Character Sheet
Name: Franklin Warwick Steiner
Gender: Male
Age: 38
Rank: Sergeant
Former Regiment(s): 4th Squad, 2nd Platoon, 5th Infantry Company, 24th Cadian Regiment
Specialty/Role: Field Medic
Personal Demeanor: The once bright-eyed and bushy tailed junior medic that was Franklin Steiner has long since died, replaced by a cynical shell of a man. War's horrific maw have chewed away at the idealism that caused Steiner to join up with the Imperial Guard in the first place. A devotion to the Emperor, and the desire to protect Cadia's legacy like all those who came before him, feel like a distant, cruel dream instead of the sergeant's past. War is hell. He's seen too many good men die to think otherwise. All the talk of glory, the pomp of service- it was nothing more than a smokescreen to deceive young men into thinking there was some kind of honor in fighting in the Emperor's name. There isn't. Not in reality. Steiner continues to serve because that's the only thing he knows. He'll continue to fight until the day he draws his last breath; because he doesn't know anything else.
Frank is known for a near disturbing ability to remain calm under pressure, unaffected by the horrors of death and violence around him. He can continue patching up wounded men or firing his lasgun into the enemy horde even in the worst conditions. Steiner keeps a surprisingly sharp, dry wit. A healthy dose of sarcasm, even in the midst of a firefight, helps numb the pain that is endless conflict. He treats his men well enough, or tries to, though some are (rightfully) put off by his cynical, distrusting attitude. The sergeant doesn't usually like getting too close to those he fights with. If they're all gonna end up dead anyway, what's the point of making friends with 'em? He'll care less when they're gone, so it hurts just a little bit less than it otherwise would.
Frank despises Chaos. The heretics and the mutants are responsible for the wholesale slaughter of many of his comrades. Daemons, creatures of the warp, hold a particular place in Steiner's dark, hateful heart. Xenos, while still his enemy, are a bit more amiable. Greenskins are nothing but savages to be put down, but...the Eldar and Tau feel like lesser threats. The Eldar in particular are difficult for Frank to fight, given how they were so intricately tied to saving many of Cadia's people during the world's fall. Traitor Guardsmen not beset by the corrupting powers of Chaos have Steiner's pity, for he understands their struggle and empathizes with them- but they are the enemy all the same. At the end of the day, Sergeant Steiner shoots at whatever he's ordered to. Anything less would be grounds for execution.
Description: Sergeant Franklin Warwick Steiner is not a tall man. He stands several inches below the average height for a man of his age in the Imperium. Decades of continuous service have rendered his body strong, and hardened. His skin is scarred and tanned, feeling more like hardened leather than anything else. With arms like tree trunks and a chest shaped like a barrel, Doc can hold his own in a grappling match with anything short of an Ogryn.
Seven of Steiner's fingers have been replaced by bionic augments, and his body is practically a canvas for scar tissue. Burns, cuts and bullet wounds scatter their way across his chest and arms. A deep, ugly scar runs from just above his left eye, down his nose, and ending above his right lip- a Traitor's bayonet nearly finding a new home in his face in the past. His eyes are a deep brown, matching the scruffy stubble upon his chin and the barely regulation locks falling down from his head.
Typically, the sergeant wears the normal uniform of a Cadian infantryman. The only difference between his and the standard fair being the bright red symbol of a member of the medical corps featured prominently on his left shoulder pad, opposite his squad number. In the same vein, his arm holds a medicinal injector around the gauntlet, for quick and easy application of battlefield stimulants.
Service Record (History): Frank was born in the upper echelons of 'Cadian' society, on the cold distant ice ball of Markus Tillian; a tiny colony established on a frozen world by one of Cadia's many surviving regiments. His father was a senator and a leader in this new society, and his mother the daughter of a wealthy rogue trader. Franklin's early life was dominated by luxury and ceremonious pomp. He was raised among the children of aristocrats, learning of fallen Cadia's history through a rosy, tinted lens. Life was good. It was surprisingly easy, all things considered. But that wasn't what Frank wanted. He heard whispers of the Eye of Terror that hung over broken Cadia like a ragged corpse, and of the fallen Gate that once kept the tendrils of Chaos at bay. He heard tales of the mighty Imperial Guard, and the brave men and women of Cadia who stood guard against the Daemons until their final fall during the Black Crusade. Young Steiner wanted to become like those heroes who gave everything. To become like those far off heroes and legendary figures that he'd heard so much about. His parents weren't keen on it; what parent would want their child to grow up into a martyr? They figured their son, raised soft and squishy as the child of a noble, wasn't fit for such a life. Thinking it would disillusion him from these childish fantasies of going to war, his parents admitted him into the colony's version of the Whiteshields.
They were mistaken, however, because Franklin had never loved something as much as being one of the Whiteshields. It was new, exciting, and- for the first time in his young life- challenging. Steiner made a whole host of new, diverse and interesting friends. They twirled their little rifles and paraded around boot camp, singing songs and working hard. It wasn't easy, but young Frank found it incredibly fulfilling. His desire to join the Imperial Guard was made all the more intense. So, when he came of age, Steiner shipped off to join the Planetary Defense Force; the first step on his journey to the Guard. As a member of the Planetary Defense Force, Franklin's duties as a soldier became all the more demanding. His commanding officers shaped himself and his friends from the Whiteshields into the rough and ready Shock Troopers the sons of Cadia are so well known for. In the PDF, Steiner got his first taste of combat against cultists and traitors. He spilled blood for the first time- blood of men. Several of his friends died beside him in that first battle, and some of that luster was lost.
One battle almost immediately led to the next, and then the next. Chaos incursion after Chaos incursion came for the Cadian colony, assaulting the fringe world at every turn. Trooper Steiner was shipped across his home sytem and beyond, fighting back the tendrils of Chaotic madness. Slaughtering traitor, heretic and daemon alike. It was utterly terrifying, and madness inducing. Men died beside him wholesale. More than half of his company was wiped out and replaced by strangers after only a single month. After Steiner held the dying form of his best friend in his arms, struck in the chest by enemy Lasgun fire, Steiner decided he needed to do something about it. So he took up specialization in the medical corps. Franklin was briefly taken off the front line to learn how to operate the equipment, and how to properly deal with any manner of wounds. Then he was thrown right back out into the muck and mud.
Service in the Imperial Guard came five years in. Frank, now a Corporeal, was thrust into a position of leadership over men he didn't know. He tried to maintain some form of camaraderie, but it seemed like every time he got close to someone they'd end up dead in his hands. More battles, more scars, and more dead friends. It was an endless cycle of suffering and death. Days ran together. Months turned into years. Years, finally, into decades. The sands of time wore down any glory or honor Steiner might have thought awaited him in the Guard. There was nothing here but death. Nothing but pain.
He didn't even know the names of the men he was patching up anymore. It didn't matter. They'd be dead in a week's time, if they were lucky. Most didn't survive first contact with the enemy. Somehow, Franklin's detached coldness was mistaken for excellence of service, and he ended up promoted to Sergeant. He continued doing what he was told. Continued to march into battle like a zombie, pointing his Lasgun at whatever foul thing his commanding officers wanted him to. It wasn't until recently that things changed. He received a call from command about a potential new position in a Spec Ops group known as the 'Ordo Nominis Umbra.' It paid well, and would break up the monotony of endless front line work- hell, maybe something would finally come along that could kill Steiner and he could finally know peace.
Equipment and Armament: Typically favors a short pattern Kantrael MG Lasrifle and bayonet, with an Autopistol as a sidearm. Standard medical equipment is included as well: a Diagnosticator, his injector, and a medikit.
Miscellaneous: Sergeant Steiner goes by several nicknames- including Frank, Frankie, Doc, Sarge and 'Jaded old asshole.'
Gender: Male
Age: 38
Rank: Sergeant
Former Regiment(s): 4th Squad, 2nd Platoon, 5th Infantry Company, 24th Cadian Regiment
Specialty/Role: Field Medic
Personal Demeanor: The once bright-eyed and bushy tailed junior medic that was Franklin Steiner has long since died, replaced by a cynical shell of a man. War's horrific maw have chewed away at the idealism that caused Steiner to join up with the Imperial Guard in the first place. A devotion to the Emperor, and the desire to protect Cadia's legacy like all those who came before him, feel like a distant, cruel dream instead of the sergeant's past. War is hell. He's seen too many good men die to think otherwise. All the talk of glory, the pomp of service- it was nothing more than a smokescreen to deceive young men into thinking there was some kind of honor in fighting in the Emperor's name. There isn't. Not in reality. Steiner continues to serve because that's the only thing he knows. He'll continue to fight until the day he draws his last breath; because he doesn't know anything else.
Frank is known for a near disturbing ability to remain calm under pressure, unaffected by the horrors of death and violence around him. He can continue patching up wounded men or firing his lasgun into the enemy horde even in the worst conditions. Steiner keeps a surprisingly sharp, dry wit. A healthy dose of sarcasm, even in the midst of a firefight, helps numb the pain that is endless conflict. He treats his men well enough, or tries to, though some are (rightfully) put off by his cynical, distrusting attitude. The sergeant doesn't usually like getting too close to those he fights with. If they're all gonna end up dead anyway, what's the point of making friends with 'em? He'll care less when they're gone, so it hurts just a little bit less than it otherwise would.
Frank despises Chaos. The heretics and the mutants are responsible for the wholesale slaughter of many of his comrades. Daemons, creatures of the warp, hold a particular place in Steiner's dark, hateful heart. Xenos, while still his enemy, are a bit more amiable. Greenskins are nothing but savages to be put down, but...the Eldar and Tau feel like lesser threats. The Eldar in particular are difficult for Frank to fight, given how they were so intricately tied to saving many of Cadia's people during the world's fall. Traitor Guardsmen not beset by the corrupting powers of Chaos have Steiner's pity, for he understands their struggle and empathizes with them- but they are the enemy all the same. At the end of the day, Sergeant Steiner shoots at whatever he's ordered to. Anything less would be grounds for execution.
Description: Sergeant Franklin Warwick Steiner is not a tall man. He stands several inches below the average height for a man of his age in the Imperium. Decades of continuous service have rendered his body strong, and hardened. His skin is scarred and tanned, feeling more like hardened leather than anything else. With arms like tree trunks and a chest shaped like a barrel, Doc can hold his own in a grappling match with anything short of an Ogryn.
Seven of Steiner's fingers have been replaced by bionic augments, and his body is practically a canvas for scar tissue. Burns, cuts and bullet wounds scatter their way across his chest and arms. A deep, ugly scar runs from just above his left eye, down his nose, and ending above his right lip- a Traitor's bayonet nearly finding a new home in his face in the past. His eyes are a deep brown, matching the scruffy stubble upon his chin and the barely regulation locks falling down from his head.
Typically, the sergeant wears the normal uniform of a Cadian infantryman. The only difference between his and the standard fair being the bright red symbol of a member of the medical corps featured prominently on his left shoulder pad, opposite his squad number. In the same vein, his arm holds a medicinal injector around the gauntlet, for quick and easy application of battlefield stimulants.
Service Record (History): Frank was born in the upper echelons of 'Cadian' society, on the cold distant ice ball of Markus Tillian; a tiny colony established on a frozen world by one of Cadia's many surviving regiments. His father was a senator and a leader in this new society, and his mother the daughter of a wealthy rogue trader. Franklin's early life was dominated by luxury and ceremonious pomp. He was raised among the children of aristocrats, learning of fallen Cadia's history through a rosy, tinted lens. Life was good. It was surprisingly easy, all things considered. But that wasn't what Frank wanted. He heard whispers of the Eye of Terror that hung over broken Cadia like a ragged corpse, and of the fallen Gate that once kept the tendrils of Chaos at bay. He heard tales of the mighty Imperial Guard, and the brave men and women of Cadia who stood guard against the Daemons until their final fall during the Black Crusade. Young Steiner wanted to become like those heroes who gave everything. To become like those far off heroes and legendary figures that he'd heard so much about. His parents weren't keen on it; what parent would want their child to grow up into a martyr? They figured their son, raised soft and squishy as the child of a noble, wasn't fit for such a life. Thinking it would disillusion him from these childish fantasies of going to war, his parents admitted him into the colony's version of the Whiteshields.
They were mistaken, however, because Franklin had never loved something as much as being one of the Whiteshields. It was new, exciting, and- for the first time in his young life- challenging. Steiner made a whole host of new, diverse and interesting friends. They twirled their little rifles and paraded around boot camp, singing songs and working hard. It wasn't easy, but young Frank found it incredibly fulfilling. His desire to join the Imperial Guard was made all the more intense. So, when he came of age, Steiner shipped off to join the Planetary Defense Force; the first step on his journey to the Guard. As a member of the Planetary Defense Force, Franklin's duties as a soldier became all the more demanding. His commanding officers shaped himself and his friends from the Whiteshields into the rough and ready Shock Troopers the sons of Cadia are so well known for. In the PDF, Steiner got his first taste of combat against cultists and traitors. He spilled blood for the first time- blood of men. Several of his friends died beside him in that first battle, and some of that luster was lost.
One battle almost immediately led to the next, and then the next. Chaos incursion after Chaos incursion came for the Cadian colony, assaulting the fringe world at every turn. Trooper Steiner was shipped across his home sytem and beyond, fighting back the tendrils of Chaotic madness. Slaughtering traitor, heretic and daemon alike. It was utterly terrifying, and madness inducing. Men died beside him wholesale. More than half of his company was wiped out and replaced by strangers after only a single month. After Steiner held the dying form of his best friend in his arms, struck in the chest by enemy Lasgun fire, Steiner decided he needed to do something about it. So he took up specialization in the medical corps. Franklin was briefly taken off the front line to learn how to operate the equipment, and how to properly deal with any manner of wounds. Then he was thrown right back out into the muck and mud.
Service in the Imperial Guard came five years in. Frank, now a Corporeal, was thrust into a position of leadership over men he didn't know. He tried to maintain some form of camaraderie, but it seemed like every time he got close to someone they'd end up dead in his hands. More battles, more scars, and more dead friends. It was an endless cycle of suffering and death. Days ran together. Months turned into years. Years, finally, into decades. The sands of time wore down any glory or honor Steiner might have thought awaited him in the Guard. There was nothing here but death. Nothing but pain.
He didn't even know the names of the men he was patching up anymore. It didn't matter. They'd be dead in a week's time, if they were lucky. Most didn't survive first contact with the enemy. Somehow, Franklin's detached coldness was mistaken for excellence of service, and he ended up promoted to Sergeant. He continued doing what he was told. Continued to march into battle like a zombie, pointing his Lasgun at whatever foul thing his commanding officers wanted him to. It wasn't until recently that things changed. He received a call from command about a potential new position in a Spec Ops group known as the 'Ordo Nominis Umbra.' It paid well, and would break up the monotony of endless front line work- hell, maybe something would finally come along that could kill Steiner and he could finally know peace.
Equipment and Armament: Typically favors a short pattern Kantrael MG Lasrifle and bayonet, with an Autopistol as a sidearm. Standard medical equipment is included as well: a Diagnosticator, his injector, and a medikit.
Miscellaneous: Sergeant Steiner goes by several nicknames- including Frank, Frankie, Doc, Sarge and 'Jaded old asshole.'
