In the Imperium of Man, the Adeptus Astra Telepathica oversees the recruitment and training of psykers for use throughout the Imperium. The Adeptus deliberately ensures these sanctioned psykers are unquestioningly loyal and meticulously trained, as well as both hidebound by nature and inﬂexible in their approach to the powers they wield. This is no error on the part of the Imperium, instead it is a deliberate defence cultivated by the psykers’ tutors. The souls of humans burn in the warp and those of psykers more brightly than most. The entities of that alien realm are drawn to those souls like moths to ﬂames, eager to devour and consume them. However, a dullard’s mind is far less appetising to a Daemon and likely to be passed over in favour for sweeter meats.
There are those psykers who have not been trained by the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. These may be quick-witted and self-taught wyrds whose instincts and intuition have been honed by a lifestyle spent as a fugitive from the Black Ships and Inquisition. Alternatively, they may be feral mystics and shamans on backwater planets with no inkling of the source of their power, individuals whose powers have only just awakened, or those who have simply slipped through the cracks of the Imperium’s monstrous bureaucracy. There are even those psykers who are entirely black-hearted and dangerous individuals, and even those who willingly embrace the seductive power of the Dark Gods of the Warp. Collectively, the Imperium knows these individuals as rogue psykers.
Many Imperial citizens have heard of the dread Black Ships - from the stories told to children warning them to be good, to the rumours of shadowy figures spiriting friends and relatives away. While many of these stories may be dismissed by the average citizen, the fact remains that the Black Ships are still a part of Imperial mythos.
What those same citizens haven’t heard of are the Black Asylums. These secret, isolated fortresses are prisons for some of the most powerful rogue psykers in the galaxy. Only the highest ranks of the Holy Ordos are aware of them, their existences recorded nowhere but in the minds of those inducted into their terrible secrets.
Too dangerous to keep within the normal penal systems, yet too valuable to destroy, many high-level rogue psykers find themselves brought to one of the Black Asylums. There, they are subjected to experiments and torture, that they might be the key to finally turning back the Ruinous Powers. Every measure is taken to ensure their destructive forces are never allowed loose on the galaxy but, of course, accidents happen...
This is the recruitment thread for a one-shot campaign I am running. Character creation rules are as follows:
I'll be picking five (probably), and I'll leave recruitment open for about five days.
Join irc.synirc.net channel #acolyte or post any questions here.
MaliciousOnion fucked around with this message at Feb 5, 2013 around 22:37
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 08:58|
|# ? May 21, 2013 21:54|
This sounds pretty awesome, character incoming.
Edit: I just noticed, if we're using the point allocation method, will you be rolling starting wounds and infamy for our characters?
Treek fucked around with this message at Feb 5, 2013 around 10:41
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 10:36|
As prisoners I assume we start with nothing?
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 14:02|
Edit: I just noticed, if we're using the point allocation method, will you be rolling starting wounds and infamy for our characters?
Roll your own wounds, infamy and any other rolls.
As prisoners I assume we start with nothing?
Technically, yes. I still want you to pick and list your gear, as it will become available in various ways early on in the game.
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 14:08|
Finally a reason to crack open my BC book. I'll try to work something up.
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 15:49|
Wyrdling, Tzeentchian Wizard
Wyrdling Psyker Taken by the Black Ships before he could even be given a name, the only world “Wyrdling” has ever known is the Black Asylum. Though Wyrdling has received no education or training he has become a potent psyker according to the whims of the Architect of Fate. His unwitting devotion to the Great Conspirator has left mind and body altered, but his power is unquestioned. Wyrdling has waited patiently in his cell, listening for the day his master calls him home. WS 30 BS 40 S 30 T 40 Ag 30 Int 25 Per 55 WP 70 Fel 35 Inf 26 Corruption 13 Wounds 7 Background Pride: Devotion Disgrace: Regret Motivation: Ascendancy Alignment TZEENTCH Khorne 0 Nurgle 1 Slaanesh 0 Tzeentch 6 Skills Common Lore (The Screaming Vortex) Common Lore (War) Trade (Soothsayer) Linguistics (Low Gothic) Awareness Psyniscience +20 Forbidden Lore (Psykers) +10 Deceive Dodge Talents Psy Rating 4 Jaded Weapon Training (Primary) Weapon Training (Las) Child of the Warp Warp Sense Traits The Quick and the Dead Psyker (Unbound) Haunted Powers Personal Augury Precognition Preternatural Awareness Thought Sending Gifts Winged: Flyer 6 Gear Common Craftsmanship Laspistol Common Craftsmanship Neural Whip Flak Coat Psy-Focus Dataslate with Arcane Lore Advancements WP, Simple  WP, Intermediate  Per, Simple  Per, Intermediate  Psy Rating  Psyniscience, Trained  Psyniscience, Experienced  Forbidden Lore (Psykers), Trained  Warp Sense  Resistance (Psychic Powers) 
Forsooth fucked around with this message at Feb 5, 2013 around 22:47
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 16:05|
Serena is known as the girl with faraway eyes. She always has a kind of glaze over her eyes, looking at or for things that aren't there, or things that nobody else can recognize. The things she saw, though, were things that had yet to happen. As a child, she was able to know things, see them as they were to happen. It made her an oddity, an outcast, but her family was rather well-to-do in the city, so whispers were kept to just that. Whispers, like the ones in her head, that told her things. She knew where to find the Dawsonian heir when she ran off. She'd heard the soft voice of the poor girl had failed her examinations at the academy and tried to do away with herself. The medicae staff found her nearly dead with a hypox still in her hand. Serena was thanked as a hero, but still the question remained of how she knew.
When she was a young woman, the voices began to whisper to her, rather than just at her. They told her to use their help to advance her family and herself. The politics of the planet were cutthroat sometimes. Everyone needed an edge, whether it be steel in the dark or a well-placed word in the ear of an ally or rival. With her father ever doting on her and giving her all the attention she could ever want, Serena was able to get him to make odd, seemingly whimsical purchases of real estate and materiel over the course of the upcoming years. The family was nearly ruined several seasons in, but she was able to convince them to stay the course. The famine that hit just when the planet could least afford it was what put them up over the top. The purchasing of several transport companies and distribution centers allowed them to become the premium source of imported food from offworld.
It was her mother who turned her in. Nobody could have foreseen anything like this, so of course it had to be unnatural, right? It was a very brief trial. Serena and her father were stripped of their titles for "engineering" the entire disaster and profiting off the misery of the people. There was no real defense beyond her protests, but the authorities were having none of it. It was a short stint in a prison cell before the Black Ships came. Someone put a word in with the Ecclesiarchy, three guesses who, and they got word to the Inquisition about suspected witchery in the Atalanta family. They carted her off and locked her away, but the whispers never stopped. They just advised patience. Soon, they said, she would be free again.
Name: Serena Atalanta Career: Psyker Pride: Devotion Disgrace: Deceit Motivation: Perfection Characteristics: WS: 22 (25 + 0) -3 Motivation BS: 45 (25 + 20) S: 30 (25 + 10) -5 Devotion T: 35 (25 + 10) Ag: 40 (25 + 10) +5 Advance Int: 35 (25 + 10) Per: 51 (25 + 20) -4 Disgrace +10 Advance WP: 70 (25 + 20) +5 Class +5 Devotion +5 Motivation +10 Advance Fel: 22 (25 + 0) -3 Motivation Wounds 12/12 IP: 27 CP: 6 Skills: Awareness Common Lore (Adeptus Astra Telepathica) Common Lore (Imperial Creed) Forbidden Lore (Psykers) Intimidate Linguistics (Low Gothic) Parry Psyniscience Trade (Linguist) Talents: Jaded Psy Rating 3 Quick and the Dead (+2 to Initiative) Warp Sense Weapon Training (Primary) Weapon Training (SP) Powers - Doombolt - Mind over Matter - Mind Probe - Precognition - Precognitive Dodge - Telekinetic Shield - Thought Sending Gear: Common Stub Pistol Good Sword Flak Cloak Psy-Focus Dataslate of arcane lore 3,000/3,000 XP spent Willpower +5 - 250 Willpower +5 - 500 Psyniscience +10 - 350 Forbidden Lore (Psykers) +10 - 200 Perception +5 - 250 Thought Sending - 100 Mind Probe - 200 Precognition - 100 Precognitive Dodge - 200 Infused Knowledge - 600 Agility +5 Alignment Khorne - 0 Slaanesh - 0 Nurgle - 0 Tzeentch - 4
Vicissitude fucked around with this message at Feb 5, 2013 around 18:08
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 17:27|
Artists impression. Actual character may contain more legs.
Zorah was a loyal servant of the Emperor. In fact, she was even a relatively high-ranking one: an inquisitorial interrogator. She excelled at her job. Every heretic, every traitor, every xenos, they all started talking eventually after brought before her. Over time, she got so good at it, she didn't even have to actually interrogate them, she could just... stand there and pluck the secrets from their minds. That was when she realised something was wrong. But only when one day she was interrogating a rogue psyker did she recognize her abilities for what they were. Having more loyalty than sense, she told the inquisitor.
In exchange for her loyal services, the inquisitor allowed Zorah to be taken to a psyker holding facility to be tested, and if possible, sanctioned so that she could return to the emperor's service, rather simply being executed on the spot. First night at the holding facility, she had a dream. She saw Terra. She saw a large chamber. Groups of people strapped to chairs. Herself among them, dying in agony. She saw the warp and felt her soul being cast into it in pieces. She woke up screaming. The next night, she also had a dream. This time, it was of her cell, but she was not alone. A large bird-like creature was there with her. Between the constant cawing it called her pretty and offered her a deal. Now she saw that there wasn't anything wrong with her after all. What she had previously thought a flaw and a weakness of character, she now saw as an unrivalled opportunity.
However, the deal had, of course, come at a price. Not only did she now owe her allegiance to the Prince of Plots, her body had been transformed. She didn't mind the transformation itself, as she thought she could see the purpose behind it: it made her faster and improved her balance. Both traits which could prove useful in escaping. Surely that was why the god has chosen to change her like this. It did, however, have the rather significant drawback of being very recognizably the work of chaos, and thus something that meant she could not very well disguise herself as a loyal, pious servant of the emperor. The only option was to get out of here. She would run, she would hide, and she would make her way somewhere more... open to new horizons.
Archtype:Psyker Pride:Devotion Disgrace:Greed Motivation:Perfection xp (unspent):3000 (100) BS:45 WS:22 S:22 T:30 Ag:30 Int:40 Per:40 Wp:70 Fel:40 Inf:24 Wounds:13 Infamy point:2 Corruption:12 Skills: Awareness Psyniscience Forbidden Lore (Psykers, Warp) Interrogation Deceive Dodge Talents: Psy Rating 3 Jaded Weapon Training (Primary, Las) Child of the Warp Favoured by the Warp Resistance (Psychic Powers) Warp Sense Strong Minded Traits: Psyker Overwhelming Need (-10 to Commerce tests) Quadruped Sturdy Gifts of the gods: Centauroid Powers: Thought Sending Mind Over Matter Delude Compel Gear: Laspistol Good Craftmanship Sword Flak Cloak Psy-focus Dataslate with arcane lore Good Craftmanship Long-las with red-dot laser sight Nerve Induction Tines Advances: Simple Wp -250 Known Interrogation -200 Favoured by the warp -750 Resistance (Psychic Powers) -250 Known Forbidden Lore (Warp) -200 Warp Sense -250 Strong Minded -500 Intermediate WP -500 Alingment: Tzeentch Khorne:0 Nurgle:1 Slaanesh:0 Tzeentch:6
Waci fucked around with this message at Feb 7, 2013 around 06:04
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 18:19|
I've never played Black Crusade but I may play Black Crusade for this.
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 18:54|
I am on this like boils on a Nurgle guy.
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 22:07|
BREAKING NEWS: To help non-Psyker archetypes become viable psykers, they now get Psy Rating 1 for free, as well as 200xp to spend on Psychic Powers. Note that prerequisites still apply.
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 22:36|
Once known by a different name and face, Villikas spent the first decade of his adult life as an Excubitor of the Adeptus Arbites, relishing the authority and excitement the position entailed.
Never popular with the majority of his colleagues, he became a complete pariah after exposing a group of corrupt officers helping to smuggle various illicit substances into the lower hive. Despite his protestations that he had done the right thing, he nearly suffered several "accidents" in the line of duty, and finally decided enough was enough, joining the imperial guard, when they arrived, to demand their planetary tithe.
Despite his initial brooding anger at the circumstances that forced him into this new career, he soon grew to love his new life.
His martial skills developed to a point he hadn't thought possible in his earlier life, something he exulted in. Eventually, he moved through the ranks to become a drop/shock trooper, tasked with surprise raids and spear-heading assaults that required speed and mobility over sheer numbers and brute power.
Shortly after his promotion to sergeant, Villikas and his squad were tasked with a special mission: the insertion and extraction of a sanctioned psyker into the heart of an ork horde. The mission went without a hitch, with minimal casualties and every objective accomplished. It wasn't until shortly after the mission, when he was dragged from his bunk and into an interrogation cell, that he discovered he was a psyker. The sanctioned psyker he had kept alive had accused him of using warp sorcery to maneuver his squad in the air during the operation. He strenuously denied the charges, but to his dismay many of his comrades in arms came forward and testified that they had often experienced unexpected course changes when flying with Villikas. Found guilty in short order, he was "lucky" enough to be spared summary execution, as one of the black ships was currently in-system, and was more than happy to ship him to his hellish new home, the Black Asylum.
Name: Villikas Archetype: Renegade Pride: Grace Disgrace: Betrayal Motivation: Vengence Characteristics Ws 48 Bs 33 S 35 T 40 Ag 50 Per 30 Int 30 Wp 45 Fel 25 Infamy: 26 Corruption: 15 Wounds 14/14 Armour: 5 (except head) Tb: 4 Gifts of the gods Vampiric Addiction (Vitreous Humor) Skills Common Lore (Imperial Guard, Adeptus Arbites, War) Linguistics (Low Gothic) Trade (technomat) Athletics Awareness Dodge +10 Parry Scholastic Lore (Tactica Imperialis) Operate (Aeronautica) Intimidate Survival Tech-use Talents & Traits The Quick and the Dead Adroit (Ws) Jaded Quick Draw Rapid Reload Weapon Training (Chain, Las, Primary, SP, Bolt) Heavy Weapon Training (Heavy Flamer) Catfall Sure Strike Disarm Ambidextrous Psyker Psy Rating (2) Two weapon Wielder (Melee) Flesh Render Raptor Blade Dancer Powers Mind Over Matter Telekinetic Shield Gear Good Boltgun Common Bolt Pistol Best Chainsword (x2) Carapace Armour Good Jump Pack Medikit Dataslate containing annotated Tactica Imperialis Advancements Psy rating +1 750 Mind Over Matter 100 Telekinetic Shield 200 Two Weapon Wielder (Melee) 500 Flesh Render 250 Raptor 250 Blade Dancer 750 Toughness +5 200 Weapon Skill +5 200 3,200/3,200 Exp Spent Alignment Nurgle: 1 Khorne: 1 Tzeentch: 0 Slanesh: 0
Treek fucked around with this message at Feb 5, 2013 around 23:27
|# ? Feb 5, 2013 23:15|
"Brothers. Sisters. Once, I was a man just like yourself, a simple cog in the abominable machine that is the Imperium. I toiled for years in the Administratum, doing naught but the same action every day, monotony eroding my very will to live! But, as luck would have it, I saw through the obscure and irrelevant information held on the slates I handled every day. I saw the truth! The Imperium is rotting. Our beloved Emperor is held thrall to the whims of the corrupt on Terra. The Administratum itself is bleeding us dry. Not only of coin, or resource, but of blood! Our sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, sent off to war in systems they've never known, far away from family and friends, to satisfy the greed and egoism of the High Lords of Terra! For make no mistake, they have betrayed us. They have betrayed the Imperium! Every last human being in the galaxy is shackled to their ambition and should we dare to question them, they respond with force. Force! Those are not the actions of the righteous!
No more I say! It is time we show those decadent swine the result of their actions! We might be few now, but ours is a just cause! Freedom! From oppression! From tyranny! Freedom to govern our own future and that of our children! What begins here shall spread throughout the stars and echo across the galaxy! We shall tear down their government, destroy their armies and punish those who have wronged us so! For our ancestors who suffered just as we do! For the children who will suffer unless we act! This is our time now, and not even death shall stop us!"
Only known recording of Jeren Thul, also known as the Voice of Reason.
Name: Jeren Thul, The Voice of Reason Career: Apostate Pride: Charm Disgrace: Regret Motivation: Innovation Characteristics: WS: 25 (25 + 0) BS: 30 (25 + 5) S: 25 (25 + 0) T: 30 (25 + 10) -5 Pride Ag: 30 (25 + 5) Int: 58 (25 + 20) +3 Motivation, +10 Advance Per: 45 (25 + 20) WP: 45 (25 + 20) Fel: 65 (25 + 20) +5 Pride, +5 Class, +10 Advance Wounds 10 IP: 26 CP: 12 Skills: Acrobatics Awareness Charm +10 Command Commerce +10 Common Lore (Administratum, Ecclesiarchy) Deceive +10 Dodge Forbidden Lore (Heresy, Daemonology, The Warp) Inquiry +10 Lingiustics (Low Gothic) Logic Scholastic Lore (Cryptology, Numerology, Philosophy) Trade (Cryptographer) Talents: Quick and the Dead (+2 to Initiative) Air of Authority -Inspire Wrath Hatred (Administratum) Peer (Heretical Cults) Polyglot Radiant Presence Psy-rating 1 Total Recall Unshakable Will Weapon Training (Las, Primary) Powers - Thought Sending - Compel - Delude - Mind Probe Gifts - Infernal Will Gear: Good-craftsmanship Laspistol Best-craftsmanship Swords Mesh-armour Chaos Symbol Pendant Unholy Tomes 2 laspistol clips Good-craftsmanship Light Carapace Armor (+5 Interaction w/Ecclesiarchy) Refractor Field 2,950/3,000 XP spent 250, 500 - Simple, Intermediate Fellowship 250, 500 - Simple, Intermediate Intelligence 250 - Mimic 350 - Trained Deceive 200 - Known Acrobatics 350 - Trained Commerce 100 - Delude 200 - Mind Probe Alignment: Khorne - 0 Slaanesh - 5 Nurgle - 0 Tzeentch - 0
Cynic Jester fucked around with this message at Feb 6, 2013 around 04:47
|# ? Feb 6, 2013 02:08|
Excerpt from Interrogation between Adeptus Mechanicus Th3-91A4 and Inquisitor E
Inquisitor E: So what possessed you to attempt this...experimentation?
Th3-91A4: Which of my many experiments are you referring to?
Inquisitor E: I believe you called it Project "Mind-Wrack".
Th3-91A4: Ah yes Mind Wrack! My crowning achievement! It came from time I spent aboard ship and meeting the Navigator. I thought, 'There must be a way to reproduce their powers using technology; for nothing is beyond the reach of the Machine God'.
Inquisitor E: So talking to a Navigator led you to wanting to grant Mutant Psy-powers to people?
Th3-91A4: No! Mind Wrack at first began as an attempt to make non-psykers attuned to the warp, to enable them to see the warp!
Inquisitor E: And how did that turn out?
Th3-91A4: It ended horribly. Most of the procedures on the penal recruits resulted in irreversible brain-damage. Once I reached the end of Phase 1 I was able to tap into the Warp, but could not modulate it. Madness and Warp-induced Cranial Explosion resulted.
Inquisitor E: Is that when you decided to use Chaos Technology?
Th3-91A4: Well you call it Chaos Technology. I call it 'Technology of Dubious Classification"...
Inquisitor E: IT CERTAINLY IS CHAOS TECHNOLOGY!
Th3-91A4: Yes fine, call it chaotic. Chaos or not the applications proved fruitful.
Inquisitor E: You used Forbidden Technology, which was provided to you by Alpha Legion agents to give Psyker Powers to those who previously had no psyker powers, and who waged a war upon your home Forge World.
Th3-91A4: Those Alpha Legion agents held the key to my research, and they provided test subjects to me! Think of the new applications! We could replace Navigators, turn the common man into psykers to fight our foes! Render the Black Ships obsolete!
Inquisitor E: You engaged in heretical practices and engaged in work with Chaos heretics!
Th3-91A4: I assume this means I shall not be allowed to continue my research?
Inquisitor E: I shall deliver the Emperor's justice to you now!
*sound of gun being pulled*
Th3-91A4: Did I tell you I gave myself the same implants?
*sound of discharge and scream of Inquisitor E*
End of log
Due to Orders from Inquisitor H, tech-adept Th3-91A4 is to be confined to a Black Asylum. He is dangerous, but his knowledge at being able to use technology to grant Psyker powers is too valuable warrant execution.
Name: Tech-Adept Th3-91A4 Career: Heretek Pride:Logic Disgrace: Regret Motivation: Innovation Characteristics: WS: 35 (25 +10) BS: 40 (25 +15) S: 40 (25 +15) T: 35 (25 +10) Ag: 35 (25 +10) Int: 68 (25 +20)+5 Career +5 Pride +3 Motivation +10 advancement Per: 20 (25 +0)-5 Pride WP: 45 (25 +20) Fel: 25 (25 +0) Wounds:12 IP: 25 CP: 12 Skills: Logic Common Lore (Adeptus Mechanicus) Common Lore (Tech) Tech Use +10 Dodge Medicae +10 Forbidden Lore (Warp) Forbidden Lore (Adeptus Mechanicus) Forbidden Lore (Psykers) Scholastic Lore(Chymistry) Talents: Die Hard Technical Knock Weapon Training (Las, Primary, Shock) Weapon Training (Bolt) Mechadendrite Training (Utility) Meditation Weapon-Tech Cold Hearted Enemy (Adeptus Mechanicus) Psy-rating-1 Traits: Mechanicus implants Special Ability: Traitor to mars Powers Doombolt Gifts Gear: Best-Craftsmanship Lascarbine Common-Craftsmanship Power Axe Light Carapace Armour any two Good Craftsmanship cybernetics unholy unguents combi-tool dataslate Optical Mechadendrite Good Craftsmanship Medicae Mechandendrite Good-quality Embedded Auspex Maglev Coils Infamy based acquisitions: Common quality Bolter Refractor Field 2950/3,000 XP spent Simple Intelligence 250 Intermediate Intelligence 500 Logic Known 200 Logic Trained 350 Medicae known 200 Medicae Trained 350 Forbidden lore (Adeptus Mechanicus) Known 200 Forbidden Lore (Psykers)Known 200 Master Chiurgeon 750 Unspent EXP: 50 Psy only EXP spent 200/200 DoomBolt Alignment: Unalligned Khorne - 0 Slaanesh - 0 Nurgle - 3 Tzeentch - 4
|# ? Feb 6, 2013 04:34|
Actus the Seeker
After years of training and thousands of hours of work, Actus finally had received his posting from the Martian Priesthood. He knew that the perfection of the machine did not allow for such emotions as anger or bitterness; but by the Cog, to be sent to an Omnissiah forsaken planet to oversee the harvest of raw materials that would later become coat buttons? On the long journey to That Planet (as he referred to it), Actus decided that his ticket to a posting that would allow him to use his considerable intellect was to showcase that intellect. After arriving, he spent most of his time in the surprisingly well-equipped library poring over star charts, anatomical research, warp lore, and just about everything else. He knew that he was the one who would discover something important, though what that thing was remained unclear.
When an team was sent 3 years later determine why the output of raw materials from the plant had stopped, they were greeted with a horror show. Bodies in varying states of dismemberment and decay lay strewn about the facility. Actus was the sole living being in the facility and he spoke at length about the great strides he was had made in his understanding of biology. He spoke until they gagged him; at which point he began speaking directly into his captors' minds. Actus' greatest fear now is that his research will never be shared outside of cell in the Black Asylum.
Name: Actus the Seeker Archetype: Heretek Pride: Logic Disgrace: Destruction Motivation: Arcane Characteristics: WS: 35 (25 + 10) BS: 35 (25 + 10) S: 32 (25 + 10) – 3 (Motivation) T: 45 (25 + 15) + 5 (Advance) Ag: 30 (25 + 5) Int: (7)57 (25 + 20) + 5 (Pride) + 2 (Motivation) + 5 (Advance) + 2 Unnatural Intelligence Per: 30 (25 + 10) – 5 (Pride) WP: 40 (25 + 15) Fel: 26 (25 + 5) – 4 (Disgrace) Inf: 27 (25) + 2 (Disgrace) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3909099/) Wounds: 13/13 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3909097/) Corruption: 10 Skills: Common Lore (Adeptus Mechanicus, Adeptus Astra Telepathica, Tech, Imperium) Dodge Forbidden Lore (Warp) Intimidate Linguistics (Low Gothic) Logic Medicae +10 Scholastic Lore (Astromancy) Tech Use +10 Trade (Armourer) Talents: Cold Hearted Die Hard Enemy (Adeptus Mechanicus) Hardy Infused Knowledge Jaded Technical Knock Weapon Training (Las, Primary, Shock, Power) Mechadendrite Training (Weapon) Psy Rating (1) Total Recall Unremarkable (From mutation, not affected by gear or appearance, detectable by Psyniscience) Weapon-Tech Traits: Binary Chatter Machine Mechanicus Implants The Quick and the Dead (+2 initiative) Powers: Thought Sending Mind Over Matter Doombolt Gear: Best Craftsmanship Lascarbine Power Axe Light Carapace Armor Servo-Arm Ballistic Mechadendrite Ferric Lure Implants Light Power Armor (Sustainable Power Source, Auto Senses, Vox Link, Spikes (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3909101/), <- Rerolled 10 Mechanicus Assimilation (1) Good Quality Cerebral Implants Ligature Oils Combi-tool Data Slate 2950/3000 XP spent Doombolt (200) Hardy (500) Infused Knowledge (750) Intelligence (250) Intimidate (200) Jaded (250) Medicae (200) Medicae +10 (350) Toughness (250) Alignment: Nurgle Khorne - 0 Slaanesh - 0 Nurgle - 6 Tzeentch - 1 Gifts: - Illusion of Normalcy (Nurgle) – Gain Unremarkable, Nurgle’s Rot range now 2xCB (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3909106/, failed Inf test for Nurgle gift)
Olanphonia fucked around with this message at Feb 6, 2013 around 04:40
|# ? Feb 6, 2013 04:37|
Munitorum Officer Hoyt Wilhelm
I really do not know how I got here. Ok, that is a lie, I kind of know how I got here. I mean physically got here. I don't know why I was physically brought here. One minute I'm loading up a shipment of glow-globes for some far flung battle front, the next minute a bunch of crazy people in skull armor and giant red hair-extensions are shoving swords in my face and hitting me with shock mauls. I hate shock mauls! So there I was, on the ground, being yelled at by the angriest son of a bitch in brass armor you could imagine, and he is saying I'm a psyker. Well hold the vox there, Charlie, what is this now? Psyker? Ain't those the guys I see walking next to the High Lords who look like a prune aged a 100 years and poo poo out a raisin? And they are always muttering to themselves about Emperor knows what. poo poo, am I muttering to myself right now? No, I'm talking to you. You're here, right? What I'm saying is, I'm no psyker. Sure I seen some weird stuff in my day, walls bleeding, and animals always barkin up a storm, but who can prove I did that? I ain't never once grew an extra limb or shriveled up like no raisin.
Anyways, so I get hurled into a black crate, and dang did it hurt my head fierce to be in there. Gave me a headache and a nose bleed and I felt real lovely by about an hour in that thing. Lucky for me, some idiot drunk off his arse crashes into the truck I'm in as its leaving the port. My crate ends up hitting the ground and breaking open. Now I high tail it out of there in the confusion, along with some other guys I guess was also in boxes. One of those fellows was naked, which, to me, seemed weird. I did the only thing I could think of, which was hide in that crate of glow-globes. It gets put on transport and lifted up into space.
So then, get this, pirates attack this transport. Now these are glow-globes, not lasguns, not munitions, not armor, so they get shipped freight on the podunk system haulers, not an official munitorum vessel or guard transpo. Well the pirates crack open the container I'm hiding in, and there I am cowering like a fool behind a bunch of crates. They don't see me, but they do see all these glow-globes. Boss says,"What am I gonna do with all this poo poo?" He closes it up and they leave! They musta taken something, but whatever, they left me which is all I cares about. I get out of that crate, everybody is dead or gone, and now here I am.
Where is here, by the way? Also you ain't seen any people with crazy red hair extensions or brass skull armor have you? As you can tell, I'm kind of a wanted man at the moment.
Name: Hoyt Wilhelm WS 25 + 5 = 30 BS 25 + 10 = 35 S 25 + 5 = 30 - 5 = 25 T 25 + 15 = 40 AG 25 + 15 = 40 +10 = 50 IN 25 + 10 = 35 - 4 = 31 PE 25 + 10 = 35 - 5 = 30 WP 25 + 20 = 45 + 10 = 55 +5 = 60 FE 25 + 10 = 35 Infamy: 25 Wounds: [21:23] <foxxbot> Jerkface, 4+8 = 12+2 = 14 Corruption: [21:24] <Hashutbot> Jerkface, 1d5: 1 [1d5=1] + 5 = 6 Traits Psyker The Quick and the Dead (+2 Init) Talents Hardy Psy Rating 4 Jaded Lightning Reflexes Weapon Training (las) Weapon Training (Primary) Child of the Warp - +1 to Psy rating when pushing, constant warp poo poo Table 4-4 Powers Thought Sending Psychic Scream Delude Mind Over matter Precision Telekinesis Force Bolt Precognition Skills Awareness Common Lore(Administratum) Common Lore(Imperial Guard) Deceive Dodge Forbidden Lore (Psykers) Linguistics(Low Gothic) Inquiry Psyniscience Trade (Shipping) Stealth Equipment: Laspistol Common Craftsmanship Neural Whip Flak Cloak Psy-Pfocus Dataslate filled with arcane lore Things: Devotion +5 WP, -5 ST Hubris: +2 infamy, -4 Int Vengeance: -5 PE, +2 wounds Advances: +250 WP - Tzeentch +250 AG +500 AG +200 Iquiry +200 Stealth +250 Lightning Reflexes - Slaneesh +250 Hardy - Nurgle +400 Psy Rating 4 +200 Doombolt +100 Precision Telekinesis +100 Mind Over Matter +200 Force Bolt +100 Precognition Alignment: Slaneesh: 1 Nurgle: 1 Tzeentch: 1 Khorne: 0 100,000 Glow-Globes Common Quality Conversion Field
Jerkface fucked around with this message at Feb 6, 2013 around 07:12
|# ? Feb 6, 2013 05:34|
Alexander sat in his cell, his hands chained to the wall behind him with hexagraphic wards inscribed into the metal. Faintly, he thought he could faintly feel the metal causing a burning sensation on his wrist, but he had been in the cell long enough that it had become a minor annoyance. His hair hung limply in his face, unwashed and greasy, and as he could not be allowed outside of his warded cell to shower, he could smell the B.O. that had built up on him.
Somehow, somewhere deep in him, that little bit pleased him. He felt sick to his stomach, like he needed to hurl, but the wards etched and painted onto the stone made him not want to puke. He kept his eyes away from the wards; they hurt something in the back of his head.
He had lost track of time in the prison; it had no meaning when all he did was stare at the same spot of stone all day. He had no need to eat or drink, and the guards seemed to have given up harassing him and the higher ups had seemed to give up questioning him.
All he could remember was, at one point, he had been a member of the Adeptes Arbites, and he had been a drat good cop. A little rough at times, but no ganger could best him when he got in close, and not a lot of questions were asked if their teeth were missing; gangers had poor hygeine, and poor diets. It happened. And then they 'got out' somehow. Nothing changed, his job was safe, and he was happy.
But he remembered the one bust that went bad. They thought it was just a drug ring, but it turned out to have been something a lot darker. They'd heard someone had brought spook to the hive, and that they had been cutting it into the obscura with something else that were making people sick, and making the worst of them have their heads explode. But Officer Curtis hadn't been expecting the bloated, cackling fiend that had been behind it all. At the time, the thought of the monster had horrified him, but now..
Curtis sighed, shifting slightly against the chains. He had almost won the fight, had the fat man by the throat, staring into his eyes as the life vanished from him. And then the man had laughed, and in the blink of an eye, Alex was slammed into the wall. It was all a blur from there.. he had felt something in his head almost pop then, and a pure dose of spook had been jammed into his neck.
When he'd come to, he felt sick. Everyone was dead, even the fat man. The report got swept under the rug, and he had been given plenty of time off.. until he had been swept under the rug, too. Oh, he'd fought back; he knew by then he was a dead man, when the mark of the three-eyed fly appeared on his chest, oozing pus. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it was bad to everyone but him. He'd heard something jovial speak to him, and he hadn't meant for it to happen, but he had seared through one of the acolytes with his own raw, psychic energy. He had had the potential all along, and all it took was a little bit if sick and a lot a bit of spook to bring it out, and now it was out and he had just fried someone working for the Inquisition.
They'd beaten him within an inch of his life, but he got back up and kept fighting. They'd strangled him, poisoned him, took the fight out into the street and ran him down with a car, but he kept fighting. And then the man with the staff and the rosette blasted him through a wall, and he finally slumped into unconciousness. When he had awoken, they had quite a few questions for him and some new accessories around his neck and wrists. He was pretty sure they'd burned down the entire apartment complex, and swept everyone else up, too. That didn't bother him in the least.
Now here he was, marked by Nurgle, nearly unable to die, and locked in the deepest hole the Imperium probably could find for him. They'd poked and prodded him, and subjected him to so many tests. They must have had some use for him, or they would have had the old inquisitor who had knocked him out before put him down. The waiting was terrible, but hey. Papa didn't mind a little stewing.
Name: Alexander Curtis
Pride: Grace (-5 BS/+5 Ag)
Disgrace: Destruction (+2 Inf/-4 Fel)
Motivation: Violence (+5 Corruption/-3 Int)
Psy Rating 2 (750 XP) (Unaligned)
WS +5 (250 XP) (Unaligned)
S +5 (250 XP) (Khorne)
Flesh Render (250 XP) Khorne
T +10 (750 XP) (Nurglex2)
Sound Constitution x2 (500 XP) (Nurglex2)
Disturbing Voice (250 XP) (Nurgle)
WS 53 (25 +3 + 20 +5)
BS 27 (25 +3 – 5)
S 50 (25 + 20 + 5)
T 55 (25 + 20 + 10)
Ag 30 (25 + 5)
Int 42 (25 + 20 -3)
WP 45 (25 + 20)
Fel 21 (25 -4)
Scholastic Lore (Tactica Imperialis)
Common Lore (War, Imperial Creed, Imperial Guard)
Linguistics (Low Gothic)
Weapon Training (Chain, Flame, Las, Primary, SP, Bolt)
Heavy Weapon Training (Flame)
Psy Rating 2
Sound Constitution 2
Disturbing Voice (+10 Intimidate)
Flesh Render (Roll 2d10 for tearing rather than 1d10, discard lowest 2)
Common Craftsmanship Heavy Flamer
30m S/-/- 1d10+4 E 5 Pen 10/10 Clip 1 Full Rld Flame, Spray
Common Craftsmanship Bolt Pistol
30m S/2/- 1d10+5 X 4 Pen 8/8 Clip ˝ Rld Tearing
Best Craftsmanship Chainsword with Duelist’s Grip
1d10+3+5 R 2 Pen Tearing, Balanced, +10 WS from Craftsmanship, +5 to Parry from Grip
Good Craftsmanship Chain Greatsword with Venom Drip
2d10+2+5 R 2 Pen Tearing, Unbalanced, +5 WS from Craftsmanship
Common Craftsmanship Carapace Armour
5 AP ALL
Medikit (+20 to Medicae tests)
dataslate with annotated version of Tactica Imperialis
The Quick and the Dead: +2 to initiative
Adroit: +1 DoS for all WP tests.
Psyker: Psychic potential. Start with Psy Rating 1 and 200 XP of Powers.
Stuff of Nightmares: Immune to poison, disease, suffocation, environmental hazards, stunning, bleeding. Also ignore crits that do not outright kill, unless caused by psychic powers, force weapons, or holy attacks.
Unnatural Toughness (+1)
Mark of Nurgle
Doombolt – 20 meters x PR, Half Action, +0 WP test. Deals 1d10+PR E Pen 8.
Duelist’s Grip +0
Good Craftsmanship Chain Greatsword with Venom Drip -10
John Dyne fucked around with this message at Feb 6, 2013 around 06:03
|# ? Feb 6, 2013 06:01|
I never wanted this. I had a plan: join the Guard, defend the Empire, do my planet proud. It was impossible to get out of the lower habs otherwise. Turns out I actually settled in pretty well with the grunts. We stuck together for a long time--long enough for me to make Sergeant anyway. I always had a way with the men. I knew what they were thinking it seemed like. I could get them up an fighting no matter what and I was always one step ahead of the bad guys. Some people said it wasn't natural. I should have listened I guess.
My latest assignment, I guess I should really say my last assignment, was to a frontier world. Some colonization mission or something. That was the front anyway. It got pretty obvious that there was something else going on when the Inquisition showed up. I don't know what they were there for. I didn't even get the chance to start the mission. Inquisitors keep a weird sort about them. All kinds of assassins and imposters and sleuth's. This one had a real freak show and one of his boys was called an "untouchable" or something. She came around and most guys just didn't feel quite right. She made me vomit. I curled up and felt like something had been ripped right out of my soul. Turns out I was pretty close to the mark.
Psyker. It still makes my skin crawl just thinking I could be one, but that's what I am. When the Inquisitor saw me go down like that he knew too, and when he found out I wasn't sanctioned he almost put me down on the spot. His type are curious though and when he said he wanted to test me I was just glad to be alive. That didn't last long. The things he did to me and the things he made me do no man should endure. It near broke my body and spirit both. He decided that I was going to stay alive, for now, but he assured me it would only get worse from there. I was going to Terra to see the Emperor. I'd talked with some of the psykers in the Guard before, the ones that would talk, and they told me that the Black Ships and the Rites of Sanctioning were the worst experiences they ever had.
I knew I might not survive. I knew that all my plans for going back home and getting a nice place outside the habs were gone. I was going to be chattel for the Imperium. That was the end of it. I prayed. I didn't know who I was praying to, because it certainly wasn't the Emperor who was going to kill me, but I prayed hard. I sat in my cell and prayed for weeks to just be delivered from that ship. I would have given up anything to be alive and free. Turns out everything is what the price would be and you can never know what giving that away feels like until it happens.
A voice came to me. It said that it could help me get away, like I wanted. I just had to let myself go, give myself to it. I'd heard the preachers in the templum talk about the threat of the Other Side--the Warp--but I was desperate. I caved. I could feel something instead my mind awaken. It was terrible at first. It was like there wasn't enough room inside my skull. I screamed for days, feeling like my head was going to split open right down the middle. Nobody comes to see if you're okay in the ships though. They know that thousands are going to die when they get to Terra. What is one more? I don't know how long it was, but after a while the pain went away and left something else behind.
I was awakened. There was an enlightenment that I never thought possible in the wake of all the pain. I could think more clearly and I could see that the bars that held me now were nothing new. The Imperium had been my prison for my entire life, and now I was going to break free. I took all the time I had, every minute of every day, to develop my abilities. I discovered new ones, improved the old ones that I never knew I had, and started to formulate a plan on how to escape. I was going to be my own man, outside the Imperium's gilted cage, no matter what that took.
The voice never left me either. It was my only companion in those dark days. It told me what powers I was capable of, what I could do to gain more, and how to gain the strength I needed to escape. Foremost, it hated the Imperium. It tutored me to do the same and said that my hate would be the key to my power. I cannot deny that I felt hate, but just the same my betrayal left a sour tang in my mouth. That wound would need time to heal, but the air of freedom would help it heal sooner. I will escape, I will bring down the prison of the Imperium, and then I will worry about my own salvation.
Name: Herod Mikhaleson Gender: Male Age: 28 Archetype: Renegade Pride: Devotion (-5 S/+5 WP) Disgrace: Betrayal (+5 Corruption/-10 to Charm) Motivation: Vengeance (+2 Wounds/-5 Per) Alignment: Khorne: 0 Nurgle: 1 Slaanesh: 1 Tzeentch: 2 Advances: 2850/3000 Psy Rating 2 (750 xp) (Unaligned) Thought Sending (100 xp) Inspire (100 xp) Precognition (100 xp) Precognitive Dodge (Free) Augery (200 xp) Glimpse (100 xp) Precognitive Strike (300 xp) Resistance (Fear) (250 XP) (Nurgle) Psyniscience (200 xp) (Tzeentch) Foresight (500 xp) (Tzeentch) Simple Agility (250 xp) (Slaanesh) Characteristics: WS 30 (25 + 3 + 2) BS 48 (25 + 3 + 20) S 30 (25 - 5 + 10) T 30 (25 + 5) Ag 43 (25 + 13 + 5) Int 40 (25 + 15) Per 35 (25 - 5 + 15) WP 50 (25 + 5 + 20) Fel 25 (25 + 0) Wounds: 15 Infamy: 27 Corruption: 10 Skills: Athletics Awareness Command Common Lore (War +10, Imperial Guard) Dodge +10 Linguistics (Low Gothic) Medicae Operate (Ground) Parry Psyniscience Scholastic Lore (Tactica Imperialis) Stealth Trade (Armourer) Talents: Catfall Deadeye Shot Disarm Heavy Weapon Training (Launcher) Hip Shooting Jaded Psy Rating 2 Quick Draw Rapid Reload Resistance (Fear) Weapon Training (Chain, Las, Primary, SP, Power, Bolt) Gear: Common Craftsmanship Plasma Gun 90m S/2/- 1d10+8 E 10 Pen 20/20 Clip 3 Full Rld Maximal, Overheats Common Craftsmanship Bolt Pistol 30m S/2/- 1d10+5 X 4 Pen 8/8 Clip ˝ Rld Tearing Common Craftsmanship Power Mace Melee 1d10+6 E 4 Pen Power Field, Concussive (1) (With two hands) Common Craftsmanship Missile Launcher w/ Suspensors (Acquisition) 300m S/-/- 1 Clip ˝ Rld Krak Missile x10 (Acquisition) 3d10+8 X 8 Pen Concussinve (3), Proven (2) Common Craftsmanship Carapace Armour 5 AP ALL Medikit (+20 to Medicae tests) Dataslate with annotated version of Tactica Imperialis Traits: The Quick and the Dead: +2 to initiative Adroit: +1 DoS for all WP tests. Psyker: Psychic potential. Start with Psy Rating 1 and 200 XP of Powers. Gifts: Projectile Attack: 10m S/-/- 1d10+5 3 Pen Spray, Smoke (Cannot be used with close-faced helmet.) Powers: Thought Sending Inspire Precognition Precognitive Dodge Augery Glimpse Precognitive Strike
ilootthecorpse fucked around with this message at Feb 6, 2013 around 14:08
|# ? Feb 6, 2013 11:40|
Warl "the Worm" Yuvenna
Life was good, before he got caught. Sure, the girls in his hab didn't give him the time of day, and he worked long hours in an Administratum office that just verified food production and consumption numbers for half the planet, but... he had secrets. Thinks nobody else knew. And he knew all those girls were really sluts. After all... he could see through their eyes, or the eyes of the assholes they were with.
It was his trick, his talent, after all. Something that developed during his youth, when he was just too pudgy, when he didn't know the right things to say. The laughed at his clumsy attempts, made him feel little, like he was nothing. Sent back to his tiny room in tears, dreaming of what he would have done if he were one of the lucky guys. Envisioning it, fantasizing about it when he was awake. Then... then he saw it. He felt it. It wasn't his body, he couldn't move it at all, but he saw and felt every movement, every stroke it made. He was along for the ride, and he loved every minute of it.
Of course, when he saw the girl again later, he couldn't help but make some comments about things that he shouldn't have known about her body. Got himself labeled as a pervert, a voyur. A few beatings from the girls rear end in a top hat bed-friend later, and he learned it was better to keep his mouth shut, not say anything. But his eyes... his eyes always proved he knew.
For years, he was there, able to watch anyone he wanted... only when they were in the act, that was when their minds called out to him, their souls shouting to a world that was deaf... except for him. He heard them, he joined them. No matter where they were in the hive, he was aware of who was doing what.
And yet, he was always alone.
Then the Inquisitor came. Too many people had been having nightmares, feeling SOMETHING wrong in them when they were in their bed. Too many whispers, glances, suspicions. The Inquisitor came, and Warl left, taken away to a prison where he was locked away to a place where souls never shouted, where he felt blind and deaf and so very alone. Taken out only to be used, to be told to find this mind or that, and see what they were doing. Of course, he couldn't at first. And they hurt him for that, for his arrogance in telling them they were idiots. He learned. He learned fast, to keep his mouth shut, to apologize profusely if he couldn't do what was asked. And he learned. Learned to do what they asked of him, to find that which needed to be known, to make others do things they wouldn't have normally done. He earned the nickname "worm", both for his behavior and for his skill in breaching the defenses of a mind, worming inside a psyche to get what was needed. His weight melted away under the strict diet he obtained in his cell, leaving him far better looking than he had been before, an irony not lost on him, but no comfort since there was nobody around to be impressed by it.
But never was he given the freedom to ride in someone else for long enough, to slake that urge that never left him. Always they bound him, fettered him, kept him in his own skin. But he dreamed, he planned. He thirsted...
Name: Warl "the Worm" Yuvenna Career: Psyker (+5 wp) Pride: Foresight (+5 per, -5 fel) Disgrace: Wrath (+5 per, -2 wp, -1 wound) Motivation: Vengeance (+2 wounds, -5 perception) Characteristics: WS: 30 = 25 + 5 BS: 30 = 25 + 5 S: 35 = 25 + 10 T: 35 = 25 + 10 Ag: 35 = 25 + 10 Int: 40 = 25 + 15 Per: 45 = 25 + 15 + 5 (foresight, wrath, vengeance) WP: 53 = 25 + 15 - 2 ( disgrace) + 5 (psyker) + 10 (advances) Fel: 40 = 25 + 15 - 5 (pride) + 5 (advance) Wounds 11 IP: 27 CP: 5 Skills: Acrobatics Awareness + 10 Charm Common Lore (Adeptus Astra Telepathica, Administratum) Deceive + 10 Dodge Forbiden Lore (Psykers) Linguistics (Low Gothic) Psyniscience + 10 Trade (Investor) Talents: Jaded Orthoproxy Psy Rating 3 500xp powers (Precognition, Mind Probe, Compel) Warp Sense Weapon Training (Primary, SP) Traits The Quick And The Dead Psyker Powers Precognition Mind Probe (Thoughtworm) Compel Sharpened Senses Gear: 3000/3,000 XP spent Sharpened Senses (Tome of Fate 59) - 300 Willpower + 5 - 250 Willpower +5 - 500 Awareness + 10 - 350 Charm - 200 Decieve + 10 - 350 Fel + 5 - 250 Psynicience + 10 - 350 Orthoproxy - 250 Acrobatics - 200 Alignment: Khorne - 0 Slaanesh - 4 Nurgle - 0 Tzeentch - 3
FireSight fucked around with this message at Feb 9, 2013 around 07:59
|# ? Feb 9, 2013 07:38|
MaliciousOnion fucked around with this message at Mar 14, 2013 around 02:20
|# ? Feb 9, 2013 14:33|
|# ? May 21, 2013 21:54|
Remilliard 'Remi' Silverhand
Remi Silverhand fancied himself some manner of up-and-coming druglord of the hive, rumored to have been made rather serious by childhood trauma-- if you ever heard that bit. Remi was barely into adolescence when a simple drive had ended in tragedy. His father at the wheel, his mother riding shotgun, a sudden explosion had blown their transport into pieces and killed his father instantly while his mother was left to die slowly from blood-loss. Remi had been told he was 'very lucky' he had survived the accident with only mild facial injuries, minor burns to his hands, and a broken collarbone. While everyone saw him as the fortunate survivor, delivered from death by the grace of the Emperor... Remi knew that was not the case.
He wasn't born 'Remilliard Silverhand', his surname was only more rediculous than his given name but you would be hard pressed to find him identified elsewise. He was not cursed with living in the slums, his parents both hard-working and loving, he grew up without much to want for. The only real misfortune he had was carrying a less-than-common surname that he caught hell for from his peers. As much as he would have liked to have designated the loss of his parents the fault of his peers, he would never escape the survivor's guilt. It was two years later before he first discovered his latent abilities and the foster home he was forced into had been so absurdly devout that he didn't dare breathe a word of it.
It started with a candle burning in the night, snuffed only in the last drowsy moments before slumber. Familiar nightmares wracked his mind and made him relive the incident going on around a year, something constantly whispering to his mind that he was at fault. His panic was stoked to the breaking point just before he awoke, fearing the blackness of the hab. Creatures dwelled within that darkness, he was certain, and his eyes searched for the slightest sign of movement. Tense minutes passed as he fought to catch his breath and cold sweat ran down his neck. It took a phantom snarl before he lost his control and cried out, grappling for the sanctuary the candle provided-- or at least the safety it represented when lit.
In his panic, Remi had not questioned how the candle had suddenly sparked to life, nor why it did not burn his hands as he cluched the candle just beneath the flame. The sound had roused his sibling who was quick to chastise him for not snuffing the candle as he was supposed to and tore the candle from his grip before the flame suddenly built in size and clung to his siblings hand even after the candle had been thrown aside. His sibling had cried out in pain, flailing his hand madly to attempt to free it from the fire that stuck to it. The flame vanished the second the door opened and light poured into the room, his foster father rendered into a silhouette in the doorway.
Some manner of accident, apparently, had burned his sibling's hand severely but Remi began to piece things together that had been strewn across nightmares in small slivers of insight and he began to understand that he only had to call the flame with his will to find it burning in his hands but doing him no harm. As he grew more familiar with calling the flame he also began to come upon the frightening realization, through his dreams growing clearer, that he had been the sole survivor of the incident because of the way the fire came to him with so much ease and did him so little harm. Fear colored the rest of his days under foster-care, afraid his affinity would have him branded and stolen off by the Black Ships
After coming of age, Remi was free to do as he wished and he took everything his foster family had been holding for him (his father's autopistol as well as a decent amount of money) and immediately went about changing his identity. There were a few other names before he stuck with Remilliard Silverhand but they were easily forgotten as he began to pioneer certain ventures that led him into controlling a sizable amount of ganger territory in the underhive and helped him climb ranks. He made his first mistake when he began to pry into the world of Psykers and paid for any insight or knowledge on the matter with a decent amount of money.
The last mistake had been using the flame in open underhive gang-warfare in a moment of rage. Forgetting himself so easily had rival gangs telling all sorts of stories to the Arbites and their investigation had unfortunately coincided with the arrival of an Inquisitior who had no trouble singling him out and casting Remi into the fate he had been evading for a decade and more. Jailed within the ship, the flame no longer answered Remi's calls-- or, perhaps, it could not hear him anymore. None of the abilities he had learned came to him here, leaving him with only recurring nightmares that he has only recently become numb to.
Sorry this is my first time using this system, let me know if I overlooked something or something needs to be changed.
Remilliard 'Remi' Silverhand Gender: Male Age: 29 Archetype: Psyker Pride: Foresight (+5 Per/-5 Fel) Disgrace: Regret (+5 corruption/Haunted) Motivation: Immortality (+2 Wounds/-5 WS) Alignment: Khorne Nurgle Slaanesh 1 Tzeentch 2 Advances: 3000/3000 750 (Psy 4) 250 (WP +5) 250 (BS +5) 200 (Telekinetic Shield) 350 (Dodge +10) 200 (Acrobatics) 500 (Two-weapon fighter) 250 (Ambidextrous) 250 (Deadeye Shot) WS 20 (-5) BS 40 (+10) (+5 250xp) S 25 T 40 (+15) Ag 45 (+20) Int 45 (+20) Per 45 (+5) (+15) WP 50 (+20) (+5 250xp) Fel 20 (-5) Wounds: 13 (8+3+2) Infamy: 22 (19+3) Corruption: 8 (3+5) Skills: Acrobatics (200xp) Awareness Deceive Dodge (+10, 350xp) Psyniscience Trade: Copyist Lore: Underworld Lore: Adeptus Arbites Forbidden Lore (Psykers) Talents: Ambidextrous (250xp) Deadeye Shot (250xp) Jaded Psy 4 (3->4 750xp) Two-Weapon Wielder (500xp) Warp Sense -Counts as Unbound for tests of Psychic Strength Weapon Training (Primary) Weapon Training (SP) Gear: 2x Autopistol Flak cloak Half-empty pack of Lho Sticks Psy Focus (Father's Autopistol) Dataslate filled with arcane lore Comm Leach Forgery Kit Traits: Haunted - Opponents suffer +10 situation modifier when attempting to intimidate this character. The Quick And The Dead - +2 Initiative Linguistics (Low Gothic) Gifts: Powers: Mind over Matter (100xp) Force Bolt (200xp) Manifest Flame (100xp) Fire Bolt (100xp) Telekinetic Shield (200xp)
Syrant fucked around with this message at Mar 16, 2013 around 08:23
|# ? Mar 14, 2013 04:28|