[CHAR] Blackshields [Warhammer 40K, Horus Heresy]

[HeySeuss]

Once, they were brothers...

_{Garviel Loken, loyal beyond the betrayal of Warmaster Horus}

Procedure:

• Using this template, please post a character sheet.
• Characters must be astartes.

Character Sheet

(Template Here)

Name:
Age:
Legion:
Planet of Origin:
Physical Description:

It's probably best to actually describe the character if you are going to rely on a picture, or you can do without the picture if you like, but definitely describe.

Skillset:

Characters will have similar training, but not

History:

Explain how your character got there -- no 'the story will come out in RP' lines, please -- I want a feel for where your character is coming from. Were they in a traitor legion, were they in a loyalist legion whose task force was destroyed. How did they survive the betrayal?

Psychological Profile:

An idea of how the character thinks and so forth; should be linked to the history.

Equipment:

[TemplarKnight07]

Character Sheet

Name: Hephaistos Akhenaton
Age: 205
Legion:The Thousand Sons
Planet of Origin: Terra (Achaemedian Empire Citizen)
Physical Description:

(The sorcerer being Hephaistos)

Skillset:

C

Telepathy, Standard Combat training with a focus on fencing, and skills in diplomacy and subterfuge.

History:

As one of the thousand survivors of the first generation of Astartes made for the XVth Legion, Hephaistos has lived to see his legion go through some of the toughest trials of any of the Emperor's beloved children. Having practiced both the art of warfare and his newfound powers on the surface of Terra and on some of the first worlds they encountered in The Great Crusade, he saw the ravages of the "Flesh-change" consume many of his brethren before they at last found their genetic father, Magnus, on the desolate and isolated world of Prospero.

Their father, with his great powers over the psychic energies of the Warp far surpassing even the greatest sorcerers remaining in his legion, managed to stop the mutations ravaging his sons, saving Hephaistos and his remaining brothers from a horrific fate, and enabling them to continue to use their great and terrible powers in the service of the Emperor of Mankind.

Dozens of worlds were brought to Imperial Compliance by guile or warp-fire through the legion's work, and not even the ire of several of the other legions was enough to stain the pride of Hephaistos or the other Thousand Sons. Though the Council of Nikaea eventually banned them from using their powers as a legion, they would continue to work to expand their knowledge of the sorcerous arts in secret over the centuries.

When Magnus foresaw the great betrayal of his brother Horus, he did everything in his power to try and avert it, and the legion's greatest sorcerers worked beside him to try and defy fate again, but to no avail. He could not save Horus, his father the Emperor could not believe his warning, and he saw the doom of his legion looming.

In despair and one last attempt to avert the will of the dark deity that had sought to take him and his legion, Magnus did not prepare any defences nor give any warning to his world of Prospero of the Imperial forces coming to destroy them, he dispersed the Thousand Sons' fleet far away from Prospero, for those elements to look on in horror as the massive fleet with the Space Wolves at their head coming to bombard the planet.

Hephaistos was one of those aboard the vessels, the lone sorcerer aboard a small frigate far away from the terrible scene at Prospero acting as its messenger given his status as a member of the Athanaean Cult, he watched as his planet burned and the Imperial forces touched down to assault Tizca, to at last hear one last psychic transmission from his father, presumably sent to any other sorcerer aboard vessels within range of Magnus's mighty power. The message was simple: escape and warn the Imperium, Isstvan III and the disasters to be inflicted there must not be the death of the Imperium, and those that remain will need aid if they're to avenge their fallen brothers and comrades. Do whatever it takes to earn their trust, and do not let the sacrifice of the Thousand Sons be in vain.

So, Hephaistos fled, along with any other ship that managed to get away that had a Thousand Sons sorcerer with the ability to hear the same message. The Warp was turbulent however, and it took a long time before they could exit out, and when they did, the crew of the ship found themselves far off their mark, but in Imperial territory at least. The ship was swiftly seized by local imperial forces with the assistance of a detatchment of Imperial Fists after they found where the vessel had come from, where they found the sorcerer Hephaistos waiting for them, his weapons removed and armour put aside in expectation of their coming. He was arrested and interrogated, where he told them what had happened and what his last orders had been.

Though disbelieving at first, news of the devastation at Isstvan III travelled fast as numerous survivors of the incident from various legions made their escapes via various means, and Hephaistos and by extension the Thousand Sons' actions were verified (though obviously too late for the Thousand Sons, but not too late for Hephaistos). Moved out from his containment cell, Hephaistos was set free to do as he wished, though they urged him to continue to abide by the proclamations of the Council of Nikaea, and gave him advice that perhaps one of the legions nearest Isstvan could use his assistance.

In his travels towards the center of this conflict, he encountered the Rogue Trader Blaxius Kyros, and leaving the frigate and the crew that had loyally followed him to do as they wished, he packed up his gear and came along with him upon hearing of a proposition which the trader had for any "rogue" Astartes.

Psychological Profile: A cunning and subtle mind to compliment his powers, Hephaistos has learned to be cautious and careful around others, weighing his responses before giving them, and not to give himself away when secrecy and deception could be just as effective tools as honesty. Though his psyche sustained heavy damage upon seeing his legion basically be ruined twice over his lifetime, and now left fatherless, homeless, and legionless, he keeps to the duty charged to him by both Primarch and Emperor as best he can.

Equipment:

• Bolt pistol and Energy Sword
• Mark IV Maximus Power Armour
• Psyker Staff

[Jb]

Character Sheet

Name: Ferreus (Gothic for both 'Iron' and 'Immovable')

Age: Around 247

Legion: Unknown - Suspected to be the Death Guard

Planet of Origin: Unknown - Terra or Barbarus

Physical Description:

Standing at an average height of seven feet and three inches, when out of his armour, he has the look of an experienced pugilist and wrestler - not at all strange, considering he is both - his shaven cranium of dark stubble sloping down to an almost Neanderthal brow line, two eyes of stormy grey glaring out from deep-set sockets and brows of black hair as if challenging anyone and everyone.

Continuing from the top, his nose and ears are certainly that of a fighter, the former having clearly been broken a number of times, and the latter both formed into the well known 'cauliflower ears' of the martial man. His thick-set jaw is kept equally as hairless as his head, crossed with faded scars, and nearly as square as the remainder of his body, his torso very much seeming like a solid slab of rock...except made from muscle, bone and sinew; each limb is like the trunk of a tree, stretched psychically as far as the unique physiology of the Astartes will allow them to go, muscles rippling clearly beneath his rather pale skin as he moves and his hands more than able to crush the skull of both mortal man and Space Marine both.

In battle he girds himself in his not-always-reliable suit of Mk III 'Armorum Ferrum' Pattern power armour, the entire construct a walking edifice to brutal frontal assaults and wars of attrition; from the numerous pits left by solid shells and projectiles, to the deeply burnt scorch-marks of more laser based weaponry, Ferreus accepts them all on his re-painted armour of deepest black - however, if one looks close enough, they may be able to see through the murky and well worn layer. Just under the surface of those colours which obscure his true origins, if you look close enough without becoming a target of his ire, one may peak the crimson shoulder plate, gauntlet, knee and stormy coloured ceramite of the obsolete Dusk Raiders.

As a loyalist member of a so-called 'traitor' legion, and as one of the re-minted blackshields, the sturdy armour of this Astartes goes completely unadorned apart from several Imperial Aquila to show where his loyalties lie. On the other hand battle scars are the only decoration that a warrior needs, and he has plenty of them as well.

Skillset:

Oddly enough, Ferreus combines the skill-sets of several differing legions - the stoic attitude and casual aloofness of the Dark Angels, the ferocity and thrill for close-quarters fighting of the Blood Angels and World Eaters, and the immunity to biological substances and extra ordinary constitution of the Death Guard. In hand-to-hand conflict or a close-range fire-fight he is truly to be feared, whether using his weapons or his fists alone, coming at his enemies directly and without hesitation or mercy.

His specialisations include trench warfare and wars of attrition, as well as warfare in harsh or toxic enviroments.

History:

Istvaan III...the Choral City...

The whole sordid affair was where the life of the Astartes known simply as Ferreus had truly began, a rebirth if you will, the final awakening of a once loyal soldier and follower of his Primarch to the depth and breadth of corruption and betrayal which had slithered its way into the heart and soul of the once-beloved Warmaster and his now twisted brethren. It was here that the loyalist, primarily Terran-born elements, of each of the legions was to be purged from existence by their own former comrades - thereby destroying any inner revolts, and showing the utter loyalty and commitment to the cause of the traitors. Loyalty to the Warmaster and their Primarchs over the Emperor, and commitment to the cause of placing this maniacal pawn of Chaos at the head of the burgeoning Empire of Man.

Well, needless to say he believed he was dead; rising stiff and alone on the dead surface of a dead planet, digging his way through fallen rubble that had buried him for over three weeks before finally reaching the surface once more, wary to the point of paranoia and mistrustful of any other he came across whether purported loyalist or one of his blood-enemies of his former legion and their allies.

While not Istvaan III itself, each and every one of the loyalist combatants massacred on that damned planet as far as he knew, Ferreus had been forced to turn his gun on at least half of his own company to save his own skin. It had been on a planet called Leandros IV, he and his company - for he had achieved the rank of Lieutenant, before being placed down to Sergeant for an unspecified infraction, and was trusted to complete his tasks with efficiency - that formerly jovial and friendly brothers-in-arms had turned their weapons upon he and his own in just another attempt to thin out the ranks of those more loyal to their Emperor than to their Primarch and his cause.

After fighting his way through his 'brothers', leaving those he could not protect to the tender mercies of the enemy, he fled into the thick undergrowth and forcefully boarded the Thunderhawk which had been used to land upon the planet, urging the pilot at gunpoint to take him up and away from there even as he began to scrape the paint and insignia of his legion from his ceramite.

Upon learning the full extent of the atrocity on Istvaan III, and with every intention to do his utmost to bring the Emperor's wrath to those he now saw as nothing more than prey, Ferreus painted his armour black and marked himself with several hand-painted aquila to show where his loyalties lay to any that would see.

Between then and his meeting with the Rogue Trader Balixus Kyros, a meeting that would turn out to give him a goal for his efforts and a chance at seeing justice meted out in full, he took part in numerous guerilla actions against traitor formations - it was in once such action that he claimed his chainaxe, plucking it from the still twitching fingers of a World Eaters officer and spitting upon the corpse as he did so. Sieges, ambushes, and frontal assaults, he took part in any and every action that he could if it would damage those that he had once counted as allies and peers.

Such things take a toll even on a superhuman warrior, and the respite now given to him after being picked up and bought to relative 'safety' aboard Balixus' vessel is a blessed relief...and yet there is always the tugging at the back of his mind, the primal need to pile death upon those who wronged him, and perhaps he is once more let loose against the traitor Horus and his cronies there will be no more peace for him. Only war.

Psychological Profile:

Ferreus is almost as dour as they come; although his demeanour is rather without emotion, fatalistic, and black, there are plenty who have seen this as a sign that he must therefore be mentally slower to boot! This, as those many have found, is certainly not the case and Ferreus is actually in possession of a rather keen, logical, and cunning intellect that has allowed him to foresee many things that others cannot both on and off of the field of battle. When the bullets and dirt starts flying is when he truly comes alive, amidst the cries and screams of his enemies, fighting alongside his brothers and in the name of his Emperor - who he still considers his true liege - and in the rarest of circumstances he has even been known to sneer, which is as close to a smile as he can get.

Equipment:

• Phobos-pattern Bolter with attached combat blade.
• Ikanos-pattern Bolt Pistol
• Chainaxe - taken from a World Eater
• Standard issue gladius (the blade coated in various poisons to which Ferreus is immune)

[MonkeyBusiness]

Name:Ragnvald Ironclaw
Age: 36
Legion: Space Wolves
Planet of Origin: Fenrir
Physical Description:

Ragnvald underneath his wolf helmet sports long red hair kept under control in two shoulder length braids. The sides of his head are shaved clean as well as sporting enlarged canine teeth and a more elongated face showing that he had taken to the mark of the Wulfen more than others.

Skillset:

Ragnvald is a skilled close combat fighter and should be feared as he fights like a demon as he rips his enemies apart. His bloodlust fits in perfectly with how everyone views the rest of the Space Wolves as he leaps into combat without a second thought.

History:

Born to a Fenrisian tribe in the harsh Fenrir wasteland, Ragnvald was raised to be a warrior at a young age as a mean to survive the feral animals that roamed the frozen land. He had grown up hearing the legends of the Sky Warriors that protected their planet from outside forces and how they invite into their ranks strong young warriors from the tribes. This soon became his dream as all he wanted was to join the gods in their massive fortress.

As Ragnvald was entering his teen years, he was recruited by a Wolf Priest to take the trials to become one of the Sky Warriors. He gladly accepted and was taken to The Aett where he was tested and put through many trails to prove his worthiness to be a Space Wolf. He was placed into a Blood Claw pack to prove into himself in blood. It was soon after that Ragnvald was moved to a Sky Claw pack as he proved to a hand full for even his Grey Wolf pack leader to handle.

This allowed the young Sky Claw to be present at the Fall of Prospero when the Space Wolves descended upon the planet to cleanse the world and execute Magnus the Red. It was during this battle that Ragnvald was caught up in one of the few skirmishes that actually took place and was left for dead by his battle brothers as he was struck in the head and feel during the fighting. When he woke up and saw that the fighting was over and the attacking forces had already pulled off the planet. He took this as a sign that he had done something wrong in battle and is now driven to prove himself in battle before he returns to Fenrir so he will be welcomed back as a warrior and hopefully be bestowed the rank of Grey Hunter or even a Wolf Guard.

Psychological Profile:

Ragnvald could be considered by most chapters to be completely unstable and unpredictable. He is driven by his thirst for battle and likes to throw battle plans aside for the rush of leaping into the fray to bath in blood. Though he is driven by his love for battle, he will fiercely defend his battle brothers and would gladly take the bullets for his brothers. Ragnvald is a rather stubborn wolf who isn't much for common sense but does have a strong love of drink.

Equipment:

• Pair of Lightning claws
• Bolter
• Assault Pack
• Frag Grenades

[HeySeuss]

Name: Prodigal Son
Age: Unknown, but reckoned to be at least a century old.
Legion: Luna Wolves, renounced.
Planet of Origin: Terra or Cthonia.
Physical Description:

Prodigal Son's armor is repaired from battlefield salvage and the paint has been carefully scraped off and the pauldron insignia defaced and painted over with the Raptor Imperialis symbol of the Reunification Wars, a symbol forces loyal to the Emperor fought under on Terra as well as the Imperial Aquila. The armor is not as efficient as a properly-maintained mark, but it gets him into the fight. He's done the best he can with repairs, but the battle damage shows.

With the helmet off, Prodigal Son is unremarkable, but has a gold service stud and a silver service stud on his brow. He does not like to display them often, for they display his features and those tell a tale; as is sometimes the case, the gene-seed expresses strongly, as it does here.

His is the likeness of the Warmaster, the Betrayer Horus. To perhaps further demonstrate where he stands on the matter, he has the Imperial Aquila tattooed onto his cheek. The other is marred with the scars of las-fire and the shrapnel from a melted helmet face-plate, a memento of one of the engagements of the Great Crusade. His head is completely shaven.

When not fighting, when not focusing, he stares off into the distance, his mind visibly churning. He wrestles with himself, with his love of his former brothers. With his shame for his gene-father's betrayal.

Skillset:

Prodigal Son is a tactical marine to the bone; there are few tasks that a Space Marine and his bolter are not suited to, after all. The tools depend on the tactical situation. Some Legions wed themselves to specific styles, but the true essence is to adapt, but adapt ferociously and, above all, win. That was always the way of his legion, as it moved from victory to victory, rarely tasting defeat. His experience in numerous Imperial Compliance actions has honed his capabilities.

History:

Prodigal Son's exact circumstances are not entirely known, mostly because he does not speak -- his oath is of silence, his penance is in deeds. His Primarch's sin cannot be washed away, and he intends to sell his life dearly to the enemies of the Emperor. It is hard to say whether the man is one of the Luna Wolves holdovers of the original intake of Terran recruits or a Cthonian addition that stayed strangely loyal to the Emperor when so many of his own followed the Warmaster, their gene-father, where he would lead.

What is known is that the Rogue Trader picked up Prodigal Son on the planet Polybius on his route; there was ferocious fighting between Imperial Army elements and Chaos Cultists seeded there by the Word Bearers Legion. Prodigal Son did not command, did not rally, did not organize. He fought, hunting the leaders, looking to decapitate the cultist command. Those he did not end with a bolter round to the head he hacked down ferociously with a chainsword. He stalked the trenchworks like a ghost. When he struck, it was with singular and suicidal ferocity, fury made manifest.

In one particular case at the end of the revolt on Polybius, out of ammo for his bolter and out of promethium for his chainsword, he encountered a leader of the Cultists. The Psyker tried to seduce him with the words of a demon that knew all too well what his heritage was. The woman's skull was splattered messily with two rapid blows of his gauntleted fist and a bellow of spiritual pain. It did not go unnoticed, word spread on the planet.

When the Rogue Trader told this silent Astartes the plan, he gave a nod and came aboard.

Psychological Profile:

It's hard to say what Prodigal Son thinks, as he does not speak. But his actions are very clear -- he has the same controlled viciousness that made the Sons of Horus one of the most successful of the legions during the Great Crusade. In countless compliance actions, they struck mercilessly. The same applies here. It's his heritage to the bone, even if it is now a traitor's heritage.

Equipment:

• Umbra-Pattern Boltgun. It has a hook and a tether line that allows it to stay attached and handy when he lets go of the grip. It also has a foregrip if he wishes to stabilize it. That is not Mechanicus-approved modification but he is beyond caring. It allows him to switch quickly over to his chainsword.
• Thunder Edge Pattern Chainsword, magnetized with a switch so Prodigal Son can release it from harness and bring it to bear moments after releasing his bolter.
• Armor that is truly the salvaged and repaired parts of other armor. It is, essentially, what will be known as Mk. V "Heresy Pattern" armor. Notably, the knuckles are spiked. The helmet is a modified Mk. IV, there are bits and pieces from other marks and field expedient. Plates are riveted on, repairs are visible. It is not parade-ready, but it can still fight.
• Grenades when he can get them.

[agentmanatee]

Character Sheet

(Template Here)

Name: Kraeger Antal
Age: 187
Legion: Iron Warriors
Planet of Origin: Olympia
Physical Description:

Kraeger is in every way an Iron Warrior. He has a stern and dollorous countenance. His eyes are a dark accusing grey and he has no hair. His face is thick and menacing with a long sacr running from his chin to his left temple. His left ear is mostly gone, having been lost to a particularly nasty ork and his bald head has several long scars. Wether these were self inflicted or battle wounds is unknown. His Eyebrows are thin and raven black, and he sports no facial hair. Normally he carries a doure expression, free of happiness or hope, only scorn and paranoia. Bags have developed under his eyes after going without sleep for far too long, even for an Astartes Legionaire. His armour, Crusade pattern, still carries his veteran hazard stripes and even the symbol of his legion... though the metallic skull has long since been purposefully defaced, ruined by its owner.

In addition his armour has begun to show sign of hasty and ad-hoc repairs. Magnetic studded plates cover his right pauldron and chest plate and scorch and poc marks have been similarly covered here and there about the armour. In addition, a few more markings on his armour seem to have been defaced in a similar vein to his Legions insignia, though it is unclear what they may have once been. He stands average for a Legionnaire, seven feet and several inches. His right arm is cybernetic, currently it is sheathed in his armour however.

Skillset:

Kraeger was a Veteran, a son of Olympia and survivor of many of the Iron Warriors most vicious sieges. He was there during the decimation declared by Perturabo, helping to beat his brothers to death on the orders of a god; and he endured. He was there when walls were cracked and his brothers fell in droves;he endured. He squatted in trenches and fox holes, dirt and muck and shrapnel sprayed over him as well as blood from Legionnaires in the hole with him; and he endured. His skills are those of Endurance and siege, how to stand and fight longer and harder than anyone else. He and his bolter have stood in trenches and in the breaches of fortresses for over a century, and he has endured. He is most talented with his bolter at medium to close range combat common in a siege as well as trench fighting, fortification building, and the assault of strongholds.

History:

'When first I became an Iron Warrior, when first I saw Great Perturabo he gave us an order... an order of decimation. My friend Alris drew his straw and I helped beat him to death with my own hands. When we were ordered to dig a trench or foxhole, and sit for months without moving we did it. When it came time to burst from our fortifications and charge a gunline I did it without hesitation or a second thought. When a siege broke and we were ordered to slaughter everyone within I was the one to carry it out, the murderer who's hand held the axe. When Great Olympia rebelled and I was ordered to do the same to my home I did not question, I simply did. After I earned my stripes and was told to enter a lodge of equals, to discuss amongst brothers I did so. I never questioned an order, not once did I hesitate or refuse.

... Until Istvaan. I knew my orders, after the bombs I was to join in the obliteration of the stragglers. I agreed, never one to question and down our transport went. It never landed. In the atmosphere we were hit and went down. Only I survived. We had landed in... i-it was a pile of my brothers. I don't know how many, I couldn't count them all. For the first time I disobeyed an order without question. I found those survivors and joined them against my own legio- against my Primarchs orders. I struck the skull from my shoulder, I struck the totems and symbols of the lodge... but could not strike my stripes for they at least were my own. As they descended on us I hopped on the first transport away that I could find... I could never go back now... perhaps that was good.

Eventually, I do not know how long now, I came upon a rouge trader. Someone who said he could help me... I still don't believe him but its something. Maybe I can follow the right orders for once... I don't know anymore. I don't trust anymore... oh well, I suppose woe is me and all that. At least here my 'brothers' and good 'father' aren't here to hunt me... yet at least.

Psychological Profile:

Kraeger is a bit strange for an Iron Warrior, possessed of a dark sourt of humour. Although he is stern and dollorous as they come, he has a strange wit when it comes to dark or black humour, using his and others misery as a source of comedy. Wether he simply enjoys this or its a coping mechanism is uncertain. What is certain is his wish for justice, justice and vengeance. Unfourtanetly, for his part in the slaughter at Istvaan he understands justice may mean his death... and wouldn't that be great for a laugh?

Equipment:

• Umbra pattern bolter: He has a leather strap he uses to hold it most often when not in use, preffering it to mag locking the bolter to him.
• Plasma Pistol, Stolen: Taken from an old 'friend' of his, he keeps it in a thermally cooled holster when not in use or on cooldown. The custom weapon is larger than most other plasma pistols and more powerful, but heats up much faster. He has taken to calling it the Biting Remark
• Mk.2 Crusade Pattern armour(modified): His armour is slowly becoming modified over time due to the need for repairs and maintenance, though it has not yet become what will one day be known as 'Heresy' pattern armour.
• Entrenching tool: Equivalent to the combat knives of other legions.

[POOHEAD189]

Hope this is Ok

Name:Uriah Valondus
Age:189
Legion:Ultramarines
Planet of Origin:Macragge
Physical Description:
Uriah is tall and broad, an Astartes made of over 7 feet of muscle. His body and his face are both statuesque, looking as if it was chiseled from a skilled artisan to portray the classical experienced Space Marine commander. His brown hair is cropped short and his storm blue eyes are piercing. He dons a jagged scar over his left eye, though he is not blind in it. His armor is dented and scratched, but otherwise well maintained and obviously given excellent repairs. All in all, he is the epitome of a shining Astartes that has survived the worst and intend to keep on coming.

Skillset: Due to the lack of unspecialized units in the time before the end of the Heresy, Uriah is typically a 'jack of all trades' soldier, having skills in plasma and bolter weaponry, close combat experience, and tactical battlefield knowledge.

History:

Born on Macragge, Uriah was trained from birth to be apart of the XIII Legion. He quickly showed promise with his abilities as both a combatant and soldier, eventually becoming a Sergeant. Due to the Ultramarine's Primarch Roubort Guilliman and his exceptional leadership, no other legion of the Astartes save the Luna Wolves conquered as many worlds as the XIII Legion, and Uriah was proud to be apart of it.

He was at the forefront of The Great Crusade, following his Primarch and brothers into battle, liberating worlds from Ork Xenos and rebellious men who would defy their emperor. It was after a particularly nasty battle, won through his tactical brilliance that lead to the survival of his squad, that he was awarded the rank of Sergeant.

During the Battle of Calth, Uriah was stationed under Captain Remus Ventanus and held the manor of a former Governor, joining with Captain Lyros Sydance and his Ultramarines. They defended the Palace against waves of traitorous Word Bearers until they used a Hammer/Anvil maneuver and decimated the advancing forces. Uriah was himself fortunate, for as the planet was being evacuated and his brethren were being lead into the tunnel systems below, he was picked up by a transport of his brothers and led into the atmosphere to fight another day and avoid the fate of the war of attrition against the Word Bearers beneath the planet's surface.

Psychological Profile:Uriah is very close to the Ultramarine ideal. He is loyal, charismatic, yet stoic. He genuinely cares for not only his brothers, but for the common Imperial citizen. Tactically intelligent, he is also somewhat driven by his feelings of honor and does his best to uphold the values of his Primarch and Emperor, using their examples as a code to follow behind. Despite his kind nature, he is a ruthless combatant and is merciless when dealing with traitors and Xenos, being more than happy to exterminate the enemies of the Emperor.

Equipment:

• Bolter
• Plasma Pistol
• Gladius