Character Creation Sheet:

Name: Kar'ad Jek
Age: 24
Appearance:

The aspirant marines face is carved with scars from training and even with the marines hastened metabolism he still manages to sustain new injuries faster than he can heal. His skin is gradually changing to the customary charcoal black with red sclera.

Equipment:
Bolt pistol
Scout carapiece armor



Psychological profile:
Jek is particularly adept at hunting large predators. Indeed he displays the patience and determination, and relentlessness required to acquire his quarry. He may spend hours getting into the best position while following a pack of predators to ensure that the shot does not miss. This is not to say that he lacks for the vigor and agility of close-quarters fighting, indeed his CQC with boltguns is a subject of much improvement. He also is extremely promising with evasion gymnastics, and always seems to stay clear of the enemy's line of sight. Another subject of note is that this aspirant is fully ambidextrous able to switch sides with the boltgun and not significantly lose any handling characteristics. This aspect is further augmented by the aspirants' flexibility on the battlefield and general good humor. Psychologically, this scout displays the ability to depressurize from battlefield stress taking mere minutes to process and react to situations that are designed to cause emotional overload.

With regards to this aspirant's training; he has already chosen tactical marine as his specialization and has taken to most of his training with relish. As such he has been equipped with the minimal of which Vulkan would demand [see Vulkan pattern boltgun Annex 0093T] The training has progressed within acceptable standards however the aspirant has shown aversion to shock and awe tactics that is not in-keeping with the best practices of the legion. He has, in due course shown developments of a more nuanced nature such as remaining calm under fire and guiding his teammates through terrain hazards such as volcanic eruptions. This has of course been stopped as it is deemed that each son of Vulkan should find their own path through the circle of fire, however as leadership experience this is still a valid form.

Psychologically the aspirant is a maverick and it is unsure if he will ever rise up the ranks to hold command. However, it is entertaining to watch the young marine try to conjure a solution to a task that has not already been considered by several thousand savants and battle brothers. This is his flaw, and it is also a strength, for when the day does come and the savants are not found and the brothers are otherwise engaged it is in this moment his core nature will finally find a use.

Name: Ukra'tor Ves

Age: 21

Appearance: Ukra, though as much a Neophyte as any other of his peers, has naturally proportioned more bodily into that of a fully fledged Astartes warrior; he was always large for his age, even when still among the his tribe on Nocturne, having developed alongside his fellow initiates into a hulking 'youth' clearly built for war.

From his square-jawed head down to his overlarge feet, he is slab-upon-slab of muscled Astartes, his almost Neanderthal-like brow shielding his reddening eyes from the heat and haze of Nocturne, plaited dreadlocks kept close to his scalp, a mouth like a knife-made slit crossing his usually blank face and only shifting the expression when swung to extremes of joy or battle-anger.

Due to his bulk he is often called upon to heft about extra supplies or, in combat terms, the larger specialist weapons required by a Scout formation on the move.

Equipment: Like all of his brothers, Ukra clads himself in the standard half-armour suit of his calling. Having found himself called more unto the hammer than the anvil of war he also carries two combat-knives (you never know when you may need a back-up...), as well as a standard pattern bolt-pistol. A clutch of grenades also hangs from his belt or webbing, but thus far he has found little use for them.

Psychological profile: Ukra Ves believes, at least in his own head, that he exemplifies the Salamanders creed and way of war – he is stolid and stoic, more than happy to face down an adversary he clearly cannot combat alone, but he is not stupid. The Salamanders above all (except perhaps the Lamenters) are known for their brotherhood and dedication to mortals and one another, and although Ukra relies on his size and raw strength, he knows too that his brothers and the squad as a whole is what will ultimately overcome.

His dedication to the Promethean Cult meanwhile is absolute, some could even call it fanatical, the brother not prone to speaking much but often quoting religious passages both to himself and to others, knowing in his twin-hearts that ultimate sacrifice for others, whether mortal or marine, is his purpose and what he is being crafted for.

Name: Constanze Mir’san

Age: Twenty

Appearance: In stark contrast to the other members of his Scout Squadron and fellow neophytes, Constanze is both shorter and lither than his clan brothers. Indeed, on more general terms he is the runt of the pack and carries with him an air of both acknowledgment to this fact, and challenge should the obvious be voiced aloud. His pale skin has been permanently stained by the harshness of Nocturne, leathery and worn like an old man’s despite many years not yet spent. His eyes, mutated like most of his race are tinted an unnatural crimson, which, when paired with his rasping breathing gives him an off-putting presence to the average observer. That perhaps is the best way to summarize the young scout in totality, as a somewhat disconcerting figure, as if he wore a mask and buried beneath the well-kept armor and close-cropped hair of a Scout Marine, something more is obscured.

Equipment: For the most part Constanze’s kit is as you would expect for a brand-new scout. Bolt pistol and combat knife, skirmisher armor, and a batch of grenades.

Psychological Profile: He is the first follower. Constanze knows he is neither the strongest nor the smartest, biggest nor the most charismatic, but what he is, is reliable. Often he falls back on this trait to make himself useful amongst his unit. Quiet and contemplative the young scout does not often speak his mind, knowing cleverer heads will resolve whatever problems await. Instead, he hunkers down and does whatever unsavory task needs doing. In many ways his attitude on his own attributes or lack thereof is an inhibition, holding him back from achieving what he might be capable of. There is little audacity or initiative within Constanze, and he bears a hidden resentment, barely acknowledged even by himself, that he feels when others are more assertive or capable.

Name:
Aloysius Ry'hles

Age:
23

Appearance:
A strong jaw line, a large nose, a brutal cut of brow. Piercing eyes. A generally intimidating appearance, developed during his Initiation. Coupled with a sense of confidence that often borders on, and ventures well into, arrogance. His skin has become spotty and pockmarked from repeated heat damage, it now more often than not has a slight dark red tinge to it, as of skin so often burnt and heat blasted that it no longer has the inclination to peel.

Equipment:
Despite Aloysius' high opinion of himself he possesses the standard issue equipment of a Scout of his experience.
Deep Green Carapace Armor made of overlapping ceramite plating, appearing, at least to Aloysius, to be a significantly upgraded version of that used for the Astra Militarum. Though it has been modified to account for their genetically altered and bio-enhanced bodies he is eager to step up to a full fledged Marine and the Power Armor that comes with that position.
He carries a standard issue .75 Bolter, two Krak grenades on one thigh and a Combat Knife on his chest, though he yearns to make his way to a special weapons team.

Psychological profile:
Aloysius has a high opinion of himself and of the Salamanders as a whole. These high expectations have served him well at times, pushing him to grind away his own inadequacies and allowing him to survive the arduous Initiation process, but they have also worked against him at times. He has failed to hold his tongue or to speak with tact several times, driving a wedge between himself, his contemporaries, and at times his superiors. Bemoaning his own failures as well as though of his squad mates has done him few favors. His intentions are good, and the clarity of those intentions is likely what allowed him to remain in the program, but if those rough edges are not burnt away in the crucible of service his potential will likely go unexplored. Save perhaps his potential in regard to forging armor and weapons and perhaps ensuring the Chapter grounds remain spotless.

Name: Igtaro Bel'siar

Age: 23

Appearance: Igtaro is a true son of Nocturne, though his crimson eyes really come alive during the throes of combat. Accompanied by the Chapter's signature jet black skin, his size and build is average for a Salamanders neophyte and his head is completely shaved. At a glance, he appears fairly 'fresh' and uninjured, with minimal scarring that's usually covered by his armour.

Equipment: Along with the standard Scout armour, Igtaro carries a Stalker-pattern bolt pistol with scope and suppressor along with a combat knife he forged himself and takes pristine care of. Along with ammo, he takes a frag and krak grenade as it always pays to be prepared for any situation. When permitted, he is a fan of the cameleoline cloaks and M40/A1 sniper rifles, though they are not necessary to every mission.

Psychological profile: Igtaro is surprisingly reserved compared to most of his battle-brothers and is quite happy to take a backseat when it comes to conversations. Despite a quiet nature, Igtaro happily listens to his fellow Astartes and Neophytes and is unquestionably loyal with no issues following orders from his superiors.

During training, Igtaro shows a great aptitude for the stealthier style of the 10th Company and seems rather comfortable in this kind of role. To Igtaro, being one of the Emperor's finest is much like controlling the flames of a forge. His beliefs drive him to not become the hammer against the anvil of the Imperium's enemies but instead the spark that ignites the flaming bellows of battle.