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    1. Dragonruby 11 yrs ago

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Name: Atellus Zuriel

Gender: Male

Age: 26

Appearance:


Equipment:
Carapace Armor
Lasgun, Five spare magazines
Extendable Plasteel Baton
Flask of Amasec
Engraved Knife

Personality: Atellus can often be seen as rather stand-offish, keeping to his own most of the time, and remarking back with sarcastic comments when spoken to. This is largely due to the fact that most people outside of his home vessel find him rather unsettling as a voidborn, with pale skin, black hair, and bright yellow eyes, and he has taken to wearing his full suit of armor around in order to hide any signs that he has been touched by life aboard a space vessel. His life as a voidborn has, however, given him a higher tolerance for psykers and the strange things that seem to follow them. Afterall, a ship travelling through the warp tended to suffer from the occasional anomalies, and operation of a space vessel relied on psykers, such as astropaths, in order to function.

History: As a voidborn, most of Atellus' life has been aboard a space ship, in his case, the ship of a Rogue Trader's, The Baleful Beacon. There, he served as one of the Rogue Trader's many armsmen, keeping order onboard the ship, and, on occasion, going planetside in order to aid the Rogue Trader in any number of tasks that required a few extra guns. Atellus caught the interest of the Inquisition when he took part in an investigation of a murder that would lead to the discovery of a Chaos Cult onboard the vessel. While he played no particularly special role in the investigation, he was noted for his bravery and combat prowess against the cultists as one of the first men onboard to combat them, and taking part in an assault that stopped the cultists from taking down the ship's Gellar Field while in Warp transit.

Position in Retinue: Atellus is primarily around to serve as the muscle, shooting and fighting his way out of issues should the situation demand it. He is also capable of taking on a more investigative role, though he is largely inexperienced in this field, having never really dealt with problems more than petty theft or breaking up fights during his time onboard The Baleful Beacon
So like a free form version of Dark Heresy, huh? Yea, sounds interesting to me.
I might have some interest in this
Hawkins fiddled with his binoculars, idly changing the vision mode to infrared, then to night vision, then back to normal, as Reeves and Black stared out at the battlefield with their own pair that they grabbed from the jeep. The two seemed to be making bets on certain parts of the fight. such as which side would win in a particular skirmish, and hissing and 'ahh'ing as the soldiers below died particularly gruesome deaths or made massive turnarounds and comebacks. Personal favorites came and went as they were slaughtered, and Reeves gave a particularly long string of curses as one of the soldiers he'd bet on played hero and dived on top of a grenade. It seemed wrong for them to be doing something like this, belittling the death of so many men, but Hawkins kept his mouth shut on the matter. As long as it didn't impede combat effectiveness, Hawkins didn't really quite care what his men did in their free time. He began to drift off somewhat as he sat there, in the shade of a tree.

Hawkins was pulled from his trance as he heard Private Bryan cry out. "Oh, what the fuck! It's raining fucking fire!" Hawkins glanced over at Hawkins, eyebrow quirked in concern, but as he followed Bryan's finger, pointed up at the sky, Hawkins soon came to understand why it was that Bryan was so excited. Angry red streaks of fire and flame fell from the sky, intent on crashing into the battlefield below, leaving even more chaos in its wake. All around him, Hawkins could hear the others murmur and shout out their own exclamations of surprise.

He stared up at the sky in awe for a few moments before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, down in the battlefield below. He snapped up his binoculars and zoomed in for a closer look. It was a scout car, seemingly intent on makings its way off the battlefield. Hawkins snapped his fingers towards Reeves, then pointed at the car. "Corporal, eyes off the light show. Look down there. Looks like we've got a couple of non-combatants trying to make it out."

Reeves followed Hawkins' finger, looking through the eyes of his binoculars. "What makes you so sure they're non-combatants?" Private Cross asked from behind them, still staring up at the falling debris.

"I'm pretty sure soldiers don't wear lab coats all that often." Hawkins followed the car with his eyes, watching them go. There was something about that car. "Everyone, pack your shit. We're following that car."

"What?" Black asked. "Why? It's probably just a group of deserters, or some VIPs trying to get the hell out. It's none of our business, right? We're just here to see the big commotion. Hell, there's no guarantee those guys are making it out in one piece anyways."

Hawkins stared out at the car as it swerved to avoid an artillery strike. "Call it a gut feeling. Those men have something important. Besides, we all know how this fight's going to end anyways. Now come on, grab your shit. We're going." Black stared back at Hawkins with a quizzical look, likely wondering just what the hell was going through the man's mind, but she soon gave in, shaking her head and sighing, making her way to the jeep they had hidden a little ways back, following the others.

Reeves sighed. "Well, if you're sure about this, sir."
The jeep rumbled and shook as they drove across rocks and roots, Reeves who was manning the machinegun on top cursing as they hit a particularly bad bump. They'd been driving for a while now, a few hours at least, following the car. It'd run off into a forest, where it was simple enough to follow the trail it had left behind. Hawkins had been keeping an eye out on their surroundings. Wouldn't want to be ambushed by the natives or anything.

A deep and guttural cry roared out from the woods ahead, and Black, the driver, slammed on the brakes. Everyone was silent for a moment as they strained their ears to pick up any other sounds, and everything was silent until they began to hear the human screams. "Everyone dismount... We're investigating... Spread out and stay hidden..."

"I dunno... That sounded pretty bad..." Bryan gave back.

"Quit your whining, Bryan. Come on, we've got mysteries to solve." Reeves snarked back. Everyone dismounted from the jeep and began to move forwards, making sure to keep behind bushes and trees. The going was a little on the slow side as they tried not to make too much sound, but they didn't have to go too far to see what had been going on. It was a small clearing of sorts, and in the center were six figures. Two of them, Canton soldiers, were limp on the floor, likely dead, and one was a native of truly massive proportions, covered in white ash and carrying a native-made blade. The last three figures were scientists, men in lab coats, and one was in the native's hands. The one the native held was tossed into the car, and slammed into its body as the native hissed out in halting English. The native reached into the vehicle, even as the one scientist scrabbled into the car and began to drive away, and pulled out a container of some sort, leaving it on the floor as he turned his attention to the last two men. What happened next was... revolting. Hawkins fought the urge to throw up, and he heard Black gag quietly behind him, even as Reeves put his hand over her mouth to silence her. Still, they stood there and watched, in part unwilling to bring the native's attention to them, and another part in shock at the scene before them.

The native made trophies from their bodies, seemingly to look bored as he finished. It turned its attention to the object it stole from the car earlier, smashing the container open and retrieving the thing. To Hawkins' surprise, the object began to glow, and the native seemed to fall into a trance. Then the metal object spoke. Then the native began to glow too. As the light faded, the native walked off into the forest, dissapearing from sight. They waited for several more moments before they pushed through into the clearing, cautiously investigating the remains while Reeves peered off into the direction the native had run off towards. There was no question as to whether or not they were dead.

"What... Holy fucking shit... What the fuck was that about!?" Bryan cried out, even as he cringed away from one of the corpses, and Black vomited into one of the bushes, as Cross seemed to just stare at the bodies, his facial features hidden behind his helmet.

"I... I don't know..." Hawkins replied. "Reeves... You got any tracks there?"

"No luck, sir." Reeves said, glancing back. "This guy probably knows these woods like the back of his hand... We'd just get lost following him."

"Alright..." Hawkins said, nodding back. "Come on, everyone back to the jeep... We're going after the survivor... I want some answers as to what just happened, and he probably knows best."

"He better fucking know... Fuck that was messed up..." Bryan mumbled under his breath.
Gabriel stared intensely at the brush ahead of him from around the corner of the tree, waiting silently for something to break through. The moments ticked by, and he found himself doubting if there was anything there at all. Eventually, when he was almost sure it had simply been the wind or some of the native wildlife, several figures broke through the plant life. Three utterly alien figures, all of them walking on four legs, with long necks that were topped with little eye stalks, and in their hands they carried guns of some kind, judging from the general look of the weapon. He pulled back behind the tree and radioed back to the rest of the squad. "This is Corporal Vargas... I've got line of sight with three of our new guests and they haven't seen me yet... They're armed, but it looks like they're only just scouting right now..." He also gave back a quick description of of the creatures before the sergeant of the squad radioed back.

"Alright, good. Keep out of sight until I get to you, I'm headed your way now." Gabriel peered back around the tree for a moment, and quickly ducked back behind it, cursing. The aliens were headed closer to him. He quickly looked around for someplace to duck to, but every option had him moving through some measure of open ground, and they were too close for him to get away unseen. He was panicking now. There was no way out and they were getting closer by the moment.

Gabriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He quickly radioed back, "Sorry sarge, but looks like I'm going to have to make contact without you..." There was a flurry of questions and requests for clarification from the other end, but Gabriel shut them out of his mind as he moved to reveal himself from behind the tree only to be met face-to-face with one of them. Gabriel let out a scream, lashing out with one hand to push the thing back and away from him as he took a few steps backwards himself, quickly bringing up his rifle to bear. His eyes darted between the three things before him, sizing them up. This is going well, he thought to himself. He grimaced as he wondered what to do next. They probably wouldn't understand a single word he said. Did they even properly communicate through words? For all he knew these things were fucking telepathic. Still, he had to try something. "D-Drop your weapons?" Gabriel ventured. Yea, great job Gabe... You're totally making a good first impression here.
Not dying
Corporal Gabriel Vargas stared out at the ocean below him, as the entire carrier VTOL shook and vibrated. Honestly, the state of the VTOL worried him quite a bit, and the fact that it'd taken roughly three tries, and one false start involving them lifting five feet off the ground only for the engines to choke out, really didn't help him any. The pilot, however, had assured them all that he'd get them to their destination safe and sound. Gabriel clutched at the ring attached to a necklace around his neck, a good luck charm, and prayed that they wouldn't all die in a horrible and devastating crash.

Gabriel's prayers were interrupted when someone sitting on the other side of the VTOL pointed towards the sky can called out, "Hey everyone, look! Shooting stars!" Gabriel followed the man's finger, and sure enough, streaks of of bright white threw themselves across the sky. Gabriel noticed the others crowding behind him as they too tried to get a look at the bits of falling debris, and even the other VTOLs had soldiers peering out to watch the light show, giving quiet murmurs of wonderment and amazement. "Hmm... I didn't hear about any meteor showers or anything headed our way." Gabriel heard someone say. The sergeant spoke up, bringing them back to earth. "Alright, come on, break it up! Briefing's about to start."

As everyone settled back down, a voice over the radio spoke up, likely someone back at Rampart City. "Alright people, as you're all sure to know, time is of the essence here, which is why I'm talking to all of you over the radio rather than doing this in person. A little under fifteen minutes ago, the Rampart's sensors picked up several dropships coming in from orbit. They're not of any design we've ever seen and they visually don't look too advanced. None of us are sure as to who these guys are, but the higher ups are hedging their bets on aliens of some sort. Either way, your mission is to scout out the area, find out what they are and discern if they're going to be a threat to us. If not... Try to make friendly contact. The Underground's lacking friends right now, and we could really do with some. You've all been chosen for this mission because of your initial efforts to scout out the islands the unknown contacts seem to have landed on, so this should be familiar territory for you. Remember, stay out of sight until you know for a fact that they aren't hostile. Rampart out."

There was a lot of quiet grumbling that went around after the briefing had been over. They'd already known most of this, and whoever it was that was on the radio hadn't added anything new. "Make contact with aliens?" Someone besides Gabriel asked. "Isn't that a diplomat's job? We're soldiers, not negotiators."

"I think the Underground is a little short on diplomats right now..." Gabriel responded, glancing over to the man.
They landed shortly after, as the various VTOLs came in low in order to try and stay out of site and hide from whatever sensors the unknown contacts may have had. Gabriel's squad disembarked quickly, and the sergeant in charge began barking out orders. "Alright men, everyone split up. We need to cover as much ground as possible, and remember, stay hidden. We don't know if anyone else has noticed these guys, but if they have, we sure as hell don't want to be here when they come to investigate. Stay in radio contact and report back any findings. Now, let's move!"

The squad quickly broke up, and Gabriel soon found himself alone, moving as quietly as he could through the forest, rifle clutched to his chest. It'd been a while since he'd been here. The last time had been years ago when Rampart City was still setting itself up. "Familiar territory my ass..." Gabriel grumbled to himself. A lot could change over a matter of years, and his memory of the area had dimmed quite a bit too. At least they had all been issued a map.

A sudden rustling quickly caught Gabriel's attention, and he quickly pushed himself behind a tree, peering just a little bit around it. He debated for a moment about whether or not to radio this in, but it was entirely possible that it was simply native wildlife. In the end, he settled with simply staying quiet and remaining hidden, at least until he could confirm what it was that was moving.
Continent of Sakria
Rampart City

Rampart City was a concrete sprawl of buildings and roads. It wasn’t a pretty site, but it was home to one and a half thousand people, and all of it surrounded the hulk of the Rampart which had been turned into both the seat of power for what rag tag government they had established and as a military headquarters. Within the Rampart, seated at a desk within the old captain’s quarters, Interim President Hyde mused to himself on a rather pressing issue. The captain’s quarter was a windowless room, that, despite being rather sizeable, had always made him feel just a little claustrophobic. Hyde was an aging man by now, entering his fifties with a head of brown hair that was splattered with silver and gray, and a rather full looking beard. The creases in his face, though, showed signs of aging past his time, as stress played havoc with his health.

Dacyria was supposed to be a new home for these people, but now with the arrival of so many others, and the recent aggression of the natives, things were beginning to grow tense within the city. The old Underground had lost sight of its original goals, becoming nothing more than a group of pirates and thieves, but now… Here on Dacyria… They had a second chance, a chance to build a new home away from the oppressive rule they had first been established to fight. Hyde had fought hard for them to be given this chance.

The other human colonies had, so far, stayed away from Underground holdings but with things progressing as they were now, it would only be a matter of time before they were stumbled upon. Years had passed since they’d last met with governmental forces of Earth, but they were still wanted men, and discovery could bring a terrible wrath down upon them all. Even worse, they were rather lacking in both manpower and supplies compared to the other established colonies, and worse yet, there was little that Hyde could do about it.
Sergeant Hawkins let out a low whistle as he watched the fighting around the Canton Research Facility through the eyes of a pair of binoculars. “Looks like they’re really beating the hell out of each other…” Hawkins glanced back at the rest of his five man squad as they sat crouched at the top of a ridge overlooking the battlefield a fair distance away. He handed the binoculars over to Corporal Reeves so that he could have a look.

“Hot damn!” Reeves said as he took his own look. “That’s a straight up slugfest that they’re doing out there…”

“I heard that the other colonies were having skirmishes with each other, but this is the first time I’ve heard of them being in open conflict…” Corporal Black muttered to herself.

Private Bryan stared out over the field, his hand over his eyes. “Can you tell who the players are out there, Reeves?”

“Give me a minute…” Reeves mumbled. “Well… It’s obviously Canton forces that are defending here… And it looks like we’ve got AVA Mercenaries playing the aggressor here… Hmm, wonder who paid them.” Reeves handed back the binoculars to Hawkins who tapped them in his palm for a moment as he thought to himself.

“I doubt we’ll find that out anytime soon…” Hawkins said, scratching his chin. “Anyways, HQ’s probably going to want to know what happens here, and we’re a little far from home to be radioing back to them, so it looks like we’ll be camping out here while our friends down there are blowing each other to bits.” There was a round of groans and complaints, but Hawkins ignored it. They were already expecting it to begin with. “Reeves, go and take Private Bryan with you and fetch the supplies from the jeep. The rest of us will stay here and keep watch.”

Reeves gave a lazy “Yes, sir,” and waved for Bryan to follow him before disappearing into the trees.

Hawkins turned the binoculars back to the battlefield in front of them, watching the artillery fire while Black spoke to Private Cross, the newest member of the squad. “Say, Cross… Why the hell are you still wearing that goddamned helmet?”

“What do you mean?” Cross asked back. “It’s protocol to wear all protective gear when in the fie-“

“Who cares about protocol? That thing’s stuffy as all hell! Seriously, how the hell do you breathe in that?”

Hawkins saw Cross shrug out of the corner of his eye. “We hiked with them back in boot camp.”

“Yeah, real good way to get heat stroke in my opinion, just how many recruits passed out during these hikes of yours?”

Hawkins butted in finally, deciding to end the argument. “Come on now, Black. If Cross wants to wear his helmet, let him. Long as it doesn’t slow him down.” Black rolled her eyes and grunted in affirmative. Hawkins turned over to look at Private Cross for a moment. The man was fresh out of training, and dressed in a full body suit of armor that showed zero skin, and clutched in his hands was a ZK-01, an assault rifle designed by the Underground itself. Ever since the first proper factories had started up and mining operations had gone underway, the Underground had been trying to begin standardizing Militia equipment, with the armor and rifle being such attempts. The full body armor was a simple thing, it wasn’t powered, nor did it provide any real outstanding protection other than the full body coverage, but the helmet had a few basic additions, such as a HUD and a radio system built in, and it also acted as a gas mask in case of chemical attack. The downside of all of it, of course, was the added weight, and the fact that none of the material really breathed, meaning most soldiers stuck with the more piecemeal pieces of armor they had. The ZK-01 rifle was designed by a few weapons engineers that had deserted to the Underground for one reason or another, and was designed to be rugged, reliable, and easy to maintain, a godsend considering the Underground’s current position. Still, other than new recruits, it, along with the new armor system, wasn’t used all that often just yet, as most soldiers had tried and true favorites they preferred.

Cross was the rookie of the squad, having been assigned to them only a week before they were sent out on this scouting mission. Hawkins had worked with everyone else on the team for at least a month beforehand, and he’d gotten to know them well enough, but Cross was the odd man out. He seemed like a good enough person, a little too by-the-books, so to speak, but he’d probably grow out of it. Hawkins shook his head and turned his attention back to the conflict between AVA and Canton. He wondered which side would buckle first. So far it looked like Canton was on the losing side, but you never knew. Something was going down here. He could feel it in his gut.
Here is my attempt at a NS. Perhaps a little on the short side, but hopefully this is good enough.

Faction Sheet
Faction Name: The Systems Underground

Faction Type: Criminal Hideout/Colony

Affiliation: None

Leader(s): Interim President Gregory Hyde

Persons of Importance:

Military/Civilian Assets:

Scavenged Vehicles
Nearly all of the Underground’s current supply of vehicles are scavenged, rag-tag, and still functioning only by dint of mechanical ingenuity, coming in poor quality and quantity. Their vehicles come from the ships they came in on, and have seen many years of use and maintenance, using whatever parts could be found to keep them functional. They may once have had a standard design, but over time they have been changed and customized so much that nearly every vehicle the Underground owns is unique in some way. While the Underground does have a number of factories, their industrial base is rather small, and the quality of any vehicles produced is roughly the same as those they currently have. These vehicles range from ATVs, poorly armored and smoke chugging APCs, and even a few VTOLs and heavy lifting aircraft, though fuel for such flying craft is in poor supply.

The Militia
The military arm of the Underground, the Militia is poorly equipped, lacks proper discipline, and is only barely organized by dint of what few deserters that have joined the Underground. There is no real standard equipment for the Militia, though upon graduation of basic training, all Militia members are afforded a rifle of whatever kind is on hand, and a basic suit of full-body. Additional pieces of equipment can be requisitioned or obtained through personal means, with the requisitioning of supplies being handled by necessity and availability due to the lack of available supplies. Not everyone within the Militia is so poorly equipped though. While the Militia is lacking in many things, they are not intended to fight an enemy on equal footing. Instead, they rely on guerilla tactics, using their knowledge of the land around them to make life a living hell for anyone who would face them. There are a dangerous few whom the Underground has seen fit to be equipped with the best of what they have, given powered exoskeletons to be worn over their armor, and are given first pick of any and all supplies available. Called the Frontier Force, these men and women make up the Underground’s Special Forces.

The Rampart
Considered the capital city of what little the Underground currently holds, the city of Rampart is the landing site of the ship the Underground came to this planet upon. The vessel now serves as a both a fortress and the seat of power, while an entire city has sprung up around it. Major efforts have been taken to camouflage the city, and it is located in a rather isolated location on Dacyira’s surface. The Rampart’s armored hull makes for a sturdy wall, while what few weapons that remain online makes for excellent artillery, making the Rampart, if it should ever be discovered, the most well defended location under the Underground’s hold.

Brief History:
The Systems Underground started as a group of rebels, discontent with the injustices of the government. They slowly began to grow as they accepted people of all kinds, from criminals, to deserters, to the discontent masses. As long as you had an axe to grind with the government, you were welcome to the Underground. Just about everyone within the Underground, save for the children, have a mark on their head for one reason or another. The Underground’s acceptance of just about anyone and everyone obviously began to draw the ire of, well… just about anyone and everyone. The Underground was soon whittled down to size, and what few survivors that were left, fled onboard their only surviving vessel, the Rampart.

After a long journey, the Underground was short on supplies and fuel, and simply by chance, came upon the world of Daycira years before its general discovery. Deeming it a suitable place to set down roots in as they had pretty much nowhere else to go, they landed the Rampart down on the planet’s surface, and from there they began to rebuild, though only after a civil conflict due to differences in how to lead the colony. The Underground is currently in the process of creating its own governmental system, while an Interim President currently manages affairs. Ever afraid of being discovered, the Underground has kept the site of its new fledgling colony remote and well hidden, but with the arrival of so many others, it may be only a matter of time before they are found.

Other:
Question, am I allowed to play a Pantheon? The individuals of the Pantheon would obviously not be as powerful as a single one of another character's god, but all together they would be equal.

EDIT: Also, would I possibly be able to play as a nation without a god/whose god had been killed?
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