thought that he could not do it any better than he already had. He was wrong, and proven so the first time he donned a jump pack on his back, leaped into the air and slammed down, crushing his foes beneath his feet. A feeling that created a whole new rush in him, controlled, but noticeable. Soon he knew nothing better than the feeling of his body lifting up from the ground and slamming back down on some poor soul, sending others back into a stumble before his chainsword cut through them and bolt pistol finished off stragglers.

From this he was eventually noticed and sent over to the Deathwatch, an honor he accepted with no hesitation. For the Emperor.

Equipment and Armament: Chainsword and a bolt pistol. Frag&Krak Grenades. Jump pack

Miscellaneous: Corneo has a very strong distaste in removing his helmet, or see anyone else to do so no matter what reasoning they have. This distaste links straight to his maimed face, for the one time he was forced to remove his helmet in the middle of a combat for swift cleanup he was immediately shot in the face. After running through and killing the poor bastard he went back to have his face stitched together enough for his senses to work again, but he did not wish for his features to be repaired as a reminder of his foolish error. Thus if he sees someone removing their helmet with no good reason, only to do something they could have done with their helmet on, the least he does is to give them an audible snort.

Name: Draskal Corbite

Chapter: Sons of Medusa

Chapter Demeanour: Although the Sons of Medusa were ultimately Founded as a result of the Moirae Schism, it is unknown just how many of the Moirae tech-mystics' teachings they still cleave to more than five millennia later. What is certain is that many factions of the Adeptus Mechanicus still view them with suspicion and their forebears, the Iron Hands, treat them with cold civility at best. They do however worship the Omnissiah like their progenitors the Iron Hands.

In temperament, the Battle-Brothers of the Sons of Medusa display the same demeanour as their progenitors. They abhor the weakness of the flesh, and while they encase their bodies in cold steel they are blessed of a hatred of the Emperor’s foes far hotter than any furnace. Given their crusading roots during and immediately following the Nova-Terra Interregnum, it is not surprising that the Sons of Medusa display an even keener urge to prosecute the Emperor’s foes than their sires.

Those who have fought alongside the Chapter remark that they possess a frigid manner and seemingly emotionless responses, taking little pleasure in success. Failure to the Sons of Medusa is intolerable, and slights against the Chapter's honour, perceived or real, are met with deadly force, while defeats are viewed as things to be rectified and avenged.

The Sons of Medusa historically favour combats with renegade chapters and through their skills at techno-exorcism, are always able to find use for enemy equipment.

Personal Demeanour: They are, as with all of the Sons of Medusa, cold and logical in manner and will speak to other with blunt honesty. They do however, despite the seaming emotionlessness of the chapter, feel what can only be described as a love for explosions and the use of heavy weapons. The Sons of Medusa have a particular hatred for the Astral Claws/ Red Corsairs as well as the chapters that partook in their rebellion, Mantis Warriors, Lamenters, Executioners and for the salamanders for their leniency in the treatment of the three misguided chapters. He has a personal hated of the Astral Claws/ Red Corsairs who injured him and destroyed his armor.

Speciality: Devastator

Rank: Sargent

Power Armour History: Most of their power armor was “salvaged” during the Badab War, as a result from the sever damage it took during the conflict, most notably it has pieces salvaged from a marine from the now chaos worshiping Astral Claws/Red Corsairs, specifically the right arm. Those parts that come are not salvage are from the Son’s own forges.

Description: as a result of being a long time member of the Sons of Medusa he has undergone significant cybernetic augmentation, his right arm, both his legs, the right side of his chest and most of his internal organs are now mechanical in nature. His skull is contains a patchwork of electronic components enhancing his mind, his eyes and ears have been replaced with machinery (the eyes are made so he can look at explosions without being blinded) and his scalp from his eyes to his neck are completely metal, littered with access ports and extruding machinery, leaving only his nose mouth and as jaw flesh. Would only remove their armor if it needed repairs or they needed to wash, does not have of duty cloths, does not understand why others do.

Skills: They have experience with explosives and heavy ordnance an uncanny ability to destroy just the right thing to produce maximum effect. As a result of maintaining his own mechanical augments and the chapters tendency to salvage enemy equipment, he has knowledge of machines, though is nowhere as much as an actual Tech Priest. He has enhanced vision and hearing due to his augments, bionic eyes can increase a subject's visual spectrum, allowing the ability to see heat, energies, etc., as well as incorporating targeters and resistance to the effects of blinding flashes, while the ears can hear pitches beyond human hearing, prevent deathaning and pick up much quieter sounds. Leadership experience of a devastator squad. 0 social skills. Whether replacing the already sophisticated space marine organs and limbs with machinery provides a noticeable improvement is debatable. Speaks binary and has computerised memory and processing, not necessarily smarter but is capable of handling more data at faster speeds.

History: After the so much time Draskal retains few of the memories of his youth, he imagines they the were lost during one of the several procedures to improve his brain or simply due to their irrelevance, yet one thing he does remember is standing with his mother on a rooftop one night and seeing fireworks for the first time. Form there he somehow ended up in an underhive gang as a manufacturer and user of explosives because he remembers his greatest work, utterly leveling a rival gang's wearhouse in one massive beautiful blast. One that evidently caught the attention of some recruiter for the Sons of Medusa as soon after his gang was rounded up and put through their particularly exacting recruitment and indoctrination process. He sometimes wondered how many of that gang where his battle brothers and how many where now the servitors that maintained the base. Evan more rarely he wonders what became of his mother.

He exhibited a notable proficiency for explosive demolition as a scout but found his true calling with heavy weapons first as a devastator and then as a member of a tactical squad. Notable examples include destroying a heretical tank column by bringing a building down on top of them and severing the arm of a wraithlord with a well pleased Lascannon shot, resulting in the sword blade crashing down on a Wave Serpent which promptly exploded.

By the time the Sons of Medusa partook in the Badab War Draskal had been promoted to sergeant and was in-charge of training the ex-scouts in the use of heavy ordnance. While having direct command over more destructive power mean more elaborate destruction, having to deal with marines inexperienced with the tools the had been given and having the well trained ones moved out of his squad was frustrating. While this is obviously for the good of the chapter replacing strength with weakness jars with one of the fundamental beliefs of the Sons of Medusa and left him with conflicted thoughts about this possession.

During the Badab war he and his squad took part in the battle against the rebelling space marine chapters and was part of their last action in the conflict the boarding of the orbital fortress of Sentinel-Sigma alongside the Exorcists chapter. It was during this action that one of his squad’s plasma cannons was hit by a missile the combined explosion, killing the marine and injuring Draskal. His many parts of his armor where irreparably damaged and needed to be replaced and while the actual damage to his body was definitely repairable he ended up having most of the damaged area replaced with cybernetics anyway, as is the way of the sons. In the fight the injuries did not stop him, while he was immobilized he continued to direct his squad, using his augments to see through one of their mechanical eyes and was moved by them from firing position to firing position, his knowledge and dedication ensuring they remained useful during the offensive.

Joining the Deathwatch is an opportunity to get back to his roots, to hopefully get to use heavy weapons himself again.

Equipment and Armament: Melta bombs, frag grenades, krak grenades, an auspex, a Vengeance Launcher and a Valthek-II Pattern plasma pistol.

Name: Kurtis (von) Inri

Age: 101

Chapter: The Ultramarines

Chapter Demeanour: Organisation, and focus upon the "greater" picture of all events are values placed above all but devotion to the Emperor. They are quite haughty however rightfully so for by means of the Codex Astartes their Chapter has at least limited dominion over all the others.

Personal Demeanour: While in truth cold and dutiful he always keeps about a bright smile, verbose speech and makes a show of himself and the Chapter. He will always place the ambitions and wants of himself and the Chapter above the needs and wants of others unless it will somehow damage the Imperium as a whole. While he will often be daring in his actions he will always makes sure that if someone has to die it be another Marine - Kurt wants to sit on Calgar's throne some day. He is not willing to "let things go" until all is to his perfect satisfaction.

Speciality: Scout

Rank: Scout Sergeant

Power Armour History: He's a scout, never got any and only received the suit of carapace all scouts do. It has seen only what he has.

Description: 7'2 to the nanometre, he carries himself with an aristocratic gait and looks more like a depiction of one of the many nobles of the realms of Ultramar than one of it's Warriors. His hair is a golden blond, chin, cheeks and nose all strong yet not imposing as though sculpted. The only thing to make one believe he's not from a fairy tale are his brown eyes, something which he recognises when dealing with normal humans and which he tries to at least somehow hide. His carapace armour is like that of the rest of the Deathwatch Scouts only differing with whatever impromptu camouflage is added.

Skills: A sharper shot without targeting assistance than many marines with, can perform acrobatics even when greatly encumbered, armed and unarmed CQC.

History: Kurt was born on one of the many worlds of Ultramar to the noble von Inri family. He grew up shaded by his brother who always was subservient and praiseworthy of their father. There were many minor affairs of state and such and no matter the choice it seemed that praise was the way to go if one wanted to obtain the inheritance. The lad couldn't stand it and ran away several times, going so far as wrestling one of the Guards for a uniform - which he fit in quite well thanks to being tall even at an early age. He was almost fourteen when the ship bearing the wondrous omega, grail and aquila arrived, and the arrivals did not disappoint. The Ultramarines paraded gloriously whilst keeping an eye out for potential recruits - only as a punishment for recent rebelliousness he was that day forced to stay inside. Naturally, out of civic desires the boy broke out and ran to see the glorious men of Macragge. His father noticed him and ran towards him fearing he would do mischief only for the lad to give him a good kick in the right shin and then strike the man down. Surprised, the Captain present approached them to ask what happened - he simply couldn't believe that some show of uncivility would be present at the parade. When he got the story from both the boy and his father the decision was made; Kurt was taken in to (hopefully) become a Scout.

While he had hoped it would just be an advanced school with slightly more focus on learning all things martial, Kurt was surprised to have a very arduous path ahead. At each point of receiving the gene-seed he had the symptoms of rejection. Although he was able to survive and was stronger with each part added, his combat abilities were greatly hampered by this. Due to this he adapted to take on a more specialist role with a sniper rifle or some other longer ranged weapon where he could more or less mask his pains which would be debilitating in close quarters combat. However on one occasion when fighting Eldar he was forced into it; screaming banshees came from seemingly nowhere and quickly sliced up most of his squad. Kurt in desperation pulled upon his mono-knife and with a duck went to stab the xeno; the powered blade sliced right through his but the blade had gone right into the throat of the Eldar from the force it had upon it. Seeing an opportunity he turned and placed the blade into the Eldar about to assail his Sergeant. At this point the Sergeant himself turned and let out all of his bolts in his pistol into the remaining hostiles. Surprised at their luck the two ran to evacuation. When they were in safety the events were recalled as a great heroism rather than a stroke of luck; something the Scout was more than happy to accept. It was at this point that a decision was reached; he was to receive his black carapace. Kurt was scared, fearing full rejection rather than just some problems in acceptance of the organ but he took it seeing it as his duty to the Emperor. He was quite sickly on the first day after receiving it but soon stood strong like the full Marine he now was. However he quickly told them that he did not want the Power armour that the other Scouts were to receive; he wanted to continue on as a Scout Sergeant to train the other initiates. Besides, whereas before he could barely enjoy the benefits of his implants now he was fully functioning and now he wanted to be the Scout he failed to be prior.

He fit in quite well with his new position; rather than taking the fancy power weapons and pistols that the other Scout Sergeants had he carried the gear of the other Scouts; the same boltguns shotguns and sniper rifles. After all, while he performed the necessary function of a leader for him this was a "redo" of his Scout years. He saw this as preparation for the day in the future when he would become Captain, and eventually Chapter Master. He served dutifully and well until he saw another opportunity for improving his reputation. One of the Battle Brothers who was serving in the Death Watch returned and another one was to be sent. He instantly volunteered himself and is now en-rout to join the Epsilon Warriors.

Equipment: phobos pattern bolt pistol, gladius, mono-knife, carapace armour, both cameleoline and traditional camouflage. He will alternate between a shotgun, sniper rifle, stalker pattern boltgun or some other weapon, and will carry as many explosives and such as he can to improve his chances.

Name: Sirren Gadex

Chapter: Flesh Tearers

Chapter Demeanour: Among the most savage of the Sons of Sanguinius, the Flesh Tearers are infamous across the Imperium for the sheer brutality and destruction they bring to every battle. Known to completely lose themselves in the heat of battle, they have often brought ruin to friend and foe alike. Worse yet is the rate at which their Battle Brothers fall to the curse of the Black Rage, which has crippled their chapter and will likely bring its ruin before long.

Personal Demeanour: Despite his chapter's reputation, Sirren strikes most as a particularly cold and dispassionate individual. After attending to many dozens of his brothers that have fallen in battle or to the Flaw, he has grown callous and melancholic. While he attends his duties as earnestly as he ever has, they are performed with detached professionalism and grim routine. Seemingly the only effort he puts his heart and soul into is the destruction of the Emperor's enemies, upon which he unleashes all of the fury his chapter is known for.

Speciality: Apothecary

Rank: Sanguinary Priest

Power Armour History: Inherited from his mentor in the Flesh Tearers' sanguinary priesthood, Sirren's armor is adorned with Cretecian sigils and fetishes, as well as the ancient iconography of the sanguinary priesthood, which date back to the Age of Heresy. More artistically adorned than most armors among the spartan Flesh Tearers, the armor's machine spirit still carries their chapter's legacy of rage and tragedy, as many of its previous wearers have fallen to the Black Rage (Sirren's mentor included). With Sirren's induction into the Deathwatch, this is the first time that his armor has been painted black, and not been worn by a lost brother of the Death Company.

Description: A grim figure, even by the standards of most Astartes, Sirren wears the scars of many battles on his body and in his posture. Nearly the entire right side of his face is comprised of scar tissue, pulling his face into a permanent snarl, and almost all of his black hair has been burned away, including his beard and eyebrows. He bears very little resemblance to his angelic primarch, given his brutish features and forest-green eyes. A pair of skull-emblazoned service studs are embedded on his left brow, showing his centuries of service to the Emperor.

Despite the multitude of scars crossing his body like spiderwebs, Sirren is in good condition physically. Nominally larger and bulkier in size than the average Astartes, he has had no major bionics added to his body, and he is as spry as any initiate, regardless of his veteran status. Outside of his armor, Sirren wears only simple garments, typically red and white, and small effects of the sanguinary priesthood. Given his status as a medic, he abstains from wearing more gruesome trophies and fetishes off of the battlefield.

Skills: As with most Sons of Sanguinius, Sirren is an expert in rapid assault and close-quarters battle. His ferocity is in his blood as a Space Marine and as a native of Cretacia. Given his early life of savagery, he is adept in tracking and hunting great beasts that could slay even an armored Astartes, and is well adept to prolonged survival in remote conditions. As a member of the sanguinary priesthood, Sirren is an expert in the rituals of initiation and purification common to Blood Angels successors, and is well-practiced in the medical care and physiology of his fellow Astartes, particularly the peculiarities of his chapter's gene-seed.

History: As with all Flesh Tearers of this millennium, Sirren was born a native of the death world Cretacia; one of the many savage tribes that regressed to a paleolithic state during the Dark Age of Technology, barely even capable of language. Their daily existence comprised of surviving day-to-day against the violent seismic activity and monstrous creatures endemic of their world. Despite their stunted intellect and lack of technology, the Cretacians had adapted to become physically powerful, with razor-sharp reflexes, thus making them exceptional candidates to become Astartes. Sirren was one such young man chosen from his tribe, and tasked by the metal angels of red and black to slay a mighty predator as his initiation. His hunt lasted an entire lunar cycle, and most thought him dead, until he managed to return carrying the jawbone of one of these terrible beasts, soaked head to toe in its blood.

Inducted as an initiate into the Flesh Tearers, Sirren took as well to his indoctrination and biological enhancement as could be hoped. The only hiccup in his training came from his demeanor; he was competitive to a fault, and was remarkably quick to anger. Fistfights between himself and his fellow scouts were common, and resulted in frequent disciplinary action. By the time he had graduated to become an Assault Marine, his back had already turned to leather from his many floggings. The chapter's leadership, hoping to cool the temper of an otherwise promising marine, inducted him earlier than most into the sanguinary priesthood, putting him into his company's command squad as a Sanguinary Novitae.

Sirren learned humility fast, as he was forced to care for his wounded brothers and to collect the gene-seed of the fallen. He saw the error of his rambunctious past, now realizing that they had enough enemies in the galaxy without him disrupting the chapter from within. However, his premature induction had its drawbacks; as he was still a relatively young and inexperienced marine, he had not yet become totally accustomed to the horrors of war and what lurked in the reaches of the galaxy. Grappling with these tormenting forces, as confronting every single death and lost brother in his company, was a great strain on his mind, and having been pulled out of his assault squad early, he had insufficient outlet to work off his aggression and frustration. Over the decades, these traumas darkened Sirren's mind, making him unnaturally cold and unfeeling to cope with these stressors. This culminated some time after his full induction into the sanguinary priesthood as his mentor fell to the Black Rage in the midst of battle, and Sirren delivered the Emperor's Peace to him as he lost all reason.

Equipment and Armament: As a Sanguinary Priest, Serrin carries a specialized narthecium, augmented with a Acus Placidus reductor pistol, and an oversized Exsanguinator reductor blade. As he is currently not serving with any other Sons of Sanguinius, he chooses not to carry a sacred Blood Chalice, but does have one in his possession. As his typical armaments, Serrin carries a Deathwatch-issue bolt pistol, a standard assortment of grenades, and both his personal chainsword and combat blade.

Name: Unknown, designated "Sorrow".

Chapter: Unknown.

Chapter Demeanour: Unknown.

Personal Demeanour: The Astartes now known only as Sorrow is quite clearly haunted by his past and now seeks to redeem himself through serving the Deathwatch as a Black Shield. He has stripped his ancient power armor of all marks of his Chapter and leads an existence free from all of the pleasures in life. Outside of combat, Sorrow subjects himself to long hours of prayer, meditation and a grueling training regime that would make even most other Astartes balk at the prospect. He does not shy away from contact or conversation with the brothers of his Kill-team, but Sorrow absolutely refuses to speak about his origins, Chapter or true name. Other than that, he is polite and soft-spoken and very rarely speaks ill of a fellow Astartes. He is prone to moods of somberness and melancholy and declines any praise or compliments that might be directed his way, insisting that he is merely a tool for the Emperor's will and nothing more.

In combat, Sorrow fights with total disregard for his own life, gladly sprinting into the line of fire to save a fallen brother or standing face-to-face with a heinous xenos monstrosity. An honorable death would be the easiest way to find absolution but Sorrow does recognize that it would have to be a good death, not a pointless one, so he is not entirely suicidal. One thing is certain; Sorrow will never wear the livery of his Chapter once more.

Speciality: Tactical.

Rank: Battle-Brother (Black Shield).

Power Armour History: It is an entirely unremarkable suit of Mark VII power armor, the most common variant in use by the Astartes at the start of the 42nd millenium. Its fresh coat of black paint cannot obscure the fact that is dented, pitted and otherwise marred in many places but Sorrow refuses any repairs or replacement parts. It functions reasonably well, though the mechanism of the joint of his left elbow has a habit of jamming in the midst of combat. Sorrow has not divulged any of the armor's history, if he even knows it, but the fact that is Mark VII means that it is unlikely to be very old.

Description: Beneath the plates of his power armor, Sorrow is a gruesome sight to behold. Most of the flesh of his face has been seared away, the remnants fused together beneath a shiny layer of fresh skin. Especially the left side of his lower jaw was severely disfigured to the point where the white bone is visible, and his (fortunately unharmed) eyes are surrounded by thick scar tissue. Sorrow refuses skin-grafts or reconstructive surgery as a matter of principle and considers the hideousness of his visage to be a poignant reminder of the sins he has come to repent for. His physique is neither short or tall for an Astartes and Sorrow is just as muscular as can be expected from the average Battle-Brother.

As for his armor, the whole suit of Mark VII is deep black (save for the silver left pauldron), as is Deathwatch custom, but highly irregular is that this extends even to his right pauldron. That is normally reserved for the sacred heraldry of the Marine's Chapter, but Sorrow has struck that sigil from the pauldron and painted it entirely black. This Black Shield immediately sets him apart from the other members of his Kill-team at first glance.

Skills: As a Tactical Marine, Sorrow possesses a flexible skillset. He hasn't specialized in any particular combat doctrine and is equally capable up close or at range, but he is outclassed in both styles by specialist Devastator Marines with heavy weapons or Assault Marines with chainswords. That said, Sorrow is a crack shot with the standard Astartes Mark Vb Godwyn Pattern bolter and Mark II Ragefire Pattern plasma rifle and is at his most dangerous from medium distance. He also knows how to drive and operate various Astartes land vehicles like Rhinos, Assault Bikes and Land Raiders.

History: All that is known of Sorrow's history is the story he submitted to the Master of the Vigil when he arrived at the Deathwatch fortress. He came to them alone, the sole occupant of a limping freighter vessel, his damaged power armor sandblasted clean of any paint, revealing the gunmetal gray of the adamantium beneath. No Chapter sigil was present on his pauldrons, nor any markings of rank or specialization. All that he carried was a battered bolter and a single frak grenade.

When asked for his name, the Astartes declined to provide one, and instead insisted he was no one. When asked for a Chapter, the Astartes once again refused to answer, claiming he belonged to no Chapter. Not anymore. When asked for his story, the Marine sat down and removed his helmet, revealing the horrifyingly scarred and twisted face beneath. He took a deep breath, and spoke.

Once, not too long ago, the Astartes had belonged to a Chapter. It was a proud one, charged with an important task, and demanded the respect and reverence of the population of the Imperium they protected. One amongst their numbers fell prey to hubris, however, and resisted the will of the Imperium. When asked why, the Astartes refused to answer and remained as vague as possible. He said that they were all blinded by the lies and their own arrogance. To his disgust, the Astartes saw brother after brother turn away from the Emperor's light. The Astartes sitting before the Master of the Vigil said that he resisted, trying to undo the damage, but they would not listen. Eventually he and his brothers came to blows -- a terrible battle in which he nearly perished, the Astartes said, pointing to the wreckage of his face. He escaped aboard a space ship and became adrift for years, which is when he entered a Sus-an Membrane-induced stasis. Explorators woke him when the ship was found. The Astartes refused to clarify how long he had been in stasis, or indeed to provide any kind of timeframe for his story.

The Astartes paused for a long time, the air of the dark chamber heavy with tension. The Astartes continued, saying he eventually learned that justice had been metered out to his Chapter, though he declined to go into details. He said that, with nowhere left to go, he would strip himself of his rank, name and Chapter and submit himself to the Emperor's service in the only way that was now left to him; the Deathwatch. Perhaps, he said, voice full of melancholy, he could find some atonement for the sins of his erstwhile brothers here.

The Master of the Vigil nodded once, curtly, gave the Astartes a new designation out of respect for the warrior's tale, and promised him it would not be repeated to any other members of the Deathwatch. Now his Long Vigil begins as the anonymous Sorrow.

Equipment and Armament: An old and heavily-used Mark Vb Godwyn Pattern bolter, frak & krak grenades, and combat knife.

Miscellaneous: The secrets that Sorrow keeps have been submitted to our GM as part of this CS.

Name: Victar Ironmarch

Chapter: Harbingers

Chapter Demeanour: The Harbingers chapter is defined by its fearless, to the point of reckless, use of the Jump pack. They take great pleasure in raining pain upon the heretical and unclean alike with precision. Their uncanny forward attack often comes from land and sky in a unified assault. The true defining trait is the Harbingers are always seen with sword or shield (sometimes both) in use. A Harbinger believes any kill made while looking your opponent in the eyes will bring the greatest honor to the Emperor.

Personal Demeanour: Victar is a ruthless fighter and loathes the use of his bolter sidearm with a passion. Though he will use it when needed to create an opening, down an enemy too far away from his blade, or suppress enemy fire to allow his brothers escape or entrance to a fight, he will always try to find a way to bloody his hands.
To his enemies they will see not but the cold unfeeling face of his helmet and the howl of wind as the blade falls, but to his battle Brothers of any chapter he is a man of respect and honor. Never one to fight dirty. Never to strike until the foe knows what brought them death. This is a man who lives and breathes to stand in the light of honorable combat and rise from the ashes of annihilation time and time again.

Though some have speculated that he holds a personal, and deeply rooted, hatred of Orks. Their presence is an offense to his very core. To suffer them in his sight would be to spit upon the golden throne.

Speciality: Assault Marine

Rank: Captain

Power Armour History: Hundreds of worlds have born witness to the battle scarred suit of certain doom that coats Victar upon his conquests. Orkish hordes have crumbled to the fury of his chapter, thousands of Ork monstrosities have been returned to scrap by their blades. Every scar upon his armor is known to him like a lost companion. Every enemy he has cleaved is remembered in the flesh beneath it.

Description: Victar wears a standard issue power-suit with deep azure trimming, the Harbingers symbol is proudly flagged on his arm left arm pauldron while the assault marine symbol emblazoned in gold is on the opposite. On his chest is a white Aquila. Like his fellow battle brothers, the core of his suit is painted in the same dark blue but his own color is stained with crimson. His arms and legs are painted into a golden yellow but suffer the same discoloration from the dried blood massaged onto the unforgiving steel surrounding him. It is a clear visual distinction meant to quickly identify him to others.
Friend or Foe.

Skills: Victar possesses a prominent awareness of his surroundings with a reaction time to match, making him ultimately one of the most lethal space marines in his chapter when armed with Shield and Sword.

History: Victar is a veteran of a thousand campaigns. The Harbingers are not one of the bigger chapters belonging to the Empireum of Man, but they have earned their praise all the same. The most prominent memory belonged to him comes from his home world of Arlockus, a relatively out of the way planet belonging to the empire.

An Ork horde had descended upon them like locusts and a distress call had been put out to nearby chapters asking for assistance against the violent Raiders. High in the sky of this fight were the Chapter brothers of Harbingers. Skilled in the art of ship boarding, with prominent displays using jump packs, the brave Marines swarmed as many flagships belonging to any potential Orkish Warlord.
Their assault was a whirlwind. Ship debris still lingers from the destroyed ships left to rot in the sky, but the assault teams were unable to find the Warlord before touchdown on the planet.
The Harbingers fought on land with ferocity and Valor at every turn but the horde was too numerous. Their fortifications were weak but well manned. After days of conflict between the ever growing horde, the green skins seemingly multiplying every day by the hundreds, and the Harbingers unable to recuperate from any loss they received, it became a disaster.

Jump pack and sword at the ready, it was Victar Ironmarch and a squad of over 100 skilled Raiders still alive, who led a daring and u sanctioned ambush as the Horde finally took to the field more aggressively in an attempt to overpower what remained of their enemies and claim the planet for their own.
At the same time the Chapter Masters fought for the survival of their planet, Victar and his crew had entered the fortress.

If the Orks had been locusts, these 100 proud sons of the Emperor were falcons. Satchel charges had been placed all about the structure as they bloodied it's halls in a wave of unending steel. Their jump packs discarded in favor of mobility, the Harbingers made their way to the War boss. The green skinned bastard was waiting.
Explosives rocked the room as Victar and his brothers entered from every access point they could find. In a single fiery explosion they were scattered about the inner compound like rag dolls. In the chaos that followed, nearly all of his brothers were executed where they lay before any could recover from the Explosives.
Victar had emerged from this with a will of iron as the first of his brothers died to the cowardly ambush. Sword and pistol in hand he cut a path through the swarm of bodies to each and every marine until a handful of them remained to face off against the war boss that had nearly taken everything from them.
Victars blade cleaved through its filthy green face as his own became a mask of hatred, denying even the idea of failure, as he out fought the Warboss. The creatures body had not even reached the floor when Victar detonated his own Explosives. Together with the Harbingers still surviving, they saluted the Emperor and sang his praise as they destroyed the symbol of Ork superiority.
Victar and two other space marines had been rescued from the aftermath, but Victar had died inside that day. Though his actions had been praised as wise and courageous, he had never forgiven himself for the deaths of his brothers.

The Chapter had nearly been destroyed in the fighting, hundreds littered the fields. In time they would recover, but it would take a long time to regain the superiority they once boasted. Though Harbingers is a small Chapter compared to its past, they more than make up for it with their tenacity and technique in battle.
Victar promised he would not allow the Orks to have their way with a planet again, so long as he drew breathe and held steel. The same went for any race that threatened the few brothers he had left. Victar would cleave an entire army down single handedly before he allowed such a thing.

Equipment and Armament: Equipped simply and stoutly, Victar carries with him a Storm Shield and power sword. Both fairly earned and wisely mastered. On his hip is a standar issue Bolt Pistol. It has seen equally heavy use.

Name: Aldaric Felbane

Chapter: Angels of Absolution

Chapter Demeanour: The Angels of Absolution are basically Dark Angels that do not believe that the elimination of all Fallen is necessary to receive the Emperor's forgiveness. They believe they have already been absolved through their subsequent service or are no longer associated with those that betrayed their primarch, Lion El'Johnson, long ago. Hence, they do not consider themselves "Unforgiven," and may not necessarily leave a mission to go after the Fallen if the opportunity arises. Punishing all traitors is of course, still a priority, but these guys have put their personal fears of shame aside for the good of the Imperium.

Often, The Angels of Absolution have worked alongside the Dark Angels, Deathwing and Ravenwing, although there may occasionally have been some friction due to their opposing ideologies. They only partially follow the Codex Astartes. Some may believe the Emperor will judge their souls in the afterlife and therefore see him as divine, while others leave such speculation to those who need it. Honor and atonement are heavy personal themes for these Astartes, and redemption and forgiveness are seen as possible to attain.

Angels of Absolution wiki

Personal Demeanour: Aldaric is very pragmatic. Like most space marines, he is focused on war, which demands a high degree of self control. He is loyal, obedient, courageous, and everything else you would expect for a honed warrior in the Emperor's legions, but he is also an individual. He is less likely to get involved in petty arguments over spirituality or government and more likely to be forgiving of the details as long as there is no disloyalty. He firmly believes that it is important to focus on the present, that honor is a continual act at each moment, despite the mistakes of the past. In battle, he is of the mind that the Emperor wants you alive and fighting, not sacrificed upon the alter of vain glory. He tends to pull others together with comradery and leadership. He would likely be the one to stop his own advance in order to help keep a brother alive and firing.

As far as xenos go, Aldaric bears true hatred against only one, the Tyranids. Other than that, he simply believes in human superiority and right to dominate. Killing xenos is no problem, but killing human traitors is a sad thing indeed.

Speciality: He's a good melee fighter, but probably not best placed at the very front line due to his inclination toward assisting others, directing attacks, and being unusually aware of the tides of battle on the field in general. He has natural qualities of leadership and awareness, which become suppressed when fully devoted to face-to-face combat.

Rank: Recruited as tactical marine.

Power Armour History: Mark VII Aquila/Imperator armor that had been painted white previously. Unknown know who may have worn it before. It's been kept in repair and there are some runes etched on the inside of the breastplate that supposedly confer protection.

Description: Aldaric looks pretty decent, aside for one bionic eye. His left eye is blue, and he has light colored skin and somewhat long, thick silver hair. He looks about 40 to 45 in age, pretty standard for being hundreds of years old. A scar over the right eye suggests what might have happened to it in the past.

Skills: Being a tactical marine, Aldaric is proficient with a wide range of weapons. He's more than decent with range weapons and prefers them since their use usually allows a wider field of vision. His excellent awareness skill has saved him and those close to him many times. Aldaric is literate, and he has unique familiarity with fighting Tyranid among other foes.

History: Aldaric was recruited from a deathworld that basically had dragons on it. Human populations had to band together and work with each other to defend themselves against the great beasts. Among them, young Aldaric was a knight who's duty it was to hunt and slay the enemy. Driven with lethal rage, he organized a small band to avenge a devastating attack on his home city that had resulted in the death of his entire family. He was the last man standing with the pelt of the black dragon, Felblaze, in his hand when a representative of the Dark Angels revealed himself. Aldaric had been judged worthy of the opportunity to fight and defend more people, to be part of a new family, and with nothing left to hold him back, he accepted. Aldaric forwent his former family name and changed it to Felbane, as a threat to all the new dragons he would slay.

Having survived the training and transformation into a space marine, Aldaric spent several centuries in service of the Emperor and mankind. Most recently, he fought in the Third Tyrannic War on Tarsis Ultra against the Hive Fleet Leviathan alongside Ultramarines, Mortifactors, several other chapters, and a Deathwatch kill team. Very many lives were lost, but the contingent was vital in stopping about half the Leviathon fleet from advancing into the Milky Way.

The reasons why Aldaric Felbane was tithed to the Deathwatch are unknown, but being one of the few to survive at Tarsis Ultra was probably a factor. His long years of experience and success in the Angels of Absolution had risen him to company master. His loss will be felt.

Being so selected is not seen so much an honor to the Dark Angels subchapters as it is a cause for grief and foreboding. Aldaric doesn't understand the basis for Imperial militaristic machinations, but he obeys, holding to the promise that he is needed to prevent the death of mankind.

Equipment and Armament: Stalker Pattern Bolter, powersword, grenades.

Name: Allarus Serendictus

Chapter: Doom Eagles

Chapter Demeanour: The Doom Eagles live by a simple creed: each and every one of them, by accepting the role as an Astartes, is already dead. They are staunchly fatalistic, fully accepting the bounds of their mortality and prepared to face their death at any given moment. This acceptance of the inevitable brings an absolute serenity and clear minded efficiency to their marines in the face of overwhelming odds.

Personal Demeanour: Somber, stoic and often seen to be brooding, it would be a flat lie to say Allarus is the life of any kind of party. He is a quiet, perceptive type of man, whom prefers to listen to the words of others than put forth his own. The teachings of his chapter are deeply ingrained into his psyche; he has found peace in a death that has not yet consumed him and fears it not in the slightest.

In battle, this affords him a level of calculated precision in place of the spirited adrenaline that fuels other Astartes. Out of battle, it assists him in making peace with his fellows, reminding them that petty differences between individuals matter not in the end. Despite his fatalism and willingness to spearhead assaults, he is by no means suicidal, and understands well that the inevitability of death does not mean he is to perish in vain, but to do so only to fulfill a suitably important task and bring honor to the Imperium and his Brothers.

Speciality: Assault Marine

Rank: Battle-Brother

Power Armour History: A suit of MKVII Aquila Armor of an unknown age, passed down through the generations of Doom Eagles. Each wearer has found his end on the fields of combat, the insides of the suit stained by blood shed over hundreds if not thousands of years and casualties uncounted. Each knick, scratch and scar that mar its surface are the remnants of a fatal wound, left after repairs as a solemn reminder to its wearer.

Description: Allarus is a man of fairly plain appearance. His face is unremarkable, hard and chiseled by the rigorous hormonal therapies of the Astartes but not particularly attractive or undesirable to the common eye. His hair is kept short and well groomed, only an inch or two of his smooth brown locks allowed to spill from his scalp at any given time, and never enough to interfere with his vision. His eyes are a pale grey in shade and often filled with a certain melancholy in place of passion or hatred. As far as Marines go, he is several inches taller than most of his brethren and possesses a powerful physique even for an inhuman warrior, making him well suited for his role as an Assault Marine.

His armor is adherent to the Deathwatch standard, black in color with the exception of its pauldrons. The right holds the standard of the Doom Eagles in the chapter's white and silver, whilst his left bears the Inquisition's aquila and silver coloration. It is pockmarked and battle scarred, reminders of the wounds taken by Marines long passed. When deprived of his armor, simple robes of roughly hewn grey fibers are suitable for his purposes, secured by a sash of finer white silk.

Skills: Allarus is quite talented in close range combat, favoring melee over the longer ranged tactics of his brethren as indicative of his specialization. He prefers the usage of the blade, supplementing it with a combat shield and bolt pistol. He is also skilled in the usage of jump packs and the aerial navigation skills required to successfully use them.

History: Allarus was born upon the decaying remnants of the Agri-World Tellius-III to a family of farmers struggling to make ends meat. Wracked by millennia of nutrient draining farming to meet Imperial tithes, the soil of the world grew barren and sandy with each generation. It was clear to all whom inhabited the planet that the world was dying, and soon would be nothing more than a husk. Yet Allarus, fifth son of his family, would not falter in his duties. Even in his youth as his parents starved and his siblings wasted away in the conditions, the boy toiled on with staunch determination, to meet his fate with a dutiful stiff upper lip.

It was by the graces of the God-Emperor himself that Allarus would find purpose beyond the fields of faltering wheat. The Doom Eagles were a chapter of grim demeanor who searched far and wide for recruits whom suites their unique outlook. Young men who would accept inevitability but remain dutiful and strong in the face of it. The search led them to dying worlds far and wide, and Tellius-III was a prime destination for this tour of the damned. Though they left with few recruits, Allarus was one of them, a child of twelve at the time.

Through grueling trials and heavy indoctrination, the doomed world of his home was forgotten, but not the lessons of fragile existence it taught him. He learned to accept the creed of his new family into his heart, passing the harsh tests the Eagles placed upon neophytes and becoming an official Battle-Brother of the chapter. For decades, he served loyally across battlefields all over the Imperium of Man, finding a niche as an Assault Marine among his fellows. When the oaths of the Deathwatch were to be fulfilled, Allarus, freshly off a campaign which took his company into the heart of an Ork WAAAAGH! was selected to answer the call, as one of the chapter's finest young marines.

Equipment and Armament: Boltpistol, Two Krak & Frag Grenades, Power Sword, Combat Shield, Jump Pack (when applicable)

Miscellaneous: Not an emo, I promise.