Well, I've decided otherwise, for the special slot! Name: Lianna Brooks Gender: Kasrkin (Cadian equivalent to a Stormtrooper) Age: 23 Appearance: The woman in question wasn't much special - standing at 6 foot and with ample muscle. She had dark brown/black hair with a set of violet eyes - like all Cadians. There were numerous scars over her form from battle - whilst numerous were Cultist blades, they were not the sole causes of injury. A particular scar would be one that ran across her entire right cheek from the jawline up to just below her eye. Her face was plain, for that matter - no real features that made her stand out - a straight-edged nose, not-too-large lips and eyes that constantly darted around, watching what they could. History: In terms of history, she was no different from many other Cadians - having been able to field-strip a lasgun at a young age, and serving her teenage years as a Whiteshield, she often played with her sister and brothers, and numerous other friends, at games like 'Find the Heretic' or small acts of duty such as basic aid around the Chimeras. Once she'd reach the age of Sixteen was when her training as a Kasrkin had begun - a long, arduous task that admittedly, numerous times, nearly been failed. However, such an honour was earned, and she'd spent the remainder of her life as one of the Elite. The reason she had been chosen however, was as much luck as skill - she and the rest of the platoon had been sent to an outpost that was under attack, where the Sergeant had ordered them to hold the Line. Easier said than done - but she'd still succeeded all the same in surviving, better than her Sergeant had. In fact, it was due to her picking up the Banner and ordering a charge on the outpost - and then the usage of its heavy bolters - had the Outpost been kept at all. The luck in question was not only surviving such a raid, but in being noticed: history did not reward -all- heroes, after all, and it was luck that made her gain the rewards. From there she'd been sent to a small handful of other fronts - never so much as caring what regiment or platoon, or even what world she was at. All that mattered was what weapon she was issued, where the enemy is, and what her objectives were. War-gear: A Hotshot Laspistol & Plasma gun - frag & Krak grenades (and ONE Melta bomb), a cameleoline cloak over her Carapace armour, and lastly, her backpack of supplies (the usual; ammo packs, medkit, the glorious Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, respirator, etc. - nothing special)
player name : Bossaroo Character name: Jack Moso Gender: Male Age: 34 Appearance: short even for a Ratling coming in at around 3'3 the dark brown wild hair crowning his head and a matching beard underneath only broken by his trade mark grin with his tombstone like teeth . The helmet of his regiment slung from one of his hips usually and a few flasks of "liquid valor" poking out of his ammo belt History: one of 6 sons ; usual for ratlings, Jack had to scurry and scrabble most of his life to earn what was his. When the Imperial guard's Tithe ships arrived his family drew straws and Jack was the unlucky one and was sent off to the mustering fields. When he and the other Ratlings were given sniper rifles befitting of their role as scouts and battlefield snipers an unfortunate fact was discovered about jack. He couldnt hit the broadside of a baneblade if he was standing 5 feet away. In his dejection and desperation he drowned himself in liqour , which he had a passion for making. One night when the officers were out at the firing range he stumbled drunk towards them . He grabbed his rifle and started shooting scaring the life out of the officers . Much to their surprise he shot bullseye after bullseye in his drunken state. Giving a bow after every target on the range had a hole in its center before he passed put. After then he has always kept himself at the very least buzzed, the drunker he is the more precise his shots War-gear: Standard issue sniper rifle, flak armor , cut down camo cloak , combat knife, copious amounts of liqour
@Starcaller Transmechanic - see here: http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Transmechanic A whole job about communication - who do you think builds all the vox-towers, vox-beads, etc.? ;-) But they also keep Navigator chairs and similar intact, make sure the astropaths can use their rooms, etc. And since GM approved: Name: Deus Erin de Dominova ('de Dominova' being family name) Gender: Male Age: 55 Role: Transmechanic (Communication Specialist) Equipment: 1 Mechadendrite (center, behind the head) Vox-Caster Multi-Tools (Welder, Plasma-cutter, Superglue, Screwdriver, Wrench, etc.) Bionic Lower Legs + Feet & Hands & Left entire face, incl. eye Flak Armor High Quality 'de Massimo Dynasty' Las Pistol Description: Deus is not an impressive man in looks, but he knows what he is doing. He usually has his Vox Caster on his back, with the Mechadendrite coming out of where his spine is connected. Several Multi-Tools were 'hidden' within his robes as he could never know what he would need on the field and his mentor always said to be rather over-prepared than be met with an unforeseen consequence. He has short blonde hair, usually combed to the side, with his natural eye being bright blue, while the bionic (left) eye was glowing in the familiar deep ruby-red. Deus rarely has his hood up, only having it usually when he wants peace during work or during meetings when he doesn't want to be approached or talked to. History: Deus Erin comes from a proud family of Techpriests, the origin coming in a Techmarine who even is said to have served in the Great Crusade and had become a Forgemaster of the Deathwatch, thousands and thousands of years ago. Massimo de Dominova. However, there were only few privileged members in the de Dominova family. Few who ascended to Magos' status and Techmarines being also an exception, as none had the required training or location to really be recruited. And while Deus is at the lower end of the Mechanicus hierarchy, he finds purpose in his task by keeping everyone connected, which is important these days where more and more and more people have to work together. He feels like being the oil that keeps the gears running smoothly with one another. On Barnassus he did mostly Vox-Relay work planetary, however after escalation in the Calixis sector area as well as 'intel' that his mentor had, he was being moved to Perinetus. He had left ten actual brothers and sisters of the de Dominova family behind. A year later he heard of the events on Barnassus and realized that his Magos saved his life. Among his few possessions he took with him, was the las pistol of his belated father that was handed down to Deus Erin, as he had been the oldest living member back on Barnassus. Honoring the legacy of his family and his mentor, he would simply continue his work, wherever life would take him. Fixing all sort of communication devices, just with the difference that instead of planetary work, he ended up now working mostly on ships, as Perinetus was a huge shipyard. And that eventually led him to work for an Explorator fleet...
@Vlayden A nice Commissar... A NICE COMMISSAR!? Well, this can only be remedied by one thing . You just got yourself a Krieg Stormtrooper kids! And you think Commissars are bad xD
Alas, I'd decided against it. Junior Commissar's are but pansies-in-training to become the Terrors that are Commissars.
Character Sheet: GobMaw Name: Skud Gender: Ogryn? Age: Duuuuhhhh... Appearance: Big bald meat head, roughly standing at least twice the size of an average Imperium citizen History: If Ogryns can be considered just big dumb muscle, then Skud is one of the biggest and dumbest amongst them. Skyud is not really suitable for anything else in life other then taking orders and killing the enemies of Imperium. Which is fine, because Skud is really good at both...just not anything else that would require cognitive ability higher then a shovel. His claustrophobia even by Ogryn standards can be seen as a handicap, as it would take an entire squad of guardsmen just to push the frightened Ogryn into a chimera for deployment. And Emperor help him if he had to go anywhere with dark, tight spaces. As dim and as innocent as Skud is, he does seem to posses a bit of a hair-trigger temper in regards to pain. He'd fly into a horrible rage, incoherently babbling in low gothic, as he would then smash whatever caused him to feel hurt in the first place into a fine paste. This has been deemed suitable recourse in the Imperium's eyes. War-gear: Ripper Gun, Knuckle Dusters, Frag grenades, Carapace Armor
