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Ogre in the Playground
Join Date: Jun 2009
Location: | Somewhere lost in dream. |
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Re: Piracy in the Expanse (40K)
Osaze The Doubter, formerly a sergeant of the 4th Fellowship of the Thousand Sons Legion
Spoiler
Osaze is tired. Tired and unsure. At first he fought, for Primarch and Emperor, to unite humanity in the Great Crusade. Those glorious, simple days where the enemy was before you and all the questions of right and wrong had already been answered. Then came the Wolves, and the Emperor's betrayal. Still he fought, for Primarch and Prospero, for he could not abandon his homeworld to the ravages of Russ' get without a fight. When Tzeentch's machinations snatched them from the brink of defeat he was grateful, and so he fought for Primarch and God, marching upon the very gates of the golden palace.
The Long War was next, that bitter, hateful war that cannot end so long as there are yet two individuals left alive to wage it. And the Rubric. Yes, the Rubric, the grand work of that fool Ahriman. Osaze remembers when he respected that fool, looked up to him as the Magister Templi of the Corvidae, the cult that he himself was part of. Those days have long since passed. In his Hubris, Ahriman's Rubric took many of his Comrades, rendering them into dust - including Osaze's own brother, Tarik.
In the millennia since, Osaze has learned and seen many things. But the more he learns, the more questions appear before him. He has learned the ways of the Great Conspirator, and many things in hindsight now seem much less certain than they were. He doubts his past, he doubts his motives, he even doubts his Primarch. Where once was certainty, and unending devotion, Osaze is now filled with doubt. He searches for the answers to his questions, for history long-buried and long-forgotten or for a new cause for which to fight. He cares little which he finds, but he will not tolerate these doubts that plague him - his loyalty, whatever it is given to, will be absolute and unquestionable, a perfect thing once more as it was is the ancient days of the crusade. He can accept nothing less.
Spoiler
Name: Osaze The Doubter
Race: Chaos Space Marine
Archetype: Thousand Sons Sorcerer
Pride: Devotion
Disgrace: Regret
Motivation: Perfection
Characteristics:
Weapon Skill: 34 ([30] + Roll [7] - Motivation [3])
Ballistic Skill: 43 ([30] + Roll [13])
Strength: 30 ([30] + Roll [8] - Pride [5] - Motivation [3])
Toughness: 40 ([30] + Roll [10])
Agility: 41 ([30] + Roll [11])
Intelligence: 41 ([30] + Roll [11])
Perception: 42 ([30] + Roll [12])
Willpower: 62 ([30] + Roll [17] + Archetype [5] + Pride [5] + Motivation [5])
Fellowship: 48 ([30] + Roll [13] + Archetype [5])
Infamy: 33
Corruption: 28
Alignment: Tzeentch
Gifts:
Nerveless Ennui: Ignores the -10 penalty for Fatigue but all touch-based perception tests a one step harder. Gains +20 to Psyniscience.
Skills:
Athletics (S): 30
Awareness (Per): 42
Charm (Fel): 48
Command (Fel): 48
Common Lore (Imperium) (Int): 41
Common Lore (War) (Int): 41
Deceive (Fel): 48
Dodge (Ag): 41
Forbidden Lore (Adeptus Astartes) (Int): 41
Forbidden Lore (Psykers) (Int): 41
Forbidden Lore (The Horus Heresy) (Int): 41
Forbidden Lore (The Long War) (Int): 41
Forbidden Lore (Warp) (Int): 41
Logic (Int): 41
Linguistics (Low Gothic) (Int): 41
Navigate (Surface) (Int): 41
Operate (Surface) (Ag): 41
Parry (WS): 34
Psyniscience (Per): 62
Scholastic Lore (Occult) (Int): 41
Scholastic Lore (Legend) (Int): 41
Scrutiny (Per): 42
Traits:
Amphibious
Haunted: Opponents receive +10 on Intimidate tests against him.
Psyker
Rubric of Ahriman: May roll an extra die for Perils Of The Warp, discarding whichever he chooses for a more favourable result.
Unnatural Strength (+4)
Unnatural Toughness (+4)
Unnatural Willpower (+2)
Talents:
Ambidextrous
Ancient Warrior
Bulging Biceps
Foresight
Heightened Senses (Hearing)
Heightened Senses (Sight)
Legion Weapon Training
Meditation
Nerves of Steel
Quick Draw
Resistance (Cold)
Resistance (Heat)
Resistance (Poisons)
Resistance (Psychic Powers)
Unarmed Warrior
Warp Sense
Psy Rating: 3
Strength: Bound
Powers:
Unaligned
-Doombolt
Tzeentch
-Boon of Tzeentch
Divination
-Precognition
-Personal Augury
-Glimpse
Augustus, Psychic Familiar
Spoiler
From a species of psychically-active xeno-fauna that resemble iridescent ravens, Augustus serves as Osaze's familiar. He found the fellow at a black market, and take a liking to him based on his similarities to a Raven, the animal for which his former cult was named. Augustus remains somewhat skittish after his experiences in captivity.
Temperament: Intelligent, Paranoid
Distinctive Features: Unnatural Senses, Venomous
Psychic Features: Psychic Reservoir, Warded
WS: 35
BS: -
S: 10
T: 10
Ag: 40
Int: 17
Per: 35
WP: 20
Fel: 15
Movement: 2/4/6/12
Wounds: 4
Skills: Awareness +20, Concealment, Dodge
Talents: Light Sleeper, Paranoid, Swift Attack
Traits: Bestial, Flyer (8), Natural Weapons, Size (Puny), Toxic, Unnatural Senses (30m)
Weapons: Poisoned Spur (Melee; 1d10+1, Primitive, Toxic)
Experience: 400/400
Equipment:
Wounds:
Current: 17/17
Critical Damage: 0
Fatigue: 0/8
Sister Leva, Black Sister of the Bloody Truth
Spoiler
In Character Summary: For all her life she fought. And bled. And struggled. All in the name of that thrice-damned corpse upon his throne. She was naught but a weapon, given to unworthy hands. Her family, her life, all taken from her before she even knew to think, remoulded and reshaped into yet another empty soldier for the corpse-god's wars.
But now, for the first time, she truly sees. The veil of lies has been torn from her, and she sees the truth. There is no god on Terra, no worthy cause for the tide of blood the Imperium endlessly pours forth against the galaxy. But if she must be a weapon, then so be it. She has seen the truth. The only truth.
The truth of blood.
The truth of skulls.
The truth of KHORNE.
Background: Leva never knew her parents. Their fates were, and are, sealed under Inquisitorial orders. She was raised in the Schola Progenium instead, brought up to be a fanatical and devoted soldier of the God-Emperor's will. A battle sister of the Order of the Ebon Chalice, she marched on alien worlds against unspeakable foes in His name, serving loyally and with devotion in endless crusades. Even when horrific acts were demanded of her, she did not blink nor shy away. Not even half the blood on her hands was that of the wicked, but it was all shed in His name. She knew His glory, reinforced by the devotion of her fellow sisters, and she would go to any lengths for her faith.
Then came the bloody tide, and the knights clad in grey.
In Basilica of St. Mariel on the world of Van Horne, an accident during renovation released an ancient, long-forgotten demon of blood and murder sealed within. It's corruption spread across the planet, a tide of blood and gore that corrupted and debased all in it's path. Even the most devout of priests were driven mad, offering up their flocks as bloody sacrifice to Khorne. Her order was dispatched to take back the basilica. Some fell to the corruption of the blood tide, others at the blades of the daemons that stalked a world now on the verge of being swallowed by the warp. Leva was not among them. She and her sisters fought on through the corruption against an inexhaustible horde of daemons, their Faith in the Immortal Emperor proof against even the influence of a Greater Daemon. But even they cannot triumph against such odds, and all seemed lost until the astartes arrived. And not just any astartes, for they were the Grey Knights, the greatest, incorruptible champions of the Emperor's will, the chamber militant of the Ordo Malleus. Leva and her sisters, still fighting valiantly atop the basilica walls, gave thanks to the Emperor, for their salvation had come.
Or so they thought, for the Knights turned their blades first against the loyal sisters. Cruelly, they butchered all that they could find and anointed their armour with their blood in some horrific mimicry of the bloody rites of Khornes own followers! The only survivors, Leva and her fellow sister Abigail, could but hide and look on in horror. The Emperor's greatest champions slaughtering His loyal servants for sorcerous rituals? How could this be, the Grey Knight were incorruptible!
The revelation shook them to the core, and in that moment Khorne tore the veils from their eyes. Their faith was a lie, the Emperor no different than the heretical forces they had fought as valiantly against. All the holy slaughter in his name now stood stripped of their blindness, revealed as a dark mirror of Khorne's own. For that was the truth of the universe, they realised, it's one universal constant, the immutable true nature of all existence. Slaughter. Bloody, violent massacre.
And they were enlightened.
When they bloody knights did finally banish great Ka'jagga'nath and all his works back into the blessed Warp Leva and Abigail went with him. When they re-emerged, it was with Khorne's gore-soaked truth upon their lips. Leva's anyway. Abigail was gifted far more than her, with magificent horns and iron skin, with a mind now too simple to comprehend anything but the slaughter before her. So Leva leads, and a grinning monster follows in her wake.
Spoiler
Name: Sister Leva
Race: Human
Archetype: Renegade
Pride: Martial Prowess
Disgrace: Wrath
Motivation: Perfection
Characteristics:
Weapon Skill: 52 ([25] + Roll [19] + Archetype [3] + Pride [5])
Ballistic Skill: 36 ([25] + Roll [8] + Archetype [3])
Strength: 42 ([25] + Roll [12] + Advance [5])
Toughness: 40 ([25] + Roll [15])
Agility: 34 ([25] + Roll [9])
Intelligence: 26 ([25] + Roll [4] - Motivation [3])
Perception: 34 ([25] + Roll [7] + Disgrace [5] - Motivation [3])
Willpower: 37 ([25] + Roll [14] - Disgrace [2])
Fellowship: 43 ([25] + Roll [13] + Motivation [5])
Infamy: 22
Corruption: 0
Alignment: Unaligned (Khorne 2/5)
Gifts: N/A
Skills:
Athletics (S): 42
Awareness (Per): 34
Command (Fel): 43
Common Lore (Ecclesiarchy) (Int): 26
Common Lore (Imperial Creed) (Int): 26
Common Lore (War) (Int): 26
Dodge (Ag): 44
Linguistics (Low Gothic) (Int): 26
Medicae (Int): 26
Operate (Aeronautica) (Ag): 34
Parry (WS): 52
Scholastic Lore (Tactica Imperialis) (Int): 26
Survival (Per): 34
Trade (Armourer) (Int): 26
Traits:
Adroit (Weapon Skill): Gain an extra degree of success on all successful Weapon Skill tests.
The Quick And The Dead: Gain +2 to all Initiative rolls.
Talents:
Ambidextrous
Catfall
Double Team
Jaded
Lesser Minion of Chaos
Quick Draw
Rapid Reload
Sure Strike
Swift Attack
Weapon Training (Bolt)
Weapon Training (Chain)
Weapon Training (Flame)
Weapon Training (Las)
Weapon Training (Primary)
Weapon Training (SP)
Lesser Minion: Sister Abigail
Experience: 1000/1000
Equipment:
Wounds:
Current: 15/15
Critical Damage: 0
Fatigue: 0/4
Sergeant Ned Burback, of the Orwellian 42nd Siege Infantry
Spoiler
In character summary: Ned's a simple man, with simple likes. He likes explosives. Doesn't really matter so much what sort, so long it goes boom nice and pretty like. All that other navel gazing is for hoity-toity stuck-up sons of groxes who have the luxury of it. He's happy in the mud and the trenches with his bombs (and his mates), and they really shouldn't have tried to take them away from him. Not like that. Him, some long lost nobility? A grand fluke'n joke. Didn't have to do that they didn't. Didn't have to take them from him, they didn't. His bombs nor his mates.
They won't like what happens next.
Out of character summary: Born and orphaned on the penal world of Orwell, then press-ganged at a you age. Didn't find it too bad, compared to the standard conditions on Orwell. Made a lot of friends and comrades, developed a talent for herding his gang of miscreants around the battlefield and a passion for watching things explode.
Eventually though, a delegation of nobles and Adepta Sororitas from an Order Famulous tracked him down. Apparently, he was the bastard descendant of an important noble family who had otherwise been wiped out, leaving him as the sole heir. Neither party liked the idea, and some of Ned's mates made a few off colour comments like they usually do. The nobles and the Sororitas took offence, and set about to execute the offending guardsman. The rest of the penal legionaries objected, and things quickly escalated into a full-blown revolt. A delegation from the Orders Militant arrived shortly after, and butchered them all. Ned and a few other survivors managed to escape, fleeing to become mercenaries and quickly falling in with less reputable powers now that they were no longer welcome in the Imperium.
Spoiler
Character Name: Ned Burback
Speciality: Sergeant
Demeanour: Affable
Comrade:
Name: Val
Demeanour: Steely
Regiment: Orwellian 42nd Siege Infantry
Characteristics:
Weapon Skill: 35 ([20] + Roll [10] + Advance [5])
Ballistic Skill: 29 ([20] + Roll [9])
Strength: 30 ([20] + Roll [10])
Toughness: 40 ([20] + Roll [14] + Regiment [6])
Agility: 30 ([20] + Roll [7] + Regiment [3])
Intelligence: 30 ([20] + Roll [13] - Regiment [-3])
Perception: 27 ([20] + Roll [7])
Willpower: 29 ([20] + Roll [9])
Fellowship: 41 ([20] + Roll [16] +Specialty [5])
Aptitudes:
Skills:
Command (Fel): 51
Intimidate (S): 30
Parry (WS): 35
Scholastic Lore (Tactica Imperialis) (Int): 30
Tech Use (Int): 30
Traits:
Larcenous: Add +10 to all Logistics tests to acquire illegal or contraband items.
Demolitions Doctrine: Add +10 to all Logistics tests to acquire grenades, missiles, explosives and special tank ammunition.
Scavengers Doctrine: May add +10 to any logistics test, but on any roll of a double unwanted attention is drawn from higher authorities.
Talents:
Air of Authority
Foresight
Get Them!
Nerves of Steel
Peer (Underworld)
Weapon Training (Chain)
Weapon Training (Las)
Weapon Training (Low Tech)
Experience:600 /600
Equipment:
Corruption & Insanity:
Corruption Points: 0
Insanity Points: 0
Wounds:
Current: 15/15
Critical Damage: 0
Fatigue: 0/4
Fate: 2/2
Venka, The Unbidden Nightmare
Spoiler
FLUFF FOR THE FLUFF GOD!
Spoiler
Once, there was a maiden...
....who struck an iron wall until it shattered her hand.
She did not stop, though cracks spread through her bones.
She did not stop, though blood sprayed her eyes.
She did not stop until she shattered the wall.
"Survival is fury," she said.
-The Scripture of the One-Handed Maiden
"Where'd I come from? Eh, it's not that interesting. You sure you want to hear it?".
"Well, if you're sure... I grew up on a death world, some pointless, out-of-the-way piece of s*** where everything was trying to kill you, or worse, and humans were on the very bottom of the food chain. Not a feral world, mind you, we had guns and **** or else they nasties would have slaughtered us all long ago. Naturally the Imperium was just fine with that, thought it made us better recruits for the a**hole astartes who had their big fancy fortress monastery there. And me? I wanted to join them. They were the biggest, baddest things around and everyone said that proving yourself worthy to become one was just about the best thing that could ever possibly happen, barring the Emperor himself personally showing up to invite you out for a night of hookers and blow".
"So I did. I turned up at the their little trials, slaughtered every nasty they threw at me and then, when they decided that they still had too many applicants and turned it into a deathmatch, all the other candidates too. And you know what those a**holes said? That I was 'unworthy'. But poor little me didn't see where this was going, and I set off to prove otherwise. Found the biggest, meanest, f***ing nastiest monster I could, a pure-bred horror the size of a large tank with a hide thick enough to not even notice a bullet and every inch of it covered in razor-sharp spiky bits. And I killed it, with nothing but my bare hands and whatever weapons I could lie, cheat and steal my way into. Those f***ers still refused to even consider me. So I called them out. Spent an entire day standing outside their fortress screaming insults at them at the top of my lungs until they sent out their champion to shut me up. Some big 'roided-up sone of a b**** with biceps the size of my head and ten times my age in experience. Killed him too. Turns out that just pissed them off more, and even I couldn't fight an entire chapter of those f***s".
"It wasn't too long after making my escape that I started looking for other ways to get what I was owed, and that's when I ran into Osaze. He used to lead a warband of his own back then and was after some doohicky that was stashed away in that fortress monastery. We struck a deal. I'd lure those f***s into a trap for him and he'd pull some strings, get me what I was due. And I did. Got the whole chapter after me, thanks to some loaned explosives, led them on a merry little chase straight into an ambush. F***ers thought they were chasing one relatively unarmed pre-teen only to run into a full blown chaos warband. Slaughtered the f***s right down the last a**hole. And Osaze came through on his end, called in some favours with some shady folks and got me made up into an Astartes... or something close enough, anyways. Been with him ever since".
"Haha, man, I had the best childhood ever. What other little girl got to kill off an entire chapter of MUH-REEENS, wrestle an inchoate murder-beast to death with her bare hands and throw the switch that set an entire world to burn".
(Note: The above story may be embellished. Mentions of any skill at hand-to-hand should be replaced with 'and then I lured it into a trap/detonated the explosives I planted earlier/sniped it through the head from three miles away/tricked it into picking a fight with something bigger and meaner/killed a man just 'cause I thought he might thinking about maybe starting a fair fight/otherwise murdered stuff in the most unfair way I could'.)
CRUNCH FOR THE CRUNCH THRONE!
Spoiler
Name: Venka
Race: Chaos Space Marine
Archetype: Chosen
Pride: Logic
Disgrace: Wrath
Motivation: Perfection
Characteristics:
Weapon Skill: 32 ([30] + Roll [5] - Motivation [3])
Ballistic Skill: 66 ([30] + Roll [16] + Motivation [5] + Advances [15])
Strength: 40 ([30] + Roll [13] - Motivation [3])
Toughness: 40 ([30] + Roll [10])
Agility: 50 ([30] + Roll [15] + Advances [5])
Intelligence: 50 ([30] + Roll [10] + Pride [5] + Advances [5])
Perception: 42 ([30] + Roll [12] - Pride [5] + Disgrace [5])
Willpower: 42 ([30] + Roll [14] - Disgrace [2])
Fellowship: 44 ([30] + Roll [14])
Infamy: 22
Corruption: 0
Alignment: Unaligned
Gifts:
-
Skills:
Athletics (S): 40
Awareness (Per): 42
Common Lore (War) (Int): 50
Deceive (Fel): 54
Dodge (Ag): 60
Forbidden Lore (Adeptus Astartes) (Int): 50
Forbidden Lore (The Horus Heresy) (Int): 50
Forbidden Lore (The Long War) (Int): 50
Intimidate (Wp): 42
Linguistics (Low Gothic) (Int): 50
Navigate (Surface) (Int): 50
Operate (Surface) (Ag): 50
Parry (WS): 32
Stealth (Ag): 50
Tech-Use (Int): 50
Traits:
Amphibious
Cold Killer
Unnatural Strength (+4)
Unnatural Toughness (+4)
Talents:
Ambidextrous
Bulging Biceps
Deadeye Shot
Heightened Senses (Hearing)
Heightened Senses (Sight)
Legion Weapon Training
Lightning Reflexes
Nerves of Steel
Quick Draw
Rapid Reload
Resistance (Cold)
Resistance (Heat)
Resistance (Poisons)
Resistance (Psychic Powers)
Step Aside
Unarmed Warrior
Experience: 3000/3500
Equipment:
Wounds:
Current: 19/19
Critical Damage: 0
Fatigue: 0/8
Still have to write out the backstories for two of them. I've switched in Navigate (Warp) on my TSS, but someone else is gonna have to be the one with Operate (Voidship) and Navigate (Stellar) unless we want to be relying on the NPCs to steer...
I have a couple of different options I'm working on myself for the ship.
Profit Factor is basically how many semi-legitimate resources we have, and represents our ability to buy things legitimately. If it's low, then we won't have so much to spend if we visit imperial worlds but we'll have a significantly more powerful ship. We'll still be fantastically wealthy either way, it's more the difference between an elaborately carved solid mahogany dining table and one made from solid gold and studded with diamonds.
Last edited by Tome : 11-18-2012 at 05:50 PM.
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