BRING THEM ALL! THE GODS DEMAND MORE SACRIFICES. AND THE MORE SERVANTS, THE MORE SACRIFICES THAT MAY BE DONE!
Name: Rotticus Tubercules Class: Death Guard Helbrute Equipment: Plague Infested Dreadnought Chassis, Plague Auto-Canon, Plague Fist, Nurglings housed within the chassis Physical Description: A plague riddin rotting Dreadnought chassis, spewing pus and Nurgling's appearing from hidey holes History Summary: Rotticus was a Deathguard during the era of the Horus Heresy. As with a majority of the Dusk Raiders, he fell to Chaos alongside his primarch. Over the numerous years of helping spread Nurgle's rot and decay across the galaxy, Rotticus has been blessed by the Plaguefather with various diseases and other gifts. However over the course of time his body began rotting away, his body decaying to the point of nonfunctionality. Although such a display of decay may have been pleasing for the god of decay Rotticus was unable to spread the joys and love of Nurgle himself to others. As such, the continually rotting body of Rotticus was entombed into a claustrophobic metal sarcophagus of a Helbrute. Such a fate being horrifying for the Death Guard, forever being enclosed in an accursed metal shell and unable to spread Nurgle's plagues personally to those unfamiliar with his embrace. Though such a fate did not render Rotticus completely insane just yet, as he has been blessed with the children of Nurgle, Nurglings that infest the machine and keep the Death Guard Helbrute content with his existence for the time being. Taking it upon himself to be the caretaker and protector of the little ones, and help them spread Nurgle's pestilence to all around him. Notable Feats: In an attempt to spread Nurgle's affection across the Imperium Rotticus alongside a number of his brothers successfully boarded and corrupted a trading cruiser with Nurgle's infectious love. Where they then took the cruiser to its original target destination and used the ship to spread pestilence across an imperial capital, bringing even more into the fold, unwillingly or otherwise. Any and all Imperial boarders that attempted to invade the vessel was met with a walking machine of death and decay spewing plague covered shells and deathly diseases. Nurglings spewing forth from the walking infested killing machine that was Rotticus, laughing with glee as the children of Nurgle spread the love of Papa Nurgle to everyone around them.
So, here's my sheet. Name: Therena Vastra "Class": Cultist/Psyker Equipment: Skitarii Warplate, Arc Rifle, Hotshot Laspistol, Arc-Maul ,Omnispex, (All Stolen) Physical Description: Youthful in appearance and looking no later in her age than her early 20's, Therena Vastra is notable for her brunette, shoulder length hair, and purple eyes. Maintains an attractive physique, as befitting her Patron, often shown off with an asymmetrical outfit, revealing on one side and more covering of her flesh on the other. Meanwhile, her armor is customised to display her shade of eggplant purple on it's robing, rather than the original heraldry of the Forge World Skitarii she had claimed it from. History summary: Born to parents not of the Imperium, Therena was pretty much born into the worship of Slaanesh, living on some backwater world as a Psyker. Naturally, such a out of the way place didn’t hold much of her attention with a wanderlust for something beyond her homeworld, and by the tender age of 16 she had left her world, going beyond her simple life for one of a raider on a void ship, changing hands with her fortunes: barely better than a slave on the worst of times, and sometimes capable of trying riches only available to the wealthy and powerful. Notable feat: Her most notable raid was a strike upon a research Station run by the Adeptus Mechancum. Having survived a catastrophically failed breach of the station with much higher than expected casualties, Vastra managed to turn what could have been a crippling blow by stealing a prototype that was aboard the AdMech station, forcing her to defeat a Skitarii Tribune by herself. Naturally, she helped herself to the gear of the Mechanicum’s troops afterwards, to help her survive longer as a warrior for longer.
Pre-approved by the GM. Name: Lanius, the Silver Baron of Dawnbreak; Class: ex-Assault Marine of the Flawless Host; Equipment: Sathra - a giant powered scimitar; Spoiler Tempered with timid alloys of unknown metals, this black blade ends in scissors that can open up at wearers behest and either wrest away an opponents blade or its limb.Despite its rather plain,black appearance, the haft of the blade is inlaid with platinum of exquisite detail - from it protruding a chain that goes around the wearers wrist, lest the blade is dropped during combat. Mathra - a barbed harpoon; -A collection of torture daggers; -A modified variant of Mark VIII power armor; Physical Description: How does one describe perfection?Words are petty insults and mental images conjured by mortal minds from such words are sacrilege to the pristine, pale and unholy beauty of Lanius, the self-made and self-appointed Silver Baron of a deserted world.Alas, one must attest such eye-gouging beauty in written form, if only to leave an example. Long,pale patrician face, chiseled by a maker guided by no less then a divine hand.Such a face has two purple eyes engraved in it, framed by a silver curtain of white long hair that flows all the way to the shoulders.Such beauty is rarely kept away from others by a way of helmet.The rest of the body, more so, as Lanius`s physique is shielded by a Mark VIII colored in mesmerizing variants of purple and silver.Over his one shoulder and his back, a drape of finest silk is flowing around him, adorned with arcane runes and symbols proclaiming his loyalty to the Prince of Chaos, framed by a mane of a rare grey fur. At the left hip is his blade, Sathra,resting in her ebony laqured scabbard.At his back is the barbed harpoon, only utilized when someone needs to be humiliated or a wretched slave that wants to escape. History summary: Born on a Paradise World of Dawnbreak, to a mother and father who belonged to a serf caste, forever indentured to the privilege lords to serve their every whim and desire.Among such planetary bachanallia, too young Lanius was a witness (and often an object of) many pleasures and artistic forms that his young minds couldn't even phantom.His first memories were of carnal passions and finer arts. Until the unspeakable alien came from beyond the stars and categorically slaughtered everything that was perfect and beautiful.However even without the beauty and purity of human form, the Eldar slaughtered with impossible grace of their lithe bodies and perfect precision of their weird and deadly weapons. In the wake of their raid, others came and took advantage of the planet and its surviving populace, hiding in every crevice of their ruined world. Last, but not least were a band of Flawless Host who took slaves to replenish their ranks.Small amount manage to pass, or rather say, survive their ever-seeking standards for perfection. After almost a hundred years, the drug-induced miasma that is usually the lifespan of a Marine in Flawless Host, Lanius climbed among the ranks of the daemon-worshiping transhumans, learning of the warp and the divinities that reside within. Notable feats: After slaughtering CO for endangering his perfection with a mission that was simply, beneath him, Lanius took surviving members of his brotherhood, at least those that were still sober from blood-churling narcomania that usually fuels them, and raided a neighbourhooding system. Escaping on a stole system-monitor laden with skulls of his brothers, loot and slaves, he gave it all as a form of pay for the invitation into the Vindicators as well as better conditions. After all, he is royalty.
Name - Solithar Class - Apothecary, Night Lord Equipment - Narthecium, MKIV Power Armour, Chainsword, Umbra Pattern Bolter. Physical Description - Armour is in midnight clad, only distinguishing feature compared to other Night Lords being the symbol of the Apothecary, the Prime Helix mixed covering his right shoulder pad. Skin is snow white, eyes are jet black as is his short trimmed hair and his face is relatively clear of markings. History - Being part of 9th Company during the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy, Solithar saw more than his own fair share of death and destruction that many others could only dream of. The most notable and strong memory in Solithar's mind was the Thramas Crusade with the dead and wounded being in what to many seemed countless. Gene-Seed was harvested and those who could be brought back to fighting capability were and those who were beyond saving were killed off or left to their own thoughts for their last moments of life as more important issues were arriving. With the separation of the Night Lords into smaller groups Solithar went with the remnants of 9th Company even with a new leader put in command ever since Malithos Kun was killed off by Sevatar but they went off to spread fear around the Imperium. Years past with the 9th Company weakening and dwindling so 9th Company moved to more desperate measures ended up with them deciding to raid an Imperial Space Marine Chapter's Gene-Seed stocks for an act to terrify the Imperium, strengthen their own standing and even to weaken the Imperium's defences. Notable Feats - During the raid on a Chapter's Gene-Seed stock which took a turn for the worse shortly after they made landfall, Solithar took it upon himself taking the Gene-Seed and destroyed those which they couldn't take. He now is rather influential with access to a large stockpile of gene-seed. When the Vindicators learnt of this they were eager to have a boost to their numbers. _________________________________________________________ Let me know if anything is out of place. Slap me if need be.
Name: - Sareth Lumen "Class": Merc weapons expert. Equipment: Armor - Stolen carapace armor with integrated Grav chute and helmet Intergrated Grapnal,Spider pads, Long las, chain sword, Hotshot las pistol, 1 frag, 1 krak, Combat knife, Repair kit (For her own bionics and usual weapon matience or minor works with explsoives such as grenades.) (Hot shot packs energy pack for long las and hot shot) Physical Description: Often seen in full black armor Sareth has several abnormal features that set her apart from normal humans, being both of her legs from the thighs have been replaced by what look to be two Bionic like enhancements that increase her Mobility, another abornaml thing about her is the her arms being two lumbs near her shoulders and biceps from surgery gland implantation that increase her strength beyond her limitations she once had. Several scars around the neck indicate she got into a possible scrape that almost ended her life and a Former patch of skin indicates she once had a tattoo on the black of her neck. a odd tattoo with what looks to be a claw can be seen on her right hand. History summary: Orignally a ganger turned guardsmen before being taken in by the Inquisition Sareth doens't like to talk about her time being taken around by the Inquisition forced to wear a bomb color and have experiments done on her and be there cannon fodder tends to effects one views on outlook and views of life and whos there allies, First chance she could she took paying off with her escaping a explosive death then becoming a pirate for a short time before becoming a free lancer merc for hire for several years trying to get enough money to return to where she came from and become more powerful enough to make she never gets put under anyones thumb again and to possibly find a few people that went missing to her life would be a bonus as well. Notable feats; It was a hire on for a new job a lot of mercs and a big possibility of pay out from a someone who wanted to raid a Imperial supply ship carrying supplies to another warzone She and several other thousand mercs were sent on the job. What they were expecting was a a navy ship filled with guard, What they got was a Navy ship with a detachment of scions and guard gear, the ensuing surprise and several more from there employer's and almost being canon fodder again pushed Sareth to near death when she and the remaing mercs battle a Temptetus Scion command squad while they and there employers took the ship. After the mission and the battle was done Sareth Learned what there mission really was to be the first scouts on a alpha legion raid, The alpha legion cell using the mercs as scouts and fodder while there forces trailed behind on the raid of the imperial vessel to help gain tribute to join the Vindicators raid, Taking what little she was allowed from the gear within the imperial ship before before deciding to join up with the raid as well to see if she could get any more work with these Vindicators and if it would be worth risking her hide in being one of the few mercs to walk away with surviving not only a battle with the tempestus scions but as a former pawn of the alpha legion. (Heres a attempt at a Sheet)
Name: Stakh “Steel-Shaman” "Class": Gave Operator Equipment: Customised Carapace Armour, Lascarbine, Veletaris Power Axe, Stub Revolver, tools for work on combustion engines (all of the aforementioned looted over the years of raiding under Ghurog), Beast-Hide shawl and a rebreather she carries as a habitual reminder of her homeworld Physical Description: Spoiler Over six feet tall, built like a brick wall, and with an impressively large set of caprine horns that originate from her forehead and curve over her head before terminating in upward-pointed tips, Stakh is a proud beast-kin. Tough, sunburnt skin makes up the top half of her body, and looks somewhat human even if closer inspection reveals that it's closer to rough, tanned leather; covered in scars produced by cutting, biting, scratching, bullet holes, burning, and any kind of wound imaginable – her most prized scar was caused by a Whiteshield's bayonet charge, and is an elongated stab wound located right where her heart is, atop the left half of her breast. Her right arm has been severed at the elbow, and as a mark of her odd position in the Herd, replaced by a functional five-digited prosthetic that she keeps in impeccable shape. Its fingers terminate in sharp claws that her flesh hand lacks. In numerous, seemingly random places, she has jammed metal shards into her flesh that jut out as a testament to the Beastman tolerance for pain, the cruelty of their traditions, and the oddness of practices that pop up when they are drunk to the point of mindlessness after a successful raid. Stakh's lower half, meanwhile, is covered in dark brown, shaggy fur and bent into the shape reminiscent of a goat's, even terminating in black hooves that, similar to her upper body, have had spikes jammed into them to look more menacing. Her goat-like tail has been cut off, leaving a scar that is hard to discern under the fur. As her mark of Gavehood, her face is more human than most Gors'; this allows her to speak the Gothic language without the awkwardness most of her kin would have even if it makes her incapable of braying. Nevertheless, her face isn't feminine or attractive by human standards even if only somewhat deviant – being long with piss yellow eyes too large and a bit too far apart, an unnaturally flat nose and a mouth full of sharp teeth and fangs capable of ripping a man's throat out, hidden behind thin, cracked and scarred lips that are without any natural colour. On top of this, her face is much like the rest of her body covered in scars of various origins. Stakh's ears are oddly pointed, and her hair is long and the same dark brown (and of the same shaggy, greasy, tangledness) as her goat legs. When not warring, she usually clads herself in whatever cloth and hide she can grab. At any other time, Stakh is most usually found wearing a heavy carapace armour she has scavenged together and sometimes crudely, sometimes surprisingly lovingly modified to fit her shape. A blackened, intimidating thing, it is covered in nonsensical beastman runes and carvings supposedly paying tribute to the Dark Gods, with a prominent eye-shape upon its right pauldron, and sharp spikes affixed to it in many, superfluous places. Attached to it are a multitude of beastman-horn and bone charms hanging from leather strings and cloth belts, all of them belonging to human foes or beastman rivals she killed over the years. Chief among her trinkets is a shawl-hood made from the hide of the shaman on Tyr who raised her, and opposed Ghurog, and was killed and skinned by her personally. While she wears it as a lucky charm during battle, she also puts it over her head while praying to the Dark Gods. History Summary: Spoiler A Bestigor formerly of the Ghost Hides Warband, Stakh's previous history is one of rebellion and hatred. Born unfree on the polluted Industrial World of Tyr, the girl who would later be rebaptised as 'Stakh' was the daughter of pure, unmutated labourers; while the planet was no stranger to Beastmen, they were regarded as pitiful, barely-sentient but workable creatures who kept to themselves and served well as expendable muscle. Some of them made up part of the PDF, but most slaved in the massive factory complices of the world – to Tyrans, they were simply a fact of life. The existence of gaves, Beastmen born to normal humans, wasn't, however. And the hoofed child was thrown to these creatures only shortly after her mother was burned for perfidy. Unlike her kin of blood, the primitive abhumans took her in without question, labelled her a Gor upon affirming that the babe had developing horn stubs, and raised her among their own kind. As soon as she could walk, the young creature toiled in the factories, using her strength that, even while still developing, eclipsed that of some human men. But unlike her fellow horn-bearers, the gave was not content slaving for masters that hated them. She knew the average beastman was not necessarily dumber than their non-abhuman cousins, but they were certainly too easily cowed by the religious control put upon them and their fear of the mechanical. Mayhaps there it was the human blood in her veins, but she shared neither respect for the Emperor nor superstition regarding technology, and in a streak of odd rebellion, spent most of her hours allotted to eating and sleeping in autodidactically learning the way of the engine, mostly with discarded or broken working machines. Sometimes, however, a group of amused and bored human workers could be found who let her drive and interact with whatever vehicles and tools they used simply for the novelty of an adolescent beastwoman actually (and oddly often, successfully) using those things that could make a grown Gor go running. Given this malcontent's feelings, the beastman community was not surprised to see her, even mature, come running at the first call to rebellion, led by one Ghurog Spirit-Walker. Ghurog was an odd specimen; stark white in fur and hide, with a quadruple set of gleaming black horns. Nobody had ever seen him before he suddenly appeared in the slums and recruited the young, the impressionable, the discontent, and the glory-seekers; and he was wearing trinkets of certainly unnatural, mayhaps magical origin. He spoke of glorious Gods leading him through visions and avatars and that he knew their cause was true, and he seemed more magical and arcane than any of their shamans. Sure, it had not needed an apparent messiah of Beastmankind to gain the Gave's trust, but it did reaffirm her desire to destroy these human chains put upon them in the name of a false God. Those beastmen that did not join him were sacrificed to Ghurog's dark Gods. At first, the calm and man-blooded Gave was shocked by the frenzy that the Spirit-Walker managed to whip up in her usually docile brethren, but while she resisted the mindless fury, she certainly had no qualms about putting her village and its fellow 'resisters' to the torch after depriving them of their horns. In fact, all 'loyalists' (or 'sheep', as some of Ghurog's favoured began to label those that peacefully resisted the rebellion of their kind) hardy enough to survive were de-horned, which was the greatest shame and degradation in their society (according to Ghurog, at least) and made to lead the charges against Tyr's human population. Their naked bodies absorbed enough ammo for the naturally fierce horde of Gors to crush the poorly-defended planet, at great losses. Whereas most helots chose to stick with the axes and primitive weapons they knew best, the Gave made it a point to upgrade her weapons quickly by picking up the guns and arms of the fallen – an act that made her fellows distance themselves from her. But as she grew more proficient with them, including racking up a surprising number of kills by hijacking a cargo transport and simply running over quite a few PDF soldiers, Ghurog graced her with his attention. He too had a hatred for man's civilisation, but he appreciated her wits, likening it to a gift from one of his masters. After Tyr had gone dark, a herdstone, solitary monument to the might of the Beast, was erected under the white-hide's orders before he assembled the mightiest warriors among the Tyrians, and the Gave, and left the world through a dark portal to raid other unfortunate planets. Ghurog himself freely admitted to his flock that he did not know where his portals took him; but he always came out on worlds with sizeable, oppressed Beastman populations, be they Gors, Minotaurs, or their other, obscure breeds. But the Gave didn't care – she took pleasure in the killing and destruction of the humans that loathed them so much. Of her original brethren, few survived after the first raids, and as her intelligence and proficiency with 'the abominable machine' grew, the Beastlord took note of this, and made her and other outstanding warriors his personal retinue, Bestigors, and gave her the Herd-name of Stakh. It supposedly meant something in some forgotten language, but all the newly-baptised cared about was that it put her into a more powerful position to crush the Imperium. “Imperium”. It had taken years for her to know the foe had a name. Over the years, Stakh remained with Ghurog even as the rest of the Herd changed, becoming an alien to the ever-new, always-young Gors they recruited, but a trusted ally and 'shaman of the metal' to the Bestigors and her Beastlord. None truly questioned her origins as a Gave for too long, for she was always among the fiercest to slay her father's kind – even if she did it with guns or vehicles rather than axes preferentially. When Ghurog had finally died, slain by a lucky plasma shot to the head his wards did not protect him from, the Herd too laid bleeding in a series of infighting, squarrelling, and petty warfare. Stakh was not pleased with this disarray; she preferred the (only relatively) more ordered times under a Beastlord, and felt that any new leader would not measure up to the Spirit-Walker. In absence of one powerful enough to open portals like the white one, she prayed devoutly for a way to continue the destruction of Man. The next night, after another battle that left the Ghost Hide decimated, a vessel belonging to Chaos Pirates touched down on the corpse-covered ground like a parade stepping on rose petals. If not before, it was at this moment that Stakh became a true believer, and bargained her way onto the ship, to continue a revenge nobody in particular had instigated. Notable feats: Spoiler While it was the Tyrian Uprising that made Stakh a blooded Gor, it was the Burning of Capricia that made her a true warrior of the Dark Gods and endowed her with the Power Axe that she so prizes. It was mostly a foot (or, well, hoof) war upon a barely-habitable swamp world where an axe-wielding and newly named Stakh fought as a coherent pack with Ghurog and his Bestigors, taking skulls and rending pitiful human flesh in the hundreds along their Herd. What few battle tanks the Imperials possessed could barely move out of their bases, for they were too easily consumed by the ravenous swamp. In the second half of the conflict, after a particularly gruelling assault that saw the death of all Minotaurs – caused by their own bloodgreed, and not particularly grieved by Stakh – she managed to capture a Leman Russ which was incapable to move but certainly able to fire. Conscripting a few of their more physically impressing Gors (which meant those whose build rivalled Astartes), she manned the main gun while her kin simply pulled the vehicle out of their own physical strength. After initial problems, Stakh had proven that her 'mechanic witchcraft' also applied to tank guns, and her tank chariot played a decisive role in destroying the last bastions of resistance before it was made the base for their herdstone when the war was finally over. In recognition for her aptitude with tech and role in their victory, Stakh was awarded the Veletaris Power Axe that Ghurog fond hidden away in the room of the planet's 'king' and the nickname of 'Steel-Shaman'; and became a feared, but uncontested, champion of his Herd.
Name: Forrick Kooru Class: Chaos Cultist Equipment: Combat knife, Carapace Armour (Chest piece), Rebreather, Medical Kit, Sickle (2), frag grenade (2), Assault Shotgun, Stubber Pistol. Physical Description: Kooru is a human being who can be summed up swiftly as a beaten up stray dog. He garbs himself in an outfit cobbled together from his journey his torso covered in the chest piece of an Imperial Guardsman’s carapace armour, scarred and dented in places, his legs with pants bearing many pockets, metal plates being wrapped around his shins, covering from his knees to his ankles, rust more than apparent on the plates. A sleeveless long coat, frayed and torn, is worn, bearing a strange insignia of a trio of winking nurglings upon it’s back. His upper arms are left bare, save for the bandages and stitches upon his flesh, while vambraces of metal cover his forearms, whilst wearing fingerless gloves. Upon his face, Kooru wears a rebreather over his mouth and nose, with a metal mask atop it, covering the rest of his visage. His hair is long, filthy, and dark brown, with various small items braided into various places. History: The life of Forrick Kooru was one of simplicity, days spent toiling away upon his farm, growing a crop for the local authorities, always being told his sweat and hard work pleased the Solar King, his offerings being sent to his distant palace. It was a plain life, where Kooru never bothered to think about what lay beyond his own county, much less that which dwelt beyond in the stars. There was talk of course, of the distant shrine of Sanctia, a far off place in the skies where only the most faithful dwelt, and from the many religious orators that came to tell them of the glories of their deity, and for it all, Kooru merely accepted this as his lot in life, up until the invasion. Word came first to the man, that would only bring confusion, that Sanctia, the heavenly dwelling on the doorstep to the Solar King’s own palace, would be under siege from some strange beasts. Talk of monstrous creatures, green and savage, consuming the corpses of angels, would spread like wildfire across his farming community. Soon, fear would be apparent, as all knew that if the angels fell, who would stop these green devils from dropping down and ravaging their own homes? The answer soon became apparent, as one day, fire lit the skies, the sea ships that plowed the tides of the heavens, crashing down to the earth, broken and shattered. Kooru remembers little of this time, save for despair and fear and lots of destruction. Women clad in strange, baroque armour, unleashing torrents of flame to cleanse the impure, lumbering beasts, each taller than a man, coming forth, shouting and moaning. The crops were soon gone, his house with it, the family he’d known, eaten by the flames, as the warriors claiming to fight for the Solar King, this Emperor of Man, bitterly raged against the coming tide of monsters. The last time he saw the blue skies of his home, he was being herded away with other refuges, into a defensive keep that he was told would hold against the invaders. It stood barely seven hours, before a great series of tremors and booming echoes began to cause it to collapse. Kooru remembers running, he remembers the tide of bodies, panic in the air, moving like the herds he used to tend, animals full of fear. He remembers a door being broken, the groaning roars of their foes breaking in. The rush of the mob, the crack of fire that put down dozens in seconds, Korru remembers it all, all of it, being shoved along, not sure where he was heading, as rain fell down upon him, before he himself was falling. He didn’t know that the enemy had driven the mob, in their fear, right off a cliff, that the people, desperate the escape, decided a chance at a drop that far, would be better than being eaten by the bloated, green beasts. All he knew was that one moment he was moving, the next, he slammed against a wet, meaty surface, and all was darkness. The pile of bodies, the mound of corpses, for a time unknown, Kooru was trapped within, the dead and dying surrounding him, his mind echoing with the cries of the broken, the crippled, as their lives ended. The only agony worse, would be the silence that followed, as save for the storm he still heard raining down above, there was not a sound. The man knows he spent many days beneath, satiating his thirst by the streams that ran through the crevices in this mound, until his hunger began to roar within. He can recall the stench of the dead around him, the smell of waste and disgust he felt, as he struggled with a simple choice of give in, or live on. In the end, it took only a few tries for him to swallow a hunk of meat, without sending it back up right after, as the man endured. And for a time, that was existence, dwelling in the dark, tearing into food when needed, trying not to think of what would come next. His world was gone, replaced by the prison he was trapped in, his hopes of a simple life being eradicated by the invaders. In his darkest moments, he could only wonder if his planet still existed, after all it had endured. The answer would come with a new sound, as he felt a tremor moving through the ground, before an explosion thundered through his ears. The world around him would explode into light, as he felt himself, and his several rotted neighbors, go flying through the air, before he crashed down again, his landing softened and goopy, before he’d fall out of consciousness once more. His eyes took time to adjust, being stuck in the dark for so long, but when they saw what was before them, Kooru wept. His world was still here, it’s skies were green now, it’s clouds rank and dark, the fields and forests rotted away, yet, it was still alive, still enduring, just as he had. Getting to his knees, the man would laugh, his voice rasping, his body aching, yet the laughter came abundantly, for his world was saved. He wondered where the invaders were, had the women managed to fend them off? The sounds of gunfire in the air drew his attention, as he looked about, and saw around him, a field of battle. He saw the bodies of the warriors of the Solar King scattered about, but he saw more than this. Great beings strode along, moving towards the now distant front line, their armour green, dented and rusting, their bodies covered in boils and injuries and rot. The giants moved forth with notched blades, and rumbling war engines, sputtering black smoke into the air. Many questions passed through Kooru’s mind, at who these strangers were, how they had arrived here, and yet, as his gaze turned, his mind would go blank. The being stood as a god amongst the soldiers, his figure coated in a long cloak, armoured with a strange, mystifying plate of armour. A hood rose to shroud his visage, and in one hand, the being grasped a massive, lethal scythe. The legendary figure, would find itself standing tall, as the clouds above broke for a moment, coating him in light, as Kooru realized whom he looked upon. The Solar King had come, he had come and he had brought his angels, whom had endured so much, just to save his world. In all his life, Kooru clings to this day’s memory like no other, for it is the day his greatest purpose was found. The man never had a chance to get closer to the divine being, for, as he crawled through the mud towards him, the Solar King would vanish onwards, beyond his reach. As such, he took up a solemn vow, that should it require the rest of his entire life, Kooru would kneel before this being once again, and offer up the thanks of his entire world, for it was only proper of him. Since then, Kooru has travelled, sneaking aboard ships, posing as fallen guardsmen, and fighting his way across battlefields, all in the pursuit of finding the one he seeks. Over the years, Kooru has managed to not only endure, but make some gain on his task, by discovering not only the name of his god’s homeworld, but the name of the Solar King himself. Mortarion. Notable feats: Kooru is a cultist with little claim to fame, and largely only has survived due to a relentless determination. As such, when he heard another mortal man come crashing through the doors of a small time bar, bragging of his invitation to meet with a mighty warband, Kooru quickly thought through a few things. A mighty warband will have many things, such as connections, information and ships, all that which he would need to find his world’s Savior, and swiftly came to a decision. The man knew not what this gritted veteran, Caroch Arthist, had done to earn his place with The Vindicators, nor did he really care, for after a night of drinking and celebration, all his fame and skill couldn’t save him from the effects of alcohol in his system. Kooru’s knife tore out his throat as easily as it would any other man’s, and as simple as this, the invitation passed from one being to another. Grafting the fingertips of the dead man to his own, when identification was needed, the cultist would be accepted, and without much effort, be sent on his way. (If there's any problems, let me know and I'll get to work fixing it. Also, I know there's technically no feat, but I find the idea of killing someone who was invited, and taking his place to be really funny.)
