Vargis 10 is a desolate planet on the outer edges of the imperium, home to a large imperial guard outpost meant to keep an eye out for any signs of the green tide... But very soon, they will find there is much worse forces hidden within, drawing the scum of the galaxy like a magnet.
A massive force of 3 different fleets are coming in on different directions, all from different sides, the "word bearers" chaos legion, the "deathskulls" ork clan, and the "black heart" dark eldar kabal are all converging on the planet for currently unknown reasons, the 501 force, the imperial guardsmen stationed on Vargis 10 have sent out a transmission in hopes that it will call in reinforcements.
But, thats assuming that whover might find the transmission can make it in time.
race (for this one it'll be: Human (terran), human (other), eldar, human (chaos), ork, or dark eldar.):
appearance: Wears a horrifying veil of human skin over his face and several pikes with impaled heads and other body pearts sitcking out of his back. He has a belt of haywire grenades along his body, and a set of strong power armor.
race: dark eldar
personality: Cruel, merciless, and absolutely insane, he'll kill you, then have your body resurrected so you can die over and over again. He'll go that far.
wargear: Agonizer blades, needle gun, power armor, horrifying mask, haywire grenades, and a squadron of incubus guards.
appearance: Astera wears an old, worn suit of Flak Armor. along with a long black cloth that she wraps around her mouth like a scarf. Her body is rather slim, and her skin is light and pale. She has green eyes, and her black hair is tied back in a pony tail. Astera has multiple scars running down her arms and some parts of her legs. she also sports well as a cut on her right cheek. She folds the sleeves on her uniform back , and covers her forearms with rudimentary bandages.
race: Human (other, Cadian)
personality: She is a rather silent person. Astera keeps to herself most of the time, being very hesitant to let anybody else into her life. She values human life, and is determined to fight for the betterment of mankind. However, she keeps herself distant from her fellow men, for reasons currently unknown.
wargear: Astera refuses to adopt the standard lasgun offered to her by her imperial guard regiment. She uses a haphazardly buit sniper rifle which only accepts one round at a time. This weapon looks like an unusual mishmash of usual autoguns mixed with some other scraps. The scope looks haphazardly built to, stuck to the top of the gun. The stock seems to have been hand carved, and wrapped in some bandages to avoid splinters. the barrel is rather long, very long in fact, and it has an in build bipod. The reciever looks somewhat well crafted, and it looks like it only accepts one round at a time. She also carries a used combat knife, which looks like it needs some sharpening
occupation (or rank): Imperial guard trooper, conscripted, private first rank, isnt looking forward to a promotaion anytime soon.
(here ya go! I'll be making another OC sheet too. I just don't have time currently)
(also, how did a stormtrooper gain Power Armor? Im pretty sure that only members of the inquisition can ever hope to gain power armor. Even Commsiar Yarrick wears carapace.)
(You mean Tar'mmon's stormtroopers or Archon Id'arsaith? Because I only mentioned the archon having power armor and I was thinking a totally different power armor, like what the incubi wear (and the archon, yeah.)).
(ah, I get it. Well, the term Power Armor is only used to refer to the one used by the Adeptus Astartes, or other influential figures of the Imperium. Alien counterparts are usually given a different name.)
appearance: Haucross' body has been modified to an extreme degree in order to maximize his combat efficiency, and to rival the strength of the great Space Marines themselves. his lower body, including both legs and his waist, have been replaced with a more efficient cybernetic version. Wires jut out from the bionics here and there but they're generally well protected and well armored. His bones have been covered in resilient steel due to a recent Skeletal petrifaction surgery. This allows him to withstand a great deal of punishment during battle. Usually, having your bones covered in metal would be a great burden to your body, and would severely hinder a combatant's speed during battle. This is not the case wiht Haucross. For in addition to his extreme physical health, he has weaved tough strands into his muscles to give him extreme strength during battle. His lungs have been replaced with a mechanical inhalation system, which is capable of filtering most poisonous gases. His skull has a subdermal plate installed within to protect against attacks dealt to the head. His skin is a light gray due to both the influence of the warp and the multiple implants installed withing his body. His veins are colored black due to the black blood which he has pumped into his system, allowing his wounds to heal quicker. As for his clothing, Haucross dons a suit of heavy carapace armor, made from a mishmash of Astartes Scout carapace. He wears a long black cloak that runs down his back, donning the symbol of Khorne, the blood god. His armor and clothing sports some small trophies here and there. An ork Tooth, or a tyraind claw. He makes sure that these mementos are visible, but not to the point that it puts him at a disatvantage.
race: Human, barely (Chaos)
personality: Haucross embodies rage and anger of the most extreme sort. He harbors an intense resentment towards the Imperium, especially towards the Adeptus Astartes. He will do what he can to please the Blood God in order to gain even more strength and power. He will burn all that opposes his God without pity nor remorse. But to his allies, he feels a sense of loyalty which is rather uncommon for a minion of Chaos. Haucross is a believer of Chaos Undivided, but he leans significantly towards the worship of the blood god Khorne.
wargear: Haucross wield a Hellblade, the primary weapon used by a Khornate Bloodletter. This blade allows him to tear into the flesh of all who stands in the way of his path to glory. This blade grows stronger with every kill, gaining great strength and power when used in the battlefield. Howeveer, Haucross finds it difficult to put the blade away, as it's constant thirst for blood prevents him from doing so. In addition to his Hellblade, Haucross uses a boltgun attached to his left arm, in order to finish off anyone who would dare to flee from a one on one duel.
occupation (or rank): Leader of the Black Scourge warband, a rather small Chaos warband numbering about forty or fifty members. Haucross has decided to join the Word Bearers on their conquest of Vargis 10, in the hope that he could gain more glory and infamy from serving with the revered Chaos Space Marines of the Word Bearers Legion, or what's left of it.
Appearance: Raknav would look like a horribly amalgamation of wires and servos to any lowly mortal. However, in the eyes of an aspiring champion such as Haucross, he is a valuable asset. Raknav has replaced most of his body with cybernetics and bionics, and most of the flesh that he has left behind has been mutated by the powers of the warp. He wears a defiled red mechanicus cloak over his body in order to look somewhat human. He cares not about appearances though, for he knows that flesh is inferior to machine.
Race: Part human, part machine (chaos)
personality: Raknav is surprisingly loyal to Haucross and his warband, doing more than what he is expected to do. He displays a respectful attitude to the lord of the warband, and he does not wish to disappoint him. He is attracted to technology to a nearly fanatical level, doing whatever he can to scrounge up as much as he can.
wargear: Raknav has attached multiple mechadendrites to his back, which he can directly interface with thanks to his MIU. Raknav has a a couple of blade tines extending from his fingertips, which helps him manipulte sensetive machinery. He has also installed some maglev coils in order to help him jumpstart electronics. Some of his mechadendrites are capable of self defense, such as his servo arm which can wreak havok in close combat, and some ballistic mechadendrites sporting plasma pistols.
1 day after the arrival of the word bearers ship over Vargis 10, Sergeant Tar'mmon Kes was watching the massive, floating hunk of twisted metal roll over the skies like a stormcloud, the cannons had let fire on it the day it arrived, and they've been pounding the hull ever since, but it hasnt moved or acted... Yet.*
Asters gazed up at the Word Bearers vessel, she has heard stories of their atrocities, and the crimes that they have committed in the name of their twisted deities. She wondered how it was even possible that the emperor's angels of death could be seduced by the ruinous powers of Chaos.
She slid the cleaning rod into the barrel of her rifle. Her weapon needed heavy maintainence every now and then, it was no lasgun. Astera enjoyed the cleaning however. It allowed her to connect with
Her weapon, and form a bond with it.
(Ill be using my Chaos characters once the correct situation is set up. Needless to say, the hype train is going through the roof.)
Tar'mmon Kes noticed Asters, they were on the battlements of a massive fortress, but no doubt it will hold well-*
A massive red beam of hellmagic blasted from the chaos ship, there was an outpost, in one of the few nice valleys on the planet... In moments the valley was gone, all the way from where they were was just a red glow, Tar'mmon scowled.*
"They're finally pushing their move... By the emperor..."
His squad's vox operator arrived.*
"Reports of daemons, sir! Pouring from the valley!"
"The generals orders will be in place in already, we'll be moving down, facing hell."
Tar'mmon would begin to feel very uneasy and uncomfortable once he got within close proximity of Astera. Astera inched away from Tar'mmon, her head tilted forwards. Her hair slid forward so that some of it draped over her eyes, covering them. She didn't say a single word.
Astera slowly nodded, squeezing the rifle close to her chest. She was lucky to have been able to sneak herself into the imperial guard, however, she was expected to perform well. After all, the last thing she wanted was to be handed over to the inquisition.
(Yeah, the blood ravens might show up later on, but theres already chaos.)
Down below, the battle began. Tar'mmon's squad was slowly advancing upon one of the decimated outpost buildings, they had brought in setinels, flak cannons, cadian and vostroyan troops, and, judging from the loud, barking voice, a very rowdy Commisar by the name of Berich, he quite well remembered his presence on the walls a few days ago. Tar'rmon was ordered to take and hold a sniping posiiton for another squadron, one with an alleged "capable sniper". *
As soon as they entered the building, they were set upon a most horrifying sight- It was certainly no daemon Tar'mmon has seen, it looked almost like a massive, bloodcoated, blade covered lion with a swinging scorpions tail, it had made a little nest out of dead comrades and heretics alike.*
They started firing at the monstrosity with all they had. (in other words, just damn lazguns.) a large third eye opens up on the creature that shoots a burning beam at one of the troops, who dodges just in time thanks to his sergeant, Tar'mmon. Looks like the eye is quite snipeable.*
(Damn times zones. But guess what, I won this time. I stayed up so that we can rp quicker
HAH, beat that, time zones.)
Astera quickly evaluates the issue at hand, and came to a conclusion. She bit her finger, until she produced a small cut. Astera then removed a round from her ammunition sack and covered the top with her blood, the blood of a pariah. She then loaded the ammunition into her rifle. She released a long breath, keeping the rifle steady. She accounted for the multiple different factors that could interfere with her shot. She needed to make the shot, and she needed to make it now. Astera pulled the trigger, and a loud bang was heard as the rifle discharged its blood-covered bullet towards the eye of the daemon.
Astera let out a small sigh of relief. She relaxed her muscles and leaned her head back. Astera pulled another round out and loaded it into her rudimentary, haphazardly crafted rifle, before looking down the scope again.
Several chaos space marines, a squad of about 8 exited, her earlier observations were true, they seemed like khornites, but also... Almost too much like slaaneshites. They were wearing the trimmed down armor common on warriors of slaanesh, but also blades engraved in their skin, armor, and blood coating every single part of them like a veil.*
Astera concluded that her flimsy weapon could do nothing against the indomitable might of an Astartes, even if she somehow managed to get past the layers of plasteel and ceramite that composed their suit of power armor. She decided to stay silent, hiding behind cover. She didnt want to fire out of fear that she might get caught.
Astera hugged her rifle, and curled up into a ball, hiding behind a wrecked Rhino. She was just a young girl, she didn't deserve to be in this position. Her very birth was a form of heresy according to most of the zealous warriors of the imperium. All of her fears drilled into her mind at that very moment. And she sat there in a catatonic state, a state of absolute fear and terror. She barely breathed as she held herself still.
Astera was shivering uncontrollably, her face twitching every now and then. The screams, she could still hear the screams. She couldn't hear anything else but the screams. She curled up even more, clutching her beloved rifle.
Astera slowly calmed down, looking up at the two troops that flanked her. She stood up, slowly and shakily, looking out into the distance. Looking at the predator that housed those who slaughtered her comrades.
There was a rather large lander parked right beside the bladed stronghold. It seems there was a rather minor warband setting up camp beside the stronghold. Men were carrying munitions from the lander and placing it near the rows of temporary tents. It was clear that the soldiers were fresh renegades, their skin was not yet tainted by the powers of chaos. And their equipment was rather clean, by renegade standards.
"Move aside, you incoherent brutes!" A raspy, vox-augmented voice angrily rambled from behind the gathering crowd of Renegades. A robed figure managed to shove himself to the front of the crowd. "Out of my way, move!" He finally reached the front of the crowd, looking at what the Space marines offered.
The violent rambler appeared to be a Heretek Magos. He stood proudly in front of the intimidating group of space marines, his hands on his hips. His Mechadendrites slowly floated about, as if slowly observing the situation. A rather well-maintained servo skull hovered about him, it's lifeless husk gently floating about. The Heretek stepped forward, his entirely cybernetic feet making audible clanks as they impacted the floor. He groaned in disappointment. "This is quite... underwhelming, my fellow astartes." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Do you have any living, useful test subjects? You know... The ones that I constantly request of you to bring back after your meaningless slaughterfests!?"
"Hm... Not as pristine as I would have liked. But I didn't exactly expect perfection from... your kind." The Magos, scratched his chin. Or, more accurately, the lower part of his bionic jaw. "Very well, you have my thanks." He turned to the group of renegades, who were in awe of witnessing the great behemoths that were known as the chaos space marines. "You, and you. Carry this man, or what's left of him, to my operations theatre. I'm in dire need of a new Servitor..."
"Yes, sir." The two approached the body, and picked it up. Not before they gave the space marines a rather dignified salute. It seems they kept their traditions from their time with the imperial guard. The two quickly carried the sergeant off.
"As for the bodies... Well, what do you expect us to do with those carcasses?" The magos huffed.
"I am honestly convinced that this is some sort of practical joke." The magos scoffed. "Does anybody want to come forth and taste some of this delicious fine well-done steak?" He gestured. Spreading his arms out.
The renegades slowly stepped back, most of them began resuimg their duties.
"somebody come dispose of this junk, please." The Heretek dusted his robes, becoking a couple of troops to come over and carry the corpses off.
The Heretek was standing above the Sergeant. The poor man was tied down the the operating table, with a couple of servants holding terrifying tools surrounding him. The magos emitted a low, malevolent chuckle.
"Should I administer the anaesthetic, Sergeant?" One of the mechadendrites hovered above the sergeant's chest, the injector needle sticking out of the tip of the mechanical appendage.
"Hmm... How amuzing..." The magos brought his arm closer to the Sergeant, he slowly began stroking the top of the sergeant's head. "How very amusing..." He then wrapped his fingers arond the sergeant's throat and pushed him down against the surgical bed. "I think i'll leave the lobotomy until the end. I want to observe your reactions..."
The Heretek turned and looked over at one of the servants (who you can control). "Make a five inch incision right down the sternum."
The Magos gently waved his hand across the air as if he was composing an orchestra. "Bring me the central Mind Impulse Unit node." He extended his arm towards one of his servants, waiting for the node to be placed on his palm.
"Spread the incision out, Make room for the Node."
"Tell me, sergeant. How many innocent guardsmen have you sentenced to death due to the great, horrible crime of 'heresy'? How many loyal soldiers have you turned to the inquisition in the hopes of gaining a promotion which could pull you out of the field?" The Magos violently thrust the node into the cut, twisting it about for the sole purpose of causing more agony.
"Prepare the extention nodes, and the frontal cable interface breastplate." Dozens of needles quickly sprung out from The tips of the Heretek's fingers, interlacing the wires of the central node with the Man's spinal cord, directly touching his nerves and likely causing immense pain.
"tsk tsk tsk, wake up, you bore..." The magos quickly gave him an injection of aldrenaline. He wanted the sergeant to be aware of every moment.
He grabbed the extention node, and implanted it on top of the central node. The Heretek then grabbed teh Cable Interface Breastplate from a nearby servant and placed it on top of the sergeant's chest, before using the plasma torch to weld it to the man's chest, literally burning it onto him.
"mm... beautiful..." The Magos finished up with the welding. "Bring me the servo Arm." He said to his nearby servant. "This gentleman needs something with more strength than his regular arm. in order to serve me correctly..."
"In the meantime, Enros." The magos was referring to his cheif apprentice. "Prep the left arm for amputation."
The Heretek couldn't help but grin. "Enjoy the pain, sergeant. Enjoy the sensation of feeling, before it is ultimately robbed from you." The Magos waited for the amputation to finish. He brough the Servo arm in, and -using the blade tines that protruded from the tips of his fingers-, he attached the servo arm to the sergeant's stump, attaching the wires to the nerves.
"Enros, initialize the uplink between the servo arm and the MIU Central Node. See if the connection is optimal."
"Hm, Good. Good." The MAgos began making multiple incisions on the belly and thigh of the sergeant, rapidly installing more machinery inside the body, clinging to the bone. "Sergeant, don't tell me you've already went to sleep... Do you want another shot of adrenaline?"
"That would be such a waste... Such a waste, sergeant." The Magos finally finished with the body modifications. The sergeant now had the body of a capable servant, however, his mind needed some work.
"Enros, tie down the head, stabilize it. And prepare the cerebral MIU implant." A mechadendrite neared the sergeant's head, the drill started buzzing as it started up. "It's time for the lobotomisation sergeant. This may as well be your death... Any final words?"
The drill has succesfully dug into the sergeant's eye, it continued down his skull until it reached his brain, removing large amounts of the man's brain. The heretek finally pulled the drill out, and began installing the corresponding machinery inside of the hole that went thorugh his eye, into the inside of his skull. After installing the correct implants for the MIU, the magos finallyi mplanted a shoddy cybernetic eye.
"Enros." He stepped back. "Begin the revival program. Wake my servant up from his slumber..."
appearance: A very intimidating necron, about 7 feet tall with a flowing cape. he bears the metallic, yet skeletal appearance of his bretheren along with a powerful gauss staff and orb of resurrection. His body is covered in sharp, blood crusted blades and gilded gold symbols.
personality: A cold, silent killer. But not mindless, he will track down foes to the ends of the earth. Also a calculating tatcician. He is also dedicated to the deciever, and has "convinced" the chaos to aid him as a so called "lord of blades".
wargear: Guass staff, phylactery, orb of resurrection.
"Finally, somebody who won't whine and groan upon receiving my orders." The Magos cracked his bionic knuckles. "Haucross will be impressed. Speaking of our great leader. Have you seen him recently? I've made a note to check on his bionic legs."
Appearance: Heli is a little on the short side, but muscular. She's also very pretty, with intense green eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. She wears a white tank top and grey shorts under her usual outfit.
Race: human (other (I guess))
Personality: Fiesty, pretty brutal, and some other things I won't mention just yet.
beneath the fortress of blades, was the recently errected dungeons, a maze of cells, torture chambers, and corridors spirraling with blades that hack at any limb that dares pass by without its masters will.*
In one of these cells sits a green female troop, recently caught off the battlefield.*
Heli would hear some heavy, mechanical footsteps coming from the down the hall. Along with a semi-robotic voices. "Tsk tsk tsk, such poor test subjects." Every few steps, the walking would cease, and the voice would speak again. "Too small", "too ugly", "too weak", "too... bleh".
The voice finally reached Heli's cell, and the horrid mechanical abomination who identifies as a Heretek stood before Heli, on the opposite side of the bars.
"Hm? What have we here..." The multiple mechanical appendages slowly slithered in the air, towards Heli. Multiple cameras and other observatory devices were constantly watching her. Beside Heli stood a half-man, half-machine. Who's face was blank and emotionless.
Floating beside the magos was a human skull, outfitted with multiple observatory and recording equipment.
"My servant will be here to deal with you shortly. I have a more important subject that I wish to inspect." The Magos spat, beofore stepping back over to Heli's cell.
A vox hail was sent to Enros in order to come down and deal with the overly talkative Eldar.
"Now, my dear little prisoner..." The writhing mass of wires stepped back over to Heli's cell. Multiple mechadendrites, mechanical tentacles, managed to slide between the bars, slowly hovering towards Heli. Their cameras facing her, and clearly taking multiple pict-captures.
"Oh yes you are... And I'm going to purchase you from your master, the one who captured you." The Magos would be grinning, if he still had the capability to do so. "And I will tie you in chains, and allow a Slaaneshi Daemonette to posses your body. All while you are conscious, of course."
"Im sorry my dear. But it's truly a neccesity. Slaanesh will be satisfied once we sacrifice you to him. Of course, if the procedure was to fail. Then I would have no choice but to turn you into a mindless servitor... Which would also be quite fun."
The observatory mechadendrites quickly took pict-capturs of Heli's face, now that she turned around, exposing herself.
"No!" The Magos screeched. "Those optics were priceless!" The lenses on the multiple optical cameras shattered as they were slammed against the wall. The heretek replied by slamming some of his ballistic mechadendrites against Heli's chest, trying to push her away.
on the higher spots of the fortress, a cowled figure stood before a crystal of blood, surrounded by warriors of the chaos demigod, Melpheron. Behind him was Haucross, leader of the black scourge warband.*
"How goes the progress on your battles, Haucross?, are the so called "battle-brothers of the imperium" well on their way to our slaughtering pits, here on this glorious, blooddrenched planet? " *The necron spoke, its voice had morbid, emotionless robotic drone to it.*
"We've made good progress." Haucross's voice was deep, and low. His armor shone bright, reflecting light despite the fact that it was painted black. He clutched his legendary Hellblade with his right hand, allowing the rage that was infused into the weapon to empower his words. His cybernetic legs allowed him to stand taller than most men, and his augmented physique easily made him an equal match to the adeptus astartes. "The last bastions of the imperial guard have all but fallen. My newly aquired Shadowsword has become the bane of their fortresses. My men have personally seen to the destruction of not one, but two Warhound-class scout titans." Haucross gazed down at his red weapon, he noted the lethal spikes that jutted out from it's edges. "But we've left some of their last fortresses standing, including the Inquisitorial fortress. We don't want those fools to resort to Exterminatus now, do we?"
The heretek quickly pulled his mechadendrites away from the cell, observing the broken optical mechadendrite. "Do you know how much it's going to cost me to get his repaired!?" He snarled. "You brainwashed fool. All you know is what the Imperium has fed you... you know nothing of the galaxy and it's true secrets! You are doomed to a life of ignorance!"
"Tear me apart? I'll have you know, slave, that I could easily kill you at this very moment." He snarled. "But, after all. If you break it, you buy it. And im not sure if i want to purchase you or not..."
Haucross' eyes instantly spread open. His muscles tensed and he clenched his fists so hard his gauntlet would have cracked had he applied more force. He grit his teeth, and panted through his teeth. His blackened vains began showing more prominently, revealing themselves at times of true anger.
"Space Marines!?" He almost screamed in anger. His voice echoing across the room.
Haucros took some time to calm himself. "I don't employ chaos space marines. I'm.... I have no need for them. They are filled with pride and fanatic zeal. I want trained men under my control, not brainwashed monks."
"I can provide that, perhaps you've heard of those renegades that have been slumming outside the fortress? I've seen them in action, they're well trained, perhaps not as well equipped as your walking hunks of metal, but most certainly experienced."
"My men are loyal, reliable, smart, quick, and better in just about every sense." Haucross began pacing to and fro. "Space marines feel this... pride, this extreme pride. Wether it be to the corpse emperor, or to the chaos gods. Their gene-seed makes them feel as if theyre so much better than everybody else. I've bested many in battle, using their pride againt them. I don't trust Space Marines. Not one bit. And my hatred for them burns brighter than any star in the galaxy."
"You are a slave. And you shall stay a slave. Slaves don't wear armor, slaves don't wield weapons." The Magos snarled. "You're lucky I didnt' strip you molecule frome molecule after that show of stupidity right htere." HE waved around a certain mechadendrite that was tipped with a sort of green tube, it seemed like some sort of blaster, but it was filled with green energy.
Haucross shook his head, noticing that he was rambling about space marines again. "Huh? Hm. Well, alright. At least I get to slaughter them once again... All one needs to do is to memorise their holy text, the blasted Codex Astartes. They lay their plans out for all to see... such fools." Haucross shook his head slowly. "My warband isn't the greatest. After all, 4,000 troops are nothing compared to most imperial regiments. But we are more than capable of dealing with but a single chapter of Adeptus Astartes. They shall taste our wrath, mark my words."
"I will be glad to oblige..." Haucross yanked his blade from its anchor point, and started moving out of the room. He stopped, however, and turned around as he remembered something. "One more thing..."
"My scouts have brought in some fresh reports. It seems that the guard... The guard have a Pariah in their service."
Haucross snarled in response to being called a human. "No, nothing of that sort. Compensation shall come in the form of technology, your technology. Our Heretek was begging me for it for months on end."
"I will be keeping an eye on you, slave..." The Magos patted his forearm once, and the servo-skull stopped jotting down notes with it's autoquill. "We shall meet again." He turned around and continued down the hallway, his servitor following slowly behind him.
appearance: Throgar Xephos is a Lord Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus. Therefore, he must dress himself accordingly and carry himself with pride and confidence. Throgar dons a suit of inquisitorial Power Armor, which is usually only reserved for the Emperor's angels of death. However, due to Throgar's high ranking, and his wealth and power, he has mannaged to aquire a suit for himself. This protection has been hand-crafted for Throgar, and tailored to perfectly fit his figure. This armor provides him with exceptional protection against any who would dare to raise their arms against a member of the Emperor's holy inquisition. The suit is colored in dark black, with silver highlights. Throgar's inquisitorial Rosette is proudly displayed on his power armor's chest piece for all to behold. His armor is studded with protective seals, in order to ward off any Daemonic presence. Throgar's black hair is slowly starting to grey, due to his old age. However, he still looks rather young, despite his rather surprising old age. He maintains a neat goatee, and he generally makes sure that he presents himself in the best way possible. Over his armor, he wears dark inquisitorial robes, made of the finest silks. A long scar runs down his right cheek.
race: Human (Ophelia VII)
personality: Throgar is a pious, faithful servant of the Emperor. He will carry out his duty unflinchingly, despite how much pain it may cause him, physically or mentally. He bears the weight of the Imperium's safety on his shoulders, and he flaunts it proudly. Throgar is, in some ways, the perfect role model for any Inquisitor. Tough, smart, and loyal to his Imperium. He will never rest until every heretic has been burnt in the name of the Emperor. However, he does seem to care about his two adopted daughters, Augusta and Janette. This is quite uncommon for such zealous servants of the Emperor, but Throgar manages to hide it beneath a thick layer of strict, and harsh criticism. Though, this can be seen as a form of tough love for his two daughters.
Psykic Abilites: Throgar is has some degree of skil when it comes to Psykic Abilities. He is not a master, however, and the most he can do with his abilities is to protect himself against daemonic influence, and supplement his reflexes during battle. He sometimes uses his psykic energy to communicate with others when it is needed. Throgar is capable of tearing into somebody's mind to extract information, though he is only capable of doing this with those who are weak-willed. This mind-tearing usually results in eliminating the subject's cognitive functions, reverting them into a vegitative state.
Wargear: as mentioned before, Throgar dons a suit of protective power armor, that can deflect blows that would easily kill a man. During battle, he uses a storm bolter. This storm bolter, unlike the usual versions, has it's barrels set in an over-under fashion, rather than side by side. This is to grant the Inquisitor greater control an accuracy during battle. He has also attached a flamer to his left arm, in order to burn down all who dare to oppose the will of the God-Emperor of mankind. This assortment of weapons allows Throgar to dispense the Emperor's righteous fury upon any and all heretics. Throgar's left eye has been replaced with a bionic version of itself. This eye is of exemplary crafstmanship, and it heightens his senses and allows him to use multiple different view modes, including infrared and night vision. The most important part of Throgar's bionic eye is that it has a digi-melta attached to it. This gives him one shot that is equal in power to a melta pistol. This weapon allows the Inquisitor to blast his foe into a crumpled mass of charred muscle and bone, or a heap of burning slag. A weapon that is hidden like so is a very valuable tool at the hands of an inquisitor, who may find himself in danger of betrayal. Throgar owns his own personal Voidship, The Exemplar.
Further Backgrond Information: The Exemplar is Lord Inquisitor Throgar's personal Voidship. It is a retrofitted Battle Barge that was retrieved from the fleet of the Black Hounds Space Marines chapter after being declared Excommunicate Traitoris by Inquisitor Throgar himself. After gaining the agrrement of other Lord Inquisitors, the Black Hounds were declared Excommunicate Traitoris. The Black Hounds' homeworld, Goxale, was subject to Exterminatus during a traditional night of celebration. this attack destroyed their fortress-monastery, and nearly wiped out the entire chapter. The only survivors was the skeleton crews which operated the chapter's battle-barge. These survivors were dealt with when an entire regiment of Inquisitorial Stormtroopers boarded the ship. The Astartes fought valiantly for two days and nights, before being wiped out to the last man. The Black Hands were no more, their fleet and armory were used to arm a new Chapter of space marines, and every available record of the Black Hounds was expunged. The Black Hounds' Flagship, the Fortress of Valiance, was 'requisitioned' by Inquisitor Throgar upon his promotion to the rank of Lord Inquisitor. The Regiment of stoormtroopers were also assigned to Throgar along with his new Voidship. This Regiment was nicknamed "Throgar's Blade" due to the violent actions that the regiment has partaken in in the name of their Lord Inquisitor. The Fortress of Valiance was sent to a nearby forge world, where it was modified to suit the Inquisitor's needs. The ship was named The Exemplar, and It's black paint job had already satisfied the Inquisitor's taste. The Exemplar now houses Inquisitor Throgar, his two Daughters, and his Regiment of Stormtroopers. This mighty vessel provides comfortable room for it's residents. As the troops are constantly training, while the Inquisitor picks out his new objectives on his Command Bridge.
occupation (or rank): Lord Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus
appearance: Augusta is Lord Inquisitor Throger's Interrogator, his apprentice. She dons a suit of sturdy, light carapace armor. She wears Inquisitorial Robes over her armor in order to maintain a good appearance. Augusta carefully maintains her blonde hair, as she believes that any agent of the inquisition must always be on their best appearance. She also sports a Psykic hood, and a couple of protective seals on her shoulders.
race: Human (Ichar IV)
personality: Augusta sees that gaining her foster Father's approval is the highes priority on her list. She constantly strives to impress him and to exceed his expectatiions. She loves her sister Janette dearly, despite her sister's unusual mannerism. Augusta is always respectful of those around her, especially those who earn it. But this is not to be mistaken with a sense of mercy. Augusta will gladly exterminate those who would betray the Imperium, and she looks forward to being promoted to a fully fledged inquisitor someday.
Psykic Abilities: Augusta is capable of manipulating the warp in order to assist her in her duties. Augusta uses many warp-based attacks during combat, she can levitate objects, and blast enemies with gouts of flame. Augusta is a skilled mind-reader, and only the hardiest of strong-willed individuals can hope to resist her mental prying. Unlike her Father, she is capable of surgically exploring a person's mind without causing permanent damage, and she is capable of mentally communicating with somebody systems away. Her mental abilitis are so acute, that she is capable of functioning as The Exemplar's chief Astropath, and sometimes even as a Navigator, guiding the mighty vessel as it travels across the Warp.
wargear: Being a Psyker, Augusta is armed with the necessary tools to harness her abilites. She wears a psykic hood to help channel the powers of the warp. Even though she is capable of using destructive psykic powers, she mostly reverts to using her trusty bolt pistol. Augusta is a cautious individual, and she knows that abusing her power will lead to nothing but catastrophe to her and everybody around her. Her skill with a bolter is not to be underestimated, however, as she has trained in the use of this weapon, and it has become a sort of extention of her body.
occupation: Interrogator, Apprentice of Lord Inquisitor Throgar
appearance: Janette's body is wrapped in bands of black bandages, aiming to symbolise the pain she has suffered in order to serve the God-Emperor of Mankind. Jannete lacks any Psykc abilities whatsoever, and so, she has relied on more traditional forms of protection. She wears a suit of Light Power Armor, a thiner, and more versatile version of the power armor worn by the adeptus sororitas. This armor is nothing in comparison to true Astartes Power Armor, It even pales in comparison to power armor used by regular humans. However, it is more than enough to protect Jannete. She wears inquisitorial insignia on her armor in order to show that she is an agent of the inquisition. Jannete's blonde hair has been cut to neck length, and she has dyed it red.
race: Human (Ichar IV)
personality: nobody embodies the rage of the Emperor's fury more than Jannete Xephos. Her sole purpose in life is to hunt down and exteminate all who would commite the horrible act of Heresy. She wants nothing more than to personally strangle the life out of every traitor that turned their backs on the Emperor's light. Janette harbours a resentment to all things that don't submit to the God-Emperor's will. And she will gladly prove that in the field of battle, where she tears into the God-Emperor's foes with reckless abandon.
wargear: Jannete has trained endleslly in multiple different forms of martial arts, in order to compensate for her lack of connection to the warp. She uses a long, two handed chainsword known as an Eviscerator. This weapon is exceptionally heavy, but thanks to Janette's constant physical conditioning, she is capable of using it nimbly on the field of battle as if it were but a regular longsword. When Jannete is not cleaving into the flesh and sinew of her god-emperor's foes, she is incinerating them with her flamer. This flamer was lovingly nicknamed "Wrathful Vengeance" by it's user. It has been emblazened with countless religious iconography, and Jannete will often resort to using this agonizing tool of warfare to flush out any cowards who attempt to hide behind cover. However, the most important piece of weaponry in Janette's loadout is her faith. Jeanette carries with her a Tome of Truth, a copy of the holy text which speaks of the Emperor's greatness, and all-encompassing power. She has instilled utter terror in the hearts of many a heretic by opening her tome and loudly roaring passages, which instilles fear in the hearts of those who don't believe in the God-Emperor. Jeanette is completely reckless in combat, tearing her foes to pieces and incinerating the rest. She constantly reminds herself that she can gladly lay down her life in the service of her God-Emperor.
occupation: Interrogator, Apprenice of Lord Inquisitor Throgar
Astera slowly nodded. She quickly got in a crouched position. Astera loaded a Full Metal Jacket round into her rifle, before cocking the gun. She looked down the sight at the bunched up heretics. One round would likely pierce three targets, and so she decided to test her luck. She released a low sigh, calming herself down, and lining up her shot accordingly, before pulling the trigger.
A muffled bang could be heard emitting from the suppressed barrel, as the bullet flew down the chamber and headed straight towards the clump of heretics. The round pierced the throat of one of the targets, punctured the chest of another, going straight through the heart, before lodging itself in the lung of a third target, all lined up behind one another.
tar'mmon laughs.* "good, good! Open fire, while they're still mortified!" *A wall of lazfire came down on the heretics, tearing apart the front row.* "keep at it, Astera!"
The cell door fell open, someone else clambered out nearby, down the walkway to Helis left, a cadian recruit.*
"by the emperor, run... RUN!"
He was smacked aside as a massive hunk of metal, a chaos space marine, pounded its way down the walkway, time to run.*
The wall crashed down, crushing one of Tar'mmon's men, the heretics were led by a chaos space marine, it seems one she saw earlier... Same bloody armor, it stomped towards tar'mmon. "grind... GRIND ALL OF YOUR BONES!"
Astera froze, facing the gigantic hunk of steel. Her body stopped moving entirely, and time seemed to freeze for a moment. She hid before, and she gave those gigantic abominations the chance to massacre her friends. Astera did not want to repeat the same mistake twice. She quickly stood up, and shut her eyes.
Astera let out another cold, low sigh. She pulled the bolt back, discarding the spent shell. Her hand instinctively went to a small pouch on the back of her belt, slighlty above her thigh. She opened it and slowly slid a round out of the pouch. The round was labeled 'turbo penetrator'. Astera chomped down volently on her lower lip, cutting it. Her special, mutated Pariah blood began seeping from the cut. She brought the cartridge up to her lips, and delicately kissed the tip of the bullet, covering it with her blood. Asera then loaded it into her rifle, causing an audible click.
Astera filtered out all of the background sound, focusing solely on the strict steps that she must follow. The pariah pulled the bolt back on the rifle, and pointed it upwards at the Space marine. She noted the mark of power armor that he was wearing, Mark 7, aquila. A formidable piece of protection, but it had one glaring mistake...
She lined up her shot, aiming at the slight curve that had been cut into the top part of the armor's chest plate. If her calculations were correct, this shot would prove to be fatal. In theory, the round would bounce from the curve, and be sent into the soft armor beneath the helmet, straight up the heretical marine's jaw and into his skull, the round would bury itself deep within the marine's mind, and the bullet would twist furiously, as was the custom with turbo-penetrator rounds. This rapid spinning would turn the marine's brain into mush, instantly ending his life.
Astera took aim, having complete faith in her skill, and the reliable nature of her rifle. A quiet whisper escaped her bloodied lips.
Astera slowly lowered her rifle, gazing at the dead corpse of her slain prey. She immediately fell to her knees, exhausted by the sheer force she had to use to execute that bold manouver. She squeezed her rifle to her chest, and slowly pulled back the bolt. Astera collected the spent shell, and placed it within her camo pants' right pocket.
Tar'mmon looked over at the heretics, they were all but alive now, annihlated by the sheer focussed fire... While Astera only got three of them, she did more than tar'mmon ever expected, by saving their lives.* "Thank you, Astera. I mean it."
Aster looked up at Tar'mmon, before slowly getting back on her feet. She used her flak cloak to gently wipe the blood away form her lips, before nodding solemnly in respect. Despite the short amount of time she had spent with the Vostroyan stormtrooper, she has grown to respect him as a truly caring human being.
Astera slowly nodded. She used her hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight as she gazed at the fortress ahead. She was troubled by the mention of the dark eldar, they had a rather terrifying reputation.
Astera slung her rifle over her shoulder and tied it to her back. She wanted to rest her arms, for now. She knew that her marksmanship would be needed soon, and she decided to rest her arms so that they could be more effective later. She removed a small water canteen from her belt, and took a few sips of water, hydrating her dry mouth. Astera was used to the harsh living conditions of her homeworld. This atmosphere failed to hinder her capabilities, as she was already accustomed to harsh climates.
Astera nodded again. She went over to a nearby wrecked Chimera, leaning on it. She sat down, her back resting on the wrecked chassis. She held her rifle close, and looked over at Tar'mmon. It appeared as though she might have smiled for a moment there, before she drifted to sleep.
The collossal behemoth of a ship loomed overhead, nearly causing an eclipse to fall over the Hive's port. A rather emblazened transport ship slowly lowered itself down to the harbor. The landing craft slowly descended onto the port, and it's wings foled up as it touched down. The cargo bay doors slowly peeled upen. Large amounts of steam were sprayed forth as the landing craft's inner oxygen supply. This steam obsucred the landing zone for a moment.
Multiple guardsmen quickly made thier way out the craft. They weren't norma guardsmen, for they were armed with Hellguns and wore dark carapace armor with the awfully familiar Inquisitorial rosette stamped on their chests. They looked as if they were some kind stormtrooper force, and each man paired up with another. They made two parallel rows, facing each other. Each stormtrooper held their rifle to thier side and saluted, in respect to the incoming figure.
Finally, Throgar himself appeared through the steamy mist. He stepped down from the landing platform, his mechanical servos humming lightly and elegantly as his adamantine-clad feet stomped on the ceramic floor. He walked down the row which was formed by his stormtrooper bodyguards. Though, one would wonder why a man of his stature would even need somebody to protect him.
A rotund man came walking up to him, his suit covered in medals and decorations, he came through the crowd with a couple of guards of his own.* "Oh, Throgar! What a lovely occasion! You're here to solve our little problems, yes?"
"Governor Altmund. On behalf of the inquisition, I press the following charges." Throgar extended his left arm to the nearest guard, who provided him with a scroll. The Inquisitor slowly uncureld the scroll, revealing the multiple inquisitorial seals that were present on the text. "Failure to protect your homeworld from a chaotic invasion. Failure to alert the nearest star systems in time to prevent said invasion. Failure to contain the heretical threat to this rather vital part of the Calixis Sector's trade route. Failure to ration supplies to nearby cities. Failure to allocate military resources correctly. Failure to directly report to the holy Inquisition." The list went on and on and on. But Throgar didn't have time to deal with such trivialties, he tossed the decree to the governor's feet.
"Failure, Failure, Failure. Such a disappointment. You have allowed the malignant threat of chaos to seep into this integral component of the Imperium's trade route. You have failed as a Governor, you have failed as a Leader. You have failed as a warrior." Throgar looked straight into the Governeor's eyes with a ghastly stare.
"You have failed your people, you have failed your men. You have failed the leaders who came before you. You have failed the Imperium. And, an act more dishonorable than anything prevously listed. You have failed the God-Emperor of mankind."
The magna-holster on Throgar's side immediately activated, propelling his storm bolter straight to Throgar's palm. He used his thumb to switch the firing mode from fully automatic, to semi automatic. He quickly raised the barrel of the gun, and pointed it dead straight at the Governor's temple, before pulling the trigger.
Inquisitor Throgar let go of his ornate storm-bolter. It was quickly pulled back by the magna-holster, and had reattached itself to the Inquisitor's thigh. He looked around at the shocked crowd. Good, I have their attention he though to himself.
The Lord Inquisitor cleared his throat. "Hear me! From this point onwards. All military, civilian, economic, and industrial assets will be commandeered by the Emperor's holy Inquisition. I shall personally take command of the Imperial Guard regiments, and other assets that may be located on this planet, in order to fulfill my duty as a protector of mankind. Obey my commands, and we shall save this planet from utter annihalation. Rebel against the Inquisition's decree, and you shall provide me with enough reason to issue an Exterminatus upon this fine planet..."
There was a moment of silence, as the Inquisitor looked over his new subjects. "Very well." He muttered. "Now," He raised his voice once again. "Which of you loyal servants would be so kind as to lead me to this Hive's PDF Regiment Commander?"
"Very good." The Lord Inquisitor followed the guardsman. The storm troopers quickly joined the other men, coming in from other dropships. They hurried to their assigned positions. Two storm troopers followed the inquisitor, staying at his sides.
Through rounding corridors and streets, the guard led them to the PDF regiment base, suddenly there was a clamor up ahead, it looked like several people were fighting with whatever they could get their hands on.*
They silenty opened fire on the groups, a fighter on one of the sides, a policial enforcer, ran out of fire, but the rest of his squad, along with quite a bit of the gang they were fighting was torn apart by lazfire.*
Throgar cared little for but one simple survivor. Perhaps he could spread the news of this righteous judgement to his little friends, then they could stop hammering against the Arbites for once. He concluded.
Throgar nodded and shoved the door inside, likely snapping some of the hinges due to the augmented strength provided by his power armor. He stepped into the room, looking at the inhabitant. He let the Inquisitorial Rosetta speak to itself.
"Stand up, commander. It seems you've forgotten your manners." He dusted his robes which were worn over his power armor. "You will address me as Lord Inquisitor Throgar, lest you recieve the same unfortunate punihsment as your pitiful planetary governor."
"Now, commander. You will report to me, and me only. You never know how many of those traitorous bastards could be listening in at any moment." The Inquisitor walked towards the table that was located on the center of the room. His bodyguards quickly took position beside the door, weapons at the ready.
"Now then, commander." He straightened his robes. "Your report."
"The chaos have set up a massive "Fortress of blades", as they call it, centered in a valley above one of our outposts, they appear to be of the word bearers legion with two twists - they have a band of renegates aiding them, as well as some new form of daemons, we believe they are new kinds of khornite daemons, but they arent as bloodthirsty as we expected."
"Hm, you're lucky I recieved ordo malleus training. Daemonology is one of my fortes." The inquisitor slowly twisted his head to the left, causing a loud cracking sound to be heard as he stretched his neck. "Go on."
"Orks? Eldar? What kind of mess is this?" Throgar slowly shook his head. "What I'm wondering about right now is.. well, how the hell did you give the enemy so much free time, that they were capable of constructing an entire fortress!?"
"A planet this far out doesnt mean we dont have the best equipment, we believe they call it the "mega", it has about 41000 on board, of that its 27880 heretics, 9002 chaos space marines, and around 4100 daemons of unspecified types... Currently..."
"The daemons are not a problem. I have an expert who can deal with these abominations." Throgar noted, stroking his goatee gently. "Any planetary defense lasers? We need to keep these heretics at bay. Do not give them a chance to deploy more troops."
"Good, set them up, all of them. One group in the left hemisphere, and the other in the right." He looked down at the table. "They'll take twelve hour shifts. Half of them fire during the day, the other half will fire during the night." He placed his hands on the table. "The least you can do is have a tactical view of the battlefield available. Please do so now. I want a map, at least."
He heads over to the tatical desk and activates it, it creates a holographic map of the planet... Judging by the time lapse of the past two days, the growing spot is certainly this "fortress of blades".*