Bios
Ragnar-
Name: Kayriel Forana
Age: 1460
Race: Eldar
Gender: Female
Appearance: A lithe and slender woman, Kayriel stands at seven feet, three inches with little in the manner of bulk upon her frame, being wiry rather than brutishly bulky. Her eyes are pale green in colour, like grass in the earlier winter. While her hair is cut relatively long, reaching to her upper back, it is a pale, snow white in colour, and has a single long braid on the left side of her head. Her facial features are quite delicate in appearance, with high cheek bones, thin lips, a thin nose, and extremely pale skin. Her general appearance could be described as belonging to a goddess, with beautiful facial features and a attractive body. Like all Eldar, her ears are tapered towards the tips, though her own are slightly longer than many Eldar. She most often wears light armour, in the form of her Aspect warrior armour, in the style of the Howling Banshee. It is bone white in colour, and has a large plume of red upon her helmet; the optical lenses of the helmet are a bright red in colour. When off-duty, she often wears a plain set of casual clothing, befitting an Eldar.
Personality: Being quiet and somewhat reclusive, but not exactly a timid or shy woman, Kayriel prefers to merely keep quiet when in the presence of others rather than talk too often. Generally, she is a fairly joyous person however, and may even be somewhat friendlier than the average Eldar to the other races of the galaxy. Though, she does possess some small amount of the legendary Eldar arrogance and sense of superiority over most of the races. She loathes Necrons, and sees Orks as savages, but she doesn’t wholly condemn the latter. It is somewhat difficult to enrage her, though her anger is a thing best not having turned upon you. For the most part, she can come off as rather snobby, and haughty, due to her privileged upbringing.
She is a psyker of mild skill.
Equipment: Eldar Aspect Guardian, Howling Banshee, armour- Bone white in colour, with accents of blood red. This armour is constructed from flexible plates of wraithbone that allow maximum dexterity to the wearer. The helmet has a large red plume upon the top and back of it, and the facemask is fitted with an amplifier that can be switched on off. The eye lenses of the helmet are blood red in colour.
Power Sword- A thin and ornate power sword in the shape of a sabre, the blade is made from beautifully polished and shaped steel that shines due to the excessive polishing. While the hilt is made from a bone-white coloured piece of wraithbone that has been elegantly sculpted into a hand guard.
Shruiken pistol- An elegantly made weapon, constructed from a mix of red and bone white wraithbone, the former being used to highlight certain parts of the weapon that are most noticeable. The magazine of such a weapon is located just before the grip of the weapon.
Shruiken catapult- A graceful weapon constructed from the same red and bone white colour scheme that the rest of her weapons follow, the red being used to highlight the more noticeable parts of the weapon.
Skills: Swift- All Eldar are far swifter than any human, such a thing is a fact that been proven time after time. This natural swiftness means that Eldar can easily outrun most foes, and outmanoeuvre them in combat of all kinds.
Skilled in close combat- Due to excessive training upon the path of a howling banshee, such a thing means that Kayriel can match blades with even the likes of the Space marines and come out on top. However, it is worth noting that she isn’t the strongest of foes to face, when it comes to raw physical strength.
Skilled in hand-to-hand combat- With skill of melee weapons, often comes skill of hand-to-hand, the art of challenging a foe with nothing more than one’s own hand and feet. Mixed with the natural grace and swiftness of the Eldar, such combat is often graceful and fluid.
Psyker- All Eldar have some latent psychic power, as is seen even in their most basic of items and tasks. All require a psyker to manufacture them. Kayriel has mastered some of the power wielded by her people, and has a mild level of skill with her abilities.
Name: Nehekor
Age: He was aged 23 before biotransference. Now he is millions of years old.
Race: Necron, Greater
Gender: None
Appearance: Standing at a titanic height of eight foot four inches tall, and with the body of soulless, skeletal machines. Nehekor is perhaps a mortal nightmare given physical form. His eyes glow with a deep emerald light, and his body is further armoured with royal plates of bronzed Necrodermis. Upon his chest is the symbol of a well-respected Necron Royal house, made from a green-hued metal. His own Necrodermis takes the shade common amongst the Necrons, a dark, grey colour with little light reflected from it. Upon his back, he wears a large and illustrious looking cloak made from thick, navy blue cloth.
Personality: Taciturn, highly logical and immensely intelligent. Nehekor is a rather grim person by nature, seeing that the previous Necron Empire has crumbled, only to be replaced by trillions of primitive aliens that squat amidst the ruins of his people’s greatest creations. He holds hatred for many of these races, seeing the Tau as some of the more bearable people to be around. However, he holds immense loathing of the Eldar, for his race and the Eldar fought in millennia long past, before the Eldar’s empire crumbled, now however; he sees them as weak and pathetic. But oddly, not their Webway-dwelling cousins, the Dark Eldar. Nehekor is difficult to enrage at the worst of times, merely supressing any anger, and unleashing it when faced with an enemy.
Equipment: Warscythe – An ancient weapon dating back the war in the heavens, Nehekor personally wielded this weapon when leading his legions of Necron warriors against the Eldar and the Old Ones. It is a heavy and cumbersome weapon in the hands of a mortal race, but in the hands of a tireless machine, it is a deadly weapon, whose weight gives it additional force. It is a power weapon, able to slice though nearly anything.
Sepiternal weave- Having had his Necrodermis body threaded with filaments of phase-hardened amaranthite and adamantium, Nehekor has vastly increasing the hardiness of the Necrodermis body.
Skills: Tireless automation- As a machine and not a mortal of flesh and blood, Nehekor is possessed of a boundless stamina that allows him to fight literally until he is destroyed, or perform physical actions until he chooses to stop.
Regeneration- Being forged from the living metal, Necrodermis; Nehekor can slowly repair himself after suffering damage of any kind, reknitting limbs together, and filling in impact craters upon his metal hide. However it doesn’t mean that he is un-killable, if reduced to small parts, and then the Necrodermis cannot repair itself back to its original form, unless the pieces are moved close together.
Ancient knowledge- Being Millennia old and living during the time before humans even crawled onto land upon their stomachs; Nehekor knows the secrets of his race’s technology, and their immense amount of history before the stasis. He even knows vast amounts about the ancient Eldar Empire, before its eventual collapse.
Unnaturally strong- Due to being a creature of a metal rather than flesh and blood, Nehekor can exert much more strength than any creature of flesh could ever dream to, save perhaps the Space marines and the largest of Greenskins. This means that he can easily best another creature when it comes to close quarters fighting, should he get close.
Name: Heraz Maldas
Age: Unknown, he fought in the Horus Heresy over 10,000 years ago however.
Race: Chaos Space Marine
Gender: Male
Appearance: Standing at a height of eight foot seven inches with a bulky, muscular build. Heraz is a towering man, even amongst his fellow Chaos Marines. His skin is extremely pale, but is weathered and has a texture not unlike leather. His eyes are a deep green in colour, much like the armour of the Salamanders chapter, while his short hair is colour of tree bark. He is clad in an ancient suit of power armour, dating back to the Horus Heresy; it is mostly composed of pieces of the Mark V power armour, most commonly used during the Heresy. It is pained gunmetal grey, with yellow and black chevrons upon his right pauldron and left shin. His left pauldron has numerous studs upon it, a hasty repair due to a lack of parts. Upon the powerpack on the back of his armour, to large spikes have sprouted from the centre outwards. Also upon his back, is a dark green cloak made from heavy duty, flame proof cloth. Upon the breastplate of his armour, is a large skull in the style of the Iron warriors upon the centre of his chest.
Personality: A grim and dour man by many accounts, Heraz is far more concerned with saving his own hide than helping out other that he may encounter. As to be expected, he harbours a deep hatred and loathing of the Loyalist Space Marines, due to their dogged loyalty to their Emperor. He isn’t a hateful person by nature however, he just often sees people as tools to reach his own goals and keep himself out of the line of fire. In combat however, he is a ferocious fighter that uses his skills and bioengineered prowess to the height of its effectiveness.
Equipment: A suit of pre-Heresy Mark V Power armour- An ancient suit of power armour, over ten-thousand years of old, in the livery of the Iron warriors chaos Space marine legion. It bears two large spikes upon the powerpack, and has been slightly warped over the years of warp expose, to now have some bony ridges upon it.
A pre-Heresy Bolter- An ancient boltgun dating back to the Horus Heresy. It is slightly chipped in places, due to heavy wear and tear, though it is mostly in great condition. The muzzle has been changed however, to have a small bronze gargoyle upon it. A small glyph, bearing the mark of Tzeentch upon it can be found upon the right side of the weapon.
A Chainsword taken from the hands of a slain loyalist Space Marine- Perhaps the newest weapon in his arsenal, this Chainsword was ripped from the hands of a loyalist marine that dared to try and challenge him. The weapon is in fairly good shape, all of the blade’s teeth are still present upon it, though the weapon’s paint has dulled down somewhat.
Skills: Chaos Space Marine – As a Chaos Space Marine, Heraz was bioengineered alongside his brother marines, to be an exemplary soldier, many times stronger, faster, and more durable than a standard human being. This also means that he has the needed training and augments to don a suit of power armour without suffering serious pains or the risk of getting maimed.
Tactician- Millennia of constant warfare have taught Heraz valuable tactics upon the fields of war, and how to plan for his enemy’s movements. He knows how and where an enemy will strike, and can plan out just how he may stop such an assault from slaying himself and those with him. However, Orks always seem to confound his plans in some manner, granting them his ire.
Fearless- Having been exposed to the many horrors and denizens of the warp for thousands of years, Heraz is unfazed by even the most foul and disgusting of creatures in the universe. He knows no fear.
Hatred (Space Marines)- Having fought amongst the loyalists thousands of years ago, then fighting against them and their dogged emperor. Heraz has slowly built an immense amount of sheer loathing and hatred of his loyalist kin. He knows how they fight, and how to stop them.
Hand-To-Hand mastery- Having honed his skills for thousands of years, Heraz can swiftly incapacitate, or outright kill, several human opponents with just his fists. Against a loyalist space marine, he knows the weak points in power armour, and where the vital organs of a Space marine are located well enough to reliable incapacitate them.
Intelligence- Thousands of years of study, mixed with the following of the Chaos god of knowledge, Tzeentch, have granted Heraz intelligence seldom matched. He knows swathes of information about most races in the galaxy, and much of their histories.
Bio: Born on Holy Terra, over ten thousand years ago, Heraz was among the very first of all human men to be chosen to join the legions of the Space Marines, namely, the Legion that would soon go to Primarch Perturabo of Olympia. Heraz was born for the smoke and conditions of a long, protracted siege against the enemies of the Emperor, and so that is how he proved his worth to his legion, by being there, helping to storm a breach or man the artillery that battered down a foe’s walls. Heraz fought for the Iron Warriors legion during the many years of the crusades against the Xenos of the universe, bringing the might of the fledgling imperium to the numerous Alien worlds that scattered the universe.
However, it was during those crusades that the first seeds of doubt crept into Heraz’s mind, he saw his legion used purely to siege the fortresses of the alien, and then build atop of them. He saw a legion that had been split into numerous small teams, almost like support to the other legions; he himself was part of one of these small ‘support’ teams, witnessing the poor use of his brethren. At this time, it was also when the first bits of hatred towards the other legions, namely the Imperial Fists, and their primarch Rogal Dorn. Heraz saw their legion as the ones that were forever receiving praise, while it was his legion, his brothers that did the brunt of the work. So it those seeds and bits of hated sit, dormant, never gotten rid of nor never showing, just waiting.
Ten thousand years ago, when the first Space Marines of the twenty legions turned to chaos, Heraz was among the first of the Iron Warriors to take up the mantle of Chaos, and follow his chaotic brethren into a war against those once thought of as brothers in arms. Now, they were the enemy, along with the Xenos. He fought on every world where his group brought him, tearing down fortress after fortress, many of which having been built by the hands of the Imperial Fists, all in the name of the Chaos Gods. Heraz even fought upon the planet of Istann V, during the ‘drop site massacre’ going on to aid his legion in the battle of Terra, where the very limits of the loyalists were stretched to the limit. As to be expected, he did not take the defeat of the traitor legions well whatsoever, yet he fled to the eye of terror just like the rest of his traitor kin, where he remained, only venturing out to sow death among the loyalists and the Imperium. However, in recent times he has found himself upon a hive world, a place of nigh slavery and lawlessness…
Name: Moskrar Gorkruk “Da ‘eadstompa!”
Age: 37
Race: Ork
Gender: Male
Appearance: A towering brute of an Ork with a heavily muscled frame. Mskrar stands just short of seven feet tall, though like many Orks he slouches, making his appear shorter than he actually is. His skin is a somewhat darker green than the average Ork, almost Olive-like in shade, while his eyes are small, beady and blood red in colour. Like many larger Orks, some of his bottom teeth protrude out his mouth like tusks on a boar. His facial features are thickly set, much like a brawler’s, with a thickly set jaw and sturdy looking cheek bones. He always tends to wear a suit of distinctly Orky armour, Squig skin leather and a few metal plates attached to make him harder to kill. Morskrar has numerous scars upon his body.
Personality: Moskrar embodies the Ork trait of Stubbornness, once he puts his foot down, there is very little in the universe that is going to make him change his mind. Though it goes without saying that he is always looking for a good fight to partake in, the bigger and meaner the foe, the better. However, for an Ork he can be surprisingly cunning and perhaps even intelligent, never to the level of an Eldar or similar, but smart enough. He also has an infatuation with loud, bullet spewing machine guns.
Equipment: Choppa – A large and heavy Choppa, cobbled together by Moskrar himself, in the style of a large axe. It bears the yellow and black symbol of the Bad Moons Ork clan, and has spikes upon the back of the Axe head for piercing attacks. It is perhaps Moskrar’s most prized possession.
Slugga – A brutish looking Ork Pistol, with numerous paint chips upon it, amidst other bits of wear and tear. The magazine of such a weapon is found in the weapon’s grip. Though also upon the bottom of the grip is located a large tooth, taken form an equally large creature.
Shoota – An Ork version of a human assault rifle, this particular shoota has the yellow and black crescent moon symbol of the Bad moons clan upon it, amidst numerous other little Ork trinkets, like the teeth taken from other races. The magazine of this weapon is to be found just in-front of the trigger and grip. The weapon has a large bayonet upon it.
Orky Armour- A suit o distinctly Orky armour made primarily from squig skin leather and numerous metal plates beaten into shape by Morskrar, to fit on his shoulders or upon his chest.
Skills: “Iz da ‘ardest!” – Being an Ork, Morskrar is immune to all but the most agonizing of pain inflicted upon him, and can shrug off simple wounds with nothing more than a chuckle and menacing grimace. This, seeming immunity of pain means that he can charge at some poor unfortunate soul, and, more often than not, fear little from their puny firearms.
“Orkz Iz da strongest!” – Due to his extremely muscular build, and a lifetime of constant war and brawling amongst his own race, and oher races. Morskrar has developed an immense amount of sheer physical strength, enough to knock a space marine flying with his charge, or to crack a human’s bone with nothing more than a good punch.
“Deyz a bunch a cowardz!” – A mixture of always seeking out a good scrap and the typical Ork levels of violent aggression and utmost bravado, Morskrar is all but unbothered by the largest and most disgusting of enemies that he will face. Instead of quaking in his squig skin boots, he’ll take action against the creature.
“Iz da meanest!” – Benefitting from his huge size, muscular frame, and aggression, Morskrar has learned just how to terrify the other races in the best manner possible. Though it doesn’t often work on other Orks or Space Marines, who are used to such displays of aggression and intimidation.
“I iz da greenest!”- Due to his mass and sheer physical strength, Morskar can deliver crushing charges to his foes when he’s built up enough momentum.
“Dakk iz gud, but a choppa iz betta” – Morskrar is highly skilled when it comes to melee combat with his fists or his choppa, able to cleave through soft targets with the utmost ease, and smash through armour with bestial strength.
Bio: Hatching from a cocoon upon an industrious world, taken over by Orks, Morskrar has had a relatively tame life for an Ork, none of the business of having off an already present force for control, though he did become a Kommando. However, the Imperium have sent vast forces of the Imperial Guard to retake the planet, which has only gone so far as to amuse the Orks greatly. It was during one of the many battles that Morskrar first got a chance of real battle against a true foe. The Imperium had invaded the plant only hours ago; the early vestiges of a landing force had barely made themselves a temporary fortress before the Orks attacked. Morskrar, along with his tribe of Orks, were among the first to find the landers and their small fortress, and in the usual Orky manner, they attacked.
Great hordes of them rushed the Imperial lines, alongside them screeched dozens of biker boyz and trukks bearing yet more boys to the battle. A great, whooping and howling horde of green muscle and brute strength. They struck the lines of the ‘oomanz’ with a force akin to a green tidal wave of cleaving choppas, and solid shots from sluggas. The battle was infuriatingly short, and the ranks of human guardsmen proved weak and put up little resistance to the horde of Orks, they would fire their lasguns but to no avail, for every Ork that was killed seven more seemed to take his place. So zealous were the Orks, the nigh on every guardsman on the planet was hacked apart by hundreds of choppas. During the battle, many of his fellow Orks just focused on one thing: Battle. However, Morskrar had a rather cunning plan for an Ork. He would board one of the Imperial ships, and hide upon it until it docked once again, on that planet, he would then signal the rest of his tribe…
Name: Shas'Ui T'au Ash'vren
Age: 23
Race: Tau
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing just shy of five foot, one inch with a relatively lithe and slim build for a Tau of the Fire Caste. Ash’vren is not the most intimidating of Tau. Her skin is a light, azure blue, and her hair is a dull red, reaching just about to her shoulders. She often wears a suit of pathfinder Recon armour painted orange and white, the livery of her race’s homeworld of Tau. The slit upon her head, which all Tau possess, is in the shape of a “Y” which is normal for a female Tau. Her face is slightly human-like in shape, with a similar head shape, but still possessing normal Tau features. She does however, have a small scar upon her lip. When not on duty, she will often wear casual clothing, such as jackets, shirts. However, all her casual clothing has the symbol of Tau upon it.
Personality: Optimistic and quite friendly for someone of the fire caste. Ash’Vren is someone that will always try to look at the brighter side of any event. She even tries to refrain from outright combat with another person, unless she absolutely must do. Like the majority of Tau, she believes in the ‘Greater Good’ and will seek to follow its examples where possible. It is a nigh impossible task to anger her to the point of showing it, instead she will just grow silent and refrain from speaking with the being that is trying to enrage her, the only response they will get, is an irritated sigh and a perhaps a scowl.
Equipment: A suit of Tau Recon armour- A suit of scout armour, not designed for direct combat on the frontlines, but for pathfinder units that seek to find faults and weak points in an enemy’s lines. It is coloured in the livery of the Tau homeworld, Orange and white. She even possesses the helmet for such a suit of armour, the eye lenses of which are a bright blue in colour.
Pulse carbine- A compact and lightweight weapon designed for pathfinder squads, this particular weapon has been slightly worn in places from use, with scuff marks and paint chips aplenty. The weapon is painted in the livery of the Tau homeworld, Orange and white. The weapon also has an underslung launcher for Tau grenades; however, she doesn’t possess any such explosives.
Pulse Pistol- A small and exceptionally lightweight weapon, designed for last-ditch fights in combat, or for law-enforcement. Ash’Vren has taken exceptional care of this weapon, leaving it in pristine condition.
Rail rifle- A large and rather unwieldy rifle, the rail rifle, is to a Tau what a sniper rifle is a human. A long range implement, firing an equally powerful shot.
Casual clothing- What is says on the tin. This is a set of casual clothing designed for civilian use.
Skills: Expert shooter- Through constant fire caste drilling and training, Ash’Vren has grown accurate with all manner of Tau weapons, but mainly the Pulse weapons made by her people. However, this means that she shows some aptitude with the ranged weapons of some other races, not masterful skill, but enough to use them.
Swift- Due to numerous drills and being in actual conflict while in the fire caste, Ash’Vren has been trained and conditioned to be exceptionally swift in her actions, far outpacing a normal human, but still nowhere near an Eldar, or Dark Eldar.
High stamina- Due to constant training throughout much of her life, Ash’Vren has slowly built up a vast reserve of stamina, which allows her to run or perform physical activities for extended periods of time.
Stealthy- Being a member of a pathfinder team meant that Ash’Vren had to be exceptionally able to blend in with her surroundings, and make as little noise as possible; this means that she is more capable when it comes to hiding from potential enemies or threats.
Bio: Discipline, and utmost loyalty to the greater good. Such things are all that that often required of any member of the Fire caste, and Ash’Vren was no exception. Born on the homeworld of the Tau people, upon the planet T’au. Ash’Vren’s parents were both of the fire caste, her mother a Shas’la and her father a Shas’ui. The latter was a battlesuit pilot and the former was a typical warrior. Her parents had several children, meaning that Ash’Vren has two brothers and a single sister. As to be expected, Ash’Vren grew up around the core ideals of the Fire caste, and amidst constant training at the hands of the veteran Fire caste instructors. She learned the art of the marksman well exceptionally well, constantly reaching the top of any firing range.
It was not until a few years later that the young Shas’la saw any actual combat, though her first battle would prove to the veteran fire caste members, that she was immensely resourceful. The battle was upon the western border of the Tau Empire, on the edges of Imperial space, Ash’Vren had only just barely been assigned to the ranks of the pathfinders when the battle had commenced. Her unit where to scout around the massed tanks of the Imperial guard, and to sabotage any resources that they required. Their first target was an immense fuel dump that serviced the Leman Russ battle tanks, so common among the guard. The goal was to sabotage the vast fuel supplies present there. It was an easy enough task to accomplish, however, one of the pathfinders in their unit, an over-zealous and aggressive Tau, thought it wise to fire upon the supply dump. Much to the dismay of his comrades.
Instead of massed numbers of Imperial guardsmen to meet them, the pathfinders were met with a Leman Russ Executioner, a human tank with a massive and unstable plasma gun upon its turret. It fired once, the barrel of the weapon spitting for a crackling green orb of plasma, perhaps luckily, the shot was not aimed at the Tau, but at their transport vessel. The next shot wouldn’t be as lucky. The same crackling sound followed the last, and yet another orb of green energy sped towards the pathfinders, the resulting crater was a testament to the power of the shot, which killed four of the seven Tau outright, leaving the others dazed. The humans at the wheel of the tank had no time to wait for the unstable gun upon their vehicle to cool itself, and instead drove towards the scattered Tau, complexly crushing one of the corpses, and trundling towards the others. Spotting heir dooms approaching, the three remaining Tau, Ash’Vren included, rolled out from the path of the multi-tonne tank, but they were stuck without anti-vehicle weapons. However, if she was anything, then Ash’Vren was observant, she saw the several coolant vents that were placed upon the turret of the tank, likely to aid its main gun cool after each shot. Grabbing her pulse carbine, she ran behind the vehicle, and clambered aboard its sloped exterior, up to the coolant vents. She loosed several shots into the coolant vents, causing more and more damage to them; super-heated gas began to leak from one, while a molten green liquid oozed from another, melting into the armour of the tank, and into the cockpit. Murdering the crew. Jumping from the top of the vehicle, the pathfinder team swiftly went about their task, accomplishing it with minimal issues.
Upon their return to the Tau fire caste’s main headquarters upon the planet, the two remaining Shas’la, were promoted to Shas’ui, and the sergeant of the team was commemorated for showing valour. However, there was a task was the three now, they were to spy upon a nearby Hive world, and decipher what exactly the planet was manufacturing…
HellRazor-
Name: Johnny Anders
Age: 26
Race: Humans
Gender: Male
Appearance: 183cm, white male. Short straight black hair, brown eyes. Well built, has good muscles as serving as a soldier.
Personality: Normal Johnny Anders. Sarcastic, clever, vengeful, cold blooded and many things. Can make joke about everything. And loyal.
Equipment: Auto-Gun, Pistol, Chainsword, Frag Grenade, Flak armour
Skills: Soldier: Good aim, good in hand-to hand combat. He knows how to use, clean and "use" weapons. He is loyal as a soldier.
High Stamina: Training for years, fighting in battlefield. More military training, weekly working. He has good stamina.
Battlefield Tactics: He is war experienced soldier. He knows battlefield tactics.
Smoking: He can smoke five cigarettes at same time.
Some other skills such as: Survival, street smart, convincing, and he knows people as working as police force too. He likes that, seeing what people are, learning them with talking for few minutes.
Bio: Normal, nothing tragic. Joined the army at the age of 16. He get in battles. He lost some brothers in arm, he gained brothers in arm. He ranked up, he is corporal. He is in garrison. He loves a woman, five years younger than him. He also smoke cigarettes. And, he really likes his auto-gun. He has two brothers, one of them in army. Johnny luckily didn't get shot in battlefield before. He hates chaos marines and everyone against humans. He is literate actually. He is a real loyal soldier to the Emperor. He will kill anyone without questioning it. Actually, it's a lie. He will question it. He will do it, and he will take revenge if they make him kill people he loves. In the other hand, he can literally kill everyone. He is willing to do everything(except killing people he loves) for the Emperor. But, he is garrisoned in this planet now, and want to go back to his home planet. To his family, to his friends, to his love, and to his better life.
Terrence-
Name: Wortbad Pitlord
Age:20
Race:Ork Nob
Gender: Male?
Appearance:He's huge, green-skinned, extremely muscular and all-around somewhat repulsive looking. So basically your standard ork nob. He stands at 2,2 meters tall and weighs about 120 kilograms. He is covered from head to toe in scars from his career as a pit fighter. He wears a haphazardly cobbled together attempt at replicating orkish studded armour with the symbol of the blood axes ork klan haphazardly dyed upon its front and back. (A skull with two red axes crossed behind it.)
Personality:Like any ork, Wortbad is short-tempered, abrasive, obnoxious, and generally unpleasant to be around. He considers himself to be the strongest creature around at all times, and will leap at any opportunity to prove it. Though he is also smart enough to know when to retreat. He does not consider retreating losing, instead, it is merely a show of 'orky kunnin'. He feels most at home footslogging about and unleashing dakka on his enemies, though he isn't afraid to get his hands dirty with some melee combat.
Equipment:
A slugga-and-choppa combo for close combat encounters.
A big shoota for da gits that are out of choppin range.
A set of studded armour with an 'ard at against da gitz that aim for da face
Skills:
Toughness: Like any orc, Wortbad is extremely tough, able to survive wounds that would cripple or even kill a lesser creature. he also has the pain tolerance to go with it, often simply shrugging of minor wounds.
Fearless: Either through stubbornness or through sheer lack of understanding, wortbad is usually unfazed by whatever horrors lie in wait in the darkness of space.
Experienced fighter: Wortbad is very experienced in fighting, having participated in both grand campaigns of war and gritty, brutal arena fights.
Bio:A remnant of an Ork WAAGH! Gone awry, Wortbad was a captured ork boy who had been shipped off to a chapter of the adeptus mechanicus focused on xeno research. Through some twist of fate, one of the local gangs of lowlifes had stolen the mobile holding cell which had contained him as the cargo ship was docked on one of the spaceports of the hive world. The thieves were quite displeased with the fact their loot was a dangerous alien brute, and they would have gotten rid of the ork had they not known of a local underground fighting ring. They figured now that they had a big green monstrous alien that loved fighting, they might as well cut their losses and milk him for all he was worth.
The fight pit was a brutal place, trained beasts of war killed defenceless prisoners for the amusement of the masses, heavily armed pit fighters fought to the death to earn freedom from whatever they were accused of to end up there. In short, it was heaven on earth for wortbad. The ork was initially written off as little more than a gimmick, little more than just another exotic trained beast. This perception quickly changed after the third or so opponent lay in shambles at the ork's feet. From that day forward, he was a crowd favourite. Renowned for the brutal glee with which he tore opponents limb from limb. Soon, he had become the champion of the pit.
This championhood was apparently enough for whatever genetic mechanism created ork nobs, as the ork slowly but surely increased ever more in bulk and in power. Soon, the fights in the pit had become a bore for wortbad, who had now given himself the moniker 'pitlord'. Even the inclusion of firearms in the fights did little to stave off the boredom. He ultimately decided he had had enough. And so, he took the ork equipment the pit managers had 'procured' one day and, to everyone's terrified surprise, the 'pit lord' whom was such a sight to behold, turned his weapons on the crowd. His opponent for the day took the opportunity to scram, he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about fighting a 70 feet brute with a machine gun after all. And by the next hour, the fight pit had been reduced to scrap and mangled corpses. The pit managers had woefully underestimated the threat an ork nob could pose when he attempted to escape, and for that, they had paid the ultimate price.
The enforcers of law on the hive, spread thin as they weren, could hardly ignore a massacre like that. After interrogating the survivors, they saw it fit to place the escaped ork on the hive's most wanted list. Though this pleased wortbad greatly, it also gave him a reason to get off planet. He had seen quite a bit of the hive's population, and he didn't doubt there would probably be more people after the bounty on his head than he had bullets for his shoota.
Anadwen-
"How dare you speak to me in such a manner? I'm telling that to my father!"
Name: Asduthara Kaera Ar'ovyn
Nicknames: Hand of Steel
Age: 411
Birth Date: 19/11
Gender: Male
Species: Dark Eldar
Occupation: Dracon, noble, an Archon's son, snob, arrogant prick and a pain in the ass
Original Home: High Commorragh
Home at this time: A personal ship; High Commorragh remains his home, though.
Theme Song: Korn - Narcissistic Cannibal
Appearance:
Height: 218 cm
|Hair color: Originally black, sometimes dyed a pale white/silver
Eye color: Very bright grey-blue
Skin: Perfect porcelain snow-white
Tattoos: N/A
Piercings: Several in his ears
Extras: N/A
Physical Limitations: Incapable of flight so far... Does that count?
Style: Expensive, hard, meant to strike fear into your heart at the very sighting of Asduthara. Mostly consists of armor, though, black and very dark grey being the prevalent colors. Otherwise, when in the (relative) safety of his home, or the most secure parts of his ship, he tends to don clothes, just as well colored black and grey mostly; he likes tall boots and iron accessories that clink when he moves, and hurt slaves when pressed onto their skin. Everything is a weapon if you do not lack the imagination to use it as such.
Asduthara, not lacking the graceful, tall frame, own to all Eldar, would be an astonishing presence; still fresh with youth, blessed with heritage of beauty and elegance, and possessing a body chiseled from battle practice, he lacks almost nothing. However, at the first sight, his is a dark, fearful, intimidating aura; even if he does not look so, an air of violence, brutality, and hatred hangs around his eternally cold figure. He stands tall, possessing a lean physique with pronounced, wiry muscles under perfect, unblemished snow-white skin, nigh translucent. His features are noble and elegant, with tall cheekbones on a slightly elongated face, a sharp chin, thin lips and noise, and his eyes, tilted softly like those of a panther, gazing upon its prey. Their irises are a bright, yet endlessly freezing, consuming shade of steel grey, bordering with cobalt blue, in stark contrast with the lines of ash and kohl that he smears around his eyes, only adding him on fearfulness. Those run in a few lines down those tall, prominent cheekbones of his on most times; it's likely, though, that without them, and without his battle attire, he'd appear less than a punisher from one's nightmares, and more akin to his Craftworld cousins. His hair, though originally midnight black in color, is often bleached into a silvery white shade, only their tips keeping their original color. It is long, very long, only a few front wisps hanging as short as his chin or the base of his neck; at the back, however, the longest of their thick, straight wisps slither like silk all the way to his waist. Thin, almost invisible lines run across the underside of his wrists; they are one of the very few scars he bears. His ears, despite being partly covered by his hair, usually pulled into something between a ponytail and a bun with the aid of a small blade of a wicked, sharp design, are pierced with a few metal studs, as dark and menacing in appearance as that blade within the white strands of his hair. He does not truly dislike wearing common clothes, yet he finds them less secure than armor, and thus is most often seen avoiding them. When caught off-guard, though, he's most likely to be found donning something black, expensive, and as horrorish as anything else about Asduthara himself. Mostly in the sheer amount of iron and leather, adorning even his ordinary clothes.
[spoiler=If you want to see Asduthara without hairdye, suit yourself.]
Personality:
Likes: Bloodshed, carnage, weapons, power, bullying others, obedient slaves, wenches that dance well, people showing him respect, fighting, training for fighting, when people bow before him, being praised, fighting at the frontlines, watching other people suffer, the color black, bleaching his hair, bladed weapons, the night, taking what he wants and likes, scaring people
Dislikes: Bright light, colors, everything that's not a Trueborn Dark Eldar, especially Orks, when a tortured person doesn't scream loud enough, slow, lousy or clumsy slaves, people opposing him, when someone doesn't give him his full attention, being out of ammo, being disturbed during a meal, when someone doesn't show him all respects, anything sweet-flavored
Strengths: A highly tactical mind, great sphere of influence, skill in battle and incredible agility; Asduthara has had a lot of previous experiences with fighting and thus can be not only a good soldier, but also a good general when given the task. He's confident and extremely dedicated to whatever he currently has in his mind - he's giving up on a goal only over his dead body.
Weaknesses: Spoiled, arrogant and hypocritical, Asduthara is also the embodiment of a brat. He has no respect for life other than that of his father whatsoever, is bloodthirsty, lacks most common sense and could be called a sociopath at the very best; he's a cruel, callous person that cares for no-one but himself. He doesn't even see those other than the Trueborn, Archons and most prominent Dark Eldar worth speaking to or looking at.
Quirks: He always eats full meals alone; to be sighted while doing it would be, at least to him, considered a big shame. He hates physical contact (even through armor) with anyone but Trueborn, Archons, and nobles to an almost psychotic extent.
Dreams: Becoming an Archon and besting his father in battle prowess and power
Fears: His soul being devoured by Slaanesh; public humiliation
Nervous habits: When getting impatient or anxious, he has a tendency to instinctively draw his hands near to his weapons; he carries his head very high, especially when feeling insulted by something.
Eating habits: He eats only by himself, in an empty room, and does not allow anyone to watch him while doing so. He has a very strict and balanced diet; every single thing he puts to his mouth is calculated to fit into a complicated pattern of nutrients that will benefit his physical state and keep him in top shape. He never eats too quickly, and has a tendency not to actually eat the meal with a salad etc., favoring to eat one after the other. He completely avoids consuming anything sweet whatsoever.
Speech patterns: His voice rarely changes tone, and has a chilling, authoritative quality to itself; it sounds as if he's constantly dismissive of you, and in most cases, that is true. He gives compliments sparsely and critique generously, but without any sort of emotion to be noticed. His language is sophisticated, yet he does swear quite a lot; it's not unusual to hear him drop the f-bomb right after a chain of poetic expressions.
Greatest Flaw: Selfishness; he has no concern for anyone but himself, and doesn't even consider other races than Dark Eldar worth the gift of life itself.
Greatest Quality: Determination; his dedication to a thing is outright insane - he's convinced to go over a Mount Olympus-sized piles of corpses (no matter whose corpses those are) for the glory and might of his Kabal and the enjoyment of seeing others' perils.
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Turn-ons: Revealing clothes, weapons, a high social standing, muscular, yet lean female bodies, white hair, confident women, wildness and ferocity, a woman with a personality that will entertain him, armor
Turn-offs: Anything not Dark Eldar Trueborn, too skinny and too fat women, helpless, bland, boring, clueless, stupid, blindly obedient but also too rebellious women, when a girl can't handle weapons, a woman that talks too much, a girl that won't listen to him.
Love Interest: None. That's a waste of time.
How does the character see themselves?: A man of might and intelligence that should be bowed to and obeyed, a great warrior and a fearful existence not to be toyed with. Someone you kneel before without doubting.
How do they believe others perceive them?: Exactly how he sees himself. Plus attractive.
How self-confident is the character?: Very; the only thing capable of making him doubt himself is his father.
What embarrasses the character?: Being seen eating, failing in combat, being reprimanded by someone of a higher standing
What does the character want out of life?: Glory and might for his Kabal, everything not Dark Eldar dying in peril, anguish and agony underneath his feet while he listens to the symphony of their premortal screams; becoming a great warrior.
What would the character change in their life?: No Orks existing. Asduthara hates Orks.
What motivates them?: Lust for power and loyalty to his father.
What frightens them?: His father's disapproval, his soul being devoured
What makes them happy?: Seeing others suffer, his father's praise
Introvert or Extrovert: Introvert
Thinking or feeling: Thinking
Ruled by emotion or logic or a combination: A combination with prevalent logic
Self centered, selfish, or selfless: Very, very, very selfish and self-centered
Generous or stingy: Stingy. Get a gift? Over his dead body.
Polite or rude: If you're not a Dark Eldar of high standing, then not only rude, but also a big bully.
Annoying or laid back: Laid back, and quite a lot.
Optimist or pessimist: Pessimist
Forgiving?: You'd wish he would be
Control freak?: Definitely
Manipulative?: Why are you even asking? Isn't this obvious?
Patient?: Yes, quite.
Just like most of the Dark Eldar Trueborn, Asduthara, having been born and destined for a high social standing from the very moment he left his mother's womb, is a cruel, selfish person without regard for life. He doesn't care about anyone but himself and his father, whom he adores and idolizes; the rest is to him entertainment at best, disposable pawns at worst. He's a very cold, calculating man, too, rarely expressing emotion, but stating his opinion without hesitation; despite not being a big talker, he has an authority about himself that sends chills down one's spine at the very moment of meeting him. He's quick to show disapproval and difficult to please by anything but bloodshed and carnage, and greatly dislikes anyone even as little as prying about insignificant details of his life. If he decides not to say something, he isn't saying it, and that's where it's at.
He is, however, extremely determined and has a great deal of courage. In combination with his analytic mind and tactical skill, it makes him a deadly opponent in battle and a good ally; there's very little that would stop him from striving for his goal. He is also very intelligent and has a photographic memory, combined with keen senses and a willpower to match; that is the only thing that keeps him upholding the strict routine he's set himself when coming of age, and only made it stricter and harsher in order to become a better, more capable warrior, one day able to become an Archon himself.
He, however introverted, cold, and sometimes even odd with his habits may he be, is not someone to be toyed with. He shows no mercy to anyone who even as little as unintentionally makes a mistake; he trains his slaves with an iron whip and the threat of slow, agonizing death always hangs above their throats. He believes in the power of fear and convincing rather than striking deals and making compromises; in truth, he is an all-or-nothing person.
An important note is also the fact that Asduthara is incredibly hard and stern. Not only on himself, but also on his squad, his slaves, simply anyone that has to obey his commands even if for a moment. He punishes harshly with a fist of iron and does not accept any compromises; that is likely the reason he has climbed the ranks so fast, was it not for the fact that he was the Archon's firstborn Trueborn son, what has naturally earned him favor in his father's eyes. It's not unusual to earn a death sentence by something as simple as intruding into his room at a wrong time if you are a slave, and any defeat by an adversary from his underlings is met with harsh punishment. He believes in fear as a motivator, but also a way to keep others in check - nothing works without fear that whips the backs of his men like a viper's venom. And thus, he applies the power of fear anytime and anyplace possible, in order to keep up perfect performance paired with flawless obedience. And the (though few in number, but forever etched in his memory) attempts to assassinate - 3 in total so far - have convinced him only further. Train them with fear, otherwise they will not obey.
However, he is, too, a spoiled brat and arrogant prick that respects no one but his father, being generally rude to all other races and openly dismissive of those of lesser status. He will take advantage of anything that's even remotely near a chance to climb the ranks and the ladder of social positions, he will take what he wants without asking, and he will kill anyone that's in his way. And even his loyalty to the Archon is, deep within his heart, less iron than he makes it seem. He wishes to become Archon himself, just like his father, who overthrew his grandfather and usurped the position for himself; attaining more power, glory, and might for himself is his primary goal.
He also has a very morbid, sometimes also sarcastic sense of humor; when prompted enough to actually reveal it, one will find little else than striking fun of carnage and agony and biting sarcasm.
Attitude towards...
Self: Highly positive; he loves himself more than anything else in the world, yet he is quite strict on his self, too, in order to keep himself in top shape, ever vigilant, ever ready.
Others: Useless pawns and bags of blood and flesh. No liking for them.
Friendship: What useless, lowly, foolish bullshit is that?
Sex: Neutral; pleasurable, but wenches are a bother. You have to be wary of who you bed, however.
Love: Weak.
Relationship: Weak. It can exploit your weaknesses and bring you down to your knees when you expect it the least.
Job: It's what he lives for, his glory and all that fulfills him.
Other species: Good for killing and serving him, but nothing else.
Important belongings:
Though virtually not incapable of getting almost anything that his father or himself can steal and take off some dead man's ship, his main equipment consists of:
Ghostplate Armor - black in color, fearful in design. This light suit of armor augments Asduthara's natural agility and speed, not slowing him down in the slightest while providing enough protection for him to survive a few seconds of fire and assault against his person while he incapacitates his opponent. Spiked and dangerous in itself, it possesses the dim shine of unpolished metal, bearing the emblem of the Kabal of the Pierced Moon on its right shoulder, extending to the right pectoral. By his left hip hang a few 'trinkets' - mostly skulls of his past adversaries, hanging on several chains, connected to the metal.
Splinter Weapons - several of them, the primary one being a splinter pistol, although he does own a somewhat modified splinter carabine as well. They are standard weapons, though of quite good quality, firing loads upon loads of rounds to shower any enemy in hell, raining from somewhere before them. Blast the filth!
Haywire Blaster - not used commonly, but often pulled out during larger raids, Asduthara has made sure that he can get rid even of large vehicles by destroying their controls. However, it is rarely used due to this task usually being left to his squad.
Power sword - a wicked, sharp blade that in itself appears dangerous, even when unused. It is long, its blade dark in color, with a curve of a blade, several spikes protruding nearly at its base, while the blade itself ends in a sharp, deadly tip. The hilt is dark grey and crimson, worn by use, but the blade is kept in perfect state despite the massive combat use it has already gone through.
Agoniser - coming in the shape of a deadly whip, it is one of Asduthara's favored weapons, due to the damage and agony it so easily inflicts, just as well as the elegant, yet hellishly scary shape of the weapon, it is a versatile and dangerous tool of war; that makes it so favored. Too, it is treasured greatly and maintained perfectly.
Impaler - attached to a long handle is a couple of symmetrical monomolecular blades, this lightweight, yet long-reaching weapon isn't difficult to use (for him, to say the least) and is versatile in its utilization. Most often wielded with an Agonizer, or a Splinter Pistol, or with a shardnet on special occasions, it makes up for a deadly couple be it paired with a ranged, or a close-combat weapon.
Knives and other smaller melee weapons, mainly the cutting and stabbing sort, are also in his inventory.
Important skills:
Melee weapon user - his main strength is the use of melee weapons, not only those meant to stab a man, but also those that electrocute a man, or cleave him in half, or else... Even though he has a good aim, nothing beats his skill with melee weapons. He is deadly with blades, whips, scythes, spears, and basically any type of melee weapons is favored by him. He has much more expertise with the elegant, well-developed weapons of his kin, though would a time of need arise, he would be doubtlessly fully capable of defending himself and raising hell with an iron
Tactician - he has a good tactical and analytic mind and can assess a battlefield within moments to derive a plan of attack. He's never without a plan! Well, unless you find him eating... Then the plan is to kill you. He is well-versed in battle tactics and leading squads of his underlings, just as well as he is flexible in his plans, not relying on the same strategy at all times. He tends to prefer a quick surprise-ambush-and-devastation technique as opposed with a straight-on charge.
Fast and acrobatic - though his toughness is somewhat doubtful, you will not doubt the speed and agility he possesses in battle. Capable of moving almost faster than a human eye can notice, it is one of his main strengths that he knows how to use to his advantage. And he can pull of ridiculous poses with sheer flexibility. He is fast enough not to need true defense, since he can simply evade most blows; it was his speed that has granted him his victories in battles, not only his skill with weapons. He, too, is incredibly graceful, even in the heat of battle moving with the elegance of a predatory cat.
High pain threshold and resistance - not only does he have a quite good stamina, but he can keep on fighting even after getting a blow to the liver or lungs, taking that he's still conscious. He may not be tough, but he's not easy to incapacitate. After many years of training, he has built up enough willpower and self-control to push any sort of discomfort
Hand-to-hand combatant - he may be skilled with melee weapons, but he is also expertly trained in fighting without them. Though not as strong as an Ork or as bulky as a Space Marine, he can utilize his speed and agility to gain momentum, allowing him to land blows far exceeding what his thin frame would normally allow him to.
Leader by nature - filling the role of a Dracon not wholly undeserving of the status, Asduthara has exactly what it takes to lead troops of his own into battle and command a squad of his own. He is a good leader, though rather strict, and has a knack for managing to keep an eye on a number of others beside himself.
Keen observer - possessing good deduction senses and observational skills, there are few things that escape his sight once he has bent his attention on something. Even though it tends to make him paranoid of others and doubtful at the very best, his reflexes, senses, and deduction has saved his life on several occasions previously.
Offense: 90/100
Defense: 40/100
Intelligence: 100/100
Physical Strength: 70/100
Mobility: 100/100
Total: 390/500
Background:
Parents' relationship status: N/A
Mother: Meridhae, concubine, deceased
Father: Or'istra Ar'ovyn, Archon of the Kabal of the Pierced Moon, alive despite attempts to assassinate him
Older siblings: N/A
Younger siblings: A few vat-grown half-siblings; however, he does not regard them his blood siblings
Other relevant family members: Arhteque Ar'ovyn, grandfather, the founder of the Kabal of the Pierced moon, killed by his son
Spouse: N/A
Children: N/A
"You speak of battle, you speak of courage, you speak of discipline, you speak of fear, you speak of death, you speak of life - you speak of all of those things as if you knew any of them, at least by a microscopic fraction of what your mind could perceive. Yet, you known nothing, for all you do is speak of them. It makes me sick to listen to those words. Cowards that do nothing but talk have no place among us."
Several millenia ago, Arhteque Ar'ovyn, whose lineage reaches long before the times of the founding of the Kabal of the Pierced Moon, being of one of the ancient noble houses, and a Trueborn no less, both of noble lineage and great skill, prowess and experience, got into a dispute with a Hierarch of the Kabal he originally belonged to, who deemed the extremely ambitious and increasingly independent Dracon Ar'ovyn a threat. Arhteque, unwilling to undergo the risk of being executed for insolence of opposing the Archon, together with his child son Or'istra, several other family members, allies, ardent followers, and the majority of his squad, thus, made their leave, announcing themselves independent and proclaiming Arhteque Ar'ovyn their Archon. Drawing from the funds of the rich and noble Ar'ovyn house, despite the antagonism between the newly-founded Kabal of the Pierced Moon and their original Kabal, the attempts to destroy it and assassinate Arhteque, and break the Kabal apart, they prospered, their influence growing and gradually, Arhteque Ar'ovyn and his Kabal gaining the reputation of masters of ambushes and tactics.
Consumpti