Name: Elias Lengen.
Appearance: More rugged in his looks than Tobias, his eyes are a duller, sad hazel, his hair a darker shade of blonde. Broader in chin, nose and cheeks, though with the same, thin mouth and dark brows. His hair is a darker shade of blonde, unruly though not unkempt, with a thin, well-groomed beard covering his jawline and chin. He is taller than Tobias, his shoulders are wider, his hands larger. Though the more physically imposing of the pair, Elias has an infectious smile, his teeth white and pearly, always accompanied by a peal of deep, echoing laughter.
Personality: Elias is blisteringly proud - Of his family, of Elysia, of himself. He lacks the hotheadedness of his brother, despite being as capable, as intelligent; taking no particular joy in killing, though he is ruthlessly salacious - Leaving a string of bastards and undesirables across a dozen worlds. Charming, Elias is a renowned womaniser amongst the Elysian Hundred-and-Seventy-Third, a reputation that he carries with a hearty grin. Amicable and generous, Elias is quick to forgive - Though, never when his family have been insulted. His brother is the hammer, and Elias the anvil - Their bond unbreakable, their faith in one another unquenchable.
Background: Elias was weaned on tales of heroism, of adventures in the distant stars, on the fame of his family. In the scholam, he excelled at sports - An excellent pugilist, a better sprinter and a laurelled swimmer. His popularity, amongst the students and the tutors, was unrivalled. To his father, he was a source of pride and joy, to his brother he was a role model, and on times, a protector. When Tobias wound himself into trouble, it was always Elias's fists that proved the solution. Despite the tales, despite the medals and honours that his family bore, Elias was uninterested in war. He wanted to see the stars, yes, but not from behind a las-rifle. Fate, so they say, is inexorable.
From a young age, Elias was infatuated with a fellow student, raven-haired, wild-eyed Theodora, and to him, no star shone brighter. Their love was pure, often found hand-in-hand, smiling, laughing, their happiness unbound. She was kind, gentle to Tobias, charitable, quick of wit - And, at eighteen, her and Elias were formally betrothed. Pregnancy soon swelled Theodora's belly, and their happiness continued to soar.
However, tragedy struck. The child was born, cold and lifeless. The happiness in Theodora was sapped, and though Elias was a constant presence, she turned away from him. Into the congregation of a mad preacher she went - Donning the robes of a repentant - And a scant year and half after their marriage, utterly devoted herself to a pilgrimage. Onwards to Holy Terra, she told Elias, and when I return, we'll be happy again, our children will laugh, and play, and run with the horses.
In the ensuing months, Tobias slowly, but surely, convinced Elias to join the PDF. Four hard years followed, Elias reddening his hands with blood, begriming his face with dust and ash. Elias waited for his wife, his hearts kindled with hope, but she never returned. Four years of waiting, of butchering and protecting, were wasted away. Once again, Tobias's persuasion proved paramount - And both enrolled themselves into the ranks of the Imperial Guard. Far and wide, they travelled, the Imperial Aquila proud and defiant above them. Worlds blurred together, campaigns became an endless tide - But onwards they surged, unstoppable, the Regiment finding itself decorated and victorious.
Onto Prolial. Onto the Orks.
Equipment: Elias is studious and meticulous, keeping his equipment - His grenades, his serrated combat knife, his rebreather - Daubed crudely with golden wings - And flak armour well-maintained.
Weapons: His las-gun is bare, though polished and oiled, and he also wields an antiqued autopistol - Old and weathered, though nonetheless deadly - Preferring the reliability of it to a las-pistol. This, he'll tell you merrily, was a gift from his father, who once carried it himself, on a dozen worlds. Elias has christened it, since it came into his belongings, Theodora.
Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.
"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"
'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'