It's been three years. Three years since our ranks were shattered, our Brothers brought to their knees at the hands of those too righteous and ignorant to understand we weren't the enemy. They call us heretic and traitor, they say the Emperor has turned his back on us, that we have been cast from his light forever. We are damned.
But for all their righteousness, all their glory in the Emperor's name, what difference have they truly made? The Ruinous Powers grow stronger by the day, and we have witnessed it firsthand. Worlds burn, billions die, and even the greatest amongst the Emperor’s champions have been powerless to stop them.
But we have also seen them defeated, cast down by their own instruments of terror. I have witnessed monsters who appeared to be otherwise unstoppable, lying broken at our feet. For our enemies are as vulnerable to their own weapons as we are, and it is this vulnerability we must exploit if there is to be any hope.
We are damned. But if that is what it takes, if this is the path we must walk… so be it.
Standing a modest 7 feet tall outside his armor, Cato’s deep emerald green eyes contrast the ebony complexion of his skin and crimson tribal tattoos that pattern his body. The only hair on his head is a thin black goatee that he has keeps groomed at all times.
Cato has always made a point to keep his kit in pristine condition, the Emperor would expect no less. Since being declared Excommunicate Traitoris however, such maintenance has become nearly impossible. His Aquila patterned armor looks to be in better condition than most, but despite his best efforts its appearance has still degraded with time.
Background & Personality:
Cato grew up in the village of Irman, located on one of the larger northern islands of the deathworld Neutra. The people of Irman were very superstitious, and their worship of the God Emperor was filled with numerous myths and legends. They viewed each coming of the Astartes as a gift from the heavens, and to have one from their tribe selected to journey back to the stars was the greatest honor that could be bestowed upon them. However, should no youth from the village be chosen, it was believed to be a terrible omen and a curse would linger over the tribe for an entire generation. It was for this reason that the village of Irman had a strict tradition of grooming their first-born sons in an attempt to provide the best possible candidates.
Cato was not so lucky. As the second son of his house, his place was to join the hunters of the tribe, learning to fend off vicious predators and supporting the needs of the village. When the time came for the Relictors to return, Cato would not even be given an opportunity, his eldest brother Davos would be the only boy from their house to be presented. The rules surrounding this tradition were strictly followed, and the Astartes didn't mind. Having the villagers separate the wheat from chaff for them only made the recruitment process more convenient. But Cato would not be deterred, each night his dreams were filled with images of a hulking figure descending from the heavens to lift him up. Seeing his own reflection in the polished ceramite, he knew this was to be his destiny.
On that fateful day, as the ground quaked and roaring balls of fire pierced the horizon, Cato knew it was time. At the heart of the village the entire tribe had gathered around the two hulking figures that stepped out from their vessel. The tribal Chief stepped foward to present the candidates, Davos among them, to be examined by the Astartes and Cato knew he had to act now or his dream would be lost forever. Pushing his way through the dense crowd he broke through to the other side, and breaking into a full sprint ran straight towards his brother. The crowd was in uproar as they shouted at Cato to come back. Davos turned to see what the commotion was about, but before he even got a glimpse of what was happening Cato's fist met squarely with his brother's jaw.
Everyone immediately fell silent as Davos toppled over into the dirt. The two massive figures looked down upon Cato, the emotionless stares from their helmets cut through his nerves like daggers. The silence lasted for what felt like an eternity until... laughter. One of the Astartes broke into a howl, "You have a lot of guts son!" he exclaimed as he reached down and placed his hand on Cato’s head, "Come boy, your life begins today…”
That was 65 years ago and Cato never looked back. As he advanced through his Astartes training he showed great promise and quickly advanced to the rank of Battle-Brother of the 5th company. Many years later, upon meeting De Marche, who would later lead the Relictors on their first path towards damnation, he quickly fell in line with the ideals presented by the radical Inquisitor. He understood first hand that sometimes you had to break the rules and go against the established system in order to achieve your goals, and while the Imperium may not approve of their methods at the time, Cato was confident that they would change their stance once the results of their methods were proven true.
When De Marche was executed and the Chapter shattered at the hands of the Grey Knights, everything changed. Cato’s idealism transformed into a grim resolve, unwavering in his conviction, he saw the actions against his brothers as misguided fear and ignorance. As he and his fellow survivors fled to the Eye of Terror he swore an oath, that he would open the eyes of the Imperium, even if it cost him every drop of blood in his body. For to abandon his ideals now would mean that the deaths of his Brothers would be in vain.
Cato is a Tactical Marine. Willing to nominate self as specialist unless there is a more suitable candidate.
Cato wears MK VII Aquila Power Armor and carries a standard loadout of frag grenades, krak grenades, and spare ammo.
Bolter, bolt pistol and combat blade.
Last edited by Deloth; 03-02-17 at 11:21 PM.