[CHAR] It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP [Reboot/Continuation] [MATURE]

[Bright_Ops]

Name: Khaz

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Height and Weight: 7'0 feet tall and 300 pounds of largely muscle.

Speciality: Melee, Digger, Underground Fighter

Appearance: Standing over seven feet tall on cloven hooves, Khaz tends to draw the eye and a fair few muttered prayers of protection under the breaths of the devoted. A humanoid goat in appearance, Khaz is quite clearly physically imposing with the well honed muscles and scars of someone who has spent their whole life fighting battle after battle. His horns are sharp and well taken care of, through never polished enough to shine. His fur is messy and often unkempt, the only attention that it is ever given is the occasional bath to prevent himself from smelling too horrible and the occasional trim to prevent it from getting in the way. His eyes are those of a goat as well and are a strangely lovely brown color.

Uniform: Khaz wears a somewhat... adjusted flak jacket over a layer of thick studded leather armor that covers his chest and his upper part of his legs, cutting off above his double jointed knees.


Armament: A primative but finely made, heavy greatsword. A large shovel and a mining pick.

Personality/Demeanour: Khaz is a devoted servant of the God Emperor, despite his monsterous appearance. Growing up on Helhiem, he was raised in a primitive tribal society of adhuman beastmen that were surrounded by enemies that ranged from the vile traitor tribes that had forshaken the light of their mighty Emperor for the twisted, easy powers of the Dark Gods to the inhuman and almost mythical 'Raiders from the mists', creatures with ears like knives that sometimes emerged silently from the darkness to steal souls away before disappearing once again.

Khaz is surprisingly level headed for a member of his tribe; He still has a violent temper that can come to the surface when he is enraged with is common amongst beastmen, but he is aware of himself enough he doesn't lose himself completely to his battlelust or strike out when it isn't warranted. Like the rest of the Warband, Khaz is committed to the idea of dying in glorious battle while fighting valiantly against the enemies of the God Emperor in order to earn his rightful place by his side in his great war tent... through of course, the longer you stay alive the more foes you can slay and battles you can win, earning yourself a place closer to the Emperor's side.

While he hasn't been around normal humans for long, Khaz can tell that they hold himself and those like him in great contempt and hatred. They had long known this was the case, but seeing it first hand didn't do the stories justice. Still, they are all servants of the Emperor... as long as they do not attempt him harm or try to dishonor him he would do the same.

Greatest Ambition: To earn as great a place by the Emperor's side as he can.

Greatest Hatred: The vile and twisted servants of the Dark Gods and the cowardly Elder.

Skills: Khaz is a powerful melee fighter after spending years digging in his tribes mine for strong metals to strengthen both his tribe and his body while occasionally fighting against the enemies of both his tribe and the Emperor.

Several of these battles happened within mining tunnels, giving him some experience in fighting in such conditions.

Unsurprisingly, Khaz is rather good at digging if such a skill is called upon.

History: Helhiem is a planet covered in mist producing swamps and forests with the occasional mountain range popping out over the plant life. These mountains are often points of contention between the tribes that live there due to the strong metals that can be found inside of them, just waiting to be mined out for weapons and armor. Once it was colonized by humans sometime in the distant past, but events lost to time have resulted in the population transforming into adhuman beastmen.

While normally such a planet would be cleansed and recolonized by the Imperuium, many of the tribes on the planet are devote worshipers of the Imperial Creed, an acceptable variation that encourages the adhuman mutants to kill as many of the Emperors enemies as possible before dying themselves.

While there are tribes that worship the dark powers of chaos, they are forced to live in the worst of conditions in order to avoid being hunted down and wiped out by the loyalist tribes. The planet is also occasionally raided by the Dark Elder, but such raids tend to be small scale and are quiet rare.

Since Khaz was born, he was raised by the tribe as a whole rather then just by his birth parents in order to become a productive member of the tribe. Taught how to fight and survive off of the land from a young age, his childhood was harsh and designed to prepare him for a hard, brutal life ahead. At the age of eight, he entered the mine that his tribe controlled, learning how to harvest the metals that made their equipment while building up his body, toughing it up.

Over the years there were several attacks launched by the vile followers of the dark gods, trying to seize the metals of the mine for themselves. These were often short but brutal engagements through Khaz managed to prove himself in the fires of war during battle.

At the age of sixteen, the servants of the Emperor descended from the skies in order to seek those willing to fight and die in his name. The various loyalist tribes, more then willing to go but unwilling to send everyone and risk either the tribes dying out or the followers of the dark gods getting strong enough to become a greater threat on the planet decided on drawing lots to decide who would go to earn honor and glory in the Emperor's name in the heavens. Khaz was one of the lucky chosen.

The First Helhiem Warband is at full regiment strength of around a thousand combatants; six hundred of them are dedicated melee warriors, two hundred are great bow archers with additional duties as scouts and scavengers, one hundred healers and one hundred craftsmen of various degrees to repair and make equipment. While they are all battle hardened, this will be their first battle off world... and their first fight against greenskins.

Miscellaneous:

Helhiem legend has it that the tribes of Helheim were once amongst the greatest champions of the almighty God Emperor who waged an endless war against countless foes but the greatest of which were the Dark Gods, vile and twisted deities that were little more then distorted mockeries of the light of the Emperor. In an attempt to weaken the Emperor, the Dark Gods unleashed a curse on the people of Helhiem, turning their forms monstrous in an attempt to trick the Emperor into slaying his own devoted champions. While the other forces of the Emperor were prepared to turn on them for appearing to be vile beasts, the Emperor himself was not fooled by the trick.

Rather then undo the curse and restore his champions to their human form the Emperor instead offered them his blessing and calmed their rage filled minds, allowing his champions the ability to take advantage of their new bodies to crush the cowardly servants of the Dark Gods with clear minds and renewed purpose.

The Imperial Guard has not seen fit to grant the First Helhiem Warband lazguns. Considering that the company is largely melee focused with its few ranged elements wielding great bows with enough strength to send their standard arrows through almost half a foot of iron, this isn't that big of a problem for them.

[agentmanatee]

Vox officer Ninke Ingran

Name: Ninke Ingran

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Height/weight: 5'4, 127 lb.

Speciality: Vox officer

Appearance: Ninke is a surprisinly petite young woman with her short height and lithe frame with a feminine figure. Her skin is light and ruddy, and she has a myriad of freckles on her face as well as a small mole at the corner of her left eye. Her eyes are hazel, but this campaign has left her scarred. HEr face has been left with a web of plasma burn scars from the final battle, the rough lines snakeing from her lips across the lower half of her face, stopping around her nose. Her right cheek was scarred more harshly than her left which is mostly alright. Her right arm up from her hand is similarly burned up to the elbow, but this is hidden with her fatigues. Her dirty blonde hair is kept somewhat strangely to some, but not strange for her regiment. The back of her head as well as the left side are completely shaved, with the hair remaining kept long and brushed to cover the shaved pats of her head. Her voice is bubbly and some would say obnoxious with her heavy accent(think swiss), but she is not as melancholic as many others.

Her left arm has been replaced with cybernetics, she was not given false skin but hides it beneath her long sleeved fatigues. Similarly, her left leg starting at the knee is cybernetic beneath her boot and fatigues.

Uniform: Ninke wears the cream colored uniform of the Hirisit 482nd, over which the similarly colored heavy flak armor of the new regiment is worn. She also has the ochre poncho that all of the Guardsman of the regiment have.(though it is not always worn)

Armament: Standard M36 Lasgun, Standard issue imperial Guard Combat Knife, 2 frag grenades

Gear: Vox caster, "The Imperial infantrymans uplifting Primer", Standard Imperial guard kit, holy symbol, Mess kit, Water canteen, 5 las packs, Microweave poncho

Personality/Demeanour: Ninke is a zealot by all accounts, and happy to be one. Being born and raised on a throne world to pilgrims leads to a life filled with praise for the God Emperor of mankind, and service in his name. Though she is a zealot, who has incredile love and reverance for the Emperor, she is far less furious about it, and believes that all men and women should love the emperor just as she does. To this end, she attempts to be as friendly as possible to others, wishing to sway them to strengthen their faith in the god Emperor. She is bubbly, and optimistic, often out of place in the Imperial guard due to her optimism. She truly believes that the Emperor loves mankind, and that all mankind should serve him. Because of this, she has no greater hate than that for Heretics and non-believers, she is singularly hateful of the unfaithful.

Greatest ambition: To serve the Emperor in the Imperial guard, eventually marry and have children(all for his glory)

Greatest hatred: Heretics, the unfaithful

Skills: Though only an average shot and melee fighter, Ninke is surprisingly adept with a vox(or other similar tech), and is a truly superb communications oficer able to calmly relay information under pressure(only tested artificial pressure, as she has seen no real combat like the rest of her regiment)

History: Ninke is the daughter of two pilgrims, who took the trip to Hirisit in order for their daughter to be born where the light of the emperor was at its brightest, Ninke was born on the shriine world, and her parents moved there to better serve the Emperor. She grew up surrounded by zealots, and in turn became one. Her parents instilled her with great fauth, but they also taught that more flies are caught with honey than vinegar, so she grew kind, friendly, and pious. She was taught of the patron saint of Hirisit Ariette, the Shining saint, a great Imperial general who is said to have liberated Hiristis as well as many other worlds, a woman of unparalelled Strategical skill. The shining Saint was an idol for the young Ninke, and she has a holy symbol that is an effigy of her that she is never without.

She was uncertain for quitze some time about how she would serve the Emperor best, until she leraned of the Imperial Guard recruitment on world, gearing to a holy crusade, and Ninke knew her purpose. She signed up, wishing to serve the Emperor on the field of battle, like many other young Zealots on Hirisit. She became popular among other training guardsman for her optimism and faith, even her superiors enjoyed her attitude(still bootcamp... so she didn't KNOW that until after). She displayed incredible talent for using a Vox caster, and was trained as a Vox officer.

Now, she and her green regiment have arrived at their first campaign, full of zeal and hate for the enemies of mankind. Ninke is prepared to bring the light of the Emperor to the Greenskin xenos... she has no idea how wrong she is...

[Dannyrulx]

Pyrotechnics Officer Carscallen

Name: Angelika Carscallen

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Height and Weight: 170lbs, 5'11"

Speciality: Banner Bearer and Pyrotechnic Officer.

Appearance:
Angelika (Sometimes shortened to Angel) is a tall figure and quite muscled, as most Cadians are. She has dirty blonde hair pulled back into a messy and loose bob. She is of Caucasian origins, and a face that an old-Terran would call 'Mediterranean,' with a defined nose and oval face. Her one remaining eye is bright violet, a side affect of living so close to the Eye of Chaos that many Cadians suffer from, her other eye having been replaced by a bionic one at the age of 25.

Uniform:
Almost never seen without her mark XI rebreather either on her face or hanging on her neck and with an armour partly Carapace and partly Flak, Angel is quite a unique sight to see on the battlefield. Her armour is perpetually scorched from flamer runoff and and has an incredibly large amount of pockets sewn into it, holding everything from military-grade thermite capable of denting even terminator armour to standard krak and frag grenades. Her trousers and boots are also much bulkier than normal, with padding and a flame-retardant substance having been added to prevent drips setting fire to her. This flame-retardant substance extends to her hands, where she has a pair of thick gloves to wipe off the residual promethium during combat. When using her heavy flamer she uses a special case to hold the regimental banner, but otherwise holds it as normal.

Armament:
When in a pyrotechnics role, a promethium heavy flamer, with a boltpistol as backup, which she also uses in official settings. The boltpistol was scavenged from a commissar killed in 'enemy actions.'

Personality/Demeanour:
Dealing with explosives and highly volatile chemicals is an occupation that requires concentration, deliberation, and steady hands, all of which Angel has in earnest. Cadian military upbringing and close to nine years of combat experience have taught her plenty about combat, and she hasn't survived for nothing.

Despite her business attitude to explosives and survival, using a Heavy Flamer takes more than just a clinical attitude, something which she flaunts with glee. A whirlwind of activity and efficiency, her bionic eye spotting targets and giving her vital information, she's a brutal soldier and friendly comrade, no matter the situation.

Greatest Ambition: Not really sure. She's a drifter.

Greatest Hatred: Chaos of any kind, especially Slaneesh. Voyastrans.

Skills:
Like all Cadians, she's a capable soldier with her lasgun, capable of dissasembling, cleaning, reloading and re-buildng her lasgun within two and a half minutes. She is also capable with her boltpistol, and can strip and clean the more complicated mechanism in under five minutes.

Having used her flamers for years, she's very capable with her heavy flamer, and has set the record for disassembling and cleaning out a heavy flamer. Her custom gear also allows her to keep her flamer running for much longer, and she is an expert in the finicky process of reloading.

Her demolitions skills as well have been earned through combat. She is capable of creating explosives with the right materials, and is very capable with fuses and controlled demolitions.
History:
Cadia. The bastion of the Imperium, the fortress against chaos, and a never-ending battleground of guardsmen and women flinging themselves against the forces of chaos in order to hold back daemons and heretics alike. A planet where the recruitment rate and the birth rate are virtually identical, and the children can use a lasgun before they can read.

It is also where the toughest and most respected soldiers in the Imperium short of the Adeptus Astartes themselves are born and bred, including Angel.

A member of the Cadian 132nd division, she left her homeworld at the age of eighteen along with almost fifteen thousand other soldiers who had been assembled at Cadia to counter a chaos uprising on a planet. Upon arriving at the planet, it was found to be a full-scale incursion by Slaneesh, who had corrupted the local Voyastran Firstborns stationed on the planet, and used latent Psykers to open up a number of portals. Despite huge loss of life, the portals were eventually closed almost six years later.

Whilst many were mindwiped by the Inquisition, the Cadian divisions (who are aware of chaos unlike many Imperial citizens,) were deemed safe to continue with the knowledge, with most of the Cadian forces receiving promotions and being distributed to other planets. For Angel, this meant being sent to Vernum with the remaining Cadian 132nd, their training in urban combat being deemed very useful for the ongoing battle.

It was during this battle for Vernum City that she lost her eye, an Ork ambush catching her company off guard. As she was taking off her helmet, a bullet punched through it, the drop in velocity just enough to prevent it from smashing through her skull and killing her outright. Despite this injury, she fought on, killing numerous Orks with her heavy flamer, and eventually leading to her promotion to Standard Bearer.

Miscellaneous:
- Unlike the standard khaki, the Cadian 132nd wear black and grey uniforms for urban camouflage, and are regarded as specialist urban combat troops. Unfortunately, the company has been gutted, and only five or six of the original troopers remain.
- As she left Cadia at the age of 18, she has a child back home, albeit one she has barely seen and will most likely never meet again.

[NecroKnight]

Fixun, Meris

Name: Meris Fixun

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Height and Weight: 5'8", weighing 155 lbs.

Speciality: Medic

Appearance: Upon first glances, Meris looks like your average human. She has short brown hair, gray eyes and a slightly brownish skin-tone, with a more athletic build with more muscle around her legs and arms. This is where the similarities end and her status as a abhuman are more open - her ears, are on the top of her head that are pointed and covered in a brown fur.

Her body is similar to an average human, albeit more covered in fur along the chest, arms and leg area. Her irises are instead slits although they are less visible than expected - only visible when they are stared into, with the addition of also possessing canines.

Her bones are hollow, compared to regular humans - making her more quicker on her feet yet also making her bones more weaker than that of a human. They also possess claws upon their hands and feet, albeit most of them hide it under boots and gloves - utilizing them only in case of being attacked in close-quarters.

Uniform: Meris wears the the Cadian Standard Flak Armor, painted over in a black pattern - signaling her belonging to an abhuman strain and an completely abhuman regiment - in addition to a Cadian Standard helmet, that has two slits upon the top for hearing. She also wears gloves most of the time as did most of her regiment.

Armament: Accatran Pattern Mark II Laspistol, Imperial Medi-Mercy Kit, Standard Guard Kit (laspack, cleaning equipment, Primer, food and meat-heavy food)

Personality/Demeanour: Meris is a rather down-to-earth woman, she isn't as fanatical or zealous as some other Regiments or IGs nor is she suicidal in the face of overwhelming odds. She does her job to the best of her abilities - while trying to keep herself and her team alive. She is rather open and friendly when asked - although she won't initiate contact herself, since her status as an abhuman has kept her mostly related to and in contact with only her own species - and the occasional Commisar or General who visits them.

Like most Felinids, she is practical minded. Making use of what is available for maximum effect - be it scavenging on the field for better equipment, being more indepentant than your average guardsmen and bending the orders, in order to shorten loss of life and/or equipement.

Greatest Ambition: Able to serve and live, to the end of her service and retire back to her homeworld. Or an equally nice and/or more safe planet.

Greatest Hatred: Being called a mutant and compared to some mindless beasts or chaos spawn.

Skills: Meris has been trained as a regular Imperial Guard medic - what she can save, who she can save and when she can save anybody - in addition to the regular Imperial Guard training. As a Felinid, she is also able to walk quadrupedial or on all her four limbs - this enables her to easily move on the battlefield, often times hugging the ground yet moving at the average pace of a guardsman.

Her body is more flexible than an average guardsman, in addition as a Felinid her greatest asset is that, she is able to see more easily in low-light or in darkness.

History:

Meris Fixun had been born into the 'middle class' hiver household - they weren't poor nor were they very wealthy. Both of her parents had a degree in medicine, as such she was learning to be a doctor at a young age already. However, the yearly tithe came along - and consricpts were drawn for their ward, this year around. She was one of the 'lucky' ones, whom got pushed through IG training - scoring at an average, yet her skill in medicine was utilized and she was trained as a battlefield medic.

She and her unit had been the 33rd Nightstalker Regiment - as their name intended, they were specialized in fighting in nighttime operations. However against orks this skillset was severly crippled - there were too many orks to able do engage them, destroying ork supply lines didn't hurt their war-campaign much and ork bases were usually dangerous or more dangerous than fighting them on the battlefield.

Meris had been lucky to participate as a medic, since there were alot of wounded during the fighting - and against orks heavy casualties to all regiments was a distinct normality. As thus, most of her time was spent crawling in the dirt - and pulling wounded men and women, away from the fighting. Meris got separated from her unit during the fighting in the City - being stuck with a Guardsman from another Regiment, whom had sustained heavy injuries. Most of her shooting being done from the window against any orks trying to flank her way. She had ended up with around twelve wounded Guardsmen in her little station, most from other groups by the time, the order to assemble had been given.

Even before the charge on the Capitol, their regiment had been already at half-strength - due to their abhuman status, they were more than once on the receiving end of obstructive commanders whom refused to share supplies or support with their unit. It was into their half-year when their call for fire support was delayed intentionally - and when it finally came, the majority impacted their own position. While the Artillery Commander in-charge of their mis-fire had been executed by a Commisar, the damage had been done already and the 33rd was depleted heavily. After the Capitol charge only a few dozen remained of her unit.

Her Regiment and herself had hailed from the planet of Carlos McConnel or planet CMC, in some circles Their planet' original name had been lost during the Age of Strife - later having been found by a Rouge Trader and the Administratum simply naming the planet, after the man. In addition to their weird planet name, their homeworld itself was slightly different from the rest. It had a weaker magnetic field yet was able to sustain life in a complex cycle - most fauna and flora hid or shielded themselves during the day and foraged/grew during the night.

Most of the humans during that time, lived in a single large Hive City - with several super-large factories constructed during the colonization of the planet. However, when the Age of Strife happened, the planet itself collapsed into civil unrest and anarchy - since most of the resources were brought in, from the outside. The Hive City itself was destroyed and collapsed during that bloody war, alongside the planet' only spaceport - with the remaining survivors retreating into the wilderness. Mostly settling around or inside the mega-factories. Attempts to restart the facilities failed, due to the lack of fuel and resources - however the early-Felinids were able to scavenge blueprints and materials, to survive during the first years. The facilities themselves were built in such a way, that they could resist the bombardment of their sun without compromising their interior - enabling them to sustain life inside them.

Eventually, life settled into such a cycle - the survivors hunting/working during the night and resting during the day - this led to their ability to see in the darkness. They hunted mostly game on the planet, since the flora was too toxic to eat. They grew more fur on their bodies, to combat the coldness during the nights. Their ears migrated to their heads, later on - since despite their ability to construct armor and weaponry, some predators still remained dangerous even with modern weaponry. These beasts having evolved to be almost invisible to the human eye.

When the planet was rediscovered and brought back into the Imperium - there wasn't much hatred nor like. The human settlers had evolved into the Felinids of the current time - they remained human in morals and belief yet abhuman almost beast-like in body.

The Administratum recorded around three sub-species of Felinids during that time - those that appeared human with some beastlike characteristics, those that appeared like humanoid felins and those in the far mountains that had de-evolved into horrid beasts. The first two sub-species could be tolerated and put to use, while the third sub-species was mostly exterminated.

The Felinids during that time were organized into Nightstalker regiments - since they proved to be effective in nighttime operations or planets with a long night cycle. They were few regiments then, since their abhuman strain was only constricted to their planet.

The Felinids didn't have much conflict with the Imperium, since they were mostly divided and spread out into many groups. After the Imperium restored their destroyed Hive City did the settlements reconnect - the mega-facilities were restored and turned towards constructing arms for the new IG Regiment, a few being salvaged to repair others with old knowledge recovered by the Adeptus Mechanicus.

With the rise of the Ecclesiarchy and decay of the Imperium - their Regiments shrank in size, with only the more human sub-species accepted into the Imperial Guard ranks. And even then, they are mostly used as simply soldiers due to their abhuman status.

Miscellaneous: In addition to being a medic, she has often times been sent to scavenge for equipment on the field - since she has a knack for being able to move silently and lowly.

[Andreyich]

Name: John Cecil Feeney

Age: 41

Gender: Male

Height and weight: 6'6, 240 pounds.

Specialty: He is a member of the Frateris militia and as such has no official specialization, though he along with other members of the Militia are classified as shock troops.

Appearance: He is quite tall (6'6 as said earlier) and of bulky - not fat, nor muscular - build. He has prominent features, extremely thick stubble though not quite a beard, along with long (though not hanging off of his head) straight black hair. His eyes are an ordinary brown colour, and he is covered in scars, some self-inflicted, others not, many of which shaped like Aquilas and such.

Uniform: He wears very thick leather gear to at least somewhat deal with the Ork burnaz. His armour however, is a series of mostly plasteel and ceramite (though a few rockcrete, adamantium and plascrete ones too) plates banged, welded or otherwise brought together to create a full suit of primitively designed armour that takes nearly an hour to get in or out of. While very primitive in design, many dents in it are proof of it's effectiveness. Over it is a bandolier of various injections of combat drugs and ammunition for his weapon(s) and a basic gas-mask used in his homeworld's factory.

Armament: a hack shotgun, one very large mono-knife, his home-made armour, a heavy stubber, and a demolition charge attached to his back for a spectacular suicide.

Personality: while he used to be a calm and reserved man, all of that disappeared along with his old life. He is now a maddened fanatic ripping apart enemies with his bare hands, and hates the slightest of impurities, the slightest of transgressions against man, often blasting mere rats with two tails or cockroaches with extra legs with his guns.

Greatest Ambition: To exterminate any and all threats to the Imperium.

Greatest Hatred: enemies of mankind.

Skills: while he used to be a great leader of nearly anyone, his recent changes in becoming a Frateris Militia member have made him only good at leading other members of the Militia. He is absolutely fearless however, and after many battles and out of combat self-training has become the best fighter someone in his position possibly could be, reloading his weapons in less than a second, and even beating Nobs in single combat (of course, assuming he has some sort of advantage like a surprise attack, or them not having any armour).

Bio/History:

A native of Vernum Primas, he was brought up rather peacefully in the hive, his parents doing well for themselves and thus his child. His father was an aide to the Governor, while his mother a clerk for him/her. He was a big kid and loved playing "Guardsman," both the Guardsman and whoever the loser was, so long as the Guardsman always beat the enemy. He was always a very devout, organized and obedient child, listening to teachers, parents and authority, whilst retaining many friends in a place as unforgiving as a hive-world. When he finally became of age to work, he became an overseer of a factory, and while he did get it by being related to important people, he did deserve it, treating his workers fairly and handling crises expertly.

His life was quite uneventful, until his skills gained the attention of the governor him/herself. He was about to be promoted to aide of the governor soon for his outstanding work. Excited as ever having new means to serve the undying Lord, he prepared himself. However, on the same day that he was to be promoted, the Greenskins came. The announcement was horrible, people dying and being ripped apart one by one. Being high-born, he was one of the few evacuated. However, when he saw the world he came to call home in flames, a great, unimaginable anger overtook him. The drums of war began beating in his head, the sound of blood-curdling screams, of bullets flying, of lasguns hissing, of men and women losing their lives. He instantly joined the Frateris Militia being organized, and while his somewhat fat body and desk job proved an impediment, he quickly overcame it with the help of his sheer zeal.

Now he fights the Ork menace, longing for victory, which he knows will come. One by one he rids the world of the Ork menace, advancing fearlessly through attacks brought upon him by the enemy, singing songs and laughing as he mows down the enemy be it with knife, bullet or laser. So long as he draws breath, they will die, and even then, he would commit and honourable suicide with his explosives.

Miscellanous: His armour (and I suppose heavy-stubber) look like this

[Lmpwrkr]

Name: Sallius Rust

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Height and Weight: 6'0" and 120 lbs

Speciality: Rifleman, Scout

Appearance: War has taken it's toll on Sall's body- permanently destroying much that was once young and healthy, transforming him into a underweight and sickly individual that has yet to fully recover. From the neck down his skin is discolored with 'pools' of infected flesh long since contained by medication, the texture rough like dried blood, yet the dead skin is permanently latched on him. Other blemishes scar his body such as odd black spots, or dirt-like substances that remain irremovable. The lungs are also damaged, with him regularly coughing, having breathed in plenty of toxic chemicals in his service. And despite only being in his early twenties, Sallius may look much older thanks to the stress of combat, as if in his late thirties. The head is bald due to constant shaving, with no facial hair either, face is also much more tan than the rest of his body as its the only part exposed to sunlight at all times.

While recovering from all the weight loss of being in battle (thanks to actual hygienic and well supplied conditions) the outline of bones can be seen if Sallius twists or moves his body in a way that flexes the muscles. He may also walked a little hunched over from time to time, though this is often combated with a him trying to maintain a upright posture.

Uniform: Sallius wears thick mud green military fatigues; a shirt that doubles as a winter jacket and baggy pants, black boots with tan gaiters wrapped around the ankles and the cuffs of the pants tucked into the gaiters. Leathery gloves around the hands, a wool scarf around the neck and a trench coat worn over all that, dark brown harness with ammo pouches and grenades cling to it, and suspenders of the harness around the shoulders. Actual armor is a mere flack jacket and helmet.

When the demands are made for the guardsmen to be mobile, Sallius also wears a backpack with a rolled-up sleeping bag at the top, and an 9-70 Entrenching Tool folded up and attached to the bag.

A very important note of Sallius's behavior with clothing is that he very rarely exposes any of his skin, aside from the face. While fate may demand him to wear less or acknowledge his skin's poor condition, he will otherwise wear as much layers of clothing as possible, even when the weather is fairly warm. The wool scarf is known to never come off either as it makes for a very fitting hood in all conditions, which he enjoys wearing.

Armament: Semi-automatic lasrifle, frag grenades, bayonet and a 9-70 Entrenching Tool

Personality/Demeanour: Witnessing entire armies roll across a planet, or a horde of fervent barbaric creatures tear apart your allies. Both cause an equal amount of adrenaline to pulse through the body, Sallius has seen both plenty of times in his years of service now, mind having been broken and repaired long ago. Now becoming servitor-like in behavior Sallius is never angry, nor is he loud outside of combat, thoughts and motivations having become cold logic rather than bristling emotion. Talks can be awkward for anyone with the slightest hint of humanity in them as Sallius provides little in the ways of actual discussion, seeming uncannily human, to be breathing but not truly alive.

Greatest Ambition: Seeing worlds, fighting enemies, understanding more. There is no specific desire, only broad strokes that serve as goals.

Greatest Hatred: Thanks the war breaking apart his mind and turning Sallius into something quite distant of being human, its hard to say if he truly hates or likes anything. However, given he is a loyal servant of the Emperor and unquestioningly 'happy' with the genocide of xenos and heretics, its safe to assume those two categories are the closest to what he dislikes.

Skills: Calm in mind, lightweight and experienced with a lasrifle, Sallius has come to be a fine scout despite his body teetering on complete decay.

History:
Foruz, a civilized world sitting in the midst of Imperial territory, far from the realm of any xenos empire and unrelated to the machinations of the Chaos Gods. Its continents are filled to the brim with wildlife and vegetation, with cities dotting the coasts of these continents sparsely. Sallius was one of the many born in these cities, and would briefly experience the pleasant life of being on a world without war and capable of being self sustaining. Plentiful food, a hard working people, stable infrastructure and working technology, the planet would no doubt would be able to pay off any tithe the Imperium could offer. And it did! Despite the many millenia of Foruz's existence, food and materials fittingly covered each tithe.

However, over the years as Sallius grew older, Foruz's sector would be tossed into war- though the planet's people knew little of what danger was out there -the tithes became more demanding. At first, food production increased, with the population now given rations as the governor did his best to explain the situation. Then factories were being built instead of apartments or houses for the growing population, following with the economy struggling as the planet only prepared for wars that were occurring far from the planet.

And then, the long list of things required for the most recent tithe brought dread- able bodied men and women must be conscripted for the Imperial Guard.

In the span of a single night the eighteen year old Sallius's life went from the hard work of a civilian to the training of a soldier, rushed from his home to a recently built training facility deep within the forests. Six months they would spend there, training covering varying demands of their regiment. Light infantry, the two words that became so thoroughly covered every day the conscripts woke. the 1st Foruz Light Infantry Regiment, the unit which 3000 souls belonged to. Indoctrination, physical conditioning, communication protocols and survival techniques were put through their minds as much as their regiment's name.

At the end of the sixth month would the transport arrive, a massive vessel which the conscripts were sent off to, hastily given gear that was manufactured just on time for the unit's departure. Once aboard, their introduction to the Imperium as a whole and what it meant to be a guardsman began with lasrifles in their hands, another month spent in comprehension and listening, as well as coping with their situation of never seeing home again. As their shipboard training came to a close so did the trip, with their transport vessel leaving the warp and joining an armada of vessels that have been carving their way towards Vernum Primas. The war had been going on for fifteen years when the regiment originally arrived.

It would take five more years for the Orks to be defeated, with the 1st Foruzian Light Infantry Regiment serving side by side with fellow humans from all across the Imperium. In the first year alone the Foruzians lost much of their equipment and soldiers, and within the second year they were beyond recovery, by the time the war had reached Capitol only a few hundred Foruzians remained, fervently fighting to survive between the suicidal demands of their superiors and the brutality of the Orks.

The few remaining, exhausted and covered in scars, prepare themselves as they're ordered to the fields. Sallius in all his emptiness follows along as ordered with his comrades beside him. Those with even the slightest hint of life behind their eyes silently plead for the right to settle down on this world or another, but Sallius maintains his upright posture of looking forward with still eyes, mind long gone from pleading for life to stop. Him and those like him know the truth, their war will never stop until "they" are all dead- whether "they" is humanity or the xenos and heretics so venomously fought.

Miscellaneous: Rank presently stands as a Corporal.
When the medical equipment is in surplus and Sallius is around, ointments for skin rashes are known to disappear, as well as coughing pills.
He is also a avid reader, and while quick to 'find' (looting from the ruins of a library) a good novel, he is just as quick to discard it once finished.

[Rultaos]

Marcus "Mudfish" Gruber of the 344th Cyrothaxian Flashflooders

Name: Marcus “Mudfish” Gruber
Age: 31
Gender: Male (sex is also male)
Height and weight: 6'0 and weighs 160 lbs

Appearance: A well-built, and slightly short man (both caused by carrying his gear and spare drum power packs) with crew-cut dark red hair. He has a thin red beard growing around his mouth which he cuts every now and then to keep it comfortable within his helmet.

Specialization: Close Quarter Combat (specifically Urban fighting and Trench warfare), breaching and clearing fortified structures.

Uniform: Imperial Flak Armor with the “Flashflooders” insignia on the left shoulder plate (A golden human skull within a patch of water shaped like a kite shield). Also wears a Krak Grenade bandolier on the front, along with harnesses to secure the backpack carrying his drum magazines in the back. When in combat, his face is usually concealed by his fully-covered helmet that comes with a rebreather for traversing through the filthiest environments.

Armament: Merovech Model 481 "Persuader" Lasgun with drum magazines. Krak Grenades (usually carries a bandolier of 4), Melta Bombs (only allowed to carry one at a time. Saved for hostile armor units and heavy troopers). 9-70 entrenching tool, and their standard-issue bayonet knife.

Personality/Demeanor: Marcus is a generally cheerful man with a morbid sense of humor. His time in the Imperial Guard has been filled with violence and despair, and has forced him to treat death, dismemberment, and agony as an occupational hazard. He’s known to make jokes at inappropriate times (such as scaring a squadmate by jumping around a corner with an Ork head as a mask, or asking someone if they wanted a souvenir as they toss a bloodied bone of unknown origins in their general direction.). His optimistic and joking attitude is mainly a coping mechanism for him; a way to channel the stress of battle so that he does not lose his mind. He, much like the other members of the Flashflooders, have no qualms with marching through the dirtiest and most repulsive areas to reach their objective. Unlike the other members however, Marcus is not as diligent in cleaning his armor after missions which often leaves him walking around their camp, covered in blood, mud, and guts, which got him the nickname “Mudfish”. Despite all this however, Marcus tries his best to protect his comrades. Though, he has also come to accept that in the course of battle, many will give their lives in the service of the God-Emperor, and that he should not waste tears nor time over them, as their deaths will have been in vain if the fight is not finished.

When it comes to non-human creatures, he does not necessarily share the same xenophobia of most humans. Having lived in a hive world with barely any natural ecosystem to speak of, Marcus has always been fascinated by both the flora and fauna of different worlds during his tour of duty, wanting to see how they function and poking them for reactions (with mixed results depending on the planet). He is wary of abhumans (especially those comparable to Chaos Daemons) but he does not invalidate their service or loyalty to the Imperium if it truly is there. The way he sees it, if they’re all fighting the same enemy, looks doesn’t matter, only skill, loyalty, and the will to emerge victorious as a unit does. What he will never forgive however are traitors, or those who abandon their duty to save themselves. He sees deserters as people who are willing to let others suffer.

Greatest Ambition: To survive his tour, finish his duty to the Imperium and God-Emperor, and retire somewhere he can observe a planet’s flora and fauna in relative peace.

Greatest Hatred: Traitors, Cowards, Heretics. Believes that anyone who abandons their duty to the Imperium is essentially condemning everyone to the threats and enemies of the Imperium, and thus are selfish and deserve no mercy (as they did not have the mercy to help the people they are supposed to defend).

Skills: Having spent time in the Flashflooders Regiment as a user of the “Persuader” Lasgun, he has become accustomed to travelling and fighting with the heavy backpack carrying all of his spare drum magazines making his endurance relatively high. All the fights he has been in within the confines of bunkers, cities, and trenches have made him highly alert and able to quickly perceive and react to both threats and new information. As a Lasgunner behind the lines of both bayonet walls and Flamer lines, he is adept at spotting targets in the chaos of battle, either calling attention to them or gunning them down depending on the situation. He has a general knowledge of human structures and fortifications, which allows him to know a good variety of structural weaknesses that can be exploited for the purposes of breaching. Though his armor isn’t always cleaned, he makes sure to always maintain his weapons and equipment to at least be reliable on a practical level, as he has seen from others how malfunctioning weapons cost lives.

History: Marcus was born into a lower middle-class family on the Hive World of Cyrothax where he and his brother and sister learned from an early age that they need to stand up for themselves if they want to survive. It was his mother that taught him “conformity to the Administratum keeps you in the God-Emperor’s good graces, but it will not keep you alive”. Both his mother and father were factory workers within the Hive and also doubled as trained civilian militia in the event of a crisis, which afforded them a few extra luxuries such as enough food to keep the family healthy.

As a child Marcus had read about other worlds and colonies from the few pieces of literature that he came across. He was fascinated by the ecosystems described on other planets which contrasted greatly with the polluted and industrialized Hive World which he lived on. He hoped to one day have a chance to see worlds apart from his own.

Because of the dangerous nature of the Hive levels on which they lived, Marcus and his siblings became adept at how to fight with both hands and weapons in their adolescent phase. Marcus found this useful on many occasions whenever gangs would try to bully his siblings for money (and other times, sexual favors, which greatly angered Marcus). However, the three siblings were more than a match for petty gangs, and were smart enough to stay out of the way of the bigger and more organized ones.

It was during his young adult years that calamity struck as their world became the victim of an Ork WAAAGH! That passed into their system, destroying outposts on a nearby planet and prompted their local government to prepare everyone for imminent invasion, mobilizing both the Planetary Defense Force and civilian militia. The WAAGH decimated at least 2 hives and were in the process of besieging Marcus’ home Hive by the time the Astra Militarum and a nearby chapter of the Adeptus Astartes arrived to relieve the local forces. Marcus and his siblings were evacuated to a sheltered area of their Hive, but their mother was killed in the fighting as the militia held the Orks off as the people escaped, and the loss of local life was staggering. Life was not the same for the family afterwards, with their father becoming distant and almost robotic after witnessing their mother’s death. Their home was destroyed and they had to make do in the slums of their hive level (as all the local resources were being pooled into reconstructing vital facilities in the wake of the WAAGH). His brother became resentful and rebellious while his sister had to act as their caretaker in their mother’s absence.

Witnessing this struggle firsthand, Marcus realized how fragile their way of life was, and survival was not just about protecting your own from the dangers of the planet. He signed on for the Imperial Guard so that he can offer his blood and sweat for the Imperium in the hopes that his efforts can help stop countless others from experiencing their tragedy.

His training years were grueling, but Marcus’ ability to handle high stress managed to land him in the 344th Cyrothaxians Regiment, nicknamed the “Flashflooders”. They were a regiment that specialized in urban combat and fighting in close quarter environments in order to “flood” the enemy and flush them out. Chimeras and Valkyrie transports were used mainly as a means to insert their forces into hot-zones and past exterior defenses. They have very little armor and air support, but what little they do have is geared to be most effective in confined spaces, and their training drills reflect that doctrine. Marcus specialized as a close-quarters Lasgunner, usually staying behind the ones who fought with the Flamers and Bayonets to cover them from enemies. The Lasgun firing line would shoot down anything out of range of those on the frontline, or at least soften them up.

The Flashflooders were sent off-world as part of the Imperial tithe, and were sent to both other hive worlds and places where environments made traditional armor columns were less effective than infantry (such as heavily forested planets or places with rocky cliffs and mountains). Marcus made use of his free time on other planets by trying to learn about what exotic life lived there, and it helped keep his mind off the difficulty of both travel and battle. While they fought their fair share of the Emperor’s enemies, they never fought in a full-blown war like the fight for the Vernum system

The 344th was deployed alongside other Cyrothaxian regiments there to aid in the crusade due to their specialization in close quarter fighting. Throughout the 20-year war, the Cyrothaxians aided the Imperial force by pushing into fortified Ork zones and occupied cities (some softened up by the efforts of the Astartes) in order to flush out those hiding in buildings, bunkers, and trenches to leave them at the mercy of the endless armor columns and Artillery barrages of the Imperial Guard. Orks were never one to retreat however, and it took extremely high amounts of firepower and Imperial lives to push them out of their holes. Entire Regiments were wiped out throughout the campaign, and by the time the Imperial Guard began the siege of the capital city, the 344th was one of the 3 Cyrothaxian regiments still standing.

Their role in the fight against the capital was to secure and expand the trench line outside the city as a staging area for the assault. Afterwards, they would push into vital facilities in the outer areas of the city and secure them. One of the Cyrothaxian regiments were wiped out in clearing the trenches, falling to both the Ork cannons and Dakkas protecting the city and the endless amount of Greenskins that held the trenches.

The 344th and the 298th Cyrothaxians suffered heavy losses, but continued to push into the urban centers. They assisted the Imperial Guard in taking weapon factories to cut off the Ork supply of weapons. These areas were fiercely defended by the Orks and the Flamer/bayonet lines on the front had to be constantly replaced, and there were times where they could not replace the frontline fast enough, and this took a toll on the heavy gunners and infantry in the rear. While they managed to emerge victorious in securing the munitions buildings, the 298th was completely decimated, and the 344th Flashflooders were reduced to mere squads.

Marcus’ hands went numb from how long he had to sustain fire against the Orks in the fight for the trenches and the city. Many times he thought his moment of death was coming, be it from the Orks or the harsh environment of war itself, yet he was among the survivors. But the victory was bittersweet, as thousands of his comrades were lost in the fighting. Now he gathers with the few remaining members and vehicles of the Flashflooders outside Vernum Primas for their “victory” parade.

“I guess a victory for The Imperium isn’t always a victory for us fightin’ on the soil. But hey, that’s what we signed up for. We take on the horrors so that others won’t have to”

Miscellaneous: If the area stinks, Marcus probably lives nearby.

[iTem]

Persephone Ignatz

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Name: Persephone “Brimstone” Ignatz

Age: 27

Gender: Agender

Height and Weight: 5’8 ft / 55.3 kg (122 lbs)

Speciality: Sniper

Appearance:
Persephone is a female born Mediterranean (olive skinned) with gunmetal grey eyes, thick straight eyebrows, and wavy strawberry colored hair that had been shaved on the back and sides. What is left would reach their chin and habitually placed on the right side of their face. Their figure and features do not strongly resemble any feminine features (obvious breasts, wide hips) but it does not appear too masculine either (accentuated pectoral or abdominal muscles). This makes them androgynous enough that it is hard for most to determine their sex through physical observation.
Their body is littered with various scars and cuts that vary in depth and length. A few of their notable traits that they had acquired from the battle in the Vernum Sector would be a deep scar that runs horizontally just under their right eye to their chin, and their bionic right arm that starts from their shoulder.
Generally, their exceptional hygiene and their need for order make them appear very well-kept and sharp despite constantly appearing bored.

Uniform: Worn out flak armor with her regiment’s insignia on it. The right shoulder pad is missing and there is also an indentation on her helmet aligned with the scar on the right side of her face that goes down until the upper right portion of her chest plate.

Armament: A long-las sniper rifle, their Hija (\i-hᴧ\), two frag grenades, one set of guard-issue medical supplies, 9-70 Entrenching tool, gas mask, and the ever present Imperial Infantryman’s Uplifting Primer.

Personality/Demeanor:
Persephone’s actions appear lax: from the courteous nod, to the attentive stare. Though, her staring tends to go a little awry when people realize that they had been staring at them for far too long. Usually it is because they were staring at them, on other times it would usually mean that they are simply reminiscing the lessons that life taught to them through blood and loss. While they do not usually start conversations, they would sometimes approach people that interest them (through various ways). They would also respond in kind if spoken to. Persephone tends to be quite frank as it is a custom in their planet to refrain from keeping opinions, comments, or praises because a person’s life can end in any day. Persephone also prefers conformity over individuality because they believe that excessive individuality is narcissism at its worst, especially if conformity is required to save the lives of the many. As a death world native, they had also learned to separate emotions with work, lest they die from an error or emotional trauma. However, this does not mean that they are an isolationist. They find comfort within groups but prefers to stay out of the limelight.

Greatest Ambition: At the moment, survive long enough to maybe have a family that they can take to a forge world.

Greatest Hatred: Others faltering in battle when standing one’s ground is necessary.

Skills:
Has moderately good medical skills learned as a necessity on her homeworld (“Settler’s Bane”). They have impressive skills with using both Laser and Ballistic sniper rifles, hitting her targets 87% of the time (also a necessity of their homeworld). They do not falter as easily as most humans due to the harsh environment they grew up in, where calm behavior was needed in order to survive. They are also a generally organized and hygienic person, to the point of it being a mild obsession

History:

Planet’s History

They were born on a Death World named by the Imperium as “Settler’s Bane” due to the harsh nature of the planet where nearly everything is a hazard (from the local wildlife to the Arsenic-laced water supply). The planet is mainly covered in sandy desert, active volcanoes (and the barren lands that surround them), littered with patches of ionic storms (which makes aerial travel difficult), multiple mountain and plateau formations, and variously sized oases surrounded by small jungles.

The planet is inhabited with differing tribes and clans that have their own settlements on plateaus, mountains, and oases. Plateau and mountain settlements are usually known as supply drop zones and supply export zone in the planet while those living in oases are harvesters who are tasked with gathering the planet’s raw materials for export.

The most famous location on the planet (amongst locals) is what the locals fondly call as the “Palace of Whispers”. This is a 15 story mega-building where Guardsmen are recruited and trained. The reason for this is because the Palace has been settled on the largest oasis within the planet (spanning almost two hectares) and had been purposed as recruitment and training for initiates. This, however, does not mean that the Guardsmen initiates training are supposed to be kept safe. Heading to the location itself is deadly when they need to traverse the canopy with relative silence or avoiding predators, and more so with the training that the initiates are required to go through as a requirement for Guardsmanship (i.e. tracking and hunting sliders, surviving in different oases without the safety of sturdy buildings in a set amount of time, muffling one’s movements to avoid fauna aggression, etc). They will eventually get shipped out to another designated “drop-off zone” if they are to be shipped off world for the transport vehicle’s safety.

The planet’s history goes back approximately 2000 years ago when an Imperial ship was trying to avoid a large ionic storm within the sector. The storm eventually got worse and they had to seek refuge in the planet that would eventually be called “Settler’s Bane”. The Imperials thought that they had found a potentially habitable planet (sans the aggressive animals that originally lived there) and started to colonize the planet by sending settlers. The settlers immediately found out that the original creatures that resided in the planet were gigantic as a result of the planet’s increased oxygen levels. The most prominent predator of the SeB (a local term for the planet) is what they refer to as the “Sand Slider” or a “Slider” for short. It is a gigantic centipede-like creature that feeds on the majority of the planet’s wildlife. The Slider possessed a thick carapace that defended it against numerous types of Imperial weaponry. The creature’s main weaknesses were the small bits of exposed flesh in between its carapace, and its blindness that limits it to sensing prey through vibrations in the air (sound), and through the sands. The locals discovered that the best way to evade the Sand Slider was to remain completely quiet and avoid disturbing the sands too much. IF this could not be done, then they would attempt to distract the creature by throwing objects into other directions.
Others creatures in the SeB would be a Dragliks, a reptilian large, lizard-like creatures who has necrotizing saliva, are nearsighted, and have a tendency to drag prey back to their dens before devouring them; and the Aribours, a creature almost akin to giant Vultures with bald heads. They feed on large Gecko-like creatures and are usually seen near volcanoes (they live long, hence mate later in life and only produce one chick at a time) but are a fairly rare sight.

Eventually the settlers forced into the planet created what would be called as the Palace of Whispers. The building’s name was derived from its structure and purpose: to dampen sound from the inside of the structure without compromising the noises coming from the outside. This effectively made the locals and the Palace almost invisible to the creatures that roam the sands and the oasis that they stand in.

In order for the planet’s inhabitants to acquire additional resources outside of the areas they could reach on the surface, certain Imperial cities have landing zones that has been designated as drop-off points for supplies, and also for the export of their annual tithe of manpower for the Imperial war machine along with some luxury goods of exotic plant fabrics and dyes used as raw materials. In earlier times, transports had attempted to land close to, or by oases in order to directly take in the new recruits. However, the loud noises and vibrations coming from the transports attracted the attention of the local Sand Sliders, which attacked the transports by snatching them out of the air, and also endangering the buildings or the people nearby by attracting several other creatures. Landing zones were set up on cities living on mountains or plateaus, whose mineral and stone deposits were dense enough to stop Sand Sliders from tunneling through. Locals living in oases had to assign people who would act as “runners” to take or deliver supplies from the landing zones, while snipers were used to protect both their runners and exports.

The planet’s resources had interesting effects on the locals made them medical anomalies. The most notable anomaly would stem from the planet’s water supply that is laced with 60 times the lethal dosage of the poison arsenic. Because the locals (especially those living in oases in fear of having creatures hear the loud humming of purification plants) have no choice but to drink the poison-laced waters, they eventually built up immunity to it. The locals are also known to be fast but quiet ghosts that had learned to walk and move in relative silence as a defense mechanism to the creatures that thrive within and without the oasis.

Persephone - Childhood

As a child, Persephone was born as the only daughter in the Ignatz family. Due to the harsh nature of the planet and them living as harvesters in an oasis, the community itself is incapable of caring for too many children at one time. Every member of their community is expected to be able to show usefulness from an early age, because they cannot afford to waste what little resources they have on those who will not contribute. Her mother was one of their main runners, while her father acted as a lookout and a sniper.

Persephone’s parents were emotionally distant by most people’s standards, however, they showed their affection for her in other ways, such as ensuring that they never got too hungry and teaching her how to use a ballistic rifle and basic marksmanship in a very early age. Aside from these, they made certain that they would be instilled with all of the necessary skills needed to survive on their planet (foraging, hiding from predators, hunting prey, etc.)

During what was supposed to be a routine supply run, an ionic storm had unexpectedly drifted close to their atmosphere, causing lightning strikes all around the route between the city and the landing zone. Persephone’s mother was one of the three Runners caught during the storm, which caused so many vibrations in the air that an entire swarm of newly hatched Sand Sliders emerged from the sands due to the overstimulation. The hatchlings proceeded to jump out of sand and attacked the nearest source of food, which were the Runners. The snipers from the city tried to cover them, however, the lightning strikes and rumbling thunder made aiming difficult, and also caused the Sliders to behave unexpectedly as they would sometimes follow the lightning strikes and break off from their original direction. Her mother and one of the other runners were presumably killed as hatchlings bit onto them en masse and dragged them screaming under the sands. One runner managed to make it back to the city, with the severed head of a hatchling still biting onto their leg, and delivered portion of the supplies, though they died from their injuries soon after due to the venomous nature of the Slider’s bite.

Persephone’s father was traumatized by the incident, and all but refused to resume his post as a sniper for a while afterwards. Persephone volunteered to temporarily take his place at the age of 14. It was here that they honed and displayed their skills in marksmanship with the rest of their community.

Eventually, their father resumed his post after a year and Persephone was then assigned to harvest the fabric produced from the jungle around the oasis. Persephone however, still had not mastered the discipline of remaining quiet while performing their duties, and during one of her harvest runs a year after they had been assigned, they attracted the attention of a group of Dragliks who stalked them from a distance for a while.

Their father was on lookout during the time, and managed to spot the Dragliks closing in on Persephone as they made their signature clicking noises to attract more of them for the hunt. Her father quickly notified the other lookouts before moving in to try and save her (as sniping them from a distance would only prompt them to attack her immediately out of impulse). He closed the distance between himself and the Dragliks, before firing at them and drawing their attention to him with gunfire as he shouted at Persephone to return to the city. The other lookouts tried to cover Persephone and her father, but could not stop the large pack of Dragliks that had formed, and Persephone’s father was soon taken away from them much like their mother, with their screams growing faint into the distance.

Having their mother die due to the hazards of the planet was one thing, but having their father die to protect them was another thing entirely. Their once generally cheerful demeanor changed into something more serious and distant as they vowed to make sure that his sacrifice meant something to their people. At the age of 17, they would go through their tribe’s rite of passage, a year earlier than most of them due to how early they showed their skills.

Their rite of passage involves airlifting the batch of adolescents to the top of a known Sand Slider’s lair named ”Dolorosa” (“Lady of Sorrows”), and their goal is to enter through the top, and make it to the small cave entrance alive. They are given nothing but a flashlight, 5 days’ worth of rations, and an unmodified “Hija”. The ritual served two purposes: One is to make sure that their adults are strong and capable individuals who can survive the harsh creatures of their planet or to survive their eventual deployment as guardsmen. Two, is to keep ”Dolorosa” docile with regular sacrifices from those who cannot make it.

Persephone went in with a group of 6 other adolescents, and emerged only with 2 others by the end of the trial after 6 days, even carrying one of Dolorosa’s legs as a trophy. For many locals, the rite of passage is a traumatizing event that they would rather not revisit, and Persephone’s case is no different.

In the same year after completing her rite of passage, they immediately enlisted for the Imperial Guard (as their planet could only provide a small number of people for their annual tithes) and was shipped off-world with a batch of fresh and resilient Guardsmen to the 3rd Regiment of Settler’s Bane Wisps as reinforcements for the ongoing crusade for the Vernum Sector.

Battle on Vernum

The 3rd Wisps Regiment is a Light Infantry Regiment that specialized in sniping and scouting, and mainly played the role of information gathering for both The Guard and the Astartes as a prelude to their offensive strikes. At times, they would also be called upon to provide accurate fields of fire over long distances to whittle down the Ork hordes before getting within range of standard Lasguns and bayonets.

It was during the campaign that they first encountered one of the Imperium’s many enemies, which were the Orks. Throughout the campaign, they came to believe that the Orks were nothing more than animals, intelligent animals, that were capable of using weapons and rudimentary tactics. But as animals are, they remain generally predictable.

Her regiment only experienced close quarters fighting during the final siege of Vernum Primas, 10 years and thousands of casualties later. Her regiment had been assigned to provide covering fire for the Cyrothaxian Regiments as they pushed into the munitions section of the city. During the attack, the frontlines had been broken, allowing the Orks to swarm into the snipers and gunners in the rear. It was at this time that Persephone had finally came face-to-face with an actual living Ork as they had usually seen them through their scope. To them, the creature was intimidating but their survival instincts were stronger. This reminded them of their fight with Dolorosa, and they intended for this one to end the same. The fear was numbing, but the rush of adrenaline revived her spirit. With her Hija in hand, they tried to grapple with the Ork with the same will to survive. However, they do not have the strength to go toe-to-toe with an Ork. This mistake cost her an arm, and very nearly: her life. The only reason they survived was due to the incoming reinforcements and replenishment for the front lines which managed to push the Orks back after the regiments had regrouped. With her vision going to black, the last thing they would remember at that time would be the sensation of being dragged away.

Miscellaneous:

• They sometimes speak in third person and refer to themselves as they. This is because their planet does not have distinct gender roles.
• Unless they are going to be deployed, Persephone usually walks around camp with a bracelet with a bell as a sentiment and good luck. Otherwise it stays in one of her pockets for safekeeping.
• Persephone tends to talk to themselves.
• Their nickname “Brimstone” comes from the fact that they tend to smell strongly sterile (think hospital) because they usually have “brandy baths” if they believe that they are very dirty. This is achieved by a moonshine recipe that came from their father.

[Hank]

Commissar Ismael Castor

Name: Ismael Castor, once known as the Silence.

Age: 57.

Gender: Male.

Height and Weight: 6'2", 220lbs.

Speciality: Commissar.

Appearance: Castor looks exactly like what you'd expect a Commissar to look like. Gruff and severe, with deep-set eyes, trimmed black-and-silver hair and a rough face that looks like it was hewn from stone, sporting five o'clock shadow at all times of day. Decades of war have made him strong with not the slightest bit of fat on him, sculpting Castor into a broad-shouldered, forceful presence. Even so, Castor's appearance has a warmer side to it, as his eyes can twinkle with merriment and his lopsided grin can inspire humor in even the most grim of circumstances.

He is perpetually dressed in the traditional Commissar's garb, his face cast in shade by the Commissar's cap, though he has personalized his appearance with an enormous, high-collared greatcoat of black fabric, now full of bullet holes, that has the Imperial Aquila resplendent behind a skull embroidered on the back of the cape in gold stitching. Commissar Castor himself will tell anyone he firmly believes it makes him look regal while your average Guardsman will tell you it looks awfully pompous, but -- as is typical of the Commissar -- he's in on the joke.

Uniform: The aforementioned Commissar's garb (black and red with gold trimmings, like all such uniforms) and splendid greatcoat. Castor wears a thin, form-fitting version of flak armor beneath his vest to provide a modicum of protection but he is otherwise unarmored, like most Commissars.

Armament: Castor doesn't really believe in standing behind his soldiers and waiting for one to run away so he can shoot them in the head and goes into battle with unusually heavy armament as far as Commissars go.

- 1x Lascarbine with folding stock and iron sights. Can be folded up and strapped to Castor's torso for easy storage.
- 1x Plasma pistol strapped to his left thigh. This is his CQB backup and his executioner's weapon -- a little more elegant than a bolt pistol.
- 1x Chainsword sheathed diagonally over his back, the grip protruding from beneath his greatcoat, so that his right hand can easily reach for it. Can be dual-wielded with the plasma pistol or with both hands if the situation gets especially messy.
- 6x ammunition for his weapons carried in pouches hooked to his belt; 4x lascarbine power-packs and 2x plasma charges for the pistol.

Personality/Demeanour: Commissar Castor is... well, a Commissar. His job description requires him to be stern and merciless with the troops if the line threatens to break and uplifting and empowering when pressing the advantage. While Castor is very good at both, his long tenure in the Imperial Guard has softened him up a bit. He's seen the horrors and the random, indifferent nature of war and understands a soldier's fear all too well. Castor tries instead to be the Guardsman's best friend, singing songs, cracking jokes and sharing brazen words of encouragement while he leads by example, diving into the fray elbow-to-elbow with the men, his own fear of death long ago put to rest. Castor knows it's important to strike a balance between stern and kind, however, as the troops can't be allowed to see him as too soft, but Castor will avoid severe punishment unless absolutely necessary. He no longer wishes to be feared; fear eventually turns into hatred and he knows that can be bad for his health.

Castor has seen plenty of war and death and isn't fazed by its horrors anymore. He went through a dark period of doubt and cynicism, wondering what the hell all of it was for, but came out of it a stronger man with iron resolve. Castor knows what they're fighting for and that, even though they are only one cog in an enormous machine, they cannot fail. Castor does not allow it in himself and he does not allow it in his men and he will go to great length to keep up their spirits so that they may succeed in their objective, whatever that may be at the time.

Greatest Ambition: To gain command over a Regiment as a Colonel-Commissar.

Greatest Hatred: Incorrigible cowardice, unnecessary cruelty, goddamn Orks, perfume.

Skills: As a Commissar, Castor's most important skills are projecting an inspiring presence, lifting morale, enforcing authority and, if necessary, rendering fatal judgement. He achieves most of this with words -- especially gallows humor and unbreakable optimism -- and will only resort to his plasma pistol when all else fails.

When it comes to combat, decades of experience have turned Castor into a dangerous warrior. His skills with the rifle, the pistol and the chainsword are all respectable and he knows how to tactically direct squads or platoons whenever gaps in the chain of command need to be filled in the cacophony of war. Castor has no other specialist skills and leaves the use of flamers, bombs, vox-casters and other technology to the lads and lasses who like to tinker with that kind of stuff.

Castor is a reasonably good regicide player and boasts a remarkable tolerance for alcohol.

History: The man who was to become Commissar Ismael Castor was born on the Civilized world of Gudrun. His father was a newly-recruited Guardsman who had been sent off to war mere weeks before baby Ismael's birth as part of the 133th Gudrunite Rifles regiment. Castor's father rose through the ranks and became an officer before he was killed in action somewhere on the fringes of Imperial space, changing Castor's destiny entirely. He was taken by the Schola Progenium, away from his mother, and thereafter diligently trained to be a steadfast and loyal servant of the Imperium.

A recruiter from the Commissariat took interest and Castor was once again ripped from his life and into a brutal training program designed to mold him into a Cadet. The young man Ismael seized the opportunity to give his life purpose and took to the training well, despite its harsh nature and deliberate attempts of his drill-sergeants to see if they could break him. Castor staunchly refused to show any weakness and he completed his training with honors.

Castor was sent to join a Cadet unit of seven other aspiring Commissars attached to the Greygorian 14th under the leadership of Commissar-Captain Hieronymus Bierthar, a horribly rigid and sour man who taught all of his Cadets the same rule -- kill at the first sign of weakness. Castor took to these teachings enthusiastically and performed his first battlefield execution (overseen and sanctioned by Bierthar, of course) within three weeks. Bierthar's teachings were designed for the Cadets under his care to dehumanize the Guardsmen that they were supposed to discipline in order to make it easier to render lethal punishment.

Even after graduating to full Commissar status, Castor stuck to that mentality for more than two decades. Castor was, by far, the most feared Commissar in all of the Byzanthian regiments after he was attached to the Byzanthian 156th. Castor was with them for 24 years and it was during this time that he earned his dark moniker, the Silence, for it was said that the hushed silence of death descended around him whenever Castor unholstered his bolt pistol.

Eventually, Castor went one step too far. The Silence brought his bolt pistol to bear against an overwhelmingly popular officer of the Byzanthian 156th during an extremely fierce battle against Chaos insurgency forces on the Hive World of Aphrodus IV after the officer ordered a retreat, attempting to save the lives of his men. The whole regiment finally turned against the Commissar and Castor was forced to stand down or lose his own life. He relented. Initially furious with the Byzanthians and deeply disappointed with himself, Castor applied for a regimental transfer which was swiftly granted after several death threats against the Commissar were nearly carried out.

On his way to join his new regiment, Castor slowly came to realize the compassion of the officer's decision and the absurdity of his own attempt to sentence thousands of soldiers to die in the name of discipline. Later analysis of the battle determined that no possible action of the Byzanthian 156th could have turned the tide against the Chaos forces. Castor had just been stubborn and blind. From that moment on, Castor swore he would never be so strict and uncompromising ever again.

The last fifteen years of Castor's life were spent with the Cadian 143rd, a fiercely capable and loyal regiment that required an entirely different Commissarial approach than the previous regiments Castor had served with. It was the perfect opportunity to change his ways and Castor treated the Cadians as friends and comrades instead, drawing on their natural determination and resilience to inspire and encourage instead of playing on their fears. For the first time, Castor saw the Guardsmen as people and the blood-soaked Silence was no more.

Vernum Primas was a shitshow. Commissar Castor brazenly and optimistically urged the Cadians on, and on, and on, once more unto the breach, and once more, until the fight was won. These incredibly loyal soldiers of the Emperor had willingly stormed into the very fires of hell against the Greenskins, the most savage and dangerous opponent Castor had faced so far, and died by the thousands. In the end, there were only a few dozen left, Castor included -- how he had survived, he was not sure. Now Castor awaits his reassignment, quietly lamenting the demise of his beloved regiment.

Miscellaneous: Nothing.

[The Lioness]

Name: Johanna Weiss

Age: 36

Gender: Female

Height and Weight: Five foot Seven Inches, 141 lbs

Speciality: Captain of the Former Imperial Guard Regiment 407th Cadian, she has shown herself to be especially adept in defending small positions from greater threats by utilizing every available resource to her. She has also proven to be quite experience in fighting in close combat leading men into battle against foes in trenches, as well as defending against charges.

Appearance: A rather muscular build, years of hard combat are clearly defined in every toned swell of strength that ripples beneath her skin. Barely a wrinkle marks her skin regardless of the stress of her position she has managed to keep herself generally healthy simply by not partaking in the less scrupulous acts of drinking or smoking. Her ebony almost black as pitch skin smooth as it is, happens to be marred in two specific places, from her left elbow down her arm has been replaced with a mechanical one after a rather nasty run in with an Ork. The other Blemish being a scar roughly healed with age some remnant of her dark skin color having returned to it, puckered and running from the top of her left brow to just below the bone of her cheek.

Regardless of these blemishes there is still a beauty to her, one that would likely be moreso if not for her battle hardened life that has caused her full lips to be in an almost constant thin line, her dark brown eyes to remain half lidded at most times. Thin brows arch over those eyes usually in an expression of cool self-restraint, though they can quickly change to that of fierce in the thick of combat. Her smooth skull never seems to grow even a speck of hair almost as if she had it removed permanently, she often tells her troops that it is simply one more obstacle that can cause a distraction or even an impediment in battle. She tells them that a good Soldier is streamlined, ready for anything, her body agrees with this fact as it doesn’t seem to have an ounce of fat, her cheekbones high, jawline strong, with a neck that is thick enough to shove she can endure, but thin enough to give hint at the rest of her form beneath her clothing. Everything else about her is rather the usual, broader nose, what one would consider average ears, and a bit of shape to her hips, just enough to make it easier to set a combat belt upon compared to a man, while her chest is rather lacking even without her flak armor it would be hard to tell if she had breasts at all.

Uniform: She wears the typical garb of the Cadian Guard Officers, Cadian Great Coat, with Flak Armor, and a high peak officers cap. This combined with black leather combat boots, and a black leather combat belt embellished with a Golden Belt buckle in the shape of the Aquilla she looks quite the figure in combat as she tends to keep her uniform in as pristine a condition as possible regardless of the several bullet holes that riddle of the bottom of her great coat.

Armament: Upon her left hip hangs a sheath filled with the blade of a power sword, while upon her right hangs a holster with a simple las pistol feeling that if something more is required she is far in over her head already. Also hanging from her belt are two fragmentation grenades, of which she has found keeping at least one is most helpful.

Personality/Demeanour: Calm, cool, collected she keeps a hold of herself at all times, and though she is strict she is not harsh. She treats any Guard beneath her equally, and praises them for their achievements, and admonishes those who fail her. While she is strictly business with those who are enlisted among other officers, or those she grows to trust she will sometimes drop that wall and become a rather happy, if quiet person, softly chuckling at jokes, or even giving some of her own jabs in jest.

Greatest Ambition: To lead her troopers into victory against the enemies of the Imperium. She has no greater want than to serve the Emperor, and will do so in whatever way she has to.

Greatest Hatred: Deserters, the undisciplined, enemies of the Imperium all fall under her wrathful gaze and have little mercy from her ire.

Skills: Especially handy with a sword she has been fighting in close quarters most of her career against the enemies of the Imperium, more recently she attained a power sword and it feels as though she had never used anything but the weapon. Tactics, leadership she has used these for a decade now after having rose through the ranks of the Cadian Guard, her experience and ability to utilize these skills effectively come from real combat situations themselves rather than simple schooling as other guard regiments might do.

History: Johanna’s entire life has been spent in the military, she was born upon an Imperial Navy Vessel to her Cadian Guard Parents. She watched from afar as they fought for the Imperium, and spent her time away from them under the watchful eye of a Guardsman too injured to fight anymore who told her nothing but of old war stories. This man’s experience and knowledge would be what influence her in her future years, when she finally joined the Cadian 404th. It was during this time as an enlisted Guardswoman that she would prove her worth, prove herself to be an enlisted officer. It all started on Keplos IV, where Dark Eldar had been raiding the planet for years, the Imperium not seeing the need to unleash their most powerful warriors rather sent the Cadian 404th, a regiment that had been undermanned for some time. They fought valiantly.

For three years the battle on Keplos IV raged, and Johanna rose through the ranks as needed in the field. When their Lieutenant was slain in combat, she lead her men in a charge against a large raiding party of Dark Eldar who were attacking Civilians, the resulting combat would change her life forever. As the smoke cleared she found that most of her men were still alive, and many Dark Eldar lay dead, her rank was sealed, and she held it. The combat continued for some time though, and again and again she took her men into combat with Competence and zeal like no other officer in the regiment ever had. She had gained their respect, and their loyalty. She never dreamed that she would become more, and was quite content with what she had earned, but fate is never quite that simple.

A year later she found herself on the moon of Yesiree, a chaos incursion wreaking havoc with the miners that had been there, the continuing growing numbers of Chaotic entities drew the Imperium to send the Cadian 404th to deal with the situation for as long as possible, to stall the traitorous enemies of the Imperium until the Angels of Death could arrive. Hold they did, though at great cost, Johanna losing even her Captain in the process. Being the next in chain of command she was quickly promoted and found herself as acting Captain. Battles raged back and forth, and only twenty percent of the Regiment remained by the time the Imperial Fist Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes poured from the sky and obliterated the enemies of the Imperium. The Cadian 404th still was not done though, their final task would take them all the way to Verdus Prime, where the fate of the Regiment would truly be sealed.

Miscellaneous: Anything you want to mention but haven't been able to cover yet.

[Jb]

Junior-Commissar Kata Sigrun

Name: Kata Sigrun

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Height and Weight: 5' 10 1/2” and 178lbs

Speciality: Junior-Commissar

Appearance: If there was one phrase that describes how Kata both looks and acts it would have to be 'Nordic ice queen', a fine descriptor for both her bodily appearance and mental state.

From head to toe, we begin with a full head of moderately long hair that is usually tied and twisted into a bun, flaxen blonde in colour and always arranged neatly beneath a peaked cap or out of the way in readiness for combat. Her face, as far as things go, carries the looks of one that most men might find desirable – piercing blue eyes beneath thin arching brows and set against unmarked skin of milky white, a slender nose tipped with something of a point, and a strong jawline and chin with sharp cheekbones, a pair of full lips, and an upside-down triangular shape to it. This would be all good and well if she ever smiled, her lips set almost permanently into a half-grimace except in battle, when they are usually pulled back to reveal her teeth.

At just shy of six feet, and from years of intense training in both the Schola Progenium and in the clutches of the Commissariat, she has developed an oddly mixed build and figure of the masculine and the feminine; her body remaining narrow and lithe, but well-developed muscular tissue clearly visible if and when she decides to expose bare flesh on or off the field, including arms with muscles like twisted cables, and the hint of a stomach that most men would envy. Even her generous chest size could perhaps be found alluring (if one wished to die), although it'd be hard to tell beneath her jacket and tunic anyway.

All-in-all she would not look out of place in the upper crust of a Hive world, nor in the ranks of the Vostroyans or Valhallans, but instead she has become a symbol of fear and weapon of war...just how she likes it.

Uniform: An interpretation of the standard-issue Commissars uniform is what she can be seen in, most guessing incorrectly that she never actually takes it off.

A black great-coat with silver and red epaulettes placed over a form-fitting tunic of the usual black with red linings on the collar and cuff and silver thread about the torso, the peaked Commissar's cap with a silver skull adorning the centre, as well as the regulation black combat trousers (her own including a blood stripe down the outer leg) and a pair of black combat boots reaching to just below the knee.

A pair of black glove, although not standard issue, are worn by her as one of her few personal fancies - the only piece of armour she wears, for she is a combat Commissar after all, is a perfectly polished and kept cuirass, covering both her front and back, which is usually only worn when battle calls.

Armament: A standard-issue bolt pistol and chainsword, although she is not adverse to picking up a las-gun if the situation calls for it either.

Personality/Demeanour: Kata is what most Commissars begin as, even if they mellow over the years, only recently leaving the Commissariat for combat duties and still holding the rank of Junior-Commissar. As such she is a stickler for the details, whether that be how a weapon should be kept, how one should act in front of the troops, or a thousand other lessons that have been hammered into her since she began.

It may also come as little of a surprise that she has no real love for the male gender (nor much more for her own), having gone through a process that churns out male candidates by the hundreds, counting herself both lucky and ashamed to have not been chosen to join the Adepta Sororitas along with other female classmates at the Schola Progenium; she had had to fight hard, claw her way to where she is, and if she has to execute a few perceived cowards to retain her position then so be it!

Although outwardly enchanting, at least in terms of appearance, she is often standoffish and cold to those under her supervision – just as much with those of her peers or superiors that she perceives to lack in one or more of what she believes is necessary to serve the God-Emperor. For this reason she can be, and is, seen as aloof and unapproachable, this being only true up to a certain point.

No-one has ever managed to crack the façade yet, but who knows what the future may hold?

Lastly, though a firm believer in the Imperial Creed, she is not overtly xenophobic toward those that are different than herself – at least in the case of Abhuman servants of the Emperor – saving her hatred for those that deserve it. If you serve the Imperium, fight in their ranks, and die for Him on Terra, then there is no problem.

Greatest Ambition: To serve the God-Emperor in all things, to bring about a 'new dawn' for the Imperium, and to follow 'the book' to the letter while doing it.

Greatest Hatred: The enemies of the Imperium in all their myriad forms, cowards, and those that shirk their duty in one way or another.

Skills: Oddly for one of her cool demeanour, Kata is considered to be an exceptional orator - more than capable of whipping up mobs to fanatical levels and restoring the morale of those around her with her fiery words alone – saving the chapter and verse for the battlefield but not afraid to spout the Imperial Creed whenever it is required. Like all those of her position she also has training in military exercises, weapons proficiency, hand-to-hand combat, and religious studies, having fought on over a dozen words as part of a Cadet squad and gained valuable first-hand experience from this. She is not particularly efficient in any one area, as of yet, excelling as a jack-of-all-trades but only really excelling in speeches and addresses to the warriors under her management. All the same, it would be a madman or an idiot that would seek to challenge her.

History: WIP

Miscellaneous: None

[agentmanatee]

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