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post #11 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-04-15, 06:19 PM
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Requesting the Heavy Weapons position. Will place application in this message box depending on how busy I am at work today.

If you need to get a hold of me my Skype is zhnthebox
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post #12 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-04-15, 07:00 PM
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Name: Nathanael Shethar

Age: 204

Chapter of Origin: Dark Angels

Type of Marine: Chaplain, former Apothecary

Personality: Nathanael is a pensive, introspective character, who always finds time to search his own mind and soul for any flaws, and does his best to excise them with his considerable will. Though this renders him somewhat taciturn at times, it also makes him a perfect candidate for Chaplain – one so familiar at hunting his own weaknesses is adept at seeking them out in others.
Serious, Nathanael finds little time for small talk, but delights in discussing more meaningful topics, whether they are practical and tactical or theoretical and philosophical, having partaken in conversations and debates with his brothers that have, on occasion, lasted weeks. He does his best to present himself as open to his brethren should they seek any help, spiritual or otherwise – possessing a poetic turn of phrase, and a black, morbid sense of humour that has uplifted and offended in nearly equal measure.
Nathanael’s will is iron, and combined with his training in the hallowed Reclusiam of The Rock, has rendered him all but immune to the manipulation or reading of the witch and psyker – it also allows him to push himself beyond his physical limits should the situation call for it, but also makes him hard to dissuade once he has set his mind on a course. His trust and respect, though hard-won, are prizes not to be considered lightly. The same is to be said of his hatred. Zealous but not unreasonable, Nathanael will only rarely channel the full force of his belief and personality, preferring to lead through encouragement and loyalty than fear. However, like his gene-father before him, though Nathanael may be slow to anger, once roused his fury is lightning-fast and unrelenting.

Physical Appearance: Unarmoured, Nathanael stands taller than most astartes, at 7’8”, with a build that would be considered bulky and muscular for a human, but is lean and long-limbed for a marine – his power armour increases his height to 8’3”.
His skin, what little of it is unmarked, is unhealthily pale – unmarred flesh is seen only in patches, however, as his body is covered in a web of welts and thin, interlacing scar tissue from his regular sessions of self-flagellation, fresh application of whip and salts ensuring that they never fully heal.
The marine has left his face intentionally unmarked, with looks that could be considered too delicate to be plastered on a skull harder than ceramite – his features are sharp and noble, with a shapely, defined nose, thin lips and large, dark eyes that stare unwaveringly at the subject of his attention. Utterly unmarred by age, Nathanael’s face has not changed since he was a neophyte, but it is rarely fully visible, as even when unarmoured it will be partially obscured or shrouded by either a cowl or his long, black hair.
In contrast to his princely, youthful features, Nathanael’s voice is deep, coming straight from his chest, and varies from a low murmur when talking to a strangely sonorous roar when reciting litanies in battle, perfectly suited to the role of instilling inspiration or fear as needed.

Armour Appearance: Nathanael is clad in a suit of ancient Mk. 2 Power Armour that dates back to the almost-forgotten era of the Great Crusade – passed down through generation after generation of the chapter, it has seen much use. Now, due to its prestige and venerability, only those who have truly proven themselves beyond doubt in the service of the Sons of The Lion are given the privilege of its protection.
Due to its millennia of use and the many owners it has had, the armour has undergone heavy modifications – little of the original armour remains, due to the stress and wear and tear that in the various theatres of war it finds itself in. Generally, the replacement parts and plates have been of better quality than the original, in order to maintain the suit’s integrity for future generations, lending it a better degree of protection than most suits of power armour. Most notably, its neck joint has been replaced with a more modern piece, giving free rotation of the helmet, and the armour’s joints have been shored up with additional couters, tassets and gardbraces, lending it additional defence and giving it the appearance akin to the Knights of Caliban, themselves modelled on the knights of Old Terra.
The helmet, modified by artificers who exclusively serve the Reclusiam, has had its face-plate modified into the motif of a slit-eyed, metallic skull, its grill forming a leering approximation of a mouth, and is surrounded by a ring of studs that bolt it onto the helm beneath – this was made especially for Nathanael, and he values it both as a tool of faith and terror, and as a sign of the esteem in which his chapter holds him. It is not painted white, but left black. Otherwise, the armour is fairly undecorated bar ribbing on its extra plating, as much a defensive buff as decoration, designed to aid in the deflection of shot and blade – he also has three purity seals, all of which are attached to the bottom of his right pauldron. The only other embellishment is a set of hooks and rings built into the ceramite that allow him to hang censers and holy texts.
Nathanael wears long, flowing robes that, unlike most of his brethren in the Reclusiam, are a shade of green far darker than the armour of the Unforgiven, and are also far more extensive in their coverage than most, allowing him to be utterly covered in them should he rest his arms by his sides – made of a high-quality flak-weave, though they offer no additional protection, the robes are hard to damage and easy to repair. They are useful for allowing him to conceal his armaments and personal effects beneath their bulk. Attached to his belt and into the hooks and rings on his armour are censers set alight only for ceremony and battle, along with two tomes, one holy, one unmarked.

Weapons and Equipment: Nathanael’s primary weapon is not, as is for most chaplains, a Crozius, but a mighty relic blade Naful Malakh – shaped like a zweihander, unlike most weapons of the 1st Legion Naful is devoid of winged angel motifs, with a blade well over 6’ in length and a half-hand in width. It is a symbol of the knowledge and craftsmanship of ages past, its power generator hidden within its mass, and a useable grip that extends nearly a foot above the hilt (above which sit two barbs to prevent an opponent’s blade from sliding onto Nathanael’s hand), lending it greater versatility. The sword is devoid of décor or engraving, its blade made of a dark, unknown alloy that has an oily sheen when viewed at certain angles, its hilt and handle are made of the same material, indicating it to have been forged from a single piece. It rests in a scabbard on Nathanael’s back.
The chaplain is also equipped with a crozius, its head that of the Chapter’s symbol; a hooded figure with angel wings, as opposed to the standard Imperial Aquila – as long as his arm, designed to smash rather than cut, it is a useful weapon to the chaplain, but not one that sees much use due to his choice of primary armament. To Nathanael it is more a symbol of office than a weapon of war, and spends more time at his belt than in his hands. It is also the most modern piece of equipment that he carries.
For ranged combat, Nathanael carries into battle a combi-plasma based on the Tigrus-pattern boltgun, with a straight magazine and underslung plasma chamber – this is the most heavily-decorated of his weapons, bearing engravings of the names of the members of the Dark Angels’ Reclusiam to wield it in battle before him – his own name has been added to it, and there is space yet for many more to be added after he has passed on.
As a sidearm, Nathanael has a reliable, if somewhat bulky, Mk. 1 Phobos bolt pistol, though it rarely sees use.
Otherwise, distributed about his person, Nathanael carries two tomes, one of which is filled with the various litanies and rites ascribed to his office, and the second of which is far smaller, and never opened. He carries various incenses and oils to burn in his censers, a lighter, a small toolkit for his weapons and armour, and ammunition. Tucked into a secret holder strapped to his breastplate, under the armpit, is where he keeps both his pistol, so that it might stay hidden, and a nine-headed whip, kept neatly coiled. Hanging around his neck, though usually kept under his robes, is his rosarius, shaped into an emblem of a winged sword – though small, its quality and artifice are of obvious excellence.

Background: When taken into the chapter, the young Nathanael was unusually sociable, with even the excessive gravitas and humourless sincerity of his surroundings and training unable to repress his natural flair for finding common ground with nearly any who he met. Seventy-four years of service in the Apothecarion, standing by helplessly as his brothers died in battle, often unable to offer them any remedy bar the Emperor’s Peace, began to wear on the even-tempered and gregarious Nathanael, becoming increasingly bitter and introspective as the futility of his existence and his own mortality became increasingly dominant aspects of his regular thought processes.
In spite of becoming quieter and ill-given to prolonged conversation, increasingly refusing to engage in any meaningful discourse with his brethren, knowing that he would only have to pull the gene-seed from their corpses once they fell in battle, Nathanael did not lose his naturally poetic turn of phrase – a little purple for some, but perfect for the Reclusiam. His calling came during the battle for Telassar, a world that was a mineral-rich ashy wasteland and whose governor had decided that the Imperial creed was no longer to his liking. While assaulting an emplacement near the base of the hive city of Telassar Primus, serving in the Reclusiam’s command squad, his commander, Chaplain Jedaiah, was struck down by a plasma-blast that came from a rebel bunker. Even as the Chaplain fell, Nathanael snatched up his crozius and started bellowing oaths at the enemy, urging his men forward and assuming command. Leading the charge, Nathanael cut a bloody swathe through the rebels of Telassar, Jedaiah’s units accepting his command and capturing the bottom five tiers of the Hive City before halting to await reinforcement.
After the battle of Telassar was concluded in the Dark Angel’s favour, the attention of the Reclusiam turned to Nathanael – after thorough investigation and screening, his purity and diligence was seen as flawless, and he was promoted to Chaplain, taking Jedaiah’s Crozius and Rosarius as his own, and was awarded his armour for his service. Since then Nathanael has forced himself out of his shell, trying to re-use and re-hone his social skills, but those who knew him before would still know Nathanael to be a changed man – though again talkative, his nature has become altogether more focused and serious. He is often used as an emissary for the Dark Angels when they must communicate with bodies outside their own chapter, a diplomat for both his ability to persuade and intimidate.
Nathanael’s tempering was during the Siege of Vraks twenty-eight years ago, when he joined in the assault conducted by fully half of the chapter on the Vraks Starport, fighting his most hated foe, the apostates who had turned away from the Emperor’s Light and Word – Chaos Space Marines, arch-heretics of the mysterious Alpha Legion. Throwing himself and his men again and again at the traitor’s lines, beating down traitor after traitor with his crozius, roaring litanies of hatred and commands in equal measure – over the course of the eight-day battle Nathanael personally claimed the lives of over a dozen Alpha Legionnaires. Battered and bleeding, his armour dented and rent open, Nathanael and his men weathered the devious traitors’ counter-attack as the Deathwing claimed the final victory, crushing the last of the enemy marines beneath an iron fist.
For this, Nathanael was awarded the use of Naful Malakh, with which he slew many enemies of the chapter before his seconding to the Deathwatch – why this happened, he will not say, but the Chaplain appears to have no problem with this unusual transfer to outside his chapter. It is, he suspects, an attempt to foster better relations between his chapter and the Inquisition, between whom he knows there is bad blood.

Last edited by Nol; 04-07-15 at 12:07 AM.
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post #13 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-04-15, 08:49 PM
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Name: Nicodeme Rien

Age: 184

Chapter of Origin: Marines Errant

Type of Marine: Battle Brother

Personality: Generally of a more reserved nature, Rien has lived his life sharpening his mind and body to deal with the patience of waiting for the most opportune moments during a hunt. Like many of his chapter, Rien is quick in his desire to take the fight to his foe's but never to the point of throwing all sense of tactics to the wind. Decades of void warfare and boarding actions have caused Rien to favour steadfast courage and honour, wherein he has a distinct dislike for those who are arrogant in their skill and boisterous in their standing. This is due to having seen good people killed when left unsupported by allies looking to find glory or make a name for themselves.

When not on a field of battle, Rien enjoys the comradery of others; to share in his experiences and better understand how to end his foes. This cannot so much be said of reveling in exploits, for though Rien understands the importance of great deeds, to bog oneself down with the glory of an action breeds arrogance, and from that it is not hard to look down on others. During the Corinthian Crusade Rien experienced some of this first hand, where some from other chapters might look down on his own brothers for not having as long or as illustrious a history. This, however, can also come from jealousy; such as in the honour the Ultramarines rightly gave to the Marines Errant for their actions during the Crusade.


Physical Appearance: Tall and broad, Rien stands half over seven feet tall and more than half that in width. His skin is a sun-burnt off red, from hard years spent on a world beset by two suns and little in the way of shade. Rien's head is bald, bearing tribal marks and trophy kills from his life before ascension as one of the Emperor's warriors. Of his body, Rien's arms and chest are pockmarked with scar tissue and service tattoo's. His left shoulder is a mess of pinkish scar tissue, acid burns from a Dark Eldar weapon a decade ago.

Nicodeme Rien's face is a map tracing his service through the decades. Slate gray eyes are framed by a heavy brow, craggy cheeks, and a squat nose which has seen itself broken and reset on several occassions. His mouth is extended on the right side by an old scar, made by an Ork blade during the Corinthian Crusade. The symbol of Rien's chapter, a blazing comet striking a startburst, adorns the left side of his neck; a V of the fifth company within the starburst.


Background: Born to the desert death world of Drask near the edge of Ultima Segmentum; Rien, or rather the child that would become Nicodeme Rien, spent his early years learning to fight both the deadly denizens of the endless deserts and other nomadic tribes. At the age of thirteen, Rien was selected to take part in the aspirant trials, of which he and four others were taken from their homeworld and into the stars. As a neophyte and then scout, Rien aided the Marines Errant by pin-pointing key targets and holding points so or supporting other Imperial elements. In the year 689 Rien was elevated to the rank of battle brother following the assassination of a renegade sorcerer leading a cult in an attempt to unleash a warp storm upon the system of Silgo; for this Rien earned the right to bear a name, of which he chose and hos borne the name Nicodeme Rien ever since.

Nearly ten years after becoming a full battle brother, Rien took part in the Corinthian Crusade that lasted from 698 to 705. The Marines Errant, alongside five more chapters and under the leadership of Marneus Calgar, persecuted the crusade against the Ork warlord of Skargor the Despoiler and retake the Corinth system from the greenskins clutches. In 703 the Marines Errant came to the aid of the Ultramarines third company, and following the crusades end Rien was one of his chapter who volunteered to pursue surviving Ork ships and end their threat; an action which would take a further forty years and see a further eight systems liberated. Before the crusades end, Rien was honoured to meet the Ultramarine chapter ancient Galatan, who would later become the hero of the crusade, personally slaying Skargor at the cost of his own life.

After returning to the Marines Errant fleet in 745, Rien served with distinction and in 778 he and the Marines Errant fifth company spent the next six years hunting Eldar pirates across the Ghoul Stars wherein Rien proved that his chapters proficiency in boarding actions was not limited to Orks. In 788 Rien was elevated to the rank of veteran, following actions against Ork raids across the Horlaan and Piunt systems that would go on for three years.

In 814 the Marines Errant fifth company answered an ancient call of aid from the rogue trader house of Ecale. Together they sought out and destroyed human pirate elements harrassing the shipping lanes near the Ghoul Stars for ten years.

It was in 839 that Nicodeme caught the eye of the inquisition, when he and elements of the fifth company survived an ambush by Dark Eldar reavers intended to capture the veteran and his brothers as pit slaves during the defence of the Imperial world of Juron VI against an Ork invasion. Rien and his brothers were able to not only survive the ambush, but they in turn used it to their advantage and forced the Dark Eldar to engage Ork forces and bleed both xeno's elements before crushing the remnants.

In 848 Rien was officially seconded to the deathwatch in lieu of his extensive experience against xeno's species.


Armour Appearance: Nicodeme Rien wears a void hardened MkVI Corvus armour, its original beaked helm long since replaced with a MkVII Aquila pattern after suffering irreparable damage during the ambush on Juron VI. The left shoulderguard was slab of studded ceramite prior to being upgraded for deathwatch service. His greaves come up to the knee and terminate as spikes each with a skull leering outward. His chestplate bears the mark of his chapter, but this will be lost once he undergoes the rite to paint his armour in the colour of the deathwatch.


Weapons and Equipment: Bolter, bolt pistol, chainsword, specialist ammunition, frag and krak grenades

Damnation is paved on good intentions; subtle and sugar coated or blunt and honest
A hero is someone who steps up when everyone else backs down.
Popularity is what people strive for when they lack the strength to be themselves.


Seriously, is it really that hard to write reviews without spoilers?

Reporting Posts - read this

Last edited by darkreever; 04-04-15 at 11:37 PM.
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post #14 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-04-15, 08:58 PM Thread Starter
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Looking good Nol and Darkreever. I'll add your characters into the accept part.

When you figure them out Reever just edit in your personality and age.

Already, you exalt me for my triumphs, When I ask only that you remember me for my treacheries

Victory is nothing more than survival.
It carries no weight of honour or worth beyond what we ascribe to it.
If you wish to grow wise, learn why brothers betray brothers. - Khyron, First Grand Master of the Eighth Brotherhood.
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post #15 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-04-15, 09:12 PM
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Huh, thought I had put those in. Have them both, will edit them in in a few hours.

Damnation is paved on good intentions; subtle and sugar coated or blunt and honest
A hero is someone who steps up when everyone else backs down.
Popularity is what people strive for when they lack the strength to be themselves.


Seriously, is it really that hard to write reviews without spoilers?

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post #16 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-06-15, 05:33 AM
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Name: Veyros Uk'Reltor

Age: 187

Chapter of Origin: Carcharadons (http://warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Carcharodons)

Type of Marine: Company Champion

Personality: Veyros is confident in his abilities to the point of arrogance, and can at times irk others with what can be perceived as over confidence. His skills and pure strength and power act to only embolden his claims and pride however. In terms of his social demeanor he is not the most friendly of battle brothers, it would be easier to describe him as competitive.

Especially within the Death Watch, Veyros feels that it is his responsibility to demonstrate his superiority within his realm of expertise and by extension show the superiority of the Carcharadons. Feeling that his chapter is underrepresented in such specialized forces as the Death Watch and knowing that many of his battle brothers within The Watch have not even had direct dealings with his chapter before.Because the Carcharadons are known mostly by second hand accounts, as many of the official records are sealed as to their involvement, but the wakes of blood are proof of their gruesome and bloody campaigns and as such he has sworn to take glory in the name of his chapter and honor Captain Rykaz with the legacy of noble deeds. He is adherent to orders given to him, but his execution of those orders is often carried out with the trademark savagery of the Carcharadons, which can sometimes draw criticism from those around him who would prefer a more surgical and precise approach at times over the near animalistic slaughter that can be left in Veyros' wake.

Physical Appearance: The first thing that often strikes those that see Veyros is his ashen grey skin. The second thing that registers is how massive he is, large, even for an Astartes at near 8 feet tall and broader than most of his brethren. His eyes also carry an oddity of his gene seed, ink black eyes, without iris and giving the visage of a primordial predator, his teeth formed into triangular razor edged fangs add to his startling appearance. Across the right side of his face sits a tribalistic tattoo of a maw of razored teeth, much like the apex predators the Carcharadons are named for.

Background: Kaleris II is a planet that is awash in oceanic front, the whole of the planet derives its life from the perilous Oceans. Veyros lived on the coast of Isla Kalas one of the major islands located in the southern hemisphere of Kaleris II. Subject to rampaging storms, but fully beholden to the seas for their livelihood, Veyros grew up exposed to danger. Wading into knee deep or waist high waterways within the islands river system in order could proven extremely dangerous, as Warukas hid in plain sight, ambush predators lurked in the waters, their scaled hides allowing them to blend near seemlessly into the riverbed, despite the clear waters. Even with the threat of the Waruka, the fish and fresh waters that could be had made the risk worth it. Even still there were always stories of relatives who went to the rivers to fetch fresh water or catch small fish who simply never returned, or returned with gruesome wounds that left them limbless or forced to die an agonizing and slow death. Where the tribes of Kaleris really made their prize catches was the ocean, the warmer seas of the Mayla Sea carried the promise of massive catches, teams of boats would head out in order to capture and kill Waalen, gigantic fish, not entirely dissimilar from ancient Whales, with the exception that they were fish and not mammals. The potential for a feast however was not without risk. There were great beasts of the deep that hunted the Waalen, Urak, the great predators of the deep, massive, primative shark-like monsters that still held control of the oceans of Kaleris II. Tales were known across the planet of the monsters, but they could not be avoided, their survival depended on the Waalen, which meant they would need to risk the domain of the savage Urak. On his fifth deep sea hunt, Veyros encountered his first Urak, the beast nearly capsized one of the largest boats in their fishing fleet, as the beast tore through the hull of the boat it seemed to stare into Veyros' eyes, an empty pool of deep black, without any indication of sorrow, feeling or mercy. The men cast into the water were eaten alive, some in one bite, others taken in pieces, as if the creature reveled in the slaughter and carnage it caused. Despite his young age, at the time only 15, Veyros knew there could be no hesitation in his action. As the men and other young hunters scrambled to their positions on their respective ships, Veyros grabbed his juka, a specialized spear with a rounded edge to the blade and numerous barbs that rend, rip and tear upon removal, perfect for hunting Waalen, but also used to fend off the Uraks. Taking the spear in hand, getting perilously close he slammed the spear into the eye of the beast, as he drove the spear deeper and deeper in the beast thrashed, slamming its tail into the boat and knocking Veyros into the water. The Urak glided away from the boat effortlessly, doubling back with its teeth exposed, its target Veyros. With a desperate kick, the young boy managed to get out of the way just in the nick of time. As the urak passed he grabbed hold of his spear, still sticking out from its ruined and pulped eye. The massive beast thrashed, throwing its head back in order to clamp its massive jaws about the boy and rend him limb from limb. Veyros' grip would not yield, despite the slickness of the water meeting the oily black sludge that passed for blood of the Urak, striving to drive the spear deeper and deeper as they struggled, thrashing about in a dance where one of them would have to die.

The beast dove deep seeking to dislodge the boy, but he would not yield, his life depended on his weapon now, the other hunters could not lend any support as he'd been taken so far from the boats. The ocean seemed to kick up around the surface of the water unnaturally and as the Urak threw itself in the air to dislodge the stubborn child that clung to it, Veyros' eyes caught the glow of engines above them. As they resurfaced again, Veyros could feel the beast beginning to fade in its efforts, the loss of blood beginning to wear on it, but the strain had weakened him as well, he could feel that he was on the brink of letting go, accepting his fate to be devoured. But something within him surged, perhaps just the primative instinct to survive, but he mustered what strength he could and drove his weight into the spear as much as he could. The blade continued to dig deep, the barbs catching on bits of tissue and bone until finally the slow, grinding scraping gave way to a thud and pop that could be heard underwater. The Uraks massive body flailed hard and shook, and then froze in place. Exhausted and weak, the surface began to fade away, sinking listlessly down, the haft of the spear still loosely in his hands, he couldn't bring himself to let go so tired and shocked was his body. The ocean around him then lit up with the glow white blue flame, it illuminated all around, and he could see a perimeter of circling Uraks, waiting to move in on what was now easy prey. A massive hand reached for him and grabbed him, then his world went black as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Captain Rykaz, the boy was impressive, but he is too old by a full cycle to fall within ideal conditions." The massive being clad in white armor spoke, Veyros could do little but look up from a slabsteel table that he was restrained to. "The boy will become one of us, we did not witness his battle with that creature for no reason, the Emperor saw fit to have us find this boy." The monstrously imposing warrior in slate grey turned, his helm was flattened and widened from what he'd seen in pictures, often he'd seen them as blue, or the yellow of those who stood with the Emperor of Mankind eons ago. But Veyros knew who they were. "Astartes..." he whispered to himself in awe of their presence. Taking notice of the boy directly for the first time, Captain Rykaz turned and nodded, removing his helm, his eyes were black, the ink black of the Urak, his skin was a grey, not dissimilar from his armor. The low rumble of his voice confirmed Veyros' thoughts though, "Yes, we are. We are the Carcharadons, we would have you join us as young one, you have shown me you embody our warrior grit." The Captain flashed a dangerous smile, though likely meant to be encouraging, it revealed a row of bright white, sharp, triangular teeth, resembling those of a shark. Veyros again lost consciousness, and when he awoke some weeks later he had already begun his transformation.

The Carcharadons had seemingly by coincidence arrived at Kaleris II as they were in the midst of resupply of both materials and candidates, the Captain Rykaz of the fleet of the Carcharadons noted Veyros' skills as a hunter, his sheer savage will, displayed even at a young age in his 'duel' with the massive Urak. Taken at the eldest age for a candidate Veyros' life was at greater risk than even the other candidates, but such was his potential that Rykaz demanded he be given the gift of gene seed, even if it meant possibly squandering the genetic material or their sire. Rykaz's decision and insistence that Veyros be taken as a recruit initially did not sit well with the Apothecary Majoris Lerak, as he believed there would be other candidates who did not pose the risk of completely failing to develop with the gene seed and other organs necessary to transform into an Astartes. Lerak was nearly proven right as there were complications with the impantation and function of the Ossmodula, it secreted such high levels initially that it very nearly killed Veyros, however, the over saturation from the organ of varying growth hormones and absorption of ceramic materials to create a stronger bone stronger yielded what would become quite the specimen. By the late stages of recruit training, Veyros was nearly as large as some of the smaller battle brothers, and when he had become a fully fledged battle brother, he was among the largest within the Carcharadon fleet he had joined.

When he took up the mantle in combat, Veyros repaid Rykaz faith in him in the blood of the enemies of the Imperium. His savagery was nearly unrivaled, his record of service esteemed. It was at the recommendation of Rykaz that Veyros was sent to the Death Watch, believing that it was the Emperor's wish that he find Veyros, train him and prepare him for his role within the Death Watch.

Armour Appearance: As a fleet based chapter, the Carcharadons utilize whatever is available to them. As such Veyros' armor is no different, utilizing Mk VII chest plate with the greeves of Mk VI Corvus. The gauntlets taken from venerable Mk IV Maximus with a helm of unknown origination, baring a resemblance to a manta ray, with 6 vents in the rebreather/vox (http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/...20110218055343) The pauldrons as well carry embelishment belonging to the chapter, with additional plating affixed to either peak with adamantium studs, providing the appearance of 'waves' to either side of the helm which is decorated with the same maw pattern tattooed on his face.

Weapons and Equipment: Eviscerator ChainSword, Double Edged Chain Sword (Extra CCW), Bolter, Frag and Krak Grenades, Melta Bombs

Last edited by Krymson86; 04-21-15 at 02:42 AM.
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post #17 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-06-15, 06:32 AM
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Might Join this since DnD game seemingly died. *Le Sigh*

Might make an Angels of Iron Character.

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post #18 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-06-15, 08:18 AM
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I joined this forum purely to RP..

And so RP I shall.

Space Wolf Calling in!

------------------------------------------

Name: Valfar Bloodmantle

Age: 41

Chapter of Origin: Space Wolves (Harald Deathwolf's Great Company) (http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Space_Wolves)

Type of Marine: Blood Claw

Personality: Valfar and his fellow Blood Claw pack were particularly infamous among Harald Deathwolf's Great Company for their fiercely animalistic and youthful aggression and their arrogant tongue. Valfar is known to charge in and ask questions later, if at all. This commonly works to his detriment, as it does many of his fellow pack brothers as he will commonly rush towards traps and other dangers without thinking his plans through. However, this leaves him utterly without fear or hesitation and, like many Space Wolves, he relishes the chance to face down against foes far beyond his strength and size.

Though only serving with the Space Wolves for a relatively short length of time, Valfar has found himself particularly loathing the Tau of all of his enemies. He finds their ranged tactics and brilliance on technology cowardly and poncy and often enjoys stripping more physically slight races such as Tau, Eldar and even Imperial Guardsmen down to nothing and brutally beating them to death with his iron fists.

Physical Appearance: Valfar's hair is long and red and darts back like a large wolf's mane or a bursting flame. His face is youthful and fairly unscarred from battle. His dark eyes set deep within his face, giving him a dark, glaring demeanor rather fitting of his aggressive and malicious personality. His long, fanged teeth, a genetic gift of Leman Russ, are often bared in a snarling roar or intimidating grin. Over his right eye, often paints a red war stripe with the blood of his kills.

He speaks not with civility or decorum, instead quite literally growling his threats and insults in a deep, gravelly voice, accented heavily with his Fenrissian origin.

Background: Valfar, like all Space Wolves, was born on the dark, frozen planet of Fenris. Among his tribe, he was both lauded and loathed for his aggressive nature and hostility even towards his own kin. His fierce independence, fiery temper and sheer lack of fear earned him his place among the Space Wolves.

Venturing out in to the wilderness of Fenris, Valfar came across a colossal and aggressive Fenrissian Elk. The beast charged him but the young tribesman was able to use his wit and cunning to dodge the attack. He quickly leaped on to the beast and, with a furious hacking of his axe, removed the creatures head clean from it's body. At that moment, a Wolf Priest of the Chapter had arrived at the village to challenge it's youth. Valfar returned, dragging his trophy behind him. The Wolf Priest looked at Valfar from beneath his cowl. Valfar merely snorted at him, flinging the colossal, bloody antlered head at him. The Wolf Priest merely laughed, naming him Valfar Bloodmantle after his impressive kill and welcoming him to drink from the Cup of Wulfen and undergo the Trial of Morkai and, should he succeed, serve under the legendary Harald Deathwolf and feast and revel in his halls.

Valfar barely survived the trial, almost completely succumbing to his mutated rage. When he finally returned to the Fang, he was a monstrous, beastly shadow of his former human self.

When the Inquisition approached the Space Wolves (gingerly, as they would) and requested that some of their number join the Deathwatch, Valfar willingly offered himself. To him, the Deathwatch was the perfect opportunity to face off against the biggest, most frightening of creatures and bath himself in blood and glory.

Armour Appearance: Valfar bears the power armour of the Deathwatch, a shadowy midnight black with a steel spaulder bearing the I of the Inquisition. On his other shoulder, he bears red pauldron of Harald Deathwolf who's symbol, a black wolf eating the sun, only adds to his menacing appearance. His armour itself is very poorly kept, with it's paintwork chipped and scratched all over and it's deep black tarnished with dirt, grime and the blood of xenos species. Additionally, Valfar's fervorous cultural loyalty has lead to him inscribing runes glorifying his Wolf Lord and his Pack brothers on his right thigh plate.

He never wears a helmet, even when it would be tactically wise to do so, instead choosing to expose himself so that he may look his foe straight in the eye, roar openly at it and paint his face with it's blood after it had fallen. Over his Deathwatch pauldron, he drapes the hide of a Fenrissian Elk which then comes to lie down his back as a cloak and attach beneath his Space Wolf pauldron.

Weapons and Equipment:

- Combat Knife
- Bolt Pistol
- Chainsword
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post #19 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-06-15, 10:35 AM Thread Starter
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will you be adding more to your character sheet Krymson?

Already, you exalt me for my triumphs, When I ask only that you remember me for my treacheries

Victory is nothing more than survival.
It carries no weight of honour or worth beyond what we ascribe to it.
If you wish to grow wise, learn why brothers betray brothers. - Khyron, First Grand Master of the Eighth Brotherhood.
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post #20 of 155 (permalink) Old 04-06-15, 12:59 PM
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Probably revan, it was getting late so i figured I'd put that much up and flesh it out later
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