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Behold, thus the foul xeno is born...

:
Around two hundred fifty years ago it was, I guess, when things gone wrong on Alaitoc... The civil war caused about fifty skilled Aspect Warriors to join the Eternity Circut, and another three hundred noblemen to leave their beloved home in haste, banished by the Prophets' edict.

All this happened because of a small, lonely backwater Lileathian World rediscovered some time ago. Everyone hoped for their endless travel finally coming to an end, yet there was no end of mirth which stepped into our hearts... Until The Autarch recieved a report from a vanguard sent there : The land we hoped to be our new homeworld... Was colonised already by human scrouge !

This is what split our noble Society in two. Most of us, filled with hate and disappointment, were the first to raze human settlements and eradicate all of inhabitants, yet there was an enlighted few which thought about collaborating with The Young Race, which would eventually lead to creation of a peaceful asylum. Arguments lasted for years, but then a time came, when the first shuriken was launched, its owner led by an ancient desire of blood. It was this sin that caused the war, short yet intensive. Those opposing the violence against humans were slaughtered, survivors banished never to see home again. Sad times were about to come.

My parents were ones of the banished, too. I was born on a Craftworld, yet my childhood used to pass on some obscure Rogue Trader, where they were seeking refugee along with few outcasts as well. Years were passing rapidly while I was growing up, earning for a daily bread as a security member and a scout, not counting many lesser jobs I was participating in. My former life was filled with blood, sweat and rotgut, it was intensive and rather careless, something young Eldar dream of these days. However, my father didn't forget about our home traditions, in which I was raised, too. Yet, finally something cracked inside me. I suddenly felt that all the routine present in a Craftworld I heard about, the Paths, the Duty were something... right. Right for a member of our Elder Race. It's a feeling hard to describe to you, humans. Having my head filled with these thoughts, someday catching the opportunity, I've left the Rogue Trader, striving to find way back home.

Many years have passed while I was seeking any clues. What I've found was much not that I was looking for. On some devastated planet (you, humans, call it "Hive", for it's truly a hive of the corrupted ones), I've got ambushed by foul men twisted by Chaos influence. I fought, I ran, yet there were too many of them, and I was lonely wandering the polluted wastelands. My life flashed before my eyes and I thought it was the last moment of it.

Suddenly, gunshots.
When I finally regained senses, I noticed that every vile mutant is dead and lying ravaged on the dark sand. What's more, there was an extraordinary woman of your kind in some golden armor (quite beautiful handiwork for a human, indeed) standing above me. She was muttering something about "xenos" (later on I realized it's the offending word standing for "non-human") which don't deserve to live and "inquisition" (as I had to understand later, some warband of killers hunting ones of their kind tainted by Chaos, slaying demons and my fellow men as well !). She gave me a choice - I'll be killed right away and my Spirit Stone will be smashed to bits (how could she know about Spirit Stone ?), or I'll have to live as her servant. I made my choice. The wierd woman introduced herself as Lady Inquisitor Pistis Sophia. Suddenly I realized that my life was pushed into the path of blood and I won't know peace anymore.

Now I'm sitting here in that huge hall, without my Crystal taken by that lady, but with some tricky device on my neck - I was told that it's meant to explode if I'll lack obedience. How barbaric ! I wonder, will I ever return to Alaitoc ? What else has to come upon me ? Why have I ever left that Rogue Trader ?

No time to ask more questions. Lady Sophia is coming again... And she's not alone. Seems like it's the time to know my colleagues. Or maybe, captors ?

Whether one or another, I somehow feel that the rivers will run red.

Name: Pass
Origin: Mind Cleansed
Career & Rank: Imperial Psyker - Neonate
Gender: Female

XP Granted: 950
XP Spent: 900

(*) indicates XP-bought starting skills/talents/advancements.

Characteristics:

Weapon Skill: 20
Ballistic Skill: 30
Strength: 30
Toughness: 43
Agility: 30
Intelligence: 40
Perception: 40
Willpower: 50*
Fellowship: 11

Skills:

Speak Language (Low Gothic) (Int)
Literacy (Int)
Invocation (WP)
Psyniscience (Per)
Intimidate (S)
Forbidden Lore (Daemonology) (Int)
Trade (Soothsayer) (Fel)
Deceive (Fel)
Awareness (Per)*

Skills treated as Basic:

Common Lore (Tech) (Int)
Survival (Int)

Talents:

Melee Weapon Training (Primitive)
Pistol Training (Laser)
Pistol Training (SP)
Jaded
Dark Soul
Paranoia*
Psy Rating 1
Psy Rating 2*
Meditation*

Traits:

Engram Implantation
Failsafe Control
Imperial Conditioning
Through A Mirror Darkly
A Shadow Over Thy Soul*
Sanctioned Psyker (Witch Prickling)
Malignancy (Dark-Hearted)

Psychic Powers:

Fearful Aura
Weapon Jinx
Staunch Bleeding
Unnatural Aim
Distort Vision
Healer*
Chameleon*

Insanity Points: 11 (Unsettled)
Corruption Points: 14 (Tainted)
Wounds:: 11
Fate Points (Total): 3
Fate Points (Available): 0

Gear:

Psykana Mercy Blade
Compact Laser Pistol, 1 charge pack
Hardened Bodyglove
Data Slate
Emperor's Tarot
Pack of lho-sticks (Poor)
Lighter

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

SIR, reporting for service, SIR!

The meat:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The story:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Teledahn is a garrison world, practically a planet-wide boot camp, providing competent, trained cadres of Guardsmen all over the Imperium in the form of its Expeditionary Regiments. Their soldiers favour massed infantry tactics, backed with artillery, armour and, most notably, generous quantities of chemical weapons. Every soldier in their regiments has his own gas mask, though with the multitude of providers of them, it's rare to see the same model used twice in even the same squad.
Having previously worked as a freight driver on Teledahn, Trooper Halsted had relatively recently been inducted into the re-formed 5th Expeditionary, sent off to fight in some corner of the Imperium or other. On a routine stop-over at Magna Delta, the regiment was given shore leave while the transport fleet resupplied. Doing as any true-blooded Guardsmen do on leave, they wasted no time in locating all the local pubs, promptly occupying them and digging in around their stocks of alcohol. Halsted and company had the poor (or perhaps great) luck to pick a place where a certain inquisitor's agent was involved in negotiations with some local gang lord or other. The negotiations turned sour and bar brawl turned to gunfight without much in between. By the end of it all, of all the parties involved, Halsted and the inquisitor's agent had been the only ones to remain standing. Since then he'd been recommended for service to said inquisitor, likely saving him from investigation by the Commissariat.
Physically, Halsted is a fit man by the standard of most Imperial worlds. At 36 standard years of age, he stands 167 cm tall, and weighs in at 63 kg. He has tanned skin, close-cropped black hair and keen, attentive grey eyes. Aside from the regimental tattoo, he also sports an Imperial Aquila tattoo on the right side of his neck. He typically dresses in the uniform of his old regiment, a light-grey shirt and black pants. When necessary, he puts on the light brown Guard-issue flak armour as well, and his gas-mask typically isn't far out of his reach.

Not much of a history, but we can't all be Eldar...

Here are my stats (rolled using the character generator)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

As for the story, I have to think up something, I will send it tomorrow.

Re-posting complete character sheet:

Crunch:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Fluff:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Background:
Lazerus (Laz for friends, not that there are any remaining) can't really remember when his "career" really started. His homeworld, Heterodyne was nominally a mechanicus domain, but for the most part the tech-priests kept to their own agenda, leaving rest of the planet on it's own. Where there is a feudal system there is nobility, and where there is nobility there is need for... "removing" some of it's members so the others may prosper. And thus the "death bussines" prospers as well. Laz was trained since he was a kid, and by the time he was old enough to realize what is this all about he was also smart enough to realize that it was "unwise" to refuse people who kill others on daily basis. And so at age of 20-something Lazerus ended up living a life of an assassin - at least when he was called for.

And then everything changed over the course of one "job". The first sign of something went wrong was the fact that security was much tighter than it should. The second was the fact that the "mark" refused to lay down dead once shot - apparently the target was a tech-priest, the shot ricochetted from one of his metal augmentations, and hell hath no fury. In the end Laz somehow managed to flee the place, and then used all the favours he could muster, and all the money he could spare to get off the planet. He spent next fifteen years jumping all over Calixis Sector trying to shake off people that said cog-head sent after him. Recently his throne amounts started to look low, and thus Lazerus spent what he had left on restocking on proper equipment and set out to look for another job. And apparently he found one, or rather "it" found him. He didn't know at first that it was the Inquisition, but refusing afterwards would be stupid, and at least the pay was good.

Looks:
Around 1 meter 84 centimeters tall, and weighing 69 kilograms. His skin has a dark tan, the hair is black and the eyes blue. His face is pretty unremarkable, sans recently grown short beard, but during the time of his journey around the Sector he has developed a nervous tic (cheek muscles twitching) due to stress. He wears a black bodyglove suit, and a cloak on top of that. The cloak appears normal on quick glance, but in reality it's a thin layer of impregnated material hiding the protective mesh cloak (except for the hood) which protects Lazerus' body and arms. On the inside there are two big pockets - left one conceals his sword and shotgun, while right one holds hunting rifle when disassembled (he wears it slung on the back when assembled) - and several smaller ones for ammunition and other things. In the heel of left boot he hides a knife.

I can haz divination naow? :P

Quote from: Xander Morhaime on August 29, 2009, 06:19

And now for something completely different:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)
One guy to shoot them lots,
One guy to snipe them,
One girl to warp-fry them,
One guy to kick them in the nuts,
And in the darkness, rob them.
One guy to fix our gear,
One guy to bless it.
One xeno to die horribly,
And trip all the traps
On the world of Magna Delta,
Where the Cog-Heads dwell.

(Okay, so there's too many of you and you messed up the rhythm. I hope you're happy.)

Did I ever mention that Xander was the other person that was involved in creation of Doomprayer? :D

Please, remember that combat situation and initiative orders are done for now, and you can post whenever you want.

Chaosforge Forum

General => Play-By-Forum => Graveyard => Topic started by: Silhar on August 26, 2009, 03:03